au for tis_allgood

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au for tis_allgood

It can't be a tent in the middle of nowhere. That would be simpler, and quite frankly the newly dubbed heir of the Eld would prefer it. But he knows the kind of message that would send. The surroundings for this have to be valuable, something it doesn't look like it's expected to be torn down with gunfire at any moment. But neither does he care to look too trusting so when he steps into the cold, ornate building it's with a small and loyal group of soldiers.

This building isn't on his own land, and it feels strange to be stepping on it without going fast and keeping himself hidden, but he's here. Somehow, bringing milk and honey as the refreshments felt unwise. He brought hard cheese instead, and bread. A soldier's lunch. Now it only remains to meet this man, the leader he knows little about and has never met, and try to see that this doesn't break into a war. He does not particularly expect to be successful. This is probably not a good sign.

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It's definitely a bad sign when the leader of the opposing nation is sitting with his feet up on the table when Roland walks in. And he's in no hurry to move them as he watches the new leader of Eld approach. He says something to the man directly behind him, and Roland's keen ears might hear 'stick up his ass' but the joke doesn't seem meant for him to hear.

Eventually Cuthbert turns his attention back toward his guest and gives him what should be a warm smile. But in this face it just looks sinister. "Welcome, esteemed high supreme and masterful leader of Eld."

"Don't give me that shit," Roland says, sitting himself heavily in the chair opposite. It isn't the most diplomatic or patient greeting, but that is because sometimes one needs to have patience, and sometimes one doesn't. Like, for example, in the face of unsubtle little asswipes like the one sitting in front of him. "Being an ass isn't isn't going to put your people in any better position to negotiate."

Roland then begins to make what is perhaps the most deliberately calm sandwich in history. He digs through his purse, takes out the packages, unwraps them, and doesn't look at the other set of men sitting across the table even once.

"Oh," he says, in the least absentminded way possible. "You've eaten, haven't you?"

Cuthbert is impressed, and possibly a little intimidated. He had expected the usual fight over his poor manners, that would have been a fight on his terms, not this new fight that he wasn't sure of the rules of.

"Of course." Whether they have or haven't eaten isn't relevant, he can't show a single moment of doubt or reveal himself to be even the slightest bit unprepared.

"But if you want to waste my time with something so foolish then I might as well have started the negotiations without you. Our horses need more land to graze, and clearly you can give over some of it."

Roland takes out a knife - small and not terribly sharp, which he's counting on to keep him from being attacked right here, but the fact that he's using it at all should make his point - and slowly cuts a thick slice of cheese from one of the packages he'd unwrapped.

"And give up all that good soil? My farmers will rise up on me if I give all that away without getting something back for it. Now if they had some good metal to shoe their oxen, that might quiet 'em down a little."

It's his way of getting back at the little shit for that greeting. Yes, the Masterful Leader of Eld is here, and he wants metal. Hell, it could be a test, too, see if the little shit is quick enough to see the threat there. That if he wants metal, he might want to use it for something a little more dangerous than shoes for the draft animals, too.

He won't need to, if this treaty goes through. And if the treaty doesn't go through, there's no point in negotiating for it. But, of course, he's only testing. That's all. He'll see whether the little shit's mind is good for anything more than childish insults.

Edited 2016-01-11 22:18 (UTC)

"What makes you think my kingdom has metal to spare? Especially for something as trivial as shoes for oxen you may or may not even have."

Cuthbert sounds sharp but not entirely sure of himself. He is about 50% bravado right now. There's a good chance they'll end up giving Eld what they ask for, but not without getting something good in return.

"Your soil will be worth nothing without a country to protect it. And no man protects his country without allies."

And if the man sounds less than sure of himself, Roland will surely notice it. Take advantage of it, if he can. "You doubt my honesty, then you try to push me into asking you to be allies?"

The knife he does not put away, but sets on the table beside him. The cheese goes on a hunk of hard bread which he does not eat.

"Tell me," he says, raising his eyebrows, "why would you want in good faith to be our allies in the first place? Is your situation truly so dire?" Go on. Tell him all about your country's weaknesses. After all, he's only asking out of concern.

"I would hardly want to be enemies with someone I'm trading with. Do they teach you poorly in Eld?"

He sits back from the table, putting his feet up on it like the disrespectful boy he was when Roland first walked in.

"You will find it hard to storm my country for metal without metal to shoe your horses and stuff you chambers. Let's talk business. I want good horseflesh, pure threaded. I know you have it."

"Know that, do you?" Roland frowns, sits forward. "One thing they do teach us in Eld, to value our privacy. If you want a single horse that isn't born with its insides dangling out its asshole you'll want to move all your spies out of our land immediately, and trade us that metal. And get your boots off the table."

It's an impossible request. A ridiculous one. Not the boots, no, that one he threw in without thinking about it, wanting to prod a little more. But there have always been spies, even countries at which they aren't fighting get reports from spies. It's how things are done. But this man's all but mentioned them out loud, and if he's trying to pull Roland's temper out here, well, why shouldn't he see it?

Edited (sorry i remembered a thing i wanted to say) 2016-03-30 15:21 (UTC)

Clearly Cuthbert is getting to Roland and he's going to take as much advantage of that as he can. He even rubs his boot on the table for good measure.

"Oh my, is that how we're negotiating now? Very well, Carlos, have all of our spies removed from Eld. Yes, make sure all of them are gone, because I'm certain my friend here knows just how many there are, where they are and will be watching closely to make sure we call every last one back." The smile on his face and facetious tone should convey just how serious he's being even to someone otherwise unfamiliar with Cuthbert. The man he's talking to doesn't even bat an eye at the order.

"Now that we've gotten the foolishness out of the way, and do not mistake me, I am quite fond of foolishness. Some might say too fond, but can one truly be too fond of anything so simple? No, certainly not. Now that the foolishness is out of our way and safely on the floor with the rest of the shit, let's talk about an actual trade. You and I. Man to man. Friend to friend. How much of our precious metal do you need? And how much do you want?"

"If we're sweeping all the shit away, friend, you ought to know I don't want a single thing from you. There are things I need, aye, but I wouldn't trust you to deliver them if your life - well, the lives of your men, at least - depended on it." There, accusing him of valuing his own life over that of those who follow him, that's a good start.

One day, a day many years from now, and older Roland will look back on this and sigh at himself. Today, this Roland has decided that the best thing for his kingdom is to strip the laughter from this fool and rile him into violence as quick as possible.

While it is utterly possible to rile Cuthbert, it usually involves picking at his weak spots. And telling him he's untrustworthy is something he's heard before. Plus, he never had this bold man's trust to begin with, so it's not much to lose.

"I'm certain your people would be proud to see you walking away from something you need over your wounded pride. Aye. They may even give you the top seat on the spot."

He leans over the table a bit, getting a little more serious.

"We could have made this easy on ourselves and simply put our trades on the table. But now you're making it difficult, aye, we cannot go back now."

"What is there to go back to? If you'd met me with some sort of respect, yes, maybe there would be something. Maybe if someone else had met me here, there would be something. But you?"

Roland sits back, shaking his head. "I'd be very surprised if you ever had an intention of delivering on promises made here, unless this is the way you always meet with men you wish to show respect. What did you expect I'd do? Sit here and listen to your nonsense, beg you to run your mouth off more? Truly, what did you want from this little meeting, if not this exact thing?"

"Respect is something a man earns. And when you came in trying to intimidate me it earned you little respect. Not that it isn't a valid tactic. But we're both a bit new at this and neither of us have any respect established."

Cuthbert turns to his men and says something low that Roland hopefully can't catch. He's just telling them to wait outside for a few minutes.

"Mayhap you and I can start over. Man to man. Just thee and I. Let your men wait it out... and you can keep the knife you're clearly so proud of."

"Since the moment I set foot in here you've been doing your damndest to discredit everything this rite, everything we ought to make here, was supposed to be. Don't forget about that." Roland flicks the knife up and it buries itself in one of the rafters, out of reach. Then he glances toward a certain man behind him, taking the man's pack when he steps up, and flicking a finger toward the door to send all his men walking out it.

"If you'll show none for the man you mean to make peace with, at least show respect for that peace itself. If you do that it may be we can make something, here. Will you do that, when it's you and I? No one but yourself to show off to?"

Cuthbert gets a laugh at Roland throwing his knife away, it's a bit over the top.

"I didn't think you would be able to send your men away, I thought sure you would deflate without the source of all your puffery. But I don't fall apart without my men to hate every moment in my presence, so I suppose I can't be too surprised."

He stops and takes a deep breath, finally letting the smile fall off his face.

"The truth is we're desperate for good horseflesh. Enough that I'm to give you more than even those men know to get them."

(ooc: So roland - especially this version of him - would insist on rituals like this at traditionally appropriate times, but we don't know many of their rituals so I totally made this up based on how they seem to think of water/khef. But me springing it like this does mean I'm assuming Cuthbert has been just ignoring any traditional negotiating rituals or whatever, so if he wouldn't have or if that just doesn't work let me know and I can edit.)

"You can roll over and show me your belly in a minute," Roland says, tone dismissive. He's paying more attention to the pack he's holding than the man in front of him, or even to his own answer. He's opening the pack up instead, then setting a cup from it on the table between them. It's simple in design, but very well made. It ought to be. No craftsman lives in Gilead who'd let himself err in the shaping of a wood so rare as blosswood. Beside the cup, Roland places a simple canteen. "There'll be time for that afterward."

Only then does he look up from his hands, tries to catch that other pair of eyes and hold them steady. "In spite of your damned tomfoolery," he begins, with more solemnity than those particular words ought to deserve, "in spite of the disrespect you've shown to everything we here mean to achieve, I'd sit and pour this with thee, water collected from one of Gilead's truest and purest springs by Gabrielle of the Waters herself. With thee I'd drink, and so share khef while we both sit at this table."

His hand waits over the canteen, unmoving until another hand might join it. His eyes wait, too, steady on Cuthbert's face. This will be what they call a moment of truth, in one way or another, because to Roland this isn't some stupid formality. To Roland, this is everything.

"This is an honor." One he doesn't really deserve, but no reason to draw attention to that right now.

It seems Cuthbert can be serious when he needs to be, and he takes it very seriously that Roland is going to share this with him. He takes the canteen with Roland and starts the ritual. He's letting Roland lead a little, this isn't something he's super familiar with.

(ooc, I can't remember what this ritual is, but Bert is taking it seriously and he will follow the ritual as best he knows how.)

The closeness with which Roland is watching him is for a specific purpose, the purpose of picking up any foolishness or insincerity. But when that close gaze does pick something up it's not what Roland was looking for. For now, the other man - much as he'd pissed Roland off only five minutes ago - seems perfectly sincere, even in the face of Roland's less than tactful reminder that Allgood's people are vulnerable. It's a surprise. Either there's some respect for the rites and rituals of their position in him, or he is very desperate indeed. Roland knows which of those he'd bet on, though he supposes he ought to be willing to wait and see.

No insincerity here, not that he can find. What he does find, what he picks up, is that way that Allgood is letting Roland lead, the careful way he's doing it.

"We pour the water together," Roland says, still watching Allgood's face. "And together, we drink. That's all. There isn't much to this, save in meaning. We share khef now, as we'll share it after in finding the right path forward for our people. If we can keep from wringing each other's necks long enough."

Having explained he ought to just start, but there's something here that he's curious about and, impulsively, he says it. "Is that it, then? Is it not that your men don't care about our ways, but that you don't know them? Have you lost that much of the old knowledge?"

"You'll have to forgive our backward ways, sai." He says with as little bitterness as he can manage. "Things have been hard away from the golden spires of Gilead. We have lost some of our manners in the fray."

But he is showing deference to Roland and to the ceremony. There's desperation here for certain. He knows what this means to his people and he will debase himself to get what he wants, even if he started out on the wrong foot.

"If it would ease things, mayhap you can wring my neck after we've come to an agreement."

To his own, maybe visible, confusion, Roland finds himself smiling. "Sai Allgood, I think that's the most sensible thing you've said since I stepped inside this place." The smile twitches on Roland's face for a second, as if it doesn't know how to sit there, then he gives his head a little shake and the look is buried.

"I grasp here. You put your fingers through mine, taking my hand as you would a friend." No trace of the irony which perhaps ought to be heavy in that; they've tarried enough, and Roland now is getting on with business. "We pour together. We drink, as well as possible, at the same time. There are no words to it. A simple sharing of khef, is all. Then we share a different kind of khef, one between men."

Then, unless there's another interruption or a protest, Roland begins. He won't start the negotiations, though, should they finish the ritual. He'll just raise his eyebrows, with no explanation as to why. Does he want Allgood's impressions of the thing they may have just done? Does he want him to forget it and get on with the rest of their business?

Well, mostly he wants to see where the man will take things next. And perhaps he does want to see him squirm. Just a little.

Cuthbert considers all of the steps, follows them quietly as he has to concentrate to do it right.

"'Tis a very intimate thing, is it not?" He means the ceremony, but it sort of applies to the whole thing. He's letting Roland see a side of him that most people don't see nor would they believe if they did.

When they're done Cuthbert sits back and lets out a breath he hadn't intended to hold.

"We should talk horseflesh. And metal. And just what we're to tell our absent men."

"Of course it is. A khef which doesn't unite the minds and souls of those sharing it is no khef at all. I thought it fitting for a negotiation such as this; I didn't know we'd need to be so intimate as we now are to keep from jumping at each other's throats."

Roland looks down at the canteen and cup in front of him, very gently starting to pack them away again before replying to the rest. "And I'd intended on telling mine the truth, what parts of it need be known. Is there some reason we shouldn't? Something I ought to know about the state of things in your land which calls for you to keep such secrets?"

"The truth can be a relative thing. What is true for us today right now may fade and change as time passes. But I intend to tell my men nothing about sharing your khef. They will not ask and I have no need to make them wonder."

Cuthbert is more subdued now, he doesn't feel like he needs to put on the same show he did before for Roland and he's not acting up.

"There is no reason not to other than the customs we must both be aware of. I simply don't want my men to have more reason to think me a fool. And though I'm grateful to share all of this with you, 'tis not something normally done where I'm from."

He lays a hand out on the table palm up and then looks to Roland, expecting him to do something with it but not saying what.

[Ridiculous. What's true for them today is what happened; 'truth is relative', to Roland, is just an excuse, a rationalization the other man's using to make himself feel better about lying to his men. But he doesn't say so.]

[Diplomacy.]

When men hold their hands out to me like that, usually they're expecting more coin.

[His tone is dry. You aren't the only one in the dark about the other man's customs here, Allgood, it says. Or have you forgotten that?]

Or a kiss.

[Would you happen to want the heir of the Eld to lay his blessing on you with a kiss, sai Allgood? He'd be very surprised if you did.]

Edited (sorry last edit i promise) 2016-09-21 22:41 (UTC)

I'm expecting neither, but that is my point. My men would see me doing this and put their hand in mine to show that our conversation was over. Not every place has the same customs and I want to impress that on you. I'm not always being rude on purpose.

[ He takes his hand back off the table, assuming his point is made. ]

I have no problem sharing your customs, don't mistake me. I enjoyed sharing khef with you, but I might stay you short of a kiss.

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