The Emperor stood abruptly. A quick call down the call out the door and a succession of servants arrived, each more immaculately dressed. The Emperor shared a few words. Some apparently causing consternation among the staff who ran about rather quickly after a quick discussion. "Come" the Emperor said. "We will be going to a favorite place of mine".
The Emperor led El Presidente to a waiting car. The small sedan even was adorned with cloth seats. Aside from the two uniformed police officers in the front seats and El Presidente's security detail in a trailing car... the car was otherwise nondescript. The car zoomed through the narrow medieval streets of Chagny and crossed the wide boulevards. The Emperor stared out the window at his city and pointed out some niche history trivia before reaching down to his feet and hefting a thick file. He handed to El Presidente casually. The manila folder contained a huge number of documents, photos, and invoices. "Not for you to keep" said the Emperor, looking once more out the window. "It seems the new Tsar is rather erratic. Or rather, is a bit more.....intent on dealing with any manner of rivalry" the Emperor said with a frown. "Frankish intelligence is some of the best in the world- but even the most inept of agencies can see that this is purely medieval behavior. If...or rather when this breaks in the media even I will have a hard time justifying this alliance" the Emperor said finally turning from the window. "The point, my friend, is that even I and the Frankish people have limits to our pragmaticism".
The car rounded around a corner and shot down a side street before stopping in front of a tiny brasserie. The Emperor waited as El Presidente got out. The building was neither nice nor dilapidated but it had surely seen better days. Leading Presidente inside, the Emperor was pleased to see it was only partially full. The long but narrow restaurant had rust brown walls that were adorned with 1910s posters and the occasional crack. At the very rear of the restaurant was the kitchen- shrouded behind a very narrow doorway and two ancient stairs. The Emperor leaned in to whisper- "this place was built in 1768. It was originally, I am told, a laundry". A few patrons stared in awe at the Emperor and then did a double take as they saw El Presidente. Others seemed very unconcerned with their presence. As they waited for a prepared table, a disheveled man in his 60's with a giant bushy mustache appeared from the kitchen. "Your Majesty" he croaked with open arms. "Maurice!" the Emperor responded. They shared a hug. The old restaurant owner showed a genuine smile. "How are your granddaughters?" the Emperor asked. "Good, good" said Maurice- showing them to a table. "I have been coming here since I was a child" the Emperor said to Presidente. "Maurice is a family friend" he continued. Without inquiry, a bottle of wine was placed on the table and after a few minutes, escargot appeared. The buttery garlic snail was Maurice's specialty. "El Presidente" the Emperor began. "I brought you here so you may understand something" he said, taking an escargot from the dish and spreading it on a piece of toast. He gestured around the room. "These people" the Emperor said without apparent emotion, "are hungry. Not for food. But for their future. Some of them are Burgundian. Maybe some are from Arches. Some maybe Patois or Pilan. But they all want food. They are not going to order the same thing. No. They are going to order what satisfies them according to their wallet. They aren't going to order a shit meal just to please others. Sure, they may compromise for a child, family, or a date" the Emperor said, taking a bite. "But look at them Presidente. All hungry. Some compromising. Some ordering what they really want. What would you do?"
The Emperor led El Presidente to a waiting car. The small sedan even was adorned with cloth seats. Aside from the two uniformed police officers in the front seats and El Presidente's security detail in a trailing car... the car was otherwise nondescript. The car zoomed through the narrow medieval streets of Chagny and crossed the wide boulevards. The Emperor stared out the window at his city and pointed out some niche history trivia before reaching down to his feet and hefting a thick file. He handed to El Presidente casually. The manila folder contained a huge number of documents, photos, and invoices. "Not for you to keep" said the Emperor, looking once more out the window. "It seems the new Tsar is rather erratic. Or rather, is a bit more.....intent on dealing with any manner of rivalry" the Emperor said with a frown. "Frankish intelligence is some of the best in the world- but even the most inept of agencies can see that this is purely medieval behavior. If...or rather when this breaks in the media even I will have a hard time justifying this alliance" the Emperor said finally turning from the window. "The point, my friend, is that even I and the Frankish people have limits to our pragmaticism".
The car rounded around a corner and shot down a side street before stopping in front of a tiny brasserie. The Emperor waited as El Presidente got out. The building was neither nice nor dilapidated but it had surely seen better days. Leading Presidente inside, the Emperor was pleased to see it was only partially full. The long but narrow restaurant had rust brown walls that were adorned with 1910s posters and the occasional crack. At the very rear of the restaurant was the kitchen- shrouded behind a very narrow doorway and two ancient stairs. The Emperor leaned in to whisper- "this place was built in 1768. It was originally, I am told, a laundry". A few patrons stared in awe at the Emperor and then did a double take as they saw El Presidente. Others seemed very unconcerned with their presence. As they waited for a prepared table, a disheveled man in his 60's with a giant bushy mustache appeared from the kitchen. "Your Majesty" he croaked with open arms. "Maurice!" the Emperor responded. They shared a hug. The old restaurant owner showed a genuine smile. "How are your granddaughters?" the Emperor asked. "Good, good" said Maurice- showing them to a table. "I have been coming here since I was a child" the Emperor said to Presidente. "Maurice is a family friend" he continued. Without inquiry, a bottle of wine was placed on the table and after a few minutes, escargot appeared. The buttery garlic snail was Maurice's specialty. "El Presidente" the Emperor began. "I brought you here so you may understand something" he said, taking an escargot from the dish and spreading it on a piece of toast. He gestured around the room. "These people" the Emperor said without apparent emotion, "are hungry. Not for food. But for their future. Some of them are Burgundian. Maybe some are from Arches. Some maybe Patois or Pilan. But they all want food. They are not going to order the same thing. No. They are going to order what satisfies them according to their wallet. They aren't going to order a shit meal just to please others. Sure, they may compromise for a child, family, or a date" the Emperor said, taking a bite. "But look at them Presidente. All hungry. Some compromising. Some ordering what they really want. What would you do?"