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Tailoring a Suit of Peace

Thaumantica

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Tailoring a Suit of Peace
Conflict Resolution Peace Accords
Augsburg, Wiese​

Frail in comparison to what they once were, Rafał Hollád winced from leaden weight of the hulking oak door leading to this spartan symposium room. Its setting was amiable yet at the same time respectable; comfortable looking brown sofa, two single seat furnishings, a cozy fire place, and a center piece to Hollád's liking: selections of Central Europe's finest liquor.

With a temporary cease fire introduced, likely ignored by rogue elements and partisans of several dispositions, Životinje was now willing to do what her enemies thought inconceivable, and her short-supply of friends considered unlikely, a brokerage of conditional peace.

Sharply received, Rafał burned through three tumblers of Kasjopejan Scotch before consulting his timepiece. He, to military standard, had shown fifteen minutes prior to when the international caterers had expected him. Like drops in a buckets he added to the medley of scribbles in his notepad to pass the time, observations mostly in to the intricacies of Wieser culture he had just encountered on the streets outside. He had not maintained a security detail in years, as the soldiers put it, he was now 'bare-backing' without any man or woman to guard him from spies, enraged diplomats, or choking on expensive appetizers. The likelihood of each varying minute to minute, and delectable snack to encounter with foreign enemies.

A slew of half-brained suggestions were contained in his brief case, he had filed them accordingly in a way where he could withdraw one plan or another depending on how his counterparts presented themselves today. He was not put here by the Union Herald to spout propaganda, that they could undoubtedly receive by turning on their radio or television sets. Practicalities are not conventionally how a Union man conducts business, but he was one to divulge while abroad in providing a sane opinion. And to his new acquaintances he rose with gusto, throwing his note pad aside briskly to free up his shaking hand.
 

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Abkhaz’s plane was flying over what he thought to be was Oltremare. It was an uneasy flight. Abkhaz didn’t like flying; he just couldn’t be comfortable with the concept of being so far from the ground. Not only that, but these skies weren’t exactly friendly. At any moment these peace talks could be discarded and Abkhaz’s plane blown from the sky. There was little the two fighter escorts could really do.

Not having a Senior Councilor, the country would be thrown into chaos if the Executor was killed. Constitutionally the Council would work to hold the nation together, but the military likes to step in on a crisis, whenever they step in, things get messy. But Abkhaz couldn’t think about death at the moment, for his plane was actually over Wiese and was preparing to land.

When the plane landed, there was no welcoming party, which Abkhaz expected. Abkhaz did get into a limo which drove him to the location of the meeting. He got out of the limo and walked into the building. There he met the man who could rectify his problems, Rafał Hollád. Abkhaz hated the very sight of the disgusting Životinje scum that stood before him, but Abkhaz needed to play nice, so he was.

Abkhaz walked to Hollád and shook his hand. Abkhaz made no smile, just that feeling of coldness that came from when you looked into his eyes. Some would say it was intimidating, but Abkhaz knew this Hollád fellow wouldn’t be easy to deal with. These bastards legitimately thought they were working on what is “good.” It was difficult for Abkhaz to understand this feeling of “good.” He never looked at things as being “good” or “bad,” but being helpful or harmful. Životinje was being harmful to Akhaltsikhe and everything the nation’s new leader is trying to accomplish, for that reason they must be dealt with.

Saakashvili would have fought the war till Životinje began to beg for peace, Abkhaz saw things in a different manner. Abkhaz called his policies, in secret of course, “False Liberalization.” So long as the world believed Abkhaz was “reforming” his nation, helping the poor, calling businesses naughty, whatever made the international stage happy, Abkhaz would do, falsely. Fighting a war in Barazi was not only harmful; it wasn’t what the world would want.

Abkhaz sat down and looked to Hollád. “I do hope that we can come to a most pleasing conclusion in this meeting.”
 
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High-ranking Milliyetci and Foreign Minister Osman Polati was the official delegate chosen by the Rehber himself to attend the peace accords in Ausburg, Wiese. Polati slapped on his primmest Milliyetci garb and medals as he was always one to try and make a good first public impression. He polished his glasses and shined his shoes - ready to do Barazi's biding in this meeting ahead. Polati had left the Kraliyet International Airport earlier today in order to make the meeting on time.

A temporary cease fire has been implemented from the side of the Barazian forces. Civilains have so far been taking advantage of this to salvage what they can from severely damaged areas. Polati knew the outrage his people felt and the anger brewing in the Rehber. He would have to keep passif and calm to bring end to this wasteful conflict.

Landing in Ausburg in a quiet and undisclosed location, Osman Polati polished his specs one last time as he came off the Barazi plane. This wasn't a pictures and flags event, but more of a secret meeting, meaning no crowd would see the foreign minister landing. There were only body guards, Barazian Koruma Officers and limos ready to escort the parties to their location. This was done without a hitch. Osman Polati was glad he was able to make his way to the building without any unecessary disturbances.

Osman Polati walked tall towards the oak doors of the fantastic Wiese structure. Two Officers to each of his side peered around the hall to make sur no surprises were awaiting the minister. He turned to them and ordered "Çekilin." the Officers quickly stood straight and allowed the minister to continue his path alone. Upon entering, he could see Executor Abkhaz and Životinje's Rafał Hollád seated and in mid conversation. Polati approached his seat and made himself comfortable, keeping perfectly straight. He shook Abkhaz's hand, "It's nice to see you once again." he smiled. He then peered to Hollád and nodded.
 

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Snickering at the sight of Osman Polati's loud dress uniform attire, Mister Hollád stood to greet the man, not so content with a nod. Ignoring the strenuous discomfort of commanding his right hand to extend and squeeze, Hollád locked eyes with the Barazian, "If our countrymen were willing to throw their hard earned you know what to get us here, I reckon we can at least greet each other properly."

His own attire displayed a vision of the typical retired Enlisted man of the Union Army, when serving long past the required tenure he chose to wear an Oltremaren tailored suit, warm blue tie, and under polished cuff links with blue stars, a constant reminder to all Union men that there was a clear and dangerous enemy, the Red Star of Communism.

"To the point: I need another drink." Hollád grunted, retaking his furnished seat. "To business: Listen, and I stress that word listen vehemently. The only way we allow our nations, Barazi and Životinje, to march on in the same way after today, is in the event a peaceful agreement cannot be reached."

Mister Hollád consulted his notepad before continuing, a proverb of Maresal Konstantania of the 1818 Zivolution written beside doodles of Wieser Heraldry. "Životinje does not take slaves, subjects, or tributaries. Barazi will not become a Union Captaincy, I can assure you this has never been the objective. Our mission was to prove once more to the free world that villainy cannot frolic freely when titans like Oikawa, the Levant, and the EDF Bloc remain stagnant." He chuckled again for a moment, partially at his prior statement, but mostly at what he was about to say - "Unchecked divvying of Biological and Nuclear Weapons, rigged elections, aggressive nationalistic policies? I am not going to split hairs gentlemen, but let us begin this symposium of ours by adhering to the 'staples of honesty', as the good Herald Konavle puts it."

As if to motion for the others to speak, Hollád outstretched his strong hand to them, "Please, if you are not too offended. You'll find that we call them as we see them. Explain your perspective."
 

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Abkhaz could do nothing but snicker at the behavior of Barazi and Životinje. Abkhaz quickly repositioned himself so that it wouldn’t look weird to have his hand covering his mouth. He thought to himself that these negotiations would be horrifically difficult, but they needed to be successful.

“I flew all the way out here, I’m not going back with nothing to show for it,” Abkhaz thought to himself. Abkhaz’s thoughts were interrupted when Hollád began speaking. It was irritating because it was the same thing that Životinje has been preaching for so long. Then Abkhaz heard exactly what he wanted to hear. “Unchecked divvying of Biological and Nuclear Weapons, rigged elections, aggressive nationalistic policies?”

Abkhaz had a lot of things planned, those three things weren’t important to Abkhaz’s plan. Abkhaz now knew what he was going to do, and how he was going to do it.

“Minister Hollád, I am near positive that we all know the reasons Životinje acted the way they acted, but if we spend anytime debating the justifications of this war, we’ll be here forever, more people will die, more money will be taken away from helping people and invested into killing people. If those three things are what you are most concerned over, they are easily addressable.” Abkhaz looked over at the Barazi Delegate “I must agree that your nuclear weapons program should be stopped. Increasing the number of nuclear weapons in this world isn’t a good idea, in the slightest.”

Abkhaz then turned back to Hollád. “As for rigged elections, I am not sure you can really prove that, now can you? As for aggressive nationalistic policies, these kind of things are required when you have neighbors who don’t exactly support your way of doing things. If the people of Barazi didn’t like the current administration, they’d rise up in arms, which hasn’t happened.”
 

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Three snaps of his fingers, each louder then the next, cracked from Mister Hollád's right hand before creating what was intended to look like an explosion with it. "If you can excuse the theatrics. These three issues cannot be deciphered or solved by you Mister Abkhaz" he said unsympathetically.

At the age of sixty-seven, twenty of which spent as a non-commissioned officer, mulling over an uppity minor was but a chore. Humbling his urge to have another drink, Hollád placed his tumbler beside the closed notebook upon a fully stocked liquor cart, somewhere within a few sips he might be ready to begin speaking his mind. Not more then a mere confidant of the current Sindikat Maresal, and trusted mouthpiece for the Herald in Augsburg, he had no minions waiting to beat him in Sjadnbrdo if he, an off the books volunteer, spoke with tact.

"Permit your ally to speak for himself, and more importantly - for his countrymen." With fluid mindfulness of the attending foreign Guards, Hollád pointed directly at the Akhaltsikhe diplomat, "Recall the instance, not more then two minutes ago, when I advised you to listen." He nodded now, wise to the fact that an assuring nod would convey more then another mouthful of words.
 
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Osman Polati, incredibly irritated, began rubbing his head and shaking it afterwards. He couldn't believe the filth coming out of this man's mouth, but he held his own and tried his best to keep this summit moving forward and progressively.

"Nuclear weapons. That was the boiling point for us. We have none, we never had any and we don't plan on making any sort of assault weapon or bomb involving nuclear energy. That was a plan completely hatched by the Zivs in order to justify a useless, confusing and pointless war. They're quite dangerous you know." Polati reached to the table and sipped his water. He never drank alcoholic beverages in front of another world leader. "Ah, elections!" He remebered. "If you look at the "free world" today, you'll most likely see more corruption in the democratic system than you claim to see in the Milliyetci way of running things. Forming councils and forcing joint embargos on people you simply don't like seems like villainy to me. We don't need elections because the people have spoken very clearly when we came to power in 1992. After the torment of the past, it's only natural that the Barazian people would look up to and follow the one man who can give them what they want, and they got it. And frankly, if you like it or not is water off a duck's back to me and the Rehber."

Polati cleared his throat and looked to both of his counterparts. One seemed pissed - the other one enjyoying himself. Polati felt like he was in a kindergarden schoolyard fight all over again. "With the casualties lost in this conflict so far and the damage done, Barazi is looking forward to an era of peace with our neighbours to the northwest. But seeing as how reactionary your government seems to be, this will prove to be quite difficult. We hope some sort of an agreement can be met."
 

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Smile splayed coolly across his face, the old man spent a moment circling the room with his dark brown eyes. Mister Hollád ceased his visual jog upon Osman Polati, "Look around this fine Wieser room gentlemen, there are no cameras or recording devices" he said, then pointing to the guards he continued "unless you would like to have our little symposium swept for bugs?" His smile grew larger, a toothy grin pearly as a freshly waxed tile floor.

"Unless you are incapable of such, show a little character by distinguishing your speech with some semblance of individual perspective. I understand that removing toe from line in your home country loses you a foot, but please" his smile diminished to nothing "refrain from appearing flustered when finally understanding rhetoric only reaches the length of a border, or in our collective case: the range of a rifle."

Throwing his hands in the air dismissively, "Irregardless of how we arrived here, peace is how we are supposed to leave, so perhaps our best bet is to have another drink . . of water . . and drive on."

"I have within my power to present an option where Barazi escapes this with only a slap on the wrist," he remarked while withdrawing a cold manila folder "i.e. simple civil liberty quotas, an agreement where we are permitted oversight on nuclear weapons development, finally a pact to root out Communism from Central Europe, Centrjziema as we call it."

A second folder appeared now, this one a dark earthy brown, similar to Mister Hollád's old eyes. "This plan, zero oversight. But a taste of that Imperialism your propaganda chiefs yelped about." Flipping his satchel closed, Hollád obscured the other folders for the moment being "Frankly, I think these are your only options, besides the one where a cell phone call or two sends the boys on the front back in to all out war." He sighed, grateful his sack of bones was in Augsburg sipping on whiskey for the time being.
 
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Osman Polati has never in his life been called out on his speaking for the Rehber and the Rehber only. In a way, he felt as though maybe he could place in a few of his own ideas... for the good of the people and all that jargan. He knew for a fact that Oscelik would very much enjoy participating in the chasing of communism from central Europe. He had to adress the others, no doubt.

"Again, we have NO intention on working with nukes. The Milliyetci is strickly for the preservation of land - especially those Turkic and he would never in his life authorize the assimilation of nuclear warheads. That needs to be clear, it's me talking, not my party. Sure, we make ballistic missiles, but that's for close-range contact in case a damn mess like this happens again!" Polati permitted himself to not sit so stiffly upfront and relax a little. "With that said, gentlemen, there is no need for oversight on any nuclear project, because there will be none."

"Now as for the civil liberties quota. I have an idea of what you're going to be offering on that, but I'll let you lay it out on the table. What reason does Životinje have to believe that we are somehow mistreating our people?"
Finally sitting back, he pointed to Hollád and said "I'll have what you"re drinking."
 

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Abkhaz had grown tired of Hollád. The man was entirely unprofessional and as cocky as all hell. The insults being thrown at each other would result in getting nowhere. Abkhaz understood why Hollád was sent to this meeting. It was the same method Abkhaz would use, which is why Abkhaz felt so dirty and unprofessional being in the area. The topic of nuclear weapons, Abkhaz felt, could be won easily. Again, Abkhaz had plans for the nuclear weapons issue for a long period of time.

“Gentlemen, it is clearly obvious that neither of you will come to an agreement on the topic of nuclear weapons. No matter what happens, Životinje will always raise the subject and it’ll be a constant center of tension for your two nations. So, the way I think this should play out, is that the nation of Barazi should dismantle its entire nuclear program.”

When Abkhaz spoke, he immediately looked at the seemingly annoyed face of Osman Polati. Abkhaz simply made a subtle, but distinct nod to the man. Abkhaz hoped to relay the message to Polati that Abkhaz had plans for the nuclear situation. Barazi’s nuclear program, now that it was discovered, was too much of a problem on the world stage to be allowed to survive. As for what Abkhaz’s plan was, not many knew. Regardless of that, he hoped Polati would agree, for if he didn’t, these negotiations could get just that much tougher.

Abkhaz then addressed the option that Hollád had. Abkhaz found the old hag of bones to be almost funny, “Civil Rights Quotas” these ought to be a hoot.

“I’d also like to see these Civil Rights Quotas,” the Executor said.
 

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Buried temporarily in the contents of his manila folder, Mister Hollád was sprung to attention when the tart Akhaltsikhe Executor shared his opinion, one that the Blue Union would be genuinely suprised to hear about. "Dismantle their Nuclear Program" the old man guffawed uncontrollably, "an ally who would see her nearest and dearest powered in the twentieth century, and armed at the same disadvantage. ." he managed to udder. Attempting to alternate attention between the two men, all he could say was "Curious, most curious" before delving a speedy return to his folder once more.

A classic quotation from the Great War came to his elderly mind, from none other then the timely Maresal Butz, "It never was supposed to be simple" Hollád shared aloud, "Consider later the ramifications, instead bolster ones resiliency to external reliance and communism".

"This applies to Barazi how, yes?" he asked sympathetically, understanding neither would immediately understand the correlation. "In lieu of resiliency, we have stood by to witness the Milliyetci Faction compensate for the aforementioned by increasing the individuals reliance on the state." Mister Hollád said, highlighting his last four words with an index finger. He wet his lips with another drink while pushing the closed manila folder towards Mister Polati, "In capturing the City of Sevinmek, a known Barazi National Heritage Site, observers on the ground learned more about your country by what deserters and refugees were leaving behind, then we ever had from spies or paid sources within Krailyet. We have encountered the full extent of which your Secret Police, Gilusapolis, are willing to go in order to 'purify' the city from Milliyetci cultural enemies." he said.

Shifting his posture in to what could be perceived as an open pose, Hollád connected the quote and its following statement: "Fear. A free people are to be feared, note that both of you" looking more at Abkhaz in the process "To assume that a people should mutually fear its government should be a notion, not a reality. Modern Administrations are existent to protect the people from external harm, scarcely dabbling with internal threats. I believe quite adamantly that many from your country have misconstrued the ideals of patriotism, by coming to a juncture of borderline fascism supported by a classically intimidating paramilitary for and by the Rehber".

"If it would not be considered throwing salt in previously open wounds, Mister Executor Abkhaz. No one said a damned thing about Civil Rights, we were discussing Civil Liberty quotas" Hollád cracked in a fatherly tone. "We ask that Barazi restores the liberties of free religion, press, and the ability to petition or speak freely out against the Government. These three do not exist currently with any consistency in Barazi, we all know this, but Krailyet was not built in a day, no? In phases, liberty is to be introduced to Barazi. Over the next few years, these liberties are implemented with care to stability and security."
 
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Osman Polati could barely hold back the chuckle as Mister Hollád listed the nation's demands for Barazi. All the damage already done to Islam in Barazi and the well-established society that the Milliyetci had created would all come down to anarchy if all of these demands were to be met.
"Well the good news is, the press could probably show some room for non-government funded individuals. Maybe we could cooperate with you on that one." Polati cleared his throat. "As for religion. The reason the Milliyetci is opposed to these cult practices is because we see no need for them in the state. They don't generate any revenue and they give false hope to their followers who aren't going to get anything out of praying to an invisible man." He sipped his drink and loosened his colar. "That's why we will have to brainstorm on religious freedoms." Polati tried to keep it as civil as he could not to offend anybody. "Speaking freely is fine. Against the government, never. We've worked too hard."

"And you have not captured the entire city of Sevinmek, we have men stationed there as we speak. You could not possibly know what goes on in Barazi from taking what you have of Sevinmek" Polati defended annoyed by the situation he was thrown into. "Look, we want a better future with Životinje. Our past was shaky and the present is hell. It would be unfair to let crumble the peace in the east that Sarmatia has managed to hold for some time now. We will negociate, but I'm certain my welcoming home would not be so gracious if I let crumble the three main holds we hav eon Barazian society." He continued to defend.
Polati could feel the room intensify and he hoped that somehow someone in this room could see it his way and the way of the Barazians who have been living in the regime. all he could do now was wait for some input where he'd hoped the trio could mold an agreement that everyone would be happy with.
 

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Abkhaz looked to Hollád and began to speak, from experience. “Coming from a nation, such as yours, it’s understandable how you believe these reforms could be done simply. Akhaltsikhe and Barazi are alike in many ways, including our policy on religion. In my nation, for centuries the Islamic religion was prosecuted and discriminated against by the Orthodox Christians. They same would be done if Islamic powers gained control of the nation, the Orthodox Christians would receive the retribution they deserve. In Akhaltsikhe, in 1910, organized religion was prohibited and secularization came to the Government. That exists to this day, and it is the only way that we’ve made it impossible for religion to be persecuted. Today, we don’t care if you practice religion in your own home, that’s your choice. But you can’t do it in public, it may offend other people, and we simply don’t want that.”

Abkhaz leaned back in his chair, taking a sip of water. He hated being in these negotiations, they seemed more like terms of surrender then negotiations. Životinje was gaining everything, while Batazi was losing everything.

“Perhaps, Minister Polati, your country could do as we. Allow religion in private, because it’s impossible and costly to hunt down the religious people. Just don’t allow religion in the streets, for fear of offending people. That, in my opinion is a compromise that should make both parties happy,” Abkhaz said.

“Also,” Abkhaz turned to Hollád, “Since this war has caused so much damage to infrastructure in Sevinmek, perhaps Životinje should give amounts of money to help with the reconstruction of the city.”
 

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"Let us review" the retired non-commissioned officer asserted in between a coughing fit. "The Milliyetci Regime seems to be under the deranged impression that either their country is on the right track, or the vain notion that everything is alright." Re-consulting his notebook for a blank page, Mister Hollád penned out several points of interest, each scribbled more legibly then the last as he slowly realized that his writings were meant to be shared and read:

  • Anti-Theist
  • Afraid of Citizen Opinion
  • Paranoid by Alternate Ideologies
  • Hostile towards Racial Rivals
  • Shy to Negative Feedback
  • Unwilling to Change

Quickly he ripped the page away from his own person, handing it to the first open hand he could see. "Truth upon paper speaks louder then repeated orations for some individuals" Hollád suggested quite earnestly "However please note, this will be the final occasion where I waste our time with well established facts."

For the old man, his counterparts had turned a potential evening of booze and war stories in to a monotonous reiteration of well known propaganda. An assassination here, remodeled propaganda there, and Barazi could potentially morph in to a deadly state of Militant Communism. Životinje's upper strata of militia politicians approached these confounded foreign regimes with mixed opinion. Sarmatians had learned to value the virtue of individuality decades ago, seeing over reliance on nationalism as a sign of moral cowardice from a weak people.

"Fair enough, gentlemen. Fair enough." The dark earthy brown folder was next, lighter then its predecessor in weight, and simpler on the mind to digest. "Territorial autonomy of a Barazi Libertarian Republic stretching from Guzellik to the sea." Mister Hollád mentally braced himself for the upcoming accusations of imperialism, "If Civil Liberties are too difficult for the Milliyetci Clique to implement on its own, we will assure a safe alternative is offered to the beaten peoples of Eastern Barazi."

OOC: Tis an odd coincedence that between the two of you, seven of your posts have began with the characters name. :eh?:
 

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Upon hearing the terms of creating an autonomous state, Abkhaz became afraid that he had lost his cool. Abkhaz was infuriated at the proposal that Hollád had. Abkhaz clentched the end of the chair’s arm rests and finally decided to speak.

“You do understand this meeting is not one of surrender, but one of negotiation? If you’re idea of bringing peace is to carve a new nation out of Barazi, then I’m damn near ready to walk out of these negotiations, which are increasingly becoming talks of surrender. Not only is establishing a new Barazian state absurd, it’ll do nothing but lead to more conflicts and potential wars. I strongly suggest my Barazian allies to turn down this ridiculous offer. If it’s agreed on in anyway, I will immediately walk out of this room and withdrawal my forces from Barazi,”

Abkhaz’s voice was loud and tense; it was easy to tell he was angry.

OCC: I fixed that XD
 

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Eyes tightened in careful observation of the Executor, the old mans tongue was revealed during a slipping smirk as his new friend burst in to rage. In his heart, wherever that thing had crawled in to and died, he could understand their plight. His mind was much the wiser, he felt that this Abkhaz was a classic showman -- ill fit for quiet conversations, where instead televised debates perhaps might be his strong suit.

"Again, fair enough. Threaten to leave, fair enough." he said with an assuring nod, "But the Rehber's Puppets are never let off that easy, the Gilusapolis Goons shall knock down your door before you have a chance to close it". His shoulders ached from the shrugging he had been doing this afternoon, dismissing the two could only be repeated physically for so long.

Looking at his watch for effect, "A days cease fire will have done our men well, whether it is permanent or temporary will not change our objective for Barazi to accomplish with bravery and confidence: mutual trust between a man and his government". He earlier noticed, Hollád had, that the Executor and his ally continued to use phrases like 'Profitability of Religion', 'the three holds we have over Barazian society', and 'Never allow for people to speak against the government', not staples of trust in the non-commissioned officers retired opinion.
 

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"You and your nation have insulted mine, and even here continue to do so, so I have to ask the question. What, exactly, makes you feel that Akhaltsikhe is a puppet of the Rebher?" Abkhaz asked, gaining control of his nerve.
 
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"Listen." Polati interrupted. "We have already agreed to participate in the plite against communism in the east and we would be more than happy to vow our cooperation on matters such as that one and more to come. The Rehber, believe it or not, was interested in establishing some sort of positive tie with Životinje...That is, before you invaded us after we publically agreed to a meeting between our nation's leaders. We've all done things a little outside the box in this conflict and its high-time we repair them."

"We will be flexible on these demands, install them as civil quotas and loosen the grip over some aspects of Barazian life. Being a young regime, physical confrontation was the only way to keep things in line for a long time now, and we've gotten used to it. We've worked too hard to let the entire government go down the tubes. And it's a government that isn't exactly hated where we come from Mister Hollád. I don't care what you claim you have to back your therories, but you haven't lived in Barazi." Polati handed Abkhaz an additional drink to help clam his nerves. Polati was appreciative of his involvement in this meeting and would do everything to ease the tension. He wasn't exactly the fighting type - probably why the Rehber sent him here. "I ask you to consider being flexible as the majority of us are trying to be." Polati sincerely looked to Hollád and lifted his glass.
 

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Scribble paper reclaimed and crunched in to a ball, Mister Hollád chucked the waste in to a crackling fireplace. He imagined the words describing Barazi in its current state each individually going up in flames, fire after all is the great unifier and destroyer of kindred emotions.

"Off the wall observation" he said with a grin "Dictatorships never keep a promise to decentralize power, that is to say - their flexibility has the capacity of an unborn fetus" finishing without making an ill-taste abortion jest, his humor was still black like Military men preferred.

Standing up slowly, drink in hand, he motioned for his leather satchel, likely made from a distant Kasjopejan tannery. With the satchel at his side, he downed his drink hastily, leaving the ice cubes to melt at their own leisure. "I have a feeling we'll be back here in a few weeks." Hollád nodded, "If it is the three of us again, consider stretching for awhile in the mean time, I hear it helps with flexibility" the old man whispered with a painful shrug, no longer taking his advice unto his own body. He shook what hands were given to him with the same haste he had finished his beverage, quite aware that he had discomforted his temporary contacts on several occasions, and that their minds must be numb with confusion, rage, disappointment, or a mixture of the three.
 

Clarenthia

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Abkhaz expected no less. He simply stood up and looked to Polati. He shook Polati's hand and said "Until we meet again,"

Abkhaz then left the room and boarded his plane, he needed to hurry back. After all, he now had the order the departure of the convoys.
 
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