Dean of Staff, Claude Darc, and Deputy Minister Andre Fouche glanced around the moderately lavish bedroom in the palace. It was Darc's and they had gathered there in the early hours after arriving at at bone stiffening midnight. The small group of assistants had been ordered to remain in quarters until breakfast. The meeting would begin at 9am so the two decided not to miss a chance to discuss the exact positions of the Grand Duchy.
The room at the Palace of Ter Heyde had a small table. The two, sitting opposite glanced at various folders laid in front of them. They had been at it since 6:30 and with the exception of some curious staff delivering tea, the two had been working in near silence. Fouche,a youthful 35, came from a family of tailors. He had attended mostly second-tier schools and a mediocre university but was very clearly talented for foreign policy work. He was only shackled by his lack of language skills. This was utterly not necessary for the task and he generally preferred to mostly listen in situations like this. The Frankish spoken in Serenierre was not that different from the Frankish spoken in most of Bourgogne. He expected the meeting to be conducted in formal Frankish, which all would know. Thinking on this, he leaned back in his chair. He glanced around the room absently. It was a few moments before Darc looked up, noticing the young man was not at work. Shooting Fouche a inquisitive glance, Darc removed his heavy glasses to rub the lenses with a cloth. Fouche did not make eye contact but continued look around- "You know sir, I wonder if this room...do you think they are listening?" he asked. Darc, an old workhorse, was quiet and shrugged. "Probably. Yet we have not said as much as a few words". Darc perched his glasses back onto his bulbous nose. He checked his watch. It was almost 8:15 and only a matter of time before their counterparts arrived. "I suggest we take a few minutes of privacy before the meeting" Darc said as he collected the documents to hand to a staff member. As Fouche excused himself from the room, he heard the cars beginning to pull up. After a few minutes, the stocky Darc headed downstairs to find Fouche gazing at a large 17th century portrait at the bottom of the staircase. The two nodded at each other and waited for the arrival of their counterparts. The two stared absently at the portrait as the sound of car doors closing drifted into the hall.
The room at the Palace of Ter Heyde had a small table. The two, sitting opposite glanced at various folders laid in front of them. They had been at it since 6:30 and with the exception of some curious staff delivering tea, the two had been working in near silence. Fouche,a youthful 35, came from a family of tailors. He had attended mostly second-tier schools and a mediocre university but was very clearly talented for foreign policy work. He was only shackled by his lack of language skills. This was utterly not necessary for the task and he generally preferred to mostly listen in situations like this. The Frankish spoken in Serenierre was not that different from the Frankish spoken in most of Bourgogne. He expected the meeting to be conducted in formal Frankish, which all would know. Thinking on this, he leaned back in his chair. He glanced around the room absently. It was a few moments before Darc looked up, noticing the young man was not at work. Shooting Fouche a inquisitive glance, Darc removed his heavy glasses to rub the lenses with a cloth. Fouche did not make eye contact but continued look around- "You know sir, I wonder if this room...do you think they are listening?" he asked. Darc, an old workhorse, was quiet and shrugged. "Probably. Yet we have not said as much as a few words". Darc perched his glasses back onto his bulbous nose. He checked his watch. It was almost 8:15 and only a matter of time before their counterparts arrived. "I suggest we take a few minutes of privacy before the meeting" Darc said as he collected the documents to hand to a staff member. As Fouche excused himself from the room, he heard the cars beginning to pull up. After a few minutes, the stocky Darc headed downstairs to find Fouche gazing at a large 17th century portrait at the bottom of the staircase. The two nodded at each other and waited for the arrival of their counterparts. The two stared absently at the portrait as the sound of car doors closing drifted into the hall.