Whoami
fledermaus
Izurich
Mixtape Ghost N
Guardian Angel HarukiA Meeting With the Prince
Somewhere in Owca
Albrecht Korsch, an aged human male who wears nothing but simple peasant clothing with leather clogs, knocks on the door of the Prince known as Defaid at the dead of night. For the house of a prince, it wasn’t anything special: a two story home made of wood and stone, not much more than a big cottage really. Sure, compared to the tiny hovels most Owcan peasants called home, it was grand and spectacular, but if this place was in any other country but Owca, no one would have spared it a second glance. Home of a rich farmer, they would have said, or maybe a very low tier merchant.
A moment passed, and the door opened, revealing a waifish girl in plain clothes. She certainly looked surprised to see an ill-dressed foreigner at the doorstep, but she recovered quickly enough. “You must be the foreigner,” she said, trying and failing to keep her tone even.
“I am,” Korsch nods towards the waitfish female at the door.
“We’ve been expecting you. Come in,” she stepped aside for him.
Inside the manor wasn’t much different to the outside. None of the trappings and finery usually associated with the nobility could be found here. There was no gold plating, no ivory or china on display, not even a little marble sculpture. Everything was simple varnished wood.
“We were expecting you to arrive during the day,” the maid said, leading Albrecht down the hallway. She needn’t have bothered. The house was small enough that he could probably find the prince on his own.
“Sorry for not arriving during the daylight. The nature of politicking and your sister’s spies have not allowed me to easily visit the Prince,” Albrecht notes as he follows the guidance of the waifish girl, looking around the house a bit with his own eyes.
“I like your house, reminds me of my office and home,” Korsch softly states, following behind the girl down the hall. The girl didn’t respond, but she did glance over her shoulder for a second. That was as close to a thank you as he was going to get in Owca.
It didn’t take long for them to get there. The maid opened a door just like any other, and motioned for the ambassador to enter a room, just like any other. This one was a sitting room of some type. Bookcases lined the walls, and a little fireplace burned timidly on the far side.
And there, curled up on one of the chairs like a cat, was Defaid.
He didn’t look like a prince, that much was certain. Princes were rarely so small, so pale and so poorly dressed. His clothes were all wool and cotton, and the design was so simple that any peasant spinster could mimic it. His light-blonde hair was messy and his posture was lazy.
“Defaid,” Albrecht pulls on the boy’s sleeve.
The prince made a sound like a cat’s meow, and his eyelids fluttered. Had he been asleep? The maid did say he had been expecting him during the day.
“H-huh? What’s going on?” he mumbled, rubbing his big golden eyes to wake up.
“I see that you are sleeping well, but we have much to talk about. You might know me as the ambassador of Rodynsha,” Albrecht states to Defaid, sitting himself on a rather small chair, with the chair being close to Defaid in front. Korsch pats Defaid on the shoulder, rubbing it.
Defaid’s eyes widened as he realised just what he had done. Idiot! He was trying to make friends here! What kind of first impression was that? “Sorry, Mister Ambassador, I would love to talk but it’s my nap time.” Way to make yourself look like a drooling moron, Defaid.
“Of course!” he spluttered, trying to straighten his posture and reclaim at least some semblance of dignity. “Of course, I’m sorry! I just… I mean…” Words failed him. What possible excuse could he give?
“Don’t worry, I’m tired too. Your sister has not let up. Spies are everywhere around these parts,” the ambassador smiles.
“Indeed.” Defaid’s curt response belied the furious blush in his cheeks. “It’s hard to know who to trust anymore. Everyone could be an enemy.”
“The name is Albrecht Korsch.”
“Well, let’s get to the point. How can the people of Rodynsha help you in your justice cause?” Korsch asks Defaid.
Defaid pondered the question a moment. Weapons would be good, obviously, but you can’t build a nation on swords and shields. Besides, if all went well, his enemies should be few and weak. The real problem came from the outside: no way was Luchmeyer going to allow this, nor were the Cogaidh and Dhorne. Domino theory, you see. Once one country flips over, those around it quickly follow suit.
“Arms. We need to arm the peasantry.” Defaid stroked his chin. “The church is zealous, but it isn’t stupid. It’s not going to try and fight us if they know they will lose. Anything you can spare would be good.”
“Arms? We can do that. Afterall, the People’s Union is among the largest industrial powers out there.” Korsch says, coughing as he covers his mouth with his sleeve.
“What’s your stance on Rodynsha volunteers?” Albrecht wonders.
“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.” He didn’t want to say it, but the less foreigners he invited to Owca, the better. Every time an outsider came to Owca in his name, it gave more ammunition to his enemies. They’d call him a traitor, a foreign puppet, a Seonin. The last thing he needed for his popular movement was for it to be associated so intimately with outsiders.
“We’ll provide arms and supplies to you for now.”
“Do you have enough officers to command your uprising?” Albrecht questions.
“I have… people I trust.” A non-answer if ever there was one. “We should be fine.”
“Not to question your virtues, but our President has doubted your revolutionary fervor before in the week. By his own request, I need to ensure that we’re not supporting a reactionary now.” Albrecht questions Defaid.
The prince frowned. “He doubts me? Charming. And how am I supposed to prove that I’ll do what I say?”
“By his own words…..Kill the reactionaries for him.” Korsch stands up from his chair and reaches out a hand, petting Defaid on the head. Albrecht stops after a minute, handing over a piece of paper.
“That will detail everything about the aid package coming to you. Ready your people, friend.” Albrecht walks himself out the house and then into the pitch of night.
Somewhere in Owca
Albrecht Korsch, an aged human male who wears nothing but simple peasant clothing with leather clogs, knocks on the door of the Prince known as Defaid at the dead of night. For the house of a prince, it wasn’t anything special: a two story home made of wood and stone, not much more than a big cottage really. Sure, compared to the tiny hovels most Owcan peasants called home, it was grand and spectacular, but if this place was in any other country but Owca, no one would have spared it a second glance. Home of a rich farmer, they would have said, or maybe a very low tier merchant.
A moment passed, and the door opened, revealing a waifish girl in plain clothes. She certainly looked surprised to see an ill-dressed foreigner at the doorstep, but she recovered quickly enough. “You must be the foreigner,” she said, trying and failing to keep her tone even.
“I am,” Korsch nods towards the waitfish female at the door.
“We’ve been expecting you. Come in,” she stepped aside for him.
Inside the manor wasn’t much different to the outside. None of the trappings and finery usually associated with the nobility could be found here. There was no gold plating, no ivory or china on display, not even a little marble sculpture. Everything was simple varnished wood.
“We were expecting you to arrive during the day,” the maid said, leading Albrecht down the hallway. She needn’t have bothered. The house was small enough that he could probably find the prince on his own.
“Sorry for not arriving during the daylight. The nature of politicking and your sister’s spies have not allowed me to easily visit the Prince,” Albrecht notes as he follows the guidance of the waifish girl, looking around the house a bit with his own eyes.
“I like your house, reminds me of my office and home,” Korsch softly states, following behind the girl down the hall. The girl didn’t respond, but she did glance over her shoulder for a second. That was as close to a thank you as he was going to get in Owca.
It didn’t take long for them to get there. The maid opened a door just like any other, and motioned for the ambassador to enter a room, just like any other. This one was a sitting room of some type. Bookcases lined the walls, and a little fireplace burned timidly on the far side.
And there, curled up on one of the chairs like a cat, was Defaid.
He didn’t look like a prince, that much was certain. Princes were rarely so small, so pale and so poorly dressed. His clothes were all wool and cotton, and the design was so simple that any peasant spinster could mimic it. His light-blonde hair was messy and his posture was lazy.
“Defaid,” Albrecht pulls on the boy’s sleeve.
The prince made a sound like a cat’s meow, and his eyelids fluttered. Had he been asleep? The maid did say he had been expecting him during the day.
“H-huh? What’s going on?” he mumbled, rubbing his big golden eyes to wake up.
“I see that you are sleeping well, but we have much to talk about. You might know me as the ambassador of Rodynsha,” Albrecht states to Defaid, sitting himself on a rather small chair, with the chair being close to Defaid in front. Korsch pats Defaid on the shoulder, rubbing it.
Defaid’s eyes widened as he realised just what he had done. Idiot! He was trying to make friends here! What kind of first impression was that? “Sorry, Mister Ambassador, I would love to talk but it’s my nap time.” Way to make yourself look like a drooling moron, Defaid.
“Of course!” he spluttered, trying to straighten his posture and reclaim at least some semblance of dignity. “Of course, I’m sorry! I just… I mean…” Words failed him. What possible excuse could he give?
“Don’t worry, I’m tired too. Your sister has not let up. Spies are everywhere around these parts,” the ambassador smiles.
“Indeed.” Defaid’s curt response belied the furious blush in his cheeks. “It’s hard to know who to trust anymore. Everyone could be an enemy.”
“The name is Albrecht Korsch.”
“Well, let’s get to the point. How can the people of Rodynsha help you in your justice cause?” Korsch asks Defaid.
Defaid pondered the question a moment. Weapons would be good, obviously, but you can’t build a nation on swords and shields. Besides, if all went well, his enemies should be few and weak. The real problem came from the outside: no way was Luchmeyer going to allow this, nor were the Cogaidh and Dhorne. Domino theory, you see. Once one country flips over, those around it quickly follow suit.
“Arms. We need to arm the peasantry.” Defaid stroked his chin. “The church is zealous, but it isn’t stupid. It’s not going to try and fight us if they know they will lose. Anything you can spare would be good.”
“Arms? We can do that. Afterall, the People’s Union is among the largest industrial powers out there.” Korsch says, coughing as he covers his mouth with his sleeve.
“What’s your stance on Rodynsha volunteers?” Albrecht wonders.
“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.” He didn’t want to say it, but the less foreigners he invited to Owca, the better. Every time an outsider came to Owca in his name, it gave more ammunition to his enemies. They’d call him a traitor, a foreign puppet, a Seonin. The last thing he needed for his popular movement was for it to be associated so intimately with outsiders.
“We’ll provide arms and supplies to you for now.”
“Do you have enough officers to command your uprising?” Albrecht questions.
“I have… people I trust.” A non-answer if ever there was one. “We should be fine.”
“Not to question your virtues, but our President has doubted your revolutionary fervor before in the week. By his own request, I need to ensure that we’re not supporting a reactionary now.” Albrecht questions Defaid.
The prince frowned. “He doubts me? Charming. And how am I supposed to prove that I’ll do what I say?”
“By his own words…..Kill the reactionaries for him.” Korsch stands up from his chair and reaches out a hand, petting Defaid on the head. Albrecht stops after a minute, handing over a piece of paper.
“That will detail everything about the aid package coming to you. Ready your people, friend.” Albrecht walks himself out the house and then into the pitch of night.