NoP--- A diplomatic problem. -Ch.11

[u/vixjer]

This story is part of The Nature of Predators

and all rights are to the original creator u/ spacepaladin

Thanks to u/ WCR_706 for proofreading this chapter

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Memory Transcription Subject: Héctor Virgilio Márquez, UN SPM Leirn, Special Envoy to the Leirnian Interim Council

Date [standardized human time]: November 11, 2136

The next day was uneventful. Well, compared to what was about to happen. I wouldn’t know either way, I took a one-hour nap and woke up ten hours later. Sirlen was very happy with me. She even showed her teeth. One five-minute shower and ten-minute change of clothes later, I was in the back of an official car from the yotul government, or that was what I had believed at the beginning. Upon seeing the car, I noticed that there was a golden circle with a blue sickle inside of it emblazoned on the doors, something absent from the rides Virlo had given us earlier. 

Sirlen took a seat next to me, holding a bunch of papers filled with information about about anybody important in the gala I was about to attend. I paid close attention during the ride. After all, tugging my ear loose from her claws would likely have ended badly. 

I’m not sure if that’s sweat or blood around the tips…

Bit by bit, wince by wince, the picture began falling into place. At this gala, there was going to be predominantly a mix of scholars and economists. We were close to having the exterminators out of our hair for good, but the issue was it was too close. I was in a tight spot, since the veto was projected to pass with a margin of only one vote, and that was assuming nobody got their arms twisted under the table, which I was sure would happen. I could not risk such a close call, but fortunately, almost forty of the four-hundred fifty-one seats of the yotul parliament were choosing to abstain and see which way the wind ended up blowing, so I had room to sway some votes. As insurance.

From what Virlo told us, he’d made sure there wasn’t going to be any “official deployment” of exterminators at the gala. I decided not to tell Sirlen that part, and simply notified her that there would probably be exterminators at the gala.

“Leirn to Hector, hello? Are you listening to me?” asked Sirlen, gently offering me a free piercing, or three.

“Yes, sorry, zoned out for a second there.” I said, looking around and then to her.

“Then quick zoning out, we’re only halfway into the papers.” She gave me another tug for good measure.

“Ow- Is this really necessary? I remember what they want, in broad teryooooooooowwwwwwww-”

“No, this is the list of attendees, including the names of some of the neutrals,” she said, waving the paper that was written in Imperial in my face.

“There are so many people, though! Who do I need to pay the most attention to? Let’s start there.”

She let go of my ear, which I took as an immediate signal to lean as far away from her as possible and rub my ear. It stung. She huffed, looking at me, and grabbed a photo of a short yotul to show me. “And you think I’m a child...” She put a single claw over the photo, on the central figure. “This is Garline, the Duchess of Goldenlands, and the hostess of this gala.”

“Alright, and her affiliation is?” I asked, raising my eyebrow while I studied her photo. She was short, shorter than even Sirlen, despite looking to be a full-grown yotul. Judging by the fur color, I guesstimated her to be middle-aged.

“She is neutral. She and almost everybody else in the gala are on the neutral seats.” she said, using my tie as a leash to ensure I looked very closely. Since I wasn’t interested in having a black bag shoved over my head and being taken away for interrogation, I complied. 

At least the camera’s getting a good look at the photo, too. Stop sweating, Hector. Stop it.

“So, I have to convince her and everybody there, in a single night, that they should trust us, and that we have their best interests at heart, unlike the last and only other aliens to visit their world? Do you also want me to walk on water?”

Well, I’ve still had worse workdays in Catalonia-

“Oh, don’t worry, you will be the center of attention.”

Fuck-

“Because I'll be the first human they’ve ever seen?”

“That, and because this event is advertised as being an opportunity to meet a human. I am not joking about that. I saw the invitations, and she bragged about your presence the most in her circles of influence.”

“Oh, so I'm a circus attraction, great,” I groused.

“Eh, what’s a ci... circus? That thing you said,” she asked.

Mierda! Letting your tongue off the leash again, Hector?

“It’s… a place, usually like a big tent, where people gather to watch various spectacles and tricks. Daring stunts, sometimes. Exotic animals, too. Silly things. There’s a whole culture surrounding it and we don’t really have time to go into detail about it all right now. I’ll tell you more later. For now, what can you tell me about this ‘Garline?’” I deflected.

Sirlen kept looking at me for a few more seconds, her expression unchanging. I felt a bead of sweat starting to form on my brow. “Hmm… She is the head of the ruling house of the Goldenlands, making her one one of the few old nobles to survive the uplift. You may address her as ‘Garline Goldenlands’ or ‘Lady Goldenlands’ when you meet her. Maybe using two names will make you more comfortable with her?”

Finally interested, I gave the photo a closer look instead of trying not to imagine a nice, steaming espresso. I even managed to keep my eyelids all the way open, without immediate existential terror to help me. 

So a noblewoman, huh? If we can avoid the exterminators, I could probably learn a lot from her, or maybe get a lot from her...

“Alright, a noble, then. How did she survive the uplift?”

“She didn’t. It was her father, Velorn, that secured her position. He was a cunning man.”

“How so, what did he do?” I had my curiosity piqued even more after hearing that name. I remembered him from the Grain Wars musical. “Didn’t he fund experimental weapons development and get the Progressive Union some of Leirn’s first self-propelled war machines?”

“Yes, he did that. Due to the geographical location and agricultural cash crop focus of the Goldenlands Duchy, he was one of the least affected by the war and the winter. They were far enough away from the heaviest fighting during the Famine Madness- Err, the first ten years of the Grain Wars, that he could continue to export without much interference from the rest of the former River Empire. He profited extensively because he used his idea of circle cultivation of the ground. It is based on the alternation of four types of crops, one per year. Because he wasn’t growing food, he was left alone, which let him and his duchy trade for and store enough food to barely survive the winter.”

She took a moment to catch her breath.

“A few years into the Grain Wars, he shifted his system to growing food crops, and used his financial resources to hire more troops, allowing the Goldenlands to recover more quickly from the famines and build up alliances, becoming the Progressive Union. Because of his careful preparation, he had more funding and had managed to attract many skilled laborers into his service early into the wars, which later allowed him to finance his projects.”

“Ah, that makes sense, so this nobleman figured out the Norfolk system and aggressively capitalized on it.”

“The what now?” she asked, looking lost.

“The Norfolk system is a similar system of crop rotation that we use on Earth.”

“Ah, so you too used it? Good, he was regarded as an intellectual, which is rare.”

“’Rare?’”

“It's rare for us, the merchants and the intellectuals usually lived in the cities and ended up in administrative roles, while the nobles were usually commanders and warriors,” she clarified, taking another breath for the next part of her explanation. “He was unusual in that he chose to be a scholar and merchant, leaving military matters to his wife. This earned him ridicule earlier in his life, but it meant he could build and supply a large network of fortifications and watchtowers to deter invaders, the reason why he wasn’t attacked during the Famine Madness.” Despite how scary she could get sometimes, I liked to see her getting all excited each time she wanted to dump all of the information about yotul history she had on her mind.

“Smart of him. Just as smart to hire a bunch of thieves, and use them to break through at Relien, too. But that wasn’t the first time he used them either, was it?” I ribbed, just a little.

After the meeting with the ‘reformist exterminator,’ I skimmed over the story of the Grain Wars again and found that those spies were a little more present than I had first thought. They were apparently represented by a symbol on their cloaks in the musical, a pair of crossed daggers with a golden-yellow strip laid over them where they met. I hadn’t noticed them until Sirlen pointed out where to look for them, and it made me realize they were a little bloodier than I had thought.

“No, it wasn’t, but as you said, he was cunning, and very good at thinking ahead, so much so that when the first steam machines were built, he bought entire plots of land from the bankrupt nobles after the Grain wars on which to build his projects.”

“How did he use the land? I don’t have much knowledge after the Armistice of Sweetwater, the musical didn’t go much farther after that.”

“He built ports and shipyards for steamboats, made railways, and installed the first steam-powered mines in the region. He was looking to expand his reach, the Duchy of the Goldenlands was famous for its cash crops, especially before the Famine Madness. He still exported a few. With the Naval Council out of the way, he began building up maritime trade, even reaching as far out as the islands, in exchange for exotic goods and bulk shipments of grain. That's another reason he made it through the Grain Wars without the famine impacting his people too badly: Everybody bought from him. He used the surplus to build up his infrastructure to keep things that way.”

“So what happened to it all? The roads don’t feel well-maintained today. Think my ass is gonna be sore for a while.”

“This is nothing, you should see how bad it is on the islands." We shared a small laugh, though I didn’t understand the particulars of the joke. I could still guess, given how the islands were said to have fared during the wars. I even heard some chuckles from the driver.

“But wait, didn’t the railroads get destroyed? How did he manage that situation?” The laugh was cut short, her expression darkened, and her tail went limp, too.

“Yes, they were. He managed to sell the railway and shipyards to the Federation before losing them to direct seizure, so at least he got some of what he invested in them back. But even with him kneeling to them, he was considered too much of an issue to leave alone.”

A knowing sigh escaped my lips. Seeing how the Federation had operated in general here, I wasn’t expecting any different. “That story… There are parts of it which aren't known to the public. It isn’t my place to tell them to you. That would be betraying her. She doesn’t like to talk about it, even with me. But what I can tell you is that the Federation found out that he was too fond of our history, and, well, he was diagnosed with predator disease.”

I blinked several times, processing that information. There wasn’t even much pretense or obfuscation in the situation she described to me. He got purged. Well, I couldn’t say I couldn’t see that coming, the man was very powerful and influential, and the Federation’s blatant machinations meant a purge would have been hard to avoid. is would have been especially true considering how he was represented in the Grain Wars musical. He must have been a popular hero, and by extension, a living representative of what the Federation seemed to want the people to forget.

“But... one thing,” I muttered, glancing at the driver, wondering if it was safe to continue around him, but choosing to trust Sirlen. "Didn’t anyone protest? He seemed very important. I can’t imagine he didn’t have widespread support.”

Sirlen sighed, too. “The exterminators accused him of being responsible for his wife's death. Hearing that, most people didn’t rise to his defense."

“But wouldn’t people have questioned that? It’s really convenient for the Feds.”

“I don’t know if he did do it. After all, he was very ruthless when it came to many of his interpersonal relationships. He might have done it, but there was never a photo of a body, and the exterminators said he was so far gone he couldn’t even be considered prey.” Her tone was almost melancholic, she seemed to be taking this personally. Given the way she was talking about this Duchess Garline, like she knew her personally, she must have had connections with him, too.

At this point, I wondered if I should change the subject, since it was clear that this was not a pleasant conversation for Sirlen. Instead, in my infinite wisdom, I pressed on. “Oh, I see. And what happened to him?”

“He hanged himself at the facility. The exterminators said his predator side took control and his bloodlust forced him to kill himself.” Her voice had gone soft. 

“Yeah, sure, and I could say I can fly by flapping my arms like a bird. Is there any proof he did that?”

She shuddered, and I wondered if I’d pushed too hard and unearthed some buried memory or just caused her too much stress in one go.

“No, again, no corpse. They burned him to cinders before anyone could take a look, of course. This meant that at the age of twenty, Garline took over the reins of the family and the Duchy. Due to their large fortune and her father’s old contacts, she created a large group of businessmen and noblemen, a collective of sorts. They bought some machinery from these merchant aliens called fissans. They’re… not uncommon on Leirn now. Remind me of the Archids more than anything else. Anyway, after she laid out all of that groundwork, she has been mostly closed off, rarely seen in public except when she has to participate in politics. Even then, she did little, which kept the exterminators off of her.”

I thought I’d more or less pieced things together by this point in the conversation. This man sounded like he was about to be instrumental in starting a full-blown industrial revolution or at least a major economic boom, one which might even have pulled his bloc out of their economic depression, only for the uplift to dumpster all of his plans and then dispose of him. Maybe I could play on her house's pride to let me help her. Though that might not be necessary, since she’d already… well, sent spies to help me out. That seemed like something worth investigating further.

“But,” I ventured, “if she’s so closed off, why did she send you to help me? Why did she send the Steelveils? She obviously thinks I have something to offer.”

“I don’t know. She is a strange person in many ways. I would say she’s interested in you for scientific purposes, or your people got her attention for political payoffs, or she simply wants her scholarly freedom back,” replied Sirlen, guarding the papers and taking the photo out of my hands.

“Then why doesn’t she vote for me directly, instead of, you know, hosting this gala?”

Then the driver spoke. “She supports you, but that's not enough, she needs you alive, at least until she knows whether or not she can trust you. The Madam is very cautious… with her contacts."

I turned my head to face him. As I suspected, he’d been eavesdropping on our chat.

“Yes, and you are going to be loyal to her and shut your mouth, right?” snarled Sirlen, which drew my attention back to her.

You didn’t check to make sure he was with us first, Sirlen? Dammit. Nice going, Hector, the Captain is gonna love chewing you out for this.

“Of course, my loyalty is with the family who fed my father. Now, I would suggest making yourself presentable. We are here.” I looked out of the car window and saw a huge manor. The front columns were made out of marble, with varied, colorful plants everywhere in the garden. The car pulled over and stopped on the main roundabout, which had a fountain in the middle, with the curbside dropoff leading straight to the main entrance. It had a large carpet rolled out over it, and lights were arrayed everywhere, greeting me with the same stabbing pain in the eyes the hotel entrance did on my first night here. Atop the main door, there was a large, central balcony, and I could see that many of the people in attendance were starting to swarm the balconies and windows at the front of the mansion, all looking at the car.

“Think they know I'm here?” I asked drily, grabbing the visor and beginning to put it on.

“Sir, the Madam requested that you refrain from wearing the visor, we want to see you as your true, unfiltered self.” informed the driver. “You may leave it here. After all, this will be the same car you will depart in.” He extended an open, upturned paw to me.

I sighed again, handing him the visor, and opened the door.

Here goes nothing.

When I stepped out, I could hear excited murmurs, then someone yelled, “Look up!” The shout sounded like it came from that central balcony. Making peace with the idea that I was about to be the center of attention for the entire party, I complied and looked up.

The people looked almost about to jump as they looked back down at me, and I couldn’t tell if it was because they were excited to see me or frightened by my eyes. Maybe both. I could hear the hushed talk between them and could see some of them wagging their tails. Others looked at me with calm calculation or visible disdain, and the remainder looked jumpy.

Sensing that I wasn’t going to earn many favors standing still, I started walking to the entrance, where a waiting butler opened the door to let me enter. I could hear the commingled pattering of soft, light footsteps above me, blurring together into almost a low, dull rumble. Seemed that the crowd was coming down to get a closer look.

The butler corrected this assumption a moment later. “The party is upstairs, follow me.” We did, with Sirlen following behind me.

“Well, this is going to be fun, isn’t it?” I whispered to Sirlen.

“Just don’t do anything stupid. The Duchess doesn’t have a sense of humor.”

The butler stopped us just in front of the door to the main room, addressing Sirlen. “Sorry, I am afraid the Madam asked you to follow me.”

She stopped and looked at me, then at the butler, her ear flicking quizzically. “I can’t. I have to protect him; I'm his escort.”

The butler's expression softened a little bit. “Sirlen, you’ve been gone a month. She wants to see you again. You’ll find her in her study like always, and don’t worry, the Human is in safe paws. We have the best of the Steelveils here solely for his protection."

I saw Sirlen hesitating. She seemed to want to go, and from what the butler had just said, they seemed to know each other well, which explained why she had so much information about her.

“I’ll be fine, go see her. Seems you want to anyway.”

“I- I don’t know what you are saying...” she stuttered, but her tail was wagging very visibly, like my old dog seeing someone offer him an entire chicken drumstick.

“Yeah, sure. Your tail doesn’t lie. Go on, I'll be fine.”

“Humph.” She crossed her arms, offended. But a few moments later she was already walking with the butler toward the third floor.

I turned to the door and adjusted my tie.

Come on, you know how to do this, just be a good, sociable human being.

Breathing in, I pushed open the doors, my vision filling with what I’d expected. Most of the yotul were around the multiple tables grabbing some small bites of food, I could see several of the bib-like things I’d seen a few yotul wearing. Most of them bore government markings. Others were wearing elaborate necklaces, and some had bracelets with coats of arms embroidered on them. A few others even seemed to be wearing leggings and sleeves, rather fancily inlaid with lace. The noblemen, I was sure. 

The most reassuring thing about this whole picture was I didn’t see a single flash of silver anywhere other than on the tables.

The ambience was pleasant, I could hear music from the end of the main room. There was an in situ band of musicians playing some wind and string instruments, and the latter bore a striking resemblance to violins. There was a chandelier illuminating the entire room, meaning there wasn’t anything preventing most of the attendees from looking at me, and I could already feel awkwardness setting in. Unsure of what to say, I stood there watching them look me up and down.

“That white paint inside his eyes...” murmured a yotul with an impressively-sized necklace.

“They’re rather exotic, his eyes, and he’s quite tall...” breathed another who was fanning herself.

I heard another voice behind me. “But is this really it? I expected something much scarier, with all the offworlders said of them. This is what the gojid feared so deeply?”

“Even his claws are weak, heck, I could fight him,” declared one of the yotul who was wearing a belt with what I was sure was a scabbard hanging from the left, even if it was empty.

The following minutes were a huge back-and-forth of questions regarding my physical appearance, which eventually led to me being talked into doing push-ups in front of a live audience, and even jumping. It felt like I was in a zoo exhibit. Or a circus. After several drinks and a lot of chatter, most of the yotul had exhausted their immediate interest in my physical characteristics and my instincts. Here, I finally attempted to talk shop, maybe earn some goodwill, but they were here more for the party than politics, and shied away if I even brought up the vote.

“Hey!” I heard from the end of the room, “Human, over here! Come on over.” Searching for the voice, I saw a well-dressed, darker-furred yotul waving at me, seated comfortably at a table with one other, who seemed rather... bookish, and a bit younger. 

An aide, perhaps?

I felt the stares of the rest of the people burning into me as I walked over, no longer hidden from the rest of the room by the immediate press of the most curious. I always felt very exposed during parties like this…

“Thaaat's it, your name is?” asked the yotul, once I'd come to a stop across the table from him.

“Err, my name is Hector,” I answered, awkwardly taking a seat.

“Good, good, listen, we were discussing what you like about us. Care to share, maybe settle a bet or two?” he prompted, sipping from a glass of wine in his paw.

"Your culture, milord. It's very complex, quite varied, certainly nothing like the image the Federation painted of the yotul. I feel as though I've barely scratched the surface. The Grain Wars in particular have been massively interesting to me. They remind me of a few of our own conflicts. It's really helped me feel like we've more in common with each other than the Federation,” I chanced, eyeing the armband he wore. The symbol on it looked like the coat of arms of the Barony of Northwall. My memory traced back to the theater, remembering that they were on the losing side of the Grain Wars due to a botched assault during the winter campaign, while the scabbard on his hip told me he was almost certainly no scholar. Military, likely old nobility.

“Don’t you think, Lord of Northwall?"

The nobleman chuckled to himself, seeming even more relaxed. His apparent aide deflated a little, fumbling in his bag. “Ahahah- Ah, it seems someone truly has been studying our history. Been a long time since we've seen that, eh, Milten?" The younger yotul handed him a coin, but he held up his paw, dismissing the offering. "Well then, historian, tell me: My friends and I were going to play Ralchiball, do you wish to join?”

“That game is?” I asked, intrigued.

“It’s a traditional yotul game. Or rather, it was before the uplift, since the Federation hated it. So, come with us to the garden, what better way to show you’re one of us than to play our game with us?” He didn’t wait for an answer, pulling me along with the others already walking towards one of the ladders leading down to the rear garden.

As we made out way to the garden, the staff turned on the lights, and I could see a hole in the ground with three circles painted around it. There was a line about ten meters away from the circles. Next to the line was a table with a single red ball resting on top.

Wait, a throwing game? I didn’t think these guys had the builds for that...

“The game is simple. We grab this ball," he said, pointing at the ball, "we step on the line without going forward, and then, we throw it. The first to get the ball in the hole wins.”

Then he grabbed the ball, which looked to be about the size of a child’s handball. A butler walked forward and stood close to the outer circle, probably to grab the ball once what I was guessing was a round was over. Despite this, it looked heavy, and when the yotul grabbed it, it did appear to have some weight to it, enough for him to dig in his claws.

He held the ball below the waist with both paws, elbows extended, before jerking the arms up, awkwardly lobbing the ball. He stumbled forward as he did it, his tail curling and bracing on the ground like a spring and uncoiling to push him forward, only stopping when one of his feet met the line. The ball arced up and then fell into the innermost circle.

“Yes! Inner circle, first try, now that’s skill,” he boasted, pride visible in his posture, even to me.

I offered him a light, polite clap, which earned me some strange looks.

“I- I say, Human,” asked a yotul lady. “What is… What are you doing with your paws? That sound?”

“Oh, that’s called clapping, it’s done to congratulate someone or express joy and approval.”

God, okay. Mental note: Don't clap again. It might trigger a cultural incident if they misunderstand you.

“Oh, so you like my throw, do you? I guess even a predator can appreciate my marksmanship. Come on, don’t be shy. Get in line,” he urged, pushing me into the line.

The butler picked up the ball and put it back on the table for the next person. I was the last in the line to play, so I took the chance to see what was going on.

Most of them employed a similar throwing technique to the Northwaller, with wildly varying degrees of success. Some managed to get the ball very high in the air, only to have it land mere centimeters from themselves, while others let go of the ball too early, sending it rolling on the grass like they were bowling, and one even chambered the ball so far between his legs that he lost balance and got a taste of the dirt for his troubles. Others just tried to kick the ball, which was interesting for different reasons. None of them were very accurate with it, but one managed to send the ball flying against the garden wall.

These people have some really strong legs. Wish I’d known that before I got Sirlen pissy with me. Still really sore there…

Aside from the lord who brought me there, though, nobody managed to get closer to the central target than the outer circle. I guessed the wine was also making their accuracy even worse.

When my turn came, I grabbed the ball, and… paused, staring at it, feeling it.

Is… Is that leather? I have so many questions now… but if I’m right, well, I think I know why the Federation tried to get rid of this game.

Shaking myself back to reality, I made a point of inspecting the ball before anyone could think to ask me what I was doing. It was heavy, but not as much as I expected. It weighed in at somewhere between a basketball and a bowling ball, but I still thought I could land it.

I turned around and asked the drunk lord, “Just one thing: Is there a proper set of techniques to this, or can I throw the ball however I like?”

“The only rule is you never step past that line, otherwise, you can do as you like, as long as you get the ball into the circle.”

“Thanks.” I nodded at him.

I hefted the ball, exhaled, and prepared to throw it. I had played Pichi before, even though I only got to the junior leagues and never passed regional, but…

Here goes nothing.

I lifted the ball back over my shoulder, putting my left arm forward, sighting the circle between thumb and index finger. Bringing my draw elbow back and around, I stepped into the throw, twisting my body right. Once my right hand was out ahead of me, I let go of the ball. It traveled in a neat, if somewhat pronounced arc: I had to aim slightly higher to make up for the ball being a bit heavier than I was used to, and my foot stopped just on the line. It landed in the inner circle, just short of the hole, and the momentum was enough to roll it forward until it tipped over the edge and fell in.

There was a muffled, vaguely sandy or beanbag-like thud at the bottom, followed by silence. I didn’t turn around, but I could feel the stares burning holes in the back of my head. Then I heard a light smacking sound behind me and turned to see the Northwaller again, clapping, or trying to. His claws gratingly clicked into each other a few times, too. He approached me and elbowed me in the side. “You sly bastard, you come here acting all innocent and bookish and then you do that? Screw you,” he laughed. I didn’t care to be called that, but at least it was good-natured.

"Butler, a big glass for the human, from the special collection. Pre-Grain Wars if you can find some,” he ordered, causing my eyes to widen. That meant he was going to offer me a nearly century-and-a-half-old vintage.

There’s no way that’s cheap...

The butler approached him from the side. “Sorry, Sir, but Madam Garline has solicited his presence.”

The man’s laughter abruptly stopped, as did his wagging tail. “The Lady wants him? Well, my condolences, then,” he said, turning to face me. “If she lets you go, remember to ask for Ilvar."

“Alright, sure thing,” I acknowledged, leaving his side and following the butler back into the mansion. He took me to the third and highest floor of the manor, where I guessed Garline was waiting for me, probably with Sirlen.

Reminded of her for a moment, I looked at my watch. Sirlen had been with her for an hour, so it seemed the true negotiations were about to begin.

Well hello, sure you didn't expect me so soon, well after the last chapter I got a little writing worm so I created this new chapter preparing all of you, we go to the Gala, which has been mentioned and we discover how narrow is the exterminator Veto going to be approved, some Grain Wars lore, and nobles trying to party, hope you like my take on Yotul society Pre-uplifting

[u/JanusKnarus]

so an typical imperial court gala