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Chapter Forty-Two: The Cascadian Ambassador
🕑 Added 2025-05-17 00:39:38 +0000 UTCGoogle Docs: For Suggestions
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Anton peered through the windows, watching the arriving ship come into dock above the Numengrad skyline. The capital of the Federation was usually cool this time of year, however, the warm air from the southern storms had finally reached the city, causing an abnormal amount of humidity. Anton opened the window the few inches it allowed. Windows in the Red Citadel – the centre of government for the Federation – couldn’t be opened fully. Still, the subtle breeze freshened the room and took away some of the stickiness.
The ship docked on one of the Red Citadel's private staging towers, where a small group disembarked. Even from this distance, the singular demon in the group was easily identified. Standing a head above the rest, the demon’s height difference was further emphasised by his two sets of horns. The demon glanced at the Red Citadel with an indecipherable expression before following a guard out of sight.
Calvin Cornelissen, the Cascadian Ambassador to the Federation, had arrived.
Sighing, Anton walked away from the window and brewed some Jimari coffee. He always made sure to brew Cascadian coffee when meeting with their ambassador; it was important to show that, despite the sanctions Cascadia had leveraged against the Federation for its just support of Republican self-defence, they were easily circumvented.
Anton sat down and nursed his coffee. Under his instruction, the guards would make Ambassador Cornelissen wait ten minutes. The Federation was always busy serving the people; therefore, you wait for the Federation, and the Federation does not wait for you. Even so, for this particular matter, Anton’s mind was too busy with recent events to make good use of the enforced waiting time. His mind churned over the difficult conversation that was about to happen.
It didn’t help that when this conversation was over he would report to the head of the Red Navy and the head of the People’s Army. Two individuals who could crush any man or demon with their presence.
The allotted time passed in silence and then a side door opened. A guard stepped through. A rifle was holstered over his shoulder and his uniform was simple and brown. Yet, foolish would the man be who assumed this man was a simple soldier; a guard position in the Red Citadel was an elite position reserved for only the most loyal and decorated soldiers. This simple guard would, at minimum, be an orange-aura warrior and likely had decades of experience using it.
“The Ambassador is waiting for you, sir,” informed the guard.
Anton stood up, tidied his uniform and let the guard lead him to the meeting room. The room itself was large and immaculate with white marble floors and a long polished ironwood table. This table was almost ten metres long and, if Anton really wanted to indicate his disapproval, he would make sure his guest would sit at one end and Anton at the other.
However, now was not the time for that kind of politicking and so Calvin Cornelissen was sitting in the centre of the long table. The ambassador stood up when Anton entered the room but Anton waved him down. Anton passed his usual position at the head of the table and sat down opposite the ambassador.
With a small sense of satisfaction Anton noted the guard had sat Cornelissen down on the right side of the table. Now, when the ambassador faced him as he did now, his vision would be consumed by the enormous ten-by-sixteen-foot painting behind Anton upon which the visage of the leader of the Federation would bore his painted eyes into the demon.
“Ambassador,” Anton coolly intoned.
“Secretary.” Cornelissen nodded in response, his pure yellow eyes holding Anton’s gaze.
“Would you care for a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
Anton deliberately took his time before continuing to talk. He slurped the coffee before setting it down and resting an arm on the table. “We have much to discuss,” he said. “It’s not often we summon you on the same day you request to speak with us.” Due to recent events in the Cascadian city of Kenhoro, the Federation quickly collected what information they could and summoned the Cascadian ambassador. As fast as they had moved, the Cascadian government had worked equally as quickly and only a few minutes after the summons had been sent they had received the request from Cornelissen.
“Please inform me, Ambassador Cornelissen, what bothers Cascadia?” Anton smiled. Cornelissen was the guest and, by having him speak first, he could better determine his own moves. Would the demon jump straight into the topic they cared most about, or would he talk around it?
“Matters of concern,” Cornelissen intoned. “In addition to the current restrictions imposed upon the Federation regarding red crystal exports, Cascadia will immediately cease exporting blue and purple to the Federation. Furthermore, as with red, we will forbid the re-export of those crystals from the Sabanis Dominance. We regretfully take these actions in response to the Federation’s continued encouragement of the tribal warriors of the Endless Sands to bolster Republican forces.”
Skirting around the main topic then, Anton thought.
“Nonsense,” Anton immediately protested, keeping his voice calm and his temper measured through decades of political experience. “These tribesmen merely seek to earn a better living and travel to Ironburg for work. We have their visas and documents proving their reason for travel, and we even have copies of the Republican work orders. Do I need to fetch them for you to look at?”
“Regardless of what any documents say, our battalion commanders are reporting an increasing amount of tribesmen on the ground.” The Ambassador’s expression darkened. “Need I remind you of their fanatical beliefs? The tribesmen believe that by grinding down our horns, they can create ever stronger golems. We have already shown you evidence of the barbaric desecration of demon bodies. Until the Federation prohibits their travel and actively assists Cascadian efforts in stamping down on the illegal horn trade, these restrictions will be maintained.”
Anton felt the faintest pinch of annoyance but quickly quenched it before it could manifest on his face. After Cascadia had restricted the outflow of red crystal, the Federation needed to rely on less efficient explosive production utilising different crystals. This caused them to come to a mutually beneficial agreement with the desert tribes. The Federation would give them cover and means to travel to the Republic so they could find the ingredients for their magic, and the Federation would be allowed to mine the desert crystals. Cascadia’s problem was entirely their own making! Anton would love to point this out but couldn’t, as their official public opinion was that Cascadian sanctions did not affect the Federation.
Now, with reduced access to not only the red crystal of the Southern Terra-Firma, but the blue crystal of the Eastern Terra-Firma and the cold purple crystal of the Northern Terra-Firma, the Federation would essentially be cut off from all Cascadian crystal exports. The yellow crystal that fell in Centralis was never exported internationally and the green crystal from the mysterious Western Terra-Firma was hoarded by the hidden Overlord. Any attempts the Federation made to establish any kind of relationship with Cascadia’s western territory were met with failure. As far as Anton knew, even Centralis only got a small, measured amount of green crystal each year.
Still, they could get access indirectly. The Bureau had worked hard over the last few years to establish a sprawling network in the Sabanis Dominance. Through this network, they would be able to circumvent the sanctions. Even so, these activities would weigh on the treasury.
This needed a response.
“The Federation is appalled by the horn trade,” Anton said easily. “We, of course, endeavour to catch these smugglers and firmly denounce their activities. However…” Anton narrowed his eyes. “I must firmly protest the choices of your government. You cannot expect to bully us into restricting the travel of our desert neighbours with whom we have maintained friendly relations for decades. Such an action by us would risk another desert conflict. I would like to strongly communicate our disapproval of the chosen actions of the Cascadian government. Should you proceed with this path, we will have no option but to impose tariffs on Federation steel, which the Cascadian defence industry runs on.”
The Federation was the largest producer of industrial-grade steel in the Known World, and Cascadia, along with Christdom, were their largest customers. Everyone needed steel, and with an ever-larger war on the horizon, the Federation was making more gold than ever. So much gold that they couldn’t risk cutting off exports entirely. The profits of their exports to Cascadia helped pay for the expenses of alternative crystal sources.
“...I will communicate your message to my government,” Cornelissen responded neutrally. “These tariffs, what percentage would the Federation impose?”
Anton gave the figure he was authorised to share. To the demon’s credit, he didn’t show any outward change in expression. Like himself, Calvin Cornelissen was a titanic diplomat. If tensions had not been so high between the Federation and the Empire, they might have even been friends.
Maybe.
“There are other matters,” the ambassador continued. “We are, once again, greatly concerned about the increasing presence of Federation steam and aethersmiths working in Republican territory. Their assistance to the rebel government only elongates this conflict and means more death than is necessary, both human and demon.”
“Surely you don’t plan to suggest we restrict the travel of our own citizens?” Anton clasped his hands together. “There are many humans from many nations who volunteer their skills for what they believe to be a worthy cause.”
“A worthy cause?” Cornelissen intoned sarcastically. “The Republic is our overairs territory and has been for nearly a century. The interference of Christdom fanaticism caused this conflict, and the aid from the human nations fuels it. May I remind you of the barbaric attack that started this conflict? The wanton destruction of demon settlements? My government is concerned that continued indirect aid by the Federation may indicate a hostile stance.”
Anton wanted to click his tongue but managed to keep his composure. “May I remind you that it was the massacre of Republican humans in thirty-nine, a crime against humanity, committed by the forces of Greatlord Orlan, that prompted such a… visceral reaction?” Anton raised his arms in a disarming manner. “We risk an unproductive argument, Ambassador. The Federation disavows all crimes committed by both sides. We will not prohibit Federation volunteers. We do not believe this makes us a participant in the conflict.”
“Not a participant publicly.” Cornelissen’s voice took a hard edge. “For a non-participant, the Federation seems eager to trade munitions and men. I’ve heard terrible rumours that the Federation may begin providing the rebels with ships in a doomed attempt to reconstitute the decimated Republican navy.”
Anton felt his eyes narrow. How had that information leaked? Before he could respond, Cornelissen continued, “I would like to inform you that should Federation warships be used in Republican airspace to attack our forces, then Cascadia will have no choice but to consider the Federation a direct participant in the conflict.” The demon's eyes flared and an uneasy silence formed between the two men.
The ambassador had turned it up a notch, coming on more forcefully than usual. Anton took a few measured breaths and responded, “I do not believe these rumours of yours have any merit, but I will communicate your concern with my superiors. An answer will be delivered as soon as feasible.” Anton held the demon’s gaze until the ambassador nodded, satisfied.
“There is one final matter to discuss,” Cornelissen began.
Here it comes, Anton thought.
“I have been directly instructed by the Empress to raise with you the issue of the terrorist attack committed by Federation agent Polina Volkova against the civilian transport Sakamoto three days ago. Furthermore, we are concerned about her interaction with the human Amelia Thornheart, now known as Lord-Prospect Thornheart.”
Despite Anton’s extensive experience, he felt a bead of sweat form and his heart race. “Lord-Prospect?” he asked a moment too late for it to seem natural.
“Quite. Lord-Prospect Thornheart has formally and willfully been incorporated as a citizen of the Empire.” The ambassador had a glint in his eye, like a predator eyeing its prey. “Due to her magical talent and her heroic actions in preventing so many deaths during the terror attack committed by Polina Volkova, she has been awarded the title of Lord-Prospect. As I speak to you, all our other ambassadors are informing their respective counterparts of this information.”
Curse it! Christdom had moved too slowly! Anton knew the Vatican was on the brink of announcing Amelia Thornheart as their kidnapped saint. They had, along with the Federation, planned to use this as justification to expand Republican aid. What could Cascadia do after the Pope – God's messenger on earth – announced to all of humankind that Amelia Thornheart was a captured and manipulated saint!? They would have had to give her up, lest they risk a crusade!
If they went ahead with that plan now, it would have a muted effect, being seen as a frustrated reaction. If this news were true, then instead of presenting a case of humankind’s noble fight for a lost saint, it would be seen as challenging the very idea of statehood and citizenship!
As if reading his mind, the ambassador continued, “Of course, should you wish to verify Lord-Prospect Thornheart’s loyalty to Cascadia, we would happily arrange a meeting with the Federation Ambassador in Centralis.”
Tap tap tap. Anton tapped the table. His mind churned. He would need to be careful. Once he had chosen his words, he took another moment to keep his voice calm. “We have, of course, been aware of Amelia Thornheart’s existence. Her name is in all the papers: ‘The Mysterious Lost Speaker of Aseco’… Are you not concerned about how the Vatican will respond to this? They may see it as provocative.” Provocative was an understatement. This was a daring move by Cascadia that could trigger a direct war with Christdom.
“We are confident the Pope would not be so rash,” Cornelissen answered. “As you know, our ambassador to Christdom has long been expelled so we are resorting to communicating with the Vatican through diplomatic channels in Ulm. We understand that there may be concerns of a diplomatic incident considering Lord-Prospect Thornheart’s ability to Speak Aseco; however, the Empress is confident that by welcoming this human Speaker into Cascadian nobility, we can remind the world once again that demons and humans can live side-by-side, in mutual benefit.”
As if, Anton thought. If there was one consistent trend of the last few decades, it was the increasing tension of human-demon relations. As these relations had fallen, something else was building up in their wake. Something ominous and dreadful. Christdom was building their new fleets as they spoke. Centralis was constructing capital ships and in response to both, the Federation had no choice but to expand its navy for national security.
Damn it! If Cascadia wanted to avoid conflict so much, then why didn’t they just go home? Couldn’t they see how unacceptable it was for a demon territory to be established on the human continent? For the millions of Republican humans to be ruled by their demon demigod? Wasn’t their continent big enough?
“We, of course, agree,” Anton responded. “Successful human-demon relations are something the Federation always strives for. We are merely concerned that this particular human and the events surrounding her could cause unintended consequences.”
“Speaking of consequences,” Cornelissen continued. “May we turn the discussion to the terrorist Polina Volkova? We have avoided raising this matter publicly, hoping that perhaps we can settle it quietly first.” The ambassador produced a warm smile that made Anton feel like shivering.
This was going to cost them.
The Federation didn’t know what in the Six Heavens had caused the events that ended in the downing of the Sakamoto. The bureau was confused, Anton was confused, and their leader was furious.
“First and foremost,” Anton began, “we would like to inform Cascadia that the terrible and unfortunate event that transpired is categorically disavowed by the Federation, and we were all relieved to find no innocent civilians were harmed–”
“Thanks to the talent of Lord-Prospect Thornheart,” Cornelissen interrupted. “I believe you are aware there were a small number of Federation citizens on the Sakamoto who would have surely perished had it not been for her magic?”
“Yes,” Anton intoned, feeling the growing sensation of being trapped. “Please communicate our gratitude to Miss Thornheart–”
“Lord-Prospect Thornheart, Secretary,” Cornelissen said with a smile. “Let’s not disrespect her, even if we’re so far away, by ignoring her noble title.”
“...Lord-Prospect Thornheart, yes.” Anton spent a fraction of a second clenching his jaw and then forced his face into a relaxed expression. “Furthermore, if it wasn’t clear, we would like to inform your government that these events were absolutely not an intended outcome and had we been aware of the possibility of it happening, then we would have expended every effort to stop it.”
“Some might suggest not establishing intelligence cells to spy on our ships and citizens would be a good first step.” The ambassador punctuated his statement by relaxing into his chair. Anton knew as well as Cornelissen did that fieldwork like this was an established practice between Cascadia and the human kingdoms. Still, that didn’t mean they openly admitted such a thing.
“We would like to discuss transferring this… rogue agent into Federation custody,” Anton began, producing a slip of paper from his inner pocket. He passed the slip to the ambassador. “I’m sure you recognise these names.” The paper contained a list of Cascadian spies the Federation had caught and were serving lengthy prison sentences. “We would like to offer an exchange for any two names of your choosing. In addition, we will pay for all repairs for the Sakamoto.”
The ambassador glanced up from the list before slowly placing it on the table. “A tempting offer, Secretary, however…” the demon's eyes narrowed. “Considering the unique talent of Polina Volkova, a mere two names isn’t going to cut it.”
Ah shit, Anton thought. They know about her blessing.
He locked eyes with the demon for longer than was polite. “How many names to satisfy Cascadia?”
“All of them.”
“Impossible,” Anton stated firmly. “There is a limit, Ambassador. There is only so far we can stretch. Eight names.”
“Fifteen.”
“Ten, and we’ll double the payment for the Sakamoto.”
“Twelve names and you’ll pay for the Sakamoto and an additional hundred thousand denarii in compensation. This is our offer,” Cornelissen said with an element of finality.
Anton forced himself to slow down. He took a sip of his coffee, finding its now-cold bitterness entirely suitable for the atmosphere. “I will need to discuss this with my superiors,” he said. “Ambassador, would you care to stay within the Red Citadel until we can sort this out?”
“Certainly,” Cornelissen replied. “Please understand that if I need to communicate with my government, I must do so from our embassy.”
“Of course,” Anton said with a nod. Aetherfield communication was easily eavesdropped and so sensitive discussions over it required encryption. Demon cryptography had only recently caught up with human innovation and the embassy communications they had easily listened in on previously were now resistant to their efforts.
The two men settled on some further details and soon they covered everything their respective governments had requested of them. Anton stood up first, trying to regain some feeling of control.
“Ambassador, thank you for your time.”
“No, thank you, Secretary,” Cornelissen said coolly. “One last quick matter…”
“Yes?”
“A colleague of Polina Volkova, an individual identified as Natalia Marakova has escaped our capture and seriously wounded several city guards. We know she’s still in Kenhoro, hiding away in some safe house…” Cornelissen's eyes narrowed. “Instead of further conflict and risk of casualties, we’d much rather arrange a time where our guards outside the Federation embassy can look away for a few minutes and allow her to return to Federation hands. See it as”—the ambassador looked thoughtful–“a gesture of goodwill.”
“...I understand,” Anton responded after a moment's hesitation. “I will communicate this to my superiors.”
“Thank you.”
Anton called the guard in and Calvin Cornelissen was led away. For a long while after the demon was gone, Anton stood staring into space. How had all this happened? How had one human Speaker caused so much insanity to take place? How did their Intelligence Operatives, with the aid of a truth-teller, find out so little about her?
Just who the hell was Amelia Thornheart?
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