5 Landing, 6104

After a long day of negotiation, and an even longer evening at dinner, wherein the Ambassador made a great deal of small talk with his host for the evening, Dean Hio of the Sphere of Water, Ambassador Dunbarre at last returns to his quarters. He dismisses all but the two lieutenants at the door, then enters the parlor. "Would you close that, Lt. de Bellefeuille?" he asks, off-handedly, as he strolls to the secretary.

"Yes sir," responds Elise quietly, sounding faintly tired. Though the dinner was superb, as to be expected from magically perfected dishes, the long and tedious hours doing little more than listening has taken its toll on the female poodle.

Dunbarre unfolds the front of the secretary desk, revealing a crystal decanter and a set of matching glasses on a tray. The poodle ambassador removes the stopper, palming it in his left hand, then pours the amber contents into one of the glasses, while the lieutenant shuts the door. Once it is fully closed, he whirls about and hurls the stopper into a corner of the room, where it bounces between the bookcase and the wall with a clatter, then a muted thud as it hits the floor. "Rrrrrggghh!" the man half-growls, half shouts between gritted teeth. "I cannot take this anymore!"

Elise's brows raise slightly in surprise, and she might be inclined to an even greater reaction were she not minding herself. Though the ambassador might react as he pleases, she cannot, and it is her duty to at least appear calm and collected lest he call on her suddenly. For this reason too she keeps quiet, not inquiring as to his troubles.

The Temple ambassador sets the decanter forcefully back to the desktop with a thunk, and snarls, "Those ungrateful, half-witted, word-mincing, Dagh-taken, chanting little … rrrgh!" He waves his fists into the air impotently. "How long do I have to do this for? Ingrates! What more do they expect of us?" He takes up his glass from the tray, and flounces, with a spray of lace, to the couch. "Would either of you care for a drink? I desperately need this one, but there's more," he says, with a nonchalant politeness more in keeping with his normal demeanor.

Lieutenant Jaskar shifts uncomfortably, less able to conceal his unease than his fellow lieutenant. "No, thank you, sir," he declines, politely.

Elise glances at her fellow lieutenant, then looks back to the ambassador after he speaks. "No thank you, sir," she answers politely.

"Really? Pity." Dunbarre sips at his drink, closing his long-lashed eyelids as he savors it, then shakes his head. "Those damnable mages! I declare I will be stuck here 'til the end of time prattling with them! I swear we've been too kind to the doddering fools." He shakes his fist at the air. "And I hope you are listening, too! It'll serve you right to get an earful!" he shouts, as if to potential spies. "Can you credit it? The College says they want to be neutral. Fine, the Temple says. You're neutral. Never mind that Rephidim has loyally supported your kind for two thousand years! You don't want to fight for our cause, fine, whatever. You don't have to. Far be it from us to compel your self-righteous … " He pauses, looking to Elise, and continues, "… selves to be useful for a change."

Although previously being able to hide a great deal of her agitation, Elise does shifts at the unpleasant attention. The timing of the look is as weighty as the look itself. Certainly, she would prefer to avoid the ambassador's wrath while he is angry. She has felt it before and she still recalls how sore her wrist was from copying those texts.

The poodle takes another sip, grimaces, and continues, "Then, they want to be more independent. 'We need our own place. We'll take this lovely sky island,'" he says, in a high falsetto. "'Fine,' the Temple tells them. 'Whatever makes you happy.' And now the cursed fools won't even trade with us on favorable terms! We've coddled them, protected them, loved them like a favorite child, and this is our thanks? 'Oh, we can't do that. The Himaat would think it favoritism.' Well, and aren't we entitled to a little favoritism? After all we've done for them? After all we're still doing for them?" He gestures vaguely to Elise.

The poodle woman frowns towards the end of the ambassador's rant. She seems to register his complaints with sadness, nodding slightly, though stopping herself when she realizes she's doing it.

"We have ferreted out conspiracies for them, helped them with their research, sacrificed sleep itself to their cause! And what do I get in return? Hand-wringing and sniveling about 'fairness'! Bah! It's enough to drive a Gallee to drink." Dunbarre takes another sip from his glass for punctuation. "Oh, wait, it did." He waves his hand at the two guards. "And do relax, you two. I'm not yelling at you, so you can stop looking at me like I'm about to pull out a bullwhip or a three-foot stack of paperwork."

Lieutenant Jaskar starts to smile at that, and quickly averts his eyes, turning his head slightly to avoid displaying the expression. "Yes, sir," he replies, the words slightly muffled.

Again the female poodle glances to her fellow officer for a moment. Looking back, she inclines her head respectfully and shifts to simply stand where she is instead of being at attention, hoping if the ambassador is surrounded by those who appear relaxed it may calm him. "Of course. Thank you, sir," she says.

"You're allowed to laugh at that if you want to, too," Dunbarre adds, with a sidelong glance to Jaskar. "It was a joke. It was supposed to be funny." He sinks deeper into the couch. "You can laugh at me, too, for that matter. I'm sure everyone else is." A melodramatic sigh, then the poodle takes another sip from his glass.

For once tonight Elise goes to speak when not first spoken to, saying, "Sir, I know you are doing the best you can. No one can fault you for such. That you can continue on like this speaks well of you."

"Sorry, sir," Lieutenant Jaskar offers, apologetically. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, then quietly slinks to one of the chairs and unobtrusively sits.

The white poodle's curls bob as he inclines his head at Elise's words. "Kind of you to say so, my lady, but good intentions count for naught at the Temple. I need to better than try. Better than my best, it seems." Dunbarre makes a face, then swishes a sip of brandy around in his mouth before downing it. "All right. Tell me, you two. What am I doing wrong?" He holds up a hand, lace frills framing it, as if to forestall objections. "And I promise I won't yell at you for whatever you say now. Or hold it against you later. Temple Scout's honor," he finishes, making the star-and-anchor sign.

"The College … despite our offers of assistance, and our help, finds it in part insulting," offers the lady poodle. She steps forward so that she might be heard better and folds her hands neatly behind her back. "Some of their number fear it may appear they can do nothing without our assistance. For this reason in part, I believe they react negatively to our offers. They seem to hold their independent state in high regard."

"Insulting?" The Ambassador looks aghast. "What, they'd rather muck along with assassins and traitors in their midst than have us come in and point it out? Is it our fault they can't keep their own house clean and we have to do it for them?"

Elise shakes her head. "That is not to say they all think ill of our help. There are some who are grateful for our help. However, I believe the problem here is pride. Theirs is great, and perhaps too so is ours. They take significant pride in being able to handle their own matters as a neutral body, feeling that needing outside assistance weakens this, their self-sufficiency," the woman explains. "I think that for the moment, as they learn to solidify their independent status, they are having … 'growing pains', as it were. They are as a whole uncomfortable with assistance in their infancy. They have not yet come to understand the value of mutual assistance for this reason. That is my opinion."

The other poodle rests his elbow against the arm of the couch and rests the side of his muzzle against his hand, listening to Elise as he swirls the remainder of his drink morosely. At length, he says, "An apt opinion, at that. I should have thought of it myself. I wonder if the Temple really knew what it was doing, letting them go like this. It's like … telling your son he's all grown up now. And on his own. I am not sure either of us is ready for that."

"Unfortunately that is too late to corrected, if that indeed was the mistake made," Elise comments. Her head shifts and she searches for a seat. "Now, they are set upon their neutrality. They are their own country."

Dunbarre snorts, glancing to Elise. "They're not quite ready to admit that yet. But it's the truth. They act in too many ways like a sovereign nation to keep pretending 'Oh, we're just a simple guild' forever." He hmms, rotating the bowl of his glass between his fingers. "I have been trying to capitalize on that fact … but perhaps I need to do so in a different manner."

Despite herself, the woman smirks. "Excuse me, sir. I suppose I have become accustomed to thinking of them as a nation, if simply to ease my duties. They are best handled as such, from what I have observed," she apologizes.

He waves one hand to her negligently, lace fluttering around his wrist. "No matter, Lieutenant. I suspect a great many people do the same. Just don't be saying it to any of the College's officials, hmmm? No need to encourage them further. As if treating them to a Rephidim Ambassador were not encouragement enough … ah, well, no one asked my opinion on that. But, let me think, now. Strategy… ," he ponders, taking the final swallow from his drink.

Elise walks over and takes a seat at one of the tall chairs, carefully arranging her robes as she lowers herself down, and shifting her sword so as to not get it caught. Havingnothing to say regarding strategy, she remains quiet for now.

"All right. Let's assume they already know they owe the Temple everything and resent us for it, so I should stop reminding them of it." He taps long, slender fingers against the side of his glass, then swings to his feet to refill it. "Are you sure you're not interested in a drink, de Bellefeuille? Jaskar?" he asks, glancing to each in turn.

The female officer considers the bottle for a moment then shakes her head, answering, "I had best not."

Jaskar, who had quietly taken one of the books from the shelves and was leafing through it, looks to Dunbarre at the query. "I'll take a glass, sir, thank you."

"On second thought … I have changed my mind." The poodle woman shifts in her seat closer to the ambassador. "If you would, sir?"

"You ought to learn – " Dunbarre starts to say, admonishingly, to Elise, then chuckles at her as she offers her change of heart, finishing, "to drink, Lieutenant de Bellefeuille." He waggles a finger at her, filling two glasses, and carries them to the two lieutenants. "Alcohol is the prime tool of all politicians. And don't think you can keep yourself out of politics, young lady – you're anofficer and a noble, and twice-cursed for it," he concludes, giving each of them their drinks, then returning for his own.

The woman accepts her drink which she holds in a hand, letting it hover off the edge of her chair where her arm rests. "I am afraid I am already entrenched in politics, though of a more subtle sort than yours, sir. And thank you," she tells him. Her eyes then shift from the ambassador to her glass, and she studies it, as if considering.

"Now. If the College resents their Father-Temple, perhaps I need to present us as more like a partner. If I can't play upon their conscience, mayhap I can play upon their greed and insecurity. It's a cold, cruel world out there. The Temple needs its friends as surely as Caroban does." Dunbarre fills the snifter a third of the way, then resumes his seat.

Elise lifts the glass, still studying it, though now holding it before her as if about to take a sip. "The Temple, as anyone knows, is the most powerful of all nations and the seat of the most widespread of religions. We offer much. And we are much what others are not. However … others have materials, places, and many other things we do not. Why would they chose neutrality over Temple affiliation? These things? Perhaps, but also … they are afraid." The glass resumes its course, and the woman takes a sip of it, inhaling swift and sudden through her nose afterwards.

"We're all afraid." Dunbarre clicks his tongue against the top of his mouth. "It isn't as if I am asking them to go to war for us, either. We want better access to their mages, to magic, and fewer tariffs imposed on goods sent here. As if tuition wasn't enough for them – tariffs! Bah. And if they're afraid at what the appearance of an alliance might cost them – well, perhaps they need to be reminded what not having Rephidim for an ally would cost," he murmurs, darkly.

"That seems viable. Perhaps we should explore the reasons they might reject such an alliance, and consider from there. Of course stubbornness and pride seem to be a great deal part of this as any logical reason," says the lady poodle. For the moment she doesn't seem inclined to another sip, the first seemingly much for her as was displayed in her reaction.

A slight smirk forms on Dunbarre's muzzle, soon obscured by one delicate hand, as he takes another taste from his glass. "Stubbornness and pride, yes. I have accounted for most of the logical objections, just not enough of the irrational ones." His fingers tap against the side of his glass again, then he rises in one smooth motion. "Well, it has been a long day for all of us. I think I shall retire to contemplate this matter. I thank you for your advice, Lieutenant de Bellefeuille," he says, bowing smoothly to her. "Lieutenants Jaskar, de Bellefeuille, you may consider yourselves dismissed for the evening. Rest well, and I will see you on the morrow."

The poodle rises to her feet and, finding no place to put her drink, salutes around it. "Dismissed … " She eyes the drink, then endures another sip before continuing, " … unfortunately, I have tests to be present at. I am ever the active test subject."

Dunbarre pauses at the door to his chamber, wrinkling his muzzle as he glances over his shoulder to Elise at her comment. "Of course, I forget myself. In that case … pleasant dreams to you, Lieutenant." He offers her a faint smile.

The smile is returned even as the lady poodle seems to be weathering the liquor. From all appearances it would seem she doesn't drink much at all. "I thank you for your concern, sir. It … is a fascinating world beyond the waking one … but ever so trying." She turns, and begins slowly walking towards a position near the door. "An … interesting look at Eeee culture, most certainly." Another drink is taken and she turns, considering the door and the tests beyond it.