Chapter Ten: The Masked Red
January 20th, 1882. 0500, Imperial Hotel, Tarhen.

The bellowing of the Muezzin wakes Diplomatic Incident from his fitful slumber, the long rolling cries ringing in Diplomatic Incident’s ears. The grey haired, fastidious clerk has always been a light sleeper, and on this occasion he’s lighter than most. Being able to move from out cold to functional inside of ten seconds has been helpful over the course of his long and storied career. Soft pillows are the first thing that Diplomatic Incident notices, soft pillows and luxurious blankets. Diplomatic Incident smiles slightly as his eyes slowly open and he takes in his living quarters.

The Imperial Hotel in Tarhen is one of the most luxurious hotels in the city. Designed to cater to foreign traders and the super wealthy, the proprietor has an ‘understanding’ with the Morality Police that allows a respectable wet bar along with various amenities that Diplomatic Incident does not wish to know about. No expense has been spared on the bed or board, with luxurious plum carpets and fine teak and mahogany furniture. Diplomatic Incident slowly sits up in the four poster bed, gazing around the room, which he’s staying in courtesy of the Equestrian Taxpayer. He groans softly, reaching down to massage his right knee as it starts to ache gently. A series of ancient scars decorate the flesh, reminders of Diplomatic Incident’s misspent youth.

Old scars for an old man.

Diplomatic Incident stiffens as he hears movement in his room, becoming aware of a soft scraping sound and his eyes flick to his vanity desk, where a young quean, or a female Khan, is pouring through the books in his trunk, in this particular case “Kapital”, a manifesto by the revolutionary thinker Proletarian Advance. He’d been asked to read it by Princess Celestia, as apparently a large faction of the Valorossiyans are taking an interest in Proletarian Advance's writings. Diplomatic Incident isn’t sure why that’s an issue however he is sure that Proletarian Advance’s writings are banned in the Khanate. Diplomatic Incident had left it out on his bedside table, having found the writing dreadfully dull. However it seems that not everyone agrees.

Diplomatic Incident clears his throat sharply and the maid jumps, squeaking as her fur stands up on end. She whirls round, staring at the Equestrian in his nightshirt and her eyes widen as her tail flicks this way and that beneath her robes. Diplomatic Incident climbs out of bed, looking the girl up and down. She doesn’t look like a plant for the Khanate’s spy service, Diplomatic Incident knows all of them by name. No, this one just looks like a young female who has been caught with her fingers in the pantry. She’s blushing hard beneath her fur.

Diplomatic Incident clears his throat softly and holds his hand out for the book, which the maid hands him, looking embarassed.
“Thank you” Diplomatic Incident says softly, speaking in Fars'ym, the dialect of the Khans. "Do you like to read?"

“Yes sir” She replies brightly “I have read all the books in the hotel library, or at least all the ones in the women’s section... They are dreadfully dull, if you will excuse my forthrightness sir."
Diplomatic Incident nods slowly, his eyes on her hands. She seems to be very expressive with her gestures, which is rather odd for the normally stoic Khans. Her ears flick back and forth beneath her headscarf in a fasion that Diplomatic Incident has learnt to interpret as nervousness.

"That does not surprise me mademoiselle, the Prophet has opinions on the role of women. I doubt he would be pleased with you reading this book." Diplomatic Incident cautions the young quean.

"With respect to the Prophet, he had seven wives. I doubt his opinions about women could be considered complimentary, or unbiased." She replies and Diplomatic Incident chuckles.

"Touche," He replies "Still, it would not be wise to pull the tiger's tale by reading books like that, why not start on something fictitious like this?" He asks, reaching into his trunk and pulling out a leather bound book titled "War of the Worlds" by Clock Watcher.

She takes the book from him, gazing at the brown cover in wonder.
"What is it about?" She asks quietly, flicking the book open.

"Distant neighbours of the Valorossiyans coming from the stars and invading Equestria apparently... the conclusion was a little shaky but the rest of it was a rather gripping read. The idea is very original if nothing else. A friend of mine gave it to me as a birthday present."

The maid opens the book hungrily and starts flicking through the pages, her eyes alive. Diplomatic Incident watches her lose herself in the book for a moment, before he turns to head into the bathroom. When he returns, dressed in the long flowing robes of a Khanate merchant, the quean is still devouring the book, her eyes alive with pleasure. Diplomatic Incident smiles for a second, before clearing his throat.

"Milady of the tail." He says and she jumps, her hand going to her chest.
"You startled me sir." She squeaks and Diplomatic Incident chuckles.

"Everyone likes a good book now and again, and you are more than welcome to read it... when you are not taking other chores." He holds his hand up quickly as her eyes start to shine enthusiastically. "You do have a job to do after all, but I have no objections to you reading that book." The maid smiles and nods happily as she heads for the door.

"One last thing child," Diplomatic Incident adds, "do not tell anyone of these books, they could find you in very hot water." The quean gives him a hard look in return, before she closes the door behind her.

Diplomatic Incident chuckles as she leaves, before he turns back to his belongings, relieved. He doesn't need the hired help to be stumbling upon the items he's brought in with him. It would be slightly problematic for him but somewhat more problematic for the help. He'd just be executed as a spy or for 'seditious and immoral behaviour', she'd probably face a term in the infamous Arzad prison.

These are the stakes we play by, Chap and these are our rules. He reminds himself as he slides his elephant pistol back into the concealed holster. Having a concealed weapon is technically illegal but in these dangerous times, Diplomatic Incident has a feeling that most people are packing heat, if his glance at the bullet scarred shell of the former Equestrian Embassy yesterday was anything to go by.

Diplomatic Incident finishes packing his things and heads out. He has a meeting today, and he'd rather not be late. His friend regards lateness as a deliberate slight, and reacts to deliberate slights as one would expect a Valorossiyan to. With a kiss on your cheek and a hug, before sliding the knife between the third and fourth rib. Diplomatic Incident grimaces as he sweeps out, through the door of his suite and in the direction of the main staircase. Diplomatic Incident sees no need for skulking around back entrances and using service elevators. Far better for your enemy to miss you in plain sight after all. Thus, Diplomatic Incident makes his way down the well furnished corridor, past various peoples of other nationalities, mostly fellow Equestrians, though a few Khans are scattered here and there. After a few moments of meandering, Diplomatic Incident makes it to the stairway, an elaborate white spiral staircase with brass railings and more plush red carpet. A tree is growing in the centre of the stairwell, and it's a real tree, or at least the songbirds fluttering out of its boughs seem to think so. Overhead a bright dome constructed of frosted glass allows the sun's rays to cast their brilliant radiance across the scene. Diplomatic Incident smirks slightly at the sight of such extravagance and he wonders exactly what colour Celestia will turn when she sees the bill he will have to present her with when he gets home.

Diplomatic Incident shrugs and makes his way down to the front desk, waving at the polite young receptionist before heading out into the shaded courtyard, and from there into the blazing heat of the Khanate proper. Diplomatic Incident cracks his knuckles softly, feeling the reassuring weight of the piece at his hip.
Time to see if you've still got your dancing shoes on, Old Chap.

Stepping out into the courtyard of the Imperial Hotel, the heat hits him like a hammer blow. Even this early in the day, the temperature on Tarhen's streets is brutal and it only gets worse as the day goes on. Diplomatic Incident crosses the courtyard, waving off enthusiastic offers from various rickshaw drivers, their brass horses tossing their heads, clashing their hooves upon the cobbles and billowing steam from the stacks rising from their backs. Diplomatic Incident has always preferred to travel on foot, or else control the reins himself. With that thought in mind, he heads out through the pedestrian gate, through ten foot high perimeter wall and into the city of Tarhen itself.

Tarhen is a large city by any standard, much larger than Canterlot. However where Canterlot reaches for the sky with towering spires, Tarhen sprawls across the landscape with drab low buildings. Home for over three million cats, Tarhen is a city built mostly of dull cement and adobe, and even here, in the more well to do quarters, the buildings still look utilitarian and functional, with very little interest paid to aesthetics. However even at this hour, the streets are alive with biped and quadruped walkers and steam-cycle couriers, and even actual livestock-driven vehicles being pulled by scaly beasts of burden that Diplomatic Incident has never seen before, their hides streaked with dust and dirt from the roads as they plod along.

Diplomatic Incident starts heading down the road, allowing himself to get lost in the thronging crowd of robed cats. All around him, the street is jammed with hawkers selling this and that from garishly colored roadside stalls and cats on their way to work or prayers and kits on their way to school, the cries of market vendors and the musical hubbub of a city of cats ringing in the air. Diplomatic Incident smiles to himself as he makes his way along broad straight streets. He can feel something in the air, a very palpable sense of tension. Beneath the laughing jovial bustle of the vendors and the squealing giggling of the school-kits, all the cats around Diplomatic Incident are nervous. It's not something that's easy to detect, fur standing slightly more on edge than usual, fathers casting nervous glances around the street as they stand close to their young ones. Diplomatic Incident cannot see any females at all. All these are subtle threat indicators, anyone that did not know what they were looking at would miss these signs, but Diplomatic Incident has been around the block a few times.

Diplomatic Incident's smile fades as he sees a disturbance making its way through the crowd. The sharp rap of sticks on stonework and loud male voices calling to each other in shrill raucous tones. Diplomatic Incident continues walking, even as he hears the sound of tambourines ringing in the air, the jangling clattering in the air a surer warning than the click of a hammer being drawn back. The disturbance draws closer and Diplomatic Incident spots the group for the first time. A large group of between ten to twelve adolescent males, dressed in the crimson robes of acolytes, their faces dyed with elaborate patterns that remind Diplomatic Incident more of bandit masks than anything else. They are carrying long wooden poles that have obviously been used at least once today if the dark red smears on their loose fitting uniforms are anything to go by. Diplomatic Incident knows exactly who they are of course. They're Basijis, a militia of sorts that assist the actual police in enforcing the strict religious laws. Diplomatic Incident notices two of them are carrying En-Kar rifles that still bear the Legion D'etrangere markings on their stocks.
What's the betting that you chaps were involved in the sacking of the Embassy? Diplomatic Incident asks himself.

The cats make their way down the street, the crowd parting for them. Those that do not move fast enough get swatted with a baton, or their legs get swept from under them. Diplomatic Incident continues walking. He's here under his own name, and he's known to the Khanate as a diplomatic attache. Any cat who wants to pick a fight with him, even a cat bristling with righteous zeal would have to be a moron to do so, especially with tensions being what they are between the Khanate and the Empire. The leader of the group has other ideas however. He raises his baton and points it at Diplomatic Incident and snaps out a sharp command in Equestrian.
"Stop!" He snaps and Diplomatic Incident slowly lowers his hand to his waist.
Guess they want to stop and have a chat, oh well, one must stop and greet the natives from time to time, maybe they want Princess Celestia's autograph. He thinks sullenly.

"Equestrian Spy!" The leader bellows and Diplomatic Incident struggles to keep from rolling his eyes. Whilst the description is technically true, it’s not exactly accurate and it confirms these people as amateurs in Diplomatic Incident’s eyes.
Years ago perhaps, not anymore I think.
"Excuse me?" Diplomatic Incident asks, the very picture of righteous indignation. "I have no idea what on earth you are talking about sir, I happen to be attached to the Equestrian government as a diplomatic attache. You will find my paperwork in order."
The leader of the group stalks closer to Diplomatic Incident and grabs him, slamming Diplomatic Incident against the wall.

"Do not play games with us," He snarls, his fetid breath washing over Diplomatic Incident, the zealot's long sharp teeth uncomfortably close to Diplomatic Incident's face. "We know you are a spy for your bitch-queen. Who sent you, the Foreign Office or the Navy?"

"Why, Princess Celestia herself sent me here as part of a diplomatic mission. Now sir, I must insist you unhand me this instant or I shall be forced to send a strongly worded letter to your Chapter-House, do I make myself clear?"

This gives the thugs pause for thought, then the zealot steps backwards, releasing Diplomatic Incident, only for a second thug to smash his baton into Diplomatic Incident's bad leg, causing him to howl as stars dance before his eyes. That might sting somewhat, come the morrow.

Diplomatic Incident drops to the ground, the zealot promptly steps upon his chest, driving the air out of Diplomatic Incident's lungs. The zealot then puts his stick to Diplomatic Incident's throat. Around him, Diplomatic Incident can hear the lower pitched growling of the zealot’s grubby little friends as the cat forces the air out of Diplomatic Incident’s lungs with a wheeze.
"Maybe we need to make ourselves understood clearly, perhaps this Equestrian spy needs his ears cleaned out?" He snaps, and his colleague kicks Diplomatic Incident in the side of the head, causing him to yell out in pain. However Diplomatic Incident can see reinforcements coming. Black trouser clad legs are moving through the throng and whistles are being blown, though the thugs are currently taking no notice of anything other than him, content to enjoy the show.

"Sir, I must advise that you may wish to reconsider your current course of action." Diplomatic Incident cautions the young zealot.

The zealot draws back his lips in a lethal snarl.
"Or what?"

Diplomatic Incident draws his pistol and draws the hammer back.
"Or else I will shoot you in the face, sir."

The zealot's eyes widen and his stick suddenly comes away from Diplomatic Incident's face. The two with En-Kar rifles raise them but they look rather uncomfortable holding the weapons designed for considerably longer arms, which suits Diplomatic Incident just fine.
"Now, since we have reached an amicable understanding- my dear fellow, do not menace me with that rifle, yes you do look very scary but it might help if you turned the safety off first." The Khan fumbles the rifle and very nearly drops it.

"You cannot have that pistol, it's a crime!" The leader snaps and Diplomatic Incident nods slowly, as if congratulating a slow child.

"Under the Khanate’s laws yes, but I’m operating under an Equestrian diplomatic concealed carry permit. If you wish for that permit to be rescinded, you can register a letter of complaint with the Equestrian Embassy on Quassem-Keriyah... oh wait, you burnt that down."

The thug looks flustered, as the whistles grow louder. Finally his friends are noticing the fact that their party is about to be gatecrashed.
"I'm glad we did!" The thug bellows, the threat of the pistol barely enough to keep him in line. "Your princess ran like a little bitch with her tail between her legs."

"We', so you're saying that you, as instruments of the Khanate government, knowingly perpetrated an act of war upon Equestria?" Diplomatic Incident growls, keeping the pistol up in the aim.

""I'll give you act of war!" He draws the staff back to strike Diplomatic Incident, however before he does so, a tall snowy white skinned figure dressed in a simple black smock and trousers forces her way through the group of thugs and grabs the zealot and bodily shoves him away, her other hand grabbing the staff and yanking it out of his hand.

"You call that an 'act of war'?" The Val snaps, her cold grey eyes flinty. "That looks more like foreplay to me, do you wish to see an act of war?"

The thug stares up at the Val, who calmly snaps the leader’s staff with one hand as though it is little more than rotten driftwood. She then discards the staff and grabs the neck of the leader before he can leap away, her fingers closing around his neck.
"The rest of you may go, this one must stay and answer charges." Her voice brooks no argument. Her head is uncovered, in flagrant violation of the law, however Diplomatic Incident pities the first law enforcement official who tries to enforce that particular piece of legislation. Vals are willingly bound by only one set of laws, their own.

"You two, drop your rifles. You're too young to be out playing with those toys." The Valorossiyan glowers as two Khanate police officers roll up on the scene, take in the angry Val and decide they have no desire to meet their maker today, both turning in unison and walking resolutely away.

Diplomatic Incident picks himself up and grins at the Val as she stands there, clutching the zealot by his throat.

"Do you belive in God?" She asks, and the zealot nods quickly, his eyes widening as he realizes the tall snowy white skinned figure before him means business. Intent gleams in all four of her eyes, and Diplomatic Incident knows that the Val would like nothing better than to gut this Khan.

"I am His most faithful servant." The Zealot's fear is clear to see as the Val's grip starts to tighten around his neck. The Val looks bored, as though this is something she does on a daily basis. As Diplomatic incident reflects on that, he decides that it probably is.

"Faith... that's an interesting question." The Val says softly "You see, we define faith as a belief that is held with absolute conviction. You believe your God is a merciful God right? You trust this completely?"

"Yes, yes I do!" The Khan squeals, his hands grasping at her wrist as she lifts him off the ground to her head-height.

"Good, because I am now going to give you the opportunity to prove it." The Val says, her tone conversational as her grip tightens around the boy's neck.

"Do you believe that your God can save you?" She asks, her Equestrian eerily perfect, despite the very faint Valorossiyan accent.

The Khan is frantically whispering prayers, obviously terrified. A dark stain spreads across his baggy trousers. He kicks his legs and struggles, however the Valorossiyan merely squeezes tighter. "I do not repeat myself often so let me ask once more, do you think Your God can save you?"

"He will if he wishes it." The Khan whimpers, his legs kicking.

The Val nods. "We shall see about that," She says, then she starts to squeeze harder for a few moments before Diplomatic Incident clears his throat pointedly.

“I think you’ve made your point, Lady Ambassador,” He says, and the Val clicks her tongue softly.

“Your God moves in mysterious ways it would seem,” She says after a moment, her grip relaxing slightly on the Khan’s throat.

“He loves you, he cares for you, and he will forgive you all your trespasses.” She says, her tone bright and conversational. “And we are all God’s servants are we not? I see you threatening diplomats again, you shall have far more to worry about than a firmly worded letter, do I make myself quite plain?” Her tone hardens and she clenches her other hand into a fist to make her meaning abundantly clear. The Khan nods quickly as the Val lowers him to the ground and releases his throat. The Khan falls to his knees, coughing and spluttering and whispering invocations. The Val watches him for a second, before turning to Diplomatic Incident.

“Good to see you again, Leonid.” She says, using the name that Diplomatic Incident had used the first time he had met her. “I’d wondered briefly if you'd managed to get yourself sidetracked or distracted. It is good to see you are mingling with the natives by the way. They are rather charming and pleasant, though that might have something to do with my people making the ones who are rude into hats."

"Madam Ambassador Adrelana, it has been far too long," He replies "I was in the area and heard from my sources that you were here and so I thought we could arrange a meeting to discuss... developments within the Union?"

Zsaryna Adrelana snorts. "Developments Leonid? Things are as they always have been." She says sadly, turning and walking down the street, Diplomatic Incident following close behind.
"The tribes are all licking their wounds from last year's season and girding their loins for the killing that will happen this coming year. Vladmir-Illych is having words with the Elders of the Northern Alliance to see if there is a possibility of forming a compact, if there is then we shall have a bloc capable of maybe enforcing peace upon our nation for the first time." Diplomatic Incident notes Zsaryna's pessimistic tone and her sour expression.

"You do not sound too thrilled about that possibility." He comments and she shrugs.

"It is a fool's errand, peace would be good if it happens but I will not hold my breath for that moment." Zsaryna replies as she forces her way through the swirling crowds. "But I did not summon you so we could speak of developments within my nation, I came to give you a warning to pass on to your Princesses."

The two round a corner and the crowds suddenly vanish as they walk down the broad boulevard. Diplomatic Incident's lips suddenly become dry. Even from here he can smell the faint smell of smoke. Diplomatic Incident's gaze flicks upwards, to the buildings that are pockmarked with bullet holes. Curtains and shutters have been slammed shut, thought Diplomatic Incident can see brief flashes of gold as eyes hurriedly glance at him before flickering away. He licks dry lips with a dry tongue as he glances up at his resolute companion. Diplomatic Incident knows this road very well, it's Quassem-Keriyah street, the street on which the former Equestrian Embassy stood.

The two of them round a corner and Diplomatic Incident spots the ruined perimeter fence first, the ten foot tall railings twisted and buckled as though a giant has wrenched them apart. Beyond the fence, he can see the right side of the building itself. The red brick walls are pitted with bullet holes, like the building has come down with a sudden case of acne. The vacant, empty windows where shadows dance stare down at him like the empty eye sockets of a skull, silent and accusatory.

Graffiti has been scrawled across the walls, slogans making fun of the Princesses or Equestria or the dead Legionnaires. Bloodstains also decorate the walls or the floor where a Legion bullet found its mark or the Khans managed to overwhelm their mark. Policemen from the Khanate are poking over the ruins, as are officers from the Ministry of Truth, their golden robes flashing in the morning light. Several are grouped before the entrance, taking notes on their sketchpads whilst Archivist-bots sit gently clicking and steaming behind them.

"We have heard that you wish to bring a Princess here to try and calm the situation down, to normalize the Khanate’s relationship with Equestria or at least to allow your expats to evacuate," Zsaryna mutters as several Ministry of Truth operatives cast disparaging glances at them. “I would advise against this course of action. This country is tearing itself apart and the last thing you want is to get Equestria tied up in a civil war. You do not wish to get your head of state involved in what could become another very messy civil war.”

Diplomatic Incident nods grimly. “It is not my head of state, Princess Celestia remains in Canterlot.”

“Well it cannot be that third one, she is occupied in the North... Do you seriously tell me that you are deploying Princess Sparkle, here?” Zsaryna’s expression is incredulous, as if she cannot quite believe what she is hearing.

Diplomatic Incident merely nods quickly “It is indeed Princess Twilight Sparkle”

“Do you expect me to believe that?” Zsaryna growls “She has only three years experience and you are sending her here! Do not lie to me Leonid!”

“I do not make a habit of lying to my friends, or to people who could break me in half with their little finger, I count you in both categories Zsaryna” Diplomatic Incident raises his hands to mollify the Valorossiyan, who still looks distinctly skeptical.

“If there was an Equestrian I could trust it would be you, Leonid.” For a second, Diplomatic Incident spots the ghost of something that could have almost been a smile cross Zsaryna’s face, before she claps him on the shoulder and turns away from the ruined shell of the Embassy.

“Come now Leonid, let us go to the market… I daresay you have children at home to buy presents for, yes?”

“As a matter of fact I don’t.” Diplomatic Incident says with a shrug “Women come and go as women will, but there has not been… well I’m not really the stay at home type”

“Really? I never would have guessed.” Zsaryna rolls her upper, more expressive set of eyes. “Walking down the street in a country that is going to hell dressed like an arms dealer, I certainly had you pinned as the stay at home type.” She chuckles, before turning on her heel and starting to walk away, Diplomatic Incident following close behind.

As the two make their way back out onto the bustling thoroughfare, Zsaryna leans in close to Diplomatic Incident. “I have some friends I would like you to meet, moderates, insofar as such a thing can exist in the Khanate… they have powerful connections and they do not desire war with Equestria. They could be useful for you.” She explains “They will not meet with the Princess for their own reasons, however they will meet you in your capacity as an Equestrian representative.”

Diplomatic Incident nods. In the ten days that he’s been here he has managed to secure full diplomatic entry permits for Twilight and himself as well as three full companies of Legionnaires for ‘Protective Escort Duties’. However he has not been able to do much else, other than assure Princess Celestia that the Khanate has not fallen on its face just yet. With each passing day Diplomatic Incident can see more signs however. Signs that tell him that the Khanate may not be long for this world. More soldiers are appearing on the streets, and the Basijis are becoming increasingly violent and desperate. Graffiti is appearing on walls. Attacks on government buildings by groups of rebels are becoming increasingly common and government reprisals are becoming increasingly brutal as the government tries to keep its citizens in check.

Diplomatic Incident can only hope he’s making the right decision by allowing Twilight to come here and try and calm the situation down, at least with regard to what’s going on between Equestria and the Khanate. What happens inside the Khanate is of limited concern to Diplomatic Incident and if they want to tear themselves apart, then that is their business. However if Twilight lands here and is met with gunfire, then it becomes Equestria’s problem.

Diplomatic Incident follows Zsaryna out, back into the busier streets filled with noise and bustle. A trip through the Prinz-Zaeyeda markets always lifts his spirits and his friend Fancy Pants, a well known philanthropist and investment broker is always game for any souvenirs or tall tales for his dinner parties. There is little he can do to make Twilight’s arrival any easier at this point after all, all he can really do is make a judgement call and ensure the documentation that Twilight requires is in order when she arrives. He’s met with various Khanate officials, all of whom were suitably apologetic about a “dreadful oversight” and he’s managed to draw up a rather busy schedule for the Princess. Whilst Celestia and Luna prefer to wing it when it comes to events like these, Princess Sparkle prefers things to be neatly laid out and just so, and a good thing too, since she doesn't really have the diplomatic clout required to wing it.

Diplomatic Incident forcefully yanks his mind away from that particular train of thought. It is a trail that his mind has wandered down repeatedly over the course of the last few days to no useful purpose. It is a train of thought that puts almost no faith in Twilight’s abilities as a diplomat, not to mention his own as a teacher.

“Leonid?” Zsaryna’s voice is concerned and Diplomatic Incident looks up to see the Val gazing down at him with something approaching concern. “Are you well?”

“Perfectly fine Zsaryna, I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Care to discuss it with me?” Zsaryna asks and Diplomatic Incident chuckles.

“It does not bear discussing, my lady.” He replies and a grey flush dances across the Valorossiyan’s face, but a real smile appears on her face, the corners of her lips curling upwards whilst the lips themselves remain closed. It is very rare to see a Valorossiyan actually smiling, and the sight of it lights a fire in Diplomatic Incident’s belly.

“Good to see you remember.” She says, reaching out and squeezing his warm hand quickly in her cool grip before releasing, a quick clasp and nothing more. It is a chaste luxury afforded by the crowds around them, otherwise neither would have been so bold in public “I trust you will be here five weeks from now?” She asks gently, and Diplomatic Incident nods in reply.
“Of course, this visit doesn't have a definite endpoint.” Diplomatic Incident smiles up at the ambassador.

“Excellent, I’m sure you’re aware of the Revolution Day ball at the palace?”

“Are you asking me out Lady Ambassador?” Diplomatic Incident asks and Zsaryna’s lower set of eyes narrow very slightly.

“Perhaps.” She says softly, tapping her fingers twice against the skin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Excellent, I shall make arrangements to attend.” Diplomatic Incident replies.

“What about your newspapers?”

“To hell with them Zsary. None shall be covering this event and if they do then let them. We can spin it as ‘symbolism of Equestria’s growing relation with the Union perhaps?’” Diplomatic Incident smiles up at the Valorossiyan that has claimed his heart, who nods brightly.

“Perhaps it will give me a chance to meet Equestria’s newest princess also?” The Valorossiyan asks and Diplomatic Incident nods.

“She will no doubt be present and I am sure she would like to meet you.” Diplomatic Incident says as the two of them turn, the crowds getting steadily more dense as more people head to the temple or else to the market. The short portly aging diplomat and the tall stately Valorossiyan at his elbow make an odd couple, yet none of the cats around them notice or if they do then none of them pass a comment. Diplomatic Incident feels at peace with the world right now, as he makes his way toward the bazaar, the Valorossiyan ambassador in tow.

Author's Notes:

I haven't forgotten you guys, I promise.
Buisiness has been busier than usual and I didn't want this chapter to be released until it was ready.
With that in mind, hope you enjoy, if you wish to leave feedback, feel free to leave a comment.
No feedback makes me a sad panda.