Chapter 10: 9: Grainboat Diplomacy

Isabella and Valerio sat down at the head of the table, opposite Giovanni and his two closest aides whose name Isabella didn’t know. The gazes cast their way were cold, expressionless—a far cry from the polite amiability that had been directed toward them not half an hour ago.

“Here is the situation as we understand it, Princess Isabella,” Giovanni began, foregoing the pleasantries of the lunch before them. “King Edgar II has proven to be a decisive and expectant man. Already, we’ve heard of several incidents that intrigue us at this event. His purging of the royal dungeon. His last-minute demotion of Count Faust for your appointment in his stead.”

Decisive and expectant were likely euphemisms for arbitrary and delusional. His polite framing even amidst this scenario proved his talent as the head ambassador. Isabella waited for him to continue politely.

“All of the lesser ambassadors, who should be serving underneath you, are instead looking to the demoted Count Faust for their cues,” Giovanni continued. “They undermine you at almost every opportunity, and insist that your appointment is only a temporary one. The only ally you had in that room seemed to be your partner and perhaps the Archduke Felix. King Edgar II, expectant as he is, likely expects a grand showing from you.”

Giovanni leaned forward. “You need this meeting to go well. We have time—time enough not to indulge the fact that you sit alongside a criminal. It would be in our best interest to leave and return at a later date to secure a better arrangement with our republic from Count Faust.”

“Correct on every point except one,” Isabella said. “It wouldn’t be in your best interest to leave now.”

Giovanni gestured patiently. “Explain, please.”

“My brother Edgar is as you described. Decisive and expectant.” She nodded in agreement. “There are two things that he hates above all. Losing, and being embarrassed.”

“How is that relevant?”

“Your republic relies greatly on importing grain from Dovhain,” Isabella continued. “You have several cities the size of our capital. You’re able to sustain such urban areas only because of imported grain.” She leaned onto the table. “And you’ve recently lost access to the only other source of grain that you have.”

The three across from her were trained professionals—she only noticed concern in the expression of one. It was enough to tell her that the knowledge from her past life was correct.

“That’s incorrect,” Giovanni said. “We retain a steady supply of grain from the Rainan-Beltic Commonwealth.”

“The Rainan-Beltic Commonwealth recently suffered a disastrous invasion from three hostile powers,” Isabella pressed forth, undeterred. “They were partitioned between the powers. And all three of these new players are entirely unwilling and unable to trade their grain to you—the conquered farmland has been devastated. That leaves the Kingdom of Dovhain as your sole provider of grain.”

Isabella crossed her hands on the table politely. “We’re the sole bulwark between your bustling cities and widespread famine. My brother is certainly… decisive… enough to exploit that.”

Giovanni met Isabella’s gaze for a time, and then turned back to consult with his advisors. Valerio, who’d been silent thus far, leaned forward.

“Is that real?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes,” Isabella confirmed. “They arrived mere days after the coronation to get ahead of the news and renew agreements before this could be used as leverage.”

“If they arrived ahead of the news…” Valerio looked into her eyes, an unspoken question on his lips.

Isabella stared at him.

“Right. No questions.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, looking at her with intrigue.

After a time, Giovanni looked back toward Isabella. “You’re threatening the lives of our people?”

“I’m not unsympathetic to your problem,” Isabella said. “But my brother dislikes losing, as I said. He has a more… open-minded view toward laws and agreements. I believe that it’s more than fair to ask for a reduction in price of certain goods you export to us, and an increase in price for certain goods we export to you. Given those two concessions, I’m confident your woes won’t trouble you unduly.”

Giovanni crossed his arms. “You’re being unreasonable. It’s natural for grain prices to rise, but reducing the prices of our goods alongside that?”

Isabella looked to the Duke of the Isles, and Valerio leaned in at her signal.

“His Majesty has enlisted me in the task of building an armada for Dovhain,” the duke said. “I happen to have some expertise at maintaining and expanding a vast fleet. I’m sure you’d agree that I’m effective.”

Giovanni’s gaze hardened. “So, your king intends to enter into the business of piracy? Rather than pay a fair price, he would extort us?!”

Isabella looked at him unflinchingly. “On the contrary. I’m trying to be fair now, so that there is no extortion later. Right now, I’m the ambassador. But later?” She leaned back onto the chair. “It’s in your best interest to make an agreement now.”

***

Arthur hovered around the ambassadorial hall, somewhat out of sorts.

Why in the world am I still here? he asked himself.

Princess Isabella had given him leave to depart whenever he pleased. Ordinarily he would’ve suggested doing so first, but for whatever reason, he was lingering around. He had secured a mutually beneficial arrangement with Master Lodovico, and there was nothing that he would lack for further research. But still he lingered, without purpose or direction.

It felt… wrong, he supposed. Surrounding Isabella on all sides were people that were trying to see her be eaten alive. They reveled in every minor mistake that she made, not giving her the opportunity to prove her worth. The kingdom and its success became an irrelevant thing before the eyes of their own ambitions. To quiet his mind, Arthur wandered.

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“What do you suppose she’s doing in there?” asked one of the chatting minor nobles. Someone whose name wasn’t worth remembering.

“Breaking down, I suspect,” one said with a measure of mirth.

“Why in the world did His Majesty give this appointment to her?” another asked bitterly. “It’s infuriating, having serious proceedings hindered by the delusions of a girl who was merely lucky enough to be born with the right name. Why did the king indulge her? She must have his favor.” The man sipped his drink. “Well, that won’t last.”

“Perhaps she learned the trade of love, as her mother did. I’m told her mother was a daughter of a baron who frequented pleasure houses the king attended.” After chuckling, the man continued jokingly, “And certainly not as a customer. The princess must be equally adept in plying that trade to have enticed Duke Albert and the king both.”

Arthur turned his head at the last comment, feeling some rising fire in his head. Almost before he could think things through, he walked toward the giggling gaggle of genteel ‘gentlemen.’

“As I recall,” Arthur said loudly. “Questioning the virtue of the royal family is something that warrants losing your tongue.”

The four gossiping noblemen, and many other besides, turned their undivided attention toward Arthur.

“Would you like to get started on that, or shall I help you?” Arthur continued.

***

“We’re willing to meet all of your demands if you allow Duke Valerio to be extradited and tried in Ambrose,” Giovanni said to Isabella after a while. “The trial would be fair and robust, overseen by your own people if necessary.”

Valerio laughed. “You’ve sent enough assassins without a trial. I think my fate there is rather obvious.”

Isabella didn’t even need to think. King Edgar might have poor judgment, but even he would realize that surrendering a duke to the republic wasn’t on the table. Valerio wasn’t alone in having disputes with the Republic of Ambrose, and a king vowed to protect his vassals from all external threats. If he gave up Valerio, all of the nobility would resent him. It would demonstrate that he didn’t respect the fundamental agreement of the kingdom—the feudal contract to protect his subjects. He’d generate less unrest just executing Valerio himself.

“I’d like the republic to consider pardoning the Duke of the Isles,” Isabella countered.

“Pardon him?” Giovanni leaned forward angrily. “Even if I had the authority, why would I? This beast plagued our trade routes for years, earning enough gold to pay a king’s ransom.”

“More than that, actually,” Valerio said, and Isabella looked at him sternly. Rebuked, he raised his hands and said, “But those days are long behind me, ambassador. I’m the Lord Admiral of Dovhain, not the pirate lord of the isles.”

“Changing your title doesn’t change what you are, what you’ve done.” Giovanni shook his head firmly. “It won’t happen.”

Valerio stood up. “I wonder if we shouldn’t clear the air.”

“Clear the air? You must be leaving,” Giovanni retorted hostilely.

“To begin with, the only reason that I raided your ships was because your Serene Doge refused to pay me my due for the trading routes that I pioneered,” Valerio said, walking toward the ambassadors. “Risked my life venturing to parts unknown at the promise of glory and gold. When I got back to Ambrose, what did I get? A pittance of pension, and a lot of paperwork.”

Valerio drew his knife, then begun spinning it through his hands in an artful display of mastery. Isabella stood up, but said nothing. It was half of curiosity, and half trust. Valerio had lived to her reign, even with such a hostile relation with Ambrose. He must’ve gotten out of this before… but how? It must’ve been his own efforts.

“What did Ambrose get off the back of my labor? Pepper, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg—things that sell for ten times their weight in gold in places like Dovhain.” He stopped spinning his knife to point it at his chest. “You gave me nothing for what I did. Instead, the Serene Doge monopolized the trade, gave the sole right to all of your cronies. He forbade people like me, who’d discovered the damn route, from trading on it. Forgive me, then, if some of us decided we needed to rob to keep our riches.”

Giovanni stood up from his chair. “That was a battle for the courts.”

“No, that was just a battle you’d have won,” Valerio said, tossing his knife up and catching it to point it at Giovanni’s face. “But I took my wealth back just as I’d earned it—at sea. Everyone knew what the government did was corrupt. Your son’s ship? He didn’t get captured, Giovanni. Vittorio came to me, shipment of spices in tow, and asked to join up.”

“That’s revisionist horse dung!” Giovanni shouted. “My son was a loyal patriot of the republic.”

“And the republic got sold,” Valerio said calmly. He gave one final flourish of the knife, then held its handle out to Giovanni. “It was a den of corruption, rotten to the core. Your son fought for its values with me because he wasn’t finding them at home. He was freer at sea than he was at home. All of my men were.”

Giovanni stared up at Valerio with none of his rage abating. It wasn’t abating… but nor was it rising further. Now that there was a lull in their exchange, Isabella finally found space to interject.

“Regardless of any personal history you might share, the fact is this,” she outlined clearly. “Duke Valerio is a subject of the crown. Even if he were permitted to raise his own navy, he would never again be allowed to launch indiscriminate raids on our closest ally.”

Giovanni looked at Isabella, then at Valerio.

Valerio set the dagger down on the table. “From what I hear, the republic is back on its feet,” he said. “The new Serene Doge is fiercely anti-corruption. He’s lifted the monopoly grants, and instituted laws against nepotism. Even if I wanted to go back to piracy, there’s not a chance that I’d be able to find the same following again. And… despite everything… I still admire the Republic of Ambrose, ambassador.”

Silence settled between the two’s intense exchange.

“Bring my request for a pardon before the Serene Doge,” Isabella suggested.

Giovanni shook his head. “Doge Rocco won’t swallow a unilateral pardon.”

Valerio crossed his arms. “Then let him know I’m willing to pay restitution. So long as he understands that I’m no pirate lord any longer, and have decidedly less wealth to employ… I’ll pay. I’ll pay gladly.”

“As for the trade agreement?” Isabella asked.

Giovanni looked back to his aides, then stepped away from the table. “We’ll discuss.”

Isabella nodded with as much composure as she could muster, but inwardly she was nervous. If she overplayed her hand helping Duke Valerio…

“I’ll ask you this,” Giovanni said. “Can you ensure King Edgar II won’t attempt a renegotiation in the event any news of our troubles reach the kingdom?”

Isabella nodded. “I can.”

Because he’s going to have much larger concerns, soon, she thought inwardly.

Giovanni looked to his aides, then discussed with them briefly. Valerio retrieved his dagger and walked back to join her, watching them.

“We’ll draft revised terms to present,” Giovanni said. “I hope that the princess is as good as her word.”

Isabella, surprised that they had so immediately promised to revise terms, could only give a faint nod. After she did, Giovanni and the others walked away, exiting the room. When they finally shut the door, Isabella leaned up against the table, letting her head fall limp. On her face, though, was a triumphant smile.