Snippet #2816219

"Minister Minamino, your highness," Shiya Calusdian said with a nod to Shuichi and his imperial counterpart, entering the appropriate information in the desk console. "Lieutenant Wouters will take you upstairs. If you need anything else during your visit, please let one of us know."

"Sirs." Karal Wouters inclined his head, motioning for the two to follow him, but chose not to make comment otherwise. Whether a visiting Hordakk dignitary or a Vyysuulian warlord, he'd learned early in this tour of duty to keep his mouth shut lest he find himself on the rather unpleasant receiving end of a diplomatic crisis. The threat of a few months - or years, even, for more egregious offenses - in the stockade was sufficient to keep most of the personnel at Government Center well behaved when surrounded by rather unpredictable and often volatile guests. Even without a terrorist attack since the last one a year prior, the place was swirling with the threat of some new battle at every turn. Karal, for his part, would have been more than happy to ship off to the outer fringes of the Local Region. At least he could understand ship politics. Civilian politics were another world unto themselves.

Government Center had been refurbished and renovated again over the past decade, to quiet dignity and beauty, meant to showcase Terran unity and pride while putting forward the image of humility. The floors were marble, but only parts of the ceiling inlay in the grand hall were gilded, and even then, the gold was shadowed intentionally by the soaring arches, meant to suggest communion between the built structure and the natural environment. The design of the new iteration of Terra's heart was meant to evoke simplicity and elegance, rather than ornate decadence.

The Ministry of Foreign Affairs, like most government ministries, departments, and agencies, kept most of its staff in another building off-site, but the Minister still maintained a formal office suite here. The current incumbent was more often down the block than in Government Center, but when occasion called, would have to receive visiting dignitaries of sufficiently high rank in Government Center. Anything less, of course, would be an insult.

Today, Minister Dvořák was waiting with Þorgerður Guðrúnar Vilhjálmsdóttir, Khayyam's choice for Minister of Justice sometime early in the past year after she'd ousted her own earlier pick, Azieb, months before the indictments against Cranford's cronies had gone public. Karal had heard a few disgruntled interns discussing where Azieb had ended up - some nonprofit in the middle of Wing City, according to one, a lobbying firm according to another. Either way, an ignominious way for a Minister of Justice to end her career - unless of course, she was a true believer, in which case, she'd likely have seen the Ministerial posting as the lowest point of an otherwise upstanding do-gooder career.

Dvořák was an enormous, broad-shouldered man who towered over everyone else the moment he ambled to his feet, a massive beard sprouting from his chin, his glasses perched atop a slender nose that ended with bulbous nostrils. He had reluctantly worn a tie, but insisted on leaving the top button of his shirt undone. Next to him, Þorgerður was a plain-faced, plump woman with light brown skin and frizzy curls pulled tightly into a bun atop her head, dressed in an olive green pantsuit that complimented her bright green eyes. Both stood and bowed when the two Taiyou arrived to the well-lit drawing room, finely appointed with Elizabethan era, hand-carved wooden furniture. Eyes narrowing slightly in recognition, Dvořák waved away the pair of aides that had been waiting with the two ministers.

He'd thought Nobuo Takayama was dead.