A Battle Unseen

[Doc]

Office of the Chancellor of the Empire
Kaliburg, 4:15pm, Local

There was a knock at the door. Chancellor of the Empire, Lady Ericka Donahue, who had a public reputation as a very serious, and often incendiary conservative, sat at her desk which was piled high with petitions from constituents looking for some dispensation here or some favor there. She was never going to catch up on her correspondance at this rate, but she took some comfort in the fact that, no matter how many letters she answered today, there would be new ones to replace them tomorrow. A certain sense of fatalism was necessary for this job and Lady Donahue more than possessed it. But here was a distraction, and not an entirely welcomed one.

"It opens" she called toward the door of her office.

In strode the bespectacled, be-tuxedoed Foreign Minister, Sir Thomas Harney. He had a slight smile on his face: He and the Chancellor definitely had different personalities. She was businesslike and serious, at least in public, while he seemed like a goofy puppy, wanting to be everyone's friend. He was a schmoozer, a glad hander. He was a great pick for Foreign Minister, because he encapsulated the Princess Regent's spoken policy of trying to continue to reach out, build bridges, make friends, and attract governments to Kalistan to talk and possibly make agreements with the world. Harney was not a hard nationalist. But he was also, quite possibly the most intelligent man the Chancellor had ever met, and unfortunately, being the smartest guy in any room made him a little eccentric.

"Take a seat Sir Harney. I'll be done in just a second."

"Cool" he said, and sat down in the chair in front of her desk. After tapping his finger lightly on the chair, he noticed a pencil on the Chancellor's desk. Staring at her he slowly moved his hand toward the pencil and swiped it without her noticing. He held the pencil for a moment, was reminded of a song, and mindlessly started tapping out the beat on the arm of the chair he was sitting in.

Slowly the Chancellor noticed the rhythm he was playing. "Is that... no... wait... is it?" her inner voice asked her... In a moment, she realized that she was focused on what he was playing, and not on her work. She had misspelled her own name on this document, and now had to write it again. "Excuse me, Sir Harney, what song is that?"

He looked up, happy she noticed. "I Don't Mind, by the Kites," he said enthusiastically. "I just discovered this band, they were awesome. They were supposed to go to FOMAT back in like 5576, and they were withdrawn and their music just... rocks, you know..."

Realizing it wasn't the song she was thinking about, at all, and if she didn't stop him, he was going to tell her the whole history of the alternative rock genre in Kalistan, and then how it relates somehow to the space program, or something, the Chancellor could feel her eyes slowly rolling back in her sockets as he was talking and she started massaging her temples--She could feel the first pangs of a headache. "Look, Tom. I don't care, alright? I don't care about some stupid band from last century. Alright? Nobody cares about any of that stuff."

The Foreign Minister was taken aback. "But... you just asked..."

The Chancellor snapped. "Mr. Harney, please. Do you think I really called you in here to waste my time telling me about music? Really?"

He looked like he was thinking about the question. "Well, I mean..."

"Thomas," she cut him off brusquely. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, said her inner mantra, and spoke slowly. "I don't really care. I just wanted you to stop that tapping. I called you here because I needed to get an update to pass on to the Princess Regent about your progress on sending those invitations." She was five minutes into his visit and she was already exasperated by his antics.

The Foreign Minister, slightly shocked by the abrupt change of topics, responded, "Well, its done. I got them all out, and we got positives from almost all of them. I think the Princess Regent might be onto something. For someone who supposedly doesn't know what she's doing, she's pretty good at what she's doing, I think."

"She's lucky," said the Chancellor. "And she has good sense, but more importantly, she has a good teacher in her mother. The Empress does too. I merely have to do what she tells me: Its my single solitary purpose in this life, and is my duty to my Empire and my Empress."

"Great. I'm glad you are willing to work with her too. I know you all don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I know you helped her so much at the beginning, and I think that was very kind of you. Nobody will ever know about how kind you were to her and to Her Imperial Majesty, and how patient you are." He paused, smiled and leaned in, as if he were sharing a secret, "See... I know you like to act like you're this hard ass, but I also know you have a soft side, a gentle side. I see how you speak with the Empress in Waiting... You ain't fooling nobody..."

"Mr. Harney, that will be quite enough. You grow too familiar. Focus on your work and stop bothering with affairs that are none of your concern. I serve Her Imperial Majesty, but you do too. You best focus on your duty, and report as soon as you hear additional word from the foreigners."

"Yes Madam," he said with a wink and a smile. "As you require. Is that all?"

"Yes..." she said eager to get rid of this buffoon and get back to work before heading home for the evening. But then he was about to stand up and she remembered he was wearing that god damned tuxedo again. "No, actually, its not all." Half risen, he paused and sat back down.

"Alright then, what is it?" he asked with a smile, almost certain he knew what she was about to ask.

"Sir Thomas, why are you wearing that tuxedo again. I thought I ordered you to take that off and dress appropriately."

"Well, Madame, you are correct in that you did ask me to stop wearing that tuxedo. This is clearly not that tuxedo. I think I told that reporter that I actually own 12 or 13 tuxedos, but I found it was more like 15 tuxedos."

The Chancellor was near her limit with this guy. "How about you stop wearing any tuxedos unless it is appropriate to do so? I find your insubordination on this matter very disrespectful."

The Foreign Minister thought for a moment, "Madame, I have no desire to disrespect you with my choice of attire."

"Then why do you insist upon doing it? I have told you multiple times to take it off, and you have chosen to continue reporting for work at the Foreign Ministry in a tuxedo."

"That is true Madame. But I certainly do not wear the tuxedos to disrespect you. I mean: If I wanted to disrespect you, I would show up in the yellow Paisley one I keep for Halloween," said the Foreign Minister, with a chuckle.

His voice was like nails. "Mr. Harney, you are seriously this close to an insubordination charge..."

The Foreign Minister paused, and said "Madame, is it illegal to wear a tuxedo?"

The Chancellor looked at him. "What?" she asked as if she hadn't registered the question.

"I said, Madame, is it illegal to wear a tuxedo?"

"No, Mr. Harney, it is not illegal." She wanted to say it was unprofessional, but that's not even true: He was dressing far better than anyone in his entire department. His clothes were always clean and pressed: She'd seen his laundry bills and sure enough, they had always run into the thousands. Its what he spends his money on. She couldn't complain that he was distracting: At least he wasn't like the kids in the mailroom who wear pajamas and slides to work.

"No, Mr. Harney. Its not illegal. It's... intimidating... You put people off."

"Madame, I put you off. Everyone I work with has grown accustomed to it. I get compliments about my tuxedos every day: people notice the differences between different ones I own. I think they like working for a well dressed professional. It shows I am serious and take my job seriously, and eventually, people just get over it."

The Chancellor was no longer interested in debating the Foreign Minister. He was right: it puts her off. "Whatever, Mr. Harney. I can see I am not going to change your weirdness."

"No Madame, you aren't."

"Just tell me one thing then. Why do you wear them? Why did you just start wearing them like three months ago? Did you have an accident or something?"

The Foreign Minister thought, "Well, I think I have always been interested in dressing well. My suits are all tailored and imported Gaduri suits. But I think I sort of looked just like everyone else when I wore them-I was wearing the same thing I wore when I was a nameless faceless bureaucrat at the Keris Desk. I wanted something that spoke to a little more how I see myself. I'm not just some bureaucrat anymore. I am Her Imperial Majesty's Minister of Foreign Affairs. I am the voice of Her Imperial Majesty and Her Highness, the Princess Regent abroad. When they hear me and see me, they see her. I want her to look as good and sound as serious to foreigners as I possibly can. So I dress in the nicest, most formal things I can find."

The explanation made some sense, and yet it was also just absolutely ridiculous. "And you don't think you can do that in a regular suit?"

"No Madame. I always believed that the nicest dressed person in the room has the most power. I won't compete with the Empress' title. I work for her as you have said. But among equals, I am always gonna dress better than my peers. That's just what it is."

The Chancellor really needed to return to her work and had indulged this incredibly effective lunatic long enough. "Do me a favor, Sir Thomas."

"What is it Madame?" he asked.

"If you're going to wear that tuxedo around here or around the Ministry, I can't stop you. But please don't wear it when you attend formal audiences. You in a tuxedo embarrasses me in front of the Princess Regent, and especially the Empress. Just do me that one favor..."

The Foreign Minister stood, and smiled. "Madame, who do you think suggested it to me?" He clicked his heels together in mock salute, bowed deeply and spun on the balls of his feet, and marched off toward the door.

"Hippies," she thought as he closed the door. "I am surrounded by dope smoking hippies."