Bermudez Conference: February 1915

[snip]

Bastian follows the smell of tobacco smoke through the garden below the veranda. Over the strenuous objection of the junior diplomat, he did not notice in the foyer of the Vandevliert estate, who was intent on not letting the man at least forty years his senior wander around some foreign island alone, Bastian had managed to make the journey by himself. The silence of the journey had cost him a fine bottle of wine, but the Francian vineyard was not his favorite anyway. Another pair of bottles, one from an Italian and one from an Albian vineyard, were cradled in a fabric bag. Slowly, but almost silently, he took the steps leading up to the veranda.

On reaching the veranda proper, Bastian saw that Abidi was indeed there. As expected, there was one guard. Bastian was slightly surprised by the inclusion of Major Hadrian, Imperial Roman Marines. Once it had been known that Hadrian was not only alive but present, his information along with a communication from his family had appeared on Bastisan's desk as if by magic. The elderly diplomat liked the Major on paper; near the top of his class, interests in language, and based on what reports where available from those under him, a level head and sharp tactical mind. Bastian's Aztec was best described as halting, so the Major's presence as an impromptu translator would be most welcome.

"Commodore Abidi." Bastian greets his host as he approached. "Thank you for the invitation. I take it you did not have as much trouble slipping well-meaning, but obtuse junior staff as I did."

Abidi cracks an almost imperceptible smile. "A benefit of my position, orders are orders."

Bastian nodded to the Seal Warrior, who did not meet his eyes before speaking to Major Hadrian. "Major Hadrian, it pleases me to find you well." Bastian produces an envelope. "I have something for you, a note from your wife and children. I am afraid I caught a few lines of the message while folding it, please forgive the intrusion."

Hadrian took the envelope. "Thank you, Mister Mancini." He then settled back into his seat, idly fingering the envelope which would need to wait until later to read.

"I also brought something for you Commodore, tho please forgive me if the items are not to your persuasion. I understand some in your country do not consume alcohol but that is all I was able to locate." Bastian produces one of the wine bottles from the bag.

Abidi gestures to the glasses on the table, along with the open decanter of clear liquid. "Let me assure you then that this is not water. Have you had tequila before?" Abidi gestures to the seat across the table.

Bastian takes the offered seat before responding. "I cannot say I've had the pleasure." He lifted the small glass and gently sniffed it. He fights to keep his facial expression more neutral than the strong smell would allow. "And while I will indulge a little, the last time I had something as strong as this smells was perhaps my wedding night." He takes a small sip and almost immediately needs to fight off a cough.

"Now, I've done this job enough to guess this is not a purely social call. Is there something you would like to discuss?"

[TacCovert4]

The warmaster smiles, the stem of his pipe twitching.  "Indeed.  We are men of action, and endless discussions and posturings by delegations of diplomats is what started this war in the first place.  Let us speak frankly, and we might make and end of this war."  Commodore Abidi looks over to his right as Major Hadrian takes a long pull on his cigar, "Color Sergeant, you look like you could use a walk."  "Aye Sir" is the reply and the grizzled enlisted man disappears into the garden.  "As I said, rank has its benefits", Abidi chuckles to Bastien.  "Sit, have a cigar" he says, motioning to the open box of fine Azteca cigars, cutter, and matches laying on the table.  "I have asked the good Major to bear witness if we agree to anything of import, I trust him to his word and I believe that his status as an officer in the Imperial Republic should suffice for your needs, otherwise he understands the importance of discretion, and after all, he has quite a number of his own officers and men at stake in this talk".

Letting Bastien take his seat, Abidi takes a sip from his tequila before picking up his pipe again, puffing from it thoughtfully.  "I think that we can put the status of the Caicos to rest, there is no real way that a land so steeped in blood in its defense could be given up under the present circumstances, even to a third party.  But let us talk about how we might preclude a resumption of hostilities by establishing a division of North Erica..."

Bastien pulls a rolled up map out from under his arm, laying it out on the table.  "Indeed.  From the reaction of your foreign minister, I might presume that you have some objection to the dividing lines that my delegation came up with?"  Puffing on his pipe, the Commodore leans forward, before pointing with the stem at a portion of the great plains.  "This area here is of primary concern.  Based upon simple terrain surveys, without the benefit of geologists and such, this division pins the Sultanate into the mountains where the terrain is poor for farming and not suitable to many other economic pursuits.  While at the same time giving Rome both the great river valley and the great plains.  Ignoring any possibility for other economic exploitation, this places the Sultanate into an impossible position for expansion and would certainly lead to rapidly escalating tensions."

[snip]

Bastian puffs on the cigar contemplatively for a moment before offering a reply. "So, you would propose something more akin to this?" He takes a ball of twine out of the bag along with some small shears and a bobbin of pins. "To preserve the original markings as we discuss, I will use this to outline proposed boarders unless there is an objection?"

When no objection comes from Abidi, Bastian lays a length of the twine along the indicated boundary, held in place by some well-placed pins. "Would this be your proposed boarder?"



"Close enough to discuss." Abidi makes one small adjustment before nodding his approval.

Bastian studied the lines for a moment. "As you say, without the benefit of more extensive survey, it is not possible to know how favorable, or unfavorable, the land in question may be to settlement.  What I find difficult with the revised line is how complex it makes the boarder. Given the goal of this demarcation is ultimately to avoid tensions, such a complex boarder seems counterproductive. Ether side, though no intended malice, may have difficulties determining the actual boarder given the lack of natural features along various sections of this proposal. It relies on accurate survey of the existing boarder, which while I do not doubt the cartographical department of the Colonial Ministry, I hope you would agree is a necessary item of guesswork at times."

Abidi's expressions did not betray his true feelings, but he nodded in understanding. "The concern makes sense. If an enforceable boundary is to be created, it should be justly enforceable."

"Then if I may exposit for a moment?" Bastian waits for an approving nod from Abidi before beginning his speech.

"If we look at the current settled boarders of what was claimed prior to the start of the conflict, you can see we have a nice strait line here." He points out the area on the map. "Whether by intent or accident, that line continues north of the Roman territory along what the Sultanate has claimed until the claim stops here." He points at the upper northeastern corner of the Aztec territory. "What if, we were to extend a line out from the current northern bound of the Sultanate's territory heading east." Bastian places a pin with one end of another strand of twine at the indicated point and moves the twine to follow the line on the map already drawn in the Roman proposal. "That way, we have a clear boarder that can be easily described. Then, we take the southeastern corner of your proposal here..." Bastian places a small pin in the map as the indicated point. "and then extend directly north until it hits the river here." He places a pin where the indicated line intersects the river and wraps the twine taught around it.



"That, if my recollection of the territory in question is correct, would perhaps ease the noted objections to a large amount of the territory in question being claimed by Roman interests so as to block Sultanate access to the less mountainous areas noted."

Bastian leans back and allows Abidi to examine the map before replying.

[TacCovert4]

Commodore Abidi puffs his pipe thoughtfully before speaking.  "Aye, that would be acceptable.  Minister Asad will probably howl at being cut out of the negotiations, but it's not his responsibility, it is mine.  The real question is, can you sell that to your government, or will it only foment more territorial claims in the future?"

Abidi pours himself and Bastien another drink of Tequila, sipping his thoughtfully as he watches Bastien think about how he would get Rome to sign off on the peace they had orchestrated.

[snip]

"I do believe I can make a good case to such." Bastian feints not noticing the refilled glass of the clear alcohol, the first already having done plenty. "I think it sets a meaningful precedent that we can talk and ensures there is room for pressure release on both sides when it comes to further expansion."

Bastian pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts. "I do envy your position when it comes to selling this agreement. While I truly only need the acceptance of two others, with perhaps a third, it will be perhaps a bit of a less glamorous take on the end of my career. Yet another benefit of returning to formal retirement after concluding our business."

"Since we seem to be in agreement, I will take the liberty of giving my staff cartographer the task of drawing up what has been agreed to here." Bastian jotts a few quick notes on the pushpined map as he continues. "Then we can work though the formalities of such throughout the week as necessary."

Bastian turns to Major Hadrian. "Thank you for witnessing this Major, I hope that any official accounts you may be asked to provide are kind, but fair."

Hadrian is still widely turning the envelope over in his hands, but nods in acknowledgement of the comment.

Bastian returns his focus to Abidi as he finishes returning unused supplies to his bag. "With that Commodore, I'm afraid my constitution begs me to return to my borrowed bed. Thank you for providing this opportunity for a productive discussion. Good evening."

Abidi replies "Alaykumu Salaam."

With that, Bastian picks up the map and begins walking back the way he originally came.

[TacCovert4]

24 February, 1915

Commodore Abidi sighs as the final signatures are placed upon the document from the Roman delegation.  For the Sultanate, only a single signature need be made before taking it to the Sultan for ratification.  By signing the Bermudez Treaty, the Warmaster had put up his sword, and would now have to answer to his sovereign for the conduct and conclusion of the war.  Minister Asad had practically screamed when he was informed that the Warmaster and the Roman Bastien had conducted their own negotiations by night and in secret, away from the more numerous delegations and the pomp of a proper diplomatic summit.  But ultimately his power was limited to protesting, and his protests had been taken under advisement, and overruled as needed to reach a settlement. 

After the final ceremony had been concluded, Abidi walked down towards the pier to board his cruiser, and to go discover his fate.  But lo, there were two of the small and sleek Aztec ships in harbor.  And at the head of a platoon of Eagle Warriors was a tall bearded man.  The commodore stopped in his tracks and knelt stiffly.  "My Sultan, I surrender myself for judgement in my conduct of the war."  He knew that if Sultan Ali the 8th did not find the resolution to the conflict adequate, only his death would satisfy honor, a sentence that would be carried out immediately, even on this foreign soil.

Sultan Ali smiles.  "Well done, my good and faithful servant.  You have faithfully discharged your duty to protect the Sultanate."  Despite the formality, Abidi's held breath comes out in a sigh of relief.  "Now rise, I have further use of you.  The Caicos need a governor to rebuild.  Can the one who held them against impossible odds rebuild our Outer Gateway to defend our lands for generations to come?"

"I will, my Sultan" Commodore Abidi struggles slightly to his feet.  "Then they are yours, and the house of Ali grants you the governorship in perpetuity and what you may require for its defense."

The somewhat awestruck Commodore, no Governor, stands as he is presented with the papers of his new office, nearly a dynasty of his own in governorship of the islands.  A ceremony that may not have been overly formal, but was certainly done publicly before the European powers to emphasize the dedication of the Sultan to holding the Caicos, forever.