Nil was actually glad when Huo Ren showed up, for at least when he spoke it would attract most reporters to himself rather than the ASEAN delegation.
In truth they had to endure worse when they arrived by plane and now before entering the building for the meeting, Nil was clearly not made out to be a media personality, and by the time Task Force Obsidian was inside she was already slumping with a tired look on her face. The only voice she made an effort to understand was Noel quickly briefing everyone once again, the same things which Nil had to be told multiple times to ensure she did not cause any trouble.
The idea was simple: show up, stay in the back while people talk diplomacy, get out.
In the end Nil wouldn’t be a problem, since she harbored no hard feelings for their opponents in the Zodiac, of course the same can’t be said for the rest of the team.
Rather she was taking a better look at Huo Ren, the Chinese Dragon with so many stories being told about him, and despite the previous missions where Task Force Obsidian faced the Dragon, Nil never had the chance to observe him with more than a glance. But now he was just a pretty face in pretty clothing, for a few seconds Nil stared at him with hollow eyes, wondering if there was more she was overlooked about him, while completely missing the interaction between Makri and Suburov.
The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 06:10 UTC+8 Cristina
Cristina spent her time studying the forbidden knowledge Qingshe provided her. Reading books had been a new experience for her but with a lot of persistence and help from Qingshe, she managed to create a simple spell. A proof of concept before this sudden peace conference.
She would've preferred if they left her alone while she can handle herself at places like this fine, she would prefer to not be in a den of snakes. No offense to Qingshe but the wordplay and euphemisms people use here was just too infuriating for her. Just be direct to the point.
The event passed without much fanfare until predictably the Chinese invited themselves.
Did the Dragon actually forgot about her? Not that she was complaining but that was pretty arrogant of him. And that guy Shen Tu, he looked like he didn't want to be here. She felt a little bit of kinship.
She would've been fine with this until the man's friend introduced himself.
"You." He is Superbia's Avatar?
So the man who turned her sister into that was in front of her?
Sinagtala suddenly appeared on her left hand. He wasn't that far her new move will reach her.
After all, how could she afford to waste this opportunity.
Koichi was a new recruit in Taskforce Obsidian so he didn't know much about how the others felt toward their supposed worst enemy but he knew that attacking here would ruin the Taskforce reputation. So he quickly put his hand on her arm "What the hell are you doing." He wasn't good at this talking people down stuff so he was just going to be blunt.
"We have a job." Koichi told her "Don't let your emotions get in the way" Koichi paused before adding something else "I don't know what that guy did to you but if you attack him" Koichi looked her straight in the eyes "People are going to get hurt, here and in the war."
Koichi let go of her hand hopefully that would be enough to talk her down from whatever stupid decision she was planning. He hoped the rest of the taskforce wasn't like this and actually used their heads when making decisions.
Callie’s brow creased just a touch, eyes passing between the two remaining hostile Arms Masters as she slid towards Nil’s other shoulder. At her side, her hand barely twitched over her leather micro-bag and the pistol crammed within.
Once again, a subset of thoughts flickered to the fact that, tactically speaking, she should be outside on the same roof that she’d stashed her (new) rifle, watching proceedings through a window with Charter. She was critical to any evacuation; putting her in the diplomatic party, and thereby at ground zero of any attack, represented a similarly critical risk. But, of course, Spindle wanted her in the room to listen in on proceedings – and in the side rooms during the breaks, to subtly press the US’ agenda if the opportunity to chat with any of the diplomats arose.
Another part of her echoed the other element of Spindel’s briefing – a piece of knowledge that gnawed at her mind and urged her towards that same position of relative security and circumspection, one that she had mentioned to nobody else not least because she had no good excuse for knowing it…
Thus, here she was: fatigues exchanged for an off-white sleeveless dress (chosen to blend into the building’s internal and external surfaces) that hugged her svelte torso before flowing outward into a mid-length skirt, heavily pleated to maximise mobility, and her hair held up in elaborate yet compact waves rather than by its usual utilitarian tie.
The rest of her mind pushed those thoughts away (barring one stream hoping that the gauzy capelet over her shoulder was doing its job and had disguised her muscles tensing from the hand twitch) as Callie studied the Zodiac’s exemplar and his aide. Casual arrogance from someone who’s known power without inhibition for near his whole life – his hanger-on’s body language and expression, though… Couldn’t be less confident if they tried. Rule through fear isn’t rare but it doesn’t inspire loyalty or security. The prospect was intriguing – a clear objective, if a conditional and secondary one. If things were to go awry here and Callie was able to – well, ‘capture’ or ‘free’, the distinction would only become clear later – this person, they might have useful information for the fighting that would come after.
Low, steely voices behind her; Callie’s attention multiplied. One of them she absolutely recognised, branded in her mind from just a few days ago. The other… One ‘Koichi’, she thought – a rookie but one apparently committed enough to the Force to intervene on behalf of its objectives. For now, against her instinct to act, she would let him; Cristina was more likely to respond constructively to critique from one of her peers than to a ‘veteran’ throwing her seniority around. If she didn’t… Well, at that point she would jump in.
Not that she could entirely blame Cristina for being distracted by a familial connection. Spindel’s knowledge still burned at her, threatening to spread to the parts of her brain that she had partitioned it away from and consume it with possibilities.
Kenrick – her father, who she remembered only through the fog of two decades of forgetting – was here. And for all her mental powers, despite the hundreds upon hundreds of scenarios and approaches she had touched on in her imagination of the moment, Callie had no idea what she might do if she were to encounter him – or, worse, if he were to encounter her.
Berto, of course, had no clue who these men were-- but it only took one glance at his young comrades for him to understand the nature of the situation."Cristina, is it? The Chinese sent that man here for one reason. Well, two reasons; one, to rattle our people at the negotiating table, and two, to provoke us into firing the first shot. Our primary objective hasn't changed. We still have to make sure nobody fires the first shot."
He tried to catch Cristina, and Callie, and Koichi's attention."But now we've got a secondary objective. We've gotta find something soft on their side, as close to this 'Avatar' is possible, and we've gotta stick something in it and break it off. The bean counters and the pretty little liars are gonna thank us for it, because if the Chinese are slapping us in the face out here-- fishing for an incident-- then you can bet they're trying to screw us a lot worse in there."
"So what do we know about this asshat that the PRC wishes we didn't?"
The day had started relatively lightly for Henri. Some breakfast and preparations for the briefing ahead. He listened carefully, as Alonso gave his speech. He wondered, if he'd ever get used to the idea of a junior having command over him.
This must be what the sailors felt seeing snotties Thought Henri to himself thinking back to the young midshipmen of the Maritime Era. Granted, Alonso was a man grown, not a 12 year old boy. Still, it really showed how times had changed more dire, that people as young as him gained officer positions.
And speaking of dire things, in the midst of Noel's rant the Zodiac appeared. Henri tried to stay put and unnoticed. He had, after all, played a critical role at the dam, even if it wasn't due to Leonidas. For an Arms-Master to be brought down by a regular gun was probably not something one or their comrades wanted to be remembered by.
Then there was this new face. Henri tried to remember the name Yulian Suburov, but couldn't recall anything. Either he hadn't been to the Ukraine, or had remained classified until now. Huo Ren's comments suggested either scenario. Still, with the name Chainbringer Henri could get a pretty good picture of what the Russian's Noble Arm looked like.
The Zodiac were certainly not wasting any time making threats. The convention had barely started and already they're declaring war. Henri stayed quiet, nonetheless, keeping an eye on the situation. While he had some chosen words in mind, they could wait for later, if there was a need to mention them at all.
Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 06:15 UTC+8
Noel glared back at Huo Ren and said as he raised his left eyebrow, "If you want to screw over your own people and the Russians by revealing that their observer is an energy body used by Public Enemy Number One, be my guest. Stop trying to pick a fight before you end up in one; we won't be the ones drawing our weapons first."
He glanced back at Koichi Hirose, the newly-arrived recruit, as he restrained Cristina from attacking 'Yulian'. Then a nod of acknowledgment at the volunteer before Noel turned back to Huo Ren and said, "The diplomatic meeting your superiors spent a lot of time and effort to call is about to start. The Cambodian military is sending a detachment to keep us all safe, but they will probably want to know about the Russian observer's boasts; you might want to go after him to ensure he does not make more."
Huo Ren was already gazing past him to look at a fuming Nico (Aoi was fuming too, but he thought she was beneath his notice), before smiling, grinning from ear to ear, then saying, "Don't worry; I got what I wanted."
Patting the shoulder of his aide, Shen Tu, Huo gestured both of them to walk towards where Yulian was fast disappearing into a crowd of Russian aides and other diplomatic staff. As they did so, Shen Tu risked looking back at Noel and mouthing, 'Help me'.
Noel gave another nod of acknowledgment, before saying to Henri, "Volunteer Janssens, keep close to us and ready your Noble Arm for use at any time. An Avatar of Superbia is pure energy so your Arm can probably instantly dispel it. Now, we will wait for the Cambodian security detail to meet to coordinate with them and prevent any more untoward incidents from happening."
The apparent leader of the protective detachment sent by the military, a squat female with “C. Chea” stamped on her uniform, dismounted her vehicle. Her piercing brown eyes scanned the outside. The streets were fairly barren for such a large event; everyone was inside. Her aides-de-camp approached her and saluted. She reminded them of their orders: “Check the personal protection of each delegation, and inform me of their status. I’ve heard there’s Arms Masters; I want to meet them specifically.” She folded her arms as her underlings trotted away, scanning the outside a second time.
She received a sudden call; there had been a near-incident involving the Filipino and Chinese security details. She walked into the building, armed with only an Anti-Materiel Rifle capable of piercing through an Arms Master's regenerating flesh, a heavy pistol of similar capabilities, and a brace of knives. Accompanying her were a squad of what appeared to be perfectly mundane troops and one Arms Master, her younger brother, Dara, who, though new to his Noble Arm, had a power that was optimized against other Noble Arm users, a power grown from disillusionment with Noble Arms as a concept, ironically.
Walking towards Noel and the others, C. Chea spoke to Task Force Obsidian in a stern tone, "I see you have not given in to the Chinese and Russian provocations. You must be less naive than I thought. Now, where are my manners? I am Colonel C. Chea, and I will be in charge of your security. Do not get in trouble; the meeting is about to begin..."
Mission Four Introduction Auxiliary Post - Co-written by me and @QJT
Diamond Island Convention and Exhibition Center, The City of Phnom Penh - 11/11/2022 06:20 UTC+8
The sun had barely escaped the horizon, and already the atmosphere felt warm for November. The monsoon season had recently ended, and the lingering moisture in the air made for a groggy experience. Small regions of dampness littered the tan sidewalk pavement. Still, it was dry enough not to ruin the Thai lead delegate’s 200 USD shoes as he departed his limousine. He took a deep breath and regretted it instantly. A whiff of air so close to a silty river couldn’t be good for his health. He unsheathed a handkerchief and coughed into it as his aides joined him in the flat, barely traversed environment. He wriggled his nose and checked his surroundings.
The Americans were there already. Hardly surprising. They came well prepared, given the massive suitcases they hauled. He wondered exactly what those entailed: espionage equipment, personal computers, priceless document proposals, lunch. Perhaps a little of each. Presently, they yucked it up with the… French? Some manner of Europeans, judging by their accent. He sadly couldn’t learn or distinguish between all of the world’s seven thousand languages. He checked his watch. He’d arrived on time; a half-hour early, in fact. The observers were simply too eager to wait.
He counted his entourage, and the suitcases carried therein. Five (including himself) and six; excellent. He bade his cabbie onward, and the vehicle left to park. One of his subordinates, a rather young lady, waved towards the American delegation. He snapped his fingers at her, and she returned her attention to the group. In the distance, a puerile counterpart would return the gesture, to be corralled by his superior. Both leaders understood well: The delegation acted as one unit on behalf of the nation. Frivolities, however friendly, could distract from their duty. “You have our room number, correct?”
“Yessir, here…” she opened her briefcase, nearly spilling the entire contents by the curb. She rescued a small slip of paper with loose scribblings and held it aloft. “...sir.”
“Excellent. Move our belongings and set up our office; I’ll meet you in the auditorium.” “Sir.” The four underlings on his team jogged off to complete their sacred duty. The Thai delegate blew his nose and stowed away the rag. Their duty was to smooth the process. His duty was to witness the light gray asphalt sea as his allies and adversaries flocked in. They were the first ASEAN nation to show up.
First Relevant Portion (Edited in):
The Philippine Delegation, led by one Emilia Naga, a newcomer to the diplomatic scene whose tall, thin figure looked more like a supermodel than an ambassador, and who opened her ambassadorial car wearing a flashy pink sleeveless dress and gown as a signal of her internal political allegiance (the losing but valiant candidate of the 2022 elections) as she, her aides and guards, watched carefully for any untoward attention. Perceptive enough people would remember that Emilia was a supermodel before becoming an accredited ambassador; Miss Philippines!
Emilia would greet the Thai Ambassador with a courteous, warm nod, before moving to establish her office and make up for lost time. Despite her bravado, she had very low expectations for the meeting; China had attempted to bribe her before and then sent assassins after her when she refused, plus recruited online trolls to start a smear campaign against her. Nevertheless, orders were orders and it’s not as if evacuation routes didn’t exist - She should at least make sure she’s friendly with Task Force Obsidian’s teleportation-capable folk.
The Thai head nodded back. The Republic of the Philippines was always a welcome sight, not exclusively for the warm greetings of such a delegate. Vietnam, whose car presently trailed Emilia’s, had borne the brunt of the engagement, having lost the most casualties. The Vietnamese faces, the battle-hardened stones atypical of such a diplomatic environment, betrayed their dour attitude towards such an endeavor. In contrast, the Philippines through their Noble Arms brigade had earned themselves the flashiest victories; how fitting that a beauty pageant winner would represent the nation. They were a beacon of hope in this unbearably humid environment.
One of the Vietnamese, a rather pudgy individual, had trouble escaping his seat and opening his door. He held up a couple of his comrades in the attempt. The Thai delegate negotiated on behalf of his nation, but ASEAN acted as a pact. Best to display friendship. He strode up to the vehicle, opened the door, and extended a hand. The slack-jawed doughboy glanced up at his colleague, half contemplating whether he ought to accept the gesture. “You look like Ambassador Bunmak,” he spoke through a thick accent. He clearly knew only a handful of English words.
“It’s an honor to meet you in person, General Pham. May I help you out?”
The military man deflated in a great exhale before accepting the offer. “Help me up.”
A high-pitched honking interrupted Bunmak’s train of thought, and he looked behind the Vietnamese vehicle. The Chinese were here. They arrived in modest vehicles, especially relative to the Thai limousine and… whatever the Filipinos showed up in, but they came in numbers. The entire curb was flooded in black economy cars, blocking the Vietnamese cabbie from escaping. Men in sharp suits poured out. Bunmak had difficulty counting them all, but they appeared a couple, maybe three dozen in total. They coagulated into a well oiled machine, squads of three and four dispersing every which way upon orders from their superior: a bespectacled middle aged gentleman with a square face and a rectangular build. Once Pham was pulled outside the car, the two leaders couldn’t help but gawk at the seemingly organic efficiency, compared to the hoi polloi they witnessed with the cars.
“What do you think their orders are?” the general polled.
“Save face,” the ambassador replied. “Patch relations just enough to continue the game.”
“Bọn khốn Trung Quốc,” the general muttered.
A young firebrand spotted the two gentlemen, making one step towards them and shouting across the pavement: “你是在看三小?” The Thai delegate didn't understand, but he presumed it meant ill intent or offense and so looked away. The Vietnamese were all assembled. The Indonesians and Malaysians were close behind, waiting to park and disembark once the portable traffic jam was finally cleared. He faced the hall entrance. “We’d best make our way. The opening ceremony is a few minutes away.”
In his periphery, he spotted the very same PRC coordinator beside him, making a brief bow. His light gray suit fit him well. “Please forgive my student,” he asked. “He has much to learn about diplomacy. I am Huang Zhang, head diplomat for this endeavor. I look forward to good relations between us, personally if not professionally.” China sent their best, it appeared.
Bunmak felt such a metaphorical aura from his Vietnamese ally that he instinctively placed a firm hand on Pham’s shoulder to prevent him from throwing punches. He must have been mistaken, because Pham bowed in return, with such an angelic voice that Bunmak thought his eyes tricked him: “常在河边走, 哪能不湿鞋.” Pristine pronunciation at that.
“你懂中文嗎!” Huang’s face lit up. “你的中文很好.”
“知己知彼, 百战不殆.”
Clearly out of his league, Bunmak took his leave with a slight nod of acknowledgment and left to join his peers in the auditorium. The two heads of state chattered in the background as the Vietnamese delegation oddly followed him inside. Hopefully, he could attend the conference’s opening statements on time.
Relevant Portion
In the meantime, Emilia Naga had heard about how Huo Ren of the PRC’s ‘Zodiac’ had openly provoked a confrontation with Task Force Obsidian, with rumors that he had brought a not-so-covert member of the Downward Descent inside the building. To be honest, this was a sign that the Chinese did not intend to negotiate in good faith and that the ASEAN delegates should begin putting plans to evacuate into action. But it would be rude to their Cambodian hosts if they broke off negotiations, so she would have to move on her own once in her office.
From a PDA that was issued by a US-linked contractor for the Philippine Government of National Salvation, she sent a text to Myron Makraig of Task Force Obsidian through an encrypted National Intelligence Coordinating Agency (NICA) channel, saying, Tell me everything.
The response was, Not much to tell; Huo Ren came, brought an Avatar of Superbia disguised as a Russian observer to threaten us, and left. Or was it an official Russian observer who is also an Avatar of Superbia? They want some of our members as ‘prisoners’ for purposes best not said in polite company. Either way, we should put all eyes on him and our hosts and wait for solid proof.
A reminder that they didn’t have any. Then, Myron continued, I don’t like the looks of this; we’re going to have to cut our losses if this turns into a disaster. Cambodia has a strong history with Vietnam and Thailand and we don’t need spies in Cambodia’s Parliament to see that China is leveraging that behind the scenes. Double-check that PDA for spyware; by the way - The wider the circle of people we trust, the worse things are.
In the meantime, the other delegates were receiving news updates on how the war was going in the rest of ASEAN; the active fronts were stabilizing in Vietnam, while in the Philippines, the Danggal Clan’s surrender had brought many cities held by hostile political families back to the fold.
Myanmar was a mess, but the National Unity Government and the various Ethnic Armed Organizations were gaining ground rapidly; overrunning a chain of townships and bases held by the Military Junta, China’s ally. PRC forces have halted operations in Laos’ north in response to news of a truce, while the naval front was a chaotic mess of raids and counter-raids.
In the ‘Parallel Special Military Operation’ declared by Russia at the same time the ASEAN War started, the Russians were forced out from the city of Kherson in the Ukraine and the western third of the province.
While in Iran, which was closely allied with China and Russia, protesters were being suppressed; the authorities’ efforts were not helped by the fact that many of the dissidents had manifested Noble Arms during their resistance. Nevertheless, the balance of power was still held by the Iranian Government and that was not likely to change.
The various delegates and observers had plenty to react to…
Bunmak’s desk’s condition was far from the propriety he expected, the dignity he instilled onto his aides and apprentices. They were chatting beside each other, checking their phones and speaking in hushed, hurried tones. He approached the aide in charge of setting up his personal office and, despite being shorter than her, nonetheless maintained a looming presence. “Is there anything I should know about?”
She was startled, and jolted into compliance. “Ukraine just took Kherson,” she replied. A cocked eyebrow pressed her to explain herself further. “W-we thought it’d be a good opportunity to check on other world news. Iran, Burma, the Philippines… Vietnam has reached a standstill.” “Positive, negative? Is it urgent?”
“Just, um, mostly positive news. Nothing immediate,” she stammered.
“Very well. Keep me posted if it requires action at the negotiating table.”
He glanced over to the PRC delegation, who had an equal and opposite reaction to world happenings. Youth and their phones, eh? Huang emerged through them to check his desk layout at the last minute. He cracked open a plastic bottle of water and took a brief sip. He noticed Bunmak almost immediately. He held his bottle aloft as he would a wine glass. Whether it bade good luck or a professional courtesy, Bunmak nodded in return. The gavel sounded.
Relevant Portion
The roads outside the facility were now (finally) clear of cars; they’d parked in local lots or retreated to their hotels and embassies of origin. No longer at risk of inconveniencing the dignitaries, the Cambodian military could finally set up a perimeter worthy of respect. The event had a spattering of security personnel around the site, but respectable events required something more. Several eight-wheeled BTR-60s pulled up along the curbside, forming a defensive line around the facility. Infantry casually helped each other out of the vehicle; the force was a couple hundred in total. Late security reinforcement was better than none at all.
His aides joined the river of excess personnel swept towards the recesses of the auditorium. The ambassador, often uncomfortable with such necessities of hierarchy, unceremoniously took his seat. The moderator stood up and leaned into his microphone. Bunmak couldn’t quite remember a Turkish accent from his storied career, but Soner Tilki reminded him: “I open this session at 8:34 AM. Mark the time.” He exhaled in preparation for a long day. “Greetings, one and all. There is a lot of tension in the room today, but I hope we can treat each other as professionals.”
It was decided that a representative of a neutral country like the Republic of Turkey would sate both sides’ demand for impartiality. The Turks very apparently respected the gravity of the situation. From the corner of his eye, Bunmak spotted Pham collecting a handful of index cards. Bunmak checked his own desk; the just-in-case speech he’d written lay squarely in the middle, just as he requested. He delicately picked it up as Soner raised his gavel again. “At this time, the dais will open the floor for opening remarks and proposals.” The comforting sound of wood striking wood soothed the auditorium.
It’s generally disrespectful to raise attention before attention is requested, and disrespect is rewarded in kind. Even so, there were benefits to being the first to speak. As Bunmak gripped his seat to stand up, before General Pham even knew what happened, Huang had already shot up. It was theoretically possible to stand up that fast without jumping the gavel, and no one would shame him for being a few milliseconds early. Nonetheless, it was clear Huang had his marching orders and the adroitness to carry them out. Everyone else was just slow. “The dais recognizes the People’s Republic of China,” Tilki announced.
“Yes, sir.” Huang bowed slightly in acknowledgment, then raised a thin manila folder. “The People’s Republic of China wishes to introduce a proposal for the ethical treatment of prisoners, and we request in its discussion a four-minute speaking interval for member nations.” Tilki outstretched his hand to receive it. Huang strutted up to the podium with bridled energy and placed it with a feather’s grace. “Physical copies are available, and it has been uploaded for the delegates here, should they choose to utilize their laptops or phones.”
Four minutes was an abnormally long speaking time for representatives, and Bunmak certainly didn’t expect the PRC to jump into such a recently touchy subject so wantonly. Were they going to grandstand… against the Philippines? Surely not after the recent news of their own scandal. Tilki pulled out his reading glasses and murmured through the clauses. “Access to reading materials in their own language… Freedom from cruel and unusual punishment… Denounces malicious actors who harshly treat the soldiers of their geopolitical adversaries…” Soner raised his eyebrows. “Demand immediate release of prisoners from nations who cannot comply.” He set down the folder. “Very well. Draft accepted. Do you wish to speak first?”
“China wishes to waive that right,” Huang stated.
Soner Tilki looked out over the audience. “Any further proposals, or comments on the current draft?”
Emilia Naga rose from her seat and responded, “The Philippines wishes to note that any lapses in its treatment of PoWs are because of the number of them and the logistics of keeping them all fed, sheltered, and kept away from baying mobs who want to conduct reprisals for Chinese actions against civilian and soldier alike. What China describes has not been applied to its prisoners taken from ASEAN countries, prisoners not just taken from military combatants but also civilian populations in its campaign of what can be said to be terroristic violence. Thus, the Philippines wishes to submit a counter-proposal establishing an Independent Commission to monitor both sides’ treatment of captives, as well as establishing funding for adequate shelter, food, and other marks of humane treatment for Prisoners of War.”
She paused, then continued, “Does anyone else wish to comment on this matter?”
Tilki looked downwards, and the glow of a computer screen reflected off his glasses. He clicked his mouse a few times before concluding a course of action. “Yes, the dais receives your proposal, and it appears to be in conflict. We will now conduct a - The dais recognizes the People’s Republic of China.” Tilki must have had lightning-fast reflexes, because not even Bunmak noticed Huang call for attention.
Huang stood up promptly. “We thank the Philippines for keeping our soldiers away from their ‘baying mobs.’ We’ve likewise separated them from our own citizens. We hope to grant prisoners of war dignity beyond merciless death by mob. The rights we propose are critical for the well-being of our Chinese citizens, and we have no intention to compromise them. The draft before you is a last, best, and final offer regarding that subject, and we hope that the Philippines will see the reason in respecting prisoners of war thusly. I yield my time.” He sat gently down. Bunmak raised his hand, slowly. “The dais recognizes the Kingdom of Thailand,” spoke the moderator.
Bunmak used the desk for leverage as he stood up. “I- sorry, the Kingdom of Thailand- believes, whatever our intentions, we can make real progress if we don’t talk past each other. Now, we haven’t had the opportunity to see the offering of the People’s Republic of China. We’re certain that after looking at it, we can compile the rights outlined in both drafts into something all parties can accept. We request a recess until noon to properly give each draft the time it deserves.”
Tilki surveyed the crowd. “Any objections?” One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. “Seeing none, the request is granted. We shall reconvene at noon.” The gavel slammed down.
