The Grand Chancellor of Khandazar sits in his opulently furnished private study, which had once belonged to the Emperor of Khandazar, picking his teeth with a throwing knife and contemplating the room's eastern wall. Pinned there and illuminated by the light of the setting sun streaming through his windows are myriad drawings, paintings, and other artistic representations of a young woman with raven hair. In the center of these works is a very realistic painting of a raven-haired toddler in a simple Vyrunian dress, standing on a rock in the middle of a river with an expression of absolute horror, watching as a Vyrunian soldier is beheaded by a Khandazarian assassin.
"Back from the dead, it would seem, little jewel," he mutters to himself. "Fate has seen fit to give me another chance to lay claim to Vyrunia through you. Kidnapping you from the palace failed miserably. Kidnapping you from those who would have hidden you was more successful, but you slipped out of my grasp. This time will be different. This time I cannot fail. Mordalce is becoming a bit of a nuisance, but it, too, shall become mine, in due time--"
A knocking at the door interrupts his monologue. Without hesitation he throws his knife at the door, where it sticks satisfyingly at about head level.
"WHO DARES TO DISTURB ME?!" he thunders.
"Forgive me, Your Eminence, Most Wise and Benevolent of Rulers," an obsequious voice snivels outside. "I would not have disturbed you, but we have received a message from the Queen of Mordalce, and I thought--"
"Bring it in, you whimpering slug." The door creaks open slowly to reveal a trembling, terrified young man in the dun-colored robe of a servant. He was selected randomly by the Grand Chancellor's lesser-ranking colleagues to interrupt His Eminence's scheduled private scheming time, as none of them dared to do so themselves. The servant bows upon entering the room, then scurries to the Grand Chancellor's desk, bows again, and holds the parchment with the Mordalcean seal in tremulous hands as an offering to his lord and master.
"The Board of Chancellors sent you with this, didn't they?" the Grand Chancellor demands as he takes the message, his greying, bushy eyebrows conveying distaste and boredom.
"Yes, Your Eminence."
"Cowardly fools. Have they yet examined its contents?"
"I do not believe so, Your Eminence. I believe the seal is yet unbroken, though of course I could be mistaken, Your Eminence."
"Begone, fool. Its contents do not concern you." The servant bows again and swiftly backs out of the room, closing the door behind him. Once outside, he sinks to the floor and sighs heavily in relief, grateful that his head is still in its rightful place and his organs are not spilling across the floor.
Meanwhile, inside his private study, the Grand Chancellor has pulled another knife from a drawer in his desk and used it to open the Mordalcean parchment, which was indeed still sealed.
To His Eminence, the Grand Chancellor of Khandazar, long may he rule and prosper,
We hope this message finds you in good health and that your country continues to flourish under your gracious and benevolent rule. Your people are blessed to be subject to such an illustrious group of statesman of enlightened ideals as yourself and your fellow Chancellors, of which you are of course the most brightly shining star. Unfortunately, not all of your subordinates are quite as exemplary in all things as yourself, and, unhappily, our purpose in writing you is not a pleasant one.
We regret to inform you that, earlier this evening, a group of five Khandazarian emissaries burst uninvited and armed into the Hall of Private Audience, where we were meeting with our advisers regarding matters of state. Not only did these men violently breach palace security, but they coerced a servant into violating palace protocol on their behalf and jeopardized the security of all of our palace's inhabitants. While we admit that our palace security was perhaps a bit lax--rest assured that this fault will be remedied forthwith--the fact remains that there was no reason for persons working for the leader of a nation with which we have had only peaceful dealings for the past several decades to feel the need to forcibly invade our seat of governance.
The emissaries in question were apprehended by our security forces and are currently being held as prisoners. They will be treated with the respect and kindness due to persons of their exalted rank and their connection to yourself, as they claim they were sent on your behalf. However, we refuse to release them until you have apologized for and explained your reasoning for sending them to us in such an undiplomatic fashion, and for a purpose that, begging your pardon, seems not to warrant the brashness of this incident. These emissaries claim that you sent them "to ensure that Khandazar has a fair chance" at wooing the recently returned Princess of Vyrunia at our upcoming Midsummer's Eve Ball. If this is in fact the case, we would like to remind you that it is your right to hold a ball of your own whensoever you choose and to invite whomever you see fit. If it is not the case, then we also demand that you explain why your emissaries have lied to us about their purpose in violating our national security.
We have no wish for war with Khandazar, Your Eminence. Up until this incident, your country and ours have had peaceful relations and, if we have not been officially allies, neither have we been enemies. We most ardently desire that this issue be handled diplomatically and resolved peaceably. However, should you not send an apology and an explanation, as previously stipulated, within a fortnight, please be advised that we may cut off all trade with Khandazar, that your emissaries may be kept here indefinitely, and that no invitation to the Midsummer's Eve Ball will be forthcoming. Should you accept our terms, your presence at the Midsummer's Eve Ball may yet be negotiated, your emissaries will return unharmed, and our trade agreements will remain as they are.
Your consideration and swift reply are immeasurably appreciated.
Sincerely,
Her Majesty Queen Bêtel of Mordalce
As he reads this carefully worded message (which was actually mostly written by Prince Xavier and then translated into Khandazarian by the court linguist), his overgrown eyebrows rise higher and higher on his bald scalp, threatening to fly off his head entirely as his face and head redden with rage.
"A pox on all Mordalce!" he curses, along with several other, less pleasant exclamations. "And let the fools who've put me in this position rot! I'll not be rescuing them from anything. The nerve of this worthless Queen, who thinks to write to ME in such a tone! She has no idea whom she's dealing with, that is plain. If my emissaries can show up uninvited to a council meeting, what makes them think I shan't do the same at their pathetic little ball? Or, better yet, take the Princess for myself before that event can even take place? You'll be getting no apologies from me, brazen Mordalcean riffraff! Wait and see, scum! The Princess will be mine. Vyrunia will be mine. And, in due time, your precious little kingdom will also be mine, and you will be burned alive for your disrespect to me."
He leaps out of his chair to storm from the room, parchment in hand. Before leaving, however, he walks up to the collection of artwork on the eastern wall.
"I'm coming for you, little jewel. Someday, you will finally be mine."
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