All pieces in place. [Cheri/Invite]

Life has been busy. Life was busy before, too; while we’re on the subject, I’d like to make it clear that there was not a single day, nor moment, that Cheri had ever not been busy fulfilling at least one of the many, many responsibilities of hers. Now, though? Now that she was the chancellor officially, and all of those big jobs that were distributed around in the interregnum could once again all be stuck on one person? ‘Life has been busy’ was so much of an understatement that calling it an understatement was, itself, a drastic understatement.

Today, Cheri had set out a decent chunk of time (actually not all that long at all, but it looked like quite the big thing compared to the other few dozen things she needed to get done that day) to meet with the Emperor of Arcose, Azoth. Now, this was a person that Cheri had already been rather acquainted with and, to a similar degree that Cheri reckoned she understood how Azoth approached matters of politics, she figured that Azoth had an understanding of her perspective, as well. She did not anticipate that this meeting would go disagreeably… but, of course, she was prepared for any given subject.

With imperceptibly slight and outstandingly precise movements of her pupil and finger, her scouter sent the appropriate indication. That tuffle at the computer, who was spending spare seconds manually mining cryptocurrencies in his head, had just received through superluminal internet the all-clear to usher the kind emperor in.

It was her office. Not personally her own, but rather it was the office of the chancellor, and hers only to the extent that she worked there. This was not a chair, until a few days ago, that had been sat in for many a foul year. The room was not yet adorned with the personal touches that would make it homey or personal, which was just as well given that she didn’t have any personal touches to give it. As soon as Azoth entered the room, her chair, his chair and the table would all appropriately react: the chairs and table, levitating and made of programmable matter, would rise (for if Azoth were to sit in one at their default height, his feet wouldn’t have the space to be comfortable), and in particular the chair that quite literally had his name written on it had moved into position and, smartly, had expanded, so as to not squeeze his butt. On the desk, there were only a few papers (not truly paper, for they were constantly updating with new information) and a few screens. No keyboard was visibly present.

”Welcome to Plant, Emperor Azoth. I hope you haven’t hit your head on too many doorframes.” Truly, the curse of being tall was a vile one.

Yes, there was the whole Vegetan situation, the destron predicament, saibabeast infestations and so on, but one only dealt with them generally, as abstracts. While they were certainly very real dangers, one was reminded of them only abstractly. If the tuffle people as a whole were to collectively stop bothering, it would take at least a small moment before the consequences ultimately caught up to them. Because of this reason, doorframes were far more pressing a concern, for, for the tall, they made their presence known whenever they can.

”Thank you.” Brisk, curt. It didn’t stay on any matter for long— or at all, for that matter. It was entirely respectful, sure, at least for as much as only two words could be. She was not the sort of person to bask in the glory of her own accomplishments.

Moving on quickly, she perked up, showing far more interest in that which could actually be done, and the work that sat ahead of her, instead of behind. ”Of course, dear emperor.” Trade was already happening, but this was just the natural trading and smuggling happening as one would expect it to in a loose-yet-knit galactic community. Best avoided, if one can manage it. What was novel was the direct trade, and the official national agreements to make trade between such forces a good bit more mutually beneficial. Plant had a lot to give: the best scouters, the best blasters; if there was a piece of technology that it was hypothetically possible for anyone to be best in, there was a quite solid chance that the tuffles were the best at it. The Arcosians, to contrast, had plenty in the way of resources, not only by sheer quantity but also in the volume of their selection, being able to gather a large number of strange and exploitable resources from many planets across their controlled space. ”I am sure such connections will bring about quite a lot of happiness for quite a lot of people.” As if by felicific calculus. Of course, this meant that the focus would not be on the trading of arms, so much, but Cheri figured Azoth had already figured that much. And destron, of course, was so far off the table it had somehow fallen off the idiomatic floor.

Cheri was silent for a moment as she leaned back into her chair, which, being remarkably clever technology, shifted to suit this change. ”I, too, am in talks with Taori.” She had also, as well, met him before he had been king, but that wasn’t quite relevant enough to bring up. ”Talks which are going well. While I am, of course, rather quite grateful for your willingness to assist in this matter,” and while Cheri did not doubt that he was offering out of altruism, it was also certainly in his practical best interests and, indeed, the best for the galactic community as a whole, ”I feel that this is a matter best resolved… locally, so to say. I have no issue with the idea of you being present at such an event,” but others could and would, since it could be quite easily construed that an Arcosian presence was strong-arming such a movement instead of its being carried out as motivated from authentic sources and means, ”but, if such a momentous occasion could truly and meaningfully carry with it a historical weight, the sort to result in a real and positive change in the cultural mindset, it is because that moment was arrived at purely between those who had been, for so long, combatants.” The comment about not asking for payment seemed rather strange (and, if Cheri were not as mature as she was, even a bit insulting), because it seemed to imply that a payment might have been appropriate in the situation.