A Deal with the Devil You Don't Know (Franerre-Galra)

[callmedelta]

The village of Saint Laurent Avary, 5km from the Galran Border

One Jean Dupont of the Franerri Royal Gendarmerie opened his backpack one last time, reviewing all of its contents before setting out. A day’s worth of food and canteen of water, check. A map with known and suspected locations of Galran border patrols in the area, along with a compass for navigation, check. False identification as one ‘Jean Dupont*,’ colonel in the Franerri army, check. A book of translations, in case his own skills failed him. Check. Suicide pill. Check. As little of a paper trail leading back to the Franerri government as could be reasonably made, given the nature of his mission. He repacked the contents of the bag, placing the suicide pill in the pocket of his civilian clothes. The first rays of sunlight were beginning to peek their way over the horizon. It was time to get to work.

Jean left Saint Laurent Avary, heading east. It took him over an hour and a half to get to the closest spot marked out on the map, then another ten minutes of waiting for the first patrol to arrive. Taking a deep breath, Jean stepped out in front of the patrol with his hands raised and shouted in accented Galran, “Don’t shoot!”

---

*Jean Dupont is the Franerri equivalent to John Doe

[Sophie]

The Galran patrols of the border were intensive. With the recent rumblings of their interior, nearly every border Galra owned had been fully shut down with military patrols. Mere minutes after Jean Dupont crossed the border, three rifles were trained on him, all voices were shouting and screaming conflicting orders in Galran.

"Get on the fucking ground right now!"
"Turn around and put your hands behind your back!"
"Hands! Show me your fucking hands right now!"

Assuming that Jean provided no threat and followed at least one of their orders, he was arrested. Everything in his pockets was taken from him and was searched for information. After a few days of barely any food or water, locked in a cold cell, Jean was dragged into an interrogation cell. "So, Jean Dupont." The man spoke in Galran with little care if he could be understood. "What the fuck do you think you were doing crossing the border illegally?"

[callmedelta]

Jean's heart raced in his chest as the rifles were pointed at him. It was a bit hard to tell the specifics of what they were screaming, given the fact that Galran wasn't his first language, but he got the general gist of it, laying down on the ground with his hands on his head. This was all a bit more intensive than he'd preferred, but it beat being shot any day of the week. Being thrown into a cold cell without being given any opportunity to explain himself really wasn't doing the Galran's any favors to him, but his opinion didn't exactly matter on this mission.

"What I'm doing is acting as a messenger from some interested parties in Franerre," Jean said in heavily-accented Galran, too tired for his voice to be anything but monotone. "That's what I was trying to explain to you a few days ago. I'm sure you Galrans have read the papers; Franerre lost the war, and the Gaelians and Lusatians stood by and did nothing. Some people in Franerre believe that the Lusatians are still worthy allies, despite their failures. The interests I represent think otherwise. We think that you Galrans would actually be willing to fight for Franerre, to allow her to reclaim what is rightfully hers. Given that the interests I represent aren't exactly in control of the Franerri government, we couldn't send an official representative to your mainland, especially not without alerting the Lusatians. This was thought to be the best option. That's everything I know."

[Greywall]

A loud knock would be heard from outside the door of the interrogation room, the Galrans inside opened the door slightly and after a few whispers, disappeared. In their place were tall men, covered head to toe speaking in electronic voices in a language Jean wouldn't recognize.

"Greez Na Gurant" "Torz Ne Korl"

Inquisitors, the right hand of the Galran church, deadly secret police and from behind them would be a well dressed man in a white two piece suit speaking in Frannerri. "My my, I am so sorry. This is a tragedy, this horrid treatment. They shouldn't have done this, I done told them not to but do they listen? Guards am I right?" He then pulled a chair, taking a white piece of cloth and wiping it down before sitting. "I am, Lt. Governor Michael Bayburn, I take it you're some Frannerri coming here to the enlightened Empire to...offer us something" he smiled at the last part, a smile that would send chills down anyone's spine. This man, this flamboyant man who tried to speak in an innocent and caring tone...was the most dangerous man in the room.

[callmedelta]

The Lieutenant Governor? Things were about to go very well or very poorly for Jean. The...Jean didn't even know what to call those soldiers with the governor, but the only thing that bode worse than that was the man himself. He had the grin of a predator, and that made Jean the prey. He knew what he was getting into the with the Galrans, but it was different to see it up close and personal. But what was some uncomfortability compared to the fate of the nation? "It was as I had said to those guards, Lieutenant Governor," Jean said in Franerri, his voice still monotone from his lack of energy, but with the faintest hint of a more cautious edge. "I represent some interested parties in Franerre. We fought Kumosenkan, and pled for Lusatian and Gaelian aid on our hands and knees begging. They did nothing, and now Elenerre is gone. The parties I represent believe it is in Franerre's best interest to shift away from our friendship with the Lusatians and Gaelia. You Galrans make for a natural ally -- if there is one nation who comes close to hating the spiders as much as Franerre does, it's you. But if the party I represent were to...make this diplomatic shift a reality, let's say, we would need the support for the King. If he spoke out against anything my party did, it wouldn't last a week before it was undone and every member of my party was removed from any position of power. The Lusatians have offered us 40 billion Zloty annually, as well as cheap licenses for practically their entire arsenal. For His Highness to give his approval for anything we did, we would need a better offer from Galra. One I was hoping to get coming here."

[Greywall]

Bayburn's eyes just stared right through Jean, as if he was some other worldly creature seeing a human for the first time and knowing it could destroy it with ease, "Well of course, the Lusatians are a depressing people they tend to do better dying than living and doing anything of worth. And the Gaelics are cross dressers, not fit allies. You have come...to the right place Jean, can I offer you some tea?" He clicked his hands and a Galran staff member placed a fine Elenrian china set of tea cups and kettle on the table, the hot tea was poured for Jean and pushed toward him as Bayburn took his and slowly drank it, "Elenrian china. Nothing like it in the world, this set is over a hundred years old. If what you say is true, and you can deliver Frannerre to us. Well, we can deliver you my friend. Vengeance."

He sipped the tea, his eyes still goring through Jean, the guards silently watching Jean as if they expected him to do something off.  

[callmedelta]

Jean reached for the teacup. His hands were dirty, given that he hadn't seen a bath for the past three days. Wiping his hands on his pants did little more than shift the grime around, but Jean hoped that the Lieutenant Governor would see that he had at least tried to respect the fine china. Jean lifted the teacup to his lips and sniffed at it. He wasn't exactly a tea drinker, but the drink didn't seem off. Not that Jean could exactly smell poison, but he knew very well that if they wanted to, there were worse ways to go than poison. Jean took a sip of the tea. A little hot, but it went down smooth. Jean took a deep breath. What he was about to say risked offending the man greatly, but it had to be said. "I mean no offense to you, Lieutenant Governor," Jean said, "But the Gaelians and Lusatians promised to deliver us defense, and, well, look at where Franerre is now. Actions, as they say, speak louder than words."

[Greywall]

The Lt. Governor gave an annoyed expression, as if a child had defied a parent. "The Sovereign Union can begin work on getting Frannerre caught to where it needs to be, weapons, arms and training. The only thing I ask, is that Frannerre follow bloc orders, we have grand plans for Touli. And I expect obedience to pay back what is being done."

[callmedelta]

An annoyed expression was better an death, at least. "I'm sure people much more knowledgeable on the subject than I are very interested in the specifics of the weapons, arms, and training you're offering, as well as your grand plans for Touli. But I'm just a messenger, meant to see if you were amenable to such a deal in the first place. Perhaps we could set up a time and a place for a more proper meeting, and better channels for communication than sneaking across each other's borders."

[Greywall]

Bayburn smiled, waving his hand over for the staff member to pour more tea into his and Jean's cup. "Here's to Touli's future then."

Once this meeting concluded Galran officials from Wochourhiel would request a formal meeting with the Frannerre government.

[callmedelta]

Pareau, Franerre. Two weeks after the internment of Jean Dupont.

The train steamed into Pareau Central Station, as it did every day on schedule. Passengers embarked and passengers alighted, as they did every day. Today, of all days, two very special passengers exited the train. Two men, one Franerri, and a quiet, pale foreigner. A Galran, of course, but ever since the Gendarmerie agent had assisted the man in crossing the border from the Galran side, he had kept his speaking to an absolute minimum as to not give anyone even the slightest chance of recognizing the foreigner for how dangerous he truly was. Once in Pareau, the pair were met by another Gendarmerie agent with a car, who drove the now-trio to the private home of Director Legault. Perhaps it wasn't the most dignified place for a meeting, but it was far less suspicious for the Galran to stay here than at Fort Duval.

The two Gendarmerie agents escorted the Galran inside to the sitting room, where the members of the conspiracy were waiting. The room itself was bland, if serviceable, Legault a man of function over form. To his sides sat General Cailleaux and Marshal Zelgius, the former looking rather eager, while the Marshal carried an impassive face. Generals Ranulf and Tauroneo sat to the left of Zelgius, Leclere sitting to Cailleaux's right. When the Galran arrived, Director Legault's face broke into a thin-lipped smile. "Welcome, honored guest. My name is Director Virgil Legault. I trust there were no incidents during your transit?" Legault asked, staring over the shoulder of the Galran at the two Gendarmerie agents standing at the door. One of the men behind the Galran nodded. "Good. Can I get you anything to eat or drink? I know you Galrans have a more limited palette for your meals, but I can't claim to be an expert on the specifics, unfortunately, so I hope I can accommodate you."

[Greywall]

The Galran in question was Eric Stowe, a high ranking official of the Imperial State, and was assigned to obtain Frannerre for the SU. He made pained disgusted faces at the home of Legault thinking of how lowly it was compared to his own, he also couldn't hide his disdain for the thought of being offered food from infidels.

"I'm quiet fine, the trip was horrid, I trust one day this....uh...country can properly repair its roads?"

[callmedelta]

General Cailleaux's eagerness seemed to be dampened a bit at the Galran's comment, but Legault's thin-lipped smile didn't seem to falter. "In a roundabout way, I suppose that's exactly what we're here to discuss. What benefits Franerre could expect if a...diplomatic realignment away from Gaelia and Lusatia and towards Galra occurs. Such a diplomatic realignment is not an action that is possible to take back, at least not at great expense to Franerre. Our King, ever-cautious, wants to make sure that any faith placed in an alliance with Galra is placed properly and in Franerre's best interest. The betrayal from Lusatia and Gaelia has him on edge regarding such matters, understandably."

[Greywall]

"Rest assured, you'll be joining us with the full assurance of being in the strongest political position your Kingdom will ever be in. The days of the Entente dictating policy are coming to an end. The moment Frannerre joins us we will begin uplifting the nation immediately."

[callmedelta]

"Vagueness will not abate our King's cautiousness, nor will it inspire good will in the Franerri public when they eventually learn of our realignment," Legault said, in that cautious tone one used when criticizing important people without offending them. "What is 'uplifting?' Is it merely military aid? If so, how many guns, bullets, tanks, and planes are we speaking of? Are licenses for domestic production on offer? What of prices for all these things? Is this economic aid, to 'repair the roads,' as you put it? Would these be loans, or pure aid? These are the kinds of questions people will ask of me when the realignment occurs, and I want to give them the clearest answer possible. To clearly and decisively show Galran superiority to the Entente."