The New President
Summary: Murcania has elected itself a new president and the most influential people in Ankh-Morpork must decide what to make of him.
Disclaimer: The Discworld belongs to Terry Pratchett. Any resemblance to any person living, dead or currently holding the highest seat of power in a rich, developed country is absolutely intended.
You can't trust any bugger further than you can throw him,
and there's nothing you can do about it,
so let's have a drink.
-Terry Pratchett
Inside the Patrician's palace several men with serious, concerned looks on their faces gathered around a large table. "They've elected a new president in Murcania." The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork Lord Havelock Vetinari spoke calmly and quietly giving his assembled audience no clue to whether or not he considered this a good thing.
"I've heard he's..." Lord Downey of the Assassins' Guild chose his words carefully. "Inventive."
Lord Vetinari nodded. "That is a word that has also been used to describe me."
"With all due respect sir..." Archchancellor Ridcully of the Unseen University spoke in the tone of voice of someone who knew perfectly well that anyone using the phrase 'with all due respect' usually meant the opposite. "You can be very inventive sir."
"I heard he did not in fact get the most votes, yet somehow he still won." Mr. Slant, head of the Guild of Lawyers smiled as he spoke, a devilish, calculating smile, which seemed to suggest he was filing this information away for later use.
"Yes, I do believe this is true." The Patrician was not opposed to democracy as such, as long as the only person getting the vote was him.
"He is also said to be a liar." Hughnon Ridcully, High priest of Blind Io, was morally opposed to lying, naturally. Practically though, was another matter entirely.
"I wouldn't put it like that." The lawyer interjected. "He's merely offering...alternate truths."
"He is a politician." The Patrician pointed out. All assembled at the table nodded. "He has also alluded to laws that would make it more difficult for outsiders to trade with Murcania." The Patrician continued.
"His motto I believe is Murcania first, which is a completely understandable sentiment of course." Mr. Slant offered. "But perhaps we could persuade him to make Ankh-Morpork second?"
"Do we even want to trade with Murcania?" Commander Samual Vimes of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch asked. "Isn't he trying to ban Klatchians from entering Murcania?"
"You make a fair point commander." The Patrician conceded. "If he so callously breaks with Klatch, what insurance do we have that he won't do the same to us."
Vimes shook his head. "That wasn't really what I meant." He was met with blank stares from around the table. "Never mind."
"I don't understand why he's that colour." Hughnon Ridcully exclaimed. Although it is true that Ankh-Morpork harbours a multi-coloured society, this does not however, equate to tolerance. Black and white will live together in perfect harmony, but gang up together on green.
"I have wondered about his colouring, it is possible that he is of the undead persuasion and in an attempt to appear living, simply overdid it with the colouring." Mr. Slant suggested.
"The man rants and raves at journalists and when they report that he rants and raves he calls them liars." Archchancellor Ridcully shook his head. "Sounds to me like the man could use some of those dried frog pills the bursar takes."
"Archchancellor, did you just call a friendly neighbouring statesman a lunatic?" The Patrician inquired calmly.
Ridcully managed to look affronted. "My lord, are you suggesting I keep an insane person on as a member of my staff?"
Vetinari smiled. "Indeed I am." Ridcully simply shrugged at this.
"The man has said horrible things about women." Vimes tried once again to appeal to some moral integrity on the other occupants of the table's part.
"About particular women, or women in general?" The High Priest asked carefully.
"Both." Vimes snapped, deciding to be outraged on the behalf of women everywhere.
"That seems to me a rather unhelpful strategy during a campaign." Lord Downey observed.
"Indeed, women are valued members of society." Hughnon Ridcully said and Samuel Vimes let out a sigh of relief to know there was at least a shred of morality present at the table. The High Priest opened his mouth again and Vimes realized he judged too soon. "After all, who else will do the cooking and the cleaning." He finished. The other occupants around the table nodded as Vimes dropped his head into his hands and decided to give up.
"Sir, do you wish the Assassins' Guild to take proactive measures where this new president is concerned?" Lord Downey inquired tactfully.
The Patrician folded his hands and smiled. "An amusing idea Lord Downey, but I like this new president, he could prove to be useful."
"Useful sir?" Vimes asked confused.
The Patrician nodded. "Oh yes, there's two as can play this game commander, and I have been playing it for a lot longer."
"All I'll say about it is that I'm glad he's not in charge of Ankh-Morpork." Archchancellor Ridcully said.
"Excellent." Vetinari stood up. "Thank you for a very enlightening meeting gentlemen." The Patrician motioned towards the door.
"Uhm, that's it? You do not wish to take any legal measures my lord?" Mr. Slant asked with a frown.
The Patrician shook his head. "No, no need for that yet, and let's hope it won't have to come to that either."
Mr. Slant wrung his hands together and muttered. "Let's hope it does." Then he smiled at the Patrician. "Very well your excellency."
"Gentlemen, I'm sure you have much more pressing matters to attend, please don't let me detain you any longer." Vetinari said pleasantly and once again motioned for the door.
The men exchanged confused looks, nothing seemed to have been decided, but when the Patrician once again motioned for the door, they quickly took their leave.
Everyone filed out of the room quietly, when the last one had departed Rufus Drumknott, Vetinari's chief clerk softly closed the door behind him and turned towards his master. "Did you have a productive meeting my lord?"
The patrician sauntered over to the window and looked out over Ankh-Morpork. "It'll be interesting to see what this new president is going to do, I'll be keeping a close eye on him."
Drumknott cleared his throat nervously. "If you don't mind me saying sir, there is an old saying sir, it goes: better the devil you know."
Vetinari turned to his clerk and nodded. "It is a good saying, but I would improve on it by saying that the devil you choose is even better."
The End.
Please forgive me for this, I just had to.
