Seker Yapici is much more relaxed by the time Cyrus' mishap has been fixed and the young worker has demonstrated how the newly coated candy is packed for transport. They are chatting amiably as he leads Nami back to his office.
"So you see, we are very protective of our production process. We don't usually let outsiders witness these steps. This is only the third time we have shown it to someone else," he confides.
Nami looks at him curiously. "Oh? I am presuming the first time would have been someone from the Palace of Diplomacy," she begins, "but what was the other time?"
Mister Seker chuckles happily. "When Ambassador Yusabib took over his post, he was so delighted to discover my family also had a shop here in the capital city that he requested our assistance in a team-building activity. We gave him and his staff a tour of our manufacture, then arranged for extensive taste testing of our products and let them put the finishing touches on some premade lokum flavours they could take home. He wanted to get to know his new staff members in an informal setting. It was a lovely evening!"
"The entire embassy staff?" Nami exclaims. "How did they all fit? I didn't think your store could seat more than 25 people?"
"Oh, not the entire staff! It was a small group: the ambassador himself, his assistant Miss Paon, Envoy Faqat and his assistant Mister Gin, and some additional key staff. Maybe 15 in total. Forgive me, but I don't recall all of their names. I remember the assistants because we occasionally deal with them."
"That does sound like a... lovely experience," Nami comments.
"Indeed it was. We even got to showcase how we wash the lokum when someone makes a mistake. I remember it quite clearly. Envoy Faqat ended up making the same mistake that Cyrus did today. He had accidentally grabbed a bowl of powdered sugar instead of powdered coconut and had been quite distraught about it. But there was no harm done. And for us, it was a blessing. It allowed us to show how lokum can be washed and recoated, something we don't often get to do," Mister Seker recounts with a proud expression as he leads Nami back into his office.
"Please, have a seat," he invites Nami, gesturing towards the small sitting area in the room's back. They settle down, and Mister Seker, ever the gracious host, pours them a cup of a creamy, velvety brown liquid. Golden-brown foam crowns the dark liquid, its warm aroma rising from the gilded cup with lazy steaming tendrils.
"You said you had questions," he asks as he pours. Nami nods in confirmation and reaches into her purse.
"Yes. Could you please take a look at these pictures?" she says and places several glossy photos on the table.
"What is this?! No! This is a mess!" Mister Seker exclaims before she can explain and then demands, "Who did this?!"
"Is this... is this one of yours, Mister Seker?"
"The box? Yes, though right now I wish it wasn't. That is one of our pre-packed selections. It is called "Seaside Sunrise". A hundred pieces of Katmeri delights in various red, orange and yellow-coloured flavours, arranged to represent a sunrise. Not... a checkerboard," he says distastefully, glaring at the photo. It is obvious that he is trying to keep his outrage in check for her benefit.
"Which flavours would that be?" Nami asks.
"Oh, pomegranate, cherry, rose water, fig and watermelon for red flavours; orange and tangerine for orange-coloured flavours and lemon, orange water and jasmine for yellow-coloured flavours," Mister Seker explains. Then he rises out of his seat with a brief: "Wait, I'll show you."
He returns within two minutes with a rectangular teal box in hand. It is decorated with elegant golden swirls that, upon closer inspection, are reminiscent of ocean waves.
"This is Seaside Sunrise," Mister Seker says and lifts the lid.
The candy pieces are arranged on a golden-brown plastic tray shaped into 10 rows and 12 columns. The top and bottom rows are shorter, containing only 6 pieces of candy each. Only the second and third rows, as well as the 8th and 9th rows, contain a full 12 pieces of confection, with the remaining 4 middle rows holding 10 pieces each, totalling exactly 100 pieces of candy. They are covered by an additional plastic lid. Nami notices that a thin, golden strip of adhesive tape runs around the entire circumference of the box, effectively glueing the plastic lid to the cardboard. The individual candy pieces range from deep reddish-purples to bright pinks, from golden orange to almost pastel yellow. And every single one is coated in a thin layer of a fine, white powder.
"Oh, that looks very beautiful," she compliments, eyeing the confection appreciatively. Someone has gone through the trouble of neatly arranging all the pieces in a pattern. With a fair bit of imagination, one could see a sun-like shape rising and being mirrored in the bottom half of the tray.
"Thank you. As you can see, we pack this selection with a certain pattern," Mister Seker explains, then turns the cardboard lid over and pulls out a reference sheet. "And here you see the arrangement with every piece's flavour and position listed."
Curiously, Nami examines the sheet. It contains a short paragraph about the history of lokum, a poem called "The Sweetest Dawn," various explanations about the flavours contained in the selection, and, lastly, a chart detailing which colour corresponds to which flavour.
"This is quite intricate," Nami acknowledges, and her host nods in satisfaction, clearly pleased that she noticed.
"This is one of our most popular gift boxes," Mister Seker proudly tells her.
Realizing that something is printed on the backside, Nami turns the reference sheet over. Her questioning gaze is met with various information on Mister Seker's business: everything from when it was founded, to how many generations of his family have been confectioners, how many shops the family owns and even the fact that he is an official supplier of the Palace of Diplomacy. It is quite an impressive read and reinforces the fact, that despite the shop's diminutive size, Sweet Delights is selling a high-quality product.
"Is this reference sheet contained in every box?" Nami enquires.
"Every box of pre-selections we sell at the store," Mister Seker confirms. "We usually prepack a selection of treats to show off. People who don't know what to get or are looking for an aesthetically pleasing gift selection find it easier to choose from them. But the majority of our sales are packed to order."
"What does that mean?" Nami asks.
"It means the customer picks and chooses the pieces they want in their box. If they are looking for a gift or can't decide, they might instead request one of our preset selections. Either way, we pack everything fresh and seal it under the customer's eyes here in the store," he explains.
Nami looks at him curiously. "And what about the orders coming in from the Palace of Diplomacy on behalf of the Alabastian embassy?"
"They have a catalogue of their own to choose from," Mister Seker says and rises out of his seat to fetch a copy. Nami takes the chance to sip from her cup. The creamy smoothness of Katmeri coffee wraps around her taste buds in chocolatey warmth with every sip she takes. Coffee is not usually her preferred beverage, but she has come to appreciate and enjoy how some countries serve it. A soft, dreamy sigh escapes her lips as she allows herself a piece of lokum coated in shredded coconut.
"Good coffee?" Mister Seker asks. Nami takes a moment to gather herself before she answers.
"I think you know very well that this is one of the best coffees in the world, Mister Seker," she replies. He offers her a wide, proud smile in response.
"We know how to do more than just lokum in Katmer," he says, quite pleased with himself, and holds the catalogue out to her.
It isn't a high-gloss catalogue like she would have expected, but a very simplistic print-out of the shop's product range, detailing packing sizes, weights, flavours, allergens and delivery times, where applicable. Complicated tables detail the price for individual boxes versus bulk orders. And if Nami isn't misinterpreting the tables, then the Alabastian embassy receives some nice discounts on its orders.
"This is the complete Alabastian catalogue?" Nami enquires, and Mister Seker nods. Nami pulls out her writing pad and flips it open to the notes she took of the embassy's last order and peruses the catalogue, comparing it to her notes as she does. Then she goes through the catalogue again, her brow wrinkled in concentration. Finally, she looks up, her head thoughtfully tilted and asks: "Seaside Sunrise isn't listed in the catalogue for the embassy. Why is that?"
"No, it isn't. Plainly put, it isn't varied enough for the ambassador's tastes," Mister Seker replies. At Nami's puzzled expression, he explains: "The flavours in Seaside Sunrise are all either fruity or floral, and the confections are coated in a mix of powdered sugar and corn starch. They are simplistic pieces of lokum. All of the same size and shape. No chopped nuts or dried flowers. A good gift for people who have never had lokum before and are trying it for the first time."
He takes a sip from his own cup of coffee and then goes on: "Ambassador Yusabib spent years in Katmer. My father and my brother were the ones who supplied him with lokum when he was the ambassador in my homeland, and now, it is my honour to supply him here. He prefers a wide range of flavours and textures in his lokum. He usually orders flavours that bring in nuts like pistachio, hazelnut, and coconut, both sweet and salty. He likes the varieties with dried rose petals and the ones that contain zest or shredded phyllo dough. Several varieties he prefers are rolled, not cubed. He also enjoys the classic flavours, like mastic, bergamot, lemon, date and tamarind. People who have never had lokum may find these flavours or textures strange or questionable. They gravitate towards lokum flavours and textures that don't intimidate them."
"Like cherry, lemon, orange and watermelon?" Nami guesses.
Mister Seker nods. "Exactly. All of them are flavours that people in this region are familiar with. We added a few pieces of fig, rose and jasmine lokum to let them experiment. Everything has a soft, chewy consistency. They are easy flavours to help people get used to the unique texture," he lectures. "This is why Seaside Sunrise is so popular. It's also quite affordable at just 3,000 Belli. A nice little gift box."
"And a beautiful box, too," Nami says.
"Yes, we take great pride in making every purchase feel like a luxurious indulgence, even the affordable ones," Mister Seker says. "Every box in our pre-packaged selections is designed to complement the selection's theme and flavours. We have slightly more neutral packaging for custom selections and the embassies' orders." Here, Nami raises both eyebrows.
"You have separate packaging for the embassy?"
"We do. Would you like to see it?" Mister Seker asks.
"Yes, please," Nami answers at once.
Her host leaves once more and, a few moments later, returns with pre-punched cardboard sheets that are easily folded and assembled into fold-over cardboard boxes. Both boxes are equal in size, but one is dark green while the other is ivory white. Embossed suns decorate their lids, reminiscent of each country's flag.
"This is the packaging we use for the embassies. The green one is for the Katmeri embassy and the ivory one is for the Alabastian. We call them flag boxes," Mister Seker explains. Nami picks up one of the boxes and examines it. The cardboard is quite sturdy, and there is a smooth, shiny golden foil on the inside. There are no indicators of possible contents, she realizes. It just appears to be standardised packaging.
"You put in a tray of the appropriate size, fill it with the chosen confections and seal them?" she proposes, and Mister Seker nods.
"Indeed. We also add a card to each box, detailing when the lokum was made, who packed it, and when, who performed quality control, the order number and which shipping number it belongs to," he confirms.
"And for shipments to the embassy, you only use these flag boxes?" Nami queries.
"That is correct," Mister Seker replies.
"Suppose someone from the Alabastian embassy ordered several boxes of Seaside Sunrise as a gift for diplomatic guests. What packaging would you use for delivery?"
"It would still be in the appropriate flag box, possibly made up like a gift with wrapping paper and a ribbon, if they wanted that. After all, it would be a gift presented by the Alabastian embassy, not one presented by our shop," he clarifies. His response is given firmly and without hesitancy. Nami thoughtfully taps the end of her pen against her chin.
"Is that guaranteed?" she asks, and her opposite nods resolutely.
"It is. All orders of the embassy come through the Depot Master and the Palace of Diplomacy. I handle those personally," Mr Seker stresses. "When there are larger orders for special events, the assistants of either the ambassador or the envoy approach us beforehand with what they envision. We prepare an offer that they sign off on. That signed-off offer is then handled by the Depot Master on the Palace's side and by me on our end."
Nami hums thoughtfully. The information Mister Seker has provided so far is helpful, but she feels like there is a crucial piece missing. Something that helps it all make sense, that slots into place seamlessly and helps her connect the dots, so to speak, although she isn't even certain which puzzle pieces need connecting at this point.
'That box of lokum found at the crime scene was smuggled into the palace after they had tampered with it. But I can't think of many people who could successfully do so. And I can't imagine anyone that could do it actually would,' she thinks. It's not helpful, at all.
"I don't suppose you can tell me when the box in the pictures was purchased?" she asks on a whim. If Mister Seker is put off or confused by her sudden change of direction, he doesn't let it show.
"I can check our cash book, but as I said, it's a popular selection," he replies.
"It would help a lot if you could check for sales in the past two weeks, maybe?"
With a confused expression on his face, the elder man tilts his head to the side, takes off his glasses and thoughtfully cleans them on his shirt.
"If I may ask, Miss Royal Investigator Okino, what exactly are you looking for?" Mister Seker questions.
"I don't know for sure. But I'll know it when I see it," she replies. The shop owner puts his glasses back on and crosses his arms in front of his chest.
"You are not concerned with the quality of our products or our services. You are not concerned with our hygiene or security standards, either. What are you investigating at my shop?" he finally asks.
Nami sighs, then smiles a little as she pulls out her papers. "You could stand to be a little more distrustful, Mister Seker. I would have expected you to request these right from the beginning," she replies softly. "Her Royal Highness, Crown Princess Nefertari Vivi, has appointed me Royal Investigator of the House Nefertari and I am tasked with investigating the death of His Royal Highness, King Nefertari Cobra, may he rest in light."
Mister Seker pales, then swallows hard around his dry throat.
"And... why are our lokum of interest to the Royal Investigator?" he slowly asks.
"Because I believe, Mister Seker, that someone used your lokum to commit a crime. And I am trying to figure out who and why."
"I... I see," Mister Seker says hesitantly. "Then, if I may ask, why aren't the Marines here to ask these questions?"
"I honestly don't know," Nami admits. "Perhaps I simply got here before them, or perhaps they are following a different line of thought. You are welcome to verify with the embassy whether my documents are legitimate," she offers and reaches for her cup.
She watches Mister Seker read through her papers and hopes that he won't need confirmation. The fact that the Depot Master called ahead to announce her visit should lend her claims enough credibility. And if that isn't sufficient, then surely the many stamps and seals that come with Vivi's royal signature should convince the elder Katmeri of her good intentions.
Eventually, Mister Seker returns the documents to her.
"Our Khalif has stated that the people of Katmer are to stand with our allies, our brothers and sisters in Alabasta, to support them in their dark times. Please do not hesitate to ask anything of me. I will be honoured to assist you in any way I can," he says with a deep bow.
"Thank you, Mister Seker. I will be sure to mention your support to Her Royal Highness."
"Good. Let me fetch the cash book. I am sure we can find out when this box was sold and who purchased it," he promises.
An hour and a half later, they are deeply immersed in the shop's accounting files. Sweet Delight's register does, thankfully, differentiate between purchased goods and orders to be enjoyed at the café. But it doesn't provide separate entry records of one kind or another, and so, much to Nami's displeasure, they are stuck manually going through everything. She quickly realises that her host did not lie: within the last 2 weeks alone, Sweet Delights has sold about 40 "Seaside Sunrise" boxes. It might not seem a lot, but when it is spread out over roughly 300 sales per day, trying to find individual purchases becomes a lot more tedious. To speed things up, Mr Seker even requested his wife's assistance, as she usually runs the register and does the accounting.
"I wish we had the inventory number of that box," he laments. "It would make finding the relevant sale that much simpler."
"It wouldn't necessarily help, my love," his wife replies calmly, checking yet another transaction code on the office's computer. "This one was paid for with a gift voucher, by the way."
"I am still holding out hope that they weren't smart enough to pay in cash," Nami says. Mrs Seker clucks her tongue in agreement.
"My darling, please check this purchase: entry number 1708364," Mister Seker requests. His wife's fingertips fly over the keyboard. A moment later, she gasps.
"Paid for with a credit card. Let me check... oh! I... I think this is it!" she exclaims. "This purchase is... oh... oh no..."
"Mrs Seker? What did you find?" Nami asks, moving over to the older woman seated in front of the computer.
"I... I have a purchase for Seaside Sunrise made on Nerona 10th. It was made by... by the embassy?" she hesitantly offers.
"What? That's not possible," Mr Seker says, frowning. "They always order through the Palace."
"Wait, let me try something," his wife says as he joins her and Nami in quizzically peering at the screen. "Ah, see, when I open the transaction, I can see the card details. There. That's the purchase, that's the date and time and that's the buyer," she tells them and points at her screen.
"Interesting," Nami says and notes down the date, time, name and credit card number. Mr Seker and his wife exchange uncomfortable glances.
"You don't believe that this," Mr Seker begins, only to let the unfinished sentence hang in the air between them. Even without him spelling it out, Nami knows what he is asking. She decides that one good turn deserves another.
"I believe that this," Nami says, tapping the credit card number on the screen with the backend of her pen, "is the credit card that paid for the box of Seaside Sunrise in the photos." Then she circles the name of the cardholder. "I don't know whether this person made the purchase; I do know that their card was used for it. Now, I need to figure out where their card is," she tells the shop owners.
The Seker couple exchanges a look of genuine relief. Nami watches them out of the corner of her eyes. 'No need telling them that it is too early to dismiss any suspects, let alone any with such close ties to the provider of the tampered confections,' she thinks. 'They're good people.'
"What are you going to do now?" Mr Seker asks as Nami packs up her notes and pictures.
Meanwhile...
Seker Evren, or 'Ren' to his friends, hated working the register in his parents' shop because it took valuable time away from his true passion: Motorcycle Racing. He had been obsessed with the sport ever since he was 7 years old, and it hadn't let go of him yet. At age 14, he discovered his dream bike. And he had been begging his parents to buy it for him since then. This year, in honour of his 16th birthday, they had finally gotten him the closest thing to a bike that they would allow him to have: a scooter.
At first, Ren had been mortified. A scooter! Only a bicycle would have been more embarrassing! It was bright red, too, and Ren couldn't decide whether the colour was a mockery of his dream bike or representative of his shamefully blushing face.
Suna, his older sister, had quickly reminded him that having a scooter instead of a motorbike was better than having neither. And so he had reluctantly expressed his gratitude. Once he'd passed his driver's test (first try!), he'd begun driving it around. None of his friends had a motorised vehicle, and even though they had at first laughed at his scooter, it soon became their envy. Two of his friends followed suit (Danya, who had laughed the loudest at Evren's scooter, only managed to pass his exam on his third try, which served him right!) and soon, they were zooming around the city together.
Then they had met the old mechanic who ran the old scrapyard just on the edge of the industrial district. And from him, Ren learned how to tinker on his scooter; to keep it well-maintained and handle minor repairs himself, but most importantly: to tune it up.
Ren had taken to all that like a duck to water. His scooter no longer puttered around like a glorified bicycle; it roared like a wild beast, in mimicry of the bike Ren had begun to save up for, in the hopes of becoming a racer like his idol.
And right now, he was supposed to be memorising the North-West-Loop for the upcoming race against the Wild PanSharks instead of minding the cash register. But it wasn't as if he could tell his parents that he was planning to race a notorious street gang or anything like that. So instead, when his mother yelled for him to take over "for just 5 minutes", he'd tried to hide behind homework. When that hadn't worked, he sullenly agreed and held his tongue.
That was almost two hours ago. As always, when he was standing behind the counter, the café staff took over, fixing drinks and plating orders so that all he had to do was ring them up. Unfortunately, the shop wasn't very busy today, and Ren kept sullenly thinking about all the time he was wasting sitting down here instead of upstairs with his carefully ordered pictures of the race track.
He is glaring at the television hanging on the wall opposite him when he notices that the program has somehow changed. Instead of showing the traditional Katmeri music channel that his mother favoured, there is a news program. With a frown, Ren checks the channel only to find it hasn't changed. Then his brain finally catches up to the scrolling text beneath the picture of two news anchors.
"Breaking News! Former Alabastian Ambassador Yusabib Su'Alhazi has just been arrested for the murder of King Nefertari Cobra. A spokesperson of the Marine Headquarters confirmed that Yusabib is the prime suspect in the-"
"MOM! DAD!" Evren yells, running into the shop's back and flinging open the door to his father's office. "They caught him! They caught the guy who murdered King Cobra!"
Law stares absentmindedly at his computer screen. The cursor in his text file impatiently blinks at him, as if to demand: 'Are you planning on doing some actual work anytime soon?'
He has tried to distract himself - desperately - in a myriad of ways (writing as much of his report as he can without the info still at Nami's place, doing chores, texting Nami, texting his friends, grabbing an old Sora comic, check current listings for a certain commemorative coin, and so on), but his brain keeps circling back to that special newscast he saw earlier this afternoon.
"It makes no sense," he tells his empty office. The tall bookshelves filled with medical literature don't react. The cactus on his windowsill - so far the only plant he has not yet managed to kill - remains unmoved.
Law has watched the special broadcast for two hours straight, taking in the comments of various experts and observers and what little information has been made publicly available. He researched Ambassador Yusabib online, which unsurprisingly yielded barely any results that weren't already part of the broadcast. His profile on the website of the Alabastian government and the embassy has been removed, and his page on has been suspended until further notice due to an influx of edits relating to unconfirmed information. It - together with the page for Nefertari Cobra I - was taken offline shortly after.
For the umpteenth time, he reaches for his phone and checks his messages. Nothing has changed since the last time he checked: there is still the message from his sister asking to call her back (which he has yet to do), Bepo posting a terrible pun in the Polar Tang group chat ('Where does the polar bear keep his money? In a snow bank.'), one message by Kureha to inform him he's permitted to come back to work tomorrow around 10 and a warning that someone tried to log into his bank account from a number supposedly representing a bank where he isn't even a client. Nami has yet to read his message, let alone respond to it. He briefly entertains the notion of calling her, not to arrange a time for him to pick up his stuff, but to discuss the most recent case development. Only the knowledge that she is probably out and about, investigating the case - and probably getting herself into some sort of mess - is keeping him from it. She already seems to be unhealthily predisposed to getting into trouble. There's no need to risk tipping the scales against her.
"I'm sure she'd agree with me," he mutters. "This just... just doesn't make sense," he repeats, tossing the phone back onto his deck and running his hands through his hair. He growls in frustration.
"Damnit, what were they thinking?" Law demands of the room and pushes back from his desk to pace up and down. The human skull on his desk doesn't ask him to clarify his claim. Then a memory resurfaces.
'The ambassador, Yusabib Su'Alhazi. Very opposed to the autopsy. He is a traditionalist and loyal to the crown. He has been serving as a diplomat to Alabasta for twenty years now.'
"He's a loyal traditionalist. Why would he turn on the king after 20 years in his service?" he ponders aloud, just as his phone vibrates on the desk. Snatching up the device, he reads the newest message eagerly.
"Hey Doc, sorry for the late response. I just got home for the day. Feel free to drop by whenever."
Law checks the clock. It is close to 7 in the evening. Briefly, he wonders to enquire about her dinner plans, then decides that he isn't planning on staying that long. 'I'm only going to pick up my stuff and my bike. That's all,' he reminds himself.
"I'll be there in thirty," he types back. He is relieved to see a speech bubble with three dots appearing on his screen, indicating the recipient of his message is typing.
"See you then" is Nami's response.
Law turns off his computer and the accusingly empty text file. Then he gathers his keys, wristwatch, phone and wallet.
'I'm not getting involved; I just want her opinion,' he tells himself as he hails a cab and gives the driver Nami's address.
Envoy Faqat stands tall and proud in front of her. He has a dignified expression on his face and appears utterly untouched by the turmoil of the past days. Almost, as if he were protesting against them; or possibly as if they are beneath him and cannot touch him.
His hair is carefully styled to show off the grey growing at the sides of his head, and his face is clean-shaven. Even in the dark blue of mourning and after several hours of discussions and administrative work, he seems refreshed and alert. His suit is barely creased, and the studs and hoops in his right ear gleam in the evening sun's light, nine glimmers of gold that try and fail to draw her eye for more than a moment.
Vivi doesn't know whether she finds the envoy's put-together appearance reassuring or off-putting. The many hours she has spent in his presence since her father's passing have left her only with the impression that Envoy Faqat is very dedicated to his job and very uncompromising once he has set his mind to something. But she doesn't feel like she knows him any better than she did 4 days ago.
"Thank you, Your Highness, for seeing me. Again," Faqat offers with a deep bow and a wry smile.
"Of course, Envoy. How may I assist you?" she asks, indicating the two chairs in front of the large desk that used to be her father's and, for better or for worse, is now hers. She is still struggling to adjust.
Faqat takes a seat, appearing calm yet thoughtful.
"Your Highness permitting, I would like to address a point of concern," he begins.
Vivi manages to suppress a sigh. That is another thing that she has noticed about the Envoy: he is not shy about addressing his 'concerns' and it appears that he has lots of them, for she's heard the very same line several times today, already. In his defence, he has never once raised a moot point, but he also hasn't raised any she was unaware of.
"Please, do," she nevertheless replies graciously. Faqat takes his time, clearly choosing his words carefully. When he finally begins speaking, it is with earnest conviction in his voice.
"I may be overstepping my boundaries here, and I apologise in advance. I mean no offence, Your Highness. But it appears to me that with everything that is currently happening, Your Highness is ... struggling. There are simply too many important tasks that require attention and ... Your Highness, please, you cannot handle all of them on your own," Faqat implores, leaning ever so slightly forward and searching her gaze. The concern in his light brown eyes is painfully obvious.
"I assure you, Envoy, I am not alone," Vivi politely rebuffs him.
"I did not mean to imply that Your Highness was. But I couldn't help but notice that Your Highness is in constant contact with the Royal Cabinet and the Royal Advisors in Alabasta, the Marine investigators and the Palace of Diplomacy while also having taken over for the unfortunately incarcerated Ambassador Yusabib during a period where, I believe, no one could or would fault Your Highness for secluding herself to mourn," Faqat says gently. "If you overwork yourself, you'll become sick and then what, Your Highness? Are we to lose you so soon after His Royal Highness's passing?"
It feels like a physical blow. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear takes mere moments, but it is all the time Vivi has to compose herself.
"I appreciate your concern," she begins but is immediately interrupted by Faqat.
"Please, Your Highness, don't dismiss my concerns so easily. I understand what you are doing. And your efforts are commendable, Your Highness, keeping the country running and afloat; keeping on top of the current political climate; keeping up with the investigation - Your Highness is single-handedly preventing things from becoming worse! And truthfully, Your Highness is the only person who can," Faqat stresses. "But Your Highness is only human. There are far too many day-to-day administrative trifles taking up Your Highness' valuable time and energy. And while I am sure that our allies are honoured and appreciative of Your Highness taking such a hands-on approach to our diplomatic relations, Your Highness has diplomatic personnel for this. Your Highness may and should rely on us to handle the daily trivialities. So that Your Highness may focus on the tasks that only Your Highness can perform."
Faqat leans back in his chair, holding Vivi's gaze.
"During the last 7 years, I have had the pleasure of working with both the late Ambassador Thabit as well as Mr Yusabib. Believe me, the daily formalities of the embassy are a timely and tiring affair. Both ambassadors have often expressed their distaste for it. It is necessary, however. And I strongly believe that Your Highness should not be burdened with such trifling inanities, especially not at times like these."
Faqat sighs, and it is the first time that he appears somewhat tired to Vivi.
"Your Highness should consider naming a new ambassador. Someone to replace Mr Yusabib, if only temporarily so that day-to-day business can keep going without Your Highness' involvement. It doesn't have to be me, although I am doubtlessly the most qualified. But please, Your Highness, consider delegating some of this administrative... nonsense," he finishes and gets out of his seat.
He bows deeply. "That is all I had to say. Thank you for your time, Your Highness."
As the door closes on his retreating form, Vivi slumps in her chair.
"With your permission?" Igaram, standing behind her, enquires carefully. The princess responds with a permissive flick of the wrist. That's another thing she is struggling to adjust to: this strange formality that has trickled into her interactions with people she has known all her life, people she considers family, and who are now obliged to show her the proper respect as sovereign of her kingdom.
"Concerning the envoy, I agree with your father's assessment. Faqat Al'Kadhib is a resolute and single-minded individual. But a good diplomat is not only assertive. He is also a good listener. And patient. These are qualities that I currently do not see in Envoy Faqat. I am sure he is dedicated and eager to prove himself. But he also seems either blind or ignorant of more subtle messages," Igaram finishes.
"Is that why father assigned Ambassador Yusabib to this post when he asked to retire? Do you know?" Vivi asks softly.
"I believe so, yes. He had expressed his hope that Envoy Faqat would learn a few things from Ambassador Yusabib."
"Well," Vivi says after a long moment, "it doesn't appear like he did."
Review Responses:
Lali - Hola Lali! Me ha encantado leer tu reseña. Muchas gracias por tus amables palabras! Sí, a mí también me sorprende haber vuelto a escribir después de todos estos años, pero lo estoy disfrutando bastante y sinceramente no me da la sensación de haber desaprendido/olvidado el tema, como pensaba. Tengo esta historia totalmente planeada y tendrá entre 14 y 15 capítulos, dependiendo de si me puedo portar bien o no. Un consejo para vosotros: los capítulos caen primero en AO3. También pido disculpas por la calidad de este texto; fue traducido por AI porque hablo alemán, inglés y francés, pero ni una pizca de español más allá de «No habla español».
Espero que mi historia siga entreteniéndote. Cuídate, Lali. Con amor, CherishCherries
lexifrank221 - Thank you for your kind words! There will be between 14 to 15 chapters, depending on whether I can behave myself or not. I hope you will continue to enjoy the story. Take care! CherishCherries
