Helen Wilde was the Bretonian consul to the Crayter Republic. She had everything a woman could desire: a doctorate from Cambridge, a relatively well-off family, a stable career, her own place to live at (in fact a few of them), influential friends, love too, and above all, respect. All but good looks -- Wilde was not known as an object of desire for most men, and was still not even when she was younger and less overweight -- but she did not really care what most men thought about her. All but good looks and membership to the correct political party.
Wilde was a member of the Social Democratic Federation. They were the leaders of the opposition in the Bretonian Parliament. That was why she was appointed to this duty -- not because she was competent, but because Planet Yuma was far from Bretonia. She was aware of that, but with last year's elections victory by the centrist Whigs, she expected her de facto exile to end soon. Yet she was not entirely looking forward to that. During her appointment, which was for most of the Gallic War, she made a very close acquaintance that she would find painful to part from, perhaps forever.
Denise Wiggins was the secretary of Crayter's minister of foreign affairs. She was ten years younger than Wilde and although she could not study at Cambridge, Wiggins had a mind that Wilde considered rare and often a challenge too. Although Wiggins was rather unlike Wilde by appearance and often captivated men's views and imagination, she too did not really care what they thought of her. She and Wilde became quite intimate companions over the years.
This morning there was a note on Wiggins' desk, with Wilde's handwriting. It said:
Despite her youth, Denise had been a mostly active member of the Foreign Affairs Ministry for a considerable duration of the Gallic War, and though the Ministry had recently suffered a round of rotations in staff, she remained along with a handful of others, primarily due to experience in the position. She hadn't even known the new Minister long before she was elected, but like a glove over a warm hand they fit rather well together.
Denise spent much of her time, however, relaying between the foreign consulates in New Thessalonica and the Minister herself, keeping the well oiled machine running, all the while keeping the humanity flowing. The representative from Liberty seemed to enjoy her interest in chess above most else, and each time she passed by the now defunct Auxesian consulate she'd pass a small glare at the empty greeter's chair, perhaps out of habit, or maybe out of spite.
She'd noticed the note on her desk, taking note for after her work day. Over the course of the day, she'd gathered what she'd assumed the note would imply, placing it in her small office mini-fridge until she'd finished, taking a stroll towards the Consulate's small housing area. It wasn't quite home to many of the representatives who resided here, but given Yuma's relative proximity to both Liberty and Bretonia, and the presence of trade routes, it wouldn't have been hard to make even the most foreign mind to Crayter thinking feel at home.
Denise soon arrived at Helen's abode, giving the bell a ring, a bag in hand with presumably what the note implied.
"Give me that!", Wilde said when she snatched the cucumber from the bag, almost voraciously. She ran back into the kitchen, rinsed it and started making a salad. She seemed tense, but Wilde was known to be tense at times because she took details that often avoided other people's attention, very seriously. That was something Wiggins both liked and hated about her.
"I want to talk with you. Most say the storm is over, but there's still a lot happening. I haven't got any orders myself, hence I'm talking with you and not with your boss. But I know that my government is negotiating something with Kusari as we speak. What I'm sure of is that Gallia has become a potential threat again and Bretonia is looking to improve relations with Kusari. What I'm afraid of is that this cause might be important enough to sacrifice Crayter's interests for its benefit."
Wilde shook a bottle of yoghurt. Her attentiveness to detail could not avoid noticing that she had just shaken something else too.
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