The East PacificBoard

As if in response to the trumpeter’s comments, a light, lively piano melody began in the background. The change to swing music went mostly unnoticed by the clamorous crowds—to them, the musical portion of the evening’s entertainment was long over—but Katrina Tchenya perceived it and its implications immediately. She did not like what she heard. But she did not skip a beat, “I have not had the pleasure. It is unfortunate that the Koroletzi symphonies could not perform tonight…” she crooned sweetly. The second half of the thought, of course, did not leave her lips; her emotions were well restrained by years of diplomatic training. In truth, it sickened her. “so we could be treated to a more cultural colonization.” Millennia ago, it would be unimaginable to have Evrigenis import the products of another culture. The relationship was once the reverse: Evrigenese food, music, and tradition had once been exported across Valsora. Although the ancient soft power had only translated into a small outpost in Antarctia, the modern Evrigenese identity remained empowered by the memory of the country’s cultural hegemony. That the physical world had changed much since those times was acknowledged, yes, but it was unimportant. The country’s roots lay in universal, timeless ideals. Like music, justice and hospitality and honor evoked the same meaning for any member of every culture. Or so Katrina had thought. She and Danto had been at odds about the ideals since they were both brought under the same government to head different Ministries. His power games would distract from the main objective of tonight. These considerations forced Katrina to choose her next words carefully. “but that does not mean we will not be happy to hear them later as our countries harmonize our relations.” She pauses to chew. Katrina knew she was not the only one at the table with strong opinions.

Oblivious to the trumpeter’s discomfort and all too aware of his own, Nicolas Danto did not dare add another word to the conversation. It would just be fuel for the fire. He detested Tchenya’s smug smile and thought better of it. If his silence needed to be excused, anyone within eyeshot of Nicolas could see a full mouth barely concealing a heaping forkful of Burek. He was naturally large in stature, but that fact did not completely account for his eating habits. Only the stress of this strange encounter would explain it. Normally, he would savor the foreign cuisine and enjoy it slowly, but being so near Tchenya only inflamed the situation—and his appetite. He wished he could just escape. What damage could she do if she was left alone with Vasic? The question niggled at him, but the tension had become unbearable. After an exchange of platitudes and simple excuses, he fled the heat of the Great Hall for the chilly outdoors. Release. Nicolas had not been expecting to find company—who else would be crazy enough to be out at this time in this weather?—so he rubbed his eyes when he saw a young man approaching. Even more incredible was that this other man appeared to be the trumpeter’s twin. Same height, same build, same eye- and hair-colour, even. And when Nicolas heard the other man’s voice...

"Toe-Ma Vay-Sick..." Thomas Vulcaph pronounced the trumpeter's name slowly, letting the syllables crumble in the dry winter air. Thomas had been rehearsing for an interview per the Minister of Culture’s instructions while he made his way to the Great Hall. The operation was intended to be covert, but even the best laid plans oft go awry. Thomas found an attentive audience in the Minister of Trade. And the Minister of Trade found an attentive audience in him.

Since so many conflicting stories are told about this moment, little is known about what exactly happened during their meeting. All we know for certain is that neither man was aware of the import of their encounter. It seemed underwhelming. Without the benefit of hindsight, going forward with the planned interview with the trumpeter or even a randomly-selected concert attendee would seem to be more impactful. But the Kallipolis Weekly reporter received another set of secretive ideas and instructions from Danto. Whose plan he intended to execute is also murky. What did happen in the public account is as follows.

The Minister of Trade was the first concert-goer to depart the Green Ring. Thomas was soon after seen hastily wolfing down a small serving of Sarma. When the meal was over, the time for action had arrived. Thomas Vulcaph, subconsciously or not, assumed Nicolas Danto’s posture and gait as he strode towards Katrina and Toma’s table. The two appeared to be engrossed in musical discussion before Thomas interjected. The poor musician would be subjected to at least one more question, whether it made him uncomfortable or not. The question, to Katrina’s surprise, was not an exchange of pleasantries before the critical “Would you allow Kallipolis Weekly an interview”; instead, it was four simple words. “Do I know you?”