<i>I find </i>politics<i> tedious. Negotiations are a waste of time. It’s easier to just take what I want by force.</i><br/><br/>Ryland's eyebrows lifted, but there was still the hint of a smile on his face. "You would find little would stand in your way," he said, quite nonchalant, "except the mountains."<br/><br/>Banque's sliver of territory was nestled in a long, green valley between two mountain ranges, smack in the middle of nations either too landlocked or with sea territory too full of cliffs to take advantage of sea trade. The reason it was so prosperous and independent laid much in that fact. Every decent pass through meant trade--and soldiers--passed through them.<br/><br/>But Kethaias certainly had enough mages, soldiers, and supplies to invade them if he so pleased. It would just take time. Probably as much time as negotiations did.<br/><br/>Much less exciting, however. Ryland thought he might at least remedy a little bit of that--without the requisite bloodshed, of course.<br/><br/>This time when Kethaias sent him a disapproving look, Ryland did laugh. Wagers were hardly uncommon sport among nobility, at least in Banque. Generally over cards or<i>actual</i>sports, although what people and lovers got up to during parties and such were largely as frivolous as what Ryland had laid out for terms.<br/><br/>He thought for a moment the king would tell him he was being<i>tedious</i>, but Ryland watched the little transformation in his glance and knew he'd struck some interest.<br/><br/><i>Very well. I accept. So long as you promise not to be upset when you fail and realize you have to pay up. This is obviously just between you and me, so the prize I pick won’t directly involve your kingdom. I’ll make it more… personal than that.</i><br/><br/>Ryland nearly flushed, but he tamped down hard on the swell of surprise in that.<i>Personal</i>, indeed.<br/><br/>"If you believe I am a sore loser--or that I will lose at all--" A wink. "--Your Majesty does not know me." He swept a short bow and then straightened. "The wager is struck. On your honor, now, Your Majesty, it still counts as a smile if I'm not there to see it."<br/><br/>A brief smile, a knock at the door to have the servant come answer it, and Ryland was on his way.<br/><br/>He bothered Gharreld. Because who else would know more about Kethaias and his homeland than the one who might one day have to face him on a battlefield, and who daily now faced him across a table of trade agreements, tariff documents, and lists of goods?<br/><br/>Ryland sent Kethaias greenhouse-grown flowers from his native country. His favorite food. A book of poetry, a beautiful dagger, a kitten.<br/><br/>They were all sent privately, of course. This was a private bet, as Kethaias had made sure to intimate to Ryland. None of it was so ostentatious, anyway. They could have been from anyone, and it didn't seem as though Kethaias was letting many see his personal effects anyway, so that the only thing that seemed unreasonable was Ryland's sudden interest in bothering Gharreld.<br/><br/>"Why do you want to do know?" Gharreld asked, attempting to boot Ryland from his room so that he could sleep.<br/><br/>"I want to throw a party," Ryland said. "You can't deny it might help relations for our two peoples to mix, and what better way than that? I might set a trend with an exotic theme like this, and it might impress the king--emperor--whatever it is he's styling himself--that we know so much about his culture."<br/><br/>He could see Gharreld turning this over behind his fearsome expression. "If you argued half so well toward things that--"<br/><br/>Ryland abruptly sat up, grimacing. "I think I'm late for--something. An appointment. You look so tired! Working so hard for us. I should be going and let you rest." He was already halfway toward the door. "Well, I'll be sure to send you an invite when all is in order."<br/><br/>When he had his invitations written out--on red paper with gold and white calligraphy--he went to Kethaias' room to deliver his personally. He'd been sure to dress pleasingly, in dark velvet and buckskin, highlighting his own coloring and the lean lines of his form.<br/><br/>The servants let him into the antechamber right away, of course. It would be rude to dismiss a royal prince without at least showing one's face. Ryland thanked the servant with a small hand gesture and then when the man had gone, turned in place to do a little snooping. Not that antechambers turned up much in general, but it was interesting to note, for example, the calling cards and invitations left on the silver plate.<br/><br/>He was blatantly sifting through them when the servant came out to announce Kethaias, and Ryland didn't even bother to glance up for a moment, shuffling a card in his hands to the back of the pile.<br/><br/>"Oh no," he said. "Not Verialle, unless you're fond of torture. He's trying to marry off his daughters." He let the cards slip off into the dish, turning a smile to the king. "Have I won yet? No? Pity. Well, I still have ample time."<br/><br/>He fastened his hands behind his back and gave a charming smile. "No need to invite me in; I've only come to deliver an invitation. A party I'm throwing in your honor. I thought I might extend myself as well to offer you an instructor, in case you were unfamiliar with Banquish dances?"