Prime Minister Torryn Giles was a tall, rail-thin whip of a man. His black hair was slicked back, and though the smile on his angled face was genuine, he always seemed to have something close to a smirk adorning his features, like he had a secret held close to the chest. While this was almost guaranteed as the leader of his small island nation, the secret itself was certainly not coming out of him.
The car they’d gotten from the Sartorians was a good model, with a provided driver and everything. Giles’ own Secret Service bodyguards had taken two positions, one in the front passenger seat and the other directly to his left. Security here was high in light of the summit, and while a full platoon of Federal Marines were locked, loaded and ready to go on the schooner down in the harbor, they would remain there lest something serious occur, as a courtesy to the Principality. In the meantime, two agents with machine pistols would do to get him to the front door of the Palazzo Malzo, almost assured safety.
Zimynam, for its size and isolation, hadn’t been much involved in foreign policy. It could simply take its strong navy and completely isolate the island from the rest of the world if need be, and that was roughly where the Federal Republic had been sitting by and large the past few decades, watching the world around them. Giles had, however, received the summons, and decided now of all times would be a good one to finally step back out into the world of foreign affairs.
“Mister Prime Minister,” Agent Corvis was saying from beside him. “We have all contingencies in place that we can assure. Extraction is prepared and ready should an incident occur.”
“While I appreciate your vigilance,” Giles replied, his face still carrying that light, casual smile. “I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to attempt an attack in the capital of the world’s superpower while over a dozen minor nations are in attendance.”
“We need to be ready, Mister Prime Minister,” Agent Umbrey replied. “These kinds of crises always come with little warning. If someone is bold enough, it’ll happen one way or another.”
They left the issue alone as the car finally pulled up, and the three passengers stepped out, Giles adjusting his suit as he pulled out his cane. For a young man of forty-one (young for a politician, at least), the use of a cane might be unusual, but the leg injury he’d suffered in his youth had never properly healed, leaving him with a severe limp. As the two agents took his flank, he pulled himself up the stairs as best he could, finally coming to the top of the steps.
It was here that he first met First Councilor Marco Valerio.
The agents surrendered their machine pistols without opposition. Carrying the weapons this far was a mere precaution anyway, and now security was entrusted to the Sartorians. But Giles strode as smoothly as he could towards the Councilor, an honest and genuine smile on his face as he extended a hand.
“Councilor Valerio, our gracious host, I assume? Given these fortuitous circumstances, I am honored to personally greet you in this historic meeting. I would have sent an ambassador, but for a summit such as this, I feel a more personal meeting might be a sight more courteous, yes? Let us hope our future relations can help to make up for our lack of past associations.”