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“And your Chancellor's proposed solution to our current trade tensions is to trade snow for sand?” Hubert shoved his glasses sharply up his nose as he straightened his posture. “How did you come to reach this fascinating conclusion, Captain?”
Malik's invitation to spend the rest period together had come as no surprise to Hubert; it was a common enough occurrence and the Captain's easy company was always agreeable. However, this strange insistence on raising business was more than a little unusual, and left Hubert unsettled. If Malik was serious about this ludicrous trade agreement, surely he could have proposed it before the rest of the council? Given the likelihood that he was therefore not serious, Hubert found himself expecting to be the subject of a jest—but Malik remained far too steadily on topic for that to be so. Hubert's nerves stung from the stress of it.
Malik, comfortably seated with his arms spread across the lounger’s backrest, smiled faintly and gave a slight shrug. “Fendel has an excess of one, and Strahta has plenty of the other. It's simple enough, isn't it? Just profitable trade.”
Hubert shook his head. “No. That does not explain how the agreement would be profitable to either of us. We of Strahta know how useless sand is.”
A smile spread across Malik's face as he adopted an instructional tone. “Now Hubert, what would snow provide your country with?”
“I'm not a child.” Hubert snapped, cheeks reddening. He simply could not read this situation; Malik continued to tease him but refused to give him any clarification on whether this was a serious discussion or not. “Snow clearly benefits us by providing a source of clean, potable water, which we are always seeking. However, I am not in the practice of accepting contracts which appear to benefit only one of the signing parties. It's too suspicious.”
“You think I'm suspicious, Hubert?”
Hubert narrowed his eyes as Malik chuckled in his direction. “That you are my friend and former travelling companion does not give me leave to sign irrational trade agreements. The President trusts me to make sound, informed decisions regarding the fate of Strahta and its allegiance with Fendel, trust which I do not intend to betray for your amusement.” He meant to stop there, but Hubert's voice rose as he went on without pause. He was out of patience. “Personally, I'd like to see you take something seriously for once! You have a large number of young admirers in Strahta, Windor, and Fendel alike, and they could do with their hero playing his part accordingly, rather than comporting shady business behind closed doors and blustering about without thought of the consequences. You're much more important than you seem to realise.” Hubert bit his lip on the last words, and looked away. That was far more than he'd meant to say.
Malik had risen at some point during the speech, his expression shuttered and his gaze fixed on Hubert. By the time Hubert had finished speaking, Malik was standing just before him, and Hubert could not stand the weight in his eyes. Malik took hold of Hubert by the chin as he spoke, his words low. “You've never lived in Fendel, so you wouldn't know that a loose layer of sand sprinkled across its surface makes ice less slippery. Your country is dry, so you don't realise that a packed layer of sand on the floor of a cold house will help keep it from going damp while it's heated, and in turn make our heating more efficient. With enough distribution, even places like Velanik would benefit.”
“I'm—” Hubert started, but Malik interrupted him.
“I'm not finished. I've lost two friends to the idea that all of Fendel could be made healthy again, and I'm sick of knowing how much people suffer because all Fendel's trade earnings still go into the military. This kind of simple, goods-based trade agreement benefits everyone. No one outside of Fendel would realise how much a commodity no one else wants will help us, and no one else needs to. You're no exception to that, Hubert.”
“I didn't know.” Hubert muttered, brushing Malik's hand away as he felt his cheeks warming once more. “I do now. All you had to do was explain. You could have brought it up correctly, while the meeting was in session. I would have been required to take you seriously then.”
“Seems to me you took me seriously enough anyway.” Malik sighed and shook his head, the corners of his lips twitching. “If it was anyone but you who had to accept it, I would have.”
Hubert bristled again. “What difference do I make?”
“You ask questions.” Malik said it simply, and laid a finger on Hubert's lips to stem further protest from arising. “You demand answers. Anyone else would have blindly accepted the proposal as a stupid idea benefitting Strahta alone.”
Hubert grabbed Malik's wrist and pulled it away from his mouth, frowning. “Are you saying I'm acting inappropriately by ensuring any treaties I sign for are soundly written and free from nonsense and that instead I should blithely accept every offer thrown my way if it seems to benefit Strahta?”
“No, I'm saying you make things more complicated than they need to be.” Malik smiled again, fondly this time.
“Well.” Hubert huffed. What was he supposed to say now?! “... Well.”
Malik leaned forward. “Well?”
Hubert pushed Malik back into his seat before he could go any father.
Bugs buzzed merrily outside the window, and Erwin prayed for the day's proceedings to finish. If there wasn't so much stupid ceremony to go through, they'd have finished an hour ago. He'd been a scribe for so many years that he could barely listen to the discussions and still record them precisely, but King Richard's call for any lingering matters of business always caught his attention. Here it was: the end of the day—freedom—or more inane work.
“If I may?” The young Strahtan military commander raised his hand and, after a nod from King Richard, rose to his feet; Erwin resisted the urge to sigh and dutifully readied his pen. Oswell gave a faint nod towards the assembled counsellors before turning his attention to Caesar of Fendel and spreading his hands to either side of himself. “The President of Strahta has asked me to find a means of reinforcing our allegiance with Fendel. The President considers you strong allies and I agree with him. You are also in the possession of something we Strahtans value most highly: water.”
Someone in the assembly coughed—masking a chuckle, Erwin supposed—and Oswell turned sharply towards him, his fingers flying upwards to readjust his glasses, “You may question my logic. However, Fendel's frigid climate allows it to consistently produce large quantities of snow, which I am sure you all know melts into water. Going forward, we of Strahta are looking for means which reduce our previous dependance on our valkines, Duplemar. Such a trade agreement with Fendel would allow us to do so.”
Oswell turned back to address Caesar directly. “Captain Malik of Fendel, I would like to formally request a treaty of trade between Strahta and Fendel. I am sure we will be able to find a solution that is acceptable to both parties.”
Erwin caught a glimpse of an expression entirely too pleased for politics on Caesar's face before he gave assent. As he recorded the day's final words, he wondered what that was all about.