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Dispatch → Account → Diplomacy
by 
The Imperial Federation of Regna Loreau.
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"It doesn't have to be convincing, just plausible."
"It doesn't have to be convincing, just plausible."
The Garden, Rosewood Manor "Plausible deniability." "That's what they want from me now? Plausible deniability?" The seated woman gave a small noise of amusement as she stared at the cover sheet of the document in her hands. The deep blue folder was stamped with white typewriter font - Unternehmen Valkyrien. Operation Valkyrie. Underneath, slightly angled off level, was a white stamp in large letters [CLASSIFIED]. The man opposite her regarded her with a look little short of being utterly unimpressed with the comment she had just made. A slight hum of displeasure left him. "It's no more than what the Government asked of you before. It's what you signed up for." "Doesn't mean I have to like it." With a noise of soft frustration, the seated woman set the folder down upon the table that rested between them, regarding the Naval Officer who had brought her the document with an unplaceable firmness. "What do you know of this Unternehmen Valkyrien?" "Enough. Enough to know that walls have ears and a throw away remark could be disastrous." The Officer had his hat in his hands, the dark blue peaked cap clutched under his arm. Olivier Mae Armfeld drummed her fingers upon the table as she regarded the man - he couldn't have been younger than his mid thirties, but the uniform he wore was almost certainly wrong. He was dressed as a Fänrik - an acting Sub-Lieutenant - but the nature of the document, from the brief flick through of it she had done, told her that he was nothing less than a Captain. "Well, you're a very well educated Fänrik if that's the case." To his credit, the man had entirely no reaction to the remark, but that in and of itself told her even more. This man was probably not even a naval officer, he was probably intelligence of some kind, be it Naval or Venus Society. Her guess was on the former, which probably meant he was the latter, as no self respecting Naval Intelligence officer would disguise himself as the man before her. Venus Society.. Yes, that seemed more on brand, given prolonged observation of this man. He reminded her of many of her own subordinates who drew their expertise from their time in the legendary organisation. The way he carried himself was just a little off for a Naval Officer, a little too ready to defend himself should the situation arise, a little too alert with his eyes, too quick on the draw, so to speak. "I'll see to it that the right people get wind of this. You may inform the Admiralty and the Society that I'm taking the necessary measures." Picking up her cup of tea, Olivier took a long sip of the piping hot beverage and gave a satisfied sigh. Brewed to perfection, as always. Marie would have to be rewarded for such consistently wonderful work. "How did it go, Ewen?" The man gave a sigh as he tossed the blue peaked cap across the room, where it slid to a stop in front of the third person seated in the conference room, a casual display of skill that told the seated Arcadian all she wanted to know about the encounter. Olivier Mae Armfeld was a formidable woman, far more so than most military officials. Zoë Caris would probably have put her on the same level as herself, although they inhabited that position for very different reasons. Whereas Olivier chose to be seen, Zoë preferred to remain in the shadows. It was her job, after all. "About as well as you'd expect. She tagged me as Venus Society at the end, but that was within expectations." With a sigh, he sat down opposite her in the room, turning to regard the actual Naval Officer with a thin and humourless smile. "No troubles with the delivery, however, Admiral." The seated woman stared impassively at the hat for a moment, before flicking her gaze back to Zoë. The woman was seated at the head of the table, one hand resting upon it, clad in white gloves. Of Baharati complexion, she wore neutral features, with just a slight bit of iron beneath them. It was to be expected, though. Chief of Operations for the Avaris Section, Admiral Laila Desai stared across at them, silent for a handful of seconds. When she spoke, her voice was considered, her tone measured. "As expected. Armfeld was Intelligence aboard Resiliance during Serbistan. The vessel cam under attack three hundred and eighty five times during the seven years she was posted aboard." Zoë pursed her lips - someone had evidently done their research on their own. Though, to be fair, the Admiral likely had unfettered access to Naval archives, as opposed to the Venus Society's strictly on-request access. With a track record like Armfeld's, it was unsurprising that she had such insight into situations - combat made you, or it broke you. "Five task forces have been established and remanded to the Rose Garden for service at the behest of the  Salcanceacyan Government - at least, officially. Unofficially, they are operating at the behest of the Loreauan Government." The naval officer gave them one final look, a slight quirk of her lips as they twitched downwards. "Suppress any whisper of such for now.""That won't work in the long run. Its going to be obvious abroad, too." Ewen's remark drew another downwards twitch from the Admiral's lips. "How did she say it to you? Plausible deniability?" Zoë's partner had the dignity to look almost stunned by the remark. Conversely, the Admiral's lips now twitched upwards somewhat, out of the slight frown. "That will be all, Commander Mallory." She couldn't help herself as they left the room, Zoë giving a soft chuckle under her breath. Naval officers were all the same. "Ah.. Men. What simple creatures." |
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