The Emperor's Luncheon

In the land of Glasnaught there sits a palace carved from pink sapphires. One would be forgiven for never having heard of pink sapphires, as the only people who have ever heard of these pink sapphires are either those who have been exiled from Glasnaught, or those who been told about them from through word of the exile's mouths. Among the latter, a scant few merchants know of their beauty, and the impoverished populace know only of them through whispers and legends.

The Aldebrant Empire, which reigns over the prosperous land of Glasnaught, is like a rich woman dressed in all white. She holds galas and balls only for those deemed worthy, her rich family and her rich family's friends. The servants cannot partake in the festivities, and those below them cannot even dream of what grand treasures and feasts are held within. Yes, the Aldebrant Empire is a vain thing, and its mood, much like the rich woman's dress, is all too easily stained.

Your name is Princess Cornpuff The Many Speckled, heiress and rapidly ascending Queen to the Corncob dynasty. Yours is a diminutive country to the south-west of Glasnaught whose main export, as one could guess, is corn. This of course includes the many products that can be derived from course, but the main takeaway that every country that deals with your home is that you grow and sell corn.

Your country does not sell corn to Glasnaught.

No country sells to Glasnaught.

Because Glasnaught is perfect. In Glasnaught, when it is cold, it is only so that the people may make snowmans. In Glasnaught, it is only hot so that the people may get tan. In Glasnaught, where wheat grows all year, where flowers choke out weeds, where the ground is ore and the pebbles are diamonds, where in Glasnaught there are no criminals, one truth above all is believed by its people, and forced upon their lesser neighbors.

No country sells to Glasnaught because Glasnaught does not need them.

Except Venice. Because Venice, as Emperor Gladorius Seveticus Rex The Seventy-Second puts it: "Has boats."

Venice is also the only country with boats. With Glasnaught in the middle, surrounded on all sides by its lesser neighbors, only Venice has boats. This is because Venice, at one point in its ancient history, had one of its merchants guilds patent every single boat design ever created. This would not have been so bad, if they did not also set up an inquisition that would go out and simultaneously charge those who tried using said patented designs with fines worth a king's ransom, while also stealing the designs of those who created their own. All stolen designs would then immediately be sent back to the nation's Vile Doge and subsequently patented.

This inquisition, of course, is fully backed and endorsed by Glasnaught, which has a standing army strong enough to conquer all of its neighbors twice over.

Your home, the Cornucopia Kingdom, is no exception. What is exceptional, though, is that your kingdom shares borders with Venice. Because of this, your father, King Mazzorbo "Cornball" Doge The Stringed, was originally the third and youngest son of the now aged and decrepit Vile Doge's family. He was married to your mother, Queen Popcorn The Well Oiled for two years before you were born to ensure good relations, and another fifteen before she passed away in a horrible runaway pop-cart accident. It was four months ago when your father tragically met his end after attempting to eat twelve baby corncobs at once. His last words were: "I've been the King of Corn for twenty years! I'll eat as many of these tiny babies as I want!"

His epitaph respectfully does not include them.

Though not overly wealthy, thanks to your father's connections to Venice, the country was kept from succumbing to abject poverty. Low tariffs, favorable loans, and the Venetian's love of corn had been fueling Cornucopia's economy for the last twenty years. What meager prosperity that brought was sure to end with your father's death. If your kingdom was to rise into a wealthy nation, one where the people were fat and happy, you would need to secure access to Venice's boats. Boats that were only ever rented out to Glasnaught.

Seven days after your father's death, notices arrived saying that the tariffs on your exported corn would be doubled by the the end of the year, and the rates for the loan your country took three years ago after a record setting low harvest would be tripled annually. These gracious dates were only afforded thanks to your father's death and subsequent will. Requests to extend these dates were immediately denied and signed by the Vile Doge himself. Evidently the love your grandfather had for your father did not extend to you. This was claimed to have been done "To assuage claims of familial favoritism from the other lesser countries."

Your father's will had one final request in it, one that could help you do the impossible, one that could save your kingdom. A request that, intentional or not, could be the only shot Cornucopia had at getting the boats it needed.

Your Uncle, Servolo Doge, second in line to the position of Doge, was to be tasked with helping you secure a husband to help you rule Cornucopia. Uncle Servolo himself was married to a 'lesser lady' who had enough money to buy Cornucopia herself. She was not one for charity and refused to help, but she did know another lesser noble who had a daughter who knew a servant whose cousin had a butler who frequently went out to have a "secret" relationship with a hair dresser whose husband was an influential cup bearer who had ties to a bachelor's anonymous group which had a recent addition of one young, shy, noble son who had claimed to have had many failed attempts at finding a wife and was looking for help from the other gentlemen of the club.

He was your in. It was a long shot. It was a tenuous connection at best. But no matter how lesser a noble from Glasnaught was, they were still several times wealthier and more influential than your mother and father had ever been, and while securing boats would have its difficulties, even with his aid, it would be on the table, it would be possible, and thus Cornucopia could be saved from economic devastation.

It had been months, but you finally received the reply. You were to travel with your Uncle Servolo to the capital of Glasnaught and attend a luncheon of the noble's choosing. Should it go well, the proper courting period would be begun, and you would live with the noble and his family to further cement your relationship, or dissolve it should the need be, while the Corn Council and seneschal ran the country in your stead.

Your letter had been written, edited, and revised exactly thirty-five times, as you took input from your Uncle, your seneschal, and the head scribe of the Corn Council to ensure that the letter was received favorably by the anonymous noble. It included the proper deference, the proper ego stroking, it informed him that she was a young princess looking for a husband, but left out exactly where she was from, and how her father had perished. Just an anonymous princess looking for a spouse. This, her Uncle hoped, would prevent her from initially looking like a charity case at best, or a gold digger at worst.

To the nobility of Glasnaught, there did not seem to be much of a difference between the two when it came to their lesser neighbors.

His letter was short and rather polite for a Glasnaught noble. This meant it lacked much pontification on his superiority, and actually thanked the anonymous princess for responding and being willing to meet an anonymous noble. It did have one odd request tacked on at the end, though. Traditionally, Glasnaught nobility asks for a dowry of the best a partner has to offer. Inside Glasnaught, this tends to be an exchange of whatever the two families specialize in producing. For marriages between Glasnaught nobles and outsiders, this is a one sided affair with the outsider having to bring an obscene amount of wealth, a family heirloom, or at bear minimum the finest produce. The Glasnaught noble would only bring themselves, as being married to them was a dowry enough in their minds. The fact that Glasnaught would only receive goods from other countries when it was given to them for free in marriage was not lost on its neighbors.

One-thousand pounds of the finest corn, divided evenly between white, yellow, blue, red and speckled, eighty barrels of kernels, three-hundred dried and scented stalks, and thirty barrels of the most luxurious peanut oil stolen fifty years ago from your other neighbor Tunaep during the Corn-Nut War. This, along with five thousand ducats was the best your country could manage. This would hopefully satisfy the expected dowry. In the noble's letter, a worrying request had been tacked at the end.

"If you could, please bring me what I do not already possess."

This simple sentence ate away at you for the entire week it took to travel to the capital. Despite the your uncle's attempts at humor, the plush seats of the carriage, and the beauty of the alabaster castles, towers, and crystal palace that made up the capital you could only worry about the noble's request. What could you bring to a nobleman of a country that had everything? Technically, it was unlikely he had ANY of the things you had brought, but you felt that was not the point. He could have corn, he could have oil, he could have money. To that end, you brought for his request your father's ceremonial mask and your family's secret recipe for popcorn. The former was a tradition of Venetian aristocracy, where in nobles would have ornate masks designed for their children for their many disguise parties, and royalty in particular would have unique oils and perfumes stored in them that allegedly could create illusions to fool the wisest sage or seduce the meekest monk. Your family's popcorn was tasty. You never tested the former but you could attest to the latter.

When your carriage stopped, you were in front of the designated meeting spot. An alabaster restaurant that was rather popular among Glasnaught commoners and was known for serving small, black, pitted fruits that could be used in oil and grew commonly in the gardens of the far east side of Glasnaught, a section that neighbored a country called Alleeve. Armed with the details of your dowry, and treasures, you stepped out. Looking around, it only took a moment to spot him waving to you.

You were not allowed to screw up. For your father, for your mother, for the people of your kingdom you needed to get those boats.

Black hair and black eyes with a black suit and a black tie. On his back was a black cape and on his feet too were his black shoes. The only other colors shown was the white of his silken undershirt and the gold trims sewn into the edges of his cape and suit.

At his gesture you sat down and before you could utter a word he smiled and asked: "I know the veranda is a bit open, but hopefully you do not mind the outdoor chair? Not as comfortable as the booths but I feel the breeze is nice this time of year."

You nodded fervently, too nervous to disagree and ruin the Glasnaught noble's mood. "Do not worry, among Glasnaught nobles I am quite repudiated. Too casual and concerning of others, they say. Because of that, I willing to see what I requested for at the end, and not first. Please instead, may I have the honor of knowing your name?"

He asked your name. Would he recognize you? Surely a Glasnaught noble would not care about the goings on of the lesser countries? Would he know you were looking for his wealth? His power?

"My name is Cornpuff, your lordship."

He blinked.

You blinked.

"Hm, yes, I wonder..." He frowned. On the table he put his hands, and upon them he rested his chin in thought.

Soon though he looked back up to you. "You are a princess, are you not?"

"That I am your lordship."

That got a chuckle out of him.

"Of Cornucopia, I presume?"

HE KNOWS! HE KNOWS THAT YOU HAVE NOTHING TO OFFER AND THAT YOU ARE BUT AN EMPTY HUSK TO BE SWEPT AWAY BY THE WIND!

"I always try to keep up with the customary naming conventions of the other countries and make sport of guessing who is from where. Tell me, am I correct?"

"Yes your lordship."

"Hm, very good, very good. Ah, it would seem our waiter has arrived. What would you like to drink? Do not fear the cost, I am entertaining you today."

Ah. Somehow, in the rush of accruing fortunes and dowries, you and your advisors had forgotten you allot you the proper funds for the meal. You of course would have had a bit of money on you, in theory, with your servants or Uncle Servolo, if you had bothered to bring them or him with you to the meal. But to do so would have intruded his anonymity, would it not!? Or was it the case that you looked even more pathetic without them!?

"Good choice!" You didn't say anything, what does he mean!?

"I too enjoy silent water. Good for sore throats and the like. My father would always get a kick out of me refusing to say it when we would go on our occasional outings."

"Your father?"

"Yes, my father... sadly part of the reason I am having dinner tonight is at his request. On his deathbed he asked that I should search for a suitable wife if I had not found one by the time of his passing, so that my grief for his grand, unmatched parental love for me would not form into an unceasing, terminal void within my heart."

"I am in a similar situation, actually." The young noble raised his brows.

"Oh really?" Alright Cornpuff, now's the time to show him what your worth!

"Yes, my father too loved me so deeply and had the same request foisted upon my Uncle Servolo. For that reason, and though it may be early, I wish to propose my dowry for consideration, as well as these two precious heirlooms." From your travel bag you began first to pull out the documents.

"Two glasses of silent water, and may I begin serving the entrés or would you like the main course?"

"You know I am not one for the small dealings Fredrico, I would prefer the main course as usual... unless you would prefer some light fair, princess Cornpuff?"

The trip had been long, and you were rather hungry, but if you accepted, would he look down on your decision as the whims of someone who preferred small "dealings?" Would he see your proposal as small dealings?

"No, the main course is fine." You looked around, there was no menu. "I will simply have as his lordship will have." The servant and noble shared a look.

"How agreeable."

The young nobleman ordered a dish of noodles served with a sweet pink sauce called "Sapphire Spaghetti."

"Now, what was it you wanted to show me?"

"Yes, about my dowry..."

The nobleman looked over the parchment. A few times he clicked his tongue. A few times he spit out a chuckle, a few times quietly coughed. Up and down he seemed to read it over five times.

"I presume my request is not within this small fair?"

Your heart raced. He disliked small fair and that was exactly what you brought him. Even to a lesser noble as himself, being one of Glasnaught meant that it was worth next to nothing.

"No, of course not your lordship."

Again he chuckled.

"Oh, and tell me, why do you call me lord?"

Eh, because he was nobility? Seemingly reading your mind, the nobleman gestured to the pink palace off in the distance.

"Many lords and ladies inhabit the land of Glasnaught, but we do not call ourselves as such. We refer to our equals as gems, our lessers, when appropriate, dirt, and our superiors lustrous. Only the emperor is called our lord amongst ourselves, so then, do you think me emperor?"

"No, of course not your lustrous-ness. I simply wished to show you proper respect. As such, though my dowry be meager, I also brought these two heirlooms, trinkets they may be to you, in our country they our precious, one of Venice, from my father, and the other from Cornucopia, from my mother."

You show him your treasures and explain the benefits of the one, and the tastiness of the other. As you finish doing so, your orders arrive. He gives a single laugh as you put them away and you eat your meal in silence.

"I asked you to bring me what I don't have, and though I have been given many things I have never owned, I have yet to be fulfilled. Why is that?"

The once easy air the nobleman put on was gone. Replaced by it was his gaze. Sharp and bored. "Speak wisely, many before you have answered hastily and have been rejected just as quickly."

Presented with his ultimatum, all you can do is stare in silent panic as you think for an answer.

Like boiling kernels in hot oil, potential answers sizzled and sizzled until...

*pop*

"Because none have become your bride."

He smirked.

"All before you have have had double the wealth but not even half the wit."

"I, Emperor Gladorius Seveticus Rex The Seventy-Third, invite you to my palace to stay."