The Martial Unity

“You’re pronouncing it wrong!” A woman hissed at Rui. “It’s H’ahmatouoho, not H’ahmatoooho!”

“H’ah-H’ahmatouoho?” Rui stuttered.

“Not bad but do better!” She glared at him, seemingly uncaring of his status as a Martial Artist.

If not for the fact that Rui retained the patience and maturity that came with fifty-nine years of life, he may very well have lost patience with his highly passionate linguistic trainer in his training of the Vilun dialect.

Rui struggled with the tongue-twisting number of syllables that every word seemed to have. Even a simple greeting had as many syllables as a normal sentence in the Kandrian language.

“I would like to revisit the wisdom of relying on a translator.” Rui straightforwardly told Carl.

“Nice try, but no,” Carl replied, amused.

“Senior Ceeran could rely on a translator,” Rui pointed out. “Why can’t I do the same?”

“Senior Ceeran easily has enough clout to do away with having to learn a dialect,” Carl honestly replied. “Learning new languages is too difficult for him and is far too not worth his time as a Martial Senior. The first point entirely does not apply to you, and the fact that you’re an external member of the Martial Union does not help you either.”

Rui sighed as he resumed his training with the linguistic trainer.

Thankfully, it appeared that the dialect was much smaller, simpler, and less sophisticated structurally. This was reflected in the state of their development as a society. They were highly primitive in every sense. Their developments as far as theoretical, esoteric science and technology were practically non-existent with the sole exception being their mysterious and albeit much inferior version of the Squire evolution breakthrough.

Asides from that, the very concept of economics was non-existent, their geography was limited to that of the island, their history was not well documented and recorded, and their sense of sociology was highly warped and limited.

This meant that their language was equally limited because their communication was also highly limited. As a citizen of the Kandrian Empire, there were vast amounts of information that could and was communicated regarding matters of the world they lived in and their lives in it.

The same couldn’t be said for the Martial tribes of Vilun island.

Their conception of reality was fundamentally far more limited.

Thenouns and verbs could be listed down on a single page, if one really tried hard. They fought, they ate, they slept and they built families.

This made Rui’s job easier, had it been a highly complex and sophisticated language of the Panama Continent, Rui didn’t think that he would have agreed to the mission if they had insisted on learning the language. However, its simplicity managed to compel him.

“You have a meeting with Martial commissioner Derun soon if I’m not wrong,” Carl mentioned to him once the Vilun dialect learning session came to an end.

“Indeed,” Rui sighed.

The two chatted informally for a bit. They had grown more familiar with each other and had dispensed with formalities as they focused on preparing Rui as much as possible for the diplomatic mission.

Rui simply headed for Martial commissioner Derun’s office when the time for the appointment came.

“Squire Quarrier, you’re here right on time,” She smiled as Rui walked in.

“Hello, Martial commissioner,” Rui walked in.

“Please, have a seat,” She waved at it. “I’ve heard your training and briefing program has been going quite well.”

“I’m just doing my best,” Rui modestly offered.

“And yet Carl has informed me that at the rate that you’re growing, you will achieve the desired results within a third of the total projected time,” She smiled.

“Part of it has to do with the fact that the Mind Palace technique has allowed me to memorize all the data that would otherwise have to be painstakingly studied,” Rui shrugged. “Still, it is optimistic nonetheless, I suppose.”

“Indeed,” She nodded. “I called you here today to finalize your team. I figured you ought to know.”

“I thought that had already been decided,” Rui raised an eyebrow.

“Not officially, no,” She shook her head as she pulled out a document from her desk, handing it to Rui.

“Much of your team are diplomatic assistants and employees who partook in the previous diplomatic endeavors with the G’ak’arkan Tribe. Including, of course…” She gave another document.

“Senior Ceeran…” Rui muttered as he opened the document, detailing the profile of the man.

“I heard you may have had some apprehensions with Senior Ceeran,” She mentioned. “I wanted to hear your thoughts from you personally.”

“I have had a decent dynamic with Senior Ceeran, though I do not possess any working relations with him at the moment. He evaluated my technique and was quite pleased by it, and we got along well enough thanks to that. It’s truly nothing special,” Rui clarified. “I did have some concerns. I understand that a long-range Martial Artist is needed to demonstrate techniques, after all, the G’ak’arkan Tribe is not going to take us at our word for this matter. However…”

“You can speak freely,” She said, noticing a hint of hesitation from him.

“I am fearful of the impact Senior Ceeran can have on the mission,” Rui sighed. “He is a prestigious Martial Senior, I can easily see him becoming the spiritual leader of the diplomatic mission and hijacking my position as the lead diplomat due to this. I also fear for him triggering a conflict with the leaders of the G’ak’arkan Tribe due to his extreme pride in his techniques and the techniques of his Martial Sect. I have gone through the transcripts of his interactions with the chieftain, and let’s just say they are not the most reassuring.”

“Your concerns are very valid,” Martial commissioner Derun nodded. “However, you can rest assured. Senior Ceeran has taken responsibility for his failures as a diplomat and has fully conceded the role. He has also, in writing, guaranteed his cooperation with an assisting role.”

Rui’s skeptical expression revealed that he did not find her reassurances very reassuring.