Zhuravlev Family/Guimoiun/The Consistently Jank Life of Guimoiun

This chronicle contains the stories of Guimoiun Zhuravlev as told by Roleplay Messages.

6/5/2012

The election results ought to have come in several days ago, but Guimoiun had not heard anything. He expected that he'd won, on account of his being the only one running, and so he began working on a new bulletin as per his original plans.

"... will be reimbursed for any taxes levied against them by the banker for any transactions that ..."

He stopped in mid-sentence, because there had been a knock at the door of his study. Guimoiun put down his quill, adjusted his robes, and answered.

"Lord Guimoiun?"

The scribe was wearing the insignia of the Supreme Chancellor, and Guimoiun figured that the man must have something to say about the end of the election.

"Baron, actually, or possibly Chancellor, if that's what you're here about."

"Well, yes, it is, actually..." mumbled the servant before trailing off. He seemed quite uncomfortable with either Guimoiun or with the news he was delivering.

"Well, let's have it, then!" said Guimoiun, a smile spreading across his face.

"Well, sir, the election ended, as I'm sure you know, and you were the only one running, as I'm sure you know, and -"

"And excellent!" said Guimoiun. He reached into his pocket, looking to pay the man a tip for his fortune of delivering such good news.

"Well, sir, no. Not excellent. Not at all excellent." The man's face fell as he saw Guimoiun take his hand out of his pocket completely empty. "You see, sir, although you won the position and title, according to the laws set down ages ago at Strombran's founding-"

"Four months ago."

"What?"

"Strombran was founded four months ago."

"No, sir, not the realm. The city."

"Oh."

"Well, according to the ancient laws passed down through the generations before us, a officer of the ruling court cannot begin their work in their new capacity until they have been formally acknowledged in person by the current ruler, whomever it may be."

"Well, return to the Supreme Chancellor at once, and we'll take care of it. I know for a fact that he wants me in this position. He said it himself."

"Well, you see, sir, that's why I'm here. The Supreme Chancellor is unable to accommodate such a ceremony into his schedule. He has been swamped with diplomatic issues of great importance."

"Like what?"

"It's not my place to know the Chancellor's everyday comings and goings, but most recently, the Chancellor has been attending day-long meetings with a delegation from Minas Ithil on the subject of pancakes."

"Pancakes?"

Guimoiun was extremely confused. What did the Chancellor have anything to do with Minas Ithil or pancakes?

"Yes, sir, pancakes. Pancakes were banned long ago in Minas Ithil, and the subject has recently come up again for debate. Chancellor Luthor is an expert on the uses of pancakes, both medicinal and recreational, and so delegations from both sides of the debate have travelled here, seeking his counsel. "

"So, let me get this straight: I am the Chancellor of the Interior, but cannot perform any of the duties as such until I have met with Luthor, who is currently dealing with pancakes?"

"Not so simply, sir. The Chancellor is doing many other things as well, not just dealing with pancakes. He's a very busy man."

"Clearly. So, what can I do in the meantime."

"Well, sir, I am happy to report that you have a right to the title Chancellor of the Interior, and can be addressed as such. However, any correspondence addressed to such will be sent to Margrave Cadelius, the previous Chancellor of the Interior."

"So, I can't do anything."

"Nothing other than wait, sir, I'm sorry."

"Very well. Thank you."

The scribe left, and Guimoiun sat back down at his desk. He looked at the bulletin he'd been working on, stashed it away, and soon enough fell asleep in his chair, dreaming of pancakes.