Much of Gilbert’s life had been spent caring very little for the intricacies of diplomacy and interaction with his fellow nations. Deception, intrigues, manipulation? Of course he tried his hand at it all and had stabbed many in the back, but he’d always lacked a certain understanding for nuance. Everything had always seemed so straightforward to him that by the time he’d stood on Europe’s political stage with still shaky legs, he had acquired a rather unflattering reputation. And he’d been fine with that, hadn’t thought that he would have to change; he always knew how to get his way in the end. Rather a boor than one of these perfumed popinjays.
Gilbert liked to think that it had been age and the subsequent maturity that had changed his mind, not the realization that his foreign policy was in shambles and that maybe swinging his sword around a lot was not enough anymore to get respect. There was a certain entertainment found in it now, in the little bits that determined the confusing course of European politics, even if sometimes it was still a nebulous affair that he could only navigate if he treated it like a particularly bothersome play of chess. Or like those games children played, strings of yarn wound around their fingers attempting to form shapes, and each pull changed its appearance. People could be like that too. And you just had to know the right patterns to make them bend.
Like today, he had given great attention to his wardrobe. A suit may be most appropriate for the occasion, yet that would indicate that he was a lot more willing to make concessions than he actually was. And when it came to uniforms, well… A navy uniform would have been to his liking, Arthur deserved a little provocation for how smug he always acted, as if he were anything more than a bloated arrogant idiot who was long overdue for a little reality check. …But Gilbert was supposed to deescalate the situation so. No. Today he’d be a cuirassier, an homage to Bismarck to show that he was willing to extend some of his goodwill even to those wholly undeserving of it.
He was starting to regret this as soon as his unwelcome guest opened his mouth. Arthur could barely get out a proper greeting before he started yapping like a very badly trained and annoying dog, ready to tear up the furniture. Would Gilbert have to fear that he’d piss on his carpet now?
“I’m impressed” he said without any trace of humor, “it hasn’t been five minutes yet, has it, and you have already insulted both Prussia and Germany. Here we are told the English are gentlemen, and you speak as though it would kill you to let even a single polite word cross your lips. Is that why you always look like you bit into a lemon?”
Gilbert scrutinized his conversational partner, pausing purposefully as he leisurely leaned back in his seat. Relaxed and open posture, unthreatening, because he would never give England the satisfaction of believing Prussia needed to intimidate to be in control of a situation. “I can put your concerns to rest and assure you that you are not speaking to somebody of secondary influence and therefore no insult to your person nor nation has occured. Germany and I hold the same position within the government, foreign as the thought may be to you, so us meeting is a matter of practicality only, and we may discuss matters as equal partners.”
There, he’d pulled a string. And now he’d see what kind of shape Arthur would take.
Arthur frowned in distaste, though more at the simple fact that his manner was being criticized by an outsider. It was hardly the first time his poor way of conducting diplomacy had been pointed out to him, but if he could barely take it from his own government officials and diplomats, he was not about to welcome it from this conservative brute.
Forced to shut his mouth up for a moment, then. Unfortunately for all those who spoke to him, the effect rarely lasted long.
“I see,” Arthur began dryly, “Then I should apologize for my haste in making assumptions about your... political structure.” But he would not. Simple.
He was no warmonger, and yet he was far from the example of diplomacy he was told he should be. His preferred approach was to keep himself out of Continental affairs, until the time came for him to tip the scale towards whatever outcome would be most favourable for him, or would serve to protect the interests of his precious empire. Alas, it was not a viable approach when his German neighbours thought it wise to extend a direct threat in the form of ship-building.
“Let us try this again, yes? You have lived longer, and I feel confident you should be reasonable,” Arthur continued, “It is in both our interests’ for our nations to maintain open, honest relations, as our previous diplomats knew,” he wondered briefly if he should mention Bismarck, before thinking better of it. It would be much like Gilbert to take it as an act of condescension. “I am afraid, however, that the ship-building cannot continue unchecked — it is a threat not only to our nation but the world’s current balance. Nothing good can come of it, but I am sure you know this, otherwise we would not be sitting here.”
