http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/girl-baobab-trees/

Morning had so far failed to burn off the thick mist that frequented the Shallows. In every direction, as far as he could see, there was no break in the scenery. Shallow water reflected the sun in the spaces between thick green vegetation. Fish and turtles broke the surface with regularity, and he wondered if it was with curiosity at his canoe easing through their home.

The Messenger paddled slowly, in no particular hurry. He had been charged to make the trip with all due haste and return promptly with the Green Lord’s reply. But he was pretty sure he knew what reply the Green Lord would send back, and no one at court would blame him if a two week trip took three. Mostly because no one else would want to make the trip in his place.

Eventually, the predictability of the surroundings failed. Dark figures loomed in the distance to his left. The Messenger turned the canoe and swished his way toward them. It wasn’t long before they revealed themselves as the great Baobob trees. They marked the edge of the human realm and the start of the Green Lord’s.

As he paddled closer he noticed a splash of yellow among the green. His counterpart for today’s negotiations, no doubt. He bobbed to a relative stop and checked that his high boots were well-laced. Then he stepped over the edge, landed with a soft splash, and trudged forward.

“Morning,” the guard said. She was a young woman, perhaps half the Messenger’s age.

“Honorable Envoy of the Green Lord, I am the Messenger of The Most Revered and Awesome Emperor Akinatyn. I have been sent to treat with the Green Lord on matters of state of the utmost sensitivity and import,” the Messenger said just as he shifted his weight in the muck, causing a loud and flatulent sound. It really took the sting out of his formalities. “That was the muck,” he said, lamely.

“Yes, it will do that.”

“As I was saying, I, uh…” the Messenger attempted to restart his recitation, but his flow had been irrevocably broken. “What was I saying?”

“Matters of state.”

“Yes, matters of state most pressing. I’ve been entrusted with – Ack!” The Messenger leapt in the air, water splashing. “Something’s in the water!”

“Fish?” the young woman asked with as little irony as she could muster, which in the end was still a lot.

“Could be anything.” The Messenger scanned the water, eyes wide. Then an orange-and-blue fish head popped out of the water near his feet. It gave him a disapproving eye, he thought, before vanishing back beneath the surface.

“Like a fish.”

“Yes. Well. Bound to happen.” The Messenger did his best to salvage some dignity. “Might there be somewhere less moist we could talk?”

“I cannot leave my post.”

“Your post?”

“I’m on guard duty,” she explained.

“You’re a guard?”

“I am.”

“Younger than I’d expect of a guard,” the Messenger said. Then he added, “Also, no weapons.”

She shrugged. “If you say so.”

“So we have to do this here?” he ventured one last time.

“Afraid so. Orders, you know.”

The Messenger nodded glumly. Orders were something he knew well. “Well do you have a nip of something to offer? My wine skin met with an unfortunate accident earlier in my journey.” He adjusted his feet again, fighting a constant battle against sinking into the soft earth beneath the water.

“The Green Lord isn’t much for alcohol.”

“So no wine?”

“Or beer. Or booze, for that matter,” the guard said.

“Oh boy. We’re making a real hash of it, aren’t we?”

For a long moment, the guard just looked at him. Her arms were tucked into her yellow frock. She looked nothing like a guard. But the Messenger had been all around the world in service to the Emperor. He knew the reputation of the Green Lord and those that served him. He knew it prudent to remain wary.

“Let’s just get on with it,” the Messenger said. “I’ve been asked to deliver one final entreaty for your master.”

“We have no masters here.”

“Your king then.”

She shook her head. “We killed our kings.”

“Of course. For your… well, hang on. How is his name the Green Lord is he does not rule you?”

“His name is not the Green Lord. Humans call him that. In our realm, we have names only, no titles.” The guard was well-spoken and calm, and the Messenger realized she hadn’t moved once since he’d arrived. How was she not sinking? He had to adjust his feet yet again.

“But he speaks for you.”

“When necessary.”

“But you’re here to speak for him, which makes- you know what? No. We’re not going down that road,” the Messenger waved his arms, realizing he’d thoroughly lost control of the situation. “I’ve been asked to seek the Green Lord’s reply to parlay with The Emperor of the Human Realm, His Radiance Akinatyn.”

“He might have one. What does your guy want to talk about? Fish, perhaps?”

“That’s not funny.” The Messenger looked down with distrust at the opaque water of the Shallows.

The guard smiled. “It is a little bit.”

“His Eloquence would like to discuss terms of a land exchange, as the Green Lord well knows.”

“That’s a nice way of saying the humans want our land.”

“But you’re a human.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I am?”

“Two arms, two legs, hair, face. You look pretty human to me.”

“Is that the same thing?”

With a sigh, the Messenger rubbed his hand over his face. The mist clung to his skin, and he was beginning to feel stick all over. The sooner he could wrap this up, the sooner he could get back in his canoe and away from this miserable outpost.

“It is not necessarily a discussion of ceding land. It’s more of a swap.”

“We like the land we have. So we’ll pass.”

“You speak for the Green Lord in this matter?”

She nodded. “I do.”

“Then I’m instructed to alert your- to alert the Green Lord that the Emperor is prepared to take the land if an amicable agreement of exchange cannot be established.”

The guard laughed, and still she did not move. “So it’s a discussion to cede land, or war to destroy it?”

“The Emperor must, I would think, have plans for this stretch of…” The Messenger scrunched his face in disgust and attempted to come up with a description both accurate and inoffensive. “Damp misery.” No such luck.

“He must,” the guard nodded in agreement. “Still, we like it and will keep it to ourselves, if it’s all the same to the Emperor.”

“It is not.”

“It’s submission and land lost, or it’s war.” The guard spread her arms in invitation. “We’ll take our chances. Tell your army where to find me.”

“You’re willing to do this in the traditional way?” The Messenger was surprised at this display of classical diplomacy. “How sporting. You’ll muster your forces here?”

“They are mustered.”

“But it’s just you.”

The guard folded her arms once more, hands vanished back into yellow folds.

“I am at my post and await the Emperor’s arrival at the head of his army.”

“I don’t think you understand.” The Messenger was beside himself. “I’m not kidding. He’s fed up. If I go back with this answer, he’s coming here with an army that’ll drink the Shallows dry. They’ll build forts in the Baobobs. They’ll for sure spear every last slimy, scaly, piscine pest from one horizon to the other. If it’s war, it’s truly war, army against army.

“I understand,” the guard said impatiently. “I shall remain at my post.”

“You’re alone. There’s nothing here but you and trees!”

The guard smiled and nodded. It gave the Messenger a deep chill even before she spoke her final reply. “Are those the same thing?”