And Kors looked intently at Igmer, who, watching him, perfectly caught this look and smiled again with the edges of his lips, but a little stronger.
“And I also think,” with an effort, but continued Kors, “that now it will not be a war, but politics, and I understand politics, and therefore it is necessary to write as many more leaflets as possible about independence and the sale of diamonds. And let Tol’s artist draw pictures for commoners, draw as he can intelligibly: an ugly fat red from the Upper World and poor miners who give him diamonds, and their thin emaciated children in rags are standing nearby and crying!”
Igmer chuckled, shaking his head.
“There is a printing house in Ore town. It can print flyers, newspapers and orders. There are artists there too.”
“It is wonderful!” Kors didn’t give up. “It is necessary to outline the basic rules of the new order, prescribe punishments and fines, and also hang them all over the city. And hang a couple of dissenters in the square. I also consider it necessary to introduce a curfew.”
“Yes,” said Lis.
“Then get to work! And let's gather in the main hall of the palace in two hours for a final discussion. By this time, I will try to sketch out some basic theses.”
“The palace has a special conference room for such events,” said Igmer.
“Do I have to attend?” Zaf asked somehow without much enthusiasm.
“Yes!”
“No.”
Kors and Nikto spoke simultaneously, and Zaf froze, not knowing what to do now.
“I’ll give them everything they need,” Nik said. “They are warriors, not politicians.”
“And me too,” Lis said barely audibly, somehow sadly, but no one paid attention to his words.
“Okay, Nik, after all, they’re under your command, do as you see fit,” said Kors. “I don’t mind at all.”
“I, too, will not embarrass your commanding staff with my presence at the meeting,” said Igmer, “I am still a stranger to them. Will Zagpeace Gesaria be there?”
“Yes.”
“I’d better start mailing letters and visit the head of the purple house in person.”
Igmer went to the table and took a sheet of paper, wrote something on it:
“Here is the address of the printing house,” he handed the sheet to Kors, “Ore town is big, but I hope your people will not get lost, after all, this is a city, not swamps.”
And Kors, swallowing the mockery, silently took the sheet.