"Firstly," said Kemawari, the majordomo for whom the word 'dour' was invented, "You shall not speak unless spoken to. Any interruption is grounds for censure or expulsion from the room. Secondly, you shall not have a chance to leave the room while the the meeting is going. Thirdly, you are to pay attention to the speaker's words at all times. Any nodding of the head, twiddling of the thumbs, or fidgeting will bring attention to yourself and thus bring low both the speaker and yourself. Fourtly and finally, on the rare occasion when you are requested to speak, you shall be modest and circumspect with your words, only providing information and not analysis. You are here at our lords' mutual pleasure, and you are only in this room at the pleasure of mine. I run a tight manse, and I will suffer no breach of protocol by anyone, especially not during meetings that will decide the fate of thousands. I hope that you understand."
"I understand and appreciate the time that you are taking to teach an unknowing servant such as myself" was about the only reply we could make.
As Kemawari spoke, servants were carrying in the tables and mobile daises for the Utani lords as well as pillows for everyone. They also strung up square cloth crests on wooden frames, the stylized cormorant in Utani silver and the moths, cypress, and wintersweet in Ginga green. There were nine seats upon each dais, which would be occupied by the heads of fief and their most senior lords. Sixteen seats were in front of the Ginga dais and twelve in front of the Utani. We pages were in less conspicuous positions, each of us set to either side of the dais with little tables like those of the great lords.
The delegations began to file in and settle into their positions. The silence was tactile - only the sutto-sutto of robes and a spare cough. Despite our fiefs' general goodwill, it was generally held that when any two people who were unfamiliar were in a room together on official business, no one should speak without impetus. A few wars had been started that way.
After everybody had found their place, Lord Kemawari bashed a cedar block with a hollow one, making bright pon-pon-pons all through the hall and probably well into the outside passages. He marked the beginning of the meeting with a hoarse "Alright. May we begin."
... was I supposed to copy that? I hate being instructed on absurdly fine points of things and then immediately coming up with exceptions when it came time to practice them. I did it anyway, just to be thorough.
Lord Ginga went first. I could not see him from my vantage, but he sounded clear and just sincere enough, a step up from the banquet. "If I may begin by being frank, Sir Utani, when I was young I often heard from my late and honorable father that you were a lord of business, not one of ceremony. If it would please you, may we dispense with the pleasantries and begin straight away?"
A bit of the practiced tension left Lord Utani's face. This must have been like receiving a cloak and realizing that it needed no adjustment.
"Your late and honorable father taught you well, Sir Ginga, and I am pleased that you have taken me into your consideration. That said, let us begin. Sir Suginaga, would you please read off the list of raids from along our western border?"
After Lord Suginaga finished, his counterpart, a hardly-shaved man with the voice of a bear, read off the raids from the Ginga borders, which I could not help but notice was three times the length of ours. The meeting plodded along for the rest of the night, but I suppose that we each had to get acquainted with all that's happened since we were last here.
As I copied, watching ink spray in spots and spatters across the page, I began to wonder if my sloppy handwriting was up to the task.
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