Kalmar Torek had been working in the fields for hours. He was happy to see the arrival another monk even if he was running right through the already planted furrows. He also was disturbing the milk cows.
The simple life wasn't always simple.
"Brother Torek!" the monk called. "We have learned many diplomats from other worlds will be coming here. I was told to let you know right away."
Kalmar handed him the hoe. "Yes, otherwise there would be no supper for you. Do finish up for me, will you? I must attend to this."
Kalmar walked at a rapid pace back to the monastery, bathed and changed into a clean habit. When he emerged, he summoned his assistant. It hadn't taken Kalmar long to establish himself as the leading authority at the monastery. Brother Pike, an older monk, had settled into the role of adviser.
The two sipped cups of Logacia and talked. "I know you have wanted to become in closer contact with the authority on this world," Pike said. "This could be a good time for it."
"Yes, many diplomats arriving opens many doors for us," Kalmar said. "I believe I should introduce myself to the Commodore. It has been too long."
"Too long that we have not met him?" Pike asked.
"Too long that we have not caused him trouble," Kalmar responded ignoring Pike's shocked look. "Have the cart prepared, please."
Fifteen minutes later Kalmar was driving the donkey cart, the first step in arrival at Commodore Hunter's office. The cart wasn't a peasant's vehicle. It was softly cushioned and powered by a computerized donkey. In fact, this donkey went faster than 21st century automobiles. If Kalmar's hair had been longer, it would have flown in the breeze.
It took a number of tries and a number of hours for the monk to eventually reach the outer door of Commodore Hunter's office.
"I am Friar Kalmar Torek," the monk said. "I bring greetings from the local monastery and wish to speak to the Commodore. I wish to offer the services of the monastery as I have come to understand many out-of-town guests are due to arrive."
Kalmar handed the officer a bottle of monk-made wine and jam.
"Two gifts from us," he said.
"One moment," the officer said. "I'll see if the Commodore has time to see you."
"I shall wait," Kalmar said, taking a seat on the floor and sitting Indian-style in the middle of the room.
The officer tried not to roll her eyes at this latest development. "Yes, thank you," she said.
She got up and disappeared into the Commodore's office.
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