Ludwik approached his boss' office, knocking on the door and waiting for a response. The words "Editor-In-Chief, Lukasz Sobieski" were bolded on a plaque placed on the door. Ludwik looked around the environment as he waited patiently. After a short while, he sees the knob turn, Sobieski opening the door to him. I truly hope I've done nothing wrong. 

"Ah, Mr. Bryston. So glad to see you," he said in a more cheerful tone than Ludwik was expecting. The older man suddenly closed his hand and made a fist, striking his left hand against his chest as his right stayed straight at his side. "Praise Lipinski." 

Ludwik quickly did the same in return. "Praise Lipinski." He said it in a more casual tone than Sobieski did. It was far more instinctual for him. Those two words and that very salute were branded into his head and millions of Yorgish people. Forced to memorize and repeat many phrases such as this for the sake of state unity and loyalty to the party. It made Ludwik sick inside. 

"Come on in, have a seat," Sobieski gestured. "We have a lot to discuss." Ludwik entered Sobieski's office, taking note of the contents within it. He had not seen the office too often before. The last time he remembered setting foot into it was when he applied for a job as a reporter. The large bookshelf was still there, filled with various novels, fiction and nonfiction, a few of which were written by Sobieski himself. Before he was the editor-in-chief of Ya Vazde, Sobieski was both an editor and a part-time author. Ludwik was familiar with some of his works, though he avoided reading the ones on the rise of the Worsata Regime and the Third Leonese war, given his boss' obvious bias towards the Sotelonists and Manajists. He much preferred Sobieski's book on the history of cinema, which highlighted the achievements of foreign cinema, exploring films from Freedonia, Gabosloza, Bahido, and Derrsia. He even wrote about Hiyaran cinema, a feat few writers in Yorgáryn have accomplished. 

Ludwik also noticed various posters on the office walls. There was one that showed two houses, one stable and one crooked. The crooked house was meant to portray the Fourth Republic, built upon the shaky foundations of rocks with words such as anti-militarism, laziness, demagogy, Berkuvism, and more labeled on them. Contrasting the crooked house was the structurally sound and stable house representing the Worsata Regime, beautiful in comparison, upon the more firm foundations of labor, family and nation. It was blatant propaganda that Ludwik could not stand, propaganda that people like Sobieski were all too happy to administer, and believe in. 

Another poster portrayed an image of an instantly recognizable face. It was that of Zenon Harkovich Lipinski, the dictator, or "chancellor" as he was referred to, of Yorgáryn. He was stern, strong, his chin extended out in a confident manner while dressed in a soldier uniform. The words below the image read out, "May Yorgáryn and the Chancellor prosper!" Ludwik could not count the number of times he had seen Lipinski's face, whether it was on a poster, graffiti street art, in a newspaper column, or during his speeches on television. It gave Ludwik the feeling that Lipinski was everywhere, no matter how hard he tried to avoid him. 

Ludwik took a seat in the empty chair provided, slightly anxious, while his boss sat across him from his fine desk, neatly organized with papers, a stapler, pencils, and other items. Sobieski was a man in his late thirties, wearing a black suit and white button-up shirt with a plaid tie. His dark brown hair was neatly combed to the left. He had an upturned nose, and a pair of small round glasses, slightly similar to Zofia's, but with plastic black frames. Sobieski glared at the reporter. 

"Stop looking so uncomfortable, Mr. Bryston. You look as if you're at a funeral," he joked, cracking a crooked smile. Ludwik tried to change his attitude. 

"Oh, uh, my apologies, sir."

Sobieski reassured the young reporter. "You have done nothing wrong." He smiled again. "If anything, you should be getting your spirits up. I wanted to discuss some good news with you." 

That's a relief. But what is he talking about? "What news? Like a promotion?" Maybe nothing like that, but it's worth asking. 

The editor in chief chuckled at the question. "No, not that good. But it might get you a lot of attention, if you choose to accept." He paused briefly and got out of his seat, and began to slowly walk around his office as he spoke, his hands behind his back. "As you might know, the vice minister of Hiyara announced that the crown prince Tanimoto Jisabúro, and princess Tanimoto Kimoko, would be touring the Midwestern Continent. There may also be a guest from the Kamukura clan traveling with them. Their first destination will be Yorgáryn." 

"The crown prince himself?", Ludwik asked, surprised. The heir to their emperor is coming? That is interesting. "I didn't know about that." 

"Well, it's true," Sobieski continued. "And this is a rare occasion, not only for us, but for them. Did you know that the Hiyaran Imperial Family has rarely set foot on Midwestern soil?" 

"No. Where are you going with this, sir?" 

"They will be staying at the Hiyaran Embassy in Tarnozow for the starting portion of their trip. And there will be a lot of publicity awaiting their arrival. Who knows? Maybe a parade or two, or even a meeting with Lipinski himself." Sobieski thought about how to put it briefly. "What I'm trying to say is that I want Ya Vezde to get a personal interview with the royals. I was wondering if you would want to be in charge of this assignment, Bryston." 

"M-Me?", he stuttered. Ludwik was shocked, wondering how his boss thought he was good enough for the job. But… Zofia looked so excited for this story… she knows more about Hiyara than I do… wouldn't she seem like the better choice? He felt a sting of guilt inside of him. 

"Yes, you. Do I need to repeat myself?" 

"Well, sir, it's just that I… I do not know too much about them. The last thing I would want to do is to look ignorant in front of them," Ludwik admitted. I would hate to accidentally insult them by making a rude assumption about their culture. 

Sobieski understood what he meant. In response, he began searching through his bookshelf, taking out a few books here and there and placing it on his desk. Ludwik watched in confusion as his boss continued to compile the books together. He then placed them into a blue cotton bag, and handed it over to the reporter. 

"I figured you would have said something along the lines of that," Sobieski explained. "Read or skim through these books. I suggest you read the benchmarked pages first, because that's the important stuff: their history, their mannerisms, their imperial family and culture. These translated Hiyaran works should give you more than enough of a clue of what they're like. Also, no need to worry about a language barrier. You'll be provided with a translator for Jisabúro. Though, from what I've heard, Princess Kimiko speaks our tongue, so no need to fret over her." 

Ludwik took a look inside of the bag, the first book he sees titled, 'The Empire Of The Rising Sun'. It's a good thing I don't need to read the entirety of all these books. I suppose this would help a lot. "Thank you, sir." Should I raise my concerns about this? Should I say something about Zofia? Ludwik tried to say something, but he found himself freezing up without realizing it. 

His boss seemed to notice it. "What? Is there something wrong?" After getting no response from Ludwik, Sobieski began to get annoyed. "Speak up, boy, or get out. I don't have all day." 

"Wouldn't Zofia seem like the better choice for this interview?", the reporter blurted out. There, I said it. 

Sobieski gave him a look mixed between disappointment and tiredness, sighing and taking a deep breath in and out, before sitting down at his desk once more. He looked Ludwik directly in the eyes, hands folded. 

"So that's what this is about," he said nonchalantly. 

Ludwik was unsure of what to say. He had no intention of trying to offend the man, so he tried to explain himself as best he could. "She wants to work on this column. She would probably be more prepared for this than I would, sir." 

Sobieski was about to reply, but stopped before he could speak, almost as if he were thinking of something else to say. A few seconds of awkward silence passed before he responded. "Yes, yes, Zofia is a very talented journalist. I know she wants to work on this story. She's told me many times before." He unfolded his hands. "The thing I like most about her, is that she never lets anyone get in the way of what she wants. She will get to the truth even if it puts her in harm's way. And she does not let go easily." 

"However…?", Ludwik asked. At least he takes Zofia seriously. That's good. 

Sobieski sighed again, not wanting to get his point across the wrong way. He stood up again. "Zofia is far better at getting secrets out of people than leaving a positive impression on them. I take it you've heard of her reputation around the workplace. She's a great writer, without a doubt, but I wouldn't want to give a poor impression of the largest news source in the city to the royals." 

He briefly looked at a photograph of himself standing near a Hiyaran temple on his wall. "Besides, I wouldn't want to do anything that would… sour my relations with the Hiyaran people. I vacation there during winter. You," he pointed to the reporter, "...on the other hand, are more pleasant to interview with. I've read your previous interviews with the city council and the mayor, Bryston. You got the information you needed, and you didn't make an effort to argue or near harass them. That's also another issue Zofia has…" Sobieski didn't go further with that last point. 

"So you want me to do it because… I'm more likable?" 

Sobieski nodded. "Not only that, but you are quick to learn and adapt. If you memorize these books and read them carefully, I'm sure you will be prepared for the interview. And I do plan on going back on my decision. I expect a hardworking newcomer such as yourself will have no problem writing a great column for the paper. It may even make the front page, who knows?" 

It could be a big story for me, he's right. Then again, I want to be sure I know what I'm getting into before I agree. I also can't help but feel a little bad… I wonder how Zofia would react if I took the story. "Is there anything else you'd suggest I do? Any specific questions you want me to ask? When is the interview happening, anyway?" 

"Around three weeks from today, I believe," Sobieski clarified. "The official time has yet to be decided on, but I'm sure we'll be aware of it at least a week before. Prepare for a long interview. I'd suggest you focus on what the crown prince thinks. What does he think about Yorgáryn? Is he enjoying his stay? Ask me question suggestions if you feel uncertain." He paused to think for a few moments. "I don't mind if you ask Zofia to help prepare you for the interview. As long as she doesn't set foot in the room during the discussion. Understood?" 

After some inner debating with himself, Ludwik decided that it would likely be better to accept the story than argue with Sobieski. I just hope Zofia understands. I'm sure there will be plenty of other stories for her to report on. "Yes, sir. Thank you." 

Sobieski cracked a smile. "You're most welcome, dear boy. Now, get back to work. I have an important call I need to make." He reached out his hand to shake Ludwik's. "Glory to the Motherland." 

The reporter reluctantly shaked his hand back, noting his boss' gentle grip. "Glory to the Motherland."