NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is the formal signing of a peace treaty between Glorious Humanity and the Federated Klatchian Coast, concluding negotiations begun in Peaceful Country. (http://s7.invisionfree.com/KIST/index.php?showtopic=34) Before we begin, Alcona has suggested some rules be put in place.

1. This thread is Glorious Humanity and FKC states only. All others must ask and be approved.

2. Naturally, the consent rule applies, and no hijacking characters. This should go without saying, but people are people are people.

3. All OOC arguments should go in the OOC topic which should be up shortly.

Okay, let us begin. Once upon a time...

IC:

VIP transport en route to Caddray Island

“Attention passengers this is the pilot. Central Klatch just handed us off to Black River and we are beginning our final approach. Please ensure that all personal belongings are secure and make sure your seatbelts are fastened. I might feel the urge to do a little showing off.”

Minister Frank Pierce of International Relations immediately hit the button next to his seat that allowed him to communicate with the cockpit. “Your ass if you do, jet jockey.”

“No worries Minister, I don’t want barf on your suit any more than you do,” The pilot replied gaily.

Oloc for sure, Georgia Lancaster thought, seated across from the Minister. The people from the Oloc province of Glorious Humanity had a deserved reputation as daredevils. The Air Force got a lot of recruits there.

The VIP section of the transport was lushly furnished, with leather upholstered chairs for up to five, a small table, a refrigerator with some snack items, and deep blue carpeting on the floor. Two of the chairs were unfilled, due to there being only three diplomats on this trip. President Albert had decided not to come, due to an argument with Colonel Robert Bloom, the commander of the President’s Guard. If the leader of the country had gone, Bloom had wanted the entire President’s Guard to go too, and the only way to whittle these numbers down to something manageable had been for Albert not to attend. The President’s concession had cut the number of guards down to only twenty total, a number that Pierce approved of. “We’re negotiating peace, not invading them, we don’t need a bloody army,” had been his exact words.

Having ensured that there would be no devil daring, Pierce turned back to the small group in the VIP part of the cabin. In addition to Pierce himself and Lancaster, Deputy Minister of International Relations Lacey Millhouse was coming along, to create a solid group to negotiate with the FKC. Or so they said, Lancaster was distinctly aware that as the diplomat with the most FKC experience she was going to be the one doing the most talking. Actually, she was looking forward to it.

“Alright,” Pierce began. “Our goal here is to create peace between Glorious Humanity and the Federated Klatchian Coast. And ONLY between Glorious Humanity and the Federated Klatchian Coast. We have no control of Drakonia, Menelmacar, or the United Emirates as a whole, and we cannot accept any terms that ask for a change in the behavior of our allies. Keep the point clear at all times that we have no control of what our allies may or may not do. Let’s not get backed into a political corner.” He paused to check over the blue satin blazer and matching pants that he was wearing. Minister Pierce looked like a career politician from head to toe, clean shaven with his black hair slicked back and the beginnings of the paunch that creeps up on many men in the middle of their life. He was valiantly struggling against this with a diet and regular exercise, but Lancaster could see he was slowly losing.

“I’ll say the same thing I said before,” Lancaster replied. “If they ask for something from an ally, or say something, I will say that we will pass it on, but that we can’t do anything about it ourselves.” Lancaster was dressed in what she referred to as her “formal outfit”, a green silk dress that went from her neck in an unbroken wave to her ankles. As usual, the dress was conservatively cut, with a small dip in the back and barely any in front. Her blonde hair was allowed to hang loose today, and there were small diamond studs in her ears. A very light makeup job and small spike heels on her feet completed the look.

“That I would think is the best we can say,” Deputy Minister Millhouse nodded. Lacey Millhouse was more of a traditional female diplomat, with curly red hair that she put a lot of effort into styling. Today it was loose like Lancaster’s, and tumbled down her back in a red wave. She wore a blue blouse and short skirt, a businesslike outfit that was still very pointedly female, and heels on her feet. Her green eyes were set behind a pair of expensive glasses and she moved a little stiffly, her recovery from the car bomb blast that had nearly claimed her life not quite finished. Very few people had not been injured in some way, mental or physical, by the Psi Revolt.

“Indeed,” Pierce agreed. Then the three of them began a serious discussion of what exactly they would say, what points they wanted, what concessions they could make, and other diplomacy minutiae.


In the guard cabin

Behind the VIP section was the cabin for the guards, arranged like a standard passenger airplane with seats in rows and a central aisle. Seated in the front of the cabin, Captain Christopher Ames was staring straight ahead without seeing anything, thinking about what he was here to do. This time around hiding his identity was completely pointless, and thus he was dressed in the formal black uniform of the President’s Guard, with the Glorious Humanity flag on his right shoulder, his rank on his left, and his name accompanied by the silver emblem of the President’s Guard, two swords crossed over a shield, over the breast pocket. On his hip was a holstered Glock 18 semiautomatic, the standard sidearm of the Guard. This was a victory for the diplomats, who had convinced Colonel Bloom that since it was an honor guard, a full rifle and combat uniform loadout was unnecessary, and succeeded in convincing him to only issue sidearms for regular carry. The heavier firepower was still stowed away in the cargo area of the plane though, just in case. Ames grinned to himself, imagining what kind of argument had been made to get Bloom to relent. The commander of the President’s Guard had lately been very overprotective of the people he was charged to protect.

Then his thoughts shifted to the other thing he wanted to do here. Jenssen had said he would get his chance to see her homeland, and he couldn’t help but be a little apprehensive about that. How would she be here, surrounded by all the trappings of her normal life? How would she treat him? How would he react to her? He felt nervous, more nervous than he had even on his first day of training in the Army. Would he make a fool of himself, like he’d done the first time he’d tried to flatter her?

Firmly, he clamped down on his doubts, filing them away in the small locked room of his mind where such things were placed. He took a deep breath and looked around and behind him at the nineteen other members of the President’s Guard assigned to this mission. They were talking among themselves, a couple were dozing, and a few were reading. He would have command of at least a few of these people while they were guarding the diplomats. He had to get himself composed and ready to lead. He closed his eyes and steadied his mind as the plane began its final descent.

Caddray Island, southern most of the Outer Islands, rose out of the Dark Sea in the shape of a horseshoe. An emerald green horseshoe with black sand beaches on the north side, and a rocky southern coast.

The sky above was partly cloudy, big puffy white clouds that looked like cotton balls. The radar around the island showed a few commercial aircraft, the diplomatic jet, and four prowling fighters.

The Thule memorial airport sat in the low central mountains of Caddray. Alconians were a bit overly practical about things, which explained why there were several military aircraft that were parked about what was listed as a commercial airport.

As the diplomatic jet touched down, it ran past the small terminal, the few private aircraft and then several bunker hangers. Ground control, ordered G.H.-101 to taxi towards a heavy stone structure with several vehicles parked before it. The building appeared to be the emergency response center, The lower floor had 14 foot high doors in between dark stone buttresses. The upper floor had windows placed in the same manner.

A young man in a kaki uniform finished the taxing procedure with two red batons, directing the aircraft into her berth and to wind down the engines. As he did this a group of men in dark blue uniforms with red stripping appeared from out of the response center and formed a double line near the aircraft. Most of the men appeared to be carrying rifles and wearing berets, most of them green. Only the two in front were wearing a military style cap, white it appeared.

Four men in gray uniforms were standing next to an antique car and a mini-bus. They stood at attention, as well as the Marines, as the diplomats exited the aircraft. The youngest one of the four in gray, obviously an officer based on the tons of gold braid on his uniform, stepped forward and gave a short bow and then a salute.

"Senior Lieutenant Brooks, United Duchies Milita, Caddray Division, I am afraid that the formal welcome won't be until tomorrow, you've actually arrived before any of the Klatchian dignitaries. I have, well the only formal car in our inventory to take you to the Lake Point Manor. Your, protective detail can ride in the bus…"

Lieutenant Brooks looked to be about sixteen, with wide blue eyes, red hair peaking out from under his cap, and freckles. The five, eight frame seemed small for the uniform that looked like it came from a museum, or a musical. The whole assemblage seemed to give the air that no one would trust this kid to command a toilet brush, let alone armed men. Especially the men standing near the transportation, in their drab gray uniforms, who looked about three times as old as the officer. It was all likely perplexing.

The Alconian Marines looked like a group of human statues. The officers were standing with their swords up flat in salute. The men stared strait ahead waiting for the next order.

Lancaster appraised the kid as she recalled what she'd learned of Alconian customs. This young man could not be a real commander, that much was obvious. He had to be some kind of nobleman with an honorary rank. She held her hands clasped behind her back so the other two diplomats behind her could see her fingers move quickly.

Be formal, he's not just a soldier, her fingers said, then she unclasped her hands to grasp the hem of her dress and curtsied very gracefully, the motion looking as natural as though she really was an aristocrat back home. Millhouse and Pierce just bowed, since Millhouse's skirt was too short for a real curtsy. Again, both movements looked very natural.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Lancaster replied. "Please, lead on."

Behind the diplomats, the President's Guard detail formed up, each soldier marching out of the plane in perfect step with the ones ahead and behind, and moving to take their assigned places without a single command being issued. There was no extraneous movement, no further conversation or joking. They formed up in two rows of eight, with Ames and another man standing on the left and right sides of the main group. After everyone was out the other commander, Lieutenant Colonel Barry Guring, looked them over, and issued a quick command. Two of the soldiers stepped forward to join the diplomats while the rest remained at attention, waiting to be directed to the bus.

Ames was also quietly appraising Senior Lieutenant Brooks. That puppy's got to be an Adel, he thought, recalling his conversation with Jenssen on the beach where she had described the Alconian nobility. Looking at this kid, he could see why she didn't think much of them.

Lieutenant Brooks nodded at the request to 'lead on' and nodded. "If you will…" He made a gesture towards the waiting auto. "…. I will go notify Captain Lars that we a leaving." He turned and nodded at the three men in grey uniforms standing about the auto.

It was an antique 36' Packard limousine in hunt green with shinning chrome and a leather interior that smelled like a special collections library. The passenger compartment of the car had seats both looking backwards and forwards, it could sit six people comfortably.

One of the sergeants in gray opened the door for the dignitaries and waited for them to get in. He nodded to the two Presidential Guards. "If you wouldn't mind, one of you blokes could take the front passenger seat."

Another gray unifomred militiamen, with bars rather than stripes on his sleeve (it was confusing but he was actually a Master's Mate), walked over to the bus and started getting in.

Looking at the long precise lines of the Presidential Guard, the mate waved and shouted, "Well come on…you don't want to spend all day out in the heat." The climate here was subtropical, likely not a problem for Captain Ames. The mate made his way into the driver's seat of the bus.

The last man in gray busied himself with gathering luggage and putting it in the vehicles. After the first trip, one of the marine officers shouted some orders, and four marines peeled off the ranks and went to help get the arrival's luggage into the bus and limo.

Brooks approached the Marine officer, saluted and then seemed to take a stance of parade rest. Captain Lars returned the salute, obviously made a few comments. Both men saluted each other and Brooks returned to the car.

"Sargent? Have we gotten all the luggage?"

"Yes sir…and the dignitaries are in the car."

"Fine, fine…and the guard detail…"

"Waiting sir you just…oh, meant the wo…the…Presidential Guard isn't it?"

"Yes…the black uniform fellows…"

"Last one got on the bus a moment ago…"

"Good…I'll drive…"

"Begging the officer's pardon, but you should be keeping the guests happy…"

Brooks seemed to ponder this advice, he looked at the Packard, then at his non-com and back at the Packard.
"Fine, just don't strip the gears Hever…"

"I'll do my best sir…"

Sargent Hever got into the drivers seat, on the right side while Brooks took a seat in the passenger compartment, and placed his officer's cap in his lap. A moment later the Packard's engine roared to life and the small convoy pulled off the tarmac and onto an access road. A few moments later, they reached a gate with an armed guard, and picked up two motorcycles running before them.

Brooks looked a bit worried. He kept on peering at Hever through the glass, and then giving a nervous smile to the dignitaries. "Well, I guess I get to be your tour guide on this little jaunt down to Lake Point…ah, I must say we were all quite surprised by the announcement of the Outer Ministry that these negotiations would be held here. Quite honored actually…"

He trailed off as he noticed the approaching railroad crossing, watching as Hever took the crossing at reduced speed (but still a bit fast.)

"Well we are coming into Nawthorne up ahead. Originally founded as a supply depot during the siege of Black River back in 1715. Grew up around the orchards and furniture industry in this area. "

Which seemed appropriate, considering that on both sides of the road were orchards. Off in the distance, out the right side windows, rose low, tree covered mountains.

The packard hit a BUMP in the road.

Nervous, Pierce's fingers commented.

Probably has never done this before, Millhouse's fingers answered.

Too bad we didn't bring the Minister of Internal Security along, Pierce's fingers said wryly.

What on earth would he... oh. Millhouse shook her head. You are horrible.

Yes, I am.

Meanwhile Lancaster was talking to Brooks, listening to his descriptions of the areas they were passing. "I see," she said. "Is the depot itself still standing? I would imagine it would be an interesting tourist attraction if it is."

The car jolted as it went over a bump, and this time it was the Glorious Humans who glanced towards the driver's compartment. Lancaster had not missed the way their escort kept glancing towards the driver, and she wondered how good the driver really was.

Brooks blinked at Lancaster for a moment, "Er...well...it didn't really have any real permanent structures...well except for the bridge and the forts...and one of the barracks supposedly is part of the Barrack Hotel but that is just rumor actually."

By this time the orchards had given way to a series of large houses set well back from the road with broad lawns of flowers and massive trees. Most of the buildings appeared to be built of brick or were covered in stucco. All appeared to have wide porches attached to them. The house styles varied from simple Georgians to a few arts and craft syle buildings with splayed walls.

The sound of a whistle could be made out as the car approached an intersection. A moment later the convoy turned onto a wider street. The opposing traffic was now being blocked by what appeared to be a police officer in white uniform wearing a pith hat.

The town of Nawthorne wasn't very big by most standards, two to four story buildings, most appearing to be of either 18th or 19th century construction lined the wide sidewalks that had a few people moving up and down. A good number of individuals in town stopped and turned to watch the convoy go pass. A few people actually waved.

Only two other remarkable things would be noted on the trip. The first was that when the convoy passed the town green, a group of apparent protesters stood on the sidewalk shouting anti-drakonian slogans such as "Death to Drakonia" or "Pakhra go home"

Brooks saw them and just mumbled 'Deyllians' without any further comment.

The second remarkable thing was the large tower that dominated the fields south of town. The Lieutenant commented "that's the Third Battle of Hawthorne Memorial. The other four are on the north side of town so we didn't pass them."

A few moments later the convoy turned onto a four lane, divided highway. The median was actually filled with trees that opened up to show the opposing traffic occasionally.

Brooks visibly relaxed a bit when the Packard entered the highway. Brooks fell silent, it seemed that having nothing to point out or questions to answer he just stopped talking and smiled a bright eager smile.

The Packard and the bus were both doing about 120 mph. Twenty minutes later they slowed and turned off the parkway and entered a group of narrow roads. They passed fields filled crops or cows, forests of small bushes, and dense woods that looked like they hadn't been touched in centuries. An occasional farmhouse went past.

Brooks had become worried again and kept glancing at the driver whenever he felt the car down or upshift.

"Someone really ought to mention to those protestors that we're not Drakonians," Pierce noted with a wry grin. "There is a difference between us. For instance, the fact that we're here, instead of back home trying to come up with justifications for a pointless war."

"Oh I'm sure if they think hard enough, they can come up with some reason," Lancaster replied. "Assuming no heads explode before an idea emerges."

He's probably very confused, listening to us snipe at our friends, Lancaster's fingers said to Pierce. Her answer was a slight shrug.

"Do your drivers normally go this fast?" Lancaster inquired of Brooks, changing the subject as she glanced out at the terrain whipping by. "I appreciate the speed of the trip, but-" they all jolted as the car found another bump. "-are these really safe speeds on country roads?"

"Well, look at it this way," Pierce noted. "One way or another, the trip will be over soon."

"Such a cheery thought," Lancaster murmured.

Brooks frowned at the statement, "Sir, are you suggesting that the sargent is incapable of driving you safely to your destination? I should point out that we have no approached any opposing traffic since we left the parkway since this road has been closed off for the passage of this convoy."

He leaned back in his seat, "And let us be honest, Drakonia might take extreame measures to ensure that your government have a legitimate reason for a war, like accusing us of killing off a peaceful diplomatic mission."

The convoy slowed as they entered a large traffic circle and then approached a new road, Here, there was an armored APC and an apparent WWII tank with an odd secondary turret. The road was narrowed to one lane by a rover painted gray with white markings.

The convoy stopped for a moment, and a man in similar uniform to Brooks stepped forward. He was carrying a submachine gun, and knocked on the glass.

Brooks lowered the window. And looked up at the milita captain.
"Password...Echo..." the captain said in a dry voice.
"Beta Echo Alpha Six Four Six..." replied Brooks.

The captain stood up again and waved both vehicels through. This road was really quite narrow, and the cars only seemed to keep a speed of 40 mph. One side of the was lined by massive Oak trees and a stone wall. Feilds of grain, grass with sheep, and corpses of trees lay beyond along the long slope of a low ridge. Beyond the top of the ridge there was only blue sky as as a background. On the left side of the road was row after row of juniper bushes that seemed to go on and on, in the hazy distance beyond the small trees a line of taller trees could be made out. The orchard of bushes occassionally was peirced by a narrow dirt lane. The smell of cinnimon waffed through the open window.

The road opened up for a moment with a large complex of metal and stone buildings set into bush orchard. A few tractors and people could be made out in amongst the buildings. The other side of the road was now a deep, dark forest.

Set into the woods was a large, two story stone gatehouse. Several armed men, most in kaki uniforms with red tabs on the collar, and shouldering assult rifles stood around the gothic structure. A marine in full uniform waved the two cars through as they turned off the lane and onto the driveway. The driveway continued through the dark, almost primeval, woods. Then the woods parted away on the left side to reveal Lake Point.

Brooks turned to look out the window and said quietly, "Welcome to Lake Point Manor..."

A large, dark blue lake with grassy banks sat before them. On a rise on the far side of the lake was a three story mock castle constructed of reddish grey stone. Beyound the lake and the house one could see the blue on blue horizon of the sea. It streached from behind the manor house right around towards the edge of the wood, where a complex of buildings could be made out.

The manor house would be described by most as scottish baronial. Two and a half stories high, with a four story tower rising out of the central block, next to a central flemish gable wing that stood over the front porch. Two wings of the manor came forward out of of the central block forming a forecourt. They each had a flemish gable, and a smaller attached tower at one front corner. The building was filled with double hung windows set into the stone and deep bay widows made of lighter colored stone. A service wing vanished off to the north behind a group of trees. A service road cut through the small cospe of wooks towards it.

There also appeared to be several dependencies, smaller structures that stood on the edge of the lake near the house, built of similar materials.

As the two cars entered the forecourt, it was already occupied by two people, a large dog, and two horses that looked like they should be carrying armored knights with their bulk.

One of the two was Jenssen, dressed in ridding boots, tight jeans and a white blouse. She had her hair into a pony tail now. She was saying something to a small man with a wide brimmed hat and a disheveled air about him. He carried a rifle under each arm. In the shadow of the front porch, two figures could be made out flanking the front door.

Jennssen turned and waved at the car as it turned into the forecourt of the manor house. The man handed her both rifles and took the leds of the horses. The giant shnauzer looked at the approaching cars with an indiffrent air.

Brooks commented outloud, "I see Lady Jenssen has returned from her hunting mission. I better go get the guns and clean them..."

He opened the door, and stepped out as the car came to a stop. He saluted Jenssen and waited for the others to exit, holding the door.

*********
The driver of the mini bus stopped it just behind the Packard. He turned in his seat and said, "You boys can leave your gear in the bus, your staying at one of the nearby villas...but the Baron want's to greet you all...and the Colonel want's to meet with your officers." The warrent officer opened the door and walked down the steps onto the gravel of the forecourt, streaching as he did so.

(OOC: The forecourt dimensions are something like 130 feet by 120 feet, the two wings are over fifty feet wide. It is not a small building by any measure. It looks something like http://www.tourismresources.ie/cht/hume2_files/castle.JPG in general terms)

Pierce climbed out first, then turned and helped the women out. The Glorious Humans had decided by unspoken agreement to stick to the formal etiquette. Not even Lancaster knew exactly what was expected here, so they were employing a standard set of formalities used the world over in aristocracies.

Pierce and Millhouse stood back while Lancaster approached and curtsied to Jenssen. "Good to see you again, Lady Jenssen." As she said this, she remembered the tension that had been associated with Jenssen's promotion during the informal meeting. She hoped to God there wouldn't be more of that. Then she straightened and introduced Pierce and Millhouse. Both bowed as they were introduced.

**********************************************************

"Gotcha, we'll meet with them right away," Lt. Colonel Guring answered. He nodded to Ames and climbed out of the bus.

"Everybody out!" Ames ordered, standing up and following his CO out of the bus. Just like at the airport, the Guards filed out of the bus and formed up in lines. The two guards who had ridden along with the diplomats also quietly rejoined the black-uniformed ranks. When they were lined up in four neat rows of five, with Ames standing to the side, Guring conducted a quick inspection.

While Guring was making sure the troops were immaculate, Ames slid a sideways look towards where the diplomats and Jenssen were talking. He didn't want to stare, but for just a second, he couldn't help it. His eyes drank in her features, wandering over her face. Only supreme training kept him from sighing or turning his head to look more directly at her. This was going to be interesting.

But right now he had a job to do. He snapped his eyes forward again and waited for his next order.

Jenssen returned the bows with her own and then nodded at Brooks. He scurried forward and she smiled lightly and whispered. "You forgot your staff eppulet and your pilot wings Lieutenant, would you be so kind as to take these rifles to the gun room?"

Brooks face turned crimson for a moment, he gave a short bow to the group and said, "I must take my leave of you now, good day..." He took the rifles from Jenseen and walked towards a small doorway in the north wing of the building under a large bay window. He came short as three figures emerged from the door.

Jenssen turned slightly and her smile increase in wattage by a few hundread percent. "Ompa..." She said in a happy, bright tone. The first man, dressed in a simple blue blazer, gray slacks, and a fine checked blue shirt, smiled and walked towards Jenseen. He appeared to be in his ninties, he was slightly stooped, with a slow gait. The man carried a cane under his arm like a swagger stick. "Ah, I see you have returned from the hunt just in time...tell me were you successful?"

Jenssen shook her head, "I got a few males but no females and I didn't even make out the matriarch. And Balthus here..." she pointed to the dog, "had a hell of a time with one..."
The man nodded as he came up to the side of his grandaughter. The family reseblence was obvious, especially in the eyes, even if his were hiding behind a pair of wire rimmed spectacles.

Jenssen turned back to the guests. "Minister Peirce, may I present my Grandfather, Baron Caddray." The Baron placed his cane into the ground and gave a short bow. "Ompa...this is Minister Peirce, Deputy Minister Millhouse, and Mrs. Lancaster."

She finally turned to look at the other two men behind her grandfather.

One was a burly man dressed in a kaki uniform with emerald green tabs on the prussian collar and the markings of a full Colonel on his shoulders. He had hard blue eyes, a bald head and cigar set in the side of his mouth. He also had a massive display of ribbons on his barrel like chest.

"Colonel Kelly..." She nodded at the man and he pulled out his cigar and spoke with an accent so thick it needed a chainsaw to cut. "Aye Md,laiedie..."

She continued, ignoring or understanding the man. "This is the Glorious Humanity delegation. The Colonel here is incharge of security for these negotations." The man gave a bow and said "Erd Eyd yor luridships"

The third man of the group was tall, almost six six and had a wry smile on his attractive face. He looked like a movie star just past his prime, and Jenssen gave a start when she saw him..."Baron Orith...I wasn't expecting you....good to see you..." The Baron chuckled, "It is good to see you...Kat no I'm here as an advisor to the Colonel...Minister Peirce, Minister Millhouse, Ms. Lancaster..."

His brown eyes locked on to Georgia for a moment as he bowed to each in turn. "I would appreciate it if you would all just refer to me as Paul, I've grown weary of formal titles...I've had too many in my career." His voice was almost lyrical and quite pleasent.

Baron Caddray turned to look over the forecourt. "Ah, Dear please take our guests into the Hall for some refreshments. He then turned to the protective detail and said, "they look quite well trained...."

The Colnel whispered, "Aye, Uht 'an dae feght"

Baron Caddray summoned up a command voice from somewhere in side him and proclaimed, "Ladies and Gentlemen, On behalf of myself and my liege Lord, His Grace Alexander III I welcome you to Lake Point Manor. I hope you find your stay enjoyable..." He turned and looked up at the front door as it opened. A butler appeared on the front steps, "Adams, send out the cider and the snacks on some tressels for these men. I and our guests will retire to the hall for refreshment."

Adams gave a nod and said, "Very good sir."

Lady Jenssen turned and led the group up the front steps, taking Lancaster by the arm. On the porch were two men dressed in green and white uniforms that appeared to be out of a 19th century. They both saluted Jenssen who reflextively returned the salute. Jenssen whispered to Lancaster with a mix of apprehension and excitement in her voice, "was that Ames with the protective detail?"

The Baron followed her and walked next to Peirce. "Ah, Minister Peirce, I must appoligize for not having my driver come out and get you...but my daughter-in-law borrowed him to be her assistant mechanic with express instructions to return yesterday...However, rain has slowed down her race considerably...and kept my driver in the god forsaken jungles even longer..."

The group entered a low, vaulted chamber with blue papered walls. They continued through the room, across the screens passage and into the hall. It was a large room, about thrity feet by fifty feet and it raised up the full height of the house. The far end of the room was peirced by a large gothic, stained glass window, below the window was an arch that opened up into a large bay window. The walls were built of cut stone block, with a 14 foot high wood panelling along the bottom. On the north wall of the Hall was an ornate mantle and overmantel over a fireplace opening of some 16 feet wide.

The dark wood floors of the room were covered in oriental rugs, and several groupings of comfortable overstuffed chairs and sofas filled the space. Along the south wall there was a tressle table, covered in white cloth and set with plates of sandwiches, several crystal decanters, and a punch bowl. Two men in black and green livery stood at both sides of the table.

Jenssen turned to the group, "Please take a seat, and give Martin and Patrick your drink orders."

****
Outside the Colnel and Paul had approached Sargent Hever and the Lt. Colonel. "Aye, whid'd of yea be command'n dis herd squid of meen?"

"No need to worry, your Honor," Pierce answered. "We've got jungles back home, I understand how they can be. As long as your daughter gets back in one piece, no harm done to anyone."

"I believe I saw his name on the security roster," Lancaster answered Jenssen in a low voice with a small smile. "Yes, he is here, though I have a feeling that for the moment he's going to be tied up entertaining your military sorts. I'm sure though, he will break loose some time later." As soon as he can drop his duties in someone else's lap and take off for a bit, she thought. She knew how much Ames had been looking forward to coming here.

"Trust me," she finished. "He's looking forward to seeing you again." Then she moved to one of the offered seats, shifting her attention to the others in the room and raising her voice back to a normal speaking level.

"Drinks... perhaps just some good red wine for now." She glanced at Jenssen and smiled. "Lady Jenssen may recall the last time we met I confessed to being a bit of a lightweight, so I'll have to be careful." She nodded to her colleagues to indicate that they could go ahead.

"I'm partial to rum," Pierce said, settling himself into another chair.

"I'm fine right now," Millhouse replied. "Though if it's alright, I believe I will have a sandwich."

**********************************************************

Lt. Colonel Guring stepped forward and saluted. "Lieutenant Colonel Barry Guring, President's Guard." He gestured towards Ames, who also stepped forward and saluted. "And this is my second in command, Captain Christopher Ames."

Barry Guring was a veteran of the President's Guard. Like most Glorious Humans his white skin was deeply tanned from many hours in the tropical sun, and lined with the marks of age and hard work. His green eyes were very alert as they looked over the Aloconans. He was noticably leaner than quite a few of his subordinates, Ames included, but Ames knew that despite the thin frame Guring could take on any of the younger and buffer soldiers under his command any day of the week. His hair showed no signs of aging yet, still being a rich dark brown at the roots, with the tips of his military buzz bleached lighter by the sun. Anyone who had ever served under Guring had a lot of respect for him.

"I've got twenty soldiers plus myself and the Captain," Guring continued. "I was told that we'd be figuring out placements once we arrived. I was also told very specifically not to allow my troops to pick any crops." He raised a brow at the Alconans as he said this. Ames, who knew the joke behind that order, smirked a little.

Jenssen nodded at the wine request and said, "I think the Berringer White Merlot would be best Martin, and I will have a sweet tea."

The Baron sat down in his customary chair, and mused "Like wise...like wise...hit of burbon in it though..."

One of the footmen vanished back into the screen passage as Adams reappeared. He make a few gestures to Patrick and soon the drinks were being handed out.

Adams polietly inquired of Millhouse, "Ah, what kind of sandwich? We have ham, cheese, cucumber, and shrimp salad?"

Martin reappeared with a bottle of red wine and placed it on the table. Allowing Adams to open the bottle and pour some in a wine glass. A few moments later Lancaster had her drink."

The Baron stood up again and raised his glass, "A toast, tradition dictates that junior officer present make the loyalty toast...."

Jenssen looked at her grandfather with a bemused smile, "I think it would be inappropriate for us to ask the Glorious Humanity delegation to drink to God, Alcona, and Alexander Ompa, but perhaps we should all make a toast to peace." She rised her glass and stated in a more conventional tone, "To Peace ladies and gentlemen, let no red rivers or outer islands cloud our respective futures..."

She sipped her ice tea at the end of the toast and looked at her grandfather over the glass. He seemed to be chuckling to himself.

*****
Colonel Kelly replied, "Aye ye be needen' ta see da comman' ce'nter deen..." He waved the two officers to follow him as he strode back towards the house and the small side door he had entered.

Paul followed the officers with an air of detachment. At the doorway, the Colonel saluted another man in a green and white uniform. The man had taken a postion such that only the two guards at the front door could see him standing in the small inset porch area. Unlike the other two he had a SAW slung across his shoulder.

Inside was a hallway running along the side of the wing, with doorways on one side and small windows overlooking the courtyard on the other. The door directly across the hall from the exterior door was open. Inside was Brooks working on a long, granite counter cleaning the rifles he had been handed. The room looked like a cross between a fancy kitchen and workshop with tools against the walls, and expensive wooden cabinets beneith the granite counter. A large vice and small lathe seemed out of place in the room. On the other wall was a series of glass cabinets with pole arms and swords. There was also a very wide safe door with three combination knobs on it.

The Colonel turned without saying anything, going up some stairs and long the hall towards the main house. Paul quickly summerized the scene, "Ah the gun room, and I suppose you already met the Admiral's aide..."

The Colonel turned where the hallway intercected into another hall, and then entered a door guarded by a man in a kaki uniform with green tabs and a submachine gun over his shoulder.

The room inside was normally the manor buisness office, but it had been reset as the command center. Along one wall a table with several computers had been set up. Several young men and women, all in uniforms of varying levels sat at the screens. On the far wall was two maps, One was of the island with various military symbols attached to it indicating unit postions. The other map was apparently of the surrounding islands with similar, smaller symbols.

On a table in the center of the room was a topographic model of the area surrounding the point. It was color coded with a small red model of the manor house at the center.

It was now obvious how Lake Point actually laid out. The point was formed by two ridges that met at a 30 degree angle and jutted out into the nearby ocean. At the hollow between the two ridges was the lake, with the Manor House overlooking the ocean across what appeared to be a wide flat area of dunes and beach, standing on the higher south-east to north-west running ridge. The other ridge ran strait north and south and formed one side of a large inlet. Several smaller points seemed to line the edges of the inlet, the most southerly of the points actuall formed a smaller bay off the inlet. It was surrounded by the forms of buildings painted white.

On the next point was a building painted light blue, to contrast with the dark blue of the water surrounding the small peninsula it sat on. The table was covered by little red boats, green figures, red figures and gray figures. At the manor was a group of blue figures.

The Colonel looked down at the table, munched on his cigar and shouted "Ehr...whai der bloomin' feak ist Awalvait 'eding..." pointing towards a small red boat several points to the east of the apparent horseshoe of small vessels around the point. He ignored his guests and began to try to find out what the gunboat was up to...

Paul smiled at them both, "I think it would be easier if I quickly breifed you. As you can see this is the command center, we are keeping tabs on all forces and where they are. Obviously this would be easier if we were using an electronic update screen, but those are a bit hard to install into a private house...but there is an identical back-up command center located on the Abrams... he pointed to a small red ship that looked like a flat top. Of course they have electronic monitoring maps."

He pointed to the topographic model again. "Now then, the manor house is here, this group of buildings is the Jenssen family warehouses, and this blue building is the villa where your primaries are staying. As you can see this is well within the cordon formed by the marines in red, and the outer cordon formed by the local milita in grey..."

He stopped to see if the two officers had any questions.

****
About the same time, a group of men and women appeared around the corner of the house. Four men, all in livery carried tressle tables between them, a fifth man, in a kaki uniform carried a fiasco. The first woman, in a white dress and blue apron carried a tray with glass mugs. Behind her two more women appeared.

The tables were quickly set with the small barrel of hard apple cider, a black dutch oven filled with some kind of rabbit stew, thick slabs of corn bread, and a large wheel of cheese.

One of the girls behind the tables looked up at the men in black uniforms, "well, ain't you boys want your lunch or not?"

"Indeed, peace is a cause worth toasting," Lancaster agreed, raising her glass. She shot a mildly curious look at the Baron as she did so.

"And to work towards," Pierce seconded, raising his. Millhouse had no glass, so she raised her sandwich, one of the shrimp salad ones.

"We heard you discussing hunting earlier," Pierce began once the toast was over. "I've done some hunting myself back home, so I'm curious what you were after. Your conversation indicated that it was dangerous."

**********************************************************

"Looks like you've got good, thorough security," Guring said approvingly. "I haven't got any questions at this time, except of course what your gunship is doing. I would like to know as soon as someone can tell me. Any questions, Captain?"

"No sir," Ames answered.

"Oh yes, there is one other thing," Guring continued. He reached into a small side pouch on his belt and withdrew a minidisk. "This contains the current frequencies for our personal trackers." He reached around and detached a small gray box from the back of his belt and showed it to Paul. "Every one of the guards and the diplomats is wearing one of these things. Just plug the frequencies into your radio network, and you can keep track of us very easily."

Ames absently checked his tracker, then replaced it on his belt as Guring did the same with his. It had been decided that giving up the frequencies would be an appropriate gesture of good faith, since it would allow the Alconans to monitor every move the Glorious Humans made. Besides, Ames knew that the devices were programmed with three frequencies, and could be retuned on the fly. If someone abused the system, a couple clicks of the small dial on the bottom of the tracker would remove the Glorious Humans from radio tracking again.

"Oh yes, there's a couple crates on our plane that are carrying our heavy armor and weapons," Guring continued. "Not that we expect to use them, but the brass is paranoid, you know what I mean? I'd like to get those transported here and stowed away pretty soon." Currently the Guards were only carrying sidearms and wearing light kevlar vests.

**********************************************************

Sergeant Alan Collins, the officer left in command of the detachment outside, considered the food, then shrugged. "Why not? Let's eat. Keep it orderly people."

The Guards formed up in a line going past the tables, collecting what they wanted from the things offered. Collins selected five of his people to take the first guard watch once everyone was settled in. This group was instructed not to take anything for the moment. Another set of orders were circulated among the rest of the group, and after everyone had some food an amount was left for the people going on duty to have something to eat when their shift ended.

Once the people who were eating had their food, they broke off in twos and threes, talking amongst themselves or wandering around looking at the area.

Jenssen raised an eyebrow at Pierce's question, "Vampeir Hassen, a moderate sized long eared rodent, omnivore in diet with a decidely nasty set of lower canine teeth and an anti-colaqulent venom allowing them to kill larger prey species. They tend to run in pods around a central female, usually refered to as a Matriarch. Very dangerous..."

The Baron took over, "Yes little demons the bastards are...usually live in the mountains or in large forested glens...occasionally you find one or two in the vicinity, but it appears a pod had moved south recently..."

Jenssen walked over to the table and got a refill on her sweet tea. She added, "So don't wander outside without one of the dogs or your guards in tow. We don't want to be doing tirage for a wound that won't close."

*************
Paul nodded, "We might have some fun with this buisness...radio frequency interference and such, but I am sure the boys and girls of the Navy will straiten in out...good thing his Majesty hasn't arrived yet..."

The Colonel was yelling into a headseat, the unit was designed to dampen normal coversation to a whisper in the room but the Colonel's voice was defeating the system...
"Aye...listden yah bleen' pakrah you'd be gettin der ashf in'a bleen' po'sition orda A'll e scrag'...."

Paul chuckled, "You can make the Non-com an officer but you can't change their nature of cursing out vagrents..."

He leaned over to the young female guardsmen, a pretty brunette..."Why was the gunboat out of postion?"

"Lieutenant Commander Abernathy was escorting a small sail boat out of the exclusion zone. His coxswain noted that the pilot was a nicely built blond, and that the Lieutenant Commander was doing a throughough job of ah...investigating the subject..."

"That wouldn't happen to be Lord Abernathy's son would it?"

"Why you are correct sir..."

Paul shook his head, "Well we now know why, one of the local Militia officers seems to have been thinking with his lower anatomy at the moment rather than his head. Likely he will have bleeding ears and a sleeping companion tonight..."

Paul was about to lead them out the door, they were a bit in the way after all.

"Oh, yes Colonel Guring who are you assigning as Liason officer? Someone to have his or her quarters nearby so if we lose radio communications or some other emergency we have a resident expert on your S.O.P available. And a way of accessing your back-up systems if need be...."

Obviously the man assumed that the Presidential Guard hadn't revealed all their systems to the Alconians, and didn't really seem to mind. "...And someone you can inherently trust to give you a truthful analysis of the situation if we have a FUR moment."

*********
The serving girls stood behind the tables and gave smiles to the men and women in uniform. They had an odd accent compared to the men in family livery.

"So noted, we'll keep that in mind," Pierce said.

"Not quite a jaguar, no?" Lancaster observed with a small smile. One of the Minister's prize hunting trophies was a stuffed jaguar that he had acquired during a culling hunt fifteen years ago. Pierce was fond of talking about it, jokingly calling it "the thing I used to hunt before I got too fat to hunt anything but files."

"No, not quite. Smaller and sounds nastier, there's a combination I never thought I'd hear of," Pierce agreed. He suddenly laughed.

"Something funny?" Lancaster raised a brow.

"Sport hunting," he said, his eyes twinkling.

"You're not serious!" Lancaster exclaimed, her mouth dropping open.

"No, no I'm probably not," he agreed. "But it's an interesting idea, isn't it?"

Lancaster shook her head, and turned to address the Alconians. "What Minister Pierce just was talking about was the idea of sport hunting on your islands. In Glorious Humanity, most of the dangerous predators are protected by law, the only time anyone is allowed to hunt them is during the regular cullings that happen a few times a year to keep populations from expanding into human settlements. The sport hunters who like dangerous marks always look forward to them. The Minister is suggesting that with a little advertising you could probably make a heck of a tourist industry out of idiots with big rifles paying you large sums for the chance to clean out some of your more dangerous beasts. I don't think he was serious."

"Then again..." Pierce shrugged. "That kind of attraction is big money in some countries."

**********************************************************

Guring chuckled softly. "Yes well, everyone has their share of soldiers who can't think with the right head." Ames looked forward and didn't say anything. He was quietly glad that Guring had not been briefed on everything that happened during the informal meeting.

Guring thought about the liason question, then looked at Ames. "Collins?"

"Collins," Ames agreed.

"Sergeant Alan Collins it is then," Guring decided. He looked at Paul. "Collins is the next guy down from us in the food chain. He's briefed on everything and knows our equipment inside and out. I'd trust him to be accurate and reliable in a trouble situation."

**********************************************************

Collins munched on a piece of cornbread while he wandered among the troops, keeping visual track of all of them and mentally doing a headcount every couple of minutes as he'd been trained to do. Everyone was sticking to the assigned area, as ordered.

Because he was the kind of man who picked up on small details like accents, Collins wondered why their servers had different ones from the rest of the people here, but he finally chalked it up to them probably being born somewhere else and finding work here.

Jenssen shook her head, "In this day and age too few nations and their populations accept the concept of responsible actions to go allowing their populations to go running through Klatchian Wilderness with a gun."

The Baron nodded, "Yes, for Glorious Humanity would have to recoginize that each hunter was legally responsible for placing themselves in danger and that sueing the guides or their employeers will not be tolerated in the court system."

Jenssen sat down, "You see the current score for a lot of the besties in the Klatchian Jungle has them winning. The Klatchian Croc used to have a ratio of 3 humans killed for each croc until we introduced the "Klatchian Kitty" but using a camoflaged claymore mine for hunting is really not sporting. I doubt that your...ah...wealthier population would find the loss rate of big game hunters aceptable, especially with some comming home in small boxes and identified by DNA. Most big game hunters want the excitement of killing something that could kill back...but really want the odds to be lopsided in their favor..."

The Baron nodded, "Can't get a good trophy if you blow the head off...nope...and hauling the head of an 18m creature is going to be messy. I mean the hunting of the Vampeir Hassen is decent...but really the Islands are comparately safe compared to the mainland."

At about this time Paul wandered in. "Well we got the security working on the same page....Ah, sweet tea Adams...You know Kat, one of your ex's just got an earful from the Colonel."

The Baron did not seem pleased at the comment, as though a standing problem in the house was his grandaughter's choices in boyfreinds.

"Oh, yes and it will be a Sargent Collins staying in the house..."

Jenssen seemed to deflate a bit with that news from Paul.

********
Paul chuckled at the head comment and led them back into the forecourt. There he indicated the respite offered to the men, "It would seem the Admiral is being a gracious host. Now where is Collins? Ah yes...I will inform a footman...good day gentlemen" He gave a short bow to the two officers and vanished through the main doors into the house.

A few moments later a footman appeared next to Collins..."Sargent, my name is Weathers I am to take your baggage to your room, where is it please?" The footman was a bit out of sorts having to ask the location of the man's luggage.

From somewhere across the lake the sound of a whinning electric motor could be made out in the forecourt.

Lancaster looked at Jenssen for a moment, then shrugged and looked away. Her eyes wandered briefly to Paul before returning to the group. "Well, it is good to hear that everything is working correctly. I guess then patrols will be sent out, and everyone else will have a chance to relax, maybe look around." Her eyes slid sideways to Jenssen as she said this.

"For that matter," she continued. "As the rest of the delegates have yet to arrive, I guess we are all getting a chance to relax before we get down to buisiness." She looked around the room for confirmation.

**********************************************************

"My room? I dunno, I thought you would know... oh my baggage." Collins grinned. "Just playing with you, friend. We piled our stuff up near the bus, give me a moment and I'll find mine."

Collins led the footman to a pile of black duffelbags and side packs, and began digging through them. He could not have been older than twenty-five, with short blond hair, green eyes, and a decent but not overly muscular build. He seemed fairly easygoing and informal.

After a few seconds of rooting, he came up with a large duffel bag with a nametag and a smaller pack. These he offered to the footman. "Here you go. Now where exactly are my quarters?"

Around the courtyard, a few heads, including Collins', turned curiously towards the sound of the motor.

Paul gave Lancaster a wink when she looked at him. Jenssen nodded about the comment that none of the other delegates had arrived. "We have sent out flying boats to bring them in..." Oh, damn right they likely don't even remember the term, "common name for seaplanes around here...we have a dock for them in the bay..."

Paul quirped, "I would hope the former Admiral of Fifth fleet would have one about the place..." He smirked into his tea.

Jenssen just shot Paul the look of a junior officer who wanted to take a superior officer out and pummel them to death. "...Bethune should be arriving in a few hours...along with his Grace, and I don't know if the Vrakian Key is with them...Alexander decided that his occasion he would sail to the meeting on the Elizabeth unfortunatly, the winds have been a bit erratic and he has all but flat out refused to use the engines."

The Baron just chuckled, "That boy always wanted to be a clipper captain sailing on the high seas. I assume M.A.V is with him?"
"Nope...we having a diplomatic problems with another nation...they poked the provirbial walrus and haven't clued into the fact that they need to appologize quickly about it..."

"Oh, then we will get to see Elizabeth?"

"I am not sure about that..." She bit her lip in concentration, Liz might just want to take Ames if she can...

*****
The joke went over with the footman like a ton of lead bricks. He picked up the bags and then just walked off towards the small door off the forecourt.

The arrival of the electric motor, and the vehicle it was powering, seemed to distract everyone except the footman and the servers. The vehicle looked like a cross between a dune buggy and a golf cart. Which was a bit unusual. The two women aboard were likely even more of a startling sight, or at least a well appreicated sight to the men.

It was twins(!) and twins who looked like they belonged to the Olympic Basketball team of Norway. Both were blond, six eight with grey eyes, they were not 'beutiful' in the classic sense. Their faces were a bit too chisled to be that, but their athletic bodies likely drew men's glances all the same. They were even dressed the same in white suits, actually they looked more like uniforms with the small crests on the left pocket of the jackets. A dark black web strap could be seen under their jackets and over the black blouses, obviously holding up the long swords in scabbards on their left hips.
((A really observent person would note that the cut of the jackets allowed for a gun to be concealed under them also.))

The two pairs of grey eyes quickly took in the scene as their hands rested on two swords. The left one nodded to her sister towards the two officers in the forecourt. The right one followed the veiw and then returned the nod. The right blond strode foreword and stopped before Guring and Ames. She said in a clipped manner with as much warmth as an artic wind, "your detail's quarters are ready."

By now the footman, and Collins gear, had vanished from the forecourt. The left blond had strode through the crowd and up the front steps. The two guards had saluted her, but she returned the salute by placing a fisted right hand over her left breast.

****

The blond strode into the hall like a whirlwind. She stopped before the Baron and dropped to one knee with her right fist over her left breast, head bent forward, and left hand keeping the hand and half sword from doing any mischief.

"My leige, I have done as you asked..."

She was cut off by the Baron, "Damn it girl, I don't need you going full formal on me now...now where is your sister..."

"Outside with the...security detail of the...foreigners." Obviously the young was trying to avoid any poor choice of words in the present company. Jenssen coughed, "Ah yes...I hope you don't mind but we decided that it would make things easier if we put you up at a nearby villa as we first discussed in Knootoss. However, I was hoping that Miss Lancaster would stay in the manor house so that she could have easy acess to her mirror Mister Bethune."

She turned to Lancaster, "I don't know if he told you himself, but the man is now stuck on crutches on his good days and fully bed ridden on his bad ones...you saw his health was never very good in the first place..."

"Thank you," Guring answered simply. Ames was inclined to agree that the fewer words, the better. These women did not seem at all inclined towards humor or polite conversation... or any conversation, for that matter.

"Well, in that case, Captain Ames, go inform the diplomats that we're going to get our things ready if that's okay, then report back here," Guring ordered.

"Yes sir." Ames saluted, then turned and jogged towards the manor house.

Guring turned to address the rest of his people. "All Guards get your things and form up, let's go see our quarters." Though he spoke in a moderate tone, and did not call very loudly, the Guards scattered around the area immediately jumped to the command. They all gathered their things from the pile of gear, then formed up in two neat columns, with Collins at the head since Ames was away. They appeared relaxed and at ease, alert but not too concerned about their surroundings. Everything seemed safe for the moment.

**********************************************************

"Certainly, I can do that," Lancaster agreed. "It would be my pleasure." Idly, she wondered if staying in the manor would mean having to deal with Paul making passes. He was handsome, and seemed rather nice, but she was really not sure how to deal with him. She knew there was a lot of tension in the air, both political and other, but being hit on herself was not something she had planned for. Then again, who actually does plan for that?

Either way, she'd likely be talking to Bethune more anyway. That part she was looking forward to. He had struck her as extremely sensible and intelligent, and she liked him, thought he might almost be a friend if circumstances were not putting them on opposite sides of the proverbial fence.

So, talk to Bethune, talk to the other delegates when they arrive, and decide whether or not to react to Paul.

Further conversation was interrupted by Ames entering the room. He saluted the Glorious Humans, which Pierce made an attempt to return. Ames' mouth twitched slightly, then he delivered his report.

"The Alconans were nice enough to feed everyone, and we were just informed that our quarters are ready. Guring requests permission to take the off-duty troops and get them settled in."

"He actually has to ask?" Pierce tilted his head. "Of course, permission given. Let them sleep off their jet lag and relax."

"Thank you sir," Ames nodded. "A five-guard detail will remain here for security. That's all."

"Very good then," Pierce said. "Dismissed."

Ames saluted again. As he turned to go, he looked directly at Jenssen. For a moment the edges of his mouth turned up in a warm smile, then he winked at her and strode out of the room.

The woman in white only raised an eyebrow at the men forming up. As though she expected them to be completely disorginized. "I thought you would take the bus...but if you want your men to march it, it is not far..."

She turned on her heel and walked over to the mini-bus and the driver. She said nothing, just thrust her head towards the door the milita non-com seemed to move with remarkable speed back into the Bus.

A moment later the engine started and the bus slowly rolled around the forecourt. The door was open and the woman was standing behind the driver, she was looking at Guring with a slight smile on her face.

(Poor Collins...his gear is in the Manor but he is about to go marching away from it...)
**********
Ames got back a coy smile, and a decidely warm look from Jenssen's eyes...Ahh, he is still into me...now I just have to keep liz off of him...

Paul noticed the glance and raised an eyebrow for a split second. He obviously surpressed it, rather than gain the notice of the Baron who was now just shaking his head at the whole scene. The woman in white had watched Ames and Pierce trade salutes.

Paul decided to get Jenssen back onto more appropriate things, "Oh yes...the Minister's protective detail wanted access to their heavy weapons...."

The woman in white answered, "I will go make arrangements for a proper escort to be arranged my lady...."

Jenssen bit her tounge for a moment and waved her off. "Adams will you have one of the footmen retreive Miss Lancaster's luggage. She will be staying here."

Adams gave a bow and replied in his cultured tone, "Very good my lady."

As the butler turned and left the room again. The coversation seemed to lull. The Baron looked at eveyone not sure what to say next...Jenssen was wool gathering...Why am I being as giddy as a school girl? I barely know the fellow...

The Baron decided to break the lull first. "I must appologize to all of you youngsters...((and consdering his age that was not an inappropriate comment)) but I need to freshen up a bit before I have to welcome my monarch and leige lord to my home for the first time as a peer. Not an insignificant event in the life of this family..."
He stood up using his cane, "...therefore I must take my leave of you all at this time." He gave everyone a short bow and then walked out of the hall back through the screen.

Jenssen seemed to sigh a bit watching her grandfather leave. She eyed the dog who was laying out on the floor. A click of the mouth and the hound was up looking at Jenssen, she did something with her free hand and the dog trotted off after the baron.

Paul stood up and smiled to eveyone, "You know...I happen to be a tall ships enthusaist...so I am going to go out to the end of the point and see if I can sight the Elizabeth sailing across the Bosh. I can then spend the rest of the time critiquing her handling while in the presence of his Grace..." He seemed to have a big grin on his face. "And if I could have the enjoyable company of Miss Lancaster I can show her a very nice sandy cove for swimming, which I am informed by reliable sources she enjoys."

He had a bit of twinkle in his eyes. Ah yes the understated beauty, the reports were not wrong at all, and her pictures do not do her justice.

Dyelli Beybi was probably the most belligerent of the States of the Federation... well belligerent was probably the wrong word... prone to illegal activities was probably a better way of describing them, the Dyelli Beybians had an 'open mind' when it came to ways to make money for the State. This time though, they weren't trying to talk their way out of some act of International piracy or theft of foreign aid money, this time they were dealing with something that was, in the view of Parliament and the Cheka, the results of blunders by the pre-democracy administration.

"So where are we going?" It was Vlademir Dzerzhinsky, Political Officer Third Class, he was not a particularly tall man, Dyelli-Beybians generally weren't, he was slim and wiry, with a long face, dark eyes and black hair. It looked like he hadn't bothered to shave in a day or so, combining this with his field grey uniform (with blue Cheka trimming) gave him a grizzled, slavic look.

"Dunno Sir. Somewhere in Alcona and Hubris... better ask the pilot." the guard opposite him was metropolitan police, not a soldier at all, the Government had decided there was no point in sending soldiers as guards, when there was a war on, and when the police were just as well trained. He was having to yell over the noise of the rotors - they were in the back of a military Hind along with another four assorted police officers.

Dzerzhinsky shrugged, he knew full well where he was going, he was just asking to make conversation. He knew they were nearing this "Isle of Caddray" place, hopefully the Alconians would pick them up soon...

(OOC: He'll be coming back after he sees the troops settled in... probably with Ames in tow.)

Guring smirked in return. "Well, I suppose if you insist... everyone get aboard." The command was issued in the same moderate tone, and again the troops responded promptly. Guring, it appeared, did not need to shout or bark to command his soldiers. The men and women (there were actually eight women in the guard detail) filed onto the bus and found their seats. Guring waited till Ames came jogging up and reported that all was well, then he and the Captain climbed aboard and took seats near the door.

**********************************************************

"I should be happy to accompany you," Lancaster answered, standing up and smoothing her dress. He seems to know something about me already. How interesting. She wondered who could have told him, and almost automatically she glanced towards Jenssen.

"Well then, I guess that leaves us to sit around and be bored until further notice," Pierce quipped. "Don't worry," he said quickly as Lancaster shot him a raised brow. "I'll take a quick nap before I greet his Majesty. Maybe I can lose ten minutes worth of jet lag."

"Suit yourself," she answered, shrugging.

"I believe I will stay here too," Millhouse said. Don't worry, her fingers advised. He won't go sport hunting. Have fun, and remember: no international incidents.

There won't be, Lancaster's fingers answered, then she looked back at Paul with a smile. "Well then, whenever you are ready."

Paul hid his grin when she looked at Jenssen. Ah yes she thinks Kat has been telling... He offers his arm for her and then leads her towards the bay window at the end of the hall. They turn to find that there is a glass door installed opening onto a wide, stone porch. He opens the door, leads her out and down the steps into a terrce garden.

The breeze off the water hits them with a refreshing coolness. The smell of some kind of blossom, likely from the ancient trees before them mixes with the sent of salt air pleasently.

As Paul leads her across the garden he begins obviously idle chit-chat. "Well that Miss Lancaster before you is the Bosh, the northern body of water that sailors have used to for centuries to avoid the reefs of the Alconian Achipelego to our south, and the numberous reefs and bars of the outer Islands to our north." He swept his hand out to the blue horizon and dark blue sea that occupied the space before them.

He led her down a set of stairs to a lower terrace, this one had water gardens and a pavillion. "Now we are too far west to be in the narrows of the Bosh, but still one gets to see the majesty of vessles going east and west along it. Of course now we get a wonderful veiw of some naval ships, especially that aircraft carrier." He then led Lancaster onto a stone bridge that crossed a small wale and up to a beach house built on a dune.

"Quite a nice little manor the Jenssen's have built here over the years. Of course they really started off as nothing more than very ambitious...adventurers...." He stopped in the shade of the beach house, which contained a set of changing rooms on one side of the cross hall and a shower space on the other side with stairs going up to the flat roof.

Paul pointed down to the beach, it was a bit rocky..."well we can take the beach route, or the dune path...your choice." He gave her a smile, "I like the dune walk myself, but then I can see more boats that way, although I am presently quite distracted from that persuit."

*****
Jenssen watched the two leave and turned back to her guests. "Well if you want a nap Minister Peirce perhaps I can get Lieutenant Brooks to take you to your...villa. How am I left being the diplomat? Hello, girl from Hull Division...do not leave unattended with people who are not armed...

Her smile was polite, but she was obviously a bit ill at ease without any form of 'backup' besides the two footmen.

Adams tried to help, he stepped forward and asked Millhouse "Are you sure there is nothing you would like to drink?"

****
The bus followed the drive along the side of the lake and crossed what was either technically a covered bridge or a classical set peice. It was a bit hard to define.

The bus pulled through a group of buildings that looked something like a fishing village hidden by a group of dense trees from the manor house. The buildings were all frame, whitewashed, and most appeared to be warehouses although a few might have been homes. Men and women in kaki uniforms, people in gray uniforms, apparently several hundred civilians and several light armored vehicles were apparently waiting about the place. Most took little note of the bus or it's occupants.

The bus turned onto a road that followed at the upper edge of a cliff. Below there was a small harbor with a few sailing boats, a long dock, and a sea plane. The buildings formed the southern edge of the small inner harbor while a high, rocky point formed the north side. One could just make out a building in white on the point.

The bus pulled through another gate house, and back onto a paved two lane road. It didn't go far before it pulled through a second set of iron gates and up to the white building on the point.

http://www.captainvic.com/bellave/rose683.jpg

The woman in white stepped off onto the gravel drive even before the bus stopped. "I will assemble the staff in the hall for your inspection. The two largest bedrooms on the east side have been reserved for your principles. There are another seven bedrooms on the first floor and eight open staff bedrooms on the upper floor which you can not see from here."

*****

D.B. Helio, this is Squall Straits Air Control, what is your destination?

Reading you, Squall Straight Air Control. This is flight Delta, Bravo, Mike, Hotel, One, Seven, Eight, Nine. Requesting flight plan to the Isle of Caddray and landing clearance. Over.

"Are you now?" Lancaster asked with a wry smile. "Surely I am not that big a distraction from your hobby. We can take the dune walk if you wish, I would not mind a bit. This is your tour after all, and it's been a good one so far."

Handsome, friendly, and charming. A very nice man indeed. Bethune was friendly, and Jenssen is pleasant. The Alconans are not bad sorts at all. Now if only we could convince the Emirates to talk to them pleasantly instead of slinging insults like mud... meh, Paul is showing me around and I'm still thinking politics. With an effort she banished her job from her mind, at least for a while.

"I think that since you are requesting that I call you by your first name, it is only fair that you may use mine," she continued speaking out loud. "No need for 'Miss Lancaster', just 'Georgia' is fine." She paused, then grinned. "But if you ever call me 'George' I will have to do something you will regret."

She brushed an errant strand of hair out of her face. "Well then, Paul, you seem to know a bit about me, but I know almost nothing about you. That puts me at something of a disadvantage. Perhaps you could enlighten me as we walk?"

**********************************************************

"If I could have some tea now, that would be very nice," Millhouse answered.

"Tea for me as well, please," Pierce added. "I think the one drink is all the alcohol I should take right now. As for the bed," he continued, shifting his attention to Jenssen. "I'm perfectly comfortable in the chair, and I wouldn't want to accidentally sleep through his Majesty's arrival. This is your family's estate, is it? How long has your family lived here?"

**********************************************************

"Understood. Thank you," Guring replied to the woman in white. He was trying to figure out exactly what rank she held and how she should be addressed.

Guring, Ames, and Collins were the first three off when the bus came to a complete stop, and after issuing the standard disembark and form up orders to the troops they stood looking at the white building.

Collins let out a low whistle. "If the inside's anything like the outside, they're treatin' us right."

"And you're staying in the manor house anyway," Ames reminded him.

"This almost seems like a vacation doesn't it?" Collins noted. "Are we using up leave time on this assignment?" That brought light chuckles from the other two.

"Sergeant, get the troops prepared, we'll call you in shortly. Captain, come with me. Let's do that inspection," Guring ordered. Ames fell into step just behind and to the right of his CO as they approached the house.

The Beach
Paul nodded and started to led her down the path. "Really, the cordon has sent most of the shipping too far south to be seen. Most captains try to avoid getting near an aircraft carrier, even a nawthorne class."

He looked out across the dune and water for a moment, "I really am not in the habit of talking about myself…its not an Alconian custom really, Georgia."

He looked into her eyes and smiled, "but really not much to tell, eldest child of the previous Baron Orith, I had a younger brother and sister. My brother was a lieutenant aboard the Whenhill when she went down. My sister, Patricia is currently married and a geology professor at Torrhall University." He looked back out to the sea for a moment, My first love...you took my brother's body and soul...

He shrugged off the train of thought and continued, "I did my duty when I was young, went to the Naval Academy as a Marine midshipmen. Served out my time, got a job as a government bureaucrat. Then I retired because it was too damn annoying and stressful a job." Too many nights of reading reports of young men I had sent out in the darkness never to return. Too many fresh new, nameless crosses on that rock staring back at me each year... He again looked out over the sea, but not at it. His eyes were lost on some distant object and time for a moment.

He shook his head, "Not like I needed the income…now I play the semi-idle rich. Sit on a few corporate boards, annoy the hell out of some of the Keys, and occasionally play Sheriff when the Dean needs someone to fill a vacancy, and loaf around my freinds homes when I feel like it. Of course there is nothing like teasing Kat"

He leaned over and picked a flower from a nearby bush. "Now, here we have a wild rose for a beautiful woman. One who I know very little about actually."

He raised his eyebrows in an expectant look, his mouth in a wry smile as he handed the white, four petal flower to her.

Georgia Lancaster, born in one of the cooler climates of Glorious Humanity, apparently single and unattached, only has a picture of her mother on her desk. All that Mr. Black's boys and girls could find out from our new assets in Drakonia. Once met with the ruler…the Praetor is it? of Drakonia but they don't seem to have much of a file on her presently. He mused silently, his years in IIS made control of his facial features absolute.

************
The Hall

Abrams answered with "Sweet or unsweet." (It should be noted at this moment that both Jenssen and her grandfather had been given tall glasses of iced tea.)

Jenssen pointed to somewhere north of the house, "Well I can trace back my ancestry to this spot to about 1604. The tower dates to about 1609, but most of the rest of the house around it was built in 1874-76. The oldest building on the point is the chapel, which is next to the old manor house over by the orchard."

****************
[Goat Rock Villa
OOC: A more technical description of the house is given in the OOC Thread (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=7324445#post7324445)

The woman in white vanished into the house to round up the staff. She let the two officers inspect as they would. The front doorway was almost twelve feet high and protected by an outer iron gate that squeeked when it was pulled open on its hinges. The officers stepped into an interior that was a Rococo fantasy with heavy plaster ornamentation on the walls and ceilings.

As they steped into the marble floored entry hall they were assulted by the smell of cleaning chemicals. A faint remnant of mustiness seemed to linger about the place, like a retreating villian. The villa was undergoing an obvious cleaning session after years of neglect, everything was freshly polished or cleaned, even the walls seemed to shine a bit from a recent scrubing.

Up two marble steps one entered the stair hall. The marble stairs seemed to pour down to the floor expanding and curving each successive step down from a wide landing lit by a large window. The stairs split into curving dual staircases at the landing up to the first floor. (we will use the english floor nomenclature at the moment)

Beyond this room was the salon. Dark fabric covered the walls, a crystal chandiler hung from the ornate cealing, and the room was dominated by a large stone fireplace. Out the windows one could look across the back lawn and see the entire bay, the sea, the lighthouse even the fishing village. It was a 180 degree veiw from the windows. The furniture in the salon was still covered in white sheets.

Off the side of the stair hall and the salon was the living room. A vast space with windows along two walls and fire places in the end walls. The room was sparsely funished with only a few guilded chairs. The sea side terrace could be accessed by several french doors as well as the garden at the front of the house. The cealing had heavy mouldings with a central fresco showing the heavens and small, circular paintings of various notables around the outside

At the far far side of the living room were two doorways. The bay side door opened up into the the billiard room. It had a comparatively low cealing which had beams running from one side to the other. The dark paneling of the room matched the dark pattern of the rug, and the dark mahogany of the oversized billiard table. The room had several brass scones along the wall, nude female figures holding up glass globes made to look like white flames. The obvious male preserve was finished off with a small bathroom tucked behind the fireplace (with a urinal actually) and several trophy heads on the walls. The most notable was the large croc head that appeared to need strucutral framing to stay in place above the fireplace.
The other door off the billiard room opened into a wood paneled hall that ran behind the living room fireplace and to the dining room. An elevator and a niche containing a stern looking marble of Athena also sat off the hallway.

The dining room contained a table that could seat 30 comfortably. And there was another eight dining chairs around the room. One odd fact was that the dominating chair of table wasn't at either end, but at the center, across the table from the fireplace. The south wall was dominated by a hooded white marble fireplace that a short person could walk into without stooping. The other three walls of the room were dominated by massive dark wood sideboards. The room was lit by windows on three sides. Out the front windows one could make out Collins and the men cooling their heels in the drive.

Off of the dining room was a small kitchen. Actually it appeared to have been the butler's pantry with two dumbwaiters in one wall. However, some one had added a four burner range, oven, dishwasher, and a microwave to the space. Under the windows were two sinks, one of some soap stone material (for silver) and the other a standard stainless steel sink. Off the butler's pantry was a service stairs. A door conected the stairs to the hall between the billiard room and the dining room. It was cleverly integrated into the paneling so that it was only noticable if it were open.

A clanging sound from the stairs likely drew the officer's attention towards the basement. The steps were made of iron and dropped down, lit by a subteranian window set in a window well. The air became musty as they desended into the basement and the white tiled hall at the bottom. Under the butler's pantry was the scullery, connected to it by the double dumb waiter system.

Under the dining room was the main kitchen. One wall was set with several ranges and ovens with large stainless steel hoods. A tube went from the top of the hoods to the opposite wall and the base of the chimney for the dining room fireplace. The remainder of the wall was almost completely the opposite wall was almost completely glass above the steel counter tops and the pairs of prep sinks. The far wall had several windows high up in the vault over a set of yellow, wood cabinets and some newer looking glass fronted fridges.

The center of the room had a large, wood table. It was being scrubbed clean by a sixteen year old girl in a blue apron and white cook's uniform. She looked up wide eyed at the two men. The cook, who appeared to be a young asian woman in her thirties, was attempting some repair work on one of the ranges and was swearing up and down vigorously about the condition of units and their "pocking owners" to her young assistant. When the sound of scrubbing stopped, she turned and saw the two men in foreign uniforms. The cook stood upright, crossed her arms and glared at them with steel in her eyes.

Before anything could be said, the 'ding' of the elevator could be heard and the woman in white appeared. She ignored the situation completely and said in a clipped tone, "I need all the staff to gather in the stair hall." The cook nodded, pointed for her assitant to follow the woman, and took up the rear. One could make out the three heading up the iron treads of the service stairs behind them.

The other room off the service stairs, under the billiard room, was the servants hall. It had a small T.V./VCR/DVD combo in one corner of the orce yellow room. There was a couch of indeterminate age and obviously heavy use along one wall. Three round tables had been set up in the center of the white tile floor with folding chairs around them. A table with an urn and some crock pot sat in another corner. A small fridge sat next to it with the words, "Root Beer, 0.60 Kr each".

There was another wood paneled hall almost identical to the one above. It opened onto a bowling alley under the living room. But the space still had cobwebs and dusty. Actually only one of the lights in the room worked, and where the pins and balls were was a mystery.

Off of the kitchen, a narrow, concrete walled hall led back across the front of the house. Off of the hall was a large cooler, a pantry, and a few larders. The cooler was on, but empty except for a leg of lamb and a brace of rabbits with their pelts still on them. The pantry appeared to have several crates stacked up on one side, and a stack of old canned food in the corner. The shelves had been cleaned off, but obviously the restocking was still on the agenda. The larders were all empty. At the far end of the hall was a furnace room, two storage rooms, and a wine cellar. There were several crates in the cellar, but the iron gate into the room was locked.

Getting in the elevator, one would have likely noticed that there was an 'M' clearly indicated on the buttons, between the 'G' and the '1'. Pressing it, the elevator door closed and the unit rose slowly. The elevator door opened on a small space that appeared to be an elevator lobby. The only door off the space was around the side and into a low, titled laundry. Several washing machines and dryers sat stacked along the walls. A long set of ironing tables sat in the middle of the room, with a drycleaning unit on the other side of the tables from the washers and dryers. The near interior wall was made up of wire baskets with labels on them, such as kitchen,clean, red room clean, green room dirty. The room was lite by the fanlight above the pantry window, and one could imagine that it got quite hot in here with a full load of laundry running. A door on the far side of the room opened onto the stair landing.

Across the landing was another door. This opened onto a a small sitting room with a table, a few stuffed chairs, and a worn sofa. There was also a larger screen T.V. with a seperate CD player. Three doors opened off the low space, each had an upper panel of frosted glass that was labled. They read, 'Butler, Hausefrau, and Bath' All of the doors were locked.

At the first floor landing, there were two doors. One opened into a janitor's closet with mops and brooms along one wall and a floor sink at the far end, and the other onto the a wide, well lit hall that ran almost 100 feet to an archway at the far end. There was a cross hall that serviced three bedrooms, a closet, and the elevator.

The sea side bedroom was decorated like the rooms downstairs, plaster strapping on the walls, windows on three sides, and a fire place. The canopied bed seemed quite ornate with netting comming down from the canopy above. The room had a small private bath with tile floor and wainscotting. At the other end of the cross hall was an equally ornate and large room. However, the furniture was military classic. Four iron beds in gray blue enamel paint, four desks, four metal lockers along one wall, and a metal topped table with six chairs was all the furniture in the room. It also had a private bath, with four sets of fresh green towels. The wall above the shower/tub combo was made of glass block.

The other bedroom off the cross hall was simpler and smaller than the two large bedrooms. It was paneled with dark green panelling below ochre walls. The furniture was made of paneled wood, the bathroom actually did not have any exterior walls, the only natural light came in from the glass block over the shower/tub combination.

There were three moderate sized (well for this house) bedrooms overlooking the bay off of the main hall. Each had it's orignial ornate furniture with a metal institutional bed and desk added. The three bedrooms shared two bathrooms between them, such that the middle bedroom had acess to both bathrooms.

At the end of the main hall was the archway that opened into the upper main stairs hall, and a small alcove with double doors, and two smaller sets of flanking doors. One flanking door revealed a ceder closet, the other a second set of service stairs going up. The double doors opened into a large bedroom. This was appointed in the same manner as on the other side of the villa with a large canopied bed, but the private bath was huge. It was 12 feet by 12 feet of art deco madness. The shower actually looked like some form of tourcher device in chrome and black tile. The tub appeared large enough for three and their was both a toilet, bidet, and a urinal all with gold fittings. The fact that one of the light switches started the overhead light figure to turn and small lights over the tub to flash on and off seemed a bit disconserting.

The final two rooms on this floor were both off of the stair hall. One was apparently a girls room with walls covered in blue bears and pink ballerinas dancing with happy bright stars. The room was equiped with two, large painted beds, and a pair of metal desks and standing lockers. The two children's wardrobes were pushed to one side. The room had a bath, in pink everything was pink. The other bedroom was like the small one across the hall, and appointed exactly the same.

The service stairs led to the top floor of the villa. The twenty or so rooms on this floor were small with a two by two foot window lighting each. Each room was equiped with a plain iron bed, a small wardrobe, and a wash stand. The rooms shared two cramp bathrooms between them. The narrow hall ended at the main set of service stairs running all the way down to the basement.

By the time the two officers had inspected the villa, the staff was standing at the bottom of the stairs. There was the oriental appearing chef, and her assistant, a young head butler, two footmen, and six maids.

The woman was speaking, "Now, you will respect the wishes of these…visitors…without comment. Or you shall answer to me…"

"yes Swordsman…" one of the maids replied. The swordsman heard the footsteps on marble steps above and turned to the two men. "Ah, the staff is ready to be inspected and interviewed at your convenience.

She produced a small cd,"...this contains their full background checks, we sent a copy to Mrs. Lancaster a few weeks ago."

She handed off the CD and waited for Gurings next move.

Reading you, Squall Straight Air Control. This is flight Delta, Bravo, Mike, Hotel, One, Seven, Eight, Nine. Requesting flight plan to the Isle of Caddray and landing clearance. Over

Delta, Bravo, Mike, Hotel, One, Seven, Eight, Nine. We have been informed by The Outer Ministry that you are clear to enter the Caddray Island Security Cordon. Please travel at Two seven eight point five degrees for three one zero miles until you come to radar bouy Alpaha Alpha Tango. We have a tanker there to refuel. You will then proceede at course zero zero six for another two zero nine miles. You will are then authorized to land on the carrier Broyhill for transfer of personel to a water landing capable craft. Over

OOC: A Hind doesn't have the range even with external tanks...I hope you can do mid-air refueling.

*****
The Elizabeth
The old warhorse was being finicky today. The wind was a bit blustery and kept on switching back and fourth by amost four full points. Of course it was the challenge to keep the armored sailing ship on course and at maximum speed that drove the acting sailing master.

The crew, even with a modern winch set and sailing gear, was not so enthused. First, the young women and men, elite cadets of the naval academy, would have prefered running the massive steam engines (and the relativly easy to use modern boilers) rather than spend hours changing the tac of the sails on the square rigger.

But in the Navy, the man in charge was always right. Espcially when he happened to be your Leige Lord and Soverign. Even if he was a bit crazy in the head for trying to sail a warship in this kind of wind when he had a perfectly good set of engines.

Actually, a few of them 'got it'. They too had the sailing bug. But they were not about to say anthing in front of their fellows. Nope, the idea of being tied up in one's hammock held no appeal for them.

Captain Thomas was more bemused than anything. Being the captain of the royal yacht had taught him that the Crawfords were both insane and genious at the same time. He had failed to properly read the wind three times this voyage and would have wound her up in chains. Nope, besides being my boss, he happens to be a better judge of sailing conditions than me. Of course, that didn't bother Thomas much. The men and women who guided the Elizabeth safely had a record of getting flag rank after their assignments here.

The steward came out onto the stern deck with another bottle of premium scotch, and a bucket of ice. He wasn't sure if he should, but one tended not to argue with his Grace's guests. Although with young Elizabeth, he might have just attempted to scold for her obvious heavy spiking of her ice tea, even if she was a dreaded 'Black Tab.' But not infront of of the Wal-Vrak.

Orith Hagwonak enjoyed the view from the stern of the Elizabeth. He, like his kind, would rather be frolicking in the sea diving for clams rather than attending the business of state. But, as it was, he was here and so decided to make the best of it. His natural cooler head, unlike his older brother Ipshi, would probably be better suited for the upcoming talks. Still, he was a bit uneasy.

"You say, Markgravine, that most of the issues had already been discussed and agreed upon? I think our position, and here I mean Vrak not the office of the FKC, although I think the Secretary himself will come later, is that we want to know exactly where Glorious Humanity stands in regards to ICBMs being launched by their pakrah neighbours. As well, what do they call themselves? Humanites? Humanitarians? Odd."

Spying the scotch, he immediately begin to heavily spike the ice tea.

"I think the general postion is that they think the entire mess is full of...ah...poor judgements on both sides. Since they share such a large border and trade postion with Drakonia they are not going to agrivate the relationship by making any formal comments on Drakonia's ICBM policy."

The Markgravine looked up at the sails changing postion. "I know that the Vrakians know that Drakonia's ICBM policy is ludicrous but really we can't blame the government of Glorious Humanity for the idiocy of its neighbor can we?"

She shook her head, "No we need to bury the hachet and start with a level playing feild between us, then we can likely help them reduce the possiblity of either of us getting the fall out from another criminally negligent act by the Drakonians."

She sipped her tea, "We need establish trust first, they are as xenophobic as the Deyllbians it appears. This mutual non-agression pact will go a long way in establishing that trust. And it further weakens the Drakonians from any possible retaliation, as they see it, against us."

She leaned back, "If Drakonia becomes even more erratic in behavior we may become even closer to Glorious Humanity...I can't begin to contemplate the advantages of them seeing us as a more stable, trustworthy nation than the Draks...And I don't know what to call them actually. I'm just going to stay with the formal and not attempt to go into any 'ites' as it may be completely off the board. I mean people from the region of Indiana are called Hoosiers rather than indianians..."

Orith tilted his great head as he considered the Markgravine's words.

"Vrak is not looking for Glorious Humanity to condemn their neighbour outwardly. What we are looking for is what they will do if the blokk pakrah nation of Drakonia decides to launch an ICBM. Our policy is quite clear in regards to ICBM launches. I guarantee you that Vrak will punish Drakonia quite severely if Drakonia ever decides to launch an ICBM at any Klatchian interests. We want clarification on Glorious Humanity's stance. I suppose I could broaden this out to include any encroachment by Drakonia upon Klatchian interests."

A pause as Orith cast his eyes over the sea. Then, almost to himself.

"After all, it seems that we get blamed for the actions of the Dyellians."

The Elizabeth
The Markgravine leaned forward and put some more scotch in her tea. "They do not want nukes inbound for Drakonia, period. Being next to a nuclear wasteland is on no one's agenda. Perhaps we can get them to convince the Drakonians that a conventional warhead on an ICBM makes as much tatical sense as a arming a submarine with air to air missles. It might do something but the likelyhood of anything tactically advantagous is slim."

She sat back, "I would say that the outlined mutual non-agression treaty is such that if Drakonia involves itself in Klatchian buisness they don't want to have any part of it. Of course they might be forced to intervene if we were to attack Drakonia...involvement in third party conflicts is allowed."

She shrugged, "All I ask is if they give you an unsatisfactory answer don't asume that it really is unsatisfactory, they may be evasive rather than being seen as too freindly towards us. Let the back channels try to settle the sticking points rather than have us primaries, with our ego's and political postions to worry about start hurling insults."

The blond stood up for a second and walked to the rail, shouting over the moving water below her, "I just don't want this to turn into Nekoa Bay II, with us throwing insults like a bunch of fifth graders in a playground fight."

Orith’s eyes narrowed and he softly growled.

“Have a care, Markgravine. We do not insult anyone lightly nor do we put up with it long from anyone. We are hear for peace, so we shall await to hear what the Glorious Humanity people have to say.”

With that, the walrus then remained silent and brooded.

"Oh, stop brooding...if it gets near a insult fest again our negotators will order a break and we can get the offending party to stop acting like a brat. I should remind you that the Dyellians tended to be the one's throwing the insults around...and me..." she grimiced a bit.

"No one is asking a Vrakian to swollow his honor, or that of the King. And no one is accusing you of lightly throwing insults. Especially not an Alconian, and definately not a member of the House of Crawford. Have we not stood buy you in times of trouble? You think we would let some pahkrah nation insult his majesty?"

She shook her head, "I wish to point out that we need to be careful about assuming an insult is an intended insult. We should use our back channels, to see what the otherside was really thinking."

She sat down net to the Walrus, "what I do not want is some unintended slight to throw a wrench into the works like Nekoa Bay. Calling my sister 'Miss Landgravine' threw things off balance and it just got worse from there. Now, all I ask is that if you bring a point up and don't get a satisfactory answer see what the back channel answer is before we get off on some side track neither side can retreat from. Our negotating team is our scouting party, you are a tank column in this. You don't send a tank column down a road you haven't scouted first, so let me send in the scouts before we find were taking the road to timbuktu and not Pasadena."

"Or are you going to sit there glaring at me for the next two hours because you think I intentionally insulted you..." She gave that charming wry smile, "...when I was refering to the general discription of the negotations at Nekoa bay and not specifically to the actions of certian a Vrakian Diplomat. I think that is sort of the kettle calling the tea-cup black." The Markgravine pointed to herself as being the kettle.

(OOC: The first draft of this post was eaten by the board, and the second was written at 4:15 AM, so apologies for any omissions or mistakes.)

Lancaster accepted the flower and sniffed it delicately. She was sure Paul did not really understand the reason for the small smile that flashed across her face as she examined it, recalling a Lavenrunzian custom involving the color of flowers. Red for love and lust, pink for deep affection, white was... friendship, if I recall. Real friendship. She wasn't sure if Paul fell into that category yet, though she was thinking he might soon.

"Well, I was born in the Carth Mountains in western Glorious Humanity. My hometown was a fair-sized place called Pelior." She set the flower carefully in her hair as she continued speaking. "The people in Dulles tend to think us mountain folk odd, but I've never seen any sign that I'm any odder than they are. Our eccentricities just run in different directions. My father was a police officer, and my mother raised me. I had a standard life until my father was killed."

She paused now, looking out at the ocean without seeing it, the same way Paul had been doing earlier. "I was fourteen. After he died, Mother and I couldn't stand to stay in Pelior. Too many reminders and memories. We moved out of the mountains and went to a city called Kingston in central GH. When I turned sixteen, the age of adulthood in my country, I moved to Dulles to find something to do with my life. I liked the idea of being a peacemaker, so I've found my way into diplomacy. Peace is a great cause to strive for, don't you agree?"

Her eyes refocused on him, and she smiled softly. "That's a pretty good summary of my life so far. No fancy stories to tell I'm afraid."

**********************************************************

"Sweet," Pierce answered. Millhouse seconded the request. "That's a long time," Pierce commented to Jenssen with a smile. "I doubt I could trace my family back that far, then again Pierce is a pretty common last name. Finding my exact family history would be quite a challenge." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Then again, you know... when I get back home, maybe I'll take a swing at it. It would be an interesting diversion from my normal work."

"I can trace my family back two hundred years," Millhouse put in. "Unfortunately there isn't much in it. We've never been very prominent."

"Mine wasn't either until this generation," Pierce chuckled. "President Albert moved a lot of things around when he took office."

**********************************************************

"Thank you," Guring nodded as he accepted the small CD. He didn't need to peruse its contents right now, as the background data had been supplied to him by International Relations as part of his mission information. Slowly he walked up and down the line of servants, looking each of them over with the same meticulous gaze that he inspected his soldiers with. He methodically matched names to faces, cataloguing and filing away a mental list of everyone, as well as taking note of any small cues to their current moods and personalities that their bodies and faces conveyed.

When he was done he stood at the center of the line and took three steps back so that he could take the whole group in with a single look. Ames stood just behind his superior, standing at ease while he waited for Guring to finish.

"My named is Lieutenant Colonel Barry Guring," he began. "For the next few days, my soldiers and I will be staying in this villa. We're probably going to be pretty easy people to work for, and you seem like a capable group. I expect you to carry out all tasks and duties quickly and efficiently with a minimum of fuss."

"Things are probably going to be run a little differently than you are used to, since I'm a soldier, not a nobleman. If I or my soldiers do anything that seems odd to you, just chalk it up to our foreign quirks. We're going to be disciplined and professional. Problems come to me or Captain Ames here. Now I think you should see the people you'll be serving. Captain, call the troops in."

Ames nodded and whistled, three quick, sharp whistles. There was an answer from outside, and a few seconds later the Guards were formed up in the main hall.

"Corporal Michaels, step forward," Guring ordered. A woman near the middle of the front row took a large step forward and stood at attention. Guring turned slightly to address De'Vaux. "This is Corporal Katherine Michaels. I noticed during my inspection of the kitchen that you have a busted range. She will help you repair it." He looked around the servants again. "Well, I believe that concludes this meeting. You are all dismissed to return to your regular duties. Corporal Michaels, go with the cook, and see what you can do to help."

"Yes sir," Michaels answered, saluting smartly. She seemed to be in her late twenties, about five feet ten inches, with a decent build for a woman in her profession. Her hair was a little longer than the buzz cuts most of the men sported, long enough to show that it was a deep, rich red. She had green eyes set in an expressionless face that appeared to be accustomed neither to smiling or frowning. Guring knew she was a decent handywoman, and figured she could take care of whatever was wrong. Given the background of the assistant cook, he figured things would run more smoothly if men just stayed out of the kitchen as much as possible.

"Or are you going to sit there glaring at me for the next two hours because you think I intentionally insulted you..." She gave that charming wry smile, "...when I was refering to the general discription of the negotations at Nekoa bay and not specifically to the actions of certian a Vrakian Diplomat. I think that is sort of the kettle calling the tea-cup black." The Markgravine pointed to herself as being the kettle.

Orith blinked and shook his head.

"No, I will not be angry with you Markgravine. But, if it's all the same to you, I would like to be alone for a few minutes. Just leave the bottle."

He looked out again at the sea, his brow furrowing.


OOC: Ack! I just realized that Orith is also on board the LOW ship. Hmm. Fluid time I suppose will work here.

Georgia might have noticed that there wasn't any red flowers on the dune, a good deal of yellow and blue but not much white. And a real expert on Alconian affaris would have noted they still used the victorian meanings for flowers, and flower color.

Paul listened attentively, one part of his mind recording the conversation so he could repeat it verbatim, in the back of his mind a checklist was being marked off birthplace...hometown... the mention of her father and the obvious painful memories threw the gears out of alighnment. Your not in that buisness anymore now just be a regular guy

He nodded at her comment about people from the 'hills'. "Truly...nothing unusual in that...most people are not quite so...willing to admit their own eccentricies as being that." He continued to led them and stopped for a second a a large rock.

"This is where the bath down to the sandy beach begins. Just remember you might have to deal with some giant otters sunning themselves in the morning. Luckily they are not dangerous unless you annoy them."

"Peace, peace can have such relative meanings...and some people strive for Power far more than they care for peace...I guess I spent too many years watching young men and women die for various causes, usually because someone out there wanted peace with a few others in bonds to do all the gritty work for them..."

He stopped on his track, "sorry...I'm a bit jadded these days. I guess I've seen too many people offer peace with the condition of someone being over the proveribal barrel so they can....Well you see the point. Not as though you are attempting to offer peace on those terms...Peace with equality is quite acceptable."

"Now here we have an attractive diplomat who doesn't lead an exciting life? Travelling to exotic lands, meeting exotic people...Are you sure you don't have tails of some potentate seeing you and asking you to join his harrem as his new favorate wife. Or some poor, sex starved Ambassador trying to decide weather to hit on you or pump you for information....And here I was thinking that the life of a diplomat was glorious and exciting..." He gave a shrug...

"Another fantasy shattered on the hard rocks of truth..." He was obviously being somewhat sarcastic on that last bit. He smiled at her with humor in his eyes.

He pointed to a small gazebo at the end of the dunes looking down on the long finger of gravel and rocks that streched out and vanished under the waves. "Ah, well it does seem that the Admiral will take an occasional suggestion, that happens to be new"

Just off the end of the point was a small island, or a very large rock, with a white and dark green lighthouse apparently cut into the rock.
"You know...I wanted to be a lighthouse keeper when I was a boy. Seemed so romantic, living out there...I was about eight when my grandfather passed away and suddenly I was face to face with the fact that I had other responsiblities...looking back I realize that my mother was trying to give me a 'normal' childhood. Although, really who's got a normal childhood?"

They stopped at the steps leading up to the screen door on the gazebo. He opened it for her, and said, "Ladies first..." It was a pleasent space with a sweeping veiw of the ocean, the bay, the lighthouse, the small gunboats running up and down the harbor. A few small sail boats in the bay, and off in the distance a patch of white on the edge of the sea.

**************
"You didn't grow up with all of your major ancestors entombed under where you went to church each sunday with their names engrved into the stone walls..." She pointed out to Peirce. "It's not unusual for landed families to tend to have all their remains put in one spot, and to keep a detailed family history. I guess we always adspired somewhat to the english gentry in the first place so our tendency to hold on to property aways was a factor..."

The two sweet teas appeared and Adams moved off. "My family has tended to have great men and decidely black sheep...I've had a few ancestors who found crossing the Crawfords was a very bad idea after the fact. I'd say we have a colorful history if I didn't happen to be the heir to all the good and bad."

***********
(OOC: You realize your ministers are staying there as well?)

De'Vaux sniffed at the staff broke up to return to their duties. She motioned the corporal to follow her. At the service staisr she stopped, shook her head and said, "Corporal, like a good deal of officers your Mr. Guring has assumed much on little actual data. Unless you know how to either speed up the rate the dissolution of water into propane to dry out a neglected gas line of condensed humidity, or how to properly adjust the settings on a thirty year old range to switch it from natural gas to propane, or magically can get years of cresote and who knows what off the adjustment screws I would suggest you find other duties. I can assign some if you desire but I doubt you do. Oh, and tell your compatriots that they can stay out of my kitchen unless they ask for permission." She addressed the corporal in a mild tone but with obvious authority. She kept Sargent Majors in line she could keep some foreign corporal from getting in the way.

"And when someone wishes to discuss meal plans they inquire for me in the kitchen..." She added as her and the assistant vanished.

The maids went upstairs to finish cleaning the last bedroom. The footman and the bulter went into the Salon to finish up that room of the house.

(OOC) Just assuming the Dyelli Beybians managed to get there in one piece so as to speed the RP up a little.

The hind finally touched down on the Broyhill, where the Commisaar and police escort stepped out to gladly stretch their legs.

"Vlademir Dzerzhinsky, Political Officer Third Class, I'm here representing Dyelli Beybi." he introduced himself to the reception commitee. (OOC: Just assuming there is one).

In truth for Vlademir, this was more than just a mission to represent Dyelli Beybi, he was angling for the position of Intelligence Minister of the entire Federation, the State Government had nominated him for the position, however no vote had eventuated yet. This was an opportunity to meet with some of the Federation's more important officials, and perhaps get in their good books, which could possibly aid in appointment to Federal Government, he was just hoping the Landgravine had forgotten their meeting during the Nekoa Bay Negotiations. He'd been ordered to basically spoil the negotiations, and he thought he'd done a relatively good job, after he'd taken charge of Dyelli Beybi's delegation they had collapsed.

Lancaster laughed. "Exciting? My life is exciting because I get to travel to exotic locations and meet fascinating people, and occaisionally find new friends. Every so often along comes a handsome, charming baron who is kind enough to show me around. But no actually, not too many men make passes at me. Why do you think I dress this way?" She indicated her unrevealing clothes.

"Far too many women make their careers on their physical attractiveness. Myself, I would much rather be remembered for what's in here-" she tapped her forehead. "-than what's down here." She passed a hand over her chest. "When people remember me, I want them to remember who I am, not my cup size."

She stepped into the gazebo and stood staring out at the ocean quietly for a moment. Absently, she pushed her hair back from her face again, focusing on the small white patch in the distance, trying to decide if it was a cloud or a sailing ship.

**********************************************************

"We've never had problems with family struggles, at least not in a violent sense. Lots of political intrigue, but I guess that's one of the prices of our system," Pierce shrugged. "We don't have a titled nobility, but only a fool would say we don't have an aristocracy. Ours is just determined by money and political connections."

"Then again," Millhouse noted. "If you think about it, that's how all systems of power are. The particulars, such as titles, may vary, but gaining prominence is all about knowing the right people, being in the right place, and doing the right things to get attention."

"A right big load of money doesn't hurt, either," Pierce chuckled.

"No, I suppose it does not. Still though, I think it's more about who you know than what you have," she answered.

"I think we just started a debate that's going to last a while," Pierce commented to Jenssen. "This ought to make the flight home quite interesting."

**********************************************************

(OOC: To avoid too much OOC chatter here, check the OOC topic.)

Corporal Michaels stood for a moment, then shrugged and turned on her heel to go report to Guring.

Guring, meanwhile, was briefing his soldiers. "For the next hour I will be dealing out room assignments. You will all have the rest of today to familiarize yourselves with this complex, starting tomorrow morning you will all have assignments. I don't care if we have a servant staff, you all are going to pull your weight in keeping this place solid." There were two reasons for this. One, it would not allow his soldiers to get bored, and two, putting them on menial tasks all over the villa would dramatically increase surveillance by spreading eyes he could trust into every nook and cranny.

"When the current security team is relieved in two hours, another team will take over. I will also be assigning the next three shifts, and I advise the night crews to get some sleep now. Sergeant Collins, step forward."

Collins did so. Guring addressed him personally now. "You will return to the manor immediately and begin your liason duties. You will be our link to the Alconan command, and if they need help, you will provide it. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Collins answered shortly, saluting.

"Sir, I request permission to accompany the sergeant back to the manor," Ames spoke up. "I need to speak with someone there."

"One of ours?" Guring asked with mild curiousity.

"Not exactly sir," Ames answered truthfully.

Guring nodded. "Permission granted. You return here by 2200 hours. As long as you're over there, I want you to inspect the guards on duty and report their condition when you return. In the event of any problems, you are in command."

"Yes sir," Ames answered, then he and Collins strode out of the room.

The Elizabeth
"Fine, just remeber this is thrity year old scotch, and it has a bit of a kick if you drink it strait..." The Markgravine gave a polite short bow to the Ambassador and went up to the upper gun deck. She stopped at the rail next to her father.

"Daddy, I think I did it again..."

"Hmmm..." The Duke's attention was focused on the pennant on the foremast. It was running strait and true at the moment.

"I upset the Vrakians this time..."

"I've got to find you a husband...soon..." He commented to the sky.

***********
The Gazebo
Paul sat down, his back pointed strait south. His eyes seemed to be focused on her face for a moment, and then he rotated his head to look out at the white patch. As he pulled a thin case from a pocket and began to open it up he commented, "Not to be too bold, but personally, your eyes happen to be your most striking feature. And beware, some societies value intelligent women who don't flaunt their beauty."

He finished opening the case, turning it into a small pair of bonoculars. He looked through them for a moment, and then held them towards Georgia. "It is the Elizabeth. I'd say the wind has finally settled down. She should pick up speed and be running for port at full speed soon..."

**********
The Hall
Jenssen listened to the debate. "I'm afraid that Alconian political philosophy is considerably diffrent. We tend to view power as being linked with responsiblities. As such influence is important but not considered power in and of itself. Influence is impotent unless you have someone with power you can influence."

She sat back, "Of course this house was built to help my forebears actually influence people with power, or other people with power. Make them sympathetic to your cause, ply them with wine, dancing, good food, good hunting, and good company to make them more ameniable to you and your causes."

She looked up at the massive fireplace. "So knowing the right people is only half the battle in the game of influence." She looked back down at her guests, "The real ability is to make them desire to help you.

She tilted her head in thought, "Of course that happens to be the real caustic to any system. People enjoy the privilages of power, and the attempts to influence them, far more than the responsibility that comes with power. I guess that is one goal of the House of Crawford, to use their defacto social and ecconomic position to all but control those privilages and punish those who don't meet their responsiblities, and raise those who exceed at them. "

*******
The Villa
The bus was waiting to be unloaded. The woman in white had all but vanished again.

The Broyhill
A naval lieutenant pointed to a Rotodyene not far away. "We will just directly transfer you sir. We'd appreciate it if you left someone in command of your roto craft as we may need to clear the deck in an emergency..."

The youth led them to the Rotodyene and got the delegation settled, "You'll be land side in about thrity minutes gentlemen..."

The whine of the engines decreased suddenly as the passenger door closed and the unit raised up in the air to cross the last bits of the Bosh.

Lancaster blushed faintly at his compliment. "Ah, thank you. You are kind to say so." Mentally she reevaluated how much time she'd be spending with various people. It might be worth her while to devote a little more time to Paul than she had originally planned.

She smiled at him as she accepted the binoculars. Her eyes locked onto his and stayed focused there for a couple seconds before she looked away, peering through the binoculars at the Elizabeth. She actually knew very little about sailing ships, having grown up in the mountains and then moved to the center of the country. She was very familiar with water, but not so much with the sea itself. It seemed to her that the ship was doing alright at the moment.

"So, do you see anything wrong with the way that ship is being handled yet?" she asked him as she passed the bioculars back, careful not to stare into his eyes again.

**********************************************************
(OOC: Speed up. Quick note: the soldiers all took their gear in with them, so the bus can leave if it wishes.)

"Sounds like a fairly good system," Pierce said approvingly. "Some might take exception to one group holding all the power, but if there is no central authority, then there is no authority. Good or bad, someone must be in charge."

"Strong authority builds strong society," Millhouse quoted from one of several books written by Jonas Mason. Pierce thought he recognized which political volume it came from, but the name escaped him at the moment.

As he was trying to recall it, the doors opened again, and Ames entered the room, saluting the Ministers. Pierce again returned the salute, and again Ames' mouth twitched.

"What brings you back here?" Pierce asked.

"Troop inspection," Ames answered. "And I was hoping to have a word with Lady Jenssen."

"Oh, by all means," Pierce said. The twinkle in his eyes and the half-smiles on his lips suggested he had some idea what words Ames wanted to have with Jenssen. "We're just making small talk. If you two can find something entertaining to do until the rest of the party arrives, go ahead."

Ames was about ninety percent certain Pierce did not mean anything perverted with his remark, but that didn't stop the Guard's cheeks from reddening a little.

Paul just sat there and admired her beauty Wonderful...I do hope the Humanitarians have been kind enough for her not to have a beau back home...

He took the unit back from her and looked back through them again. "No, but I have a strange feeling that the honor roll middie's are likely wondering why they worked so hard to get into the top of their class." He laughed a little at that, "the best and brightest of the 3rd form cadets are usually assigned to the Elizabeth for their 4th form. And considering the handling experience, and long hours working her sails, they get run ragged."

He turned back to her..."And there you have the real oddity of Alconian Society, we force more duty and responsiblity on the shoulders of those who demonstrate ability. Most militarys of the world do that, few societies demand it at almost all levels...or maybe were just a bit close minded." His eyes had wandered back towards the manor house for a moment.

"So do you have any hobbies besides swimming?" He returned his attention to her.

***********
Jenssen smiled slightly at the interuption. "If you will excuse us..." She led Ames without a word through one of the far doors out of the hall, across a low, barral valulted ante-chamber and into the drawing room. She stopped in the doorway and gave him a look that promised a lot of sudden physical activity.

As he approached her, she took his arm, slid closed the door behind them and led him near the fireplace.

There Jenssen suddenly put one foot behind his near leg, and cut it out from under him. She took a sudden, firm grip on his arm and thew him into one of the two sofa's fanking the massive ornamental fireplace. She followed, leaning forward with one leg on the floor and a knee on the sofa. She gave Ames a deep pasionate kiss, stopped, and nuzzled his chest for a second.

Jenssen pulled back and looked at him, her eyes filled with both anger and passion. "You have got to have the worst timing of any well born male I have ever met...I've got guests to be a host to. Now here you are wanting to talk? Ugh...men...and why in the hell did you let that Collins fellow stay here...hmm? There is an opening ten foot wide and..."

She dropped her hand onto his chest, the anger and passion turned into saddness "I really can't leave my guests pondering the world in the Great Hall alone so...spit it out Captain."

"A few," she replied. "I read a great deal, and I enjoy good stimulating conversation. In the outdoors, I go hiking. Even near Dulles, there are rainforests only a few hours away from the city. Sometimes I feel the need to be away from civilization for a while, so I go walk one of the short trails for an afternoon."

She turned to face him, leaning against the railing. "I'm afraid I'm generally not one for great socializing and partying. That may seem very unnatural in my line of work, but beyond a couple of my favorite restaurants there's very little in the city that interests me. I guess it is one of the peculiarities of a mountain girl."

She found herself enjoying his attention in spite of herself. It was rather pleasant to talk with someone who was interested in her personally instead of her political stances. Especially when the interested person was such a handsome man.

This is ironic. I was worried that Ames' relationship would hurt our diplomatic positions, and now I'm the one in such a position. Not romance, she amended hastily to herself. I have known this man all of a few hours. This is not a romance... yet.

**********************************************************

"Nice to see you too dear," Ames grinned wryly. "You know I missed you."

He adjusted himself a little. "Well, I will try to cut this short... though I'm tempted to ramble for a while just to stay in your company." He winked at her, then the grin faded. "Putting Collins here was Guring's call, and well... it didn't occur to me at the time about the possibilities for us. I guess I am blockheaded like that. Still, my CO decided, and putting up my name would've required explaining at least a little of the reason I wanted this post, and do we really want that yet?"

He sat up enough to kiss her lightly. "Maybe I can make it up to you a little though. Guring's going to be dealing out guard assignments, which basically means we all draw for shifts. I learned a long time ago how to fix those drawings to get whatever shift I wanted. Tonight, I could pull night shift and while I'm wandering around I don't see why I couldn't come over here. Check on Collins, make sure whoever pulls guard duty on Lancaster is doing their job... and spend a little quiet time with you after everyone has gone to bed and there's no one to interrupt us. Would that pacify you a little?"

Paul looked at her with a wry smile, "Enjoys the country more than the city and a quite life...Are you sure that your not the grandaughter of some gentry family of the Isles?" He chuckled for a moment as the thought of the lyrics Thank God for country girls...
"I mean all you need is four years of military service, an annoying habit of wanting eveything stir fried...actually drop that. But no wonder Kat was comfortable with you in er...well I apparenlty just tipped my hand in that didn't I?"

He looked out back towards the now decernable ship. "Well, you can question why I know about the Knootian meeting as we walk to the docks. It would appear his Grace has figured out how to make the Lizzy do sixteen knots in this breeze. And personally, I don't want to be late for his arrival."

He stood up and offered Lancaster his arm again. "But I do think you will enjoy your time here...the libary at Lake Point Manor is quite diverse."

**********
She looked at Ames and just shook her head, "You need to figure out if your spark'n with me or court'n me...Although part of me would say yes...I should point out that his Grace's personal detail will be about, and Elizabeth."

She cocked her head in thought, "Now if you arranged to go on an inspection detail of the nearby miltia armories and ready teams tommorow morning, well then I know a quite little spot we can have a nice picnic lunch..." And I can figure out if your ready for any kind of real commitment to me.

Lancaster raised a brow at his comment as she accepted his arm. "No, I don't think I am... then again, who knows?" She smiled at him as they started out again. Briefly, she looked out towards the ship. "I guess his Grace will be getting a more favorable review of his ship's handling than you originally thought?"

She nodded at the mention of the library. "I believe I shall. Most likely I will start with this country's history. I have always enjoyed learning about how the trials of time and the world have shaped nations."

She winced slightly and stepped a little more carefully. High heels were not meant for long walks. That's what I get for deciding I had to dress formally today. Good for making impressions, bad for anything else. She wondered if it would be alright to at least change her shoes when they returned to the manor, then dismissed the idea. She could endure them until the formalities were over.

**********************************************************

Ames nodded. "Done then. I shall see you tomorrow." He wondered why she made special mention of this Elizabeth, but decided not to inquire. Instead he planted another kiss on her lips, this one deep and suggesting more than just light affection.

"Well then, I guess you get to go back to your entertaining," he said then. "I'd get up, but you kind of have me pinned at the moment."

Paul nodded, "Well yes, old rivalry really between those who went to Vandergraff and those who went to Blake. He was captian of the sailing team the same year I was..."

They were now walking north, along the ridge that fell down into a bluff along the edges of the bay. "He's gotten much better at handling a square rig over the years. I still perfer a ketch rigged boat myself..."

The path desended down the side of the ridge towards a long builing built up along a rock outcropping. It looked somewhat old with a rubble stone base and the old clapboard walls had three rows of small, multi-light windows. The path crossed a small bridge as they neared the building.

"As for history books...your more likely to find historical books...but really I've tended to stay towards novels and fiction myself. Of course the Outer Ministry has always held that one should read up on a nation's history before you conduct buisness with it...Is your department the same way?"

Futher conversation was drowned out by the waterfall that fell down the steep side of the ridge and under the stone bridge. Several more spouts of water poured into the pool of water below from several arched openings beneith the building. The smell of cinnamon was also strong as they walked underneith several large pipes that crossed from a concrete wall to the building.

On the other side of the building revealed what could best be described as a village. Wooden clapboard warehouses about three stories stood on the opposite side of a large, stone paved square. The square sloped down towards the sea. At The 'high' or west end was a long two story brick building. On the roof was an octanganal bell tower. The huge green bell seemed unmoved by the wind, although the man standing next to it appeared to be swaying a bit.

At the 'low', or east end of the square was a row of narrow brick houses built above low stone arches.

The square was filled with people. Most who seemed to be milling about waiting for something to occur. A line of wooden baracades ran down the square from the west end to the corner where the north and east sides met.

As Paul stopped to see if he could chart a course through the crowd, the bell began to toll. "Ah, now then the Lizzy has just passed the headland. We have about thirty minutes before she'll get into the inner harbor and dock. Personally I could use a drink..."

He led her forward, through the crowd to a man in a gray uniform standing by the barricade. The militiamen looked at Paul, nodded and moved the baracade to let them both pass over to the other side. "I hope you don't mind taking a quick step into the Admiral's pub?" He asked Georgia.

***********
Jenssen raised herself and unpinned him. "Now then...." The sound of the bell could even be heard in here. "Ah, well I need to get everyone ready and down to the dock. I will see you tommorow, six a.m. She turned and returned to the Hall.

"Ah, his Grace's yacht has been seen crossing the headland so we had best orginize ourselves for the welcoming ceremony. Does anyone need to freshen up before we depart for the dock?...Adams, make sure my grandfather heard the bell..."

"Yes my lady..."

"I guess so, as long as you do not expect me to drink too much," she replied. She smirked. "You probably should not drink too much either. I doubt it would make the right impression on your old rival if your taunts were indecipherable and you tripped over your own feet walking up to him."

"In answer to your question, no, that's not policy," she continued, returning to the topic. "It's more of a personal hobby of mine. History is a fascinating subject to me. Still though, I read a lot of fiction, mostly political stories, occaisionally science fiction. Every so often I even find myself in the mood for a romance novel." She chuckled. "Even as generally overdramatic as they are. Do you have a favorite author or genre?"

Intelligent, educated, and cultured, she thought. I'm really going to have to watch myself around him.

**********************************************************

"I think I'm good to go," Pierce answered, standing up and stretching. "I'll just walk around a bit and work some energy back into my limbs."

Millhouse had produced a makeup compact from somewhere in her outfit and was checking herself in the little mirror. "Ah, I believe a bit of freshening up would do me some good," she answered with a smile. "Where could I go to do so?"

Paul smirked a bit, "I think you need to be wary of the Vrakians then...they are not know for being tetotalers..." Between the warehouses there was another structure of similar design but actually stood forward into the square. The buildings lower floor was an arcade filled in with large windows. There was no signage about the place, just the pale yellow paint and bright white trim like the rest of the buildings.

Paul pushed through a heavy oaken door into the high, slightly smoke filled space. The room was furnished in dark wood with tables and chairs about the space. At the far end of the room were several windows that appeared to look out over the inner harbor. A large bar ran along one side of the space. The bar surrounded the bottom of an enclosed staircase that rose from the far wall up into the center of the cealing of the room.

The nearby tables were filled with several men and women of varying age. They had the appearence of the working class, little make up, faces and hands had that edige of hardness from being exposed for years to the wind and the sea. Most looked like they were wearing their sunday best, semi-expensive suits and summer dresses. Most observers would have labled the place a respectable working man's pup; nothing fancy just well built and practical seemed to be the order of the day. The group was focused on drinking their ales and watching some sports game. Their eyes didn't seem to deviate much from the screen of a large T.V. hanging from the cealing in the front corner of the room.

A few sets of eyes were distracted by the sound of the front door bell. They looked at Paul and Georgia, then took a harder, second look. Elbows and wispers drew more eyes from the T.V. screen to the entering pair.

Paul walked over to the bar and cleared his throat to gain the attention of the bar keep. The bar keep was watching the sports event on the television like everyone else. But he noticed the polite cough and the hard stares of people on the other side of the bar. The burley man refocused his attention on the new customers.

He walked over to Paul and Georgia and said in a firm, quiet and polite voice, "This is a private establishment sir..."

Paul assumed a reasonable tone, "I would think you would be open for visitors on this great day, his Grace is visiting the Admiral himself..."

"Listen you'll call him Baron, and you and your wife will get outside...before..."
Anger crept into the bar keep's voice, obviously annoyed by Paul not instantly turning tail.

"We only desire some refreshment, you wouldn't begrudge us taking a bit of beverage out would you?" Paul interupted, trying to appear reasonable.

A deep bitterness filled the bar keep's still quiet voice as he became more strident "I have tried to be polite, now leave in peace or I'll have the boys escort you out" He turned, and said to the rest of the bar, "Adel twit..."

"You would throw a knight and his lady out of your pub?" Paul asked in a suprised voice, there was a hint of humor in it.

"Knight? aye, what bleedin' order" growled out from one of the patrons.

"Order of Stag Rock...." the name dropped like a stone in the room. Everyone looked at him, and then at Georgia. Only the sound of the game filled the room for a few moments.

"I don't beleive it...first most men don't announce..." the bar keep began.

Paul produced his wallet and showed a peice of identification to the bar keep. The burley man seemed to have a confused, almost dazed look in his eyes. "Er, why didn't you just declare..."

"Because I served as the Admiral's Marine Colonel back on the Blackwolf...and I find it strange that you haven't opened up to the general population today...."

"Er, really not many out there today, most are workers from the Baron's farms but any man who served with his lordship is welcome here...and of course his wife..."

"He ain't married, or if he is he damn well neigh forg'ot to send out an invite to his pals from the Blackwolf" The voice carried across the room like a cannon shot.

In the doorway stood a short barrel of a human with close cropped grey hair and a face that looked like a human version of a bulldog. The figure wore not a suit, but a white uniform about a size too small. He wore several medals across his chest, and one about his neck. An attractive petite red head, about a head taller, stood behind him.

Paul turned and laughed, "Oh dear, caught being rouge and a villian by Bosun O'Keefe. Now what brings you down from the mill?..you never struck me as a wave the flag at the crawford's type..."

O'Keefe walked up to the bar, the girl following and looking at Paul with a bit of wonder in her eyes. "Well your lordship, I am as loyal as the next to the Crawford clan, but I am here on a personal mission..."

His eyes seemed to light up, "Aye, ya see my eldest is an honors midshipmen, and I brought myself and my other daughter to see her, no offense to his Grace..."

Paul laughed, "Well well, so this is Milinda...right?" The girl nodded.
"I am so glad, for a moment I was going to accuse your father of robbing the cradle. Well, drinks are on me..."

Paul turned to Georgia, "Georgia, I would like you to meet Tom O'Keefe and his youngest Milinda, who you can see takes after her mother. Bosun O'Keefe, Milinda...I would like to introduce you to Miss Lancaster of Glorious Humanity, a senior diplomat of that nation actually. And I must say a credit to them..." He said the last part looking into her eyes.

The two O'Keefe's gave the traditional bow to Lancaster. The Bosun raised an eyebrow at the look Paul gave Georgia but said nothing.

"Now, ladies first, what will you both have>...well your sort of limited there Milinda."

**********
Jenssen nodded and stood at parade rest. One of the footmen appeared at Milhouse's shoulder and then led her to a small tiled powder room.

From the moment they walked in, Georgia noticed two things. The first was that this place and the people in it were so much like the area she had grown up in, she had to covertly glance out a window to make sure there wasn't snow outside and the familiar sights of the Carth Mountains. These people had the same look and feel about them, though they were wearing less heavy clothing than the mountain folk back home. The second thing followed closely on the heels of the first, and that was that she was most definitely in the wrong outfit for a place like this.

If we continue to visit places like this, I will have to shelve my silks and heels for a while. For some reason, that idea really did not seem so bad to her.

The reactions of the crowd did not in the least surprise her, and reinforced her opinion that she was wearing the wrong clothes. Just as she was about to say something, what she wasn't sure, Paul identified himself. The utter change in the attitude of the patrons just confirmed to her that there was a lot more to this man than met the eye, and a lot more than he had told her. She mentally started compiling a list of things to ask him about later.

Her thoughts returned to present business when Paul made introductions. He looked at her, and for a moment she couldn't look away, eyes again locking with his. Then the moment passed, and she forced her gaze away from his face and over to O'Keefe.

"His Lordship is perhaps a bit overgenerous," she said, returning the bows with one of her own. "I simply do what I can for peace. His compliments are appreciated, however."

She considered the question of drinks. "I think I shall just have a glass of water for now. I have to be a bit careful of how much alcohol I drink."

**********************************************************

Pierce paced around the room, waiting for Millhouse to finish with her prepping. It only took a couple minutes, then the Deputy Minister returned. She and Pierce conversed quietly for a moment - a lot more being said with fingers than lips - then the pair of them moved over to Jenssen.

"Well then, shall we proceed?" Pierce asked. "I am ready when you are."

Milinda ordered in a soft alto, "Sarsaparilla please."

Paul nodded and said, "likewise..."

O'keefe looked at them all and shook his head, "A pint of Black Ale if you would."

A tall glass of ice water was put before Lancaster with little comment. Two cold mugs of what appeared to be some type of cola were put before Milinda and Paul. O'Keefe was given a large white ceramic mug with a crest painted on it.

Paul pointed to a table next to the windows over looking the inner harbor, as he took a sip of his drink. "Ah, quite good...shall we take a seat? I've dragged Miss Lancaster all the way from the manor house in high heels..."

The O'Keefes nodded and the party sat down. Georgia found herself next to the window across from Milinda.

The bosun restarted the conversation, "Nah tell me your lordship..." the tone word was respectful except irony crept in at the lordship. "....what were you to discussing as you crossed the square..."

"Well aren't you the noisy one, I see all habits die hard. Poor Milinda here is burdened with a father who will feret out any sparkin faster than a Hassen smelling a wounded deer."

Milinda gave a weak smile, as though she could think of a few boys who she would be sparking with right now if not for the former non-com father.

O'Keefe was not distracted, "Well...are ya going to tell or is it a state secret..."

"We were doing the normal getting to know you chit chat...." He looked at Lancaster again and seemed to pause as though thinking about something, "...the most recent topic was reading prefrences...."

"Well, when you were still in the Black Tabs your cabin always had stacks of those spy thrillers. Damn well thought you had read everyone written." O'Keefe was actually watching Georgia for her response more than Paul.

"Yes, well I grew out of that. Presently I tend to prefer a good mystery or humorist, occasionally science fiction but really there is a glut with romantic swordsplay that I personally can't stand...I guess I have been quite fond of Lindsey Davises Falco novels. The protaginist has enough irronic humor and it is quite well written in my opinion."

O'Keefe nodded, "Damn fool writers don't know a bleeding thing about how to handle a sword and start babbling on about the bleeding things...and they are all bleeding lovers of those blasted Katana's. Ohhh....japanesse steel in the hands of some semi-copitant blond woman takes out a whole bleeding regiment of armed men."

Milinda interupted, "Dad that was Kill Bill and it was supposed to be overtly graphic it was playing homage to the stylistic, mass killing of japanesse cinema..."

"homage my...rear bleedin' end. Listen that...Tereinteno..."

"Tarantino, dad..."

"Bleen' Tar-an-tino, litters his bleedn' movie with ah more bleed'n four letter foulness than an entire battlewagon would generate 'in a bleed'n month."

Paul interupted, "Except for the phrase bleeding and bloody which would easily be overcome in five minutes in the non-com mess if you served warm cheeder..."

O'Keefe looked at Paul with a blank look and then began peeling out in laughter..."Oh so you remember that do you?"

"It is not every day that Marine country becomes refuge for the entire staff of the non-com galley, over cheese."

"Well, Yer right...although you remember Anderson's Fuu...F song?"

"I think that is inappropriate topic for a mixed party, especially two women without military service."

O'Keefe nodded, and mused into his beer for a moment.

Paul, who had been taking side glances at Georiga through the entire conversation, started a new thread in a light harted tone. "So, Miss Lancaster you have an example of the youth of the United Duchies before you. Despite her obvious oddity in parentage, I think this could be called a semi-represenative sample. Does she look like the dreaded, crazy eyed, mass murdering slaver of nations that some of our enemies call her? Or perhaps you take that old warning, Fair is foul, and foul is Fair?"

Milinda gave the Baron a look easily translated by those from western nations as: Seriously annoyed Teenager who thinks elder's joke is really really lame

**********
Jenssen looked up at the upper screens passage and held a wry smile. "Well now we get to hurry up and wait. My Grandfather appears to be running a bit behind schedule now..."

"Oh don't be silly," Lancaster answered in a similiarly lighthearted tone. "No one I've met calls you slavers. Bloodthirsty yes, nuclear maniacs certainly, but I have never once heard anyone refer to any of you as slavers."

She made a show of peering closely at Melinda. "Well, I don't see any claws or fangs, so I'd guess she's a fairly nice girl. If she suddenly produces a katana and begins a stylized Japanese massacre I may have to reevaluate her, but for now I think she is safe to share a table with."

She had been trying very hard not to laugh as she listened to the two soldiers tiptoeing around her as if her ears were made of porcelain. It was silly, she was an adult woman who knew a full vocabulary of swearwords in more than one language. Still though, their consideration was nice, and she wasn't going to object.

She did not turn a hair at O'Keefe implication of Paul's profession, though it confirmed some suspicions. He's an intel officer, or was at least. That explains why he knew about me. If he was related to any kind of intelligence gathering, that probably meant the reason he was working so hard at charming her was to get information, or maybe have a side door access to the GH delegation. Too bad for me, I guess. She couldn't help being a bit disappointed. He really did seem like a good man. It was too bad his motives had to be mired in politics.

Then again, he had countered with an implication that he was out of intel work. Maybe he wasn't trying to make a contact out of her. Lancaster decided she would have to just play it by ear, and be careful of political discussions. She glanced at Paul, irrationally wishing for a moment that she had not figured out his profession. Did he want her, or her information?

A few more questions were added to the mental list. When they had some time alone, she intended to have a very long talk with him.

Paul shook his head, "I think you've missed the spin coming out of Neo Tyr. But yes, she looks like her mother. Which says don't let her too near you with a standard freeman short sword...."

O'Keefe nodded, "I've got her taking classes under Master Prugin, she's quite good actually."

"So Milinda are you headed for the marines like your mother?"

Milinda looked at Paul with a steady gaze, "Likely, I want to study archeology at Torrhall University."

Paul nodded, "Quite a good school, but it is an urban campus..."

Milinda just shrugged as though that were not a problem.

Paul finished his drink and looked at his watch. "Well, sorry to cut this short O'Keefe but I and Miss Landcaster need to be down at the dock soon..."

"Aye, well you were always in a hurry...I think me and mine will hide out here in the pub until the crowd has disipated a bit..."

"If time permits I may see if I can get out to have a longer visit with you at your place..."

"I'd like that...." The men stood and shook each other's hand.

Milinda stood and did a small wave and said 'goodbye...'

After paying the bar keep twelve krondors for the drinks, Paul opened the door for Lancaster and let her exit into the crowds again.

As he led her down the sloping cobbled square towards a gate at the near corner he was strangley silent.

Damn it O'Keefe...I like a girl and you proccede to mess it all up...Fist with Davidia, then Margie, and now Georgia...I swear if I thought it was intentional I'd demand a duel right here and now.

At the gate out to the docks were several guards in marine blue and red. As they walked along the wooden planks of the dock, with people standing around waiting, including an entire troop of marines, Paul seemed a bit on edge.

"You know, the one thing most of those spy novels never covered were the people back home. The analysts and operation managers who spent about zero time in the feild. After I became more knowledgable about how the whole beast really operates, I never could find a spy novel all that intresting. They had too many idiotic sterotypes and too many holes. Since I spent most of my day engrossed in counter espionage, it was like reading about work done by a hack journalist with an axe to grind."

He turned to look at her. His eyes were filled with a mixture of disappointment and pleading.

Lancaster stopped walking, turning to face him. She folded her arms, obviously considering. Her eyes roamed over his face, taking in the look in his eyes. Was he being honest or was he putting on a good show? Was he really interested? Why did this have to happen right now? She didn't have time for this, she had a job to focus on, the distance between their nations would be trouble... a dozen reasons why she should end this right now sprang to mind.

"You know," she began. One corner of her mouth turned up. "That's probably why I never liked spy novels. They never tell the whole story. And they never talk about the really interesting people."

She looked into his eyes. "But maybe I ought to give them another chance. After all, somewhere in this world there must be one story that would keep my attention."

I'm an idiot, she thought. I should not be doing this. I should not be even thinking about continuing this. I'm a fool for even thinking about it. She realized she didn't care. No one had caught her interest like this in a long time. She found it hard to resist the honest emotion in his eyes, even when the political side of her mind told her that he could still be pretending. But maybe, just maybe, there was a chance he really was interested in her, as a person, as a woman. Either way, she decided to see where this went.

(OOC: I'm going to speed things up again)

God does she have beutiful eyes.... Paul smiled at her, lost for a moment in intoxicating beauty. "May I suggest a slightly used one, I'm afraid spys are only one facet of the entire novel. But perhaps you'll enjoy it..."

There was a decided *cough* interupting the interlude. It was the woman in white looking at both of them with a blank stare that seemed to be a mask for whatever emotions might be behind those peircing eyes.

Behind her, one could see the limo that had brought the Glorious Humanity delegation to the manor comming up to the gate. One of the windows was open and the Baron could be made out waving to the crowd.

He made some off the cuff remark to Peirce who was sitting across from him, "Well I'll be happy when this day is over..." Jenssen just shook her head slightly and looked behind her at Brooks who was now driving. Behind the car was a massive, black open carriage being led by six horses. These were not the dainty arabians europe had fallen in love with in the 18th century but massive chargers, relatives of the war horse and the clydsedale. Of course they needed to be large. They were going to be hauling a walrus about the place.

"You and me both," Pierce commented wrily. He was not a big fan of these kind of parade events.

"It seems we must go back to business," Lancaster told Paul with a small smile. "Let's get these formalities over with." She could see that was not what he wanted to talk about, but now her professional mind was reasserting itself, returning her to her diplomatic stance. She put her personal feelings aside for the moment. There would be more time to talk about that later.

She did decide to do one more thing though. "I am still a little unfamiliar with this country's customs," she admitted to Paul. "Perhaps you could stay close to me and warn if I am getting close to doing or saying something wrong?" Just because they couldn't discuss personal things right now didn't mean she wanted him to go somewhere else. Quite the reverse, in fact.

When the limo stopped, Pierce and Millhouse waited for the Alconans to leave first, as Pierce guessed that getting out before the Baron would be a serious mistake. When the Alconans had disembarked, Pierce got out and offered a hand to help Millhouse out.

Not much conversation was possible at that moment. As the Packard finished backing down the dock. A cannon opened fire from the second floor of the dock gate house.

Jenssen pointed the dignitaries towards a white tent errected on the dock and led them their more by motions than by words.

Paul attempted to yell something, but then gave up and led Landcaster towards the tent also.

As the last cannon shot was fired, the Elizabeth emerged from behind the group of houses. Her spars were covered in young sailors buisly hauling in her sails as the old warship was towed through the channel in the break water by a gunboat.

"Well, I am afraid you do have competiton, I think that is one of the most attractive sights in the world." Paul mused as he stood watching the graceful sailing vessel be turned and pushed towards the dock. The sunlight gleamed off the white paint and brass. It also gave a warm glow to wood spars and masts.

Long lines of sailors began to form along the rails of the ship as two lines were thrown out for her to be tied to the dock. Several men ran a gangway to the stern deck and secured it. As they tested the gangway to make sure it wouldn't move the sound of a bosun's wistle could be heard from echoing from the ship. A moment later thrity Royal Guards in their white and green uniforms tramped down the gangway and formed two lines on both sides.

An officer followed and shouted, "Atten' hut..."

Both the Royal Guards and the Marines facing them on the other side of the dock seemed to become rigid statues. A man who appeared to have gotten loose from some wax mesuem or a history book appeared.

The most striking thing was the hat, wide brimed with a huge white feather falling back along one side. He wore a black vest, gray pants, and white shirt that had more ruffles then seemed even remotely fasionable. The other noticable thing was the huge staff he carried in his right hand as he decended to the dock and stopped.

The figure bowed before the Baron and spoke obviously a formal, rehearsed speech. "Baron Caddray, His Grace, Your Lord, Alexander The Third, Protector of the Outer Isles and Grand Duke of Alcona, wishes to enjoy your hospitality. He comes with news that those who he doth desire to speak with upon grave matters are also at your table this day. What say you Baron to your Lord's request?"

The Baron returned the bow, "Good Herald and Council, inform our Lord that he is most welcome. And council him that those he seek do stand with me now to parley for mutual benifit. So shall my Lord and they be my guests and under my protection."

The Hearld turned and shouted, "Yea, The Baron has met his duty and Welcomes His Grace to his home...."

At the top of the gangway appeared a man in a simple blue sailor's coat and officer's cap. He didn't seem to be wearing any decoration or even a sword, but the gray hair, peircing eyes and aristocratic face all gave a sense of a man of power. As He started down the gangway, the marines and royal guard suddenly started to salute. As the Duke reached the midway point of the gangway a large walrus appeared behind him.

The walrus was followed up by a trio of humans. The first was a young blond in a marine dress uniform with black edging on the red trim. She had an athletic build and the same blue-green eyes as the Duke. The other two were dressed in white like the two twins earlier.

At the bottom step the Duke returned the salute and stepped towards the Baron. "How good to see you Admiral..." his voice was a mellow baratone, rather than just the normal bow he also extended his hand.

The Baron nodded, gave a bow and then shook the Duke's hand. "Well, I seem to be still rattling around your Grace...You know my Grandaughter, may I present Minister Peirce from Glorious Humanity."

The Duke turned and gave Peirce a bow. "We are happy to make your acquantiance..."

"And this is Minister Millhouse, your Grace..."

"We are charmed...."

"And Miss Lancaster..."

"We see that Miss Lancaster appears to be keeping company with a known rouge and villian..."

Paul chuckled a bit, "What! I guess she's been seen around Apethorpe Palace one too many times then...what will Her Grace say..."

"Likely regicide I'm afraid...you know my sister got her temper from my mother's side of the family..."

The blond had skirted the Walrus and was now standing next to the Duke. "...Hi Kat, its been awhile."

Jenssen nodded, "Yes it has, as I recall..."

The Baron interupted, "Not now..."

The Duke began to introduce the walrus as Orith Hagwonak the Vrakian Envoy.

"Known rogue and villian?" Lancaster murmured to Paul. "Sometime after this, I must hear how you got that title." She stepped forward to greet the assembled nobles, gracefully curtsying.

"It is an honor to meet you all, my lords," she began, adopting a formal tone simliar to the Grand Duke's. "Though as you said we meet to discuss grave matters, it is my hope - nay, my wholehearted belief - that the conclusion of these matters shall be joyful, for we meet in the name of peace, to put aside this pointless and foolish enmity that has blackened the hearts of us all, and in its place put friendship to abide for all time." If this was a formal occasion, she could speak formally. "Though I have been here only a short time, I have had the pleasure of seeing some small part of this land, and the more I see, the more I become convinced that our peoples can live in peace, as friends and kin should. Today is the day for weapons to be put away, for strife to be forgotten, that we might all see a new and glorious dawn together."

Pierce and Millhouse both bowed and murmured some pleasantries after Lancaster finished speaking. Even though they were both keeping themselves under control, it was obvious to anyone paying attention that the little speech had caught them off guard. Lancaster appeared to be making things up as she went along.

Orith bowed to the assembled dignitaries as he was introduced by the Duke. He listened attentively to Lancaster's speech and, being the trained diplomat that he was, could sense their unease.

Hmmm. Do they mean what they say? Or is the speech itself full of such high hopes that failing to live up to them gives them apprehension about how we view it?

He decided to tuck it away in a small corner in his mind. Outwardly, he smiled courteously, taking care not to smile too widely. His past experience has shown him that those unaccustomed to talking walruses felt a bit unnerved at their presence due to their bulk and tusks. Orith was dressed for the occasion. He wore a multicolored hat complete with tassel and a black vest with gold trim. The embroidered seal of the Vrak Diplomatic Corps was displayed over his right breast.

He rumbled in his deep bass voice.

"As representing my state, we are pleased to be here and most interested in the upcoming talks."

Behind him stood two aides. One was carrying a finely made wooden box.

Alexander looked for a moment at Paul, then waited for Orith to finish. "Obviously we are all here to bury the unfortunate emnity that has risen between us. Now then, have we forgotten any other formalities that need to be taken care of?"

How odd a comment to make, as though we hadn't already planned it...or was she just confused by the archaric verbage of the welcome ceremony?"

"Not that I am aware of," Pierce replied. "At this point, I believe we get down to the actual talking part of these talks. Lead on."

Lancaster threw a small smile at Paul and moved over to stand with her people. As the group moved away from the docks, the three of them conversed with each other, mostly using their fingers.

I think you confused them, Pierce noted to Lancaster.

It seemed like a nice speech at the time, she responded a little defensively.

It was a nice speech, but I still think they weren't expecting all the formality, he replied.

Pity, she said.

You and Baron Orith seem to be getting along rather well, he noted.

He is a charming man, she admitted.

Just remember whose side you're on, Pierce's fingers cautioned. I'd be rather put out with you if you suddenly start arguing for them.

The reply she gave him was unrepeatable.

OOC: I'm back...only to go away again... :( I have to head north for Thanksgiving...

Alexander raised an eyebrow, then looked up at Paul. A moment later he was leading himself, his daughter, Baron Caddray, Lady Jenssen and the Vrakian Ambassador into the carriage. The Humanitarians were escorted back to the Packard.

After loading the dignitaries the two vehicles. The small parade moved forward up through the gates, amoung the crowd and then broke apart at the top of the square.

The Alconian/Vrakian delegation turned off back towards Lake Point Manor while the Packard turned south towards Goat Rock Villa. The senior lieutenant, who seemed to be concentrating on not swining the long car to wide and off the edge of the cliff, said nothing. However when he pulled infront of the villa he commented, "I'll be waiting to take you back Miss Lancaster so you can change for dinner."

OOC: Character Location Update:
Paul---still at the docks apparently, of course one could watch him from the seating area that overlooks the docks.

Orith___Riding in a carriage to Lake Point Manor
Alexander+ Elizabeth+ Jenssen are with him.

Baron Orith____talking to the Vrakian Ambassador.

bump

OOC: Whee, the holidays are upon us, aren't they? Sorry about the long silence, let us continue.

"Thank you," Lancaster replied. The three diplomats disembarked and entered the villa. Two President's Guard were now standing on either side of the main doors, and they saluted smartly, then one held the door for the group.

In the main foyer, Colonel Guring met them with another sharp salute. Pierce tried to return it, the two women didn't even try. Lancaster was starting to wonder what the soldiers really thought of the Minister's attempts at military formality, but she did not comment.

"Your rooms are ready, sir," he told Pierce. "I have inspected the staff, everyone checks out and appears to be hardworking. Would you like to inspect them yourself?"

"No thank you," Pierce answered. "Right now, I would like to be shown to my room so I can rest a bit before dinner."

"Yes sir," Guring replied.

"I presume that means that I am headed back to the manor now," Lancaster said then.

"You presume correctly," Pierce nodded. "See you in a bit."

Lancaster nodded and left the villa. Returning to the car, she told the driver she was ready to return to the manor.

The lieutenant nodded and drove Lancaster back to the manor. It was a bit slow going as people were walking down the road to leave the area after seeing his Grace arrive.

Finally Lancaster was let out at the front door to the Manor. The guards stood at their post and watched her as she walked up the front steps and into the house. The muffled sounds of people moving about could be heard as she stood in the reception hall.

A footman appeared and asked, "Yes, Madam?"