NationStates Jolt Archive

Baronet Simon Darquis, Prime Minister of the Divine Imperium of Novar Ohan and the Sunset Isles, was in a very good mood when he walked into his office's antechamber. "Morning, Godfrey. Did you put those files on my desk like I asked?"

"Oh, yes sir." The secretary looked like he was about to start jumping around the room. "I love a royal wedding, don't you?"

Simon sat down on a chair, and looked tired. "Yeah... it's the organising that gets to me, though. I mean, really... contacting 250 people across the globe, and mailing invitations out... and that's just for the ceremony. For the reception, we've had to have the entire Divine Ballroom requisitioned, set up several hundred tents, and designed a loudspeaker system from scratch. Catering was a nightmare..."

Godfrey looked thoughtful. "Oh, by the way... there's a Princess in your office. Something about her brother placing her in charge of the entire wedding."

The PM tilted his head on side for a moment. "All right... I'll meet with her. But it's all been done."

~~

As he walked into his office, he came face-to-face with a red-haired, rather pretty young woman. Just for a second, because after she ran her eyes along him, she nodded. "Good. You're at least capable of dressing yourself. Though your ring of state is on backwards, your hair looks like it was done by a trained ape, and your clothes themselves were most likely picked out by a drunken hobo who had carpal tunnel vision."

After this verbal assault had passed, Simon blinked once or twice. "Princess Rachel, I presume? Your Highness, might I..." he spotted his ring, and, very carefully, took it off and put it back on the right way, before continuing with, "What brought on that rather harsh assault? If I may ask."

Rachel pulled some files from his desk, and started to recite a list of grievances. "Firstly, in catering... you have one option for a main. Pork."

"What of it?"

"Well... firstly, several of the hundreds of guests you've invited are moslem. The Sharif of Oman and Sheikh Abdullahkassim, just to pick two examples from our own empire. As well, you've also invited Rabbi Gamaliel of the Central Synagogue in Agua, and several of his colleagues."

Simon opened and shut his mouth, repeatedly. But the Princess wasn't finished yet. "Also, neither the bride nor groom *like* pork. My brother, in fact, suggested a nice salmon, maybe some beef... though since President Kapoha of the Protectorate of Micronesia, and many of the representatives of Altara, are vegetarian... as you'd know if you had done your research probably..."

The Baronet looked stunned. "Um... but... I mean..."

"Moving on to wine..." her voice had suddenly gone very soft, quite sweet, actually. "I'd like you to explain to me how, in a country where the primary drink is wine, where we have cellars full of the finest drinks from all corners of the Earth, you went and consistently picked the worst vintages imaginable of the worst wines imaginable!" Rachel was shouting as she finished.

Simon wasn't even allowed to explain himself when she grabbed a big pile of papers from his desk. "Now, I don't like you, Simon. And you don't like me."

"Hang on... I never said I didn't like you..."

"You're right. Let's start again. I don't like you, and you don't matter to me. But we're stuck together. So, here. You're in charge of entertainment and seating. I doubt even *you* could mess that up. I'll go and undo the damage you've done already." And Princess Rachel Amyn Black II walked firmly past him, not even bothering to nod.

((All right. Now some of you may be confused as to why you received invitations.

Essentially, Simon has a very Jim-Hackerish view of these occasions. He wants to meet with a government figure from each of your nations, preferably while the press is distracted elsewhere. If anyone wants an invitation, they can PM me. I'm sure I've forgotten some fairly important nations, so don't feel hurt, I'll get to you eventually. Still, best to PM me just in case.))

TAG

OOC: Should I send Gen. Liu as a guest?

TAG

OOC: Should I send Gen. Liu as a guest?

((Hrmm... either him, or someone important enough to conclude negotiations.))

Rachel was working in the palace's main lounge-area, her feet up on a footrest and some of the papers in her hand. Across from her, Simon was sitting very nervously, afraid that at any moment she might explode into another flood of abuse. Finally, she put the papers down. "Very nice. Bands, fireworks... I am most impressed. Now, there's just one teeny-tiny, itty-bitty detail."

Simon didn't like the sound of that. "Do tell, Princess..."

"Who's going to be the best man, and who's going to be giving away the bride?" Rachel waited. Almost three minutes passed before she realised he had yet to answer. "Simon?"

The Prime Minister was staring off into space, his eyes wide. "Oh... oh no... we did send an invitation to her family, yes?"

Rachel flipped through some papers, and then shook her head. "Um... no. But I wouldn't worry... she said they were unlikely to turn up, anyway."

Simon was panicking now. "Yes, but we should send one anyway! GAAAAH! Oh, His Divine Majesty is going to kill me... whatdoIdo?whatdowedo?... oh no! What will Sarah say! WHAT WILL SHE DO!" He ran shrieking out of the room.

Rachel had stopped paying attention, because she had noticed that two pages were stuck together. Slicing them apart with her nail, she ran down the list. "Simon, don't worry... we sent them a special, hand-written invit... Simon?"

Rachel prodded the closet with her foot, very annoyed. "Simon, if you can stop with the impersonation of Prime Minister Cartwright, we can get on with our work. I want you to help me run through the decorations..."

There was no sound from the closet.

The Princess growled, and knocked on the door again. "Baronet Simon Octavian Darquis the Third, how did a cowardly idiot like you ever become a SA in the Okranha?"

The door opened partway. "Hey! I am not a cowar..." Simon made an irking sound as the princess forced the door open and dragged him out by his collar. "Hey!" He stood up and pried her hands away from him. "I'll have you know that I earned that just like I earned my position as PM."

"You mean you were in the room when the person in charge of making that decision realised he needed someone for that job?" Rachel asked, drily. "Come on... the idiots you delegated seat-arrangements to put the ambassador for the Reich next to the Ambassador for Great Britain..."

"But I didn..." Simon bit his tongue, firmly.

OOC: Tag...however, I can't promise I'll be able to find the time to post for it. I'll try though.

"Also, neither the bride nor groom *like* pork. My brother, in fact, suggested a nice salmon, maybe some beef...

((Ooh, good thing he didn't listen to his brother! Everyone knows that more subjects of the Iansislean crown are Hindu than any other faith! ;)

Anyhoo, a belated tag. I'll have a better (read: real) post by tomorrow afternoon.))

OOC

Who is the bride and groom?

tag
post later

OOC: Is _Taiwan invited too?

Pope John Entwistle I seps into the Roanian Palace (or something), flanked by a rather significant procession. He wears a large, ornate purple cape and crown, and his many retainers wear costumes that look like something David Bowie might have worn during his Ziggy Stardust phase. Inside this procession are several officially (by LRR standards) dressed diplomats, carrying beautifully decorated briefcases.

The retainers carry colorfully-painted vintage stratocasters, themed after Jimi Hendrix's signature guitar, except with perhaps a few more diamonds on the fretboard, while Pope John Entwistle I, who appears to be wearing either platform shoes or stilts, carries a large gothic explorer bass as a scepter.

A group of airborne troopers, armed with submachine guns, provide security. but their costumes are also quite ornate.

All in all, the LRR group must number at least 35. When the LRR government tries, it can look really, really nice.

tag...

Premier Kim Eun-jin, Vice Premier Yuki Nau, and their entourage enter the halls of the Roanian palace. The women are dressed in long, ankle-length sun-dresses, a cross between the traditional flower design wrap around dresses of the Islandian archipelagos and Chinese cheongsams with slits for the legs. both sport flowers in their hair, Kim wearing hibiscus and Yuki wearing a blue moonflower native to Islandia. The women in their procession, consisting of some security guards and Foreign Minister Aimee Strou, are dressed similarly, but the men wear black tuxedos and silver sunglasses. Many of the women also have ornate hairstyles involving needles (sharp as hell, of course) and complex braids, and the married ones have also brought their husbands along with them.

Felicitations are sent to the couple, and Kim and Yuki await their arrival with two freshly made garlands of rare orange starblossoms, renowned in Islandia for its light orange hue and as symbol of undying love.

OOC

Who is the bride and groom?

((Tsar Daniel Edwards Black, and Miss Sarah Caddick))

Simon sighed, and shook his head. "Daniel's a lunatic... 'showcase our cultural diversity', he says. 'Demonstrate to the world that we're a viable multi-cultural state', he says. Well, that didn't work for the Austrians, now, did it!" He felt Rachel swat him.

"Shh..." Rachel stood up, and clapped politely as the... um... 'band' finished moving its hands around on their instruments. "Thank you very much, Electric Scumbucket..." she nodded to some heavily armed guards. "These men will take you to fill out some forms."

The band was removed, with a minimum of fuss. 'Death certificates, most likely.'

Simon shook his head, and went back down the list. "Okay... we've got the Divine Philharmonic with the Marche Slav and the national anthem... then we've got some... um... what'd they call themselves?"

"A jazz band."

"Right, right. A jazz band from Anchorage... traditional music from the Sunset Isles and Micronesia... some sort of African thing from Somalia... some absolutely dreadful thing from Oman... then we get to... the Imperial Marine Band. That'd be good, at least... then it's some sort of gong and tweet music from Altara..."

"Traditional Altaran Temple Music... most likely a Buddhist Hymn."

"Whatever. It sounds like explosions in a windchime factory." Simon scanned the list again. "Oh, splendid... the 21st Derricks Regiment will be finishing the event with... all it says here is March of the Gladiators. What is that?"

"That's the circus music."

"Fitting. And on the evening... ah, much better. Just a nice chamber quartet for some dancing. Nice, and slow... speaking of which, have you choosen who's going to accompany you? I'd be honoured to..." Rachel calmly stuffed her sheets of paper into his open mouth and walked off without a backward glance.

The Prime Minister watched after her. "Whad I fay?"

Pope John Entwistle I seps into the Roanian Palace (or something), flanked by a rather significant procession. He wears a large, ornate purple cape and crown, and his many retainers wear costumes that look like something David Bowie might have worn during his Ziggy Stardust phase. Inside this procession are several officially (by LRR standards) dressed diplomats, carrying beautifully decorated briefcases.

The retainers carry colorfully-painted vintage stratocasters, themed after Jimi Hendrix's signature guitar, except with perhaps a few more diamonds on the fretboard, while Pope John Entwistle I, who appears to be wearing either platform shoes or stilts, carries a large gothic explorer bass as a scepter.

A group of airborne troopers, armed with submachine guns, provide security. but their costumes are also quite ornate.

All in all, the LRR group must number at least 35. When the LRR government tries, it can look really, really nice.

The staff at Tarnaqin Palace looked down from hanging up bunting for just a brief second as this unusual procession passed them. Then they returned to their work, sniffing slightly. A man dressed immaculately in a kaftan stepped through a door, and shouted behind him in Russian. Slamming the door, he almost stormed past them, but suddenly stopped, his feet sliding slightly in his slippers. "Dobry den'!" He exclaimed, cheerfully. "Would you be the musicians?"

tag. Busy Ro, but ill see what i can do :D

Premier Kim Eun-jin, Vice Premier Yuki Nau, and their entourage enter the halls of the Roanian palace. The women are dressed in long, ankle-length sun-dresses, a cross between the traditional flower design wrap around dresses of the Islandian archipelagos and Chinese cheongsams with slits for the legs. both sport flowers in their hair, Kim wearing hibiscus and Yuki wearing a blue moonflower native to Islandia. The women in their procession, consisting of some security guards and Foreign Minister Aimee Strou, are dressed similarly, but the men wear black tuxedos and silver sunglasses. Many of the women also have ornate hairstyles involving needles (sharp as hell, of course) and complex braids, and the married ones have also brought their husbands along with them.

Felicitations are sent to the couple, and Kim and Yuki await their arrival with two freshly made garlands of rare orange starblossoms, renowned in Islandia for its light orange hue and as symbol of undying love.

Now this was slightly more expected. A man in a perfectly-tailored dinner jacket stepped out from a small booth, and gave a polite bow. "Miss Premier, I presume?" He said, ingratiatingly. "Ni hao. We have been expecting you and your party... please, step this way." He opened a door, and led the Islandians down a hallway.

Previous Tsars looked down at the group from the walls, portraits gleaming as if they had been freshly painted. The servant stopped at a door, and gestured to some slippers. A wide variety of slippers sat by the door. "I'm sorry... but due to new restoration work, a directive has been handed down that all passing guests are to put on slippers.."

OOC: If my character comes in, where shall he/she report to? Also what season is it (gotta think of attire)?

OOC: If my character comes in, where shall he/she report to? Also what season is it (gotta think of attire)?

((The foyer, I suppose. Everyone else is collecting around there.

And it's Autumn.))

It was a typically shabby day in Dunerbridge, Weshield. The afternoon showers beat down relentlessly on the small town. In the square, the burgundy and white lyre standard of the Republic still waved on its short pole, but for how much longer was anyone’s guess.

“Well, that’s it, then,” said Richard Underhawk, folding his paper and setting it aside. “Pennyman’s won again near Rupthunder. Dalenshire’s overrun. The paper says the Army of the Daldon ought to be in Mansmouth before the week is out.”

“Are the Shadoranites showing any sign of turning south?” asked his wife Catherine fearfully as she came into the room.

“Not yet, but it’s just a matter of time. The explosion in Oxenton means that it will be easier for them to go north first.”

“And they’ve confirmed that the President is dead?”

“Stabbed three times by that hussy he kept around. I knew she was trouble from the first.” Underhawk put the proper amount of spite into his voice. Like much of the minor gentry of Weshield, the Underhawks had avoided the camps by an overt show of loyalty to the new regime. That show of loyalty revolved primarily around turning in their next-door neighbors, the more high-minded Longwells, to protect themselves and their hereditary land. Thus, they and their property had been safe - so long as the Republic lasted, and Andrews had been the last hope of the Republic.

“Was there anything in the post?” asked Richard at last, breaking the somber silence.

“Something of import,” replied Catherine, holding up a heavy parchment envelope.

“Bring it here.” Richard received the envelope, looking over the fancy script with a curious eye. At last, he broke the seal and withdrew the handwritten letter inside it. As he read, his lower jaw clenched more and more tightly.

“Is it about Sarah?” asked Catherine at last.

Richard crumpled the paper in one side and cast it towards the fireplace, where a log of good Shieldian oak crackled pleasantly. He missed; it rebounded off the mantle and lay on the brick hearth. “Who?” he asked harshly after a short sigh of disappointment.

“Your d...” started Catherine, but she knew better than to argue with her husband about this. “I was just thinking, this might be a good time... to visit Roania.”

Husband and wife looked long and hard at each other for a second, then both lunged at the crumpled invitation.

---------

There was something distinctly Shieldian in appearance - with but three exceptions - about the small group that arrived shortly after the East Islandians. For the most part, they wore the most garishly hideous outfits imaginable: short brown coats over black trousers and white shirts. There were no ties, but rather a narrow sash of green, white, and red with matching cummerbund; a similar ribbon decorated the lapel. Topping off the ludicrous assemblage was, in most cases, a tall black top hat with a large cockade of the same colors as the sash, cummerbund, and ribbon.

Two of the three exceptions were military men. One was dressed in the mess dress deep blue blazer, tie, and trousers with peaked cap. A smaller cockade of the green, white, and red was his only concession to the prevailing style. The other was dressed in the dark brown of an officer in the Gallagan Army, which was the old Company’s uniform but with a Gull Flag substituted for the cross and stripes. He was a tall, almost gaunt man with a craggy face that had seen too much time out in the sun. Bright blue eyes surveyed the goings-on.

The third man was the obvious leader. He was slightly shorter than average and wore the simple and heavily black tuxedo that held sway among the aristocracy’s styles. He walked his his hands clutched behind his back - or rather, his hand clenched there. The left arm ended in a stub just above the wrist.

A small contingent of men had been specially awaiting the Shieldians. At the lead of them was a tall blond man, a steely glint in his eye and a fairly set expression on his face. A small scar ran along his left eye, the relic of one of Damien's camps. That eye was a milky white.

Flanking him was an even taller man dressed in the white formal uniform of the Legionnaires, a short cape along his back. His hair was closely cropped, and under his arm was a short baton. Next to the Officer was a man whose bearing bespoke of an Imperial tradition, with a simple grey uniform and a blue African Empire lapel pin. His hair was long, and his face was swarthy.

An observer could almost feel the tension crackling between the two parties. Simon Darquis, however, ended the stand-off, stepping forward and clenching his fist over his heart. He addressed the one-handed man. "Permit me to introduce myself. I am Prime Minister-Designate Simon Darquis of the Divine Imperium of Novar Ohan."

And during all this excitement, where were the bride and groom? Daniel was sitting in front of the fire in one of the palace's lounge-rooms, his hands clasped in front of him and his eyes were closed. He felt someone sit beside him. "Sarah?"

She ran a finger through his hair before answering. "Move your arm. I'm cold." He complied, and she leaned into his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck briefly. Sarah smiled as he put his arm around her shoulder. "So... penny for your thoughts?"

The prince gave a muffled laugh. "Just nervous... in less than a week, I'll be the Tsar..."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Daniel tilted his head on side. "Um... no, I don't think so..."

She thwapped him. "You have ten seconds..."

"Oh..." Daniel turned pink. "Right..."

"Yes, that." The young woman looked mildly put out. "And it appears we might have some very special guests."

"Oh?"

"Your intelligence services put a folder on your desk saying that Lord and Lady Underhawk were preparing to travel from their estates."

Daniel knew he probably should be worried about this. After all, IIAS reports were probably something he should keep for himself. His eyes crossed. "Aren't they..."

"That's them."

"Didn't you..."

"Yes."

"Oh dear."

"Yes."

In the office of Cardinal Augustus Brown, Minister for Religion and Culture.

Cardinal: What's this, a letter from Roania? Looks official serious with this seal.

<Opens letter>

Cardinal: Another wedding! Looks I don't get to go on another overseas trip.

<picks up he phone and dials>

Cardinal: This is the Cardinal, I need to speak to the Queen or the Regent! It is a matter of highest importance.
Secretary: The Regent is out and the Queen is babysitting the prince again.
Cardinal: Tell her it's a family matter

<Silence>

Queen: Hello Cardinal, a family matter?
Cardinal: A letter from the Tsar of Roania, one of your insane relatives.
Queen: Well, you can't choose your family sometimes ...
Cardinal: An official invitation to the wedding of Tsar Daniel Edwards Black, and Miss Sarah Caddick.
Queen: Miss Sarah Caddick?
Cardinal: No idea, but well do a intelligence check.
Queen: Send the letter to my palace, and it looks I'll have to visit my relatives again.
Cardinal: I'm sure the regent will be pleased
Queen: He'll have to go too even if he doesn't want to (laughs)
Cardinal: I'll do what you say.
Queen: I'm sure you'll do a good job running Jeruselem while we are at the wedding.
Cardinal: I'm not the Archbishop of Canterbury you know.
Queen: I trust you enough.
Cardinal: Is the young prince Arthur going too?
Queen: Sure is (laughs)

“We’re honored you took time out of your busy schedule to receive us,” replied the one-handed man. “I’m Charles Bradsworth, Premier Interim of the United Kingdom of the Shield.” He extended his hand for Simon to shake.

That done, Bradsworth introduced the retinue of uniformly short (with an average height of about five foot five), rotund little bureaucrats. Their names and positions seemed to blend into one another. At last, Bradsworth came to the two soldiers.

“And may I present one of His Majesty’s finest sailors, Captain Sir James Redford?”

Redford was a tall man - perhaps five foot ten inches - but not a powerfully built one. There was light in his brown eyes, but not the fire one would expect of the man who single handily cleared the Northern Seas of piracy.

“The Premier is too kind to me,” said Redford with a quick salute. He spoke with a distinct Gadsani accent. “I’ve only ever done my duty to the crown.”

“Of course,” smiled Bradsworth. “And, last but not least, Lieutenant Peter Longwell, of His Majesty’s Gallagan service. He’s here at the bride’s request*, from what I understand.”

Peter saluted as well but said nothing.

((* I assume. Peter was Sarah’s best friend back on the Shield))

------

Sir Richard Underhawk, fourth in the line of the Underhawk baronetcy, and Lady Underhawk arrived several hours after the main delegation from Iansisle. Getting out of Weshield had taken some doing - and no small amount of money - but where there was a will backed with a large coin purse, there was a way.

Now this was slightly more expected. A man in a perfectly-tailored dinner jacket stepped out from a small booth, and gave a polite bow. "Miss Premier, I presume?" He said, ingratiatingly. "Ni hao. We have been expecting you and your party... please, step this way." He opened a door, and led the Islandians down a hallway.

Previous Tsars looked down at the group from the walls, portraits gleaming as if they had been freshly painted. The servant stopped at a door, and gestured to some slippers. A wide variety of slippers sat by the door. "I'm sorry... but due to new restoration work, a directive has been handed down that all passing guests are to put on slippers.."

Kim nodded, and put on her slippers. Her delegation followed suit, and soon, everyone proceeded to (ooc...the foyers, i presume? not sure) and waited for the bride and groom. Kim and Yuki held onto their flower leis, awaiting the presence of the happy couple.

Kim noticed the tension between the two nations. so she walked up to some of the Iansisle delegates and bowed to their leader. Besides, she had not seen some Iansisle people for a long time, not since her stint in the East Islandian Counter Terrorism College, many years ago.

"Greetings," she said to them. "We in East Islandia have not seen of our acquaintances in the Shield in a very long time, and we are very much pleased to see you here. How are things?"

Simon bowed once more. "It is an honour you do to me." His eyes crossed, and he repeated the words to himself quietly, before shrugging and continuing with, "Allow me to introduce my Tovarischi... my comrades, as you would put it. The man to the left of me is Lord Captain Commander Aleksandr Mikhailovich Armenov, the current chief of the Divine General Staff."

The LCC gave a curt Divine Salute, eying Redford with barely concealed contempt. The other man was much more jovial, slamming the Prime Minister on the back. "And what of I?"

Simon blinked, and kept control of himself, though a momentary flicker of fury crossed his blue eye. "The man to the right of me is Sheikh Abdullahkassim of Mogadishu's second-in-command, Sharif Ali bin Muhamad." The Prime Minister of the Divine Imperium looked remarkably depressed at the man's company, but covered it well as he turned to Peter. "Lieutenant, we are gratified by your presence, and Her Divine Imperial Majesty the future Tsaritsa will be most pleased to see you."

He was saved from any further embarassment by the arrival of the Islandians. He spun on his heel. "Premier Kim Eun-jin!" He said, speaking quickly in almost perfect Islandian (well, he sounded like he had rocks in his mouth while doing so, but the words got out...) "You do me, and the Tsar, great honour with your presence here." He kissed her hand if it was offered, and gave a deep bow if it was not.

~~

The guard at the door had been most unfortunate all day. The Ambassadors of Great Britain and the Reich had come past at the exact same time... those from Vichy France and Free France within seconds of eachother... if he was of an intellectual level capable of doing so, he would have complained bitterly to anyone who would listen about the perils of adopting a neutral policy in the Second War. As it was, the guard just shook his head and said something disparaging about foreigners, earning a sharp clip on the ear from the hovering Princess Rachel for his troubles.

He had just ticketed through the President of the Protectorate of Micronesia when he found an invitation in front of him, an invitation that could only make his day worse. "One moment, my lord and lady..." he said, to Sir Underhawk. He slid over to the red-haired young woman.

Rachel stood at the door, pressing the flesh and accepting gifts and kisses from passing representatives. "Good to see you, my Lord Duke... Mister President, what an honour... yes, a servant will take your coat. Your children? Oh... how adorable. Run along now!" She felt someone tugging at her sleeve. "You have five seconds. Make it good."

"Lord and Lady Underhawk... the bride's parents... they..." Rachel stopped her watch.

"Time." Only then did she start to sweat. "Right. You... what are you doing, you idiot! Let them in!" The Princess pulled down a speaker tube and hissed into it, "Daniel! Your in-laws are here... yes, I know. No, don't hide under the desk... and I'm pretty sure Simon would think you're stealing from him if you hid in the closet. Just come down here in your best clothes... a suit, you lummox... and be your normal, charming self. I'll cover for you."

Putting on her best smile, and adjusting her tiara so that it sparkled, Princess Rachel slid into the invitation booth, and, when the Underhawks were distracted, shoved the guard out of the way. Hard. She turned to them with a bright smile. "Excuse me for the delay, most noble lords... my brother detailed me to meet you..."

The guard lay on the floor, mewling. His eyes crossed and he fell silent when the princess solemnly, and deliberately, trod on his chest. She continued. "We're so sorry that you were delayed... but our Prime Minister has an unfortunate tendency to invite too many people, and... Rachel coughed. "Would you please follow me?" She led the two of them into the immense entry-hall of The Kremlin of St. Michael, a huge and multi-storied room whose grandeur made the Stronghold's Kremlin look like the provincial capital it truly was.

The staff at Tarnaqin Palace looked down from hanging up bunting for just a brief second as this unusual procession passed them. Then they returned to their work, sniffing slightly. A man dressed immaculately in a kaftan stepped through a door, and shouted behind him in Russian. Slamming the door, he almost stormed past them, but suddenly stopped, his feet sliding slightly in his slippers. "Dobry den'!" He exclaimed, cheerfully. "Would you be the musicians?"

Pope John A. Entwistle I looks towards one of his diplomats, who opens his diamond-studded briefcase and withdraws several papers. Entwistle appears to stagger a bit on his high platform shoes, but quickly regains his balance.

"We would be...musicians. I am Pope John A. Entwistle the first, second-in-command to the honorable John Paul the second, close associate with his holiness Tenzin Gyatso, fourteenth Dali Lama, and Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and other leaders of religion, science, and philosophy...we are here for the wedding."

At the rear of the great procession, ornamentally dressed chefs wheel large carts of various foods.

<LRR, you've got mail>

You're never on IRC anymore. It makes me sad. :(

((sorry I've been so quiet. I had to leave town suddenly and my internet acess has been fleeting at best. I'll try to get on tonight; failing that, Sunday night.))

You're never on IRC anymore. It makes me sad. :(

((Siri! Did you get my Invite? :D Oh, and everyone's mean to me on IRC. Ian, that's okay.

And LRR... against my better judgement and character design... I'll go without arresting the Dalai Lama and shipping him back to Sino in a wooden box. IC post coming.))

[sorry about not posting : I'm interested, just busy right now.]

[sorry about not posting : I'm interested, just busy right now.]

OOC; Sorry, Ro. I'm with _Taiwan on this one.

At a Roanian airport ...

The place was abuzz with activity as security forces and officials were running about getting staff into position. "OK everyone, no mucking up here. We don't want the royalty of Jeruselem to think we're a bunch of idiots" one senior official scolded some aircraft engineers.

Two Ju-31 "winged serpert" fighter jets roared overhead as a smallish red and white jet followed. It circled and landed on one of the clear runway towards the awaiting parties. As the plane taxied to a stop, troops watched for any dodgy people in the crowd.

The plane stopped and a stairwell attached to the plane. First two members of the Inquisition stepped out as the crowd waving Jeruselem flags cheered on. Later, the Regent, the royal Nanny with young Prince Arthur and then the Queen finally appeared out to greet the crowd. A Moslem Cleric hopped out who looked confused but followed the royal party. Some servants carrying bags were the last to leave with a a female bodyguard barking orders.

The Queen greeted the officials "Nice to be home again! I hope all is well with Daniel and Sarah.". Prince Arthur looked upset at all the attention as started crying as the royal maid tried to calm him down. "Never mind him! Now, to the palace?" she teased an official.

*adds to very long to-do list*

Will try to get a govt figure there, if i can extract one from the smouldering ruins of my current capital.

Redford could be seen to curl the corner of his mouth in contempt at the posturing of his opposite numbers. He wore his well tailored RIN uniform with pride, but not pomposity. There was a twinkle of mirth in the corner of his brown eyes.

Peter also smiled, but for a different reason. “I’m glad to hear that. Erm, I’d be much obliged if you would tell Her Divine Imperial Majesty the future Tsaritsa that it is my humble honor and privilege to be invited to such an event.”

Bradsworth bowed to Premier Kim, though not too deeply.

“Madame Premier,” he said, glad that Simon had saved him the trouble of formally asking her name and title, “indeed too much time has passed since last our nations worked together. Things on the Shield ..change, but always for the better. How fares East Islandia?”

---

My brother...I assume she means by that my future son-in-law, thought Sir Richard, keenly (for him) deducing such from the royal cloth. With some horror, he watched her trod upon the guard - I imagine that’s how the Gallers behaved before we civilized them, he thought, but had the good sense not to enunciate such.

“Your Royal Highness,” he said, dropping to one knee. His wife did the same. A servant behind them tried awkwardly to duplicate the maneuver and nearly lost his grip on an enormous wicker basket which he had swung over his shoulder.

“Careful, you lummox!” snapped Sir Richard, hardly averting his gaze from Rachel’s feet. Rising again, his voice again took on the sickening sweetness his greeting had been made in. “As you can see,” he said to Rachel, “my clumsy man has my daughter’s dowry. I can only apologize for the extreme tardiness; travel off the Shield, especially with wealth.”

The servant set the basket down gingerly and Sir Richard opened it. He displayed a fine china plate, emblazoned with the Underhawk arms in the center and wreathed vines around the edges.

“My great-great grandfather’s original set,” Sir Richard explained, “preserved by mine own hands from the prying tax collectors of the Republic; the finest gift and only we might offer. I should feel ashamed that it is so humbled by this magnificent palace, but truly nothing from the Shield might rival the regal beauty of St Michael’s.”

That much was not hyperbole. The great palaces built by the ancient Seldur and Sentrians before 1091 were crumbling ruins and all royal construction from 1091 until 1697 had concentrated on ugly, if effective, fortifications. There were some great palaces, like Dûn Ádien with its Honeycomb, but its naturally defensible location precluded anything of impressive scale. Tharial Court in Thorntree, built after the industrial revolution sent money pouring into coal-rich Thortraia was built as a rival to the Court Ádien in strict defiance of the Edict-Adie of 1701, but it was always seen as too gaudy and ostentatious.

At a Roanian airport ...

The place was abuzz with activity as security forces and officials were running about getting staff into position. "OK everyone, no mucking up here. We don't want the royalty of Jeruselem to think we're a bunch of idiots" one senior official scolded some aircraft engineers.

Two Ju-31 "winged serpert" fighter jets roared overhead as a smallish red and white jet followed. It circled and landed on one of the clear runway towards the awaiting parties. As the plane taxied to a stop, troops watched for any dodgy people in the crowd.

The plane stopped and a stairwell attached to the plane. First two members of the Inquisition stepped out as the crowd waving Jeruselem flags cheered on. Later, the Regent, the royal Nanny with young Prince Arthur and then the Queen finally appeared out to greet the crowd. A Moslem Cleric hopped out who looked confused but followed the royal party. Some servants carrying bags were the last to leave with a a female bodyguard barking orders.

The Queen greeted the officials "Nice to be home again! I hope all is well with Daniel and Sarah.". Prince Arthur looked upset at all the attention as started crying as the royal maid tried to calm him down. "Never mind him! Now, to the palace?" she teased an official.

"Smile. Like you mean it." The commissar hissed to his men, as they arranged themselves along the red carpet. "'TENTION!" The Okrahnka Stormtroopers (Shadow Angels) snapped to attention, their fists over their hearts. "Eyes left! ESCORT!"

The Shadow Angels marched alongside the red carpet, keeping a respectful distance from the Royal Family. A limousine awaited them at the end of the carpet, and in the distance the onion domes and spires of Tarnaqin rose from the shrubland. "With what do we serve the Divine Imperium?" the commissar called to his men, standing in front of the limousine.

"WITH FAITH AND DUTY!" The Shadow Angels said as one, snapping back to attention.

"Who is a friend?"

"ONE WHO SERVES!"

"AND WHO IS AN ENEMY?" The Commissar bellowed.

"THOSE WHO FAIL!"

"AND WHAT IS OUR DUTY?"

"TO ROOT OUT THOSE WHO FAIL!"

"WHO DO WE SERVE?"

"THE TSAR! AND THROUGH HIM, THE IMPERIUM!"

"AND WHAT DOES HE BID?"

"TO SERVE! TO WORK! TO PROTECT!"

The Commissar raised his hand, and snapped his heels together. "SALUTE THE TSAR'S COUSIN AND HER FAMILY!"

Several Divine Legionnaire marksmen, seconded from the local military base, raised their guns and shot blanks into the air. Once. Twice. Three times. And the ceremony was over. The Stormtroopers fell silent, standing at attention, guns at ready. The Legionnaires stood at ease, but still very rigidly.

Two minutes passed, before the Commissar stepped aside from the Limousine door, clenching his fist back to his heart and sinking to the ground. "With faith and duty, Your Majesty." He touched his head to the ground, and a servant slid the limousine's door open.

Pope John A. Entwistle I looks towards one of his diplomats, who opens his diamond-studded briefcase and withdraws several papers. Entwistle appears to stagger a bit on his high platform shoes, but quickly regains his balance.

"We would be...musicians. I am Pope John A. Entwistle the first, second-in-command to the honorable John Paul the second, close associate with his holiness Tenzin Gyatso, fourteenth Dali Lama, and Archbishop Desmond Tutu, and other leaders of religion, science, and philosophy...we are here for the wedding."

At the rear of the great procession, ornamentally dressed chefs wheel large carts of various foods.

The kaftaned official seemed to pale. "Oh... oh dear..." He fell to his knees, banging his head on the ground. "I do beg your pardon..." He rose to his feet, bowing repeatedly. "I am most dreadfully sorry... please, my abject apologies..."

He coughed. "I fear I am a most miserable worm..." he was smacked around the back of the head by a strangely out of place man, whose tanned skin and Mongoloid features marked him out from the surrounding Russians.

"What are you doing? Surely there are more important things to deal with..." the man gave a polite bow to the Pope as the official staged a disappearing act. "I apologise for his behaviour..." he put a hand out to Entwistle, smiling slightly. "I am Ha'lain Kybar, Marquis of Angliok."

Redford could be seen to curl the corner of his mouth in contempt at the posturing of his opposite numbers. He wore his well tailored RIN uniform with pride, but not pomposity. There was a twinkle of mirth in the corner of his brown eyes.

Peter also smiled, but for a different reason. “I’m glad to hear that. Erm, I’d be much obliged if you would tell Her Divine Imperial Majesty the future Tsaritsa that it is my humble honor and privilege to be invited to such an event.”

Bradsworth bowed to Premier Kim, though not too deeply.

“Madame Premier,” he said, glad that Simon had saved him the trouble of formally asking her name and title, “indeed too much time has passed since last our nations worked together. Things on the Shield ..change, but always for the better. How fares East Islandia?”

---

My brother...I assume she means by that my future son-in-law, thought Sir Richard, keenly (for him) deducing such from the royal cloth. With some horror, he watched her trod upon the guard - I imagine that’s how the Gallers behaved before we civilized them, he thought, but had the good sense not to enunciate such.

“Your Royal Highness,” he said, dropping to one knee. His wife did the same. A servant behind them tried awkwardly to duplicate the maneuver and nearly lost his grip on an enormous wicker basket which he had swung over his shoulder.

“Careful, you lummox!” snapped Sir Richard, hardly averting his gaze from Rachel’s feet. Rising again, his voice again took on the sickening sweetness his greeting had been made in. “As you can see,” he said to Rachel, “my clumsy man has my daughter’s dowry. I can only apologize for the extreme tardiness; travel off the Shield, especially with wealth.”

The servant set the basket down gingerly and Sir Richard opened it. He displayed a fine china plate, emblazoned with the Underhawk arms in the center and wreathed vines around the edges.

“My great-great grandfather’s original set,” Sir Richard explained, “preserved by mine own hands from the prying tax collectors of the Republic; the finest gift and only we might offer. I should feel ashamed that it is so humbled by this magnificent palace, but truly nothing from the Shield might rival the regal beauty of St Michael’s.”

That much was not hyperbole. The great palaces built by the ancient Seldur and Sentrians before 1091 were crumbling ruins and all royal construction from 1091 until 1697 had concentrated on ugly, if effective, fortifications. There were some great palaces, like Dûn Ádien with its Honeycomb, but its naturally defensible location precluded anything of impressive scale. Tharial Court in Thorntree, built after the industrial revolution sent money pouring into coal-rich Thortraia was built as a rival to the Court Ádien in strict defiance of the Edict-Adie of 1701, but it was always seen as too gaudy and ostentatious.

<I'll get onto tmming EI immediately... Oh, and in my defense, I should probably point out that Rachel is an excellent argument against feminism. Not the ordinary Imperial Women by any stretch of the imagination.>

Rachel stared at the china plate, obviously viewing it to be worth more than its erstwhile owner had claimed. With difficulty, she pried her eyes away from it, and contented herself with a curtsey. The curtsey was almost amazingly clumsy, but Rachel wasn't often compelled to do so, instead preferring to clench fist to heart in the traditional greeting. Even the fact she was in a dress could give some clues as to the importance she attached to this occasion. "You do us honour with your presence, Lord Underhawk."

Rachel looked around the busy antechamber, concerned about her brother's absence. Overhead, workmen were still busy hanging bunting and activating lights. Gold artwork dotted the walls, and a particularly large portrait hung from the wall at the top of the stairs. If it wasn't for the almost sinister smirk, and the rather callous glare, it could have been an almost exact portrait of the Palace's current occupant.

As it was, Alexander Grozny still seemed to be almost alive, and it seemed as if at any moment he would step from the portrait for a brief walk. Rachel hissed under her breath, "It's a Nesterov," when she saw one of the Shieldians dart a brief glance at it. She looked like she would pour scorn on any Anglo-Saxon who questioned who Nesterov was.

Hanging directly over the great door, though, and scowling down upon everybody in the room, was a face familiar to anyone who had ready any newspapers from the last ten years. Tsar Damien Alexander Black. An interesting juxtaposition, the two tyrants and this celebration. Rachel, however, had no eyes for anything except the door at the top of the stairs. "Where is that lummox..." she muttered, forgetting herself momentarily.

Then there was a brief rush of trumpet music, and the doors swung ponderously open. Daniel Black swept into the room, managing to convey both his intense depression at entering in such a manner, and his even more intense panic upon seeing his future in-laws. He quietly, and quickly, walked down the stairs, giving a quick Imperial Salute as he passed Simon and the other PMs, but otherwise trying to move inconspicuously.

He had just reached the Underhawks and his sister, and was opening his mouth, when one of the servants quickly stepped forward. "Presenting His Divine Imperial Majesty, Tsar of Novar Ohan, Overlord of Roan and Agua, of Derricks and Altara; Lord Protector of the Free Cities, The Great King of the Sunset Isles and Micronesia, Emperor of Somalia and Yemen. Tsar of..."

Daniel, in the manner of a long suffering man, raised a finger. "We can do without the long list of every barony, city, and county I control."

Without skipping a beat, the attendant started on, "Defender of the faith... Lord of Hunts... Comm..."

"And... yes, we can do without the courtesy titles, too." Daniel sighed.

"Um..."

"Now go away."

"Yes, Your Divine Imperial Majesty."

"And take that trumpet player with you." Daniel sighed once more as the servants politely walked off. Brushing some non-existent dust off his collar, he gave a polite nod to Sir Richard, as between equals, and a deep bow to Dame Underhawk. "Sorry about that, sir..." he rubbed the back of his neck. "Um... I'm glad you made it..."

Rachel coughed, and in doing so managed to show that A) he was acting like a scared little boy, and B) that even if he was a scared little boy, he was also Tsar of the Divine Imperium and should thusly act like it. All in one cough.

Daniel gave a nervous laugh. "Um, sorry, sir... not very Imperial, I guess..."

“Nesterov?” asked the round little man who had glanced at the painting. “Ah, yes. An above-average talent,” he finished in a tone that could be either condescending or appreciative. It was a vocal talent that had much use in appearing to compliment the princes of Gallaga on their palaces, temples, and artwork while reminding them who ruled on the subcontinent. “Your pardon, Highness,” he excused himself before ambling off in the opposite direction.

If the main Shieldian delegation was maintaining the (inflated?) prestige of their realm, Sir Richard and Lady Underhawk were quite literally prostrating themselves before the Tsar. As Daniel cut off his list of titles, however, they started to wonder if perhaps they weren’t sacrificing too much dignity for too little favor. They rose as the man was dismissed.

"Sorry about that, sir..." said the most powerful man in the land across the marches, "Um... I'm glad you made it..."

Both Shieldians tried to cover up their amazement. Sir Richard made some noises that might possibly have been words.

The Tsar gave a nervous laugh. "Um, sorry, sir... not very Imperial, I guess..."

“We are just glad to get to know the man whom our daughter chose,” said Sir Richard, deciding to be vague and concentrate in areas where he had prepared speeches. “Truly, her taste is matched only by her mother’s!” He laughed at the weak joke, but it sounded forced.

If the Underhawks and their entourage were anxious, Daniel was on the verge of a break-down. He managed to squeak out, "Thank you very much, sir," before giving a quick look around. "Um... Rachel?"

The Princess gave a brief sigh. "Yes, Daniel?"

"Would... could... please go and tell Sarah that... um... their Lordships are here, please?"

Rachel clamped a hand to her heart and nodded. "With faith and duty." She pulled on a statue's arm, and stepped into a revealed staircase, sliding the passage-way closed after her.

Daniel looked vaguely nervous at being left alone, but tried to get around it with the traditional Putting Commoners At Ease that every royal knew by heart. It's a pity it never really works. "Um... Sir? Would... um... you and... Her Ladyship like to go to one of the lounge-rooms? They're um... quite comfortable, and..." inside, he wished that there was something called 'putting future son-in-laws at ease'. He clapped his hands, and seemed to be quite unstartled when a servant appeared at his side less than a second later. "Um... kindly... um... direct their Lordship's servants to a place where they can... um... relax or something..." He paused, and once again bowing, turned to Sir Underhawk. "If that's okay with you, sir..."

If the Underhawks and their entourage were anxious, Daniel was on the verge of a break-down. He managed to squeak out, "Thank you very much, sir," before giving a quick look around. "Um... Rachel?"

The Princess gave a brief sigh. "Yes, Daniel?"

"Would... could... please go and tell Sarah that... um... their Lordships are here, please?"

Rachel clamped a hand to her heart and nodded. "With faith and duty." She pulled on a statue's arm, and stepped into a revealed staircase, sliding the passage-way closed after her.

"Please, Your Majesty," said Sir Richard with a meek voice, "you do not need to refer to us as 'their lordships' I am but a humble baronet, and such honorifics are far above my post."

Daniel looked vaguely nervous at being left alone, but tried to get around it with the traditional Putting Commoners At Ease that every royal knew by heart. It's a pity it never really works. "Um... Sir? Would... um... you and... Her Ladyship like to go to one of the lounge-rooms? They're um... quite comfortable, and..." inside, he wished that there was something called 'putting future son-in-laws at ease'. He clapped his hands, and seemed to be quite unstartled when a servant appeared at his side less than a second later. "Um... kindly... um... direct their Lordship's servants to a place where they can... um... relax or something..." He paused, and once again bowing, turned to Sir Underhawk. "If that's okay with you, sir..."

The one manservant who had come with Sir Richard and Lady Underhawk seemed quite releaved to be both rid of his heavy (and breakable) burden and heading somewhere that he might be able to smoke. With a nod from Sir Richard, he trotted out after the imperial servant.

"I hope Your Majesty is pleased with the humble dowry," squeaked Lady Underhawk. "I'm afraid that it is all we could come up with, save our beautiful daughter, to give Your Majesty."

"I think that a trip to the ..lounge-room would be just dandy," said Sir Richard, though he struggled slightly with the term. "Do lead afore," he finished, gesturing in front of him.

"Hrmm... oh? The... dowry?" The Tsar tilted his head on side, trying to place the term to his satisfaction. "Oh... um... that's perfectly all right, Ma'am... really, it's not... that important. Thank you very much..."

Daniel gave a muffled squeak, before he opened a door that led into a small hallway. After running a spot-check for any servants with trumpets, he led the Underhawks through the passageway and into a small parlour, where four lounge chairs sat facing the fire, and two very comfortable kittens lay stretched across two of the lounge-chairs, neither deigning to look up at the intrusion by their so-called owner. "Um... it's nothing, I'm sure, to what you're used to, of course... and I'd be able to offer you more comfortable places at my dacha... but..." The Tsar shrugged. "It's home. Um..." He really wasn't too good at this.

He just waved his hand towards the chairs. "Um... would either of you... care to sit?" He coughed, wondering when the yelling was going to start. "Um... firstly... I'd... um... well..."

~~

Sarah and Rachel, meanwhile, were wandering the palace not too far away, trying to find where Daniel and the Underhawks had vanished too. Rachel muttered under her breath, "first thing to do after all restoration work is completed is set up a map..."

"Smile. Like you mean it." The commissar hissed to his men, as they arranged themselves along the red carpet. "'TENTION!" The Okrahnka Stormtroopers (Shadow Angels) snapped to attention, their fists over their hearts. "Eyes left! ESCORT!"

The Shadow Angels marched alongside the red carpet, keeping a respectful distance from the Royal Family. A limousine awaited them at the end of the carpet, and in the distance the onion domes and spires of Tarnaqin rose from the shrubland. "With what do we serve the Divine Imperium?" the commissar called to his men, standing in front of the limousine.

"WITH FAITH AND DUTY!" The Shadow Angels said as one, snapping back to attention.

"Who is a friend?"

"ONE WHO SERVES!"

"AND WHO IS AN ENEMY?" The Commissar bellowed.

"THOSE WHO FAIL!"

"AND WHAT IS OUR DUTY?"

"TO ROOT OUT THOSE WHO FAIL!"

"WHO DO WE SERVE?"

"THE TSAR! AND THROUGH HIM, THE IMPERIUM!"

"AND WHAT DOES HE BID?"

"TO SERVE! TO WORK! TO PROTECT!"

The Commissar raised his hand, and snapped his heels together. "SALUTE THE TSAR'S COUSIN AND HER FAMILY!"

Several Divine Legionnaire marksmen, seconded from the local military base, raised their guns and shot blanks into the air. Once. Twice. Three times. And the ceremony was over. The Stormtroopers fell silent, standing at attention, guns at ready. The Legionnaires stood at ease, but still very rigidly.

Two minutes passed, before the Commissar stepped aside from the Limousine door, clenching his fist back to his heart and sinking to the ground. "With faith and duty, Your Majesty." He touched his head to the ground, and a servant slid the limousine's door open.

Queen Mariah stepped out of the Limousine first onto the red carpet with the uneasy Regent and the maid controlling a nervious Prince. The Islamic Cleric didn't like the Nazi-like guard, but at least they were protecting him. The Queen complimented the Commissar "The Roanian greeting parties never fail to make their guests to feel at home. Nothing changes and I assume the Tsar and lovely Miss Caddick are also at home. Your troops serve you well, like my Inquisition.". The Queen's bodyguard was busy talking business to one the head of security.

The two members of the Jeruselem Inquisition looked like members of King Richard I knights with their white robes and red crosses. They assured the Islamic Cleric, about the situation.

The kaftaned official seemed to pale. "Oh... oh dear..." He fell to his knees, banging his head on the ground. "I do beg your pardon..." He rose to his feet, bowing repeatedly. "I am most dreadfully sorry... please, my abject apologies..."

He coughed. "I fear I am a most miserable worm..." he was smacked around the back of the head by a strangely out of place man, whose tanned skin and Mongoloid features marked him out from the surrounding Russians.

"What are you doing? Surely there are more important things to deal with..." the man gave a polite bow to the Pope as the official staged a disappearing act. "I apologise for his behaviour..." he put a hand out to Entwistle, smiling slightly. "I am Ha'lain Kybar, Marquis of Angliok."

"It's perfectly fine," says the Pope, "and its nice to meet you, Marquis. As you may have heard, we are here for the wedding."

It was a crowded night. When this man had first been captured, fighting in Maui, he had played for his fellow American POWS. Later, once released, his primary audience had been the exile and refugee community. He had slowly made a name for himself, climbing up to this point. Hundreds of the exiles were there, of course.

But for the first time, there was also a smattering of the locals. Aguans were scattered around the crowd. Commoners in their traditional smocks, guild personalities sitting in their balconies dressed in their usual robes... even some aristocratic and governmental bigwigs.

It may be surprising to some that he had managed to rise from such a low start to his current height, and showed every sign of rising still further. But... he was, after all, the king. And all he needed to remain such was a guitar and a microphone.

He raised a hand, and listened to the calls of the lower crowd. Then he grabbed the microphone. "HELLO PORT AGUA!" Then Sergeant Elvis Aron Presley, the once and future king of rock and roll, began to play.

~~

It was later that night, and the king was resting in his room. His agent in the Divine Imperium, Karlov Radensky, was running his hands through the money. "Oh... so beautiful..."

There was a knock at the door. Radensky pulled it open and snarled, "no autographs! Go awa...oooh." He was shoved out of the way by two besuited men.

"Mr. Presley?"

The king raised an eyebrow. "They call me that."

"Are you the same Elvis Aron Presley who declined to be patriated either back to WoS territory, Canada, or Australia? And was unaware of the existence of New Zealand?"

"Yeah, that's me."

The man who wasn't speaking was busy humming Blue Suede Shoes. He pushed forward a contract. The other man coughed. "Sign, please..."

Elvis shook his head. "I don't sign nothing before my agent's looked at it."

Karlov grabbed the contract and started to read through it. His ears turned pink. "Elvis... how'd you like to play at the palace?" He flipped through it again.

Presley snatched the contract back and, with a few seconds thought, scratched his name at the bottom. "I'll be in... Roslin... tomorrow."

The officials both laughed. "Roslin? Oh, no... you're going to the Court of St. Michael..." they took the contract back and gave a half bow. Elvis responded with an American salute.

The first guard walked out the door. The second guard, though, hovered around for a few moments and then pulled out a sheet of paper. "Mr. Presley, sir... it's for my daughter..."

Queen Mariah stepped out of the Limousine first onto the red carpet with the uneasy Regent and the maid controlling a nervious Prince. The Islamic Cleric didn't like the Nazi-like guard, but at least they were protecting him. The Queen complimented the Commissar "The Roanian greeting parties never fail to make their guests to feel at home. Nothing changes and I assume the Tsar and lovely Miss Caddick are also at home. Your troops serve you well, like my Inquisition.". The Queen's bodyguard was busy talking business to one the head of security.

The two members of the Jeruselem Inquisition looked like members of King Richard I knights with their white robes and red crosses. They assured the Islamic Cleric, about the situation.

Princess Rachel Black stood at the step, and, ignoring the watching press, took a running leap forward and embraced the older woman happily. "Auntie!" She coughed, and returned to her usual dignity, kissing both of Mariah's cheeks.

She backed up, and examined the small infant. "Awww..."

"It's perfectly fine," says the Pope, "and its nice to meet you, Marquis. As you may have heard, we are here for the wedding."

The marquis checked through a long list of invitations. "Yes... it... ooh, it just says here the Leader of the Parliament of Lunatic Retard Robots..." He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked thoughtful. "Is that you?"

Princess Rachel Black stood at the step, and, ignoring the watching press, took a running leap forward and embraced the older woman happily. "Auntie!" She coughed, and returned to her usual dignity, kissing both of Mariah's cheeks.

She backed up, and examined the small infant. "Awww..."

The Queen handed the confused infant to Princess Rachel Black while reassuring it "Look Arthur, this is Rachel. She's family. You see she like children and you'll be very happy here". Arthur smiled and giggled as he cuddled Rachel as the entourage moved on out of the gaze of the press. The Queen's bodyguard, Victoria Becks , fielded questions from the press to distract them from their disappearing quarry.

"Is it true, your husband is soccer player?" one sleazy reporter shouted. Victoria replied "Yes, David Beck is my husband. Thank you for asking. Now please I'm here to answer questions about the Jeruselem Royal family, not my personal life."

((I really hate making all these excuses, but that little jaunt out of town has thrown me WAY off schedule. I've a six page paper (currently about three lines) due in ~sixteen hours.

By the way, Roania, you can have Elvis, but I call Ted Williams :P. He's a hometown hero, after all.))

The marquis checked through a long list of invitations. "Yes... it... ooh, it just says here the Leader of the Parliament of Lunatic Retard Robots..." He rubbed the back of his neck, and looked thoughtful. "Is that you?"

"It is. Pope John Alec Entwistle the first, Pope of LRR, chairman of the three parliamentary districts, and advisor to the Volgostan republics."

Redford could be seen to curl the corner of his mouth in contempt at the posturing of his opposite numbers. He wore his well tailored RIN uniform with pride, but not pomposity. There was a twinkle of mirth in the corner of his brown eyes.

Peter also smiled, but for a different reason. “I’m glad to hear that. Erm, I’d be much obliged if you would tell Her Divine Imperial Majesty the future Tsaritsa that it is my humble honor and privilege to be invited to such an event.”

Bradsworth bowed to Premier Kim, though not too deeply.

“Madame Premier,” he said, glad that Simon had saved him the trouble of formally asking her name and title, “indeed too much time has passed since last our nations worked together. Things on the Shield ..change, but always for the better. How fares East Islandia?”

.

"We are quite well," Kim said. She briefly looked at the many military uniforms there, trying to sort each outfit out by branch of service, but gave up. "Not so much change, really, so it's quite a pleasure to visit other nations and see what they are doing."

"We're not quite sure who's getting married," Yuki whispered to one of hte Iansisleans. "It's embarrassing...Can you point out the couple to us? We need to give them these leis while the flowers are still fresh."

Kim's face turned red, and she laughed uneasily. "Yes, we would appreciate that very much," she said.

Her time in the Air Descent regiments had not taught her how to deal with such things; for Kim, it was easier jumping feetfirst into the unknown, assault rifle in hand, then to attend these damned formal ceremonies. It was fun to dress up, but Kim was not too sure about decorum and such...the Iansisleans seemed to be good at this formal business, so perhaps they would know the ins and outs of such ceremonies...

He just waved his hand towards the chairs. "Um... would either of you... care to sit?" He coughed, wondering when the yelling was going to start. "Um... firstly... I'd... um... well..."

"Thank you," said Sir Richard, with slightly less reverence than a minute ago. There was a touch of confusion in his voice; why was a future monarch being quite so awkward?

Neither he nor Lady Underhawk seemed to have anything to say, and sat in uncomfortable silence.

-----

Bradsworth stayed to talk with the East Islandians while the other Iansisleans politely took their leave. He smiled faintly at the question, but not in a mocking way.

“Alas! I only know the Tsar through photographs,” he said, “and I see no one of his description outside of these lovely paintings. I do know that he is marrying Ms. Sarah Caddick, of our very own Shield, but I have never had the honor of making her acquaintance either. I do, however, know just the fellow to help you.”

Bradsworth looked over to where Peter was standing. The sun beaten young man looked positively relieved, as he had been standing rather uncomfortably.

“Lieutenant, may I introduce you to Premier Kim Eun-jin of East Islandia? Madame premier, may I present Lieutenant Peter Longwell of the Gallagan service?”

“Madame,” said Peter with a quick bow.

“The premier here was just reminding me that I’ve not the slightest idea how to recognize Madame Caddick,” said Bradsworth. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to point her out for us, lieutenant?”

“Um,” replied Peter, quickly scanning the crowd.

((sorry about all the delays. I *think* I'm done with all my work for this week, so hopefully I ought to have plenty of time to waste on NS for the next few days! ;)))

The Queen handed the confused infant to Princess Rachel Black while reassuring it "Look Arthur, this is Rachel. She's family. You see she like children and you'll be very happy here". Arthur smiled and giggled as he cuddled Rachel as the entourage moved on out of the gaze of the press. The Queen's bodyguard, Victoria Becks , fielded questions from the press to distract them from their disappearing quarry.

Rachel cradled Arthur close, rubbing his nose with her finger. "Who's a big boy?" The Princess asked, clearly in her element. "Where's his daddy?" She asked, poking him in the stomach. "Where's daddy, Arthur?"

"Is it true, your husband is soccer player?" one sleazy reporter shouted. Victoria replied "Yes, David Beck is my husband. Thank you for asking. Now please I'm here to answer questions about the Jeruselem Royal family, not my personal life."

A watching Roanian Guardsmen quickly collared the offending reporter and handed him over to the Divine Legionnaire Special Palace Detachment for transfer to the Okrahna. A second reporter raised his hand. "Yes. Mikhail Ivanovich Ontsky, Novarian. Can the Divine Imperium rely on Jeruselem's support in the police action in Ethiopia against the tyrant Haile Sellasie?"

((I really hate making all these excuses, but that little jaunt out of town has thrown me WAY off schedule. I've a six page paper (currently about three lines) due in ~sixteen hours.

By the way, Roania, you can have Elvis, but I call Ted Williams :P. He's a hometown hero, after all.))

((You can have Ted Williams in exchange for co-operation in any future moves I might make against the Confederacy in Central India. :D I think you're just jealous I thought of it first. ;)

Seriously, I have no moves planned as Ethiopia's sucking up men like a sieve. And feel free to have Williams. Seems fair.))

"It is. Pope John Alec Entwistle the first, Pope of LRR, chairman of the three parliamentary districts, and advisor to the Volgostan republics."

The Marquis checked him off the list. "Your Eminence, you do us honour with your presence." He clamped his hand over his heart. "With faith and duty."

Resuming his previous position, he looked around, searching for other heads of state. "I'm afraid that right now the Tsar is unavailable... who I could introduce to you depends on what capacity you're here as. Head of state, head of government?"

"We are quite well," Kim said. She briefly looked at the many military uniforms there, trying to sort each outfit out by branch of service, but gave up. "Not so much change, really, so it's quite a pleasure to visit other nations and see what they are doing."

"We're not quite sure who's getting married," Yuki whispered to one of hte Iansisleans. "It's embarrassing...Can you point out the couple to us? We need to give them these leis while the flowers are still fresh."

Kim's face turned red, and she laughed uneasily. "Yes, we would appreciate that very much," she said.

Her time in the Air Descent regiments had not taught her how to deal with such things; for Kim, it was easier jumping feetfirst into the unknown, assault rifle in hand, then to attend these damned formal ceremonies. It was fun to dress up, but Kim was not too sure about decorum and such...the Iansisleans seemed to be good at this formal business, so perhaps they would know the ins and outs of such ceremonies...

Simon tapped his brow, thoughtfully. "I'm afraid that neither Tsesarevich Daniel or future-tsesarevna Sarah are in this room at the moment... he's meeting with the in-laws, you know. As PM, I could take the leis and have them stored in a cool, dry place, perhaps? Or find my father and, as the ranking noble currently in the room, ask if he'll accept in the future Tsar's name?"

He pointed up to the portrait above the stairs, though. "That would be a picture of the Tsesarevich Daniel's grandfather. They look very much alike... ah, there's Miss Sarah... Miss Sarah! Miss..."

The young woman had clearly not heard the Prime Minister, as she had vanished into a concealed passage. He gave a half-shrug. "My apologies, Premier Kim... she must be running to find her parents before Prince Daniel does something wrong..."

"Thank you," said Sir Richard, with slightly less reverence than a minute ago. There was a touch of confusion in his voice; why was a future monarch being quite so awkward?

Neither he nor Lady Underhawk seemed to have anything to say, and sat in uncomfortable silence.

Daniel coughed. "Um... firstly, I'd like to thank you both for coming..." He lifted a kitten up easily and shifted it onto his lap, stroking it as if he was trying to maintain an illusion of calm. "I appreciate it, and... I'm sure Sarah appreciates it... um... if she knows. Which she does, because of course I sent my sister to find a servant to find her, and..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

A few more moments passed before the door slowly slid open, and Miss Sarah Caddick, future Tsaritsa of the Divine Imperium, nervously looked inside. She brightened somewhat on seeing that none of them were at each other's throats, and curtseyed to her parents, but still wanted one of them to say something first.


Bradsworth stayed to talk with the East Islandians while the other Iansisleans politely took their leave. He smiled faintly at the question, but not in a mocking way.

“Alas! I only know the Tsar through photographs,” he said, “and I see no one of his description outside of these lovely paintings. I do know that he is marrying Ms. Sarah Caddick, of our very own Shield, but I have never had the honor of making her acquaintance either. I do, however, know just the fellow to help you.”

Bradsworth looked over to where Peter was standing. The sun beaten young man looked positively relieved, as he had been standing rather uncomfortably.

“Lieutenant, may I introduce you to Premier Kim Eun-jin of East Islandia? Madame premier, may I present Lieutenant Peter Longwell of the Gallagan service?”

“Madame,” said Peter with a quick bow.

“The premier here was just reminding me that I’ve not the slightest idea how to recognize Madame Caddick,” said Bradsworth. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to point her out for us, lieutenant?”

“Um,” replied Peter, quickly scanning the crowd.

((sorry about all the delays. I *think* I'm done with all my work for this week, so hopefully I ought to have plenty of time to waste on NS for the next few days! ;)))[/quote]

Simon pointed to the retreating Redford, and motioned to the LCC. "Go on... you military types should stick together... I doubt I need any protection from Mr. Bradsworth or Premier Kim." He rubbed his blind eye, as if it was a habit. The grumbling soldier took his leave, followed by the smiling Somali.

He turned back to Premiers Kim and Bradsworth. "If we may shift this over to the salon?" He asked, brightly. "And... Lieutenant Longsworth, I'm sure that the happy couple would be overjoyed to see you..." he gestured to the passage-way Sarah had traveled down. "If you'd prefer to see her than listen to us politicians, then by all means... that hallway leads to only one room, so she can't have gotten too far."

I think you're just jealous I thought of it first. ;)

((damn straight I am! :P And thanks!))

A few more moments passed before the door slowly slid open, and Miss Sarah Caddick, future Tsaritsa of the Divine Imperium, nervously looked inside. She brightened somewhat on seeing that none of them were at each other's throats, and curtseyed to her parents, but still wanted one of them to say something first.

((Just so you know, Sarah hasn't spoken to her parents since the divorce. They've more or less disowned her...until just this moment, of course ;)))

The Underhawks couldn't think of anything to say to lessen the tension before Sarah walked in. Then her father lept from the sofa in a display of relief and enthusiasm.

"Sarah!" exclaimed Sir Richard, standing and spreading his arms for a hug. "My darling daughter! Come, give your father an embrace!"

Lady Underhawk hovered behind, a smile plastered on her face.

------

"My apologies, Premier Kim... she must be running to find her parents before Prince Daniel does something wrong..."

Peter's eyes narrowed at that, but he said nothing...surely he must have heard wrong!

He turned back to Premiers Kim and Bradsworth. "If we may shift this over to the salon?" He asked, brightly. "And... Lieutenant Longsworth, I'm sure that the happy couple would be overjoyed to see you..." he gestured to the passage-way Sarah had traveled down. "If you'd prefer to see her than listen to us politicians, then by all means... that hallway leads to only one room, so she can't have gotten too far."

Peter bowed. "Thank you, Prime Minister. Madame Premier, Mr Bradsworth, if you'll excuse me?" He was now positive that he had indeed heard wrong, but walked away quickly anyway.

"The salon sounds like a capital idea," said Bradsworth. "I trust you would like to accompany us, Madame Premier?"

Redford glanced down from the painting he had been admiring and smiled at the approching figures. He never had had much use for politics. "Hello, gentlemen," he said in his Gadsani accent. "I trust you're enjoying the evening?"

((damn straight I am! :P And thanks!))

((De nada.))



((Just so you know, Sarah hasn't spoken to her parents since the divorce. They've more or less disowned her...until just this moment, of course ;)))

The Underhawks couldn't think of anything to say to lessen the tension before Sarah walked in. Then her father lept from the sofa in a display of relief and enthusiasm.

"Sarah!" exclaimed Sir Richard, standing and spreading his arms for a hug. "My darling daughter! Come, give your father an embrace!"

Lady Underhawk hovered behind, a smile plastered on her face.

((Awww... don't they like the idea of their daughter becoming one of the most important women on Earth? :confused: Strange people. Daniel's acting the way he is because he's nervous that they'll yell at him. He's never been a particularly formal person.

He'd feel less nervous if they'd just yell at him like he expects them to so he can yell back at them and then they'd all just yell at each other so much that they'd run out of anger and then be willing to talk to each other. Besides, his future father-in-law calling him 'Your Majesty' is not a very pleasant experience.

And... let me guess. Sir Underhawk's looking for a small plot of land to call his own, far away from Weshield and the incoming horde of Shieldians.... I do have a couple of Counties empty, thanks to Messrs. Damien and Reinhart... :cool:Rapid promotion for the Underhawks, doncha think?))

The relief on Daniel's face was clearly visible. He gave a broad smile, silently thanking Sarah for rescuing him. He was at home on big podiums, addressing crowds or cutting ribbons. He was comfortable with a small group of friends. But in-laws? He couldn't cope.

Sarah almost gasped in surprise, but she loosely embraced her father and mother. "Um... Mother? Father?" She started, and then continued. "Thank you for coming here... I'd... um... like to personally introduce you to my fiance, Daniel..."
------

Peter bowed. "Thank you, Prime Minister. Madame Premier, Mr Bradsworth, if you'll excuse me?" He was now positive that he had indeed heard wrong, but walked away quickly anyway.

"The salon sounds like a capital idea," said Bradsworth. "I trust you would like to accompany us, Madame Premier?"

<Ho-hum... while I have your attention, you might be interested in checking the Africa thread. I got off my lazy arse and made it IC public knowledge, sort-a.>

Redford glanced down from the painting he had been admiring and smiled at the approching figures. He never had had much use for politics. "Hello, gentlemen," he said in his Gadsani accent. "I trust you're enjoying the evening?"

Aleksandr and Ali looked at one another. All three military men probably had little but contempt for the other two, but they masked it wonderfully. The gruff LCC shrugged. "I've enjoyed more satisfactory evenings... Politicians. Feh. They come and go like the tide, but the Divine Legion is forever."

Ali also shrugged. "I am most happy to be in the capital of our friends the Roanians. It is far superior in comforts to the front at Dos Ode."

Aleksandr almost snarled, "Roanians. Feh. Bunch of seedy desert runners, the lot of 'em. No offense, Sharif." It was clear the tall Derricker officer had meant every inch of offense, both to his fellow Imperials and to the Somali.

((Awww... don't they like the idea of their daughter becoming one of the most important women on Earth? :confused: Strange people. Daniel's acting the way he is because he's nervous that they'll yell at him. He's never been a particularly formal person.

He'd feel less nervous if they'd just yell at him like he expects them to so he can yell back at them and then they'd all just yell at each other so much that they'd run out of anger and then be willing to talk to each other. Besides, his future father-in-law calling him 'Your Majesty' is not a very pleasant experience.

And... let me guess. Sir Underhawk's looking for a small plot of land to call his own, far away from Weshield and the incoming horde of Shieldians.... I do have a couple of Counties empty, thanks to Messrs. Damien and Reinhart... :cool:Rapid promotion for the Underhawks, doncha think?))

The relief on Daniel's face was clearly visible. He gave a broad smile, silently thanking Sarah for rescuing him. He was at home on big podiums, addressing crowds or cutting ribbons. He was comfortable with a small group of friends. But in-laws? He couldn't cope.

Sarah almost gasped in surprise, but she loosely embraced her father and mother. "Um... Mother? Father?" She started, and then continued. "Thank you for coming here... I'd... um... like to personally introduce you to my fiance, Daniel..."

((Strange people from a strange culture. This's yet another blaring hypocracy built into Shieldian culture: family is one of the most important tenents of Shieldian life, but the moment someone "screws up" (ie: causes scandal for the family) they're more or less disowned. Go figure.

I don't think there'll be any yelling, because you're dead on. ;) Sir Richard is looking for protection from the Shadoranites for turning in Peter's parents to the Republic's "safety camp" (where, ironically, they were blown up by one Fultonian/Imitoran raid or another). The LAST thing he wants to do is offend Daniel or be anything other than the perfect Dad. Of course, next post I'm going to throw in Peter, who knows they betrayed his parents to their deaths, which ought to shake things up :).

Unless, of course, you'd rather I not.))

"Come now, sweetheart," said Lady Underhawk, "Do you really think we'd miss the r...the marriage of our very own daughter?"

"I've been speaking with His Ma - to Daniel here for a while," lied Sir Richard, "and I have to say that I couldn't approve more! You don't deserve anything less, princess."

Aleksandr and Ali looked at one another. All three military men probably had little but contempt for the other two, but they masked it wonderfully. The gruff LCC shrugged. "I've enjoyed more satisfactory evenings... Politicians. Feh. They come and go like the tide, but the Divine Legion is forever."

Ali also shrugged. "I am most happy to be in the capital of our friends the Roanians. It is far superior in comforts to the front at Dos Ode."

Aleksandr almost snarled, "Roanians. Feh. Bunch of seedy desert runners, the lot of 'em. No offense, Sharif." It was clear the tall Derricker officer had meant every inch of offense, both to his fellow Imperials and to the Somali.

Redford listened to Alekandr's rant without changing his smile in the slightest. He was quick, however, to try and change the subject.

"I've never been to Somolia," he said with a faint tone of interest. "My ship was stationed in Mombasa for some time during the war but I never really had the chance to travel out of Kenya."

For an RIN officer, Redford was a flaming liberal. Only his success during the war and the subsequent American war ensured his promotion to the captainship of one of Iansisle's ships of the line. Of course, now that Bradsworth and the Gull Flaggers were in power, that liberalism was quite the trait - but he didn't agree at all with Lawrence Madders ((no, I've not forgotten about him ;))) and his Grand Street Party, who wanted to do away with the monarchy and have a republic like the Weshieldians. Dangerous thoughts, those.

((I just saw the update in the Africa thread, but I'm too tired to do anything about it. Will reply tommorow.))

((Strange people from a strange culture. This's yet another blaring hypocracy built into Shieldian culture: family is one of the most important tenents of Shieldian life, but the moment someone "screws up" (ie: causes scandal for the family) they're more or less disowned. Go figure.

I don't think there'll be any yelling, because you're dead on. ;) Sir Richard is looking for protection from the Shadoranites for turning in Peter's parents to the Republic's "safety camp" (where, ironically, they were blown up by one Fultonian/Imitoran raid or another). The LAST thing he wants to do is offend Daniel or be anything other than the perfect Dad. Of course, next post I'm going to throw in Peter, who knows they betrayed his parents to their deaths, which ought to shake things up :).

Unless, of course, you'd rather I not.))

"Come now, sweetheart," said Lady Underhawk, "Do you really think we'd miss the r...the marriage of our very own daughter?"

"I've been speaking with His Ma - to Daniel here for a while," lied Sir Richard, "and I have to say that I couldn't approve more! You don't deserve anything less, princess."

((Anything to make pompous and lying people nervous... of course, Sarah would probably object to her parents being executed as traitors or repatriated back to the UK, both of which would be very serious possibilities considering that Weshield was never officially recognised as an independent state before the Rising.

Daniel probably wouldn't do that, though. If only to save on aerodyne tickets. Are you sure that they're not just racist? :confused: They'd probably think that she'd gone down in the world, what with marrying a Roanian and all. Of course, Imperials are far more accepting.

State-sponsored progroms, the two exiles of the Arabs, the use of the natives of the 'Fifth Duchy' for weapons testing and Damien Black (and the rest of his 'New Order') aside. ;) ))

Daniel almost beamed, overjoyed. 'Finally...we're connecting...' he thought, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "Thank you very much, Mr. Underhawk..." he said, happily.

Sarah smiled delightedly, and kissed her father. "Thank you, father!" She said, not noticing the strained way he had said the words. "I knew you would get along!" She stepped back from her father and kissed Lady Underhawk, embracing her again. "I missed you so much..."


Redford listened to Alekandr's rant without changing his smile in the slightest. He was quick, however, to try and change the subject.

"I've never been to Somolia," he said with a faint tone of interest. "My ship was stationed in Mombasa for some time during the war but I never really had the chance to travel out of Kenya."

For an RIN officer, Redford was a flaming liberal. Only his success during the war and the subsequent American war ensured his promotion to the captainship of one of Iansisle's ships of the line. Of course, now that Bradsworth and the Gull Flaggers were in power, that liberalism was quite the trait - but he didn't agree at all with Lawrence Madders ((no, I've not forgotten about him ;))) and his Grand Street Party, who wanted to do away with the monarchy and have a republic like the Weshieldians. Dangerous thoughts, those.

((I just saw the update in the Africa thread, but I'm too tired to do anything about it. Will reply tommorow.))

((Understood.))

Ali tilted his head on side. "You no go to Somalia? Oh, you must! Is very, how you say, beautiful! And now that Somali captives in Evil Empire of Haile Sellasie are free, it is very much larger! You like very much! No silly mountain-dwelling billy-goats to interfere!" This was how the Sharif talked. With no thought that some things were meant to be kept secret, or any sign of needing to breathe. "You go Somalia, go to Mogadishu! Big city! My cousin sell rugs! Sell rugs to robed merchants and to men in suits like Mr. Peter who was with you! Though not many of men in suits now, for some reason."

Aleksandr sighed, in the manner of a martyr. He decided not to press the battle of insults, and contented himself with explaining, "He means Aguan merchants from the Divine African Trading Coster, and... I think he means 'Company' men, but I didn't think they had any merchant's prowling East Africa."

"As I say! Robed merchants and to men in suits like Mr. Peter!" He put his head back up and eyed Redwood. "Perhap you go to Somalia, you go to my new estates?! I get many new ones for helping plan end of Evil Empire! With water and sand and mountains and..."

"Faith and Duty, Ali..." the LCC sighed, "but you do go rabbiting on..." he pulled a snuff box out of his pocket and offered a pinch to Redwood. Engraved on the box were Damien's personal arms, and the National Socialist Imperial Worker's Party motto, 'Purity through War!' A simple remnant of the old regime, or a sign of something more sinister? Either way, it marked Lord Captain Commander Aleksandr Mikhalovich Armenov as at least a member of the Fatherland Party within the disbanded National Bloc, if not of the outlawed NSIWP itself. "Snuff?"

Bradsworth looked over to where Peter was standing. The sun beaten young man looked positively relieved, as he had been standing rather uncomfortably.

“Lieutenant, may I introduce you to Premier Kim Eun-jin of East Islandia? Madame premier, may I present Lieutenant Peter Longwell of the Gallagan service?”

“Madame,” said Peter with a quick bow.

“The premier here was just reminding me that I’ve not the slightest idea how to recognize Madame Caddick,” said Bradsworth. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to point her out for us, lieutenant?”

“Um,” replied Peter, quickly scanning the crowd.

((sorry about all the delays. I *think* I'm done with all my work for this week, so hopefully I ought to have plenty of time to waste on NS for the next few days! ;)))

OOC
i wish i had time.. stupid college apps.

And can someone tell me about the Africa war and what The Underhawks are about?

*****
Kim bowed to Peter, and waited as he looked around.

"So complex!" Yuki exclaimed, as she watched the comings and goings and as they took a seat next to the Iansislean delegation. Her husband nodded in agreement, but as usual, said nothing. He was, after all, only a mere aerospace engineer, and really had nothing to say.

Kim handed the leis to the Roanian PM, and thanked him. "Please store them in a dark, moist place," she said. "They're best if not dried out...the scent is stronger that way."

She turned to Longwell. "Gallagan service?" she asked. "How is Gallaga? I recall that our forces left that land several hundred years ago with only a brief encounter with your nation."

"And what of the African war?" Yuki chimed in. "What news have you of that?"

Though they were leaders, the two really could act childish sometimes. At times like this, however, their guard was down; after all, it was a wedding.

Who would attempt character assassination at a wedding??

The Marquis checked him off the list. "Your Eminence, you do us honour with your presence." He clamped his hand over his heart. "With faith and duty."

Resuming his previous position, he looked around, searching for other heads of state. "I'm afraid that right now the Tsar is unavailable... who I could introduce to you depends on what capacity you're here as. Head of state, head of government?"

"Head of state, for all intents and purposes."

The Pope looks around apprehensively, and steadies himself on his platform shoes, a custom for LRR popes which will have only been dispensed with in the late 70's.

Rachel cradled Arthur close, rubbing his nose with her finger. "Who's a big boy?" The Princess asked, clearly in her element. "Where's his daddy?" She asked, poking him in the stomach. "Where's daddy, Arthur?"

The Royal Nanny said the Queen "Looks like I might get a break from duties if she goes on like that any further. It might even get her motivated to make her own". The Queen giggled "Kids always bring out the best in some people. Right honey?". The Regent was used to this and ignored all the backchat.

The Royal Nanny said Rachel "I see you want borrow Arthur for a little time?".


A watching Roanian Guardsmen quickly collared the offending reporter and handed him over to the Divine Legionnaire Special Palace Detachment for transfer to the Okrahna. A second reporter raised his hand. "Yes. Mikhail Ivanovich Ontsky, Novarian. Can the Divine Imperium rely on Jeruselem's support in the police action in Ethiopia against the tyrant Haile Sellasie?"

Victoria put out one of classic diplomatic responses "We are investigating our options in this case, but we support the removal of tyranny for the good of the common people wherever they may be. In this case, we do support Roania's actions to bring such a man to justice and the satisfaction of the oppressed peoples of Ethiopia."

Daniel almost beamed, overjoyed. 'Finally...we're connecting...' he thought, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "Thank you very much, Mr. Underhawk..." he said, happily.

Sarah smiled delightedly, and kissed her father. "Thank you, father!" She said, not noticing the strained way he had said the words. "I knew you would get along!" She stepped back from her father and kissed Lady Underhawk, embracing her again. "I missed you so much..."

((Oh, I’m sure that racism plays no small part in this, but you know the Shield: scandal first, all else second. ;)))

"It's hard," nodded Sir Richard, faux understandingly, "being in a new land, all by yourself. I can't tell you how relieved we are to find that you had such a wonderful protector during that terrible time."

Just then, there was a light knock on the door, which was pushed part of the way open.

"Sarah?" asked Peter's voice. "Are you in here?"

Lady Underhawk gasped slightly and held her hand to her chest. Sir Richard was also surprised and sucked in a deep breath.

The door opened all the way and Peter looked in. There was surprise too on his face, but it very quickly turned to rage. For a moment, there was murder in his eyes and he looked as if he were as ready to grab the nearest blunt object and strike Sir Richard until he stopped twitching as he were to say anything.

"You!" Peter managed to articulate at last, spitting the syllable out at Sir Richard like a bullet. "What in - " He had been about to swear, but Shieldian decorum prevented that in the presence of ladies, so he changed it to "What in the green hills of the Shield are YOU doing here?!"

Ali tilted his head on side. "You no go to Somalia? Oh, you must! Is very, how you say, beautiful! And now that Somali captives in Evil Empire of Haile Sellasie are free, it is very much larger! You like very much! No silly mountain-dwelling billy-goats to interfere!" This was how the Sharif talked. With no thought that some things were meant to be kept secret, or any sign of needing to breathe. "You go Somalia, go to Mogadishu! Big city! My cousin sell rugs! Sell rugs to robed merchants and to men in suits like Mr. Peter who was with you! Though not many of men in suits now, for some reason."

Aleksandr sighed, in the manner of a martyr. He decided not to press the battle of insults, and contented himself with explaining, "He means Aguan merchants from the Divine African Trading Coster, and... I think he means 'Company' men, but I didn't think they had any merchant's prowling East Africa."

"As I say! Robed merchants and to men in suits like Mr. Peter!" He put his head back up and eyed Redwood. "Perhap you go to Somalia, you go to my new estates?! I get many new ones for helping plan end of Evil Empire! With water and sand and mountains and..."

"Faith and Duty, Ali..." the LCC sighed, "but you do go rabbiting on..." he pulled a snuff box out of his pocket and offered a pinch to Redwood. Engraved on the box were Damien's personal arms, and the National Socialist Imperial Worker's Party motto, 'Purity through War!' A simple remnant of the old regime, or a sign of something more sinister? Either way, it marked Lord Captain Commander Aleksandr Mikhalovich Armenov as at least a member of the Fatherland Party within the disbanded National Bloc, if not of the outlawed NSIWP itself. "Snuff?"

Redford noted the NSIWP motto and stored it away for future use. Ever since Jerry attacked an Iansislean convoy and made off with Iansisle's jet engines to start the last war, National-Socialist anything had been in bad graces on the Shield. However, Redford didn't want to spoil the (at present) prevailing sense of fraternity by commenting on it.

He had been listening politely to Ali’s monologue, but had absorbed little of the chatter.

“Er, yes,” he replied, mostly to be polite, “If I am ever in Somolia, I shall be sure to visit your estates. They sound lovely. I don’t know what should take me out there, however: I have scant time but for official duties, and those keep me tied down to Home Fleet.”

He waved away the snuff box. “Not right now, thank you. I had a pinch just before coming.” Redford actually didn’t use the stuff, but figured a harmless white lie was better than insulting Alexandr.

“Speaking of the African war,” he went on pleasantly, “I trust that things continue to go well?”

OOC
i wish i had time.. stupid college apps.

And can someone tell me about the Africa war and what The Underhawks are about?

*****
Kim bowed to Peter, and waited as he looked around.

"So complex!" Yuki exclaimed, as she watched the comings and goings and as they took a seat next to the Iansislean delegation. Her husband nodded in agreement, but as usual, said nothing. He was, after all, only a mere aerospace engineer, and really had nothing to say.

Kim handed the leis to the Roanian PM, and thanked him. "Please store them in a dark, moist place," she said. "They're best if not dried out...the scent is stronger that way."

She turned to Longwell. "Gallagan service?" she asked. "How is Gallaga? I recall that our forces left that land several hundred years ago with only a brief encounter with your nation."

"And what of the African war?" Yuki chimed in. "What news have you of that?"

Though they were leaders, the two really could act childish sometimes. At times like this, however, their guard was down; after all, it was a wedding.

Who would attempt character assassination at a wedding??

((You’d have to ask Roania about the African war, I’m not positive. The Underhawks are the estranged parents of Sarah (the bride). Basically they disowned her because she divorced her previous husband (John Caddick, long story) to marry Daniel, but things turned sour on the Shield and they needed a place to run..so here they are :).

Hope your apps go well!))

“Gallaga is hot,” said Peter with a laugh, for the lack of anything more profound. “Though recently my duties have taken me into the Himalayas, where things are very cold. As for the African war...I’m afraid I don’t know much. Perhaps Prime Minister Darquis would be better situated to comment on that?” He looked at Simon.

On the news of Sarah, he excused himself as politely as possible when among world leaders and trotted off. Charles Bradsworth, however, remained to listen and comment when needed - or make Peter’s apologies.

OOC
i wish i had time.. stupid college apps.

And can someone tell me about the Africa war and what The Underhawks are about?

*****
Kim bowed to Peter, and waited as he looked around.

"So complex!" Yuki exclaimed, as she watched the comings and goings and as they took a seat next to the Iansislean delegation. Her husband nodded in agreement, but as usual, said nothing. He was, after all, only a mere aerospace engineer, and really had nothing to say.

Kim handed the leis to the Roanian PM, and thanked him. "Please store them in a dark, moist place," she said. "They're best if not dried out...the scent is stronger that way."

She turned to Longwell. "Gallagan service?" she asked. "How is Gallaga? I recall that our forces left that land several hundred years ago with only a brief encounter with your nation."

"And what of the African war?" Yuki chimed in. "What news have you of that?"

Though they were leaders, the two really could act childish sometimes. At times like this, however, their guard was down; after all, it was a wedding.

Who would attempt character assassination at a wedding??

Who would attempt character assassination at a wedding? Simon Octavius Darquis III, Prime Minister of the Divine Imperium and its Empire, that's who. If only for want of something to do. Of course, he had been playing against Princess Rachel Black for the past few weeks, so he was, neccessarily, too drained to even dream of it. Still, he managed to store the play between the two women away for future notice, should it be needed.

At the mention of the African war, Simon bit his tongue and narrowed his one usable eye. "The war goes well. Soon, that arch-fiend Emperor Haile Sellasie will be driven from Addas Addaba, and we can move on with the annexing and administration of the newly taken territories, especially those Somali so brutally torn from their homeland by the Ethiopians in the last war. And then... on to new fronts." He wouldn't be drawn any further on that subject, though. "After all, if the years of the New Order have taught us anything, it is that democracy must be defended and propagated across the world."

And so saying, he snapped his fingers and some servants ran off to put the leis in one of the cellars.

"Head of state, for all intents and purposes."

The Pope looks around apprehensively, and steadies himself on his platform shoes, a custom for LRR popes which will have only been dispensed with in the late 70's.

"Ah..." The marquis looked at the shoes disapprovingly, and pointed to a set of flat-soled slippers. "The kremlin is most fragile, my lord." Returning to his list. "Well, as Head of State... I could introduce you to the Lord Regent, Archduke Darquis... he's the Imperium's head of state until the coronation ceremony. If you'd prefer someone of a more religious bent... I could introduce you to the head of the Catholic Church of Novar Ohan, Patriarch Dmitri II..."

The Royal Nanny said the Queen "Looks like I might get a break from duties if she goes on like that any further. It might even get her motivated to make her own". The Queen giggled "Kids always bring out the best in some people. Right honey?". The Regent was used to this and ignored all the backchat.

The Royal Nanny said Rachel "I see you want borrow Arthur for a little time?".

Rachel tickled the baby. "Really?" She asked, delighted. "Aww... he's giggling..." she poked his nose again. "I love babies."



Victoria put out one of classic diplomatic responses "We are investigating our options in this case, but we support the removal of tyranny for the good of the common people wherever they may be. In this case, we do support Roania's actions to bring such a man to justice and the satisfaction of the oppressed peoples of Ethiopia."

"Yes, but the question was, could the Divine Imperium rely on materiel support for the prosecution of this war? Perhaps that could be delivered across Suez and into the ports at the Divine Arabic Territory?"

A tall, hawk-like man coughed then. "That is not a question we will be asking, Mr. Ivanovich. I am sure that the Royal Family is most exhausted by their flight, and would like to enter the palace now."

((Oh, I’m sure that racism plays no small part in this, but you know the Shield: scandal first, all else second. ;)))

"It's hard," nodded Sir Richard, faux understandingly, "being in a new land, all by yourself. I can't tell you how relieved we are to find that you had such a wonderful protector during that terrible time."

Just then, there was a light knock on the door, which was pushed part of the way open.

"Sarah?" asked Peter's voice. "Are you in here?"

Lady Underhawk gasped slightly and held her hand to her chest. Sir Richard was also surprised and sucked in a deep breath.

The door opened all the way and Peter looked in. There was surprise too on his face, but it very quickly turned to rage. For a moment, there was murder in his eyes and he looked as if he were as ready to grab the nearest blunt object and strike Sir Richard until he stopped twitching as he were to say anything.

"You!" Peter managed to articulate at last, spitting the syllable out at Sir Richard like a bullet. "What in - " He had been about to swear, but Shieldian decorum prevented that in the presence of ladies, so he changed it to "What in the green hills of the Shield are YOU doing here?!"

Daniel's first instinct had been to raise his hand and snap in a pair of guards to remove this shouting madman, but Sarah had put her hand in his and gently brought it back down to the kitten, which had simply ignored the shouting and curled up in the prince's lap. The young woman looked confused. "Peter, why wouldn't they be here? We sent them an invitation and everything..."

Daniel grumpily stroked the cat, sure that he wasn't going to like whatever news was about to break upon what should be a happy day. Lifting himself to his feet, he began to inch carefully to the door, but froze in his place when Sarah signaled him with a glance. "Um... Mr. Longsworth, remember there are ladies present..." he contented himself with admonishing.

The future princess put on a fake smile and turned to face Peter, trying to mask the terror and confusion within her. "Peter, what happened? You look like you've seen a ghost..."



Redford noted the NSIWP motto and stored it away for future use. Ever since Jerry attacked an Iansislean convoy and made off with Iansisle's jet engines to start the last war, National-Socialist anything had been in bad graces on the Shield. However, Redford didn't want to spoil the (at present) prevailing sense of fraternity by commenting on it.

He had been listening politely to Ali’s monologue, but had absorbed little of the chatter.

“Er, yes,” he replied, mostly to be polite, “If I am ever in Somolia, I shall be sure to visit your estates. They sound lovely. I don’t know what should take me out there, however: I have scant time but for official duties, and those keep me tied down to Home Fleet.”

He waved away the snuff box. “Not right now, thank you. I had a pinch just before coming.” Redford actually didn’t use the stuff, but figured a harmless white lie was better than insulting Alexandr.

“Speaking of the African war,” he went on pleasantly, “I trust that things continue to go well?”

"If by well you mean we've managed to push them back into their interior and have almost succeeded in putting a complete ring around the country so that all border fortifications fly our flag, then yes." Aleksandr replied, drily. "Within a few weeks, Ethiopia will be a protectorate under our flag and the Somalis within will be re-united with their kinsfolk."

"And then! All Somalis will be united in Greater Somalia! So Lord Captain Commander Armenov promised!"

"Quite." The LCC present was an interesting shade of purple at the mention of the colonial LCC. "Of course, the war will continue... there are other fronts being opened even as we speak."

((You’d have to ask Roania about the African war, I’m not positive. The Underhawks are the estranged parents of Sarah (the bride). Basically they disowned her because she divorced her previous husband (John Caddick, long story) to marry Daniel, but things turned sour on the Shield and they needed a place to run..so here they are :).

Hope your apps go well!))

((Essentially, the Divine Imperium's looking to engage in a shock-conquest of the entire Horn of Africa, and Liberia, and any other independent African states they can find on a map for good measure. The stated goal is similar to that behind the Walmingtonian and Shieldian invasion of the US of A, and the Imperial invasion of Hawai'i and Alaska.

Of course, the African states will be more like Alaska than Micronesia. Except for Ethiopia, which is going to be handed over to the Sheikh of Mogadishu as a personal fief.

In reality, it's all practice for something much bigger, and much, much scarier for our friend Ian here... something he can only guess about. Heh. Heh heh. BWA HA HA HA HA HA!))

Daniel's first instinct had been to raise his hand and snap in a pair of guards to remove this shouting madman, but Sarah had put her hand in his and gently brought it back down to the kitten, which had simply ignored the shouting and curled up in the prince's lap. The young woman looked confused. "Peter, why wouldn't they be here? We sent them an invitation and everything..."

Daniel grumpily stroked the cat, sure that he wasn't going to like whatever news was about to break upon what should be a happy day. Lifting himself to his feet, he began to inch carefully to the door, but froze in his place when Sarah signaled him with a glance. "Um... Mr. Longsworth, remember there are ladies present..." he contented himself with admonishing.

The future princess put on a fake smile and turned to face Peter, trying to mask the terror and confusion within her. "Peter, what happened? You look like you've seen a ghost..."

((Longwell ;)))

"Why can't they be here?" he raged incoherently, spittle flying from his mouth. It wasn't often that a Shieldian was reduced to an absolute mindless anger, but there was little stopping it once it started.

"Seen ghosts?" Peter managed at last. "Yes, yes, I have - three of them, and I know on whose hands I see the bloodstains!"

He still couldn't quite bring himself to explain, but just pointed at the Underhawks.

"Quite." The LCC present was an interesting shade of purple at the mention of the colonial LCC. "Of course, the war will continue... there are other fronts being opened even as we speak."

Redford was on his guard at once. "Other fronts?" he asked, managing to keep his voice nonchalant. Control of one's vocal inflections was a talent needed especially among diplomats, politicians, and navy captains. "Do tell; in what direction has the Imperium decided to expand this time?"

((Longwell ;)))

"Why can't they be here?" he raged incoherently, spittle flying from his mouth. It wasn't often that a Shieldian was reduced to an absolute mindless anger, but there was little stopping it once it started.

"Seen ghosts?" Peter managed at last. "Yes, yes, I have - three of them, and I know on whose hands I see the bloodstains!"

He still couldn't quite bring himself to explain, but just pointed at the Underhawks.

((I take it you won't accept that it was an IC error?:P))

Sarah looked at her parents helplessly. "Mother, father... what is he talking about...?" She asked, hoping her friend wasn't ill. "Peter, please... calm down..."

Daniel perked up, slightly. He might get a chance to do something regal! Or at least pay enough attention to make a sudden vanishing act if things looked like they were going to get worse.



Redford was on his guard at once. "Other fronts?" he asked, managing to keep his voice nonchalant. Control of one's vocal inflections was a talent needed especially among diplomats, politicians, and navy captains. "Do tell; in what direction has the Imperium decided to expand this time?"

"Can't say. Security." The captain replied, knowingly. "And I don't know. Naval matter. All I know is something's going on around the Horn. I think that something might be happening on the Arabian Peninsula, but from what I know that's just putting down a berber revolt against our chosen Sultan."

Ali, however, was in no way willing to be silent. "Yes! Around big horn at bottom of Africa! Not small horn! Through other ocean, and up up up!"

Rachel tickled the baby. "Really?" She asked, delighted. "Aww... he's giggling..." she poked his nose again. "I love babies."
."

The Royal Nanny said "The Queen is happy is for you to indulge your maternal instincts. He is very active and really likes running about, so don't leave any sharp objects about. He prefer a special milk formula as cow milk sometimes upsets his little tummy"


"Yes, but the question was, could the Divine Imperium rely on materiel support for the prosecution of this war? Perhaps that could be delivered across Suez and into the ports at the Divine Arabic Territory?"

A tall, hawk-like man coughed then. "That is not a question we will be asking, Mr. Ivanovich. I am sure that the Royal Family is most exhausted by their flight, and would like to enter the palace now."

Victoria thanked the press "I'll be speaking more tomorrow about our response in detail but for now it's been a long day and this matter can wait. God bless Roania on behalf of the Royal family.".

Outside the press huddle ...

Jeruselem Government New reporter Anna Goldstein was reporting "Good evening, this is Anna Goldstein for JGN. I am in Roania for reporting on the Royal wedding of Tzar or Roania where our Queen is also attending. I'm speaking to a resident here about his feelings".

Anna: Your name is?
Resident: Father Paisley
Anna: Minister of the Protestant Church, sir?
Resident: Actually Anglican, but then we Anglicans get lumped in with Catholics anyway.
Anna: Your impression?
Resident: It's good news, after the civil wars and all. God has designated the Tzar's partner in life
Anna: And your impression of our leader.
Resident: A lovely woman with strange personality. Most Catholic female leaders I have met are often too austere in public life and sometimes distant from the public. She's more like the movie star or beauty Queen type but with the brains of Queen Victoria
Anna: Queen Victoria of England? That's an interesting call.
Resident: Victoria was reclusive really, but your leader was born for the public eye. Some folks thinks she's 25 around here.
Anna: Your impression of Miss Sarah Caddick?
Resident: A woman in touch with common people but with not overawed by the limelight of Imperial life.
Anna: I heard you know Cardinal Augustus Brown?
Resident: Actually, a distant relative. I have visit the Holy Land one day, but don't have the excuse to go over there yet.
Anna: Why?
Resident: My Church needs more funds for these things. We are in poor neighbourhood and my flock are too poor to help out.
Anna: Thank you for you time.
Resident: God bless you.

Anna turns the camera back to the action. "As you see, the Royal family are now inside and resting for the day. Later tonight we will speak to a senior member of the Roanian Catholic church about what this means to the Catholics of Roania. This is Anna Goldstein signing off for JGN and as we say God bless you"

"Ah..." The marquis looked at the shoes disapprovingly, and pointed to a set of flat-soled slippers. "The kremlin is most fragile, my lord." Returning to his list. "Well, as Head of State... I could introduce you to the Lord Regent, Archduke Darquis... he's the Imperium's head of state until the coronation ceremony. If you'd prefer someone of a more religious bent... I could introduce you to the head of the Catholic Church of Novar Ohan, Patriarch Dmitri II..."

"Whoever is available...I think the policies of my country regarding religion might be too out there for most people."

Sarah looked at her parents helplessly. "Mother, father... what is he talking about...?" She asked, hoping her friend wasn't ill. "Peter, please... calm down..."

Daniel perked up, slightly. He might get a chance to do something regal! Or at least pay enough attention to make a sudden vanishing act if things looked like they were going to get worse.

"Why, Sarah?" asked Peter. His white-hot rage was gone now and replaced by a mocking sarcasm. "Haven't they told you?"

Sir Richard held Sarah by the shoulder as if to protect her from her best (non-Daniel) friend.

"Haven't mommy and daddy told you how they betrayed my parents and baby sister to their death?" Peter continued. "Just so they could continue to grow fat and happy on their lands?"

"Now, that's simply not true!" said Sir Richard at last. "See here, I demand you retract those...those libelous statements at once!"


"Can't say. Security." The captain replied, knowingly. "And I don't know. Naval matter. All I know is something's going on around the Horn. I think that something might be happening on the Arabian Peninsula, but from what I know that's just putting down a berber revolt against our chosen Sultan."

Ali, however, was in no way willing to be silent. "Yes! Around big horn at bottom of Africa! Not small horn! Through other ocean, and up up up!"

The Cape of Good Hope? wondered Redford. He didn't like that notion one little bit - everyone new the Cape was Walmingtonian territory, as was most of the African Atlantic coast. But he thought it best to pretent as if Ali hadn't reveled any critical information, or that he hadn't understood it.

"Funny the way he rambles on, isn't it?" he said instead, addressing Alexandr. "I know many Gallagans just like him - most amusing fellows."

The Royal Nanny said "The Queen is happy is for you to indulge your maternal instincts. He is very active and really likes running about, so don't leave any sharp objects about. He prefer a special milk formula as cow milk sometimes upsets his little tummy"

Rachel poked the little baby again, and watched as he laughed. "Awww... he's adorable..." she listened to the instructions, and nodded happily. "I'll take good care of him... if the Royal Family would be pleased to follow me?" She led them in-doors, quite deliberately shutting the huge oak entrance in the face of the media. 'How I hate reporters.'

"Whoever is available...I think the policies of my country regarding religion might be too out there for most people."

"Ah... hrm... please follow me, Eminence," the marquis answered, walking over to a tall, heavily bearded man sipping from a glass of vodka. "Your grace, I have the honour to present Pope Entwhistle of Lunatic Retard Robots. Your eminence, may I present Viceroy Ivan Darquis?"

The viceroy bowed slightly. "Charmed, eminence."

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v369/Roania/RedCross.jpg
Darquis Family Coat of Arms

"Why, Sarah?" asked Peter. His white-hot rage was gone now and replaced by a mocking sarcasm. "Haven't they told you?"

Sir Richard held Sarah by the shoulder as if to protect her from her best (non-Daniel) friend.

"Haven't mommy and daddy told you how they betrayed my parents and baby sister to their death?" Peter continued. "Just so they could continue to grow fat and happy on their lands?"

"Now, that's simply not true!" said Sir Richard at last. "See here, I demand you retract those...those libelous statements at once!"

Daniel had stopped paying attention. Instead he was feeling along the underside of the chair for the emergency button. (The emergency button, when pressed, calls guards in shrieking there's an emergency, providing the ruler with a quick get-a-way.)) Not finding it, he sighed. "Mr. Longwell, I really must insist that... Sarah?"

Sarah had backed into a corner, away from both Peter and her parents. "Is... is this true?" She asked Richard, stunned.

Daniel growled, and felt along the bottom of a chair for a second button, which called guards in to arrest everybody and then things would be sorted out later. He couldn't find that one, either. He silently scowled. "Mr. Longwell, these are very serious accusations you make... I hope you have some proof?"


The Cape of Good Hope? wondered Redford. He didn't like that notion one little bit - everyone new the Cape was Walmingtonian territory, as was most of the African Atlantic coast. But he thought it best to pretent as if Ali hadn't reveled any critical information, or that he hadn't understood it.

"Funny the way he rambles on, isn't it?" he said instead, addressing Alexandr. "I know many Gallagans just like him - most amusing fellows."

"Yes. Gallagans." Aleksandr saw that Ali was about to open his mouth and solidly tread on his toe. "Worse mistake we made with the Somalis was teaching them a civilised tongue..."

Ali fell into sullen silence. Aleksandr nodded, satisfied. Then he turned to Redford. "So... you'd be a captain in the UK's Navy, correct?"

“They are true; I would swear it by my life,” continued Peter, though he had calmed down somewhat. “I do not have direct proof with me - Heaven knows I did not think I should need it! - but such does exist.”

“I have never killed anyone in my entire life!” replied Sir Richard hotly, whose house had been a popular destination during Peter’s youth. “And frankly, for a Gallagan Army officer to level such accusations! - I’ve read about your participation in the Troubles, Longwell!”

“Do not try to change the subject!” roared Peter in reply. “I know that you betrayed my parents and baby sister to the Republic’s camps! You may not have pulled the trigger, but their blood is still on your hands!”

------

“The Royal Iansislean Navy,” said Redford firmly. It was a minor point, but Lawrence Madders’ department had tried several times to get the name changed to the “Shieldian Navy,” which had joined the reactionary old guard and Redford’s own new officers together in a bizarre alliance of opposition. So long as a King ruled in Dûn Ádien, they vowed, it would be His Iansislean Majesty’s Navy.

“I am master of His Iansislean Majesty Ship Princess Royal,” continued Redford, not wishing to dwell on the correction or Ali’s possibly compromising statements. “I’m afraid that I am not aware of Legionary ranks, however.”

Who would attempt character assassination at a wedding? Simon Octavius Darquis III, Prime Minister of the Divine Imperium and its Empire, that's who. If only for want of something to do. Of course, he had been playing against Princess Rachel Black for the past few weeks, so he was, neccessarily, too drained to even dream of it. Still, he managed to store the play between the two women away for future notice, should it be needed.

At the mention of the African war, Simon bit his tongue and narrowed his one usable eye. "The war goes well. Soon, that arch-fiend Emperor Haile Sellasie will be driven from Addas Addaba, and we can move on with the annexing and administration of the newly taken territories, especially those Somali so brutally torn from their homeland by the Ethiopians in the last war. And then... on to new fronts." He wouldn't be drawn any further on that subject, though. "After all, if the years of the New Order have taught us anything, it is that democracy must be defended and propagated across the world."

And so saying, he snapped his fingers and some servants ran off to put the leis in one of the cellars.

"Annexing, eh?" Kim asked, tapping her fingers together and taking a sip of a nearby glass. "How...American."

Yuki grinned. "Yes," she agreed. "We do remember a time when America made one of our territories a 'protectorate', and gave them weapons and support. Were it not for the lack of popularity for the president at that time, we would have faced carriers and American Marines storming into our beaches and jungles."

"And we lost anyway," Kim said. "A bit of advice for you, from a jungle-grade paratrooper: the rainforest is not a good place to be if the people you are fighting know every way in, out, and hate you fanatically. Killing every single one of them would be easier."

"Ah... hrm... please follow me, Eminence," the marquis answered, walking over to a tall, heavily bearded man sipping from a glass of vodka. "Your grace, I have the honour to present Pope Entwhistle of Lunatic Retard Robots. Your eminence, may I present Viceroy Ivan Darquis?"

The viceroy bowed slightly. "Charmed, eminence."

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v369/Roania/RedCross.jpg
Darquis Family Coat of Arms

"The pleasure is all mine, Viceroy," says Pope Entwistle, still trailing his significant entourage, with world-class chefs bringing up the rear. "So, who are these people being wed? I hear they are of prominence. Excuse me if I am uninformed, but it takes a while for news to reach my halls this time of year. Telephone wires are sometimes snapped by ice, and groundlines have yet to be laid to the Taj II."

“They are true; I would swear it by my life,” continued Peter, though he had calmed down somewhat. “I do not have direct proof with me - Heaven knows I did not think I should need it! - but such does exist.”

“I have never killed anyone in my entire life!” replied Sir Richard hotly, whose house had been a popular destination during Peter’s youth. “And frankly, for a Gallagan Army officer to level such accusations! - I’ve read about your participation in the Troubles, Longwell!”

“Do not try to change the subject!” roared Peter in reply. “I know that you betrayed my parents and baby sister to the Republic’s camps! You may not have pulled the trigger, but their blood is still on your hands!”

Daniel rose to his feet, and politely nodded to Peter. "Mr. Longwell, a word with you outside, if you please." He gestured to the door, and almost pulled the older man out through sheer force of will. Once they were both safely ensconced outside, the future Tsar of the Divine Imperium closed the thick oak door, checking to make sure that there would be no holes that sounds could enter the sitting room.

Turning to face Peter, Daniel then calmly, and regally, lost his temper. "I want to hear every scrap of evidence you have. And I want to hear it now. Do you," he hissed, his blue eyes narrowing to slits, "have any idea what you're doing? Sarah was overjoyed to have her parents here. I didn't think that she'd be... so relieved that they were no longer 'cutting' her, as I believe it's termed. Now, if you expect me to let you march in there and demand they be sent away, or worse, arrested... I expect you to have some sort of evidence on your person, or within reach, or at the very least you can tell me why you have made such horrific allegations.." Daniel was beyond enraged, his eyes flashing like hot coals. This... this man had waltzed right into the parlour, and as good as demanded he place his in-laws under arrest! Right in front of Sarah, no less. Why, the shock might kill her! Or, at the very least, make her cancel the wedding.

"Do you have such a thing?" the Prince asked, visibly throttling back his fury. "Da, or nyet? Yes, or no?"

Daniel was slowly realising that he wasn't likely to get out of this with out having someone arrested.

~~

Sarah just stared at her parents, still in shock. Finally, she said, "Don't... don't worry, Daniel will take care of this..." She collapsed into the seat. "I'm sure Peter doesn't mean it... he's... he's just under lots of stress... why would he accuse you of killing his family? It doesn't make sense..."

------

“The Royal Iansislean Navy,” said Redford firmly. It was a minor point, but Lawrence Madders’ department had tried several times to get the name changed to the “Shieldian Navy,” which had joined the reactionary old guard and Redford’s own new officers together in a bizarre alliance of opposition. So long as a King ruled in Dûn Ádien, they vowed, it would be His Iansislean Majesty’s Navy.

“I am master of His Iansislean Majesty Ship Princess Royal,” continued Redford, not wishing to dwell on the correction or Ali’s possibly compromising statements. “I’m afraid that I am not aware of Legionary ranks, however.”

"Ah. I am Lord Captain Commander Aleksandr Armenov. You... if the UK does have an army," there was no contempt in his tone, of course. Just pity. Every Imperial Officer knew that the Shield had no infantry worthy of the name, "you would term me a... Lieutenant General. I command, right now, the 1st Corps."

((Unless you've gone all Napoleonic on me... which would be fair, because my navy's begun a massive improvement campaign... Divine Navy Motto: Parity with the Shieldians by 1962.))

"Annexing, eh?" Kim asked, tapping her fingers together and taking a sip of a nearby glass. "How...American."

Yuki grinned. "Yes," she agreed. "We do remember a time when America made one of our territories a 'protectorate', and gave them weapons and support. Were it not for the lack of popularity for the president at that time, we would have faced carriers and American Marines storming into our beaches and jungles."

"And we lost anyway," Kim said. "A bit of advice for you, from a jungle-grade paratrooper: the rainforest is not a good place to be if the people you are fighting know every way in, out, and hate you fanatically. Killing every single one of them would be easier."

"We have had much experience in the jungle, Premier Kim," Simon said, diplomatically. "The Native Revolts in the INM have been studied carefully for use of future tactics. And, if all else fails... we can always 're-arrange the terrain', as I believe the military command is for such an instance. As to your charges of Americanism... we like to think that we can offer more to our colonies than just being used as puppets for corporations." This was a barely concealed dig at Bradsworth. "Sheikh Abdullahkassim of Mogadishu, and the President of the Micronesian Protectorate, would both tell you how priveleged their nations are. With the re-conquest of Zemyla, and Hawai'i, our flag now helps guide millions of former Americans to true democracy. What other Empire could..."

He spied the Princess walking through the door, carrying a burbling little baby. "...if you'll excuse me, I need to speak to my fellow organiser..."

"The pleasure is all mine, Viceroy," says Pope Entwistle, still trailing his significant entourage, with world-class chefs bringing up the rear. "So, who are these people being wed? I hear they are of prominence. Excuse me if I am uninformed, but it takes a while for news to reach my halls this time of year. Telephone wires are sometimes snapped by ice, and groundlines have yet to be laid to the Taj II."

The viceroy snapped his fingers in reply, and several dozen servants appeared as if by nowhere, taking the entourage to a variety of locations. "Our glorious future Tsar, Daniel II, has chosen to take as his bride Miss Sarah Caddick of the United Kingdom of the Shield," Ivan intoned.

The Second Autocrat of the Divine Imperium was a very unusual man for his position. Standing at nearly 6'4", he was dressed in a cotton kaftan, a fashion generally found more amongst the Guild than the aristocracy. His beard, for all its size, was well-kept, and several rings sparkled on his fingers. He looked like a man who had stepped from the days of the first Imperium.

Court-gossip was that Ivan was at least mildly deranged. But if that was the case, it was one of the happy ones. He took Entwhistle's hand in a firm handshake, almost crushing the other man's palm before releasing. "Good to see you, Eminence. Always glad to see our cousins from the Mother Country."

((OOC: Mother Country, in Aguan parlance, is Russia. By way of contrast, Novar Ohan -which is actually a Novarian name meaning 'Land Where the Moon Rises- is referred to as 'the Great Imperial Homeland, True Heir to the East'.

Modesty does not figure much in the Aguan language.))

"Oh...thankyou," says Entwistle, not really knowing what the mother country was.

"So, will this unite the Shield and Roania under one ruler? You'd be practically unstoppable in that case. What's this about rebellions in Iansisle as a whole? I've been hearing a lot about it but not many specifics."

"Yes, do tell," Yuki said in addition to Pope Entwhistle's comment. Kim was still smarting over the Roanian's comments to her about their extensive experience in rainforest operations, but presently, she shrugged and dismissed it with a wave of her hand.

More pressing were the accusations leveled by Longwell, against Sarah's parents...were they Sarah's parents? Kim wondered to herself. She was confused, and out of her depth; sadly, her foreign minister had to leave in the middle, for an abrupt crisis elsewhere, and she found herself stuck.

"Everyone here seems to know each other," she said to an Iansislean sitting next to her. "Do your two nations (Roania and Iansisle) have very much contact?"

Peter’s mouth flapped open and shut for a few seconds. Of course he didn’t have any of the letters from his parents after they had been taken to the camp with him! - why would he carry such things around in his dress uniform?

“The evidence is in my apartment, in Nusheld,” said Peter firmly, “but I can tell you why I have leveled these accusations; nay, confronted them with the truth. To save their own worthless hides, those peo - the Underhawks - betrayed my parents and baby sister; they gave their hiding place up to the Republic in exchange for favor. They were sent to a camp which was attacked by the Imitorans and died in the resulting holocaust.”

His eyes narrowed. “I do not ask you to send them away or have them arrested; all I ask is the chance to avenge my family in the time-honored manner.”

------

There was certainly no love lost between the RIN and the RIAC; Redford actually smiled at the joke. “Quite. It’s a pleasure, Lord...Captain... Commander.”

He decided to fill in the uncomfortable silence in the only appropriate way for a Shieldian talking to a Roanian - by talking about the sea.

“I have found being away from Princess Royal tends to make me homesick,” said Redford. “There’s nothing quite like it: the spray of salt and wind in your face, the deck rolling under you like you’re dancing with a beautiful young lady. It’s the most ...noble experience possible, if you ask me.”

((I don’t know about ‘all-Napoleonic,’ but we’ve an actual census now, so the chance of a real draft (rather than our usual means of press gangs ;)) exists for the first time. There’s also the better chance of advancement on ability rather than blood, so we’ll probably see an across the board improvement in Iansislean officer quality, too. In conclusion, yes, the army is getting better/bigger, but you’re still free to mock it, and I’ll continue to mock your navy, no matter how big/good it gets.))

-----

"For our part, yes," said Bradsworth to Kim. "Mansmouth, that great port of the west Shield, is just a handful of miles across the Marches from Whiteport in Novar Ohun.

"However - how shall I say this? The Divine Imperium and Iansisle have had their ..disagreements on the best manner of governance and civilization in the past."

((I think Peter and Daniel are in a different room, EI. Not sure, though; you'd have to ask Roania. That's just my general impression. ;)))

The Regent and Queen Mariah were settling into their room while the servant were unpacking their bags. The two Inquisition members were guarding the door while Victoria was hooking in her laptop into DOtF satellite network. The Islamic Cleric was accommodated nearby in a more humble and smaller room for his needs.

The Royal Nanny was helping Princess Rachel with her stint as baby sitter. "You found anyone to start a family yet, Rachel? You'll make a very natural mother if have child." the Nanny asked the Princess while preparing the special milk formula for Prince Arthur for local materials. Prince Arthur was all quiet and looking tired from his flight from Jeruselem. He fell asleep in the Princess's arms.

"Oh...thankyou," says Entwistle, not really knowing what the mother country was.

"So, will this unite the Shield and Roania under one ruler? You'd be practically unstoppable in that case. What's this about rebellions in Iansisle as a whole? I've been hearing a lot about it but not many specifics."

At the mere *suggestion* that the glorious Divine Imperium unite with the barbarians across the White Sea, the aged man spat his vodka clear across the room, through one of the Hawaiian Tiki torches, and scorching the wall right next to a rather luckless Margrave. "Are you daft, man? I mean, apart from the fact that Miss Sarah's only the daughter of a Baronet... why would we want more Anglo-Saxons than we already have?"

Peter’s mouth flapped open and shut for a few seconds. Of course he didn’t have any of the letters from his parents after they had been taken to the camp with him! - why would he carry such things around in his dress uniform?

“The evidence is in my apartment, in Nusheld,” said Peter firmly, “but I can tell you why I have leveled these accusations; nay, confronted them with the truth. To save their own worthless hides, those peo - the Underhawks - betrayed my parents and baby sister; they gave their hiding place up to the Republic in exchange for favor. They were sent to a camp which was attacked by the Imitorans and died in the resulting holocaust.”

His eyes narrowed. “I do not ask you to send them away or have them arrested; all I ask is the chance to avenge my family in the time-honored manner.”

Daniel opened and shut his mouth repeatedly, searching for words. "Mr. Longwell, I'm really not the right person to ap... I mean, but of course! I'll speak to Mr. Bradsworth about this... until I do, though, I'm placing both of the Caddicks under my personal protection..." he looked troubled. "As you can imagine, though, under the circumstances it becomes difficult for me to allow you to speak to my fiancee..." he snapped his fingers and a servant appeared out of nowhere. "For God's Sake, man! Make sounds when you walk!" He snapped, clearly on edge.

He scribbled some words on a pad of paper he had taken from out of his pocket, and gave it the servant. "Run, don't walk, to find Premier Bradsworth and Prime Minister Darquis. Is that clear?" The servant ran off. 'We'll just see what Bradsworth has to say about this...' Unlike many monarchs would, Daniel had a fairly high opinion of the reforming Prime Minister of the Shield. He was sure that the man wouldn't stand for this.

------

There was certainly no love lost between the RIN and the RIAC; Redford actually smiled at the joke. “Quite. It’s a pleasure, Lord...Captain... Commander.”

He decided to fill in the uncomfortable silence in the only appropriate way for a Shieldian talking to a Roanian - by talking about the sea.

“I have found being away from Princess Royal tends to make me homesick,” said Redford. “There’s nothing quite like it: the spray of salt and wind in your face, the deck rolling under you like you’re dancing with a beautiful young lady. It’s the most ...noble experience possible, if you ask me.”

((I don’t know about ‘all-Napoleonic,’ but we’ve an actual census now, so the chance of a real draft (rather than our usual means of press gangs ;)) exists for the first time. There’s also the better chance of advancement on ability rather than blood, so we’ll probably see an across the board improvement in Iansislean officer quality, too. In conclusion, yes, the army is getting better/bigger, but you’re still free to mock it, and I’ll continue to mock your navy, no matter how big/good it gets.))

((Since when have drafts made an army better? ;) Bah. It worked for the British, it'll probably work for you. I'll just content myself with making my medium-sized active force even better equipped. Still, I'm reasonably confident of grabbing the lead in air...

And I've got the perfect motto for the RIAC: #2 and proud of it! :mp5:))

"Ah, yes... the sea. Lovely place, really..." The LCC's eyes misted over. "Days in Whiteport, gazing across at those distant cliffs..." he diplomatically refrained from adding 'wondering about artillery trajectories.' "But ich. Too many Guilders around the place now. Guilders, and even those bloody-desert rats have started to buy summer homes on the White Sea."

He sighed. "Still, we live in 'modern' times, so they tell me... you Shieldians had the right idea when you dealt with your Company."

-----

"For our part, yes," said Bradsworth to Kim. "Mansmouth, that great port of the west Shield, is just a handful of miles across the Marches from Whiteport in Novar Ohun.

"However - how shall I say this? The Divine Imperium and Iansisle have had their ..disagreements on the best manner of governance and civilization in the past."

((I think Peter and Daniel are in a different room, EI. Not sure, though; you'd have to ask Roania. That's just my general impression. ;)))

((In a locked corridor, though that doesn't stop the servants... And 'disagreements'? Hello... who sent a smarmy fruitbox just because I had a woman elected as Prime Minister? You don't even give women the vote!))

The Regent and Queen Mariah were settling into their room while the servant were unpacking their bags. The two Inquisition members were guarding the door while Victoria was hooking in her laptop into DOtF satellite network. The Islamic Cleric was accommodated nearby in a more humble and smaller room for his needs.

The Royal Nanny was helping Princess Rachel with her stint as baby sitter. "You found anyone to start a family yet, Rachel? You'll make a very natural mother if have child." the Nanny asked the Princess while preparing the special milk formula for Prince Arthur for local materials. Prince Arthur was all quiet and looking tired from his flight from Jeruselem. He fell asleep in the Princess's arms.

Rachel blushed, and looked like she was about to answer, when the door suddenly slammed open. Simon Darquis, Prime Minister of the Divine Imperium, rushed inside, sweat almost pouring from his brow. "Rachel! Emergency! Badness! Organising schedule! Kaput! Team you sent out to find entertainment, it's back! And... and... Mon dieu!"

The Princess sighed, and, with a downward look, passed the infant back to the nurse. "Simon, I would cry over how my brother stuck me with you, but there are not enough tears... start from the beginning, and work your way to the end, slowly and using your big-boy voice. Start by telling me if this is a guild matter, or a royal matter."

"Guild."

"Good. I'll go change into my suit then." She ran to peck the Queen on the cheek. "I'm sorry, Auntie... but our wonderful interim Prime Minister has decided he can't handle this without me."

"Auntie?" Simon asked, as if in a dream.

"Oh... Simon, might I present my aunt, Queen Marina of Jerusalem. Your Majesty, might I present Baronet Simon Darquis the Third, Prime Minister of the Divine Imperium."

Simon blinked his good eye, clearly balked. He fell to the ground. "I do beg your pardon, m'lady..."

“All I want is the chance to avenge my parents,” said Peter quietly after the servant had left. “Wouldn’t you want the same?

"Ah, yes... the sea. Lovely place, really..." The LCC's eyes misted over. "Days in Whiteport, gazing across at those distant cliffs..." he diplomatically refrained from adding 'wondering about artillery trajectories.' "But ich. Too many Guilders around the place now. Guilders, and even those bloody-desert rats have started to buy summer homes on the White Sea."

He sighed. "Still, we live in 'modern' times, so they tell me... you Shieldians had the right idea when you dealt with your Company."

“I quite agree,” said Redford. “The united command in Gallaga makes it much easier for us to enforce His Majesty’s will in that part of the world.” He straightened his tie slightly and smoothed his blazer. “And, as the Gallagans are being even testier than usual these days, it helps us no small amount.

“So, Lord Captain Commander Armenov,” he continued, “Few and far between are the subjects of the Divine Imperium whom I have known to enjoy a jaunt upon the waves.” He stopped there, clearly leaving it up to Alexandr to continue the train of thought.

((In a locked corridor, though that doesn't stop the servants... And 'disagreements'? Hello... who sent a smarmy fruitbox just because I had a woman elected as Prime Minister? You don't even give women the vote!))

(( :P We send smarmy fruit baskets to everyone - I’m sure that Walmington has quite the collection of them by now. It’s also not commonly known, but that’s how we polished off der Führer - sent him a fruit basket to commemorate the launching of Germany’s newest battleship and surprise! the muskmelon was laced with arsenic! Now, many people will tell you that the Walmy’s Special Operations Wing were the ones who actually assassinated Hitler, but they don’t know what they’re talking about ;).

Oh, and just to clarify, Shieldians aren’t Anglo-Saxons - we’re Shieldians. ;) I know you were just talking in character, but I didn’t want people to think that Iansisle used to be a colony of Britain or anything, like WoS, because we weren’t. Just an example of convergent evolution, as it were.

Actually, Shieldian culture isn’t strictly based on Anglo-Saxon, either. It is for the most part, but there’re heavy Celtic influences thrown in, plus a dash of French, plus whatever else I feel like at that particular moment.

Anyhow, rant over. I’ll have Bradsworth get the letter after EI has a chance to say something.))

“All I want is the chance to avenge my parents,” said Peter quietly after the servant had left. “Wouldn’t you want the same?

Daniel paused, and sighed. "I had my revenge, Mr. Longwell. And it still doesn't help me sleep at night."


“I quite agree,” said Redford. “The united command in Gallaga makes it much easier for us to enforce His Majesty’s will in that part of the world.” He straightened his tie slightly and smoothed his blazer. “And, as the Gallagans are being even testier than usual these days, it helps us no small amount.

“So, Lord Captain Commander Armenov,” he continued, “Few and far between are the subjects of the Divine Imperium whom I have known to enjoy a jaunt upon the waves.” He stopped there, clearly leaving it up to Alexandr to continue the train of thought.

The Derricker chuckled drily. "You've been dealing primarily with our wonderful friends, the Desert-Rats, haven't you... scared stiffless of any water they can't drink and of anything they can't understand. No, many of the glorious partners in this Imperium love the waves. We all have our purpose... the rats organise everything, the robes pay for everything, the Alties feed everything, and the tans... um... God loves the tans." he shrugged, not sure what the Sunset Islanders or Novarians were good for. "As for us from the Central Mountains, we stick quite well to our core competencies of smashing people and breaking things." He looked at the Captain's puzzled expression, and coughed. "The Roanians, the Aguans, the Altarans and the natives, I meant."

((Heh. If you thought that the people of the Imperium disliked foreigners... :mp5: The Imperium, with its diverse skills base and militaristic nature, could conquer the world! If it wasn't for the fact that every citizen *really*, when you get down to it, lives in one of 4 separate states -not counting the territories or the Sunsets-, all of whom have little friendship between themselves and only stick together out of common interest and history.

Like I said in my guidebook, referring to people bluntly as Roanians is pretty much like going to Scotland and saying, "Wow, you English guys are nice!" It might be technically true, but you had better hope that the people around you are inclined just to think of you as a worthless tourist.))



(( :P We send smarmy fruit baskets to everyone - I’m sure that Walmington has quite the collection of them by now. It’s also not commonly known, but that’s how we polished off der Führer - sent him a fruit basket to commemorate the launching of Germany’s newest battleship and surprise! the muskmelon was laced with arsenic! Now, many people will tell you that the Walmy’s Special Operations Wing were the ones who actually assassinated Hitler, but they don’t know what they’re talking about ;).

Oh, and just to clarify, Shieldians aren’t Anglo-Saxons - we’re Shieldians. ;) I know you were just talking in character, but I didn’t want people to think that Iansisle used to be a colony of Britain or anything, like WoS, because we weren’t. Just an example of convergent evolution, as it were.

Actually, Shieldian culture isn’t strictly based on Anglo-Saxon, either. It is for the most part, but there’re heavy Celtic influences thrown in, plus a dash of French, plus whatever else I feel like at that particular moment.

Anyhow, rant over. I’ll have Bradsworth get the letter after EI has a chance to say something.))

((Understood.

And I just realised I revealed my new secret weapon... lining up all the conservatives in the Imperium, putting them in front of tiki torches, giving them vodka, and then informing them that as of dawn tomorrow the Divine Imperium and the United Kingdom would be one giant nation.

And look at those enemy battalions burn...))

Peter shrugged. “Each is his own man. I know I shall not sleep soundly until I have rid the world of that rat.”

-------

Redford nodded. “Quite the cosmopolitan empire you’ve assembled. Reminds me of the Commonwealth at its height - Shieldians, Gadsani, Sentrians, Tharians, Dianatranians, Noropians, and Troobodians, all working together for the greater good. For instance, I myself am not a Shieldian, nor will I ever be - but I will as gladly as the next give my life for His Majesty the King.”

He laughed. “I suppose we’re having our differences now, but all siblings squabble. Soon enough, the Dominions will learn that there are peoples far fouler and harsher than Shieldians in this world, no?”

Rachel blushed, and looked like she was about to answer, when the door suddenly slammed open. Simon Darquis, Prime Minister of the Divine Imperium, rushed inside, sweat almost pouring from his brow. "Rachel! Emergency! Badness! Organising schedule! Kaput! Team you sent out to find entertainment, it's back! And... and... Mon dieu!"

The Princess sighed, and, with a downward look, passed the infant back to the nurse. "Simon, I would cry over how my brother stuck me with you, but there are not enough tears... start from the beginning, and work your way to the end, slowly and using your big-boy voice. Start by telling me if this is a guild matter, or a royal matter."

"Guild."

"Good. I'll go change into my suit then." She ran to peck the Queen on the cheek. "I'm sorry, Auntie... but our wonderful interim Prime Minister has decided he can't handle this without me."

"Auntie?" Simon asked, as if in a dream.

"Oh... Simon, might I present my aunt, Queen Marina of Jerusalem. Your Majesty, might I present Baronet Simon Darquis the Third, Prime Minister of the Divine Imperium."

Simon blinked his good eye, clearly balked. He fell to the ground. "I do beg your pardon, m'lady..."

Queen Mariah ran a disapproving eye over Simon who looked clearly out of place and rather embarrassed at the lack of manners.

Her voice normally soft and calm, sharpened considerably like the blade of steel"Your indiscretion is forgiven, but please show a little for consideration for your partner who craves some personal time with children. I do understand the urgency of your situation with the organisation of this wedding, but some elequence in your delivery of the subject matter might be need in the future.".

Her manner softened back to normal as she looked to Rachel "Please go on your designated duties and may the day be a success. God bless you". She turn back to Simon with focussed eyes like a Egyptian queen "As Rachel's partner, please be considerate of her emotions needs. Us women under the veil of control are really fragile and only crave a little understanding with great rewards. May you become learned. Please attend to your duties with God's blessing. If you're really hard up for assistance, we could assist if required."

Victoria secretly withdrew her hidden throwing knife back into her dress without Simon noticing pretending nothing had happened. One of guards outside said in Latin to his compatriot "I told him to knock first, looks like Latin is foreign language to him. I'll have to speak French from now on.".

As Simon and Rachel moved to leave the room, the Queen uttered in Latin "Hearts are not won by the blade or hard word, but the goodness of human kindness as God desires for all us".

OOC It's Mariah not Marina :)

Peter shrugged. “Each is his own man. I know I shall not sleep soundly until I have rid the world of that rat.”

"Quite so... quite so..." Daniel sighed. "Is there no other way? An indemnity, perhaps? Maybe a sternly written letter?" He wondered if Sarah would be safe in there. "I do hope you know I very strongly disapprove of this entire business. Why, if one of my officers was to act in the manner you're acting... I'd... I'd... I'd probably have him flogged!" He sighed. "Still, nothing for it... honour must be protected."

The prince raised his fingers to snap them. "Would you care for a drink?"

-------

Redford nodded. “Quite the cosmopolitan empire you’ve assembled. Reminds me of the Commonwealth at its height - Shieldians, Gadsani, Sentrians, Tharians, Dianatranians, Noropians, and Troobodians, all working together for the greater good. For instance, I myself am not a Shieldian, nor will I ever be - but I will as gladly as the next give my life for His Majesty the King.”

He laughed. “I suppose we’re having our differences now, but all siblings squabble. Soon enough, the Dominions will learn that there are peoples far fouler and harsher than Shieldians in this world, no?”[/QUOTE]

"Quite," Armenov replied, well-aware that the nations of the Imperium were counted as some of the worst of those 'peoples'. "Still, it is good to see some hope of respectable government returning to the other side of the... Western Marches, as you so gamely put term them. Who knows? Some day, you might even enfranchise women." 'And get a decent army, and learn basic wine-making techniques and have Madders shot and...' the litany of things the Shieldians need to do to become a civilised nation went on for quite some time in Armenov's head.

Kim nodded. "How very intricate," she remarked delicately, taking a sip of some beverage. "We are very simple jungle people, and easily confused."

"Oh my," Yuki said as the man spat across the room before launching into a diatribe against the Anglo-Saxons. She looked worriedly at the Iansisleans.

Kim's eyes widened and she looked at the man with horror before Yuki shook her arm, sloshing drink over the table. It was East Islandian custom not to make open threats or derogatory remarks (particularly about one's tribe, ethnicity, or clan), and to do so was almsot certain grounds for an explosive argument. If Kim remembered correctly, the Europeans were the same way...hadnt they dueled to death for remarks infringing on one's honor?

"I do hope they find a way to settle this," Kim said, nearly choking on her words. What a strange dinner, she thought. And they hadnt even had the food yet...

Queen Mariah ran a disapproving eye over Simon who looked clearly out of place and rather embarrassed at the lack of manners.

Her voice normally soft and calm, sharpened considerably like the blade of steel"Your indiscretion is forgiven, but please show a little for consideration for your partner who craves some personal time with children. I do understand the urgency of your situation with the organisation of this wedding, but some elequence in your delivery of the subject matter might be need in the future.".

Her manner softened back to normal as she looked to Rachel "Please go on your designated duties and may the day be a success. God bless you". She turn back to Simon with focussed eyes like a Egyptian queen "As Rachel's partner, please be considerate of her emotions needs. Us women under the veil of control are really fragile and only crave a little understanding with great rewards. May you become learned. Please attend to your duties with God's blessing. If you're really hard up for assistance, we could assist if required."

Victoria secretly withdrew her hidden throwing knife back into her dress without Simon noticing pretending nothing had happened. One of guards outside said in Latin to his compatriot "I told him to knock first, looks like Latin is foreign language to him. I'll have to speak French from now on.".

As Simon and Rachel moved to leave the room, the Queen uttered in Latin "Hearts are not won by the blade or hard word, but the goodness of human kindness as God desires for all us".

OOC It's Mariah not Marina :)

OOC: Oooh...

IC: Simon grumbled as he left the room, and ducked when Rachel tried to slap the back of his head. "At least I see it's a genetic pre-disposition women from your family have..." the Prime Minister mumbled to himself.

Rachel sighed. "Simon, in a nation with over 25 million university graduates, why did my brother choose you to lead the caretaker government?" They walked along the halls for a while, nodding to servants as they passed. "You know, she thinks that you're my lover..."

"Ha. Like I hate myself that much." Simon rubbed the back of his neck. "Your brother told me straight out he wants me to marry you so he can appoint me Grand Duke of Agua. I think he intends to name his first son Prince of Agua." The former detective grumbled again.

Rachel chuckled a bit. "He does rather forecast those moves... still, we love him anyway." The princess slid open a door. "Please, do come in." She entered her bedroom

'Said the spider to the fly...' Simon thought, following close behind. He looked around the room. "Rachel?" He asked, not seeing her anywhere. "Why is this place so empty?"

The only pieces of furniture in the room were a large mirror, a modesty-curtain, a bed and one or two chests of drawers. Only a few pieces of jewellery lay on top of the chests. Not at all how he'd assumed the Princess's chambers would look like.

"Well," a voice came from behind the curtain, "I am a Guild executive officer with my own manors in Novaya Archangelsk and WhitePort. I'm also Countess of Fyodro...damn this corset," there was the sound of something being ripped apart, "Fyodrograd and have some nice estates the...why on Earth do I need this accursed... I don't even know what it is!" Something soft dropped to the floor, causing Simon to close his eye and mumble some sort of prayer. "Damn it!" Rachel coughed. "Sorry. As I was saying, I'm rarely at the palace so why should I keep too much... hrm. Simon, could you please pass me my handbag? It's on the bed."

The Prime Minister blinked at that, but shrugged, grabbed the bag, and thrust it around the curtain, looking the other direction. "Ma'am..."

"Oh, please... go back to calling me Rachel. It suits you much better than the whole 'subservient' act..." Something was snapped, protesting the whole way. There was another sound of something silky being moved, again causing Simon to put his hand on the wall. A couple of buttons were snapped, something was pulled up, and Rachel stepped back around the curtain, in her business clothes. "Much better..."

Simon's eye widened. "Ma'..."

She raised a finger, warningly.

"Rachel, then. Has anyone ever told you that women of a particular body-type shouldn't wear fitted business suits and skirts?" Simon asked, keeping his glance well away from her. Towards the window, for instance. "It can get very distracting..."

Rachel decided he wasn't aware of the double-meaning behind his words, and thus meant it as some sort of compliment. She shrugged in response. "Good. Executives are easier to negotiate with if you keep them distracted with something... else."

'Good lord...' "It's nice to see the killer-instinct in the Black family get turned towards profit-making instead of terrorising innocent townspeople..." Simon muttered, hoping she wouldn't hear.

Rachel walked over to the mirror and picked up a hair-tie, pulling her hair up and putting it into a ponytail. "Simon, I'm a woman. We've been dealing with you lot for well over 4 million years." Finally, she pinned her Guild-Exec badge onto her suit's left lapel. "Though I've always thought I'd make a good Prime Minister..." the Princess said, looking thoughtful.

'Note to self. Change constitution so no members of royal family may run for office. Ever. Ever. Ever.'

Wait is Rachel fat? Or not fat?

Is she hot?

"Quite so... quite so..." Daniel sighed. "Is there no other way? An indemnity, perhaps? Maybe a sternly written letter?" He wondered if Sarah would be safe in there. "I do hope you know I very strongly disapprove of this entire business. Why, if one of my officers was to act in the manner you're acting... I'd... I'd... I'd probably have him flogged!" He sighed. "Still, nothing for it... honour must be protected."

The prince raised his fingers to snap them. "Would you care for a drink?"

“Write a letter?” asked Peter. “No, no - that won’t do at all!” He seemed genuinely shocked at the suggestion; things on the Shield had been handled in one way since time immemorial and, like so many traditions, they tended to linger far past their time.

“I do apologize for this, Your Majesty,” said Peter. “I know what an interruption it must be to your evening. I intended to go straight from the wedding to Dunerbridge...well, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

“Oh, and nothing to drink, please. I...want to keep my head clear.”

"Quite," Armenov replied, well-aware that the nations of the Imperium were counted as some of the worst of those 'peoples'. "Still, it is good to see some hope of respectable government returning to the other side of the... Western Marches, as you so gamely put term them. Who knows? Some day, you might even enfranchise women." 'And get a decent army, and learn basic wine-making techniques and have Madders shot and...' the litany of things the Shieldians need to do to become a civilised nation went on for quite some time in Armenov's head.

"Perhaps one of these days," agreed Redford. "They've been kicking that idea around like a football in the Assembly for several weeks now.

"I'm not sure if I agree or not," he continued. "Easy enough in concept, but I fear difficult after implementation. After all, if we're doubling the voting potential of married men, there'll be a dozen mutinies all across Gallaga. That's just the sort of propaganda the Congress needs."

Kim nodded. "How very intricate," she remarked delicately, taking a sip of some beverage. "We are very simple jungle people, and easily confused."

“Hardly, from what I’ve heard,” Bradsworth had time to say before the viceroy became a flame-thrower.

"Oh my," Yuki said as the man spat across the room before launching into a diatribe against the Anglo-Saxons. She looked worriedly at the Iansisleans.

Kim's eyes widened and she looked at the man with horror before Yuki shook her arm, sloshing drink over the table. It was East Islandian custom not to make open threats or derogatory remarks (particularly about one's tribe, ethnicity, or clan), and to do so was almsot certain grounds for an explosive argument. If Kim remembered correctly, the Europeans were the same way...hadnt they dueled to death for remarks infringing on one's honor?

"I do hope they find a way to settle this," Kim said, nearly choking on her words. What a strange dinner, she thought. And they hadnt even had the food yet...

Bradsworth met Yuki’s eyes and smiled. “Don’t worry, m’dear,” he said, leaning forward, “We Shieldians grew a tougher skin than that a long time ago. Methinks that the good viceroy has just had too much to drink.”

Clearly, however, Bradsworth’s opinion was in the minority. The ridiculously clothed person sitting with him was literally shaking with anger. Without breaking eye contact with Yuki, Bradsworth put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“There are certain things in this world getting truly angry about,” he continued, “and I hardly feel that an old gentleman’s colorful intonations are among them.”

Just then, a servant appeared with a note for Bradsworth.

“Your pardon, please,” he begged of the East Islandians while he read it. For one second, his face contorted into a frown, but it was soon back to normal. Reluctantly, he gained his feet and bowed to the East Islandians.

“Madame Premier, I much regret it, but I seem to be needed elsewhere - an incident of some sort. Rest assured, I shall hasten back as soon permitted. In the meantime, allow me to introduce my assistant, Mr Gifford.” He waved to the potbellied gentleman sitting to East Islandians, who smiled faintly.

Wait is Rachel fat? Or not fat?

Is she hot?

((Almost absurdly so. :cool: :p ))

“Write a letter?” asked Peter. “No, no - that won’t do at all!” He seemed genuinely shocked at the suggestion; things on the Shield had been handled in one way since time immemorial and, like so many traditions, they tended to linger far past their time.

“I do apologize for this, Your Majesty,” said Peter. “I know what an interruption it must be to your evening. I intended to go straight from the wedding to Dunerbridge...well, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

“Oh, and nothing to drink, please. I...want to keep my head clear.”

"Of course..." Daniel said, calmly. That lasted for a few seconds. Then he started to panic. "Oh my god! What am I going to tell Sarah? What will she say? WHAT WILL SHE DO! Oh, Michael preserve us..." he started to wring his hands, nervously.

The wooden door swung open, and Sarah stepped out. "My parents decided they wanted to go to their room... is everything okay out here?" She asked.

Thankfully, at that exact moment Bradsworth arrived... saving Daniel from having to make up some sort of lie and end up having his dainty little ego crushed like an egg.



"Perhaps one of these days," agreed Redford. "They've been kicking that idea around like a football in the Assembly for several weeks now.

"I'm not sure if I agree or not," he continued. "Easy enough in concept, but I fear difficult after implementation. After all, if we're doubling the voting potential of married men, there'll be a dozen mutinies all across Gallaga. That's just the sort of propaganda the Congress needs."

"Doubling the voting potential of married men?" Armenov asked, stunned. "Wow... if my wife heard that, she'd be laughing out loud..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Of course..." Daniel said, calmly. That lasted for a few seconds. Then he started to panic. "Oh my god! What am I going to tell Sarah? What will she say? WHAT WILL SHE DO! Oh, Michael preserve us..." he started to wring his hands, nervously.

The wooden door swung open, and Sarah stepped out. "My parents decided they wanted to go to their room... is everything okay out here?" She asked.

Thankfully, at that exact moment Bradsworth arrived... saving Daniel from having to make up some sort of lie and end up having his dainty little ego crushed like an egg.

Bradsworth looked around from Daniel to Sarah to Peter.

"I received this note," he said, trying to comprehend the seeming absurdity of the situation. "What, precisely, is it that's the matter?"

"Doubling the voting potential of married men?" Armenov asked, stunned. "Wow... if my wife heard that, she'd be laughing out loud..." He rubbed the back of his neck.

((hehe...I just had to phrase it that way to annoy my best gal. Believe me when I say none of these are my true opinions on the subject. ;)))

"A woman of good humor?" asked Redford, either from ignorance or deliberate provocation.

Bradsworth looked around from Daniel to Sarah to Peter.

"I received this note," he said, trying to comprehend the seeming absurdity of the situation. "What, precisely, is it that's the matter?"

"Ah, Premier. Bradsworth..." Daniel said, suddenly. "A word with you in the parlour, please..." he politely, yet firmly, led the Shieldian Premier into the lounge, and firmly locked the door behind him. "Premier, our friend Peter has charged my future father-in-law with being directly complicit in the deaths of his parents and sister. He's demanded I permit a duel between the two. I was hoping that you might be able to think of something..."



((hehe...I just had to phrase it that way to annoy my best gal. Believe me when I say none of these are my true opinions on the subject. ;)))

"A woman of good humor?" asked Redford, either from ignorance or deliberate provocation.

((Ouch.))

Armenov rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. "You could say that... a real firebird, that one..."

"I don't understand that Simon character, he's the Prime Minister of Roania but his manners don't exist. Bad french, no understanding of Latin, course manners. Strange choice for Prime Minister ... you rarely use that Pharonic voice on anyone" the Regent complained. Victoria interjected "He's not from a royal or bureaucratic background, rather may we say a Commoner and not from a noble profession either" in a disapproving voice.

Queen Mariah trying to comb out knots in her hair said "He nearly got nailed to the wall opposite and you simply don't slam the door open like that. Rachel and Simon seem distant and there's no real X-factor as they say in the dancing world ... owww ... still, it's hard to say if they're a couple for convenience or it's that love-hate thing ... oww ... I hate my hair sometimes."

The Regent sighed "It's not like he is so conceited but I fear his manner may offend some." The Queen still playing with her hair replied "If I know Rachel, he should be learning plenty from her and ... oww ... she's also a little rough around the edges sometimes. Nevertheless, she's very intelligent and you can't destroy her spirit. I guess it's that French woman thing. Speaking of French things, I really got soften this hair. That flight messed it all up" and disappeared into the bathroom.

Victoria commented "I think Simon won't repeat that mistake again around our dear Queen. She doesn't need to hit people, but that tongue really does destroy fragile egos"

(conducted in Arabic)

In some Islamic mosque in Roania ...

Cleric Mohammed Al Fahjir was visiting. He knocked on the door and a face appeared. "Fahjir! What you doing here and who's the Christian?" the face grinned. Fahjir reassured him "Bashir, He's my assigned guard from Jeruselem. I'm not allowed to wander about Roania unescorted by orders of the Queen. Better safe than sorry."

Bashir opened the door and let the two in, and asked "Why the visit? Planning to convert the heathens of Roania?". Fahjir pulled out a letter in Arabic and said "One of your worshippers here says the mosque is run-down and unsafe for worship. So I dropped to see for myself."

Bashir turned red as part of the building looked worse for wear and in need of repair. "Well, we're a little broke and tilers here charge a fortune to fix ornate tiling. If we ask for money, we'll just look foolish. Oh yes, there's a few structural problems. One more Earthquake, and the dome will collapse".

"I see ..." Fahjir nodded as dust fell from part of the building. Bashir was still red. Fahjir pulled out a cheque book (in Arabic) and started scralling something. "Here you go, a cheque for the equivalent of 500 000 shekels and I want the whole thing done properly" he handed over a cheque to Bashir who kneeled in humility "Thank you, we will do Allah's grace and restore this place for the people."

"No need to be so ashamed. Allah wills men do good for others. Now let us pray" Fahjir smiled.

Bradsworth followed Daniel curiously. He shot one last glance at Peter before being led into a parlour, but the Weshieldian avoided eye contact.

"Premier, our friend Peter has charged my future father-in-law with being directly complicit in the deaths of his parents and sister. He's demanded I permit a duel between the two. I was hoping that you might be able to think of something..." said Daniel after locking the door.

Now that was a loaded statement if Bradsworth had ever heard one! He decided to break it down a little.

“First of all,” he said after a short period of consideration, “Mr Longwell’s accusations are not baseless. We know that there was no small bit of backstabbing going on among the gentry of Weshield as various families jockeyed for new position within the Republic. I doubt very much that the Longwells were completely innocent; more likely, they didn’t have time to stab the Underhawks in the back before the police knocked on their door.

“About the duel: we’ve been trying to stamp out the trappings of the Grand Empire, though never with complete success. There’s been a bill on the Assembly floor for a month now about outlawing dueling, but without success. I understand completely if you believe that’s not an acceptable option: I abhor the damn things myself.

“Now, then, where does that leave us? The only thing I can suggest is removing one or both of them - Longwell or Underhawk - from the immediate vicinity so that the wedding can take place.” Bradsworth actually had another suggestion, but he wanted to see Daniel’s reaction first.

------

Armenov rubbed the back of his neck ruefully. "You could say that... a real firebird, that one..."

Redford let out a bark of laughter. “Then you have my sympathy, friend,” he said with a quirky little half-smile.

“Your pardon, please,” he begged of the East Islandians while he read it. For one second, his face contorted into a frown, but it was soon back to normal. Reluctantly, he gained his feet and bowed to the East Islandians.

“Madame Premier, I much regret it, but I seem to be needed elsewhere - an incident of some sort. Rest assured, I shall hasten back as soon permitted. In the meantime, allow me to introduce my assistant, Mr Gifford.” He waved to the potbellied gentleman sitting to East Islandians, who smiled faintly.

OOC
i take it taht roania means rachel is hot and not fat. OK.

*******
Yuki bade Bradsworth farewell, and watched as Kim began to chat with Gifford. Her tone was back to normal, though it was a while before her facial color turned back to a its normal bronze.

Yuki cocked her head in interest as she thought of the woman, Rachel. From what she had heard, Rachel was a princess of some sort, or some high ranking Guild member, and she was certainly quite pretty. Her husband, however, seemed somewhat detached...but it would not do to gossip about their marital relations, would it?

Yuki grinned mischieviously. What fun would the wedding be if there were to be no spicy bits of gossip and rumor?

"I cant help but notice that Rachel and her husband seem a bit distant," Yuki said, cutting into Kim and Gifford's conversation, which was previously about fairly mundane matters. "I wonder if they truly... are affectionate....."

Kim's eyes widened, and she gasped at Yuki's comment. Though fairly open, Islandian society really did not talk about sexual relations between married couples (oddly enough, it was more acceptable to talk about sexual relations between unattached people), so Kim was somewhat shocked.

In Iansisle, one did not talk about sexual relations at all! Gifford blushed deeply at the comment and readjusted his glasses nervously. However, for all that his sense of propriety was offended by those comments, he was still curious on one point.

"Begging your pardon, Premier," he said in a somewhat strangled tone, "but I was not aware that Her Highness had...er...taken a husband."

Bradsworth followed Daniel curiously. He shot one last glance at Peter before being led into a parlour, but the Weshieldian avoided eye contact.

"Premier, our friend Peter has charged my future father-in-law with being directly complicit in the deaths of his parents and sister. He's demanded I permit a duel between the two. I was hoping that you might be able to think of something..." said Daniel after locking the door.

Now that was a loaded statement if Bradsworth had ever heard one! He decided to break it down a little.

“First of all,” he said after a short period of consideration, “Mr Longwell’s accusations are not baseless. We know that there was no small bit of backstabbing going on among the gentry of Weshield as various families jockeyed for new position within the Republic. I doubt very much that the Longwells were completely innocent; more likely, they didn’t have time to stab the Underhawks in the back before the police knocked on their door.

“About the duel: we’ve been trying to stamp out the trappings of the Grand Empire, though never with complete success. There’s been a bill on the Assembly floor for a month now about outlawing dueling, but without success. I understand completely if you believe that’s not an acceptable option: I abhor the damn things myself.

“Now, then, where does that leave us? The only thing I can suggest is removing one or both of them - Longwell or Underhawk - from the immediate vicinity so that the wedding can take place.” Bradsworth actually had another suggestion, but he wanted to see Daniel’s reaction first.

"What? Sarah would kill me!" The Tsar spluttered, his face red. "I'd like to be the first in my dynasty to not get murdered." He sighed. "I suppose, if there's no other option, we could have Peter recalled to Gallaga, or the Underhawks arrested, or something..." He sighed. "You know, I had a constitution written just so as to prevent myself from having to take part in such matters... where is my first minister, anyway. If I find he's hiding from my sister in the closet again..."

------



Redford let out a bark of laughter. “Then you have my sympathy, friend,” he said with a quirky little half-smile.

"Come now, Captain," Armenov replied. "What of you? Surely you are not of the opinion that the only maid a Naval Officer needs is the wooden planks of his ship! We have heard rumours of your prowess. Blood such as yours should not be lost to your kingdom."

"I don't understand that Simon character, he's the Prime Minister of Roania but his manners don't exist. Bad french, no understanding of Latin, course manners. Strange choice for Prime Minister ... you rarely use that Pharonic voice on anyone" the Regent complained. Victoria interjected "He's not from a royal or bureaucratic background, rather may we say a Commoner and not from a noble profession either" in a disapproving voice.

Queen Mariah trying to comb out knots in her hair said "He nearly got nailed to the wall opposite and you simply don't slam the door open like that. Rachel and Simon seem distant and there's no real X-factor as they say in the dancing world ... owww ... still, it's hard to say if they're a couple for convenience or it's that love-hate thing ... oww ... I hate my hair sometimes."

The Regent sighed "It's not like he is so conceited but I fear his manner may offend some." The Queen still playing with her hair replied "If I know Rachel, he should be learning plenty from her and ... oww ... she's also a little rough around the edges sometimes. Nevertheless, she's very intelligent and you can't destroy her spirit. I guess it's that French woman thing. Speaking of French things, I really got soften this hair. That flight messed it all up" and disappeared into the bathroom.

Victoria commented "I think Simon won't repeat that mistake again around our dear Queen. She doesn't need to hit people, but that tongue really does destroy fragile egos"

((No, he isn't from a royal background... but he is the third son of the second aristocrat of the realm, a Baronet, and Daniel's best friend. If he actually is appointed to the Grand Duchy of Agua, he'll be one of the most powerful men on Earth. And if Daniel prevails upon him and Rachel to finally marry, he'll be married to one of the richest (nongovernmental) women on the Earth.))

Rachel stretched happily, causing Simon to flush and look away. "I agree, Simon. We can not have Mr. Presley performing at the reception. I knew that when I hired him." She put her feet up on a lounge-chair and smiled. They were in the Green Office, the Prime Minister's main office in the palace.

Simon blinked, putting up his own feet. "Then why on Earth did you hire him?" He asked, trying to look anywhere but Rachel's tightly covered chest. He supposed it wasn't that bad, but it still distracted him.

The Princess smiled triumphantly. "For the People's Festival, of course. Oh, and to play at our real dinner tonight after the 'dinner'. Which should be starting in a few minutes..." She raised a carefully shaped eyebrow, watching him.

"Oh. Fair enou... our dinner?" Simon said, in a strangled voice. "What do you mean, our dinner? Wait. What makes you think I'd even w..."

Rachel looked hurt. "Simon, I thought you'd be pleased. We're not going to get a bite to eat at the formal celebrations tonight, so I made reservations for the pair of us to have a little post-organisational meal together at a nice little Chinese restaurant in town...." her lip wobbled, rather distressingly.

Simon raised one of his own eyebrows. "Don't." He warned. "Don't you dare." He sighed. "I suppose, if that's how you arranged it... I mean, I have no real problems with Chinese..." he shrugged, then. "I mean, I'd hate to disappoint you..."

Rachel smiled, thinly. "You don't like Chinese? Or do you object more to the company?" She asked, idly.

Simon smiled. "I have no objections to either. Especially not to the company." He reached out and patted her hand. "Really. I'm exhausted. Chinese sounds nice. Company sounds nice."

Rachel took his hand and shook it. "Great. It's a date. I'..." she turned pink, a colour matched rapidly by Simon. It was a perfect picture as two of the most important people in the entire Divine Imperium or its Empire stared at one another in embarassment and shock.

Sadly, the tableau was broken up when a servant coughed and said, "Prime Minister, His Divine Imperial Highness the Tsaraevich requests your attendance at the Slightly Pinkish Drawing Room."

OOC

Thanks for that, figures as much :)
At least he's not GW Bush ... he speakith English

IC

Later that night ...

"So, any good place for dinner around Roania. Victoria?" the Queen looked rather hungry. Victoria was looking at a list "What food? French? Arabic? German? Greek? Jewish? Chinese? How about we just order from the kitchen here. I'm sure they wouldn't mess up as we are rather important".

"Good point. How about something simple for today and make sure to order some French Champagne." Mariah yawned. Victoria was already on the phone as if she had read the Queen's mind. "Room service? This is Personal Assistant of Queen Mariah of Jerusalem. Her highness is eating in tonight ... yes, how long. 35 minutes, good. God bless you."

Victoria dismissed the servants and the Nanny "You may retire to your rooms now. It's been a long day and you need the rest." They bowed and left the room. The Queen was putting Arthur to sleep. She took out a camera and snapped a photo. "I think Rachel needs this photo" she commented.

"What? Sarah would kill me!" The Tsar spluttered, his face red. "I'd like to be the first in my dynasty to not get murdered." He sighed. "I suppose, if there's no other option, we could have Peter recalled to Gallaga, or the Underhawks arrested, or something..." He sighed. "You know, I had a constitution written just so as to prevent myself from having to take part in such matters... where is my first minister, anyway. If I find he's hiding from my sister in the closet again..."

"I was thinking that it might be possible to solve this situation a minimum of fuss from all parties. After the party is over, you extradite the Underhawks back to the Shield. We examine the evidence, determine if Longwell's claims are true or not, and punish them accordingly.

"In the meantime, we inform Longwell that he will have justice if - and only if! - he can control himself for the remainder of the wedding. That way, Sir Richard can deliver Sarah, Longwell can stay for the service, we make sure that justice is done, and we can get out of this entire situation without a diplomatic incident."

"Come now, Captain," Armenov replied. "What of you? Surely you are not of the opinion that the only maid a Naval Officer needs is the wooden planks of his ship! We have heard rumours of your prowess. Blood such as yours should not be lost to your kingdom."

"I have never held that opinion," Redford said, again with a half-smile. "However - how should I put this? - there's no missus at home. The personal life of a naval officer is a hard one; tying it up to one port makes it more so."

Amidst the excitement, the Secretary of State of Tiburon, Kiro Starfighter (late, as usual), hurriedly arrived in the Roanian Palace.

"Dammit! Why do I have to do this? Nova's the one with the Roanian. He should be going. But nooo..."

Entering the hall and noticing a large contingent of Roanians and Shielders (including many guards), he abruptly stopped muttering and walked up to who appeared to be the leader.

"Excuse me. I'm the Tiburonese delegation... would you happen to know where the couple to be married is? I was hoping to congratulate them..."

OOC: Yes, he was 16 several months ago, when you were playing a different generation. And yes, he's still 16. I don't know why or how... don't ask me. Yet.

OOC2: It'll be difficult for me to play along with the political alliances between the nations, since Tiburon is technically the descendant of the NNHA (an alliance between every free nation in existence today, as well as a few new ones; it itself being a descendant of NATO). For all intents, we will consider Roania to be the Holy Roman Empire. The Shield will be considered as ruling over the Falkland Islands. Sorry. ^_^;

OOC

Thanks for that, figures as much :)
At least he's not GW Bush ... he speakith English

IC

Later that night ...

"So, any good place for dinner around Roania. Victoria?" the Queen looked rather hungry. Victoria was looking at a list "What food? French? Arabic? German? Greek? Jewish? Chinese? How about we just order from the kitchen here. I'm sure they wouldn't mess up as we are rather important".

"Good point. How about something simple for today and make sure to order some French Champagne." Mariah yawned. Victoria was already on the phone as if she had read the Queen's mind. "Room service? This is Personal Assistant of Queen Mariah of Jerusalem. Her highness is eating in tonight ... yes, how long. 35 minutes, good. God bless you."

Victoria dismissed the servants and the Nanny "You may retire to your rooms now. It's been a long day and you need the rest." They bowed and left the room. The Queen was putting Arthur to sleep. She took out a camera and snapped a photo. "I think Rachel needs this photo" she commented.

A servant politely knocked on the door. "My lady, the formal celebration is about to commence..." he winced when his superior slapped the back of his head. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You klutz! They flew across Asia! The last thing they need is to sit at the high table and make polite conversation."

"I was thinking that it might be possible to solve this situation a minimum of fuss from all parties. After the party is over, you extradite the Underhawks back to the Shield. We examine the evidence, determine if Longwell's claims are true or not, and punish them accordingly.

"In the meantime, we inform Longwell that he will have justice if - and only if! - he can control himself for the remainder of the wedding. That way, Sir Richard can deliver Sarah, Longwell can stay for the service, we make sure that justice is done, and we can get out of this entire situation without a diplomatic incident."

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Well, fine. Except the constitution comes into effect at midnight tonight. It'll be out of my hair then." He sighed, almost in relief. "Simon's the guy you'll want to speak to then." The future Tsar gave an encouraging smile. "Still, nice idea! Let's do it."

Simon came from a hidden door in the room's corner. "Let's do what, m'lord? About what?"

"Simon! Just the man I wanted to see." Daniel rapidly explained everything that had happened, and Bradworth's plan.

The Prime Minister said a very unfortunate word in Aguan. "Thank you, Daniel. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome," Daniel said, coldly. "I don't need to tell you how important this is, Simon. I'm asking you to do this because this is a governmental matter, and because I trust you to be able to."

Simon sighed. "You have a higher opinion of me than your sister."

"Rachel? Au contraire... she's told me that you're an organisational genius." The Tsar went to the main door, and clenched his fist over his heart. "I'll tell Peter what we plan, and... and... tell Sarah something. You two sort this out..."



"I have never held that opinion," Redford said, again with a half-smile. "However - how should I put this? - there's no missus at home. The personal life of a naval officer is a hard one; tying it up to one port makes it more so."

"Tsk," Armenov replied. "A wife makes you appreciate your career all the more. Gets you away from her..." he rubbed the back of his head shamefully. "And, speaking as an Imperial, if you asked any married man what he was worried about, him getting two extra votes or his wife getting an extra vote, they'll probably tell you the second."

A short little man in a big kaftan stood on a chair and clanged a bell. "Ladies and Gentlemen! If you will kindly go through the doors before you, you will enter the ballroom. Dinner will be a buffet and dancing will begin immediately."

Amidst the excitement, the Secretary of State of Tiburon, Kiro Starfighter (late, as usual), hurriedly arrived in the Roanian Palace.

"Dammit! Why do I have to do this? Nova's the one with the Roanian. He should be going. But nooo..."

Entering the hall and noticing a large contingent of Roanians and Shielders (including many guards), he abruptly stopped muttering and walked up to who appeared to be the leader.

"Excuse me. I'm the Tiburonese delegation... would you happen to know where the couple to be married is? I was hoping to congratulate them..."

OOC: Yes, he was 16 several months ago, when you were playing a different generation. And yes, he's still 16. I don't know why or how... don't ask me. Yet.

OOC2: It'll be difficult for me to play along with the political alliances between the nations, since Tiburon is technically the descendant of the NNHA (an alliance between every free nation in existence today, as well as a few new ones; it itself being a descendant of NATO). For all intents, we will consider Roania to be the Holy Roman Empire. The Shield will be considered as ruling over the Falkland Islands. Sorry. ^_^;

OOC: He hasn't aged in well over 100 years then... nah. I hereby declare the timeline EDITED!!! to make up for your long absence. Gwee! What a rush!

IC: Everyone seemed to busy to notice the young man, what with rushing to the ballroom and all. Well, that's not entirely true. A tall man in uniform idly wandered over to his side. "Name? Age? Serial Number?" He asked, flipping open a large booklet.

Down the hallway, the Reich Ambassador trod heavily on the toes of the British ambassador as they both tried to enter the room at the same time. "Schveinhund!"

"I say..." the Ambassador countered with a swing of his umbrella, and the conflict seemed set to get even worse when the two French Ambassadors shoved them both through the door.

A servant politely knocked on the door. "My lady, the formal celebration is about to commence..." he winced when his superior slapped the back of his head. "Ow! What was that for?"

"You klutz! They flew across Asia! The last thing they need is to sit at the high table and make polite conversation."

Victoria opened the door "Gentlemen, what were you about to say? A formal celebration? I am afraid her majesty is no state for extended formal engagements into the night after ordering dinner. We apologise if she cannot attend any celebrations at the moment as God did not design us humans for the perils of flight. We send our apologies to the Tzar and Sarah for not being able to attend this event." seeing the embarrassed servant and his superior, while the two guards had a private laugh.

In Iansisle, one did not talk about sexual relations at all! Gifford blushed deeply at the comment and readjusted his glasses nervously. However, for all that his sense of propriety was offended by those comments, he was still curious on one point.

"Begging your pardon, Premier," he said in a somewhat strangled tone, "but I was not aware that Her Highness had...er...taken a husband."


Kim shook her head. "Madame Nau is simply digressing again," she said quickly, when queried by Gifford. "We do not really know who is married to who, and aside from the marriage that is going to happen today joining Sarah and the future Tsar, we really have little knowledge of what is happening."

Kim turned to Yuki and hissed at her quickly in Islandian, telling her to keep herself under control and not speculate. The reputation of Islandia was bad enough now that only the eastern parts remained under their control, Kim said to Yuki, and they didnt need anything else to further tarnish their image.

Kim swore in Islandian as her shawl slipped and her small tattoo peeked out as her back was briefly exposed. The tattoo consisted of a pair of wings with a small flame in the center, along with the words "Air Descent" written above the wings, in Islandian.

Though Kim had thought of removing her tattoo for a while, she had decided against it; for one, it would constitute a breach of faith with her comrades still in the 1st Air Descent Regiment back home, and more than one leader (and female) had the name and logo of hteir unit tattooed onto their body somewhere. Former Premier Chai Jun had the logo of her unit, Forty First Medevac Squadron, tattooed on her back also, and so had former Vice Premier Park Hyemin.

Yuki rolled her eyes. She was secretly jealous of Kim's tattoo, which was, among many Islandians, a source of immense pride. She herself had only gotten a coiled dragon on her lower back and buttocks area, but it was not really as prestigious as Kim's tattoo.

Yuki wondered if Gifford would be surprised by the abundance of Islandian tattoos. After all, few among the Europeans present seemed to sport body art....

Victoria opened the door "Gentlemen, what were you about to say? A formal celebration? I am afraid her majesty is no state for extended formal engagements into the night after ordering dinner. We apologise if she cannot attend any celebrations at the moment as God did not design us humans for the perils of flight. We send our apologies to the Tzar and Sarah for not being able to attend this event." seeing the embarrassed servant and his superior, while the two guards had a private laugh.

"But of course, madame..." the butler dragged his underling away. "You're going to be spending the next three weeks de-moulding the old dungeons."

"But of course, madame..." the butler dragged his underling away. "You're going to be spending the next three weeks de-moulding the old dungeons."

Victoria looked sorry for the servant as she sighed "I'm glad I don't work around here or it is they employ idiots for fun. I'll be just be checking the schedule for tomorrow while I'm away." as she left the room and headed off.

The Shield will be considered as ruling over the Falkland Islands. Sorry. ^_^;

((uh...well, even considering that the Shield is not an island nor a chain thereof, is not in the southern hemisphere, and is not anywhere near the Atlantic Ocean or Argentina, I'm sure you could have picked a worse spot. Ah, well. Whatever floats your boat.))

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Well, fine. Except the constitution comes into effect at midnight tonight. It'll be out of my hair then." He sighed, almost in relief. "Simon's the guy you'll want to speak to then." The future Tsar gave an encouraging smile. "Still, nice idea! Let's do it."

Simon came from a hidden door in the room's corner. "Let's do what, m'lord? About what?"

"Simon! Just the man I wanted to see." Daniel rapidly explained everything that had happened, and Bradworth's plan.

The Prime Minister said a very unfortunate word in Aguan. "Thank you, Daniel. Thank you very much."

"You're welcome," Daniel said, coldly. "I don't need to tell you how important this is, Simon. I'm asking you to do this because this is a governmental matter, and because I trust you to be able to."

Simon sighed. "You have a higher opinion of me than your sister."

"Rachel? Au contraire... she's told me that you're an organisational genius." The Tsar went to the main door, and clenched his fist over his heart. "I'll tell Peter what we plan, and... and... tell Sarah something. You two sort this out..."

Bradsworth, the one-handed man, turned to Simon, the one-eyed man, and smiled. “Well. Hardly a tall order, now was it?”

-----

Peter looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

-----

"And, speaking as an Imperial, if you asked any married man what he was worried about, him getting two extra votes or his wife getting an extra vote, they'll probably tell you the second."

“Somehow,” Redford said, “the men of the Shield knew that would be the case.” He decided to leave the meaning ambiguous.

A short little man in a big kaftan stood on a chair and clanged a bell. "Ladies and Gentlemen! If you will kindly go through the doors before you, you will enter the ballroom. Dinner will be a buffet and dancing will begin immediately."

“Well!” said Redford, stretching. “I’ve most enjoyed our little tête-à-tête, Lord Captain Commander...”

He trailed off, hoping that Alexandr would take the clue and his leave.

-------

Kim shook her head. "Madame Nau is simply digressing again," she said quickly, when queried by Gifford. "We do not really know who is married to who, and aside from the marriage that is going to happen today joining Sarah and the future Tsar, we really have little knowledge of what is happening."

“Quite all right, quite all right!” insisted Gifford, though he was mopping his suddenly sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. “Unfortunately, Iansisle’s foreign office sees and knows less than I would gather yours does. I hardly came here with a briefing on how to tell the Tsar from the wedding cake!”

He laughed nervously at his own weak joke. Gifford either didn’t notice or declined to comment on the whispering and interactions among the Islandians.

A short little man in a big kaftan stood on a chair and clanged a bell. "Ladies and Gentlemen! If you will kindly go through the doors before you, you will enter the ballroom. Dinner will be a buffet and dancing will begin immediately."

“That would be our cue, I imagine,” said Gifford with a note of relief. “I do hope that Mr Bradsworth returns soon!”

OOC: He hasn't aged in well over 100 years then... nah. I hereby declare the timeline EDITED!!! to make up for your long absence. Gwee! What a rush!

IC: Everyone seemed to busy to notice the young man, what with rushing to the ballroom and all. Well, that's not entirely true. A tall man in uniform idly wandered over to his side. "Name? Age? Serial Number?" He asked, flipping open a large booklet.

OOC: Yay! Of course, technically he hasn't existed yet, and won't for a little over a thousand years... but since when have the laws of physics and biology ever prevented the United Republics from their course of action?

IC: Uh... serial number? My name is Kiro Starfighter from the United Republics of Tiburon, but I really don't think I have a... serial number...

Down the hallway, the Reich Ambassador trod heavily on the toes of the British ambassador as they both tried to enter the room at the same time. "Schveinhund!"

"I say..." the Ambassador countered with a swing of his umbrella, and the conflict seemed set to get even worse when the two French Ambassadors shoved them both through the door.

Amazed at the scene of watching high diplomats run over each other, Kiro ended his registration and started staring.

And kept staring.

Some great entertainment they've got here...

((uh...well, even considering that the Shield is not an island nor a chain thereof, is not in the southern hemisphere, and is not anywhere near the Atlantic Ocean or Argentina, I'm sure you could have picked a worse spot. Ah, well. Whatever floats your boat.))

I was under the assumption that Iansisle was supposed to be Britain (they have the whole United Kingdom thing going on)... where is it?

Bradsworth, the one-handed man, turned to Simon, the one-eyed man, and smiled. “Well. Hardly a tall order, now was it?”

Simon made a sound very much like, "Ohmydeargod...' but he wouldn't repeat it when pressed. "Okay. I need to find a way to extradite Sir Richard back to the Shield to face criminal charges, while at the same time keep Lieutenant Longwell away from him long enough for him to be extradited. All this while keeping Sarah unaware of what we decided. Is that the plan?" He asked. "Yes. Not a tall order at all."

~~

Peter looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps.

~~


“Somehow,” Redford said, “the men of the Shield knew that would be the case.” He decided to leave the meaning ambiguous.

“Well!” said Redford, stretching. “I’ve most enjoyed our little tête-à-tête, Lord Captain Commander...”

He trailed off, hoping that Alexandr would take the clue and his leave.

Aleksandr had already vanished, and could be seen in the distance being yelled at by a short, round little woman. But Redford wasn't free from being disturbed yet. A tall woman in a Commissar's Uniform, holding a list of precedences, had appeared next to him. "Sir, do you have a noble title of any description? Or are you the recipient of a knighthood?"[/QUOTE]

IC: Uh... serial number? My name is Kiro Starfighter from the United Republics of Tiburon, but I really don't think I have a... serial number...

The officer raised an eyebrow, flipping through the list. "Secretary of State... right?" The foreign title almost being spat. "Very well, young master... Starfighter, I will arrange for a suitable companion for you to enter the ball with."

Simon made a sound very much like, "Ohmydeargod...' but he wouldn't repeat it when pressed. "Okay. I need to find a way to extradite Sir Richard back to the Shield to face criminal charges, while at the same time keep Lieutenant Longwell away from him long enough for him to be extradited. All this while keeping Sarah unaware of what we decided. Is that the plan?" He asked. "Yes. Not a tall order at all."

Bradsworth shrugged. "I hope they didn't tell you that a Prime Minister has an easy time of it.

"Now, then, there's no use griping while we have work to do. As far as I know, there are no bi-lateral extradition treaties between Iansisle and the Divine Imperium, correct?"

Peter looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps.
~~

((I assumed that Daniel was heading back to talk with Peter, correct?))

Aleksandr had already vanished, and could be seen in the distance being yelled at by a short, round little woman. But Redford wasn't free from being disturbed yet. A tall woman in a Commissar's Uniform, holding a list of precedences, had appeared next to him. "Sir, do you have a noble title of any description? Or are you the recipient of a knighthood?"

"I am a Knight Commander of the Most Noble and Venerated Order of the Sapphire," said Redford. His tone was pleasant, even a bit immodest; quite different than when he was speaking to Alexandr.

“His Majesty uses the Order of the Sapphire, the third highest in the Iansislean precedence, to reward his most faithful military commanders. I have also received the Ian Cross, first class, for my services to the Shield and have posted captain in the RIN.”

He smiled and clasped his hands behind his back. “Anything else I can help you with, ma’am?”

Bradsworth shrugged. "I hope they didn't tell you that a Prime Minister has an easy time of it.

"Now, then, there's no use griping while we have work to do. As far as I know, there are no bi-lateral extradition treaties between Iansisle and the Divine Imperium, correct?"

Simon shook his head. "I don't believe so, no. And calling parliament will be inconvenient, to say the least..." he paused, and smiled. "However, I do believe that there is an 'In Hot Pursuit' clause between our two nations..." the former policeman's smile was radiant. "You brought some Shieldian security officers with you, yes?"



((I assumed that Daniel was heading back to talk with Peter, correct?))

(( :eek: Where'd my words go?))

Daniel walked outside and smiled at Sarah, kissing her cheek. "Dear, you need to go and get changed..." he said, ruffling her hair. She looked a bit disappointed, but stepped forward and kissed him properly before curtseying to Peter and leaving.

Daniel turned to face Peter once she was gone. "Mr. Longwell, I have arranged for Sir Richard to be sent back to the Shield for justice to take its course after the wedding. You will have your vengeance, but only if you behave yourself for the remainder of the ceremonies." The Prince refrained from adding, 'or you might be joining him...'

"I am a Knight Commander of the Most Noble and Venerated Order of the Sapphire," said Redford. His tone was pleasant, even a bit immodest; quite different than when he was speaking to Alexandr.

“His Majesty uses the Order of the Sapphire, the third highest in the Iansislean precedence, to reward his most faithful military commanders. I have also received the Ian Cross, first class, for my services to the Shield and have posted captain in the RIN.”

He smiled and clasped his hands behind his back. “Anything else I can help you with, ma’am?”[/QUOTE]

I was under the assumption that Iansisle was supposed to be Britain (they have the whole United Kingdom thing going on)... where is it?

((Ah, my bad. I assume that everyone is as intimately familiar with Iansisle as I am.

'The Shield' is a term which refers to a specific geographic location on north of Troobodia Bay on the fictional continent of Tilsitia (which is just east of Novar Ohun). As northwest Tilsitia tends to be an inhospitable place, the Shield rose to prominence in the area. It became a maritime empire based around Troobodia Bay.

Ian’s Island was the name for the island upon which sits Dûn Ádien, the residence of the King of Shadoran (one of the Seven Kingdoms of the Shield). As Shadoran’s power waxed, she put down the other six states by 1697 and united the Shieldians under one banner for the first time since 1091. The official name was the ‘Grand Empire of the Shield and Troobodia’ but the state was also known as ‘Iansisle’ after the high king of the empire’s residence.

Very recently, the old empire was overthrown in the Gull Flag Revolution, which was led by Charles Bradsworth. To placate conservative forces, however, Bradsworth compromised and firmly joined the seven kingdoms in one ‘United Kingdom of the Shield.’ Our culture/traditions are based loosely on the United Kingdom of Great Britain’s, but other than that we bear no similarities.

Summary: Iansisle’s a state on a fictional continent in the north pacific. Sorry again for being irritable - I was tired. I'm usually pretty easy-going about stuff like that. ;)))

Bradsworth shrugged. "I hope they didn't tell you that a Prime Minister has an easy time of it.

"Now, then, there's no use griping while we have work to do. As far as I know, there are no bi-lateral extradition treaties between Iansisle and the Divine Imperium, correct?"

Simon shook his head. "I don't believe so, no. And calling parliament will be inconvenient, to say the least..." he paused, and smiled. "However, I do believe that there is an 'In Hot Pursuit' clause between our two nations..." the former policeman's smile was radiant. "You brought some Shieldian security officers with you, yes?"


((I assumed that Daniel was heading back to talk with Peter, correct?))

(( :eek: Where'd my words go?))

Daniel walked outside and smiled at Sarah, kissing her cheek. "Dear, you need to go and get changed..." he said, ruffling her hair. She looked a bit disappointed, but stepped forward and kissed him properly before curtseying to Peter and leaving.

Daniel turned to face Peter once she was gone. "Mr. Longwell, I have arranged for Sir Richard to be sent back to the Shield for justice to take its course after the wedding. You will have your vengeance, but only if you behave yourself for the remainder of the ceremonies." The Prince refrained from adding, 'or you might be joining him...'

"I am a Knight Commander of the Most Noble and Venerated Order of the Sapphire," said Redford. His tone was pleasant, even a bit immodest; quite different than when he was speaking to Alexandr.

“His Majesty uses the Order of the Sapphire, the third highest in the Iansislean precedence, to reward his most faithful military commanders. I have also received the Ian Cross, first class, for my services to the Shield and have posted captain in the RIN.”

He smiled and clasped his hands behind his back. “Anything else I can help you with, ma’am?”

The Commissar sketched some notes in her paper, and clamped her fist over her heart. "Captain, as an unmarried knight you will be expected to perform a full dance-circuit," she said, running her pencil down a list of precedences. "Things here are rather formalised... ah, here it is." she marked his name off on the list. "Unless you are here as part of a security detail, or have your own escort."

((Ah, my bad. I assume that everyone is as intimately familiar with Iansisle as I am.

'The Shield' is a term which refers to a specific geographic location on north of Troobodia Bay on the fictional continent of Tilsitia (which is just east of Novar Ohun). As northwest Tilsitia tends to be an inhospitable place, the Shield rose to prominence in the area. It became a maritime empire based around Troobodia Bay.

Ian’s Island was the name for the island upon which sits Dûn Ádien, the residence of the King of Shadoran (one of the Seven Kingdoms of the Shield). As Shadoran’s power waxed, she put down the other six states by 1697 and united the Shieldians under one banner for the first time since 1091. The official name was the ‘Grand Empire of the Shield and Troobodia’ but the state was also known as ‘Iansisle’ after the high king of the empire’s residence.

Very recently, the old empire was overthrown in the Gull Flag Revolution, which was led by Charles Bradsworth. To placate conservative forces, however, Bradsworth compromised and firmly joined the seven kingdoms in one ‘United Kingdom of the Shield.’ Our culture/traditions are based loosely on the United Kingdom of Great Britain’s, but other than that we bear no similarities.

Summary: Iansisle’s a state on a fictional continent in the north pacific. Sorry again for being irritable - I was tired. I'm usually pretty easy-going about stuff like that. ;)))

((Ditto for Roania, only Novar Ohan is a bit to the North and West of the Shield. But my empire is everywhere! Note: The Divine Imperium itself has a population of only 2 billion. Everyone else in my population is scattered across my empire.))

Victoria returned to the Queen's chambers where the Queen was nowhere to be been except the Regent who was watching a U21 World Cup cup game. "She's fast asleep after she had dinner." she commented after she entered wtith a bundled of documents under her armed. "Oh, she never liked flying. That the World Cup on?" she sighed.

"It's under 21s. We're playing some 7JM team and leading and I forgot to tell your husband coached the World Cup team into Group stage for the 1st time in Jeruselem." he replied not moving from the laptop. "You mean, we made it past those qualifiers?" she gasped. "Yep, we're in Group G now. Why don't you give him a call? He's been trying to get through. Funny thing, Iansisle was in the same group and we beat them to qualify." She grabbed her mobile hid in private area of the room.

...

<next RP for the morning>

Simon shook his head. "I don't believe so, no. And calling parliament will be inconvenient, to say the least..." he paused, and smiled. "However, I do believe that there is an 'In Hot Pursuit' clause between our two nations..." the former policeman's smile was radiant. "You brought some Shieldian security officers with you, yes?"

"Well..." said Bradsworth, "It's really not a habit of His Majesty's government to haul armed guards about everywhere - a sign of distrust, you know. I suppose that Captain Redford could be deputized at a moment's notice."

(( :eek: Where'd my words go?))

((heh...I thought you just hated my post. ;)))

Daniel walked outside and smiled at Sarah, kissing her cheek. "Dear, you need to go and get changed..." he said, ruffling her hair. She looked a bit disappointed, but stepped forward and kissed him properly before curtseying to Peter and leaving.

Daniel turned to face Peter once she was gone. "Mr. Longwell, I have arranged for Sir Richard to be sent back to the Shield for justice to take its course after the wedding. You will have your vengeance, but only if you behave yourself for the remainder of the ceremonies." The Prince refrained from adding, 'or you might be joining him...'

Peter waved after Sarah as she walked off. He hoped that she wasn't angry with him.

"I see," replied Peter. Time did more to cool nerves than any amount of calming words. "I suppose that I can ...behave myself, Your Majesty. May I ask if it would be too much trouble to arrange for me to avoid them? If they should cross my path...I don't know what I would do."

The Commissar sketched some notes in her paper, and clamped her fist over her heart. "Captain, as an unmarried knight you will be expected to perform a full dance-circuit," she said, running her pencil down a list of precedences. "Things here are rather formalised... ah, here it is." she marked his name off on the list. "Unless you are here as part of a security detail, or have your own escort."

"I see," replied Redford, although he barely looked at the list. "I could hardly expect this to be informal, after cutting my teeth at Jameston."

He looked back up at the commissar. "Unfortunately, however, I do not yet have an escort. However, I'd be delighted if I could change that, Ms...?"

At the mere *suggestion* that the glorious Divine Imperium unite with the barbarians across the White Sea, the aged man spat his vodka clear across the room, through one of the Hawaiian Tiki torches, and scorching the wall right next to a rather luckless Margrave. "Are you daft, man? I mean, apart from the fact that Miss Sarah's only the daughter of a Baronet... why would we want more Anglo-Saxons than we already have?"

OCC: Sorry for my much-delayed response, but recently we've been doing some computer-reorganization around here. Is there a handy place where I could jump in?

"Well..." said Bradsworth, "It's really not a habit of His Majesty's government to haul armed guards about everywhere - a sign of distrust, you know. I suppose that Captain Redford could be deputized at a moment's notice."

"Right. Now, while I was in the Okrahnka my superior officer told me that there was a tacit understanding between the two nations that should anyone from the Shield manage to board a boat and get into Novaya Archangelsk or WhitePort, the police here would informally take him into custody and hand him over to either the consuls in one of those cities, or wait until any police men cross over from the West. They said that this informal arrangement was in place because it's only a two-hour ride by ferry nowadays between the two coasts." Simon shrugged. "I'm not sure if there's a recipricopal agreement on your side, but that's how things are done here. The DBII and Politsya don't want foreign criminals running around the place. Now, for obvious reasons I can not have Sir Richard arrested by my own security forces. But... if you have the redoubtable Captain Redford bring him back to 'assist in enquiries...'" he left that hanging.

"Of course, I can't dream of the scandal which would occur should Lady Underhawk be taken back too..."



((heh...I thought you just hated my post. ;)))

Peter waved after Sarah as she walked off. He hoped that she wasn't angry with him.

"I see," replied Peter. Time did more to cool nerves than any amount of calming words. "I suppose that I can ...behave myself, Your Majesty. May I ask if it would be too much trouble to arrange for me to avoid them? If they should cross my path...I don't know what I would do."

"Don't worry, Mr. Longwell. I intend to keep them under very close watch. I'll make sure they stay away from you." Daniel put out his hand. "I want your word as an officer, and a gentleman, you won't seek your revenge over the next few days."



"I see," replied Redford, although he barely looked at the list. "I could hardly expect this to be informal, after cutting my teeth at Jameston."

He looked back up at the commissar. "Unfortunately, however, I do not yet have an escort. However, I'd be delighted if I could change that, Ms...?"

The pretty young woman immediately snapped to attention, throwing a Shieldian-Style salute so sharp it would make even the harshest drill-sergeant weep tears of joy. "Commissar Katrina Miklovna, Lieutenant 2nd Class, HDIMS Moskva, Battlefleet White Sea, sir! Currently fleet representative of the BWS for the First Sea Lord's Naval Envoy, Captain Jensnij Stalyin, HDIMS Arkhangel Mikhail, for the duration of the Coronation, sir!"

Her hand collapsed back to her side softly, and she was once again the demure woman. "Well, it is highly unusual for someone not to bring an escort with him," she said, in a slightly scolding tone of voice.

For hundreds of years, Slavic nations have had women as commanders and fighters in war-time. Novar Ohan was the first, though, to have completely thrown open the gender barrier in both peace and war. The general idea that played in the heads of many Imperial Officers when that came through was that more honourable and less inclusive nations would hesitate fatally before opening fire on ships known to have women in them.

Then the women began reaching the top of the military ladders. And then began the kvetching... mostly from the men, though many of the Marshals and Admirals were relieved to find something more pleasant to look at than their male compatriots. As a result of such policies, in the middle of the twentieth century many of the highest positions in the Divine Imperium are filled by women. Women also make up at least 10% of the Imperium's Combat Corps, and are overwhelmingly represented in the ranks of commissioned officers in both the navy and the Legions. It's generally believed by the Air Marshals that the women are just letting the men have their fun with the shiny flying things first, before they start having goes.

((Clarifying what Katrina said: Katrina is the representative of the Battlefleet White Sea at the palace, accompanying the Naval Envoy, Stalyin, to swear loyalty to the new Tsar. There would, presumably, be several other such representatives around the place, from Battlefleet Red Sea, perhaps, or Battlefleet Micronesia, etcetera.

The First Sea Lord is a very, very, very old man who holds his position for life and hasn't seen the sea for almost twenty years now. He spends most of his time in his office in the Sunset Isles. Poke him, and he might crumble to dust. All real governing power in the navy is in the hands of an unofficial clique of senior admirals, captains, and bureaucrats. Who spend most of their time jockeying for position so as to be appointed first Sea Lord when old Bartholomew finally dies.

Probably never, as I've had him around since June. :D And that, right there, is why the DI Navy is unlikely ever to be anything more than second-rate.))

"Right. Now, while I was in the Okrahnka my superior officer told me that there was a tacit understanding between the two nations that should anyone from the Shield manage to board a boat and get into Novaya Archangelsk or WhitePort, the police here would informally take him into custody and hand him over to either the consuls in one of those cities, or wait until any police men cross over from the West. They said that this informal arrangement was in place because it's only a two-hour ride by ferry nowadays between the two coasts." Simon shrugged. "I'm not sure if there's a recipricopal agreement on your side, but that's how things are done here. The DBII and Politsya don't want foreign criminals running around the place. Now, for obvious reasons I can not have Sir Richard arrested by my own security forces. But... if you have the redoubtable Captain Redford bring him back to 'assist in enquiries...'" he left that hanging.

"Of course, I can't dream of the scandal which would occur should Lady Underhawk be taken back too..."

"I'm sure Peter would be happy to see her free here and fry the big fish. I very much doubt that Lady Underhawk had anything to do with this nasty business." Bradsworth cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"Very well. I shall speak to Captain Redford during the reception." Bradsworth checked his watch. "Which, I believe, ought to be starting formally in a moment. Care to accompany me, Prime Minister?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Longwell. I intend to keep them under very close watch. I'll make sure they stay away from you." Daniel put out his hand. "I want your word as an officer, and a gentleman, you won't seek your revenge over the next few days."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," said Peter. "Truly, you have done more than I could ask for to resolve this situation. I shall master my wrath for now; you have my solemn word."

The pretty young woman immediately snapped to attention, throwing a Shieldian-Style salute so sharp it would make even the harshest drill-sergeant weep tears of joy. "Commissar Katrina Miklovna, Lieutenant 2nd Class, HDIMS Moskva, Battlefleet White Sea, sir! Currently fleet representative of the BWS for the First Sea Lord's Naval Envoy, Captain Jensnij Stalyin, HDIMS Arkhangel Mikhail, for the duration of the Coronation, sir!"

Her hand collapsed back to her side softly, and she was once again the demure woman. "Well, it is highly unusual for someone not to bring an escort with him," she said, in a slightly scolding tone of voice.

Redford returned the salute with an amused grin on his face. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Commissar - or do you prefer Lieutenant? Katrina?

“At any rate,” he continued, arching a dark eyebrow, “I had rather hoped - and I hope that you’ll forgive my directness here - that you’d be so good as to accompany me this evening? I’m sure I could prevail upon your commanding officer to release you for the night.”

He shrugged. “It’s a celebration, right? And who wants to be working?”

"I'm sure Peter would be happy to see her free here and fry the big fish. I very much doubt that Lady Underhawk had anything to do with this nasty business." Bradsworth cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"Very well. I shall speak to Captain Redford during the reception." Bradsworth checked his watch. "Which, I believe, ought to be starting formally in a moment. Care to accompany me, Prime Minister?"

Simon checked his own watch. He nodded. "I'd be glad to, but..." he leapt into the air when a thin hand tapped his shoulder. "What in the name of the Archangel was..." the Baronet spun around and was confronted by Rachel in her 'royal uniform' of a comfortable and flattering red dress, with elbow-length red gloves and a ruby tiara. "Oh, it's you," he said, meaning, 'I'm tired, it's been a long day, I'm depressed, and it's you. Hello, you.'

Rachel gave a polite nod to Bradsworth. Simon sighed, and straightened his own tie. "Premier, might I introduce my close friend, Her Divine Imperial Highness Princess Rachel Amyn Black II, Countess of Fyodengrad, and Executive Officer of the Guild. M'lady, might I present Premier Bradsworth of the United Kingdom of the Shield."

Rachel curtsied slightly, but her eyebrow raised at the mention of 'Kingdom'. She hid a faint smile behind her lips from Simon, who himself appeared oblivious. "It is always a pleasure to meet the representative of the Government of the G... of our esteemed cousin the King of the Shield."

((I noticed that Bradsworth had sent a transmission to Fultonia from Roania. Since all such communications are in the hands of the Guild... and the Guild's loyalty to anyone except itself is suspect... you connect the dots. Rachel is harmless, though. She's one of a group of about 10 people in the upper ranks of Imperial Society who actually found the revolution to be 'unhorrifying', and it wouldn't amuse her to imperil its architect. Besides, the emasculation of the Company had caused a sudden outbreak of ecstasy right through the free cities and Port Agua. :D ))

If that seems silly, or unlikely, or hasn't happened yet, or Bradsworth used a secure line of his own... just ignore the hint about 'the Gull-Flag republic'))


"Thank you, Your Majesty," said Peter. "Truly, you have done more than I could ask for to resolve this situation. I shall master my wrath for now; you have my solemn word."

"Right. Thanks for that," Daniel said, rubbing his brow clean of sweat. "Um... could you find your way to the ballroom? I need to speak to Sarah, and send servants to find the Underhawks..." he sighed. "I just wish we could have met again under less unpleasant circumstances."



Redford returned the salute with an amused grin on his face. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Commissar - or do you prefer Lieutenant? Katrina?

“At any rate,” he continued, arching a dark eyebrow, “I had rather hoped - and I hope that you’ll forgive my directness here - that you’d be so good as to accompany me this evening? I’m sure I could prevail upon your commanding officer to release you for the night.”

He shrugged. “It’s a celebration, right? And who wants to be working?”

Katrina strove to hide her blush at that, her own grey eyes looking downwards in a surprisingly demure fashion. "Of... of course, Captain... and Katrina would... would be just fine, sir." Needless to say, the attempt at hiding embarassment didn't go well.

Victoria returned to the Queen's chambers where the Queen was nowhere to be been except the Regent who was watching a U21 World Cup cup game. "She's fast asleep after she had dinner." she commented after she entered wtith a bundled of documents under her armed. "Oh, she never liked flying. That the World Cup on?" she sighed.

"It's under 21s. We're playing some 7JM team and leading and I forgot to tell your husband coached the World Cup team into Group stage for the 1st time in Jeruselem." he replied not moving from the laptop. "You mean, we made it past those qualifiers?" she gasped. "Yep, we're in Group G now. Why don't you give him a call? He's been trying to get through. Funny thing, Iansisle was in the same group and we beat them to qualify." She grabbed her mobile hid in private area of the room.

...

<next RP for the morning>

A servant lookd up at soft sounds coming from the Royal Apartment. He walked over, and knocked softly on the door. "Your majesty?"

Rachel curtsied slightly, but her eyebrow raised at the mention of 'Kingdom'. She hid a faint smile behind her lips from Simon, who himself appeared oblivious. "It is always a pleasure to meet the representative of the Government of the G... of our esteemed cousin the King of the Shield."

"It's an honor, Your Highness," said Bradsworth with a deep bow. "His Shieldian Majesty instructs me to send best wishes to the entire Divine Royal Family and to communicate the wish that His Majesty could have been present at this ceremony."

While he spewed this, however, his eyes were curiously evaluating the relationship between Rachel and Simon.

((I noticed that Bradsworth had sent a transmission to Fultonia from Roania. Since all such communications are in the hands of the Guild... and the Guild's loyalty to anyone except itself is suspect... you connect the dots. Rachel is harmless, though. She's one of a group of about 10 people in the upper ranks of Imperial Society who actually found the revolution to be 'unhorrifying', and it wouldn't amuse her to imperil its architect. Besides, the emasculation of the Company had caused a sudden outbreak of ecstasy right through the free cities and Port Agua. :D ))

If that seems silly, or unlikely, or hasn't happened yet, or Bradsworth used a secure line of his own... just ignore the hint about 'the Gull-Flag republic'))

((I had assumed that Bradsworth would have used secure lines, but my motto is "the more interesting, the better!" ;)

I do want to transition to the 'Gull Flag Republic" pretty soon (because that's SO much cooler than the 'United Kingdom of the Shield' :)) but am having trouble because a combination of sloth, work, and apathy has let me fall so far behind in my other threads. Basically, Bradsworth wants a republic, but he also doesn't want to endanger his position by pissing off the conservative elements of society. Madders, on the other hand (yes, I swear he's still around!) would rather throw caution to the wind and finalize the 'emancipation of the Shieldian peoples.'

Bradsworth's caught between a rock and a hard place, and he knows it. If he moves too quickly, he loses what support he has garnered among the landed interests; too slowly, and he loses support among the radical elements of the new government.

In conclusion: the Guild is welcome to have intercepted that message. I didn't really think anything about it when I was writing, but we all have to accept the consequences of our actions. :)))

"Right. Thanks for that," Daniel said, rubbing his brow clean of sweat. "Um... could you find your way to the ballroom? I need to speak to Sarah, and send servants to find the Underhawks..." he sighed. "I just wish we could have met again under less unpleasant circumstances."

"As do I, Your Majesty. I'll find my way all right." Peter started to walk away, and then looked up at Daniel.

"You - you'll tell Sarah that I'm sorry, won't you, Your Majesty? I never meant to catch her up in all this - I'd never want to hurt her."

Katrina strove to hide her blush at that, her own grey eyes looking downwards in a surprisingly demure fashion. "Of... of course, Captain... and Katrina would... would be just fine, sir." Needless to say, the attempt at hiding embarassment didn't go well.

"Splendid!" exclaimed Redford, a grin splitting his handsome face. "Though I ought to mention that my name is either James or Jim, not 'sir.' At least, not to one so pretty as yourself."

He glanced down at the clipboard again. "I assume this means that I will have the pleasure of your company during the dances? I promise not to step on your toes too many times."

A servant lookd up at soft sounds coming from the Royal Apartment. He walked over, and knocked softly on the door. "Your majesty?"

The Queen lazily got up after having some coffee and attending to Arthur got to answer the door. The Regent was in the bathroom dressing for new day. Mariah was dressed in a rather revealing bathrobe but didn't care anyway. For a 30 year old, she looked early 20's.The servants were already hard at work preparing the clothing for the day while Nanny was feeding Arthur. Victoria was still asleep after a rather long working day.

"Good morning, good sir! What good news doth thy servant have for the day. Don't be embarassed, I'm not going to bite!" she opened the door and cheerfully smiled not bothering hide her figure. Her mother was rather different in this manner but her college days showed at times as modesty was not one of her biggest attributes.

She was in her charming mood today and was provocative without trying. While her Catholic Jewish mother was closer to the Mary, Queen of Scots, then daughter was more like Princess Grace of Monaco.

A guard was moving in for the morning shift and patted the servant on back before moving into position.

"It's an honor, Your Highness," said Bradsworth with a deep bow. "His Shieldian Majesty instructs me to send best wishes to the entire Divine Royal Family and to communicate the wish that His Majesty could have been present at this ceremony."

While he spewed this, however, his eyes were curiously evaluating the relationship between Rachel and Simon.

"Simon, we need to go. The Esteemed Minister from the Court of St. James has put the ambassador from Berlin into a headlock and is... breaching diplomatic immunity, shall we say," Rachel said, rubbing Simon's shoulder as he closed his eyes and muttered. "To be fair, it is our own fault for being neutral..."

Simon grumbled again. "Yes, Rachel..." he replied, sighing. "I'll head down there and threaten to declare them personaes-non-gratis..." he straightened his tie.

Rachel dusted some lint from his shoulder, and nodded, clearly unsatisfied with his simple suit. "At the very least, could you pin your Archangel's Cross on before you do?" she acted like Bradsworth was not in the room, sending a clear point to both of them. The point might have been, 'I get paid more in a day than you fellows make in a year, so obviously I'm smarter than you. BOW BEFORE THE WRATH OF WOMAN!'

Then again, she could just be taking her revenge on Simon for the varying amounts of pain he'd caused her over the weeks of preparation, by humiliating him in front of the Premier. Simon sighed in a long-suffering manner. "Yes, Your Serene Highness..."

Rachel darted back as if slapped, giving Simon the chance to make a get-away. "Just do it. At least try to look like a Prime Minister." she mumbled as she curtsied once more to Bradsworth and glided out of the room, removing one of her gloves.

Simon sighed again. "I understand you don't allow women the vote?" The PM asked the Premier. "What's that like?"



<Props to anyone who can remember why calling someone 'Your Serene Highness' would be an insult in the current regime...>



((I had assumed that Bradsworth would have used secure lines, but my motto is "the more interesting, the better!" ;)

I do want to transition to the 'Gull Flag Republic" pretty soon (because that's SO much cooler than the 'United Kingdom of the Shield' :)) but am having trouble because a combination of sloth, work, and apathy has let me fall so far behind in my other threads. Basically, Bradsworth wants a republic, but he also doesn't want to endanger his position by pissing off the conservative elements of society. Madders, on the other hand (yes, I swear he's still around!) would rather throw caution to the wind and finalize the 'emancipation of the Shieldian peoples.'

Bradsworth's caught between a rock and a hard place, and he knows it. If he moves too quickly, he loses what support he has garnered among the landed interests; too slowly, and he loses support among the radical elements of the new government.

In conclusion: the Guild is welcome to have intercepted that message. I didn't really think anything about it when I was writing, but we all have to accept the consequences of our actions. :)))

((...Secure... lines? :confused: They exist?! Hold me... I'm scared...))


"As do I, Your Majesty. I'll find my way all right." Peter started to walk away, and then looked up at Daniel.

"You - you'll tell Sarah that I'm sorry, won't you, Your Majesty? I never meant to catch her up in all this - I'd never want to hurt her."

Daniel nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He turned, and walked through a section of wall that slid away behind him. As he headed towards Sarah's chambers, he dispatched a servant to find the Underhawks.

He rapped on her door softly. "Sarah? Can I come in?"

"It's not locked!"

He nodded, and slowly opened it. "Sarah, we need to talk..." he said, closing the door behind him and locking it when he noticed she wasn't particularly advanced in getting dressed. He sat down on her bed and gestured for her to sit next to him.

"What do we need to talk about?" she asked, sitting down beside him and leaning in on his shoulder.

He sighed, and told her what he and the Premier had decided.

~~

~~
Sarah looked strickenly up at him. "But... but... surely you don't believe Peter's story... I mean, it's stress from..." she watched him nod, and started to cry. "Why?" she begged, hitting his shoulder.

Daniel sighed. "Because I don't trust your father... I'll admit I don't have much experience with this type of thing, but he reminds me a bit of Rinehart... or even Kroenen." he half expected the slap, and merely closed his eyes when it came.

"That's my father you're talking about..." she shouted, slapping him again. "And... and..." her tears began to flow even faster, and she buried herself into his side, staining his suit.

He put an arm around her bare waist, and tried to say something soothing, but shook his head. There was nothing he could say to make up for this. "Shhh... shhh... it will be okay, Sarah..."

"I... I was so happy to see him again... after ten years... and now..." she fell silent, closing her eyes and resting her head on his side, trying to be calm.


"Splendid!" exclaimed Redford, a grin splitting his handsome face. "Though I ought to mention that my name is either James or Jim, not 'sir.' At least, not to one so pretty as yourself."

He glanced down at the clipboard again. "I assume this means that I will have the pleasure of your company during the dances? I promise not to step on your toes too many times."

Katrina smiled herself, but looked a bit concerned. "Um... James, I'm not really dressed for a dance..." she said, looking down at her uniform-clad frame. "But..." she turned red again. "If you aren't worried..."

She picked up her pencil, and keyed her own name in next to his, before smiling back up at him. "This is highly irregular..." she mumbled, clearly embarassed at being singled out like this. "But... thank you."

Simon sighed again. "I understand you don't allow women the vote?" The PM asked the Premier. "What's that like?"

Bradsworth bowed to Rachel as she swept out of the room.

"Things are much quieter," he quipped. "And there're not nearly so many headaches. I honestly can't imagine how you do it."

Bradsworth walked forward and held the door open for Simon. "I gather we had best to the ballroom with all haste. I should hate to see a fury greater than all Hell's."

Katrina smiled herself, but looked a bit concerned. "Um... James, I'm not really dressed for a dance..." she said, looking down at her uniform-clad frame. "But..." she turned red again. "If you aren't worried..."

She picked up her pencil, and keyed her own name in next to his, before smiling back up at him. "This is highly irregular..." she mumbled, clearly embarassed at being singled out like this. "But... thank you."

"You are dressed as the proud officer of an honorable service," replied Redford, "and I cannot think of any better way to attend a formal event." He laughed and indicated his own uniform.

"Of course, Old Man Westergate - the Lord Commander Home Fleet - would have a heart attack if he knew I were here in my blazer. He refuses to believe that tailcoats, breeches, and cravats have gone out of style."

Redford indicated a little potbellied man waddling past dressed in the brown shirt and ribbon of the Revolution. "And let's just say that, considering the company I arrived with, I certainly didn't want to be the worst dressed."

sry about the absences, stupid life and society were getting my way.

SO whats new?

Bradsworth bowed to Rachel as she swept out of the room.

"Things are much quieter," he quipped. "And there're not nearly so many headaches. I honestly can't imagine how you do it."

Bradsworth walked forward and held the door open for Simon. "I gather we had best to the ballroom with all haste. I should hate to see a fury greater than all Hell's."

"Hah. You know, DIM wants me to marry her?" The PM checked his pocket, and sighed, withdrawing from it a rather garish cross which he pinned to his breast-pocket. "I believe the door is this way..." he stepped through, and froze. The first thing that came to mind was the absence of both the in-laws, and of the Bride and Groom. The second was Rachel firmly sending the two ambassadors to the opposite sides of the room. "I'd worry about Britain and the Reich declaring war on us, but after they've dealt with our women..."

He flinched visibly when Rachel slid up to them. "Took you too long enough. Don't worry, I dealt with it." she firmly took Simon by the hand. "Simon, we need to open the ball. Premier, please. Do mingle, I'll release him for you as soon as we've had our first dance."

Simon grumbled, and gave a slight nod of his head to Bradsworth as he was pulled off by the beautiful young woman.



"You are dressed as the proud officer of an honorable service," replied Redford, "and I cannot think of any better way to attend a formal event." He laughed and indicated his own uniform.

"Of course, Old Man Westergate - the Lord Commander Home Fleet - would have a heart attack if he knew I were here in my blazer. He refuses to believe that tailcoats, breeches, and cravats have gone out of style."

Redford indicated a little potbellied man waddling past dressed in the brown shirt and ribbon of the Revolution. "And let's just say that, considering the company I arrived with, I certainly didn't want to be the worst dressed."

Katrina covered her mouth, trying to hide a laugh. "As you say, Captain James..." she smiled, rather prettily. "Shall we enter the ball?" She slid the lists onto a table and took his hand.

sry about the absences, stupid life and society were getting my way.

SO whats new?

((Nothing much. I'm waiting on your characters, LRR's characters, and Tib to enter the ball before I post my big speech thingy. If anyone sees LRR, tell him he can leap in wherever and we'll assume that Ivan got bored and wandered off. Big bearded men can do that, you know.))

The Queen lazily got up after having some coffee and attending to Arthur got to answer the door. The Regent was in the bathroom dressing for new day. Mariah was dressed in a rather revealing bathrobe but didn't care anyway. For a 30 year old, she looked early 20's.The servants were already hard at work preparing the clothing for the day while Nanny was feeding Arthur. Victoria was still asleep after a rather long working day.

"Good morning, good sir! What good news doth thy servant have for the day. Don't be embarassed, I'm not going to bite!" she opened the door and cheerfully smiled not bothering hide her figure. Her mother was rather different in this manner but her college days showed at times as modesty was not one of her biggest attributes.

She was in her charming mood today and was provocative without trying. While her Catholic Jewish mother was closer to the Mary, Queen of Scots, then daughter was more like Princess Grace of Monaco.

A guard was moving in for the morning shift and patted the servant on back before moving into position.

The servant fell to the ground, banging his head and assuming the pose best described as 'drunken frog'. "Oh, I do beg your pardon my lady... I was wondering if the Princess had come visiting, though, since I heard sounds inside... she hasn't been seen all night, and she doesn't have a residence of her own in the capital."

Simon grumbled, and gave a slight nod of his head to Bradsworth as he was pulled off by the beautiful young woman.

Bradsworth smiled at the helpless Simon. Spotting the East Islandian delegation (and the equally helpless Gifford), he decided to make tracks in that direction.

Katrina covered her mouth, trying to hide a laugh. "As you say, Captain James..." she smiled, rather prettily. "Shall we enter the ball?" She slid the lists onto a table and took his hand.

“But of course,” replied Redford, leading the way and smiling at his own good fortune.

((Just a time waster while I’m waiting for that promised speech ;)))

The servant fell to the ground, banging his head and assuming the pose best described as 'drunken frog'. "Oh, I do beg your pardon my lady... I was wondering if the Princess had come visiting, though, since I heard sounds inside... she hasn't been seen all night, and she doesn't have a residence of her own in the capital."

The Queen picked up the stricken servant off out of his weird stance so he was standing and patted him on the head.

"Now, now. No need to be so apologetic. She left my room after your Prime Minister, Simon I think, rudely gatecrashed and they wandered off in that direction. It was about 5 PM she left for some guild matter. As I remember there was some ball or something held last night and I couldn't attend. Maybe they attended the ball and slipped away afterwards. I don't know but knowing Rachel who is a bit too much like her auntie, me, sometimes she might do something impetious. I suggest you get your inquisition or angels or whatever you call them to ask the ball guests to check" she comforted the servant and paused to think.

"She shouldn't go disappearing like that without any notification to the Tzar or palace authorities, but she's not here. OK, I may look like her but I'm not Princess Rachel. Actually, you checked the Prime Minister's residence?" she ended her thoughts.

Kim hissed in annoyance as she entered the ballroom, though she did so quietly and so that no one could hear. Every time she lifted that damned arm, her shawl, draped over her back, would come lose and expose the tattoo on her back. She remembered that one of her advisors had told her to pick the dress, and that she would look better with a shawl.

She silently made a mental note to find the advisor and yell at her as much as possible sometime later.

Kim sighed, and readjusted her clothes. She saw Yuki, dancing gracefully with her husband, and shook her head in envy. She had no inkling of what she was supposed to do now, and she was unsure as to who was to ask who to dance; was the man supposed to ask someone? Or the women?

She spotted a nearby unattached male, and made her way towards him. (Anyone can RP this male).

"I am Premier Kim Eun-jin of East Islandia," she said to him by way of introduction. She stuck out her hand (she vaguely rmeembered that the action was what westerners did).

The officer raised an eyebrow, flipping through the list. "Secretary of State... right?" The foreign title almost being spat. "Very well, young master... Starfighter, I will arrange for a suitable companion for you to enter the ball with."

Kiro had little time for the negative opinion of some random person in a semineutral-semihostile country... he had had enough for the day as it was. "Do whatever you want to. The only reason I'm here is to see Daniel Black. Save it for my brother and Kigari... they're coming later. Can you show me where he is, by any chance?"

OOC: Yes, Nova will be landing shortly, and all three will enter.

Simon rose to the top of the diadem in the ballroom, and lightly rang his spoon against his glass. "May I have your attention, please?" The various news-media spun in a circle and focussed on the one-eyed Prime Minister. All conversation around the room stilled. "Thank you."

He took a deep breath, and began. "When Prince Regent Alexander Black first instituted democracy, 75 years ago, he viewed it to be the birthright of any honest and adult nation. But, more than that, he viewed it as a responsibility. In his first address on the subject, he told us 'All citizens of any country have the responsibility to rule themselves as well as they can.'"

"Prince Alexander would no doubt be pleased to know that we have risen to the challenge. The men and women of this nation have demonstrated repeatedly that they are capable of governing themselves. But it is a sad irony that Prince Alexander's own grandson, acting with the support of a gang of criminals, murderers and radicals managed to destroy that sacred bond for ten whole years. This night, we should not forget all those who had to die to return the throne to its true owner and power to those it had been given to. Their voices, though stilled, cry out that we not let their deaths go in vain! That we should use what has been given to us, and rebuild our sacred Imperium!"

"To that end -- and over my stringent objections -- his Divine Imperial Highness the Tsaraevitch has approved a constitution for this nation, to safeguard against the events of the past ten years ever occuring again. He has announced that henceforth, all power to promulgate laws for the nation is devolved upon the Imperial Duma. All power for state legislation is devolved upon the Legislative Assemblies and Parliaments of each state. As Prime Minister-Designate, I hereby accept this heavy burden, and pledge myself to work for the greater glory of his Imperium, to rule and to guide as well as I can. And I promise, for both myself and my successors, that we will stand for nothing more than the greater and lesser goods of this nation."

"Not for this." Simon gave the Fascist Salute.

"Nor for this." Simon raised a clenched fist.

"But this." He slammed his fist over his heart and extended it downwards in the old Imperial fashion. "Faith and Duty!" He roared.

The assembled Imperial nobles and dignitaries, no matter where they were in the room, followed suit. "FAITH AND DUTY!"

"God Save our Tsar. God Bless the Divine Imperium. And God Protect Us All." He bowed, and stepped back down.

“But of course,” replied Redford, leading the way and smiling at his own good fortune.

((Just a time waster while I’m waiting for that promised speech ;)))

Katrina stepped out of attention, and clapped politely with the other Imperials at the end of the speech. She turned to James, and looked a bit concerned. "Um... I've never done this before, so... I'm not sure if this is how it goes... but... would you like to dance?"

~~

A servant knocked politely on the guest-room of the Underhawks. "My lord and lady, their Divine Imperial Highnesses were wondering if you would be attending the celebrations tonight?"

~~

The band by the door suddenly struck up the Marche Slave as Daniel and Sarah slowly glided into the room from the top-stairs, the Islandian leis around their neck. Only the slightest redness in Sarah's eyes showed her pain, but she managed to cover magnificiently, accepting Simon's kiss with barely a hint of fury.

Daniel, for his part, was looking uncomfortably around in his dinner suit.

The Queen picked up the stricken servant off out of his weird stance so he was standing and patted him on the head.

"Now, now. No need to be so apologetic. She left my room after your Prime Minister, Simon I think, rudely gatecrashed and they wandered off in that direction. It was about 5 PM she left for some guild matter. As I remember there was some ball or something held last night and I couldn't attend. Maybe they attended the ball and slipped away afterwards. I don't know but knowing Rachel who is a bit too much like her auntie, me, sometimes she might do something impetious. I suggest you get your inquisition or angels or whatever you call them to ask the ball guests to check" she comforted the servant and paused to think.

"She shouldn't go disappearing like that without any notification to the Tzar or palace authorities, but she's not here. OK, I may look like her but I'm not Princess Rachel. Actually, you checked the Prime Minister's residence?" she ended her thoughts.

"His Excellency's residence?" the servant squeaked. "But... how would she get there? That's all the way on the other side of the river! On top of a hill! With an armed guard! And big scary...*cough* Well, it isn't that much of an emergency... will you be having breakfast?"

"His Excellency's residence?" the servant squeaked. "But... how would she get there? That's all the way on the other side of the river! On top of a hill! With an armed guard! And big scary...*cough* Well, it isn't that much of an emergency... will you be having breakfast?"

"Just give us 15 minutes. We'll be at breakfast, I can't go dressed like this can I, but some of my dresses aren't much more modest than this bathroom robe. That's my problem anyway and don't worry about Rachel, she'll be fine. I assume the Tzar will be attending?" she smiled back.

The Regent walked gracefully out of the bathroom in his military uniform and stopped. "Anyone say breakfast? Mariah, can you stop greeting servants dressed like that, like your Mum said. It's not college you know." he grumbled and she teased back "You didn't complain when you turned to my room. In fact, you didn't mind when I forget to wear anything at all, that right?". The Regent turned red and shut up.

She turned to the servant "Come back in 15 minutes and we'll be ready to go.".

Katrina stepped out of attention, and clapped politely with the other Imperials at the end of the speech. She turned to James, and looked a bit concerned. "Um... I've never done this before, so... I'm not sure if this is how it goes... but... would you like to dance?"

Redford too had listened to the speech, though he was at ease the entire time. At the end he clapped as enthusiastically as anyone else before turning to Katrina. He wondered at the concern in her eyes; surely, as pretty a girl as her didn't have problems speaking to the other gender.

"Give up the chance to dance with one as beautiful as yourself?" asked Redford in faux horror. "M'dear, they have to drum me out of the service as mentally unfit if that were the case."

He listened for the music to judge what step he ought to be in. Most sons of the Gadsani plutocracy weren't as well cultured as those from the Shieldian aristocracy, but all Navy officers - especially single ones like Redford - had to be well trained in courtly behavior.

A servant knocked politely on the guest-room of the Underhawks. "My lord and lady, their Divine Imperial Highnesses were wondering if you would be attending the celebrations tonight?"

Sir Richard had his arm around Lady Underhawk. He looked up at the servant, whose words were all but incomprehensable.

"Are their Divine Imperial Hignesses assured that there will be no further baseless allegations from that awful boy to upset my wife?" he asked. Lady Underhawk let out a muffled cry. "There's nothing I'd rather see than my daughter's marriage, but Lady Underhawk is very sensitive to these things, you know," continued Sir Richard.

Kim hissed in annoyance as she entered the ballroom, though she did so quietly and so that no one could hear. Every time she lifted that damned arm, her shawl, draped over her back, would come lose and expose the tattoo on her back. She remembered that one of her advisors had told her to pick the dress, and that she would look better with a shawl.

She silently made a mental note to find the advisor and yell at her as much as possible sometime later.

Kim sighed, and readjusted her clothes. She saw Yuki, dancing gracefully with her husband, and shook her head in envy. She had no inkling of what she was supposed to do now, and she was unsure as to who was to ask who to dance; was the man supposed to ask someone? Or the women?

She spotted a nearby unattached male, and made her way towards him. (Anyone can RP this male).

"I am Premier Kim Eun-jin of East Islandia," she said to him by way of introduction. She stuck out her hand (she vaguely rmeembered that the action was what westerners did).

((Well, I'll rise to the challenge then...

*runs through mental list of personal characters*

*chooses one*

*giggles*))


The tall, black haired man gazed at the proferred hand with something akin to distaste, before clasping it and giving a firm handshake. He rapidly released, though, and instead put his two hands together and bowed. "It is an honour," he said in perfect Islandian, "Premier."

A black eyebrow raised in examination, before he spoke once more. "My name is very difficult for foreigners to pronounce. I am Xctxav. There are those, however, who call me 'X'. I am the ArchChancellor of the Divine Institute of the Academic Sciences."

((*giggles*))

Kiro had little time for the negative opinion of some random person in a semineutral-semihostile country... he had had enough for the day as it was. "Do whatever you want to. The only reason I'm here is to see Daniel Black. Save it for my brother and Kigari... they're coming later. Can you show me where he is, by any chance?"

OOC: Yes, Nova will be landing shortly, and all three will enter.

"And who are you to request to see His Divine Imperial Highness?" the officer asked, curtly. "His Lordship is not in the habit of granting audiences to everyone."

"Just give us 15 minutes. We'll be at breakfast, I can't go dressed like this can I, but some of my dresses aren't much more modest than this bathroom robe. That's my problem anyway and don't worry about Rachel, she'll be fine. I assume the Tzar will be attending?" she smiled back.

The Regent walked gracefully out of the bathroom in his military uniform and stopped. "Anyone say breakfast? Mariah, can you stop greeting servants dressed like that, like your Mum said. It's not college you know." he grumbled and she teased back "You didn't complain when you turned to my room. In fact, you didn't mind when I forget to wear anything at all, that right?". The Regent turned red and shut up.

She turned to the servant "Come back in 15 minutes and we'll be ready to go.".

The servant, very red-cheeked, fled for safety. 'Barbarians!'

Redford too had listened to the speech, though he was at ease the entire time. At the end he clapped as enthusiastically as anyone else before turning to Katrina. He wondered at the concern in her eyes; surely, as pretty a girl as her didn't have problems speaking to the other gender.

"Give up the chance to dance with one as beautiful as yourself?" asked Redford in faux horror. "M'dear, they have to drum me out of the service as mentally unfit if that were the case."

He listened for the music to judge what step he ought to be in. Most sons of the Gadsani plutocracy weren't as well cultured as those from the Shieldian aristocracy, but all Navy officers - especially single ones like Redford - had to be well trained in courtly behavior.

((Heh. Let's test that...))

Blushing furiously, Katrina offered Redford an arm. The band slowly started up with The Bells of the Archangel. Aguan music for a Minuet dance. The young woman managed to pale somewhat, though she was still slightly embarased at how fast events had moved. "Do you...um..." 'often do this at social events, Captain? Come in and sweep people off their feet? I can't ask him that..."



Sir Richard had his arm around Lady Underhawk. He looked up at the servant, whose words were all but incomprehensable.

"Are their Divine Imperial Hignesses assured that there will be no further baseless allegations from that awful boy to upset my wife?" he asked. Lady Underhawk let out a muffled cry. "There's nothing I'd rather see than my daughter's marriage, but Lady Underhawk is very sensitive to these things, you know," continued Sir Richard.

"His Divine Imperial Highness has been assured, in my hearing, that no more will be heard on this topic. It is his hope, and Princess Sarah's hope, that you will see fit to forgive the Lieutenant, though he would prefer if the pair of you kept away from each other..." the servant replied, speaking in a manner which suggested he wasn't smart enough to lie.

Blushing furiously, Katrina offered Redford an arm. The band slowly started up with The Bells of the Archangel. Aguan music for a Minuet dance. The young woman managed to pale somewhat, though she was still slightly embarased at how fast events had moved. "Do you...um..."

The minuet was often danced at Shieldian social events, and it would be a poor officer indeed who did not know the steps. Redford was not the best dancer in the RIN, but he could hold his own. He listened for the music's time and quickly adapted to the foreign style.

"Yes, Katrina?" he asked as they moved through the short steps. "Do I what?"

((I've kept saying 'Redford' even though they're on first name basis just because I've another main character named James involved in a RP right now and I confuse easily. You're welcome to use whichever you find best/easiest, of course!))

"His Divine Imperial Highness has been assured, in my hearing, that no more will be heard on this topic. It is his hope, and Princess Sarah's hope, that you will see fit to forgive the Lieutenant, though he would prefer if the pair of you kept away from each other..." the servant replied, speaking in a manner which suggested he wasn't smart enough to lie.

"I can never forgive him for the things he has said," replied Sir Richard. "He has insulted me and upset my wife and daughter. But we will attend this ceremony - I trust His Highness - if you will allow my wife and I but a few moments to freshen up."

"And who are you to request to see His Divine Imperial Highness?" the officer asked, curtly. "His Lordship is not in the habit of granting audiences to everyone."

Kiro smiled wryly (think James Bond). "You already know who I am. I'm the Secretary of State of the United Republics of Tiburon."

He sighed, and added, "Nova and I have had a... history... with the Divine Imperial whatevers."

Meanwhile, in (insert name of Roania's capital city here) International Airport, Excalpius One (a presidential sub-orbital shuttle) touched down, facing a Roanian entourage. As the President and the First Lady of Tiburon walked towards the car, First Lady Kigari turned to Nova and whispered, "Nova... I don't think I should be here. I might still be exiled..."

Nova whispered back, almost inaudibly over the roar of cooling engines, "They sent us an invitation, right? I'd think they'd know who they're inviting..."

The servant, very red-cheeked, fled for safety. 'Barbarians!'

The Queen closed the door and had a good laugh. "Did you have to do that?" the Regent sighed and the Queen replied "There's more than one way to torture people, especially of weak will. I guess he is used to more rigid codes of conduct, not my French Catholic lack modesty. Now let's get ready for this breakfast!".

<15 minutes later>

A small entourage of Jeruselem Royal family with Roania stormtroopers protecting it moved from Royal quarters. The Queen was dressed in slim but stylish business suit. The skirt was modest but not abnormally. It was white and patterned with red and gold crosses. The Regent followed the Queen in his smart Navy uniform with Victoria, the bodyguard behind him. The royal infant was left in the quarters.

The butler did notice a dull gray ring on the Queen's left hand. Undeciperable writing was inscripted (for him). It did exude some hint of ancient power.

It was weird for a Queen to lead her husband unlike most royal couples where the male was the leader and doer. He tended to shadow her, but being the 2nd most powerful person in Jeruselem wasn't that bad. He was attracted to her strange French and Jewish behaviours. Some teased him about being 2nd to a half Jewish woman, but God had made his decision for him and he didn't mind.

The Queen started chatting to the butler in absolutely perfect French to test his skills.

Victoria was carrying a large wooden box with Gold inscription and jealously guarding it as the headed to their destination. It was noticably heavy and the Regent said "You need a hand with that thing?". Victoria was the stubborn sort and declined his offer "I'll be fine. It's good for my weight training".

((Well, I'll rise to the challenge then...

*runs through mental list of personal characters*

*chooses one*

*giggles*))


The tall, black haired man gazed at the proferred hand with something akin to distaste, before clasping it and giving a firm handshake. He rapidly released, though, and instead put his two hands together and bowed. "It is an honour," he said in perfect Islandian, "Premier."

A black eyebrow raised in examination, before he spoke once more. "My name is very difficult for foreigners to pronounce. I am Xctxav. There are those, however, who call me 'X'. I am the ArchChancellor of the Divine Institute of the Academic Sciences."

((*giggles*))

Arrogant ass, Kim thought. But then, the man was the archancellor of sciences or whatnot, and as such, likely was supercilious.

Still, she found herself interested in the man, so she decided to draw up a conversation. Few spoke Islandian, and his lack of an accent made him very interesting indeed. If he could speak perfect Islandian and was also a scientist....

Most intriguing.

"You did say 'Academic Sciences', Mister X?" she asked in her native language. "You speak our language quite well...I know very few foreigners who do."

Meanwhile, to Kim's right, a beautiful woman dressed in a sleek, green shimmersilk gown listened carefully on the conversation, all the while pretending to be speaking with another Islandian.

She bore the darker complexion and gray eyes of a West Islandian, the sworn enemies of the East Islandians, though years of intermarriage had blurred the lines between the two peoples.

She watched Kim from the corner of her eye and noticed the distaste that the man whom she was speaking to bore for her.

Perhaps he could be a potential ally against the East Islandians....

"Mmm... pelzeni." Simon snatched up several of the dumplings and tore through them. Then he moved onto the caviar, and then he ate some fruit. "I love banquets..." He leaped into the air. "Damn it Rachel!" he groaned, spinning around on his feet. "Do you have to?"

He made a sound very much like eek! when she grabbed him. "Come on... at least one dance, you overgrown excuse for a Prime Minister." she rested her head on his chest briefly, before pulling back and curtseying.

Grumbling, Simon took her hands and led her into the dance.

The minuet was often danced at Shieldian social events, and it would be a poor officer indeed who did not know the steps. Redford was not the best dancer in the RIN, but he could hold his own. He listened for the music's time and quickly adapted to the foreign style.

"Yes, Katrina?" he asked as they moved through the short steps. "Do I what?"

((I've kept saying 'Redford' even though they're on first name basis just because I've another main character named James involved in a RP right now and I confuse easily. You're welcome to use whichever you find best/easiest, of course!))

((Understood. They must be quite a couple... she's probably the only woman in the entire room in trousers. Hardly particularly modest...))

Katrina blushed once more. "I was just wondering if... this is how you normally deal with situations like the one you had found yourself in... um. If you don't mind me asking. I hope I'm not... being silly, sir."



"I can never forgive him for the things he has said," replied Sir Richard. "He has insulted me and upset my wife and daughter. But we will attend this ceremony - I trust His Highness - if you will allow my wife and I but a few moments to freshen up."

"But of course." The servant withdrew.

((If the Premier arrests him during the ball, heads will roll... and his own might be among them. :D Keep to the plan...))

Kiro smiled wryly (think James Bond). "You already know who I am. I'm the Secretary of State of the United Republics of Tiburon."

He sighed, and added, "Nova and I have had a... history... with the Divine Imperial whatevers."

Meanwhile, in (insert name of Roania's capital city here) International Airport, Excalpius One (a presidential sub-orbital shuttle) touched down, facing a Roanian entourage. As the President and the First Lady of Tiburon walked towards the car, First Lady Kigari turned to Nova and whispered, "Nova... I don't think I should be here. I might still be exiled..."

Nova whispered back, almost inaudibly over the roar of cooling engines, "They sent us an invitation, right? I'd think they'd know who they're inviting..."

"The Tsaraevitch is not in the habit of meeting with little boys!" The officer barked. "All glory to the Tsaraevitch!" he rose a hand, as if he was about to strike Kiro, when a robed man stepped seemingly out of nowhere and shoved him aside.

"I'll deal with this, Comrade."

"Yes, Minister Lochlin..." the officer gave a curt salute and walked off. The man who had been addressed as Minister Lochlin gave Kiro a curious look. "So, young man. You claim to be the... Foreign Secretary of Tiburon. Yes?" he looked thoughtful. "I'd like to see your... bill of presentation, unless of course the man who signed it is on his way."

With barely a word, Kigari and Nova had been shuffled into limousines and were currently being driven through the winding streets of Tarnaqin towards the immense Imperial Palace. Around them, domes and spires glinted in the fading light, and men and women in robes and suits stood in various groupings outside buildings, arguing and waving sheets of paper around. With such things are the wheels of government turned.

Occasionally, a Church Cross loomed out of some facade, or a Military Cross was carved onto an official looking building. Once or twice, immense statues of the Archangel Michael, sword drawn and pointing to the skies, would appear and be driven past. At the same time, carefully worked sculptures of Alexander Black and his predescessors could be found everywhere.

Soon, the domes of the Palace of St. Michael loomed up ahead. "Court of the Tsars. All passengers kindly disembark here."

Arrogant ass, Kim thought. But then, the man was the archancellor of sciences or whatnot, and as such, likely was supercilious.

Still, she found herself interested in the man, so she decided to draw up a conversation. Few spoke Islandian, and his lack of an accent made him very interesting indeed. If he could speak perfect Islandian and was also a scientist....

Most intriguing.

((Oh yes. An exceedingly good ally... if he decides his own personal interests will be served.))

X smiled thinly as he listened to the Premier. "But of course, ma'am. I have had a wide range of training across the educational spectrum." He seemed bored with the entire ceremony.

((Understood. They must be quite a couple... she's probably the only woman in the entire room in trousers. Hardly particularly modest...))

Katrina blushed once more. "I was just wondering if... this is how you normally deal with situations like the one you had found yourself in... um. If you don't mind me asking. I hope I'm not... being silly, sir."

"Silly?" chuckled Redford. "No, no, not at all, Katrina. I can't say that I had ever run into a circumstance quite like this one - dateless at the biggest ball of the year, and a beautiful woman right in front of me?" He smiled.

"But I don't want to be called sir, one more time, all right?"

Redford missed a step but quickly recovered. He blushed slightly and muttered an apology.

"But of course." The servant withdrew.

((If the Premier arrests him during the ball, heads will roll... and his own might be among them. :D Keep to the plan...))

Fifteen minutes later, Sir Richard and Lady Underhawk put in their apperance at the ball. Sir Richard held his wife closely - but not such as to be scandalous! - and guided her away from the other Iansislean delegates.

((don't worry. Bradsworth's not in the habit of double crossing people simply for the sake of being contrary. :P))

Hey... um... Roania TMed me (about 4 days ago... really sorry....) that she won't be active 'til Sunday. It's late... I know, and once again, sorry. So. Yeah. That's that, I suppose...