NationStates Jolt Archive

All throughout Parade Square, throngs of people were gathered, celebrating and cheering. The War was over! The horrible, now seemingly ancient, civil war that had wracked the lonely island of Altairnia had ended. Following the death of Prince Osma, the throne claim of his cousin Valdim was uncontested. Osma's supporters were quickly offerend and olive branch, and sensing that an end to the fifty-eight year war might be in the offing, they took it. Yes, the generals and staff knew that their surrender ment that the rest of Osma's line would have to be erradicated, but the conditions offered pardoned everyone else, so it was done. Now, parading down the Square with the newly crowned king at their head, came a regiment of the gleaming Praetorians, their ceremonial armour glinting in the sunlight along with the forest of bayonets on shouldered rifles. It was quite a site, one that hadn't been seen for some time.

Though the Square had been cleared, just beyond it's gates rubble still lay in piles in the streets and alleyways. Ouranberg, the capital, had been within shelling distance of the Front, so had recieved it's fair share of bombing over the years. The city had grown over the years as a result of the bombardment, and now the entire northern half of Ouranberg was little more then a ruin, the southern half being built up as the ultimate range of the shelling put the city already at the farthest extreme. Already plans were being drawn up to rebuild Old Town, but everyone knew that it wasn't high on the list of priorities, what with the central countryside of the nation being nothing more then a blasted wasteland.

It was because of this that King Valdim, after seeing that his line was firmly assured of it's succession and the government reordered, issued and edict for the politicians to shore up foreign support for the rebuilding of their homeland. Rich contracts were to be had for those with the means to aid the Crown. The edict had also stated that international relations were to be established as well, bringing an end to nearly a thousand years of Altairnian isolationism.

(This is where all and sundry who've read this far either say 'Ooh, cool' and so on, and perhaps telegram me to set things up or, for those who arn't interested to go 'Boo, you suck' and whatnot. Cheers.)

To His Majesty King Valdim of Altairnia,

I am writing on the behalf of Emperor Mephet’ran to inquire about the possibility of his paying a state visit to your country, both to recognise the return of Altairnia to the international scene and to discuss the matters of opening trade routes between our two nations and the possibility of our providing some assistance in repairing the damage of the Civil War in Altairnia.

If you find this proposal acceptable then the Emperor would be happy to leave for Altairnia immediately. The Emperor is available to visit at any time provided you give a day’s notice.

Elash Mîraglariel,
Adjutant of the Emperor

To: Lord Emperor Mephet’ran,
Penned by the Office of his Imperial Majesty,
King Valdim Altairnus

It would be out pleasure, Lord Emperor, to host you in our modest capital of Ouranberg, and we would be more then pleased to host trade negotiations here at the Imperial Estate. At your discretion, we can arrange for a tour of our island home. If you have any special needs or desires, our staff will be more then happy to accomodate you, given sufficent advanced knowledge.

Many thanks,
Valdim Altairnis I, Lord Protector of the House Altairnus.

Leaning back in his chair, Valdim stroked his stubbly chin as he completed the simple missive. The menials on both ends would handle the rest of the details, and that was that. "Excellent," he thought, flipping through a security dossier on the C'tan. This would certainly be an important meeting indeed.

To His Majesty King Valdim of Altairnia,

We have learned of the recent ending of your civil war, and would like to welcome you back to the world stage. We have also learned of your desire for foreign contracts in addition to foreign relations.

I would be pleased to send a representative to your capital, or visit myself. Simply supply time and date.

Looking forward to growing relations,

- Elisa Day, Speaker for the Oligarchy
The Semi-Autonomous Technocratic Oligarchy of the Most Glorious Hack

1: The end of the beginning.

In quite another quarter of the globe, the Lord of the Iron Domain set down his dossiers and regarded his staff.

"So," he said, "You think there is profit to be had, Darian?"

"I do, Your Majesty. These Altairnians, with their economy is in large part ruined by their civil war - they could be easy pickings for any one of half a dozen corporations here in Ferris."

And thence, Constantine Grey thought, Their profits flow to me.

"I agree," he said aloud. "Who then shall we send?"

His Seneschal pretended to consider that, although certainly he would have compiled a mental list of candidates before ever broaching the subject of Altairnia.

"House Valerian has been making noises about their favour in Your Majesty's eyes," Darian said, "Perhaps if we were to send -"

"No," Constantine growled. "That House is fallen from my favour for good reasons - I am not about to let them get their feet into this door. Have you any Greys?"

"The Valerians need placation, Your Majesty."

"Greys, Darian."

"Well - Arnau is too old now, and Peter is, well -"

"Peter is mad, yes. Sane Greys."

"I thought perhaps Sebastian? He is young enough, sharp enough ... maybe not handsome enough, but -"

"My brother will do nicely, I think, provided I don't have to see or hear him. Consider him selected."

"Very good, Your Majesty. But the Valerians -"

"No, Darian. I refuse to send anyone who could possibly advance their cause to a delicate meeting with a foreign power."

"Yes, Your Majesty, but - what about Avery?"

Constantine stared, blinked, and burst out laughing. "Oh, Darian, that would be wonderful - if only to see the look on Severus' face! But the old man is not stupid - he knows well enough that she means nothing in the diplomatic scheme of things."

"Yes, but he can hardly complain about it - you will have been seen to offer his House a valid role in this. Valerian gets it's sop, without causing any havoc."

""Havoc" and "Avery Valerian-Reed" are inextricably entwined, Darian. But oh - ha! The look on his face!"

To the attention of His Majesty, King Valdim Altairnus, sovereign ruler of Altairnia, from His Most August Majesty, Autarch Constantine Grey, Lord of the Iron Domain, and Suzerain of the Marchlands;

Greetings and hail to our royal brother of Altairnia.

We are most pleased to see the end of your unfortunate civil war, and the acession of yourself to the throne of the Hellenic Kingdom.

In a spirit of friendship and solidarity, we would like to send our representatives to meet with you, at a time of your convenience. Those who would hold the crown must stand together, in this age of mob rule and demogoguery.

By mine own hand,

C. Grey

"Excellent, excellent Grigory!" Valdim exulted, foolishly grinning as he got up to calp the shoulder of the younger man sitting across the desk. "You've done well, Lord Gryre. Very well! Already we've got the makings of a summit on our hands. These foreigners will bring in the essentials we need to bring about the Restoration. And this is your doing, Grigory..."

"Majesty, I can hardly take all the credit..." the young lord and minister started, doing an excellent job at feigning modesty.

"Nonsense Grigory. You star is certainly rising. And if this works out well, I can certainly see much advancement in your future..."

Now Lord Grigory Gryre couldn't hide his smile. Yes, this was working out nicely. He'd already started working out arrangements for the Altairnian Trade Summit. "Highness, arrangements are being made for such a summit as you suggested. So far we have three atendees, though I'm sure more will come."

"Most excellent," the king stated, rising. "Keep me informed," he added with a nod as he strode out, the Praetorian guard flanking Gryre's office door opening it for him, before following him out.

"Well," thought the slim-faced foreign minister aloud, sitting back in his chair after the king had departed. "Let's hope that everything goes well..."

To: Speaker for the Oligarchy Elisa Day (CC: Lord Autarch Constantine Grey)
Penned by the Office of his Imperial Majesty,
King Valdim Altairnus

We of the Imperial House Altairnus would be honoured to host your representives, as we have decided to call together the first Altairnian Trade Summit, to be held in a joint session of the House of Lords in Ouranberg. We look forward to establishing relations and trade, to our mutual benifit.

Valdim Altairnis I, Lord Protector of the House Altairnus.

Elisa looked over the letter, pondering her responce. She didn't have time for a trade show herself, but she certainly wanted to send a representative or two. Getting in on the ground floor had potential for lucrative contracts. She pulled up a series of personell files and looked them over to see who she should send.

Oddly enough, what never crossed her mind was to actually mention this to the Oligarchy.

To: King Valdim Altairnus

A trade summit sounds like a fine idea. I will be sending a trio of representatives: Tina Edwards, a research scientist for North Hack Arms; and Erich Larson, an engineer working for Chiba City Telecommunications.

I will also send my personal assistant, Mia Wilkens, to represent the Oligarchy.

They look forward to your hospitality.

-Elisa Day, Speaker for the Oligarchy

2: Flying High

They met at Augustine International, accompanied (in Sebastian's case) by a cloud of Iron Hands and (in Avery's case) a tank crew.

The former knew very well that, if given the proper clearance, they could have any number of scruffy army recruits arrested without trial; the latter knew very well that, if given the proper vehicle, they could grind any number of puffed-up security agents under their treads.

Sebastian didn't care much for either group; the Iron Hands were his brother's security force, and the army ... well, as far as he was concerned the purpose of grunts was to die where directed by an officer.

Avery Valerian-Reed, however, was rather magnificently pretty (and even more magnificently well-endowed); a few years ago, before his accident, he would have been very interested. Now he regarded her salacious smile with disdain; he was no longer the handsome young man he had been, no longer cared.

"You're Sebastian Grey?" she asked.

"I am," he agreed. "And you are Avery Aisling Valerian-Reed, I presume? They warned me about you."

"They did?" that smile grew wider. "What are they saying now?"

"That you're bad news, commander. As a matter of fact they told me to stay away from you; rather difficult, given my most august brother's command."

"I'm a tank commander, Sebastian," she said. "I'm paid to be bad news."

He frowned, not much liking the familiarity. "I see," he replied. "So why exactly have you been sent along?"

Avery shrugged, which did interesting things to other parts of her anatomy. "Lord Valerian said I should see some of the world when I wasn't blowing it up?"

Oh, dear, he thought, Is this my brother's idea of "will not cause political problems", or is this some snide plan against me? "I see."

He was saved from saying anything further by the approach of a harried-looking airport official.

"Lord Grey? Commander? Your aircraft has been readied at the Aventine Gate. If you'd follow me?"

Avery's tank crew departed - since none of them had a great House to their name, none could follow them into the section of the airport reserved for the wealthy. The Iron Hands remained, moving after them and out onto the tarmac where the aeroplane waited.

The plane, like the Iron Hands, belonged to the Autarch; a Grey AeroSpace T-140, it was one of the largest, and most opulent, in Constantine's fleet. The interior echoed; there must be room enough for a hundred people, although it was only designed to accomodate a fraction of that.

Avery settled into this luxury like a cat to a lap, pilfering a drink from the minibar and stretching out on one of the couches. Sebastian sat down more gingerly - he didn't like flying in the slightest, not since his accident. When the rotors roared into life, and the plane actually began to move, he gripped the armrests tightly and began to pray.

O God our Father, Master of the Heavens and the Earth ...

Behind him, Avery yawned loudly.

"I could get used to this."

"I wish it to you, then," he replied.

"What's the matter, don't like flying?"

"No." The silence dragged on until he felt compelled to ask; "If you like this so much, why didn't you enlist in the Air Force?"

Avery made a derogatory noise and an expansive gesture with her drink. "Flying a tin can through the sky is a heck of a lot more dangerous than commanding something nice and solid on the ground, you know. Besides, you don't get minibars in fighters."

Well, that didn't help at all. Sebastian had the feeling it was going to be a long flight to Ouranberg.

To the attention of His Majesty, King Valdim Altairnus, Lord Protector of the House Altairnus and sovereign ruler of Altairnia, from His Most August Majesty, Autarch Constantine Grey, Lord of the Iron Domain, and Suzerain of the Marchlands;

Our thanks for your hospitality. Upon consideration of the avaliable candidates, we have selected our own brother, Sebastian Grey, and a scion of House Valerian, Avery Aisling Valerian-Reed, to represent the Iron Domains at your Trade Summit.

We look forward to a long and mutually profitable relationship.

By mine own hand,

C. Grey

Needless to say a letter of confirmation and interest in the Altairnian trade summit was quickly dispatched. Shortly afterward the Emperor’s arrival was low key, consisting of a small shuttle touching down in whatever seemed to be the best airfield in Altairnia – while there was little doubt in his mind that they had plenty of them, he imagined that most consisted of runways that looked rather like the surface of an asteroid.

((Apologies over brevity))

To: His Majesty King Valdim
From: Emperor Fiscal
Via: SOCOM IV

It has come to our attention via your communique that you are in need of assistance due to your recent civil war. Now, due to homeland commitments and various other foreign assignments, Kazakhstania cannot offer building contracts, but can offer supplies and support in this tiem of need.

We also know that violence is something you do not need at this time, as your country has seen a horrible civil war, as has been goign on in Kazakhstania in small scale for years, after an initial outburst of violence. However, we know that you are currently weak, and you may need protected. Therefore we suggest the sending of two military divisions and an Air Squadron to Altairnia, to protect you from other threats.

On top of that, we offer war games that will better prepare both our nations for future conflicts. Perhaps this will create better connectsions between our two great nations in the future.

Your Greatfully,

Emperor Ross Fiscal
Emperor of Kazakhstania

To: Lord Emperor Ross Fiscal of Kazakhstania
Penned by the Office of his Imperial Majesty,
King Valdim Altairnus

We would like to thank you for your most generous offer, but we find that we must decline. We do not, actually, have too great of a general supply shortage; our lack is in the specific technologies to quickly repair our ravaged land, and rebuild the cities and lives devestated by war. And while your offer of protection is also appreciated, our military is as strong as it has ever been at present, though it is tired. And we fear it will be many years before we will need to engage in retraining for our standing troops, so we must decline on your offer of wargames as well. Thank you for your understanding,

Valdim Altairnis I, Lord Protector of the House Altairnus.

It had been agreed upon that Grigory Gryre would be the nominal host and cheif negotiator of the summit, empowered with the authority of the King. He'd decided that to make things easier for the diplomats, he'd assign them a member of the House of Lords to act as a liason and tour guide. He'd selected members based that he felt were fairly smart, without knowing too much.

For the delegates from Ferris, he'd chosen a younger cousin of his, Frederick Gryre. Young Frederick had served in the army in the last days of the war, and his star was very much ascendant, mostly thanks to the Grigory, though other members of the House worked the beaurocracy to their benefit. He had been considered a striking man before the war; his features firm and rugged, though now a terrible network of scars covered his left cheek and neck from where a shell had hurled shrapnel in his face. A pity, really, but not one that had prevented him from pursuing a career in politics. This assignment was ment to test him, to see how he handled

For the delegates from the Hack, he'd selected the woman Madeline von Till, a paticularly attractive woman in her mid thirties who held her seat by virtue of her family, though Grigory knew that it would only be a generation of two until the von Tills fell from the ranks of the Upper Lords. The best members of their family had joined the service during the War like all of the sons of the great noble houses, but unfortunately few of them had come back. The loss was grevious, and even the von Tills knew they would have a hard time ahead.

And lastly, for the C'tan emperor, he'd selected the other only woman who sat in the Upper House; Cai Alessandro, a small, lithe, wisp of woman who'd married the widower Anton Alessandro. He'd happened to be the last of his House, as the rest had been lost during the War. The marriage had been strictly political; old Lord Alessandro had been nearly seventy; but he was almost bankrupt, and would have been forced to sell his extensive property in order to pay off his debts. Miss Yuen, as she'd been known when she was first introduced, was apparently very wealthy but lacked land or the ability to purchase it. Anton had taken to her beauty almost immedietly (not unlike most of the court) and they'd wed after a few months of courting. But Anton had died of heart failure not a year after their marriage, leaving Cai as the sole inheritor of the large northern estate.

After the delegates had arrived, they were escorted to the Imperial Estate outside of Ouranberg. The Estate stood apart from it's surroundings, and was surrounded by a thick concrete wall. With little ceremony, they were met by their host, who after introducing themselve promptly escorted them to their quarters in the guest wing of the palace and informed them that the summit would start tomorrow.

(This now be a closed RP. Cheers.)

Ther very nature of the Oligarchy occationally lended itself to strange dicotomies. Frequently people had personal fortunes that they used to aquire the latest and greatest of technologies; silly, pointless toys who's functionality was quite questionable. Official government expendatures, on the other hand, tumbled headlong into the excessively sparten. As such, the delegation from the Hack arrived in a wholly unremarkable Lear jet.

Erich Larson was dressed in an immaculate, hand-tailored suit that cost more than many people would earn in a life time. He carried a soft leather attache case in his thin hand. He was a tall rail of a man, and a pair delacate glasses were perched on the end on his long nose. He looked like the kind of man who made his living destroying competitors, which is exactly what he was.

Tina Edwards was likewise dressed in a hand made dress that hugged her form just enough to titilate the eye while not really revealing a single thing. She had the look of someone who spent most of her time in a lab, which was quite accurate. She didn't look anywhere near as feral as Erich, but she was a woman on a mission. She also looked ready to shoot the first person willing to make a joke about her representing the Hack's premier arms industry.

Mia Wilkens, on the other hand, looked completely out of place standing next to the two powerbrokers. She wore a simple business suit that was a couple years out of fashion. She further stood out by the very nature of her being a Nekoite: soft black fur covered her forearms and hands and her legs, and, presumably, her feet. A pair of small black ears poked out from the top of her head, blending in with her flowing black hair. Her suit had been modified to accomidate her cat tail. Finally, she also had red eyes, designating that while the frialest looking delegate, she could probably toss them over the jet. She was also, by far, the most friendly looking of the three.

Mia smiled cheerfully as Madeline moved to meet them, "Heya! I'm Mia Wilkens, Mr. Dour is Erich Larson, and the rather serious woman to my left is Tina Edwards." She grinned, her eyes sparkling playfully, she clearly enjoyed teasing her fellow delegates, "We're thrilled to be here."

Now that's not something you see every day...

Madeline was a little suprised with the trio she'd been assigned; inwardly she was surpsied she'd been seleceted by Minister Gryre at all, but she certainly didn't show it. Pulling her dark hair back out of her eyes, she adjusted her thin glasses and smiled as she stood waiting. Her suit was fairly simple, but it hugged her figure in just the right ways in just the right places. Nervously she licked her lips as the foreign delgates arrived, finally.

Smiling the whole time, she bowed politely as Mia introduced them all, even though they all likely knew each other's names.

"It's my honour to have you, Mia. Please, come, I'll show you to your rooms. You all must be very tired after your flight..."

Falling in amongst them, she lead the way to the guest wing of the palace. The walk itself took nearly ten minutes as they wound their way through several spotless marble halls, some carpeted with with lush red throws, others left bare to display the extraordinary material that'd been used to build them. Priceless marble statues and paintings of long-dead nobles and rulers lined a few halls, along with other works of art. Madeline was quick to explain to them who each important figure was, and why their portrait or bust stood in these halls. The route had been carefully planned, of course, in order to show off some aspects of Altairnian culture.

Eventually they crossed into a small grass coutyard, onto which the three suites looked. The soft tinkling of water could be heard in amongst the foilage of the courtyard, thanks to the hidden fountains that had been built into the corners.

"Please, this area has been set aside for you," Madeline said, gesturing to the small yard and the three doorways which they hadn't come through. "Feel free to make yourselves at home." She stopped as she turned to leave, as if remembering something. "If you need anything, use these." From her pocket, she produced three thin cylinders, long enough to fit in one's palm, and handed them out. "The call buttons will alert the household staff to your needs. And if you have any questions, I will be available whenever you need me. Welcome to Altairnia."

Sebastian rubbed blearily at his eyes as the car carrying them rumbled through farms and parkland outside Ouranberg, the high walls of the Imperial Estate appearing in the distance from behind the trees.

Beside him, Avery looked entirely too chipper for someone who'd sat through a twenty-hour flight; but then, she'd slept quite soundly on the plane. Every time he'd woken during the night, Sebastian had found her still fast asleep.

Her Army khakis bore a suprising number of medals for a mere tank commander; seemingly she'd participated in every offensive in the latest reconquest of Kellmark. Granted, the Caliburn super-heavy was no "mere" tank, but it was still an oddly low position, given that experience. Maybe she couldn't be trusted with anything higher - Sebastian had his doubts about entrusting her with diplomatic duties, after all. Avery was highly focused, but not on diplomacy.

The car stopped inside the walls of the Estate, and Sebastian climbed out. He offered his hand to Avery, but she bounced out cheerfully on her own.

Damn you, brother, what have you saddled me with?

The official awaiting them looked only half so ravaged as Sebastian himself; but then the Altairnian civil war had dragged on continuously for nearly as long as the periods of fighting in Ferris' long and intermittent war with Kellmark. Sebastian recognised a military bearing when he saw one - as, apparently, did Avery. The young woman was actually standing to attention.

"Good afternoon," Sebastian said, extending his hand to the other man. "I am Sebastian Grey, emissary of his Most August Majesty in Ferris, and this is Avery Aisling Valerian-Reed, a scion of the House Valerian."

Avery gave him a jaunty salute and a rather saucy wink.

Erich and Tina nodded simply, more interested in getting to the conferance as opposed to Mia who was far more interested in the people and the country. She nodded a little at Madeline's comment, "Oh yes. I could just about kill for a nice shower and a nap."

On the path to their rooms, Mia frequently asked questions about this sculpture or that column or anything else mildly interesting. What's more, she seemed to actually remember what she was being told, as opposed to simply asking to be polite.

When they arrived to their area, Erich finally spoke up. He had a smooth, calming voice which was quite a contrast to his current mood, "Excuse me, Lady von Till, but when will the converance be starting? I'd like to know how much time I have for preparations."

Mia rolled her eyes behind his back, grinning a little as she went into her room, waving to Madeline, but not waiting for her answer. She didn't really have much to prepare for anyway.

Frederick could hardly contain his smile as he greeted the two diplomats. Both had the looks of soldiers about them, though the man, Sebastian he'd been told, looked as though he'd faired worse. "Greetings, and welcome to Altairnia," he said with his crooked smile as he shook Sebastian's hand. "I am Lord Frederick Gryre, and I'll be your host while you're with us. Please come with my, and I'll show you to your apartment wing."

Much like Madeline early in the day, he led the group through the impressive palace, though his limp slowed the tour down a little. He ended the tour by taking them down a pillared concourse lined with apartments. "This section," he said, indicating the western half, "Has been set aside for you and your men. Do please make yourself at home." Without the feigned forgetfulness that Madeline had displayed, he presented the pair with the simple call buttons. "The show should be getting started tomorrow evening with a small reception, with our first meeting coming the next morning. Is that agreeable?"

(Assume information is repeated by Madeline. Sorry for the brevity, been busy this week. More to come when it happens.)

"Most agreeable," Sebastian said, pocketing the call button. "How very ingenious! It works by radio, I assume? But we have no servants with us - it was not thought necessary. I am sure the services of the Imperial staff shall be more than sufficient."

The Imperial staff were certainly sufficient in shifting Sebastian's few suitcases from the car to the apartments, although Avery's profusion of cases strained even their capacity.

Is she planning to move in permanently? Sebastian wondered. How can one woman possibly wear that many clothes in the time we have?

The cases disappeared into the room next door. "If you need me," Avery told him, "I'll be right over here."

Sebastian groaned inwardly. It was definitely going to be a long trip.

OOC: Apologies for the brevity here too, and the delay.

Despite the rather stark differences between the business reps and the Oligarchy's rep, they all did roughly the exact same things. All three pulled small electronic bug sensors from their bags and scanned their rooms. All three called their superiors using satellite phones. All three phone calls were brief and to the point; Mia lingered a little longer while talking to Elisa, but she didn't sit around chatting. All three then unpacked their clothes and padded about the room, familiarizing themselves.

At this point, the differences set in. Erich and Tina stayed in their rooms, going over proto-contracts and other work-related papers and things. Mia opted for doing a little bit of exploring, after first changing into a much less formal, and much looser outfit. They passed the time in their own way, ready to get started the next evening.

If you want to skip to the dinner the next night, that's fine. Unless we want a slight detour of Mia randomly exploring before said dinner.

She'd been spotted leaving her apartments a little while after they'd been settled. The vigilent guards had been the first to see her. Normal custom was rather strict in that guests were not allowed to leave their housing alone, but Valdim knew that his customs would not be theirs, and had anticipated this.

It only took Madeline a few minutes to find her wandering down an sun-lit hall, just gazing at the paintings as the sounds of heavily booted feet marching in time came from just beyond the end wall.

Mia, naturally, would stand out even if the hall had been packed. Elves had been known to exist in Altairnia; some had even visited during the confirmation of Valdim. But she was no elf. She wasn't the pale shade of blue like they were, and her ears were upright and fuzzy, not long and swept back. And none of them had tails. But she she seemed nice enough.

"Aha, I thought I'd find you here..." Madeline said as she approached, bringing the curious cat out of her reverie. "You know normal cutom forbids the guest from leaving the appointed quarters of the host without an escort..." she smiled.

"But..."

"But I'm sure you didn't know that, of course," she cut her off perfectly, her smile never wavering. "Which is why you probably havn't been shot by the guards yet. A good sign. Come, since you're curious, let me show you around."

Mia casually strolled around, a little surprized at the lack of people, but figured it was just a case of familiarity. Tindalos had many wonderful museums, but she never went to them; people tended not to bother looking at works of art when they could look at them whenever they wanted.

Her ears swiveled a little as she heard the boots, but she paid little attention to them, fascinated at the painting she was standing in front of. It seemed to depict a rather stirring battle scene, possibly something from the nation's history, or even the most recent civil war. The artist had done a remarkable job of capturing the humanity of the people involved and she shook her head sadly.

She was about to move to the next painting when Madeline walked up. She blushed as the situation was explained to her, "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry. I didn't mean to cause any problems." Her tail flicked slightly and her ears dropped a little, the feline blood in her making itself known.

She mewed softly at Madeline's offer, nodding happily, "A guide would be wonderful." She paused, "I'm not taking you away from something important, am I?"

Madeline grined, quite amazed by just how cute this little cat-girl-thing was. "Oh no, of coruse not. I'm here to help you while you're with us, after all." She was still smiling as she took Mia's hand, and led her on down the hall. "I can see that you were quite taken with that paticular painting. If I'm not mistaken, it was a rendition of the loyalist's defeat at the battle of Celbr, which took place more then thirty years ago."

They paused as they left the hall, and turned to look out the window that overlooked the marshalling grounds. That's where the marching had come from; the heavily armoured trodding of the Legios Praetorius on their afternoon drills. They were in full battle gear, though thankfully no firing exersizes had been schedualed. After a quick glance down at the massivly armoured warriors, they walked on. "Now, maybe you'll be interested in the library..."

Mia smiled, "Always been a bit of a history buff... especially military history. It's beautiful and tragic at the same time." She walked with Madeline, her curiosity cause them to stop occationally as she asked questions about almost everything they walked past. She seemed genuinely curious too, as opposed to simply being polite.

She nodded at the mention of the library, "Oh, that sounds nice." She grinned, "Might be able to look up that battle, hmm?"

Avery had sat on the bed and watched as the Imperial servants unpacked her luggage. They were swift, efficient, and to their credit, raised nary an eyebrow at the more scandalous items of her wardrobe - although they were sure to comment later, out of earshot. Avery didn't mind that at all. Her reputation was finely honed.

Once they'd departed, and she'd exchanged her dress uniform for a more comfortable shirt and trousers, she lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Left without anything to do she bored easily - at the barracks there was always something needing doing, and her apartments in Redforge were cluttered with eclectic items from across the Iron Domain and the Marchlands to occupy her attention, but neither her tank nor the contents of her apartment were here in Ouranberg.

At a loss for what else to do, she left the apartment. Peering in upon Sebastian yielded zero results; the diplomat had his nose buried in a book, and didn't seem to notice her in the slightest. Avery wandered on through the palace corridors, looking into rooms and courtyards with much the same air as a cat.

As the door to the library was closing, Mia blinked and poked her head back out, noticing Avery wandering about, looking much as Mia had ealier: lost, bored and curious. She smiled and wave Avery over, not wanding the other diplomat to get in trouble.

Wandering along one sunlit corridor, Avery spotted a closing door open again, and someone stepped out. Said someone waved and smiled, and Avery, grateful to see someone friendly in the warrens of the palace, headed over.

She discreetly appraised the stranger; she wore a loose, casual blouse and pants, and odd ... gloves? It took Avery a moment to realise that what she'd mistaken for gloves was in fact natural hair ... fur? She had furry ears, too, sticking out like a cat's. Avery had spent time with the Krismen* battalions during the war in Kellmark, and so was no stranger to the odd variant subspecies that humanity popped up, but she'd never seen anything like this.

"Hi!" she said, extending a hand, "I'm Avery. Avery Aisling Valerian-Reed. Pleased to meetcha."

OOC: *Krismen; a human subspecies (Homo sapiens deserta) native to Ferris, adapted to the desert conditions.

To: King Valdim (Email Unknown/Hidden)
From: Prince Rufus Mew III (PrinceRMew3@Gnufasur.gov)
Subject: Congratulation is Due.

Greetings and salutations. I am, Prince Rufus Mew, of the Separtist Nation of Gnufasur. I am gladden to hear of this news within your nation, and am willing to lend the aid of my nation to your people. Weither it be food, medical aid, soldiers, or raw material.
All I would ask for in return is the friendship between your people and mine.

May long life and Good health be yours always.

-Prince Rufus Mew III

((OOC: I saw that this is a closed RP now. Oh well. Guess I won't be sending anyone. >_> Well, still felt that it'd be nice to ICly respond, at least. Take care.))

The 'shuttle port,' as it was, was little more then a slab of concrete, deemed solid enough to hold the weight of whatever it was that was supposed to land on it. It was near the Estate, and it was only a short drive to the visitor's wing, where delegate would meet host.

Mephet'ran seemed rather surprised by the person the Altairnians had chosen to be his liason. Indeed, that was quite the understatement. He was shocked.

Cai Alessandro, on the other hand, couldn't help but laugh inwardly as she watched him walk up the shallow steps of the Estate, towards her and her greeting party. "Lord Mephet'ran of the C'tan, I presume?" she asked, bowing slightly as he approached.

"Indeed," he said, "And you no doubt, are Lady Cai?"

She nodded, being careful to avoid protracted eye contact. "Indeed. It is my honour to act as your personal host on behald of the King while you stay here in Altairnia. Please, if you come with me, I will get you settled into your quarters, and show you some of the palace."

Mephet smiled, "Certainly," he says, following her. He seemed to be waiting until they where able to speak privately before continuing.

They take a twisting route through the palace, passing many of the same art pieces that had been shown to the other delegates. Eventually they find their way to an enclosed marble terrace, overlooking a large fountain that takes up much of the courtyard it occupies. "Ah, here we are my lord. This area has been set aside for you and your staff. If there's anything you need," she produces the slim cylindrical call button from her pocket, "Don't hesitate to use it."

"Well, there is one thing I'd like," he said.

Cai nods, and smiles genteely. "And what would that be?"

"An explanation of what you've been up to."

She raised an eyebrow, feigning suprise. "Perhaps your lordship would like to talk in private?" she asked, since they were all still standing on the terrace.

"Yes," he said, gesturing for her to lead on.

Cai dismissed the small cluster of functionaries that had been accompanying her, and lead Mephet into the apartment that had been provided for him.
He smiled rather reassuringly as she closed the door, "I don't blame you by the way..."

Her shoulders slumping, she sat down on the couch, smiled weakly and avoided his gaze. "For what?"

"For dissolving the government of one of my protectorates and skipping off into hiding."

That brought a little more genuine of a grin to her face. "Oh, that."

"Yes. Like I said, I don't blame you. But an explanation of what you've been up to since would be nice."

"Well, just as you said, I was hiding." He laughed, "And?"

"Oh, nothing much more then that. I had a nice home in the country, on a lake even. I buried Miiko on the shore of that lake when she died, you know, even though I never even bothered to learn it's name."

Mephet seemed suddenly saddened. She was the first of his present aquaintances to die, "I am sorry," he said.

She just smiled knowingly, and stood. "Don't be. We mere mortals have a limited shelf life.."

"Humm. And when did you come here?"

"Perhaps six years ago now... I hardly ever keep track of time anymore. I'm not entirely sure how I ended up here, but I met this most fascinating man, Lord Anton Alessandro..." He just nodded for her to continue, intrigued.

"Well, he was the last of what was apparently a very prestigious noble house here. But his family's wealth was failing. We both found what we needed in each other, and we were married within a month of my arrival. It was strictly political, though he was a kind and generous man."

"And he's died too?" Mephet asked.

"Yes, it's rather unfortunate. The cancer he had was apparently treatable, but he never knew about it untill it was too late... as his widow I inherited his title and estate near the Shadowglen."

"I see," he said with a frown.

Cai sighed, clearly wanting to change the subject, "I seem to have the misfortune of being a close friend of death. It's long since ceased bothering me. But you didn't come all this way just to talk about me, did you?"

"Had I known you were here I would have. But no. I really came for the reasons I stated."

"Of course. I would be foolish to have thought otherwise," she deadpanned.

"I'm far to deceitful to lie!" he laughed.

"Indeed... Well, perhaps I'd better go. I was just as shocked as you to have seen you arrive in that car, you know. But there'll be a dinner tomorrow... we can talk more then, about some things.."

"Very well," he says, standing.

Darting after her before she quite had the chance to get out the door, Mephet caught her hand, and bent low to kiss the back of it, as seems to be the local custom, "Until tomorrow then. Goodbye Kestrel."

Mia happily took Avery's hand, shaking as she pulled the human woman fully into the library. The fur on her hands was short and soft, much like a cat's. She smiled happily, the faintest hint of a purr just barely audible if one was paying attention. "I'm Mia, and this is Madeline." She lowered her voice to conspiratorial levels, giving Madeline a quick wink as she whispered to Avery, "Don't want to wander on your own... they're big on escorts."

She grinned and pulled on Avery's arm until the three of them were wandering the library, Mia bombarding Avery with questions about her life, her job, and most anything else she could think of.

"Hello, Madeline," Avery said, transferring her hand to the Altairnian woman. "You're our escort, then? I trust you'll keep us out of trouble."

Avery was more than happy to answer questions about herself, and proceeded to tell Mia of her childhood in the House Valerian citadel of Redforge, her ignoble entry into the military at nineteen (after certain indiscretions surfaced among the nobility, forcing Lord Severus to shuffle her aside as soon as possible), and the contortions the Lord Valerian had had to undertake to keep her there (after certain indiscretions surfaced among the military).

She gave them a brief account of her war service, most of it in the campaign West to Kellburg (before the Air Force had nuked it) and the subsequent rout of the Army of Free Kellmark, when she'd been promoted to command of a Caliburn tank (what the Army officially called a "special assault vehicle" and Avery called a "bloody big tank").

When the latest bout of fighting was over, she'd returned to Redforge, perpetrating a series of minor scandals until Lord Severus packed her off to Altairnia - to keep her out of trouble, she assumed. She grinned at that, and winked at Madeline.

Mia's purr intensified a little as Avery discussed her "indiscretions" in lurid detail. She blushed slightly as she realised the purr was not only audible but that the two women she was standing with were probably not used to hearing people purr. She smiled sheepishly, focusing her questions on Avery's non-racey military history. She was especially interested in the "bloody big tank", confessing to being something of a military history buff. Certainly an oddity in someone from the Hack.

"The Caliburn," Avery explained, "Is the biggest tank we have - it's several thousand tons heavier than the Excalibur, which is our second-heaviest. I commanded one on the campaign West - an Excalibur, that is - and they gave me a Caliburn when we were flushing out the AFK. Three turrets, one primary, two secondaries on the front.

"The Army calls it a "special assault vehicle" because they originally bought the plans off a bunch of dirty commies and were too embarrassed to admit that our best armour came from people who thought a peasant revolution is a good thing. But that was over a century ago - since then it's been modified for better fuel efficiency, armour, phlostigon tanks so it can move faster than a crippled snail, things like that.

"My radio operator named it the Iron Maiden, and I posed for the turret art. On all three turrets, that is. And my chief engineer got onto the left fore turret as well. There's a smiley face painted on the glacis plate, too."

Madeline listened rather intently to Avery as well, though she couldn't be said to have been purring over the details. The talk of the Caliburn and the wars of Ferris gave Madeline a bit of pause. She was no stranger to war, as the Long War had raged for the entirety of her life untill last year, but it had claimed her family and talk of war certainly made her uncomfortable. So she tried to change the subject. "Well ladies, perhaps instead of just standing around here, you'd like to sit? Maybe have a drink?" She paused, and gave Avery a little grin, "And we can always arrange for an alternate form of entertainment, if that suits you..."

"Certainly." Avery smiled back at Madeline. "I could use a drink - what about you, Mia?" At Madeline's mention of "alternate entertainment", that smile grew into a wicked grin - quickly supressed into almost childlike innocense. Who, me? Wicked thoughts? Never.

"We can talk about that further," she replied, "Over drinks."

OOC: Yes, Avery is very single-minded indeed.

Mia's ears dropped slightly as she saw Madeline's reaction to Avery's stories, feeling bad about brining up military history in a nation that had just finished a long, destructive war. She was so busy mentally kicking herself when she heard Madeline's closing remark. She quickly smiled, her purr returning as she bobbed her head happily, "Well, we're not doing anything until tomorrow night anyway. I suppose a few drinks couldn't hurt..." She smiled with fake innocence, "Should warn you... I'm a total lightweight..."

Avery couldn't prevent the return of that mischevious grin at that. She'd been known to drink Krismen under the table on occasion (although she'd felt like hell the following morning), and that species was renowned for their iron constitutions, but there was a different sort of fun involved in drinking with someone a good deal lighter (and especially when that someone was cute and interesting).

The befurred woman was purring, Avery realised - definitely interesting. How does she do it, I wonder? I wouldn't mind that trick myself.

"I'll be sure to remember that," she replied.

Elsewhere in the palace, Sebastian put down his book as a half-dozen muscles down his left side cramped violently.

Must be going to rain, he thought. If this is God's way of warning me that something's going to happen, it had better be a nuclear explosion.

The rest of the ladies' evening whirled by in a blur, the drinks flowing continously, until one of them (Madeline couldn't remember who, but upon retrospect she suspected Avery) suggested they go to bed. She didn't seem to remember who decided that ment the same bed, together, but after waking up with Mia nuzzled up and purring against her on one side, and Avery resting her head on her shoulder on the other side, the thought that this was somehow bad didn't even cross Madeline's mind. After all, she had been charged with making sure the guests enjoyed themselves, and left with a positive view of Altairnia and it's people. She figured she was just doing her job.

---

In the other wing of the Estate, Frederick wasn't doing so well. He'd always had lung problems since his injury, and it seemed to be getting worse. He'd been short of breath after leaving the Ferrisians, and as she stumbled into the dwelling he'd be granted for the length of the summit late that night, he was coughing and weezing non-stop. After he collaped onto his bed, he weakly thumbed the call button for the household servants to attend him.

They found him passed out, hardly breathing. He was quickly and quietly rushed to the infirmary, where it was determined that not only were his lungs filling up with fluid, his heart was starting to fail as well. They estimated he had maybe a day to live, and whisked him off to the general hospital. There, he could be kept alive, untill the King could be consulted about what should be done with him...

Mia yawned and stretched as only a feline could do. She purred happily as her eyes focused and she saw Avery and Madeline. Grinning a little to herself, she snuggled Madeline some more, licking her cheek, "Morning, cutie."

She couldn't help but grin, wondering who had corrupted whom, but not much caring. From Avery's actions last night, and Madeline's blasé reaction, she could only assume there hadn't been much by way of corruption at all. She propped herself up on her elbow and looked around Madeline's room. She hadn't much cared about it earlier, so she took the time to observe now. It was pretty nice, nicer than her own room, in fact. She giggled softly, deciding the scattered clothing only added to its ambiance. Licking her lips a little she looked back at Madeline, "So... what's on the itinerary for today?"

"Mmph!"

Avery came to sudden wakefulness as Madeline moved, and was rolling out of bed with practiced ease immediately. "Ready, sir! ... oh."

She looked down at the bed and the figures on it, recalling now where she'd spent the night (and what she'd spent it doing).

"Thought I was back home for a moment there," she grinned, and sat down again. "What wonders have you planned for us today, O friendly native guide?"

---

Meanwhile, Sebastian was rising at a more leisurely pace, carefully shaving the stubble from his cheeks - the scar tissue there made it difficult, but he'd look even more horrible with patches of beard growing around it, and if he was representing the Iron Domain - even if he was representing his accursed brother - he had to look his best.

Despite - or possibly because of - the injuries he'd sustained in it's service, Sebastian believed in Ferris as few people did. Few people really believed in God, either; they went through the motions, but that was social pressure with no real piety involved. Alone, Sebastian traced the circle on his chest, and recited his prayers - he at least needed no watching crowd. God, after all, was always watching.