NationStates Jolt Archive

René Faucon stared wistfully at the Peacock Airlines 747 as it taxied towards him on the runway at Tarana's international airport. The terrorist attack on the Danaan embassy in New Rome and then on Danaan territory itself required Pantocratoria to do everything possible to improve relations with the Resurgent Dream, and the corrupt old union boss no longer seemed like the appropriate ambassador to the Danaan government. He didn't mind being recalled, really - he just hoped that he wasn't returning to New Rome only to find corruption charges had been brought against him. He had heard rumours that his name was in a certain Excalbian intelligence dossier, and was too nervous about that to be particularly upset at having to leave the Resurgent Dream, which he had certainly found a pleasant enough country. The people were so cultured and exotic. His short stay had been quite delightful. It just hadn't been... ambassador quality.

On board the plane, Princess Marie was being attended to by her handmaidens. She let out a short gasp of pain as one of the handmaidens finished tightening the corset of her lavishly embroidered formal gown. Another made the final adjustments to her gorgeous dark hair, which was worn up, and allowed to fall about on the sides of her fair-skinned face in a complicated style of hanging curls - a style which had been in fashion in the Imperial Court of Christ Pantocrator for two hundred and thirty two years and showed no signs of being superseded. She wore very little make-up, but enough to cover any small imperfections and to best complement her naturally pretty face. When they were done, she nervously looked in the mirror to check that everything was in place.

"I'm sure you'll make a wonderful impression, mademoiselle." said one of the handmaidens to reassure the Princess.

"I'm sure that Her Highness was exaggerating about these red cap creatures." added another, referring to Irene's advice.

Princess Irene had taken a perverse delight in trying to terrify Marie about what awaited her in the Danaan High Kingdom. She hadn't believed it, but now, just about to set foot on foreign soil for the first time in her life, away from her family for the first time in her life, she was suddenly scared. Having just escaped her gilded cage, Marie was already desperate to get back inside it, where everything was expected and familiar. Where all the decisions were made for her. She calmed herself by controlling her breathing - not that her breathing could get too out of control in her cruelly tight corset - and then realised how absurd those thoughts were. Steeled by her new determination to prove herself an intelligent, capable young woman in her own right, to escape her sheltered upbringing, she decided she was ready to go outside.

The plane door opened, and Princess Marie stepped out onto the steps, setting her eyes on foreign soil for the first time in her life.

Arnot-Marie Bouchard stood on the tarmac, dressed in a black, designer suit. He approached the princess and bowed chivalrously. "Your Highness." he said, speaking in perfect French with a Parisian accent. If she offered her hand, he took it, bowed over it, and gently kissed directly above the skin, making no direct contact with the back of her hand. If not, he was hardly so presumptive as to offer his hand to a lady when she did not offer hers. "My name is Arnot-Marie Bouchard. It is my honor as well as my duty to present Your Highness to Her Majesty and then to escort Your Highness to the Pantocratorian embassy."

Behind Bouchard stood a company of the Royal Guard. All were in full dress uniform, perfectly ironed, perfectly worn, and perfectly polished. The sun could be seen shining brightly off their boots, belt buckles, and cufflinks. Among the humans, trolls, sidhe, and a smattering of other races, there was at least one redcap, standing at attention as properly as the rest, despite his rather ugly and scary face. As Bouchard watched with Marie, the Royal Guard presented both Danaan and Pantocratorian colors before parting ranks and standing at attention to either side of Bouchard and Marie, clearing the way to the limousines.

There was a small fleet of three limousines, flying small Pantocratorian flags on the hoods. Two Danaan police rode motorcycles at the front of the fleet and two more at the back. A red blazered chauffeur opened the door to the middle limousine for Marie and Bouchard and Bouchard politely helped the lady in before climbing inside himself.

Marie offered her hand to Bouchard and was impressed by his accent. Her eyes passed over the assembled guards, arrayed from all different species in their dress uniforms. It was a new experience to see so many non-humans together in one place. René Faucon stepped forward to greet her.

"Your Highness," he said, with an unpractised bow. "It is my privilege to surrender to you my letters of appointment and recommendation, and to wish Your Highness the very best of luck in your appointment to Tarana as His Majesty's ambassador."

He handed her his formal letters, which she accepted graciously, and then surrendered in turn to her ambassadorial aide following closely behind her.

"With Your Highness' gracious leave." Faucon said, bowing again, before embarking the very same Peacock Airlines flight on which Marie had arrived. After taking on-board passengers, it would soon depart once again for New Rome.

"It would be my pleasure to be presented to Her Majesty by you, Monsieur Bouchard. Please lead on." Marie said to Bouchard.

Bouchard smiled, getting in after Princess Marie. The chauffeur closed the door behind them. As the limousines began to move, Bouchard smiled. "Is this your first time in the Danaan High Kingdom, Your Highness?"

"It is my first time out of Pantocratoria at all, monsieur." she replied, nodding. She smiled. "I don't quite know what to expect."

She glanced out the window as the limousine moved through Tarana, catching glimpses of life in the Resurgent Dream, and occassionally asking questions about the different peoples of the Danaan High Kingdom, about the buildings she saw as the car passed, and so on.

Marie was driven through the vast city of Tarana. In the distance, she could see the Old City, the Marble City. It seemed to shine a pearly white as the sun reflected off the high, marble walls. It was there that the limousines headed and the chauffeur allowed Princess Marie out.

Bouchard got out after her, profferring his arm to the princess. He walked her up a flight of steps and, as she moved into the Old City of Tarana, Marie could see that the entire thing was ornately carved from one single, giant piece of shining marble over what must have been centuries. He walked her past the government buildings and the courts and the temple, guiding her into the towering palace itself.

The great hall was a huge room, marble of course, with classical pillars carved of one piece with the room itself. Courtiers of all sorts filled the room: Elegant sidhe, stately trolls, orderly humans, gossiping boggans, and many others. On a marble throne set in the far wall sat High Queen Agwene, dressed in a gossamer gown of verdent green, ever dancing with patterns of light and shadow. On her head sat the golden crown of the kingdom, beset with brilliant emeralds.

Marie approached the throne, holding her chin up but keeping her gaze lowered in deference as was the proper behaviour in New Rome. She stopped at the appropriate distance from it, and curtseyed in a well-practised display of courtesy, holding her official papers and letter of recommendation from the Emperor. She remained curtseying, perfectly still, waiting for her papers to be taken from her and inspected, and to be allowed to speak.

The Chamberlain took her papers with a bow. Agwene inclined her head. "Welcome to the Resurgent Dream, Princess. You may speak freely, of course."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Princess Marie replied, rising. She allowed her gaze to meet Agwene's as she addressed her. "It is my privilege and most sincere pleasure to be His Most Catholic and Imperial Majesty's ambassador extraordinary to the Danaan High Kingdom, and it is my joyful task to convey to Your Majesty the esteem His Majesty holds for you, and His Majesty's sincere desire to make himself a true friend of Your Majesty. It is also my melancholy duty to express His Majesty's condolences on your horrific loss. The thoughts and prayers of Pantocratoria go out to you."

"If it pleases Your Majesty," she continued. "I am His Majesty's niece, your most humble servant, Marie."

Agwene faintly inclined her head once more, smiling gently. "It most certainly does please us, Princess Marie. How have your found our nation so far?"

"I've hardly seen any of it, Your Majesty," Marie replied. "But everything seems very different. And the Marble City, as Monsieur Bouchard called it, is breath-taking. I look forward to seeing much more of it."

Agwene smiled lightly. "We thank you for your compliments. Is there anything which Your Highness wishes to address?"

"Anything that Your Majesty wishes to address, naturally." Marie replied, wondering nervously whether she had forgotten to say anything. Was there some custom she had forgotten?

Agwene smiled. "There is nothing in particular which I feel the need to address with you at this time. You are, of course, welcome to attend the rest of court, though you are also free to return to your embassy should you so desire."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Marie said, returning the High Queen's smile. She curtsied and backed away from the throne, not daring to show her back to a monarch as she retreated to an appropriate distance. She elected to remain at court for the time being, planning to retire to the embassy later.