NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: Time context notice to avoid confusion, for this thread happens:
*A month or so after Sweet Sixteen: Empress Aurora's Birthday Party (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=403337&page=1)
*During the Midnight at Noon (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=349062&page=1) (reading of the thread advised to learn various important happenings throughout the six or seven or whatever years of the Ruling Council's rule)
*During the A Strengthening of Ties (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=375349&page=1), precisely the day following this post (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=8735521&postcount=53) (reading of the thread advised to learn the happenings of the night before the press conference)
*During the And their Minds cried as one (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=341769&page=1)
*After the A Country Party (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=8761935) ]

***

Capital City of Vigvar

Everything was calm and peaceful in Vigvar as the rays of the rising sun found their way between the buildings, pushing out the shadows and darkness that reigned over the city during the night. Everywhere, life was awakening as birds sang joyfully among the blooming trees and flowers. It was a fine spring day in the Federation, a messenger of even finer days to come.

And as Vigvar began to wake up, so did the rest of the country, it’s attention immediately focused on the happenings in the capital as the sleepy inhabitants of Amalor, Ekaterinburg, Tin-Vilena rubbed their eyes and blinked in surprise at the pictures coming from the Capital City, where something was mysteriously not as it should have been. The TV reports showed the opened Midday and Midnight gates of the Winter Palace, no Federal blockade the length of the walls as several Alexander Guards walked through the squares in front of the gates, speaking to soldiers and police officers as if no enmity existed between them.

The Grand Duke’s banners were floating proudly above the forts of the gates, next to the flags of the Federation. In the streets, soldiers and police officers were patrolling lazily as the wind battered the blue ribbons on their arms. In some spots of the city, traces of combat could be seen, with bullet impacts on the walls of the buildings. All these little details only added up to the general surprise that was reigning throughout the Federation.

And then, by 10 am of the morning, it came, a special announcement by the Secretariat for Public Relations, issued to all private and public media operating in Tarasovka, be they Taraskovyan or foreign, as well as to the foreign diplomatic representations. The same message was also put up on the various internet sites of the Taraskovyan authorities.

Press invited to a special conference by the Ruling Council.

The Ruling Council of the Taraskovyan Federation hereby cordially invites journalists and accredited persons to assist a special press conference during which shall be revealed motions that will shape the Taraskovyan nation in the future.

The press conference shall take place at the Conference Hall of the Midnight Gates in the Old City of Vigvar, at 15.00 PM local time.

[OOC Notice:

1. As the title says, it is open. I will leave those interested to, well, post their interest and will do the beginning of the conference proper in a coming up post.
2. Yes, if you wish to participate, your journalists/whatever will have the proper accreditation without the need to RP every single bureaucratic detail out. Yes, if you wish so, you can have folks working as foreign journalists in the country before the event, so no need to hastily arrange for a flight to attend the conference.
3. Those who do not have formal diplomatic relations with Tarasovka can state having Consulates and, thus, having consulary 'diplomats' in the nation, should they wish to attend the conference with a diplomat. Just an issue of respecting diplomatic protocols =P
4. Remember that there will be no terrorist attacks, no assassinations and that the event will go peacefully without any incidents, thanks to the ever vigilance of the Kaskad and to the marksmanship of their operatives. As such, if you want to sneak a bomb in, you have chosen the wrong day for that.
5. For those who imagine that the palace gates are just that, then you are in for a surprise. The Vigvar Winter Palace has two gates – the Midnight (south) and Midday (north) ones, each gate actually being a small fort like structure (obviously not a medieval one nor a wild west wooden one) that has guard quarters, stables and other locales, such as Conference Halls.
6. Those who have followed the latest threads will understand immediately. Those who haven’t, well, everything will be revealed in this here thread anyway.

I hope everything was clear enough =) ]

Fhakain Dewshining ran a hand through her golden hair as she entered the press conference. The Elf woman unnecessarily smoothed out her pantsuit as she found her seat. She wasn't sure what this press conference was about but she was fairly sure the events of last night would be seen as good news back home.

It felt like spring in Tarasovka. Of course, it didn't literally ever feel like spring to Dewshining. To someone used to Danaan weather, Tarasovka was freezing and chilly even in the summer. Still, the world felt fresh today. The signs of strife that had been at the Winter Palace were now gone, replaced by open and proud gates.

Of course, whatever had happened had not happened easily. Dewshining had heard the gunfire in the night and had even tried to investigate, though with no luck. Now, she hoped, she would find out just what had been going on.

Martin French had been in a rush ever since word came through that there was a conference being held. He had received word from the Ambassador’s office that he was to attend and get as much information as possible. This was one of the things he hated most about being in the press department of the Embassy, you had to jump without knowing what it was he was jumping for. Still, the Empire would want to be kept informed on anything that Tarasovka was announcing, and it could be something related to the hostilities.

Gathering up his belongings, Martin dashed out of the door, heading for the conference. As he entered the room, he made his way to a chair, barely looking at any of the others, other than to make sure he did not walk into anyone. As he lowered himself into his chair, he dropped a notepad on the floor, and almost lost hold of his recorder. He shook his head, as he bent down to pick it up, before sitting up and placing it carefully in his lap.

With a sigh of relief, he made himself comfortable, and waited for the start of proceedings. His mind began to work through all the things that could be announced today, and then he started to wonder what to have for lunch.

Josef Kibashi sighed, entering, contemplating the past months. With the cataclysm and the subsequent civil war following suit (He disliked the count. It was the third, and the second longer one. Quite a frustrating statistic, considering the peace other nations could enjoy), he had been stranded in Tarasovka, passing time by way of caring for his fiancé (Who was still lying in a hospital, comatose), alcohol, Taraskovyan women (With his fiancé being unavailable, he had to substitute when it came to certain activities) and working as a local journalists, selling his reports to the less xenophobic factions in DA, with mediocre success. Still, with a bit of luck, this would be interesting, at least for him, and as long as it allowed him to buy food, he was satisfied.

He forced his way through the crowd, using some not all that gentle means to eventually arrive at his place, and waited for the big news to come out. He didn't exactly have many questions, but listening was better than nothing, or so he thought.

Consul Mah Sakai had one of the most unstable positions in Her Majesty's Diplomatic Service. When Europolis was still in the hands of the Dutch Democratic Republic, the United Star Empire had established a small consulate and trade legation on the island. Since the transitioning of territorial administration to Vigvar, the position had been something of a terror in the Service.

Relations between the Star Empire and whatever government had stood in Vigvar had never been exactly warm since the two nations had fought on opposite sides in the Knootian Shadow War. True during the last days of the Duchy and the Federation the state of affairs had warmed, but as of late New Koln had proven to be less than fond of the Federal Council and its actions. Although, the Star Empire kept that opinion quietly reserved to its own ranks.

But the announcement of the press conference in Vigvar had drawn Mah out from the safety of the small enclave that lay in the Europolis city sectors near the Knootian military installation. He nods calmly to the Federal officer guarding the entrance to the chamber and begins to look for a seat in the chmaber. His eyes see several other representatives from various nations already present, along with those of the various press services (including a single one from the United Valinon News Network). He drifts through the rows of chairs and draws out his comp-pad, after a few moments of searching he takes an empty seat in near the outer rows of the press section, next to Martin French.

*tag*

On Yagdrassil a few hundred miles south of Taraskova, the passive monitering channels of the biological controll entity Lammas turned their attention to the north

>>LAMMAS - lowercore - transmission intercept and scan compleet.
>>LAMMAS - Reassign all avalible cycles to moniter Taraskovyan media output
>>LAMMAS - Flaged as 'Event 3D_FF' - Cued for update and brodcast to FA personell

Ehtemo Nossë Ostolókë eventhough not a journalist, had insisted on going to the press conference. Not many of the nobles would have rather seen a journalist go. They still think that all nobles are better then journalists. And Ehtemo has taken all the Taraskovyan elves that sought asylum into his lands. So he was quickly excused of all other tasks and quickly transported to Vigvar.

He walked about the room with a presence and looked at mostly everyone gathered there as if they were lower then him, not even worth the simplest of recognition of their existence. To say he acted arrogant was to say the least. He walked over to the edge of the room and picked up one of the corner chairs and set it back down further away from the group of chairs the journalists were massing on. It was quite a symbolic gesture. He sat down on his chair and waited in silence for the press conference to start, looking over all the journalists filling the room.

OOC: Because I know you'll bug me with it TRD. He does seem to like the elves better then say the humans.

Despite the early arrival in the country, they still managed to turn up a little later than expected. The Istolinathian media coverage groups were attempting to get into every nook and cranny of this capital city in order to cover some background information on this nation. One by one, media crews of practically every sort filtered into the venue where the press conference was taking place. It was quite an unusual sight to see casually and formally dressed dark elves alongside similarly dressed elves, khajiit, and humans all from Istolinath – all in good spirits and working as if there was no prejudice between the races.

Camera crews set up at the sides of the conference room, and reporters took their seats. The number of Istolinathian media representatives turning up begged the questions ‘how long has Istolinath had its eyes on what was going on here, and what interests do they have here?’ If Istolinath has been watching, then this would be their first open show of it.

Martin hardly noticed the arrival of Consul Mah Sakai at first, so focused on his preparations was he. But settling back in the seat, everything ready for the off, he finally looked up and almost started as he saw the man beside him. “Oh, I didn’t see you.” He gave the man a smiled. “I’m Martin French, Press Officer for the Tartarian Embassy.”

He would have offered a hand, but they were full, trying to hold his things from falling on the floor. “I wonder what this is all about. Short notice announcements out of the blue just seem foreboding to me.” He shook his head and frowned. “As long as it’s not to tell us all to go home…or something…” He petered out, as he realised he was waffling to a complete stranger.

"Mah Sakai, I serve as the Consul for the United Star Empire of Valinon in Europolis," he takes a few moments and then nods sagely at French's comments.

"Certainly press releases as of late have not been...in the favor of the Federation and its Council. What I cannot fathom is the sudden lack of tensions regarding Federal forces and the Alexander Guards. I believe this whole affair might have something to do with that. Perhaps the Council managed to work out some sort of agreement with the Guard. It would be a boon for them in the realm of public relations that is for sure."

“Following the trouble yesterday evening, I hope they have.” Martin shook his head, letting out a little sigh. “We’ve only been here a few months and had barely arrived before all Hell had broken out. And then the Councillor gets murdered.” He turned and looked at the front of the room to ensure proceedings had not started. “I hope more than anything that this press conference is to tell us everything is back to normal…not that I really know what normal is, like I said, we’ve not been here long.”

He looked down at his lap, and began to arrange some of the items, putting his document case and notebooks on the floor, knowing that he would have time to retrieve them before anything exciting happened.

Vigvar; Russians are also welcome in Russian lands.Taraskovyans are suprisingly similar to Zvarinogradii and vice versa, in they way they act individually everyday, in the language they speak; It was--is comforting. It didn't take long nor much effort for Councilor Myshko Kobakov to feel at home in a foreign land. The architecture took him by complete surprise as it gave him the false notion of knowing where to go because of small details and images he recognized back home. While it wasn't exactly the same, it did a pretty good job at confusing his street smarts with the directions he was given as he was walking towards the venue, the Conference Hall. To matters at hand. He thought, as he entered. The Council, the legislative and executive power of the government in the Councilstate, is made of nobles who are diplomat-mandates; no less. Kobakov was no different, and it was decided long ago that he would be the consulate for Tarasovka. He presented himself as he entered, Myshko was a fine, tall man impeccably and richly dressed. He was broad-shouldered and narrow hipped. High cheekbones and curious, slightly blue eyes gave his face an exotic cast for some, but welcome face for the Taraskovyans.

Relations with Tarasovka were delicate at best for Lavenrunz, and so the Embassy was careful to make sure that all journalists attending had had very thorough security checks by the Ministry of Information, and that they were also up to date. Furthermore, the Security Service detachment checked over their equipment and rented vehicles upon their arrival. The only Lavenrunzian media present were from the Imperial News Service. Christina Bruhl, wearing a cherry red coat with black fur trim that nicely set off her fair hair and blue eyes was going to be the leading correspondant. She was still milking the sympathy for her awful ordeal in Mississippi, though she was regarded with some disdain in social circles. All the satellite linking equipment had been purchased in Terraus, so it was absolutely top of the line.
Theobald Gluck, from the Embassy's Public Affairs Office, was also present, a very presentable young man who was used to giving press conferences and had a sixth sense when it came to damage control.

Silmariel Andunewen a tall green-eyed blonde Vanyarin reporter from Menelmacar, working for the famous, or infamous, depending on your point of view, ISN news agency, found Tarasovka cold. Which wasn't a surprise, as just about everyone found Tarasovka cold. She also made a point of keeping to herself before the confrence, checking her equipment now and then, and otherwise spent her time reading up on the whole place.

Three men and one women entered the Conference Hall of the Midnight Gates together, each looking very different – and indeed they were very different - but still they were bound by a common language. The three were discussing eagerly in Dutch the matters at hand, speculating wildly about what exactly was going on – as anyone who would also speak Dutch would notice.

Up in front, and the oldest, was an argumentative man with round gray eyes and thick, grey wavy hair which was worn in a dignified style. His head with its lightly tanned skin was shaped for television, and his KNN press card would convince anyone who did not know him that Rudolf Rupert was here to report the story as it developed.

Walking next to him was a laid-back woman from the Europolis Gazette. Eefje Barneveld was rather tall - as many ethnic Knootians are- but still managed to be rather thick and was not at all someone you would put on television. Her stubby-fingered hands tightly held on to a recorder and a notebook, while a chewed-off pen resided in her breast pocket..

To her right was a young lad with a hip hairdo and dressed according to the latest Taraskovyan hipster fashions. He wore the press card identifying him as "Game" from the Utro radio station very loosely and seemed only midly interested in the political jests that were being exchanged between the KNN anchor and the Europolis writer.

Far behind them, quietly, strolled a bald cameraman with the equipment needed to capture Rudolfs face in all its glory. He did not say much at all, and seemed not terribly interested at all in what was happening.

Entering the conference hall with the long stride of a wisened old man, Vitharan surveys the hall with a wide glance, taking in the odd mix of ethnicities, and observing the mixed reactions of his foreign collegues.
Considered a bit long in the tooth by his own peoples standards, his many years of diplomatic experience were necessary for a task such as this, as his superiors felt that they could take no chances, seeing as his species reputation wasn't exactly conducive to such relations. Grumbling under his whiskers and idly gnawing on air, as if in deep thought, he moves in for a seat, deliberatly taking several minutes.

The Conference Hall of the Midnight Gates was quite an impressive hall, in size, with high ceilings and tall windows and doors on the sides, letting in the light of the outside and giving a view on the first stretches of the Great Gardens. The foreign and domestic journalists, the foreign diplomats, were greeted by smiling young girls dressed into the outfit of the Winter Palace staff who showed the guests to their places and answered any questions the latter had as to little issues of comfort, smiling politely at anything that was not of their jurisdiction, answering with a short: “You will soon know everything.”

Some officers in combat armours with insignia of the 1st Airborne stood the length of the walls, their shut visors looking over the guests silently as the hall filled steadily. There was a certain mystery in the air about the whole situation, a mystery that would soon become clear to everybody. And when the hour of three in the afternoon came down, the doors next to the tribune from which the Ruling Councilors would speak opened, letting in two Alexander leib-guards in their dark blue armours, covered with cloaks of the same colour, their helmets covering their faces with black visors. Each of the guards took position by a side of the table by which the Councilors would sit as the latter themselves arrived into the room amidst a rather reserved welcome from the Taraskovyan press present at the event, for it was no secret that the Ruling Council had grown quite unpopular with the population throughout the last years.

Ustinov and Voevdov took their seats by the table, leaving an empty chair between them, as Ustinov nodded to an aide-de-camp, signifying that he was ready to start the conference. A silence befell on the hall as the Ruling Councilor leaned in to his microphone to pronounce his speech.

“To begin with, I would like to thank all those who deigned assist the event.” He said with a smile. “The past years have been a very difficult period for our country. Following the Plague and the announced death of our leader, we had to struggle between a common desire for prosperity and individual aims for power as various criminal groups fell into a rage. A rage that triggered many battles, claimed many lives, for we have all witnessed the violence with which various nationalistic organizations, such as the White Legion and the Valinorhíni to name just two, ripped our nation apart.”

He surveyed the attendance for a moment, weighing his next words. “The Ruling Council does not deny its share of responsibility in the troubles that shook our nation, but God knows that we have did all we could to maintain our nation’s glory. We have lost a comrade, Councilor Puchinov, a personal friend and a man respected throughout the country. God rest his soul.” The two Councilors, as well as quite a number of Taraskovyan journalists and officers of the 1st Airborne did the sign of the cross, in the Orthodox way, from right to left as Voevodov took over.

“Indeed, the positions of this Council were weakened in the aftermath of Councilor Puchinov’s death. However, we strived forward in our hefty task, regardless of loss and pain, for we had no right to give up. The fate of the nation depended on our ability to react. I may say proudly that, albeit we committed some mistakes, our abilities allowed to preserve Tarasovka its status as power.”

He surveyed the room slowly, letting a moment of silence fall on the hall, before continuing. “This night, during an emergency meeting of the Ruling Council, it has been decided that a third member join us. Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with pride that I announce you his name, for it is Grand Duke Mikhail, second by name, of Tarasovka.” Before the public had any time to react, a new figure, dressed into a ceremonial blue uniform, entered the room and took his seat between the two Ruling Councilors. As he entered, the officers by the walls saluted him, clacking their heels and bringing their right hand up to their foreheads, before returning to their normal positions. It was, indeed, a man who looked like the late Grand Duke, albeit a little thinner and pale, symptoms often due to extreme fatigue. But even with all that, the man seemed to be full of energy as his eyes shone brightly with joy. He leaned in to the microphone by his seat, addressing the awed attendance.

“First of all, it is me. Secondly, no, I am not dead, just spent several years in what you could call a coma, looked after by the most caring priestesses of Kethala.” He said with a grin as he continued. “The Order has already been informed by me personally of my opinion on such procedures.” He said as the grin faded away from his face for a moment. “And so I owe the nation sincere apologies for my absence, for nothing could really excuse it.” He sighed and shook his head before continuing with a smile again as several hands among the attendance darted up. “I will answer all of your questions concerning the matter after I have said what I have to say. Oh, and rest assured, I am one hundred percent natural, entirely clone-free.”

Finally, the Taraskovyan part of the attendance, at least, came to self with the sudden revelation as erupted into cheers and applause, mixed with laughter. The Grand Duke waved his hands slightly, asking everybody to calm down and continued once calm was restored. “I would like also to thank the Ruling Council of managing to keep the nation together and even to expand our territories more than it was done under any of my ancestors.” A reserved applause went through the room as Mikhail went on.

“However, it is time to relax the strict rule on this nation and go forward, by returning the rights to the People. Moreover, I think it is time Tarasovka finally had a central Constitution that would set the legal basis for the future. As such, the Ruling Council shall propose a general referendum on the new Constitution within a month after this day. To allow for a peaceful votation, we have held talks with the leadership of the various rogue militias who gave their accord to refrain from violent actions. The text of the Constitution is already ready and shall be made publics within hours, I can explain what it is about myself or, if you wish to ask questions yourself, you are welcome to it.” With that, the Grand Duke leaned back in his chair, surveying the room and waiting for questions before continuing…

***

[N.B. OOC: If you wish to jump in from this moment, then you can claim having had somebody in the hall before this post. No problems with fluid timing and stuff.

And now, I have to rush off to college. Which explains why the Grand Duke is not going into a monologue straight away, since I'd have to type it and I don't have the time >_> ]

Kobakov started to feel the sting of his recent wound again. It was a long deep cut running the length of his leg, from below, on the right side, the kneecap down to his ankle. He knew it was his fault, but he wanted to come here before his wound had even healed and his doctors shudder at the thought of saying 'no' to a Councilor. Tarasovka, valuable politically, eh? And culturally. That's still not good enough for a binding diplomatic overture, at least, not yet. The Council is getting ahead of itself by asking. But perhaps it is. Perhaps that would be a very wise move. Consider it, Myshko. To progress, we're going to need more trade partners, more allies. In order to be ahead in the world you have to embrace it, diplomacy has always been a form of power. Perhaps you could hurry the day. However, not now, not for a long time coming. There is still much ado before we see a Councilstate soldier side by side a Taraskovyan marine, defending each other. Good pain. Pain that allows me to concentrate. He reached for his painkillers and took one—two, then put them back in his pocket. Myshko raised his hand, requesting for an audience with the Grand Duke. “Excuse me, will the new Constitution have any detrimental effect on the diplomatic policies and/or doctrines of the Taraskovyan Federation?” Kobakov added, “And of course, before I end my query, I would like to wish you a good and immediate recovery on behalf of the Councilstate. That will be all, thank you."

One of the Istolinathian khajiit manages to beat the other Istolinathian reporters to the post, speaking out over the others, “Ja’viir of the Istolinathian Times. Ja’viir would like to be the first of the Istolinathians here to say that it is good to see that the Grand Duke Mikhail is well and good.”

As soon as the suthay-raht finishes his sentence, the other Istolinathians in the room nod their heads respectfully, each murmuring, “Xa.”

“But Ja’viir digresses. Now that Grand Duke Mikhail is back, what does he hope to accomplish? Ja’viir hears peace and rights through referendums, but does the Grand Duke have any plans beyond this?”

The Grand Ducal smiled at the representative of Zvarinograd as he answered the question. “The new Constitution shall be very detrimental for the policies the Taraskovyan Federation,” he put a certain emphasis on the last word as Ustinov and Voevodov making it seem as if they did not notice, “for, if passed, the Constitution shall reestablish the Grand Duchy. And since I have never been given the chance to abdicate properly, I think it is obvious who will be the Grand Duke.”

Mikhail grinned again as he continued. “The population of the Grand Duchy and the Parliament, should the Constitution be passed, shall have an important place in defining the diplomatic policies of our nation in the future.” With that, he authorized the next guest to ask his question, smiling amusedly as he heard the Khajiit speak.

“Should it be adopted, the process of the implementation of the new Constitution and of the new authorities shall require some time and some reforms. At first, we shall hold elections for a provisional Parliament, whose mandate will be that of two years, so that the legislators can review the current laws and statues and make the needed changes and updates to those that can be updated in the given time. To return to the question of foreign policy, I shall try to make my Government more active in this field, but I cannot guarantee anything for we shall be quite busy with interior events.” The Grand Duke smiled at the journalist from Istolinath. “I hope that answers your question.”

Mah Sakai watches as the reporter from the United Valinon News Network stands slowly.

"Sonia Morgeland, United Valinon News Network, Your Grace. What role will the Ruling Council and its agencies play in the interim period proceeding the elections and in the process of transitioning to the return of the Grand Duchy after you move to formally establish this government?"

"Secondly will this new government be representative of the previous Grand Duchy? Or will it resemble more of a constitutional or federal monarchy in nature?"

Martin French began to scribble frantically as soon as the press conference started. He was noting down the Ruling Councillor’s words, his tape whirring to catch anything he might have missed. He looked up for a moment and stopped in mid-stroke as the other man made himself visible. He blinked a few times, wondering how a dead man was walking. It took a moment before he gathered together his thoughts and grinned finally realising why Angelina was so keen for him to attend, which made him wonder how she knew.

He once more continued to scrawl down the events as they took place, listening intently to the questions being asked and more importantly the answers being given.

Ehtemo remained seated as he spoke up. “Mikhail,” He stated as if speaking to an equal, also not feeling the need to say who he was to the press. ”They will know soon enough.” He thought to himself. “There are many minorities in Tarasovka, elves among them. Over the past time these minority groups have grown more and more distant of each other, leaving a lot of bad feelings between them. What are your thoughts on the issue? Also, I have taken all of the Taraskovyan elven refugees into my lands and am sure they wish to return to their former homes when things have improved.” He said and waited for the duke's anwser.

Mikhail nodded understandingly at the questions posed by the journalist from Valinon, wondering how the hell did he end up in Vigvar in the first place, the poor fellow.

“I think it is obvious that the Ruling Council, meaning me and my two colleagues,” he gave brief glances at Ustinov and Voevodov, “will act as the government, leadership or whatever the way you want to call it of the Federation in the period leading up to the adoption, if any, of the new Constitution. Should it get rejected, then we shall continue to exercise our rule to the time until either an amended version of the text gets adopted, or a whole other text proposed by initiative citizens gets passed.”

“As of the second question, I must remind you that the Grand Duchy, or the High Unity as we still call it in Taraskath, had always been a federal state in nature, with the Fiefdoms or Provinces having autonomy over various matters. The only exceptions were the Provincial Districts in Aphyr that were under direct authority of the Council of Duchy, the previous version of Parliament, but these have been regrouped with Fiefdoms after the Plague. As of whether it will be representative of the past Grand Ducal authorities – not really. Indeed, the Grand Duke will no longer have supreme and absolute powers and will have to share his powers with the Parliament and the People.”

With that, he cleared his throat a little before letting the next person speak, frowning at the arrogance of the foreigner. “Noldo.” Mikhail said, clearly not appreciating the familiarity with which the Taurenori spoke. “I shall remind you that I, as Supreme Lord and Ruler of the Kin, as my title says in Taraskath, will defend and protect all Taraskovyans, whether they be Russians, Poles, Serbs, Noldor, Sindar or any other ethnos. I understand that there are, as you put it, ‘bad feelings’ between the various communities and it will not be easy to reconcile the warring sides. But I would not be here today in the first place if I feared difficulties and I invite all Taraskovyan citizens who have fled their lands to return home.”

A Taraskovyan journalist stood up to ask his own question.

“Alexander Slanderov, Vigvar Daily. First a question to Your Highness. Can you provide proof that you are who you claim to be? It is indeed quite unusual to see dead people returning to life all of a sudden, even if the dead people were just in a little coma.”

The man grinned broadly before fixing his gaze upon Ustinov and then switching to Voevodov.

“Now a question to the General-Colonel and to the Marshal. How come the two proud Ruling Councilors who refused to bow to pressure from various groups decided to side with a dead coma walking man who passes himself for the Grand Duke? Thank you.”

With that he sat down, leaving the three men the opportunity to answer his questions. The Grand Duke was the first to answer as he stood up, sliding an arm beneath his cloak, revealing it moments later holding a sword that all Taraskovyans recognized. Mikhail held the Sword of Rulers in his hand for a second before sticking it violently into the table in front of him, leaving it stand as he sat down, looking at Slanderov.

“Do you think the Order of the Seven, who recovered the blade following my announced death at Tin-Vilena, would have entrusted it to an imposter?”

The ‘answer’ was self-explanatory, for should the journalist even dare say that the Order supported an imposter, the consequences would be terrible. The two other Ruling Councils chuckled softly as Ustinov answered the other question.

“Let us say that the three of us know what is better for our motherland and that we do not think that systematic genocide of opponents is the answer to our problems.”

“Your Highness?” the Knootian achnorman asked as the KNN cameraman focussed on him. “Rudolf Rupert, KNN reporting on the story as it develops." He paused momentarily so the KNN studio at home could insert the cue sound effect before continuing. “You mentioned territorial expansions. How will the transitional government affect relations with the DDR and does your new government intend to respect existing arrangements in Nieuw Rotterdam for example?”

The overweight woman then raised her chewed-off pen into the air. “If I may continue on that line of questioning, Your Highness? What about your Dutchspeaking minorities and their rights? Will the Grand Duchy be an equal multi-ethnic and multilingual state?” She paused for a moment. “And how would Your Highness view political initiatives by your Dutchpeaking subjects, especially in the Fiefdoms of South Cardinia and Uthar and on Europolis?”

Finally, the hipster stood up and rearranged his trendy hat. “Game, Utro radio. We are a radio station for young Taraskovyans and one of our listeners would like to know if Your Highness has a favourite song that he would like to hear on Utro.”

Mikhail nodded to the Knootian and invited Voevodov to speak.

“There will be no transitional government as you have put it. The Ruling Council and its agencies shall continue to exercise their authority, only that now we shall again have a third member. As of the relations with the Dutch Democratic Republic, we see no reasons to change our current course of action.”

With that, Voevodov inclined his politely to Mikhail, inviting the Grand Duke to speak.

“And if the new Constitution gets passed and I get the confidence of my people, then my new government will respect the past obligations of the Federation, including respecting the status of Nieuw Rotterdam.”

Having answered the first question, Mikhail invited the Europolis journalist to ask hers, pausing for a second before responding.

“The speakers of Dutch, as you put it, are Taraskovyan citizens and, as such, will have the same rights and obligations as any other Taraskovyan citizen, namely they will have the same rights for initiatives as the rest of the country. As of an equal “multiethnic and multilingual state”, as you put it, I fail to see what you mean. The official languages of the Grand Duchy shall, as always, be the Taraskath and Russian. However, my team has included two other languages as national ones, namely Dutch and Toran. This will mean several things, such as the fact that public education shall give lessons in these languages to the speakers and the fact that Fiefdoms with a sizeable community of the speakers of Dutch or Toran shall have the right to use these languages as official on the Fiefdom level. I hope that answers your question.”

He smiled at the woman as he invited the youngster to ask his own question, laughing lightly, followed by the audience, as he heard what the ‘journalist’ from Utro had to offer.

“I think that ‘White Pearl, Black Oceans’ shall do nicely. Truly is a great song and one of my favourites.”

Fhakain Dewshining raised her hand. When called upon, she made the local gesture for one greeting a superior well above one's station, having taken the time to learn the local protocols. "Fhakain Dewshining of the Selinia Herald , Your Highness. In light of these changes, what is the status of Your Highness's royal sister, the Grand Duchess Vethara?"

Mikhail brought his right hand to his eyes and then extended it slightly into the direction of the Danaan journalist, his face showing nothing of the amusement and curiousity that reigned in him. Indeed, it was the first foreign guest to the event to have bothered to study Taraskovyan customs and protocols. And yet, whilst Fhakain Dewshining learnt the way to greet, she has missed out something of major importance.

“First of all, allow me to correct you. My sister was, during the period of my announced death, the Grand Duchess by Right of Tarasovka. Maybe this title makes no sense said in a language other than Taraskath, but I assure you that there is quite a difference. My dear sister never gave the Oath of Faith and, as such, was never entrusted with this blade.”

The Grand Duke motioned at the sword that he left sticking out of the table, its curves of silver and black, with sapphires in the hilt, gleaming with some sort of dark light. Or maybe it was just an impression the blade gave, who could really tell?

“As of her status now that these changes have happened… She is my beloved little sister, she is the only family I have remaining, she is the one who has my protection. Does this answer your question?”

"Yes, Your Highness, it does." She sat back down, making a note on her note pad.

And as Dewshining retook her seat, a journalist from the Taraskovyan News Wire stood up to ask his own question.

“Anatoly Pertsev, Taraskovyan News Wire, with a question to the three of you Sirs. What shall be the status of the Grand Ducal Government in Exile led by Her Highness Vethara?”

Ustinov nodded, glancing at Mikhail and Vladimir, the two giving him a clear indication that he could go ahead with an answer.

“The only legitimate government of Tarasovka is this Ruling Council, the three members of which are before your eyes. I also fail to see the need for a Grand Ducal Government in Exile in the case that the Taraskovyan people vote to restore the Grand Duchy under His Highness’ Mikhail’s rule. Should the people opt for the Grand Duchy or for an other form of government, Her Highness Vethara will have to comply to the will of her kin.”

[OOC: Unless somebody has something else to ask, I will be wrapping this thread up in the next couple days and concentrating on this here thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=417096).

Thanks to all those who deigned participate =) ]