NationStates Jolt Archive

You are watching MNB News

"... will affect debate of the Common Domestic Policy.

Duke Marcus deIntan flew out of Arn-Maciska International Airport today, bound for Port Olympus on the Federated Klatchian Coast.

Ministry of External Affairs Officials say that Lord deIntan, accompanied by Baroness Aryet, will be discussing a range of issues with the Klatchians "aimed at improving relations between our two nations". According to the Ministry, these issues will include the negotiation of a formal treaty between the Greater Empire and Klatch

Our sources have informed us that the States-General will be needed to ratify any treaty resulting from the negotiations.

Analysts have said that the move is an unexpected development given the increasing influence of the isolationist in both the Kingdom Parliament and in the States-General.

His Grace's plane should be arriving in Port Olympus within the hour.

Official reports of a flood in northern..."

========

Ladies and Gentlemen, we will be beginning our approach to Port Olympus in approximately two minutes. Please make sure your luggage is placed in the overhead storage.
Baroness Aryet, a severe woman in here mid-thirties, glared at the man sitting opposite her.
"You're going down old man," she growled.
The other merely laughed.
Unlike most of the older Macisikani nobles, Duke deIntan was not a tall, gaunt man with a hawkish face and eyes that would bore through concrete; he was of average height, moderate girth, and with the amicable features of an elderly apple.
And a jolly laugh, currently directed at his irate female companion.
"Aw, Sophie, I'm shaking in my boots."
Aryet's glare deepened.
"Full house. Queens over tens." she smugly stated, triumphantly laying her cards down on the fixed plastic table between them.
"Oh dear..." deIntan said, suddenly looking downcast. "I loose..." he looked up mournfully, paused, and then grinned.
"All I have is four ones..."
"You, you, you... you..."
deIntan was laughing again. While most Imperial nobles strove for emotionless blank masks, deIntan employed a full range of expressions and emotions, but then again, he was still an active member of the Lords Theatre Group.
"And I believe you now owe me...?"
"Nothing. That covers what I won off you in the airport lounge."
"Oh." deIntan's disappointed expression wasn't fooling anyone. He looked about as sincere as a lawyer.
"Don't even try it Marcus. I know you too well." she warned.
"Aww. Spoil my fun."

"Ladies and gentlemen, could you please fasten your seatbelts and place your traytables in the upright and looked position. We are beginning our descent to Port Olympus."

"Ah, well, fun's over. Time for work." deIntan said, quickly and efficiently collecting the cards and stowing them somewhere about himself.
Aryet nodded as the plane jolted and dropped slowly and gracefully towards the Klatchian tarmac.
"Don't look so serious Sophie; a maiden as pretty as yourself should show a smile to the world!" he said, with a twinkle in his eye. The man also relentlessly teased his friends.
Aryet looked shocked for a moment, then laughed; deIntan's good humour was infectious.
"And if I showed it to you, your lovely lady wife would have me floating facedown in A-Mac Harbour," she replied, her ears popping.
The other chortled away to himself as the plane bumped down onto the runway, taxiing to where the Klatchian reception waited.
Aryet looked out the window, noting the Klatchians.
"And now we go to work."

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have arrived in Port Olympus. Please remember to check your luggage. Thank you for flying with Imperial Diplomatic Air.

deIntan stood, solemn now, but with a smile dancing in his eyes.
"Indeed, and now... onwards and upwards, for the glory of Rome!"
Aryet rolled her eyes, then, standing, put on her greeting-foreign-notables expression and followed her superior to the hatch.

The jetway led into a small terminal. Obviously this was not the main international airport but a small, special terminal built for dignitaries and other notables flying on government jets. It was not plush, but modern and comfortable with overstuffed chairs arranged in conversational groups. A bar and player piano were tucked in one corner with several T.V's placed around the space. The ceiling arched towards the far wall of glass that looked onto a wide ship canal. Large cargo ships sat docked on the other side of the canal, while a tug and several barges steamed north churning up the deep green water.

At the other end of the terminal was a counter with several people milling about. All but two wore blue-gray uniforms. The group approached the dignitaries as they exited from the security door. The Klatchians were led by a young man wearing an expensive dark blue silk suit. The thin lythe gentleman had only a small gold pin consisting of a circle of stars on his lapel and he carried a heavy cane. His deep set brown eyes appeared to be sizing up deIntan in quite an unfriendly manner as he approached. Next to him was a slightly older woman, with her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a white dress uniform notable for the Prussian style collar and red tabs. Her left-gloved hand carried her uniform hat under her arm while the right sat on the hilt of a sword bayonet almost as long as her upper leg. The green eyes set into the officer's attractive face were alternating between the man in the suit and the Macisikani delegation.

"Your Grace, your ladyship, Welcome to Port Olympus. I am your liaison officer Lieutenant Marshal Brinks of the Diplomatic Section." The voice was cultured, pleasant, and educated. But the eyes, and the slight way he seemed to angle himself as he presented his hand, seemed to hold menace. Something about him indicated that he were quite capable of pulling out a knife and slipping it between the Duke's ribs on the spot, without any moral reservations.

"And may I present Major Tolwaith, of the Alconian Marines, assigned to temporary duty with the JDF and acting head of security for the Old College."

The female officer gave a short bow to both the Duke and the Baroness, "Your Grace…my lady…". She pronounced it with an accent that sounded Afrikaanian. She seemed to be operating in a well oiled groove, someone that dealt with nobles, or the concept of nobles, on a more regular basis than Brinks. She turned to the group in gray uniforms. "Lieutenant, please make sure that the delegation's luggage is securely stowed in the vehicles. Go to it." The group of men and woman in blue-gray began to take luggage out the doors beyond the counters.

"Now then Your Grace, If you could just step this way we will get you all your I.D.'s issued while your luggage is placed in the limos." began the Marshal.

He led the delegation towards a unit built into the side of the counter. "If you will just place your thumb on the green panel and look at the mirror your Grace."

An electronic beep and a flashing green light indicated something. A man in uniform behind the counter handed Brinks a laminated I.D. card which he handed to the Duke. "Thank You…your Grace." He ignored the rest of the delegation and began talking solely to Duke Istan. "There will be a formal reception after you've had a chance to freshen up a bit…."

A cough from the Major drew Brink's attention back to dealing with the identification process. He returned to verify that the Baroness was given her proper I.D. and the process continued. The Major stood quietly at parade rest watching the process in a disinterested way.

The Duke's face creased in a broad grin as he enthusiastically pumped Brinks' hand; something in his carriage said that he saw more threatening things than the Marshal on a daily basis. He acknowledged Tolwaith's greeting with a nod and a smile, before going through the ID collection process.
"... damnable photos... skin always turns green..." he muttered to himself as he accepted the I.D. card. "Oh, thanks." he added airily, to Brinks as he clipped it to the lapel of his suit.

Aryet was looking around the interior of the terminal with the vaguely disinterested gaze of a sightseer. She'd dismissed Brinks with a glance and a nod, smiled and replied to the major with "pleased to meet you", and was now looking slightly bored. She thanked him for her ID, attaching it to a lanyard string that she produced seemingly from thin air.

The other delegates, one wearing the robes of a member of the Macisikan Orthodox Church, stared stoically around, accepting their ID tags with a "thank you", before clustering behind the Duke and the Baroness. Aside from the clergyman, and ten men and women who were clearly bodyguards of some description, the delegation was wearing clothes that seemed to be straight out of upper class 1910 England. Aside from the bodyguards, the delegates, career diplomats to a man, were contriving to suggest by body language that they'd stood in more airport terminals than most people had had hot dinners, and this was nothing special.

When he'd got a nod from Aryet confirming that the others had picked up and put on their ID tags, he addressed both the Major and the Lt. Marshal.
"Freshen up you say? Sounds like an idea. Reception? Sounds like a better one. I don't know about the rest of this lot, but I'm hungry," he announced in jovial tones. "There was more nutrition in the plastic forks than there was in the food on that plane!" the last bit was only half-joking.

Aryet's expression flickered at that; just for an instant. It was the look of someone trying not to agree. Then it went back to being slightly bored.
"Thank you for your kind offer Lieutenant, but I believe we are well-served in that area," she said in a soft voice, her expression not changing.

"Indeed," the Duke boomed. "These limos you have prepared; lead on my good man. Unless you have some screening process you'd like us to go through?" the last was said with a broad smile, intended to take the sting out of the words.

Somewhere in Vrak…

Translated from Vrakian.

-The Macisikan delegates have arrived, according to Intel Sub-director #4.
-Good. I’m sure our man there is already enroute?
-Yes. The usual screening? Find out what they are after and then bring in the heavies?
-Indeed. Put me through to the Minister.
-Right away. A question sir?
-Yes?
-What of the overtures from Tiburon? Shouldn’t we pursue that avenue? After all, they are one of the few nations within Haven that seem eager to establish closer relations.
-Of course, and we haven’t forgotten about them. But Macisikan, well, they are a higher priority at the moment.

====

After setting down his whiskey, the Intelligence Sub-Director currently based in Port Olympus received an update. The ambassador was on the way and although he won’t be in attendance at the initial meeting (leaving that for the Klatchian marshals) he would be greeting the foreigners at their final destination in Port Olympus itself.

He sighed and took out the relatively thick folder on the nation of Macisikan.

Brinks shook his head. "At the moment, Your Grace your delegation is immune from standard customs inspections. Nor do you need to wear those identification tags, they do distract from the lovely dress the baroness is wearing. Just have them ready to present upon demand. Only your security detail need wear their badges at all times outside of Parliament Hill." He turned and pointed down a short hall that the luggage had gone. "This way your Grace."

The hall opened into a concrete walkway. The severity of the twelve foot high concrete walls was lightened by whimsical glazed tile imbedded into it. The walkway jogged a short distance before turning and opening into an atrium space. A cactus covered slope rose up on both sides of walkway, with an identical slope on the far wall. The ceiling contained a large skylight that lit the area of pavement between the two slopes. Three extra long, black limos sat in the enclosed parking area.

"Major would you see that everyone gets into the transportation please. I need to go get my car." The Major gave a short bow and watched as Brinks walked over to one of the two massive gantry doors. It began to rise as he approached.

"Lieutenant, please take the recruits back to their normal duties." She said before returning to the Duke. "I will let you decide how you wish to divide your household, I mean staff, your grace."

The limo's passenger compartments had three seats facing forward, three facing the rear. The Major sat behind the driver in the first limo. After loading up all of the passengers the limos moved out of the parking area. Six police motorcycles and a black sports car with flashing green lights formed up the motorcade as it crossed the tarmac.

The ride was fairly quick through the city. First the motorcade followed a wide highway east through an industrial zone. Factories, foundries, refineries, and massive cargo cranes were the only items of interest along the highway. The freeway came to a large interchange, the motorcade turned north and dove into a tunnel in the side of the hill.

The tunnel was unremarkable, covered in glazed white tile. This tunnel apparently only carried northbound traffic under the river. The tunnel emerged into light and continued through a trench. There was an interchange with another road before vanishing back down into a second tunnel.

The tunnel emerged onto a bulavard with massive skyscrapers on both sides almost forming a canyon out of glass, steel, and brick. The road was packed with cars being shoved off to the side as the motorcade, many of the drivers got out and shouted. Although what was a bit hard to hear. The steel and glass canyon ended abruptly as the motorcade swung around large square with trees and bushes. Four other bulavards intersected at the four corners of the square. This was obviously the heart of the city, with the massive rathouse on the East Side and what appeared to be the city's central station on the north. In the distance one could make out high hills that seemed to form a horseshoe around the inner city.

The motorcade turned onto a boulevard heading northwest towards one of the larger hills. Unlike the other boulevards that had trees and the occasional fountain separating the sides of the street, this one had a canal. On the other side of the street were modern, short office buildings. Glass boxes of five to eight stories in height. In contrast the motorcade was passing buildings and homes that appeared to date to the Italian renaissance. The boulevard ended in a rotary surrounding a large pool. Facing the pool was a medieval gatehouse with a modern security gate built on one side and a station for a tram rising up the hill on the other.

The motorcade pulled through the ancient stone gate and under the rising portcullis before taking on the steep narrow roadway beyond. The roadway followed a small natural along the valley it had craved through the hill. At various points along the wall of the valley were statues on concrete bases built out from the wall of the narrow valley. Narrow slits in the concrete bases made their real purpose obvious.

The road ended intersecting a tree-lined street at the top of the hill. There was a large triangular open space here with a statue of a Walrus standing upon the body of a Bear in the center. Behind the walrus rose the Presidential Palace. The tree lined street soon intersected with a second street forming one corner of a paved square that was dominated by the tall campanile tower that had been visible from downtown. This was Parliament Square. The cars turned off the street and along the paved square, which served as a parking lot. On one side was a building that appeared to be a Baroque Palace. The other side opened to the valley they had just come up with a domed classical building on the far side. Beyond the domed Hall of the Privy Council rose several other buildings of varying age and size.

The diplomatic vehicles turned and entered a gate built into the center of the baroque palace. The court they entered on the other side was obviously much older than the front of the building. It too served as both roadway and parking with cars crammed into any and all available space except for a car wide space that went down the center and turned before exiting through a gateway in one corner of the north range. The limos stopped before a gate built in the south range of the courtyard and protected by two guards in blue gray uniforms. The area before the gate was kept clear of cars by several bollards with dragons' heads, allowing for the fairly easy disembarkment of the passengers.

The Major exited and waited for Duke Istan and the Baroness to join her near the gate before commenting. "I am afraid the Marshal will likely be detained looking for a parking spot." She shook her head, as though this was normal and expected but the Marshal hadn't foreseen it. "So I will show you to your quarters Your Grace."

She turned and walked through the gate and along the tunnel through the range and into a garden courtyard on the other side. It was a bright cheerful place with dark green ivy growing up the wall, colorful flowering bushes around a large fountain in the center. "This is the New Palace Upper College, basically temporary housing for diplomats and others as desired by Parliament. I have assigned your senior staff to Red House and your junior staff to Hamster House on the other side of the court. The houses are all self-contained and at your disposal for the rest of your stay." She pointed out two doorways built into the facing ranges.

"The main gate is guarded twenty-four seven. Usually by Parliamentary Police, but we had to send them down to help deal with some rioting. It seems the local Artists and Performers Guild has had a problem with Mister forty seven executing mimes in DNGT. The houses each have their own, independent computerized security system and the outside lines as well as phones connected to the Hill's switchboard. The locks work based on the magnetic strips on the back of your identification cards. Presently, I have the only card outside your delegation that will open the lock." She produced her own identification card to illustrate the point. Passing it through the card reader built into the doorjamb of Red House. A buzz and she turned the handle opening the door.

"Would you like me to show you around your quarters your Grace? The only other odd thing is that both buildings were wired with a 220 and 120 system. I am sure you can recognize one from the other."

OOC: Pictures for major places will be shown later. Sorry for the long post.
Also, all Klatchian Dignitaires attending the Reception should be noted over in the FKC forum's corresponding thread.

OOC: Long post makes for interesting read; I've inflicted my own long ramblings on other people before.

IC:
As the party walked to the cars the Baroness whispered to the clergyman "Did I detect a hint of sarcasm in Brinks' comment on my dress?"
"Just a smidgeon milady," he murmured back.
"I think he might have a mild antipathy towards us... just a vague feeling." That earned a small smile.

When they'd been shown to their cars the Duke had stared at the Major for moment before booming out "Household? That lot? My household?" he shuddered. "That's a scary thought!" he jerked a thumb over his shoulder and said in a stage whisper "that one's a lawyer!"

Chuckling at his own bad joke, the Duke had then climbed into the same limo as the major, the Baroness joining him; the two sat at the back, peering out the windows, separated by the clergyman. Two of the guards joined them; the rest filed themselves away in the other cars. The expressions of the two nobles said clearly that, as tourists, they didn't think much of what they saw, at least until the canal was reached, where they studied the italian-style buildings with an air of professional interest. The Hall of the Privy Council, Presidential Palace and the statue of bear and walrus also drew interested glances, but no comments.

They'd listened attentively as the Major explained the arrangements, nodding thoughtfully as each point was brought up.

"Would you like me to show you around your quarters your Grace? The only other odd thing is that both buildings were wired with a 220 and 120 system. I am sure you can recognize one from the other."
The Duke looked from side to side, receiving nods as answers.
"I think the broad consensus is that we'd very much appreciate a tour of our quarters, thank you Major. They look like very nice accommodations to me."
"Cozy," the Baroness answered, "and as for the wiring, well, I'm sure we can work it out," she added with a small smile.

The Major gave that look, the universal blank look that hid an NCO's anger and fustration after being given a worthless and unneeded order by a superior officer. The fact that the Major could do it was a bit intresting though, not something officers learned much.

"Certainly your Grace. Shall we start with Red House?" She entered the small vestibule with a low cealing beyond the door. The floor was tiltled in a mosaic of a pinnapple. The narrow staircase went both up and down from this spot "On the ground floor is a general sitting room with a standard television set. The utility closet, two bedrooms and a bath are off of that room. There are four single beds. Nothing fancy, it was intended to be used for guards when only one residence was required."

She turned and went up the stairs. At the top of the flight was a small hall area with a pair of french doors opening onto a small balcony beyond. Columned archways on both sides of the area led into a sitting area and dinning area respectively. The rooms appeared to have twelve foot high cealings with a heavy plaster moulding around the top and 3/4 high panneling along the walls in both rooms. Broken by the french doors and the two marble fireplaces set into the opposing common walls. The floors were hardwood with a neutral beige rugs in both rooms. The furniture was modern, with fabric and unadorned dark wood, but were obviously based on classic designs.

Like the landing, the rooms had large windows looking out at the city center beyond. One could see the massive skyscrapers rising from a triangular area south of the city center near the river. An island of older buildings and towers could just be made out on the other side of the river from here. There was obviously the city center, a gothic cathedral rose a few blocks futher east then the motorcade had travled. It appeared that the north and west sides of the city within the bowl were older with the steeples and the occasional tower rising out of the area of low roofed buildings. One could make out the shining water of the great freshwater body Lake Olympus beyond a low, long hill rising on the other side of the city center.

"Off of the drawing room...well I guess this is really a sitting room there is a small office area."

An archway in the sitting room wall opposite the was filled with glass doors containing frosted glass. The office was a much smaller space, with the cealing dropped to ten feet correspondingly. It was lit by a bow window with a window seat looking out onto the courtyard. On one wall was a wide daybed built into an alcove in the wall with a canopy of white spun silk dropping down to the floor. On the opposite side was a wide writting desk made of some dark wood. Two more chairs in the center of the room filled out the furniture.

"The room is fitted out in a french style. Which means that their are closets behind those built in bookcases. She pointed to the two bookcases on either side of the daybed. The bookcases appeared to contain a few volumes but mostly the shelves were filled with knicknacks. The Major walked over to one and pulled on the inside edge, it swung silently revealing a narrow closet behind. She pointed to the corresponding bookcase on the otherside of the room next to the desk. "There is a small bath with shower behind that bookcase."

The Major led the group back around into the stair hall. She took the three steps up onto the next landing and pointed through a door. "This is the kitchnette. The door at the other end opens back into the dining area. Has a stacked washer and dryer, plates, utinsils, dual dishwashers and a five spot electric cooktop. An undercounter refrigerator and wine cooler."

It was a narrow galley kitchen with white cabinets and jet black countertops. All of the appliances were under the counters with most of the storage in the glass upper cabinets. Of course this allowed everything to be easily found when needed.

At the top of the next fight of stairs was a small sitting area. Where the Major stopped and turned into a doorway off of it. "This is the main bedroom...it has a private bath off of it. No closet but a nice large large wardrobe."

Like the other rooms this was done in neutral colors and the same style of furniture except for the queen sized canopy bed. Which had a riot of carving. The headboard was of young naked women frolicking about with large bears. The upper posts were of two tall narrow bears streatching upwards facing two nude female figures at the end of the bed doing likewise.

The Major leaned against the fireplace mantle for a moment and pointed to the small door at the other end of the room. "The bath has a tub and shower...." One could see the tub and the white titled floors and walls through the open door.

She led the group down the hall again past two door. "Two more bedrooms, with double beds and closets. She stopped at the end of the begining of the stairs to the next floor. "Ah general bathroom for this floor is off the landing here....Four bedrooms and a bathroom up in the attic, a bit crampt for a tour. Fairly plain up there...they were desined as servants quarters...so they have a single iron framed bed each...A small T.V., chair and a table. And the bathroom has four lockers..." She pointed out the window overlooking the garden.

"Really Hamster house is half of this. A row house with a small sitting room on the ground floor, well below ground level actually. A bunkroom off of it that can sleep eight. First floor has a living dining room with a galley kitchen tucked in behind the stairs. Two bedrooms on the second floor that share a bath. Two in the attic that also share a bath. You'll find that the ground floor window of the sitting room and the living room have a great view of the front door of Red House. Any questions?"

The Major was getting impatient with this buisness. Actually if you were standing close enough you could hear her stomache growl.

The delegates had given the major their attention, and had been peering around with interest throughout the tour.
"Any questions?"
The Duke looked around.
"Ah, no? No. No questions major. But thank you very much. We keep you any longer." He delivered a smile, then bustled out of sight and hearing, probably to use a bathroom, leaving the Major alone with the Baroness, and the other delegates.
"Thank you for that tour Major. I actually do have one question; when do you want us ready for the reception? I assume the sooner the better, but..." she stopped, aware of perfect stillness behind her, and barked something over her shoulder in Maciskani; some things always jump the language barrier, and this had the feeling of "don't stand there; do something".

She waited for the answer, nodded, thanked the major again, then swept out of sight.

After the major had left, Aryet and deIntan stood together in the sitting room, staring out over the city; both had freshened up a little, and Aryet had a different dress on. Same style, but this was maroon, over a white blouse. deIntan was holding a hat like a chimney and fingering a pocketwatch.
"Ont-ils trouvé quelque chose?" deIntan asked Did they find anything?
"Non. Pas encore." Aryet replied No. Not yet.
deIntan shrugged. Though they conversed in French, they weren't under any illusions that any listener wouldn't be able to understand what they were saying.
"Des nouvelles d'Arn-Maciska?" Aryet asked. Any news from Arn-Maciska
"Non."
"Ah."
"Madam, Sir, it's time."
Aryet turned to deIntan.
"Well, let's go hobnob with the Klatch then, shall we?"
"Let's shall."
As they walked down the stairs, deIntan said, in a voice just loud enough to carry to the others "And let's hope they know how to cook. I'm starving!"

The Major shrugged at the question. "Ah, sorry my lady...I don't know what time it is scheduled. But I am sure the Marshal will be around to pick you up. It is over in the Presidential Palace. Call the switchboard if you need anything mam' Ah, you'll need to send someone to the Quartermaster over on the Arx for food it appears. Ah, just ask the boys at the gate for help."

The Major exited quickly out of Red House and off through the main gate.

The House was perfectly quiet except for the occasional beep. The security computer downstairs was a stand alone system with some sort of odd programming lanquage. Nor was any bugs detectable in the walls phone lines or anything else. If the Klatchians were listening in they were doing so either by lasers on the windows or by non-electronic means.

The only definiatly odd thing was the small bath off of the office area was much smaller than the adjoing room and the width of the office was less than the living area. Leaving a 'space' behind the fourth bookcase in the office.

Two hours later a call from the front gate informed the Mackistani that their car was waiting.

OOC: Not too sure what you wanted me to do here, so I'm just having them get into the cars...

IC:
The Imperials swept out of Red House, deIntan and Aryet acknowledging the Marshal with a nod. They'd both picked up on his animosity, and had decided that they weren't going to let it get in the way.

Aryet had summed their joint perception up when she'd snapped at deIntan, saying that "he's determined to believe that we're just another group of evil soulless aristos lording our supposed "birthright" over everyone else. Let him. Nothing we do will change it. You cannot talk to those unwilling to listen."

With studied, silent, politeness, the delegates attending the reception climbed into the car, where they stared impassively out the windows.

Nevertheless, the Duke thanked the Marshal for his time and assistance when they arrived at their destination.

The Vrakian ambassador waited impatiently along with his Klatchian Marshall escort. Unlike most Vrakian ambassadors who were escorted with Vrakian personnel, he was located in Port Olympus and, as such, fell within the jurisdiction of the JDF. According to the Diplomatic Corps, it was a plum assignment since he didn't have to travel abroad and only met with fellow Klatchian states. Rarely did foreign dignitaries visit here, Port Olympus, capilal of the entire Klatch. Perhaps this was due to the Federation's overall isolationism, despite the efforts of a few states reaching out. And a few states bringing in unwanted attention, he privately thought. Ah well...

He adjusted his multi-coloured Shriner-like hat on his head and shifted uncomforably in his vest. Normally, most ambassadors wore a jet black vest with gold trim but since he was here, his was purple. Overall, his outfit looked like something from a Gauguin nightmare, but then the Vrakians weren't known for their style. He checked to make sure his tusks were capped, since he didn't want to unintentionally stab someone.

Just to the side of the walrus stood a seven foot tall bodyguard clad only in a simple black suit. He wore black sunglasses that matched his hair colour that was closely cropped. Odd animal tatooes were visible on the back of his hands and he flexed his fingers slowly, as if wishing to grab hold of something and rend it to pieces.

"This should be interesting," muttered the walrus to no one in particular.

The Presidential Palace (http://www.nyc-architecture.com/GON/nycity_old_exterior.jpg) is pink-granite exercise in a gigantic and sober colonnaded Doric order. It dominated the green space before it and almost the Parliamentary building next door.

The Mackisikani Delegation was led up the stairs and into a long, vaulted corridor lit by windows placed in the cross vaults of the ceiling. An eight-foot wide canal of water ran down the center to the far set of door set in a massive arch. The hll was decorated in what some refereed to as Heroic Klatchian. The ceiling was covered with frescos depicting scenes of huge walruses, dragons, gods all seriously contempating the mere mortal humans that surrounded their lofty perches in the sky and those walking down the corridor below. Columns reaching the intersection of the vault and cross vault divided the walls into bays. Tattered and worn battle flags hung down below the windows in each bay. On stone pedestals were raised a more gruesome sight, skeletons of Orca, Bears, Orcs, Goblins, Humans and a even a few Walruses. On each stone base was a name and date etched in stone. Those defeated by King Vrak in his long life upon his throne, (when this was his summer palace)

The last pedestal was the skeleton of a human boy with the name Dozle. In truth Dozle had not been taken and the skeleton was a fake.

The doors at the end of the hall were opened to reveal the Grand Hall (http://www.answers.com/main/content/wp/en/c/c2/Penn_Station1.jpg) of the Palace. It was a vast space of marble and travertine. The marble floor was sparsely filled with dignitaries who looked up at the new arrivals.. A man in some odd looking, overly gold braided uniform first called out something in deep guttural Vrakian before repeating it in English., "His Grace, the Duke of Intan and Baroness Aryet with party"

On the other side of the room, below a huge pool built into the opposing staircase, a woman turned her head and locked eyes with deIntan. She was over six feet tall with red hair and green eyes. She stood dressed in a simple, full length white skirt and a dark blue tabard trimmed in silver with a gold griffin emblazoned over her heart. The beauty stood out from the others surrounding her both by her steady gaze at the Duke and her royal demeanor.

Behind her stood an older woman dressed in white pants and jacket that carried two bastard swords. She too looked at the new arrivals, but a definite protective glare came out of her cold blue eyes.

There was a polite cough at deIntan's right. The sound was coming from a four foot tall gray fox-creature. He looked like an escapee from a Harry Potter movie. He wore the formal attire of an early 19th century gentleman.

"Your, Grace I welcome you and your party to Port Olympus and the Presidential Palace. Please allow me to introduce myself Sir Ozymandias Llewellyn, Royal Key of the United Duchies and Speaker of the Klatchian Parliament. It also appears that I am the unofficial host of this reception." He gave a short head bow to the group as he introduced himself.

"And I take it this is Baroness Aryet? Charmed my lady." He gave her a second bow, longer and deeper than the first.
"Shall I introduce you to some of the Klatchian dignitaries here your Grace?" he asked in a polite tone.

OOC: Klatchians, If your going to introduce your character now fine, just put the intro into Ozy's mouth unless you want to have all your bills before parliament tabled until it snows in Fasta.

Elector Alan Ravenbrooke, Professor of Historical Anthropology and one of the Electors representing New Shiron waited patiently. Dressed in a conservative black tuxedo, he watched the proceedings with interest. The Queen herself had told him to come to this event. She seemed convinced that his academic training and experience would be valuable in dealing with representatives from the always fractious Klatchian nations.

At least the food was likely to be good and the drinks were bound to be good.

He waited patiently for his introduction. The good thing about teaching and field work for 20 years was that it tought patience. He would need all of that for this event he had already long decided.

ooc
Alan Ravenbrooke is a male caucasion, looks in his late 30s (but is in his mid 40s), is medium height and build, brown hair, brown eyes, thick glasses, and has written successful academic and popular books on warfare and society as well as disease and the effects on human civilizations.

OOC: Flex time note New Shiron: This event occurs before the Sirens thread. Since the Landgravine is the red head standing in the white over there ;)

The fox then motioned to the enormous walrus rolling towards the small party.

"Ah, and that would be Tuyrt Ratyuig, Vrakian ambassador to Port Olympus."

He shrugged and continued on.

"It appears that that state's keys haven't been able to make it. I'm sure they will join us shortly."

As the walrus drew closer, he bowed towards the Speaker and the Alconians. Then he turned and bowed to the foreigners.

Aside from a start on the part of one of the unnamed advisors when they saw Ozy (non-humans were extremely rare in the Empire), the Imperials seemed to have retreated behind blank, smiling masks; they hadn't even twitched at the sight of the skeletons. Anyone who looked closely would have noticed that their smiles didn't quite reach their eyes.

deIntan had noticed the Landgravine. His body language had indicated that, while he respected her, he was neither intimidated by her authority, nor entranced by her beauty. Aryet gave her the same look that a till gets when it's time to cash up; simple assessment, nothing more. Neither of the two made any sort of real acknowledgement; doing so before they were formally introduced would be considered rude by Imperial standards, and, without any advice to the contrary, they would solidly adhere to the protocol they knew.

The Imperials had nodded at the New Shironi (?) delegate, deIntan enthusiastically pumping his hand, and, unsure of the correct protocol, had bowed from the waist to Ratyuig. Ozy had recieved a simple nod from deIntan, while Aryet had graciously inclined her head and smiled.

Inside Aryet's head a calculator was furiously churning away, tallying up the Klatchian's reactions as each group was introduced to them; the Shironi professor had been put at the bottom of the scorecard, the Landgravine at the top, with the walrus coming in a close third to Ozy. The bodyguards were dismissed as unimportant, unless they opened their mouths...

God alone knew what deIntan was thinking. Probably lunch.

Ozy gave a short headbow to the Vrakian Ambassador. Of course their mentor and commander is all that is really needed. He thought. Truthfully most delegations in Port Olympus usually was usually run by either the senior Key or senior Elector. But the Vrakians did everything their own way.

Ozy led the part towards the Landgravine. "Your Grace, may I present the Outer Consul of the Federation, Landgravine of Hubris, Victoria Wittelbach Crawford." She took a short bow.

"My lady, may I present his Grace, the Duke of Intan and his aide Baroness Aynet."

"Welcome to the Federation your Grace. I hope that your quarters are sufficent and comfortable?"

The Macisikani party bowed from the waist again. Anyone who had studied them would soon realise that they had a large number of finely tuned ways of bowing; this looked like #29, Pleased to Meet A Foreign VIP.

"Thank you my lady," deIntan replied, flashing a brief smile at her. He seemed to make to reach his hand out, then arrested the movement, turning it into doffing his hat. "Our quarters are quite spacious and very comfortable, thank you."

On Aryet's scorecard Ozy dropped below the walrus; the Landgravine hadn't even acknowledged him.

"I must say, milady," deIntan continued, "that this is indeed a very fine Palace. Vrakian, isn't it? No, wait," he chuckled and waved a hand. "Name: deIntan. Subject: the very obvious. I'll take "guess the architecture" for five points please," he finished, still chuckling.

The Landgravine chuckled, "I don't think it is actually....to few domes. Which is what Vrakian Architecture is know for, domes. You will have to ask Sir Ozy something like that." She gave a wry smile towards the fox. "Well our dear and loyal consular what say you?"

"If I recall correctly, King Vrak held an architectural competion for this building the Winter Palace I beleive was the name...this was the winning design, modified for Vrakian tastes. If you want to see Vrakian Architecture you should go to the Vrakian Quarter not far from here."

The Landgravine shook her head. "Well I am afraid your Grace I can only award two and half points for the answer. Truthfully Parliament Hill has so many architectural styles that it is a riot of conflicting ideals."

"Which makes it perfect for the Federation, a union of conflicting ideals. I am surprised we ever got the Constitution written let alone implemented." Ozy shook his head.

The only reason we got it done was the rampent alcholism of the Klatch is the only universal trait of our nation. And me just dropping it on them durring a particularly bad morning of hangovers. Ozy pondered for a moment.

"If you will all excuse me? I need to go over and make a comment to my neice's Elector. Doctor Ravenbrooke recently quoted one of my freinds in his last book and forgot to refrence him."

deIntan paused for a moment, then started laughing, gasping out "who says Klatchians don't have a sense of humour?" Clearly the Duke was in very good humour today.
His laughter was infectious; but Aryet's smile did not reach her eyes. She wasn't being cold or aloof; anyone who knew her could see she was already bored by the small talk, and anyway, she was hungry. Food had been promised.
With a suddenness that some might find unnerving, the Duke's demeanour turned serious. "Constitution that problematic? You know," and here his voice dropped to a whisper, audible only to the Landgravine and no-one else, "to my untutored ear, it sounds like Klatch is one step away from chaos... forgive me, that was out of turn."

A few weeks later, back in Intan, the Duke would remember the conversation as he watched the news of the assassination attempt, the Landgravine's hospitalisation, and what followed. He would look at the viewer, and murmur to himself "I told you so". Then he would go back to work.

"Ah, well," the Duke said, his volume rising and his smile returning, "you know what they say, Sir Ozymandus, stealing from one is plagiarism, very bad thing, but stealing from many? They call that research. Good day to you."
deIntan then cast about for something to say. In the Empire, asking after the health of someone's family was the norm, but the Landgravine didn't have any children as far as he knew, or a husband either... he became aware of the silence filling the rest of the hall. Perhaps an anecdote then...

"It's gone very quiet... reminds me of the time Aldir put his foot in it, oh, that was good..." he half-turned, speaking to a large amount of the hall, while still including the Landgravine and Aryet.
"Picture this; there's this great debate going on in the House of Lords, well not a debate, really, more of a screaming argument; half the chamber is nose to nose with the other half, everyone shouting... you remember don't you Aryet? What were we arguing about?"

"I don't remember what you were arguing about, but I was discussing environmental issues with the Junior Interior Minister."

"Yes, a civilised debate, held at the top of your lungs and two inches away from eachother... and it wasn't about the environment. I remember now; it was about dessert." He leaned towards the Langravine. "The pudding they serve with lunch; blackberry or chocolate; very serious," he said in that aristocratic whisper that carries all the way to the rafters, "anyway, the whole thing is going off," he continued in a normal voice, "His Majesty is down on the floor, bickering with my wife and one of the cardinals, the First is arguing with her deputy, and then there comes that lull, you know? When the entire room goes silent, everyone just stops talking? well, into the silence we hear Bishop Aldir saying "the cold blooded iron maiden, that black-hearted bitch Elgiva..." and bang! it goes straight into the Hansard.
"Well, the whole chamber just turns and stares at him, and he's gone white as a sheet. Everyone's just staring, except for yours truly, who booms out "You said that a bit too loudly my boy". Everyone looks at me, and then they all swivel and look at the First Minister, who says, ah what did she say? Ah, yes, she says, "Aldir? Don't bother coming into work tomorrow."
"Now he stammers and ums and ahs, and splutters and says, idiot that he is "How dare you! You can't do this to me!". Whereupon the First, who was about to start in on her deputy again, looks him in the eye and asks him how many times she has to flush before he'll go away. Then down on the floor, someone sniggers. By now we look like those clowns in the circus, you know the ones that turn back and forth, back and forth, we turn to look at the source; His Majesty, the King-Emperor.
"Aldir, poor bastard. Never knew when to shut up and stop insulting people. Well, that was the end of his career in the Ministry. Defected to the Conservatives two weeks later, led his party to a glorious defeat at the elections, and was kicked out of the Lords when they excised all the bishops last week. As for the First, well, the name kinda stuck. The Iron Maiden of Imperial politics. Actually wears it as a badge of pride.
"What? No-one believe me? Take a look in the Hansard. It's all there. Public record. And, yes, we were arguing about lunch."

Aryet nodded, adding "Very serious matter, is lunch."

The Landgravine turned at the end of that and looked at Ozy. "Was that two oblique refrences or one?"

Ozy shook his head, "I hope only one my lady. I suppose it is time to serve lunch then your Grace?"

"It was just a little story I like telling... ah, I'm not fooling anyone; technically it was three or four, but who's counting?" the Duke said with a laugh. "Yes, Sir Ozymandius, lunch would be greatly appreciated. Lead on, McDuff!"
Behind him Aryet was shaking her head and smiling. The others looked on calmly, though heads had lifted at the offer of food.

Sir Ozy blinked at the 'lead on MacDuff' reference. He turned and began up a set of stairs. "You know, I remember reading that as a child. Of course I doubt the Duke means for me to attack him as Macbeth did." At the top of the stairs he turned right and entered a smaller room that was filled with a large table set with silver and crystal.

Walked to a central chair and waited for others to find their seats. "Ladies and gentleman you will be offered a selection of either Vrakian or grilled dishes today. Just place your orders to the steward and they will take your order and insure it is prepared to your directions and taste."

Ozy sat down, and ordered a glass of white wine. He smiled at the Baroness who had been placed across from him.

The ambassador dutifly followed the Alconians and the foreign dignitaries. In truth, he did not know what to make of the Macisikans. He was looking forward to lunch, as one could attest to his rotund figure.

The Baroness examined the menu critically, made her choice, and thanked the waiter.
"Somehow I rather doubt he would appreciate you attacking him," she observed, smiling blandly at Sir Ozy, while the Duke ordered his own meal and the others sat down around the table, ordering theirs. The woman must have had exceptional hearing.
"Lord deIntan," she said to Sir Ozy, making a vague circular gesture, "he is like most Imperial M.P.'s; brilliant mind, but, well... he's nuts."

Down the table the Duke was telling a lawyer joke to the Landgravine and the Vrakian Ambassador, at the expense of one of the other Macisikani delegates, who sighed and rolled his eyes. The clergyman, no, it was actually a clergywoman, was grinning at the unfortunate lawyer.

"So, Sir Ozymandius, tell me, do you have any children?" Aryet asked in a tone that was polite, but inquisitive.

Professor Ravenbrook enjoyed his dinner and watched the byplay. Like any good anthropologist, he had long ago learned that the best results came from careful observation that wasn't obvious.

After all, whenever you studied something, you changed it.

He took a sip of wine and then prepared to eat another slice of seafood.

Best not to let himself or his country be the agency that changed anything he decided.

The Landgravine just smiled at the lawyer joke. Apparently she wasn't fond of the topic herself. She turned and looked at the Proffesser. "Doctor Ravenbrooke, perhaps you could enlighten us on your next monograph? I did happen to see an article you helped to write for National Geographic recently did I not?"

Ozy seemed to reflect on that statement about all Imperial M.P.'s being nuts. He studied the man attempting to tell the future head of the Alconian Judicary a poor joke about lawyers and seriously did question the man's sanity.

The blue eyes went back to the Baroness when she asked about children. "Yes, my wife and I have two children. Mar is sixty and studying the twelve truths and Addie is eighty, presently working...well acutally I think Mav knowns where she is but not I." His paw gestured towards the Landgravine.

Tuyrt Ratyuig smiled politely as well with the lawyer joke. He was going to tell a particularily amusing one involving beheadings and homosexual monkeys but then remembered that their guests were not quite as…warlike…as most Klatchian states. He did recall hearing about the magazine National Geographic and offered up an opinion, hoping not to sound too foolish.

“Ah yes, I’ve heard of that magazine Duke deIntan. I daresay that they would be quite interested in the Klatchian animal and plantlife. Are you perchance a hunter?”

He then turned to the Professor.

“Oh! Please continue, sir.”

A quick flipper wave brought another glass of scotch.

Aryet followed Ozy's gaze and shrugged. "His wife is the Lady Chief Justice of the Council of Lords, Leader of the Lords Judicial; she's highest Judge in the Empire, and their second is the highest lawyer. Gives him a right to make those jokes I suppose..." she shrugged again. "But they can get so very bad..."

Down the table deIntan had smiled apologetically at the Professor, then answered Ratyuig's question. "I hawk every now and again, but that sort of thing I just don't have time for these days..." He then turned the full focus of his attention onto the Professor, adding "I'm sorry for interrupting Professor... please." He also took a drink of water; none of the Imperials in fact had ordered anything alcoholic.

Aryet nodded at Ozy's words. She frowned, seemed about to ask something, then suddenly changed what it was she was going to say. "The Twelve Truths? I don't believe I've heard the term before... might I inquire as to what they are?"

Sir Ozy became aware that the Imperial Priest had transferred her attention to him; the look was one of professional interest.

--------------------

OOC: (Just so you know I didn't change the character; http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=8629934&postcount=29, about a quarter of the way down)

Sir Ozy seemed to be amused by the question. "I am afraid that the journeys to finding the Truths are as important to understanding them. And without the Journey they would be as meaningless as the number fourty-two is to this conversation. But then is the number fourty-two meaningless?"

He turned to a steward and clapped his hands. "Please bring a peice of paper..." He pulled an ink pen out of his vest pocket and wrote on the sheet of paper. The gray fox folded it and then handed it over to the Baroness.

"This is the map to the start of the Journey to understand the Twelve Truths. Just as my father handed to me, well it was in Welsh. And I handed to my son."

It was a blank sheet of paper. Written on one side was the word Here on the otherside There. It was hard to tell by the facial expression of the fox if this was a joke, or if he was serious.

Aryet accepted the paper gravely, and examined it carefully, tracing one fingernail over the words.
"Interesting... so it's a theological matter then..." she mused to herself, apparently caught up in thought. If this is a joke, then it is in extremely poor taste she thought to herself. And he didn't actually answer the question I asked...
"Thank you Sir Ozymandius, though it appears that you have raised more questions than you answered," she pocketed the slip of paper. "In any case, it is our belief that everyone has their own path to the truth, whatever it may be. I however, I am a faithful daughter of our Holy Mother the Church."

Down the table the Duke and others were staring at the Professor expectantly, though the Duke was starting to look concerned.

The fox nodded his head, "Is not more questions the nature of any question of merit? However it is less theological and more philisophical in nature." He paused as the steward appeared with their food orders.

"I assume, Baroness that you refer to the Catholic Church, and not a sect of the Great Mother Goddess? "

Down the table the Duke and others were staring at the Professor expectantly, though the Duke was starting to look concerned.

Ravenbrooke had chosen to remain quite for the most part during dinner, listening and occasionaly making appropriate noises to let people know he was listening to them. The evening reminded him of a faculty dinner really, lots of undercurrents and everyone looking for missteps.

Who said college didn't prepare you for the world.

The Landgravine had put him on the spot though, so he had been talking a bit about his latest article. "Its nothing too scholarly Milady, just an article on New Cythnian religious beliefs and why they chose to 'liberate' us not long ago. All that work the government had me do postwar talking to the POWs came in handy for that. It did a lot though to confirm our believes in New Shiron that excessive religious zeal is a dangerous thing. It certainly brought the New Cynthians and a lot of my people to disaster."

He glanced over at the Baroness Aryet, "It would seem Milady, that your people have similar views on that as well?"

ooc
after reading the thread thoroughly, I didn't see a direct question, so winging it here

The Vrakian nodded thoughfully at the discussion of religious zeal. So far, and unbenownst to most outsiders, Vrak was experiencing a religious revival as well. The government kept a tight lid on internal news being leaked out but there was always a chance that some got out...

He looked around the table, especially at his fellow Klatchian members. No...he could detect nothing about his own state. But, should he venture his next question it could tip off what might be happening in Vrak?

He made the question sound as innocent as possible, suggesting a scholarly tone rather than betraying some personal trust.

"So, Professor," began the ambassador, "You are saying that New Cynthia based their war on religious beliefs?"

"So, Professor," began the ambassador, "You are saying that New Cynthia based their war on religious beliefs?"

"Yes your excellency, they did exactly that. They intended to not only avenge themselves for something our descendents did to them, but also to 'save' us. Or failing that, to cleanse us."

Ravenbrooke took a sip of wine before continueing. Observers wouldn't be able to help noticing how hard his eyes were. "Oddly enough, we didn't feel the need to embrace their cause."

He took a moment to visibly control himself, forcing the hardness from his eyes and relaxing the tightness in his mouth. Sighing a little, he continued.

"Even with the consequences that are bound to have occured upline to them, some of us are concerned that they may try again some day. Which is why even know our starship is on our way to the planet they came from, to disrupt the timeline even further."

Aryet smiled tightly.
"I'm afraid you assume incorrectly Sir Ozymandius. We are Orthodox, not Catholic. A thousand or so years of development in isolation from other churches means we have our own peculiar take on it, the ordination of women for example, but our development is from the Eastern Church," here Aryet smiled sardonically. "Interestingly enough both east and west churches refer to themselves as the Catholic Church. In any case, assuming that we are Roman Catholic is a common mistake to make, but try not to do it with the senior clergy; they are a little touchy about it."

The Baroness listened to the Professor's question, then shook her head.
"Hardly. Zeal is like a knife, or rather a chainsaw. Politically a very useful thing, socially, a powerful force, but dangerous if not handled correctly. In any case, devotion varies greatly, and is shown in many different ways."

The Imperials noticed the steward setting down the food, and the Duke turned towards the Landgravine.
"Excuse me milady, but do you mind if...?" he pointed at the Macisikani priestess.

Sir Ozy nodded, "I had never heard the Orthadox Church refer to themselves as the Mother Church before. I had always assumed it was more a reference to Church in Rome and your Saint Peter...the christian faith is so fractured I have never quite comprehended it."


The Landgravine raised an eyebrow at the request. "I am afraid that we Klatchians tend to avoid religion in State matters. I have no objection, but you have a Militant Quaker..."

She pointed to herself..."And an pure philosopher..." She pointed at Ozy, " I am not sure what the others are or are not religious wise. And we are guests of the King of Vrak who is Anagostic."

She looked over at the Vrakian Ambassador. "So unless the Ambassador has an objection, you may attempt to say Grace without offending anyone at the table."

They can't be that insular not to realize that trying to say Grace in this type of diplomatic setting is a mess? went through her mind as she looked about the table again.

The Vrakian merely nodded to the Landgravine, indicating with a gesture that it doesn't matter to him if grace was said or not. Being a diplomat, he was accustomed to different cultures. Besides, all this talk of religion piqued his curiousity. He just hoped that it wouldn't be a long affair since his rumbling stomach could perhaps be heard by nearby guests.

"Like I said," Aryet replied to Sir Ozy's observation blandly. "A thousand years of divergent development have changed quite a few things."

The priestess smiled at the Landgravine, giving her the eerie impression that her thoughts had been heard.
"Our gracious hosts have gone to a lot of trouble preparing this meal," she said. "for which we thank them. Let's not let it get cold."

"A peculiar tradition from the Northern Empire," Aryet explained between mouthfuls. "The most senior member of clergy present thanks the hosts for the meal, and then we dig in. In the Central and Southern nations, as well as the East, no-one says Grace, at least not since the Famines of the 1580's. They only do that in the West, and even then, only on extremely formal occasions."
"Anyone who says Grace misses out on their food," the Duke interjected. "Intan, which is as far north as you can go and still be in the Imperial Kingdom, was particularly hard hit; according to my family's records, the Duchy lost a full half of its population in about four years. Grace was abandoned as an unnecessary delay before eating."
"They don't even say Grace in the Temple City," the priestess added. "Not even in the presence of the Cenobriach himself."
"The Cenobriach is another title that the King-Emperor holds," Aryet said by way of explanation. "Head of Church and State, though he gives priority to the latter."

The Landgravine nodded and took a sip of her wine. Her eyes locked to the priestess. Well little one if you can read my mind your not leaving this building alive.

Sir Ozy shrugged, as though religion in of itself was a matter of little concern to him. He just began to dine on the lobster tail that had been placed before him.

Victoria, after giving the Orthodox priestess one last hard glance turned to Sir Ozy, "Ah, Ozy how bad was the Red Plauge? I mean I have heard stories."

"Quite, it wipped out most of the human population within the islands. Actually only a few small settlements on isolated locations survived. Those were the years of the Second Evil, when Descare again was attempting to return to this world. I beleive the Vrakians refered to it as the Orc Invasion, when the Orc hordes attempted to invade the western Klatch from the north."

The fox paused again, "However that is a bit before even my time my lady. Before the settlement of Zeeland by the Knootians and the Roosevelts."