NationStates Jolt Archive

His Grace the 17th Lord Salisthain of Rebry, Under-Secretary of the Realm for Foreign Affairs, Antewarden of the Frendlen Marches, Commissioner for Non-Essential Non-Urgent Administrative Duties, or Jonathan to his friends, sat down to compose the letter. He had been mulling away the time this particular day trying to find the perfect word choice that would instantly captivate and charm foreign dignitaries into the lap of the Delassinans. What he had found out during this intense introspection was that he was not a particularly good writer, or one given to flashes of lexical inspiration.

The First Lord of the Realm invites you, and indeed welcomes you, foreign dignitary, to a ball celebrating Delassina's new committment to forging a new path with it's overseas friends. We are entirely sure that we can take this opportunity to form new partnerships in an era of exciting progress.

Not a work of art, he thought. But functional, at least. Send it to the bods in the civil service, he thought, they'd probably have someone who can take that short note and turn it into a thousand word enthusement filled with needless and unnecessary prose, then get the cocky little bastard to copy it out a few more times and send those copies. Or a few hundred. However vindictive his Grace felt.

Excellent. This job was getting a little better.

(OOC: All people welcome, of course. As you can probably tell, the Delassinans (or at least, the Delassinans that matter) take great stock upon precedent, tradition, and ettiquette - even where it does not seem to matter at all. It may be at this point worthy to mention that a significant minority of the ruling classes are, in fact, ex-assassins who have done well in service of Delassinan interests - this should tell you at least something about the longevity of the leaders, the aforementioned First Lord of the Realm, and the importance of reasonable and rational debate upon the fiendishly complex political system. Respectively long unless pushed, and absolutely none.)

Runs-With-The-Crimson-Clouds was starting to get bored. Not that she didn't like her position; Crimson-Clouds was second-in-command of the Wind Demon government. As Vice-Premier, She enjoyed most of the perks of the Premier's position, with roughly half of the headaches. But, like all members of her race, Crimson-Clouds found herself subject to periodic bouts of incurable wanderlust. Right now, her natural instinct to flee her office was beginning to wax, manifesting in an odd mixture of irritation and boredom. Right now this mixture was causing her tail to twitch and her horns to itch, gestures she made no effort to repress.

Tapping her finely manicured nails on her sea-gray aetherstone desk, she nibbled on the remains of a fruit bagel while glancing boredly at the stack of papers her secretary had left her. Once more, the domestic papers looked decidedly uninteresting. Opting to ignore her domestic duties for now, she flipped through to the foreign reports, which she had requested from the undermanned Foreign Office several days ago. Usually, the few epistles received by the Wind Demon government were garbled letters and pointless proclamations mismailed to their nation-state by clueless foreign bureaucrats; Tailed Wind Demons cared little for human affairs, and seldom bothered to write back. As their existence was largely unknown to most tailless peoples, their government seldom received any messages directed toward them.

Ignoring the bulk of the messages as 'too boring' to merit her precious time, Crimson-Clouds searched for something that would provide a good excuse for her to leave the country. After a bit of stammering and searching, she finally chanced upon a document from some 17th Lord of Something in a nation Crimson-Clouds had never heard of. It was a very long document, filled with lots of needless and unneccessary prose, none of which had been translated very gracefully into her native language. She gathered it was an invitation to a ball.

Aha! A ball! Crimson Clouds' mind raced. Something filled with strange, regal people in fancy dresses, held in a faraway land! Somehow, the idea made her feel like a little girl. She gathered that the human nation hosting this ball was doing so to improve relationships with other nations. In the last campaign the Premier had made better relations with other lands a vague part of the party platform. Tailed Wind Demons hadn't forged a useful relationship with anyone else in a long, long, time. And, attending a diplomatic ball was something the Premier couldn't do himself; he'd be far too busy, and would be even more conspicuous at a ball than Crimson-Clouds. And, unlike many Wind Demons, Crimson-Clouds did not completely despise humans; as such she was a good choice for any such mission.

Grinning with a dash of mischief, the Vice-Premier waved at one of her interns, who was presently carrying a flight of books through the hallway. "Excuse me..." she asked the Intern as sweetly as possible. "Could you please find the U.N. Report on... oh... where was it... Delassina! I'd like the UN report on Delassina, and other data available on that nation." After a second of thought she added, "Oh... and when you're done with that... could you please find me a good tailor somewhere?"

The blue-skinned intern simply blinked at her, twitching her dark-furred tail. "Delassina? Tailor?" the intern asked.

***** *****

Several days later, a strange letter arrived in Delassina, translated into the local language,

http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/tailed_wind_demons.jpg

FROM: The Office of the Premier, Most Serene Repbulic of Tailed Wind Demons,
TO: The Foreign Office of the Grand Duchy of Delassina,

With the blessings of the Nine Winds, in Open Benevolence, with Feathers Resplendant,

This office has received your invitation to a ball to celebrate your new commitment to forging overseas relations. This office is pleased, and extends our appendage in acceptance. This office has dispatched our Vice-Premier, Runs-With-The-Crimson-Clouds, to represent our Nation at this event, as the Premier himself has too many appendages to dance properly, and may not fit inside the door.

Be it known that the Nomadic Peoples of Tailed Wind Demons wish well upon you and your nation, and hope that our presence will be welcome at this social function.

Be it also known that the office of the Premier is feeling uncannily generous today, and as such wishes to bring a gift to the tailless leadership of Delassina, to be presented at this function. However, as the Premier and the Foreign Office of Tailed Wind Demons are unfamiliar with the customs prevalent in your nation-state, the Premier wishes to know what manner of gift would be found appropriate, and would be welcomed by the First Lord of the Realm.

We await your response, and shall arrive at the opportune hour, at the waxing of the third celestial sphere.

OFFICE OF THE PREMIER, SPEAKER OF THE WIND,

Hazh-Ken-Rev, Premier
Runs-With-The-Crimson-Clouds, Vice-Premier

MOST SERENE REPUBLIC of TAILED WIND DEMONS,
national title subject to change at any given moment