NationStates Jolt Archive

ooc: A (hopefully) more successful version of my original thread
http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=516293&highlight=kaitan-leagran

ic: The Seanad, Commonwealth of Peoples Administered District of Freetown

As ‘next Tuesday’ approached, realization began to dawn on the three clergyman who constituted the leadership of the Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran that response to their original advert had been…less than fruitful.

No one, not one Royal, had applied for the job. No Princes, Grand Dukes, Archdukes, Emirs or anything. Questions, needless to say, were asked.

“Whose idea was it to put an advert in the newspaper anyway?” asked the Moderator of the Presbyterian Synod, ignoring the fact that it had been his, “A member of a Royal Family would never allow themselves to answer a response in a public newspaper.”

“And whoever wrote it,” thundered the Catholic Bishop of Freetown, “Seems to have confused ‘dramatic and eye-catching’ for ‘taking the piss.’”

“Regardless of what occurred in the past,” said the Bishop of An Bealach Bui, “How are we going to proceed?”

Needless to say, the second attempt at gaining a King for the Kingdom would be much more formal, and would use the flock of legal advisors that had accompanied the Commonwealth of Peoples-Fiefdom Reconstruction Effort.

To that end, therefore, a letter was sent to every Royal House, ruling or non-ruling, that existed with the following message:

http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g83/tsarnoel/DeasrargleRoyalSeal.png
The Provisional Government of the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran

To [The title of each King or Head of the Royal/Imperial House was adopted for individual letters. The Emperor of Pantocratoria, for example, would receive a letter addressed to His Most Catholic and Imperial Majesty, while the King of the Resurgent Dream would thusly be addressed to His High Majesty, and so on. This took some time to investigate every Monarchical Title, but the Provisional Government hoped it would be worth while]…,

As you may, or may not know, the island of Kaitan-Leagran has recently adopted a Provisional Government which shall precipitate free and open elections and the progression of our society from sectarian violence to peaceful co-habitation.

The Provisional Government has acknowledged the will of the peoples who, while expressing the desire for Liberty and Fraternity, wish these ideals to take place with the Tradition and Majesty that only a Monarchy can provide. The draft constitution, to that end, has dubbed the new political entity that shall encompass our island the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran.

Lacking a native Royal Family, the Provisional Government had before it a number of options. We could create a new Imperial Line in the same manner as the House of Bonaparte or Bokassa, yet issues in legitimacy cloud these Houses and sectarian squabbling could occur as to the candidature.

The Second Option, and the option that the Provisional Government has chosen, is to invite members of foreign Royal/Imperial Houses to assume the mantle of Kingship in Kaitan-Leagran.

To that end, therefore, we would politely enquire as to whether your Family/House has in its possession any persons that might be available for this opportunity and would enjoy the possibility of being King of the Kaitan-Leagrans.

Thank you in advance for any assistance lent,

The Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran.

To - The Provisional Government of the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran
From - Prince Arthus, Grand Duke of Artesia, The Amazonian Empire

I Prince Arthus, Grand Duke of Artesia, first born son of Her Most Royal Majesty Queen Cynthia of The Amazonian Empire, Wish to apply for the position of King of Kaitan-Leagran.

The Amazonian Empire is a matriarchal society and as such I am not in line to the Amazonian throne, even though I am the eldest child.

A bit about myself,

Name – Arthus Ambrosias
Age – 28 years
Height – 6’7”
Martial Status - Single
Mother - Queen Cynthia of the Amazonian Empire
Father – The late Prince Marcus, Grand Duke of Artesia
Education – Bachelor of political sciences, Royal Amazonian Military College
Military Rank – Major

If you require any further information, please do not hesitate to contact me.

Yours truly,
( Signed )

HMRH Prince Arthus

To: Prince Arthus, Grand Duke of Artesia, The Amazonian Empire

Your Highness,

Thank you for expressing an interest in the recently created Throne of Kaitan-Leagran.

To that end, therefore, please find enclosed a small information sheet about out beautiful island.

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12015684&postcount=7

The Provisional Government would also be delighted if you could attend an 'Open Day' of sorts in order that you can better access the Kingdom and for a more formal interview to take place.

The directions are:
Journey to the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran can be a complicated procedure, but one that we hope is soon rectified. The Dedicated Traveller has a number of options available. The quickest method is by International Flight to New Amsterdam, Capital of the United States of Laneria. There, upon presentation of travel documents, the Commonwealth Navy will transport the traveller by military helicopter to Castle Freetown, the seat of Government and (eventual) Royal Palace.
The method for those afraid of flying involves obtaining the ferry to Port Sunlight, Capital of the Serene Democratic Fiefdom and journeying by a Merchant Fleet Vessel to the Fiefdom Naval Group off-shore from Kaitan-Leagran's Capital.
It is our intention to begin work on a new International Airport as soon as funds become available.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/05/Flag_of_Libya.svg/125px-Flag_of_Libya.svg.png
The Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran
A Free and Righteous People, Bound by Chains No Longer.

We hope to see you in the very near future.

We remain your Most Royal Highness' most obedient servants,

[IMG]http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g83/tsarnoel/DeasrargleRoyalSeal.png

His most Midlonic Majesty Hykar II of the Greater Kingdom of Midlonia read the letter with a raise eyebrow, he then turned to Gregory Sturm, the 25 year old son of Aslmadeus Sturm, the Supreme Commander of the Midlonian Armed Forces.

"You got one of these too?" Hykar asked with a slightly amused grin.

"Only me, and the first born of the Hastings, Ferres and Bullen Houses too, the lesser royal houses haven't received them." The four principle houses of the 9 Lordships of Midlonia had received these strange letters.

"Well," Hykar spoke with a slight sigh and sank back in the high-backed green leather chair by the fireplace in the Castilian of Swadlincote, “I’ve already spoken to the first-borns of the other three houses. The Hastings remain too loyal to the House of Swadlincote to consider it, Ferres has its own land carved out in the entirety of Monte-Marte, and Bullen enjoys Mars and Neptune as their holdings enough to not bother with anything bound here.” He tapped his foot on the ground signifying Earth.

“Me? I couldn’t possibly…” Gregory began, his blonde eyebrows shooting up almost into his similarly coloured fringe, his pale grey eyes going wide with fear.

“You ran that island in Birchester very well for a number of years before giving it over to your brother.”

“Well. True. I suppose…” Gregory trailed off quietly.

“So why not apply? Take your wife, and child with you. Rule a nation, take the reigns of power, all that jazz.” Hykar chuckled with a slight lean back.

Gregory remained silent for a while as his old childhood friend watched on, almost as if he could see the wheels grinding and the weights of what he could do and should do came into his mind.

“Not trying to get rid of me?” Gregory asked at last.

“Giving you a chance to do something akin to my job.” Replied Hykar. “You’re. What’s it now? 5th in line to this throne? I’m only a year older than you and I don’t plan on dying any day soon, nor does Henry Hastings, or the others for that matter.” He replied with a shrug and a wave of a hand.

“Well, I can give it a shot I suppose.” Gregory replied with a slight shrug and a thin smile.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v160/Midlonia/Midlonianflag.png

Letter to the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran’s Provincial Government.

It has come to the attention of our most prestigious Midlonian Royal Household, The House of Sturm, that the position of Monarch is currently vacant in the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran. As such we wish to offer our candidate, Gregory Sturm, the first-born in the House, he is only Twenty-Five years old, and well versed in formalities and the ceremonial and more physical workings of state. The House of Sturm is also savvy to the art of business and owns a number of large companies, which provide Midlonia with Transportation, Construction, Power Generation, Steel Making, Arms Manufacturing and Foodstuffs. As such they would be looking to also invest in the Kingdom itself as part of the offer placed in our ‘Candidate’ for the position.

We await your answer.

~Aslmadeus Sturm, Supreme Commander of His Midlonic Majesties Armed Forces, Head of the House of Sturm.~

OOC: Awww, too bad I was too busy with exams and such to notice the first thread. It was much better :( Oh well.

* * *

From: Mikhail II Shakhovskoy (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Mikhail_II_Shakhovskoy)
To: Vethara Shakhovskaya (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Vethara_Shakhovskaya)
Subject: Queen of Kaitan-Leagran?
Encryption: Confidential

Dear Sister,

The Household Secretary has informed me of the reception of this (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=12302615&postcount=1) letter. Apparently, a Christian island-kingdom with an islamist-green flag and a shady coat of arms needs a King or a Queen.

Fancy yourself for the job?

Brotherly yours,
Mikhail

P.S. How are Zoria in general and Lorelei in particular doing?



From: Vethara Shakhovskaya
To: Mikhail II Shakhovskoy
Subject: Re: Queen of Kaitan-Leagran?
Encryption: Confidential

Dear Brother,

Zoria in general and Lorelei in particular are my creations, so they can be nothing else but perfect. All of my legendary modesty has gone into that statement.

As far as Kaitan-Leagran is concerned, I believe I have many enough titles and duties for you to dump even more on me. Please leave your little sister some breathing space, if you will? It is also worth nothing that the island-kingdom has not contacted me in particular with the offer, but chose to issue an invitation at general. This bears testimony to the fact they will not particularly regret the absence of my name on the applications list. I am sure they will find an appropriate King or Queen from amongst the potential pretenders.

Sisterly yours,
Vethara



From: Mikhail II Shakhovskoy
To: Vethara Shakhovskaya
Subject: Re: Queen of Kaitan-Leagran?
Encryption: Confidential

I recognise my modest and pragmatic sister indeed. I have decided to forward the letter to our dear aunts and uncles, cousins and cousines. Let us see if any are interested, and I am certain Viktor shall find the idea interesting, what with his love for all things fancy.

As a reminder, I expect you back in Vigvar by March. This is when that Research Group on the Imperial Reform is supposed to hand in its first research results. And as the ruler of a proposed Imperial State, your presence shall be required.

Mikhail II
Shokath-Kshas



From: Vethara Shakhovskaya
To: Mikhail II Shakhovskoy
Subject: Re: Queen of Kaitan-Leagran?
Encryption: Confidential

Your soon-to-be Imperial and Royal Majesty can rest assured of my continued punctuality.

Vethara
Archduchess of Taraskovya

To - The Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran
From - Prince Arthus, Grand Duke of Artesia, The Amazonian Empire
I would be honored to attend the open day and partake in an interview

Respectively Yours

HMRH Prince Arthus
The Provisional Government would also be delighted if you could attend an 'Open Day' of sorts in order that you can better access the Kingdom and for a more formal interview to take place.

The directions are:

Quote:
Journey to the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran can be a complicated procedure, but one that we hope is soon rectified. The Dedicated Traveller has a number of options available. The quickest method is by International Flight to New Amsterdam, Capital of the United States of Laneria. There, upon presentation of travel documents, the Commonwealth Navy will transport the traveller by military helicopter to Castle Freetown, the seat of Government and (eventual) Royal Palace.
The method for those afraid of flying involves obtaining the ferry to Port Sunlight, Capital of the Serene Democratic Fiefdom and journeying by a Merchant Fleet Vessel to the Fiefdom Naval Group off-shore from Kaitan-Leagran's Capital.
It is our intention to begin work on a new International Airport as soon as funds become available.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedi..._Libya.svg.png
The Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran
A Free and Righteous People, Bound by Chains No Longer. [/QUOTE]

To assist the Kaitan-Leagrans and in coordination with the Provisional Government, the International Assistance Agency of the Western Atlantic had been formed, sensitive to Kaitan-Leagran's request that only local powers be involved. The IAA worked with the Government of Kaitan-Leagran to help the peace process, democratization and the formation of a constitutional monarchy. It also helped deliver humanitarian assistance to the long deprived people of Kaitan-Leagran itself. Humanitarian deliveries were protected from possible attack by lightly armed peacekeepers provided by the Commonwealth Defense Force at the request of the Kaitan-Leagran Provisional Government.

His Highness, Prince Arthur, a First Lieutenant in the Danaan Army assigned to duty with the CDF, was commanding one of the units doing just that in the Protestant part of the island. He had spoken to his family briefly since the Kaitan-Leagrans had begun their search for a king but he hadn't been able to get much information. The Head of the Commonwealth and the heads of the various other dynasties within the Confederation wouldn't send someone immediately, as several other countries had. This sort of thing required a great deal of consideration. Arthur just hoped that nothing was lost through hesitation.

Arthur was not exceptionally religious but he was observant and had been attending the local church in the area where he was stationed on a near weekly basis. However, as he pulled up this Sunday, he couldn't help being a little nervous. He was sure to be asked questions that he didn't yet know the answers to and, worse, some questions that he could answer.

OOC: Awww, too bad I was too busy with exams and such to notice the first thread. It was much better :( Oh well.

* * *

ooc: Don't I know it. I put alot of effort into getting that advert to be as crappy as possible. But then, no one ever posted.

*shakes fist at heavens* Curse you NSers, curse you all to Hades!

I feel I should also explain why the islamist-green flag and a shady coat of arms

The reason behind my blatant theft of Libya's flag and coat of arms is due to my thinking that, since they can probably agree on so little, the three main groups on the island could probably only agree on a single colour for the flag and absolutely no design.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v160/Midlonia/Midlonianflag.png

Letter to the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran’s Provincial Government.

It has come to the attention of our most prestigious Midlonian Royal Household, The House of Sturm, that the position of Monarch is currently vacant in the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran. As such we wish to offer our candidate, Gregory Sturm, the first-born in the House, he is only Twenty-Five years old, and well versed in formalities and the ceremonial and more physical workings of state. The House of Sturm is also savvy to the art of business and owns a number of large companies, which provide Midlonia with Transportation, Construction, Power Generation, Steel Making, Arms Manufacturing and Foodstuffs. As such they would be looking to also invest in the Kingdom itself as part of the offer placed in our ‘Candidate’ for the position.

We await your answer.

~Aslmadeus Sturm, Supreme Commander of His Midlonic Majesties Armed Forces, Head of the House of Sturm.~

http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g83/tsarnoel/DeasrargleRoyalSeal.png
The Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran

Your Royal Highness,

We are delighted that you have accepted our invitation for the proposed Throne of Kaitan-Leagran. We hope that, along with other possible suitors, you may attend a day of short interviews in order to allow you to ask more detailed questions of our island and culture, while allowing us to 'get to know you better' in this regard.

To that end, therefore, we would be honoured if you would attend a small open day to better establish the above points. The Government of Midlonia already possesses a great deal of knowledge about our fair isle, but please accept this list of travel instructions. Unless, of course, you wish to appear off our coast in a submarine. Both routes are acceptable, given a degree of warning.
We shall hopefully see you soon,

Kind regards,
His Grace, The Bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Freetown
His Grace, The Bishop of the Pantocratorian Orthodox Diocese of An Bealach Bui
The Reverend Moderator of the Presbyterian Synod of Freetown.

* * * *

ooc: I'm going to leave the ol' 'arrival posts' up to you. I know that Midlonia can't really see the point, and I respect that, but if you want your Prince to arrive in suitable pomp and majesty then I will RP that as much as possible (considering how crappy Kaitan-Leagran is).

* * * *

Although the rest of the Royals had been invited to attend a specific day of interviews, Prince Arthur of the Danaan High Kingdom possessed something of an advantage in that he was already in the Kingdom when the call went out for a king.

That meant that, unlike the others, the Provisional Government already had the ability to have an informal 'chat' with the young royal. Like most things, this caused something of a debate among the three ethno-religious groups. Most accepted that His Grave, Bishop Stylianos of An Bealach Bui, was the most sociable of the three leading clergyman. Yet the young Prince was stationed in a Protestant area, and that meant that the Reverend Darragh Fitzjohns was the ultimate winner.

Gaining both Peacekeeper and Military Permission, the First Lieutant was invited to the office of the Moderator in order to 'talk through the issues of New Deasrargle prior to the open day.'

The young prince's response was, needless to say, anxiously awaited.

There was no great pomp surrounding Prince Arthur's arrival at the office of the Moderator. In fact, there was almost none. The Prince arrived in a military jeep driven by one of the usual military drivers. He was wearing his dress uniform which had recently been cleaned and pressed. He had gotten a haircut the day before and shaved that morning. He looked like a well-bred and well-dressed young officer arriving for a formal interview, nothing more and nothing less.

Arthur disembarked from the jeep and headed into the office with a precise, military step. His face was serious and unexpressive and his blue eyes were alert. He took off his cap upon passing through the door and tucked it under his arm in a precise, military style. He announced his presence to the receptionist with an appropriate exchange of pleasantries.

When he finally entered the office proper, Arthur had the same serene but tightly disciplined expression that he'd been wearing since his arrival. He inclined his head politely to the reverend. "Good morning, Reverend. I understand you wanted to speak with me."

ooc: whoops, I must have read your previous post but somehow it didn't regsiter. This now calls for a thread that warps THE FABRIC OF TIME.

ic:
Sunday Morning, New Donaghadee Presbyterian Church, Self-Defined Protestant Demise of Kaitan-Leagran

The town to which the young Prince Arthur was stationed was, later historians would argue, one of those towns that had maintained Protestant supremacy over the island for forty years. New Donaghadee possessed a local market, distinguishing it from the small farming villages that surrounded it, yet it couldn't be argued that it was significantly larger than any of the communities that lay in the vicinity. New Donaghadee was mostly small white-washed homes, clinging to the hillside on which the town sat and home of hardy peasant stock that attempted to make a living off the difficult soil. There were a number of larger buildings, including the old Finaran Police Station that now housed the peacekeepers of the Commonwealth. By far the largest building, though, was the local chapel. It was a large neo-gothic structure, built out of the local black volcanic rock but a clear imitation of a sandstone church in rural England. A chapel had existed on the site for over one hundred years, and elements of the earlier building could still be seen in the walls of the north transept. The present structure, however, had started life as St. Malachy's Catholic Church in a remarkable piece of Finaran gall. Needless to say, the walls of the chapel were still pockmarked with bullet holes from the various militia attacks that assaulted this holy building, before the chapel was returned to its original use after the Finaran withdrawal of 1963.

As Prince Arthur made his way through the Western doors of the chapel, a scene that would have been instantly recognizable to anyone who lived in Protestant Northern Europe confronted him. Lintels, which once supported statues of St. Malachy and the Holy Mother, were now bare. Where once colour and incense filled the nave, now only the whitewashed walls and black volcanic stone remained. The great altar of the church had been smashed long ago, and a simple wooden table stood in its place. In fact, the only original thing that had survived unaltered was the great stone pulpit of the old Catholic church.

Despite the chapel’s great size in proportion to the size of the town, it was still mostly full. In a shocking display of small-town cultural belligerence, nearly everyone turned to see the young Prince enter. Most people, of course, didn't know he was a young Prince at all. People near the Prince, almost instinctively, flicked from English to Gaelic (in hopes that the royal would not have been able to understand).
Despite the chapel’s great size in proportion to the size of the town, it was still mostly full. In a shocking display of small-town cultural belligerence, nearly everyone turned to see the young Prince enter. Most people, of course, didn't know he was a young Prince at all, he was just that cocky army officer who attended the service. People near the Prince, almost instinctively, flicked from English to Gaelic (in hopes that the royal would not have been able to understand).

Though they lacked manners, the people of New Donaghadee were certainly warming to the young army officer, in their own way. Most gave him a short nod (high praise indeed from the hardy peasant folk) and most accepted that, by the nature of his attendence, this foreigner was at least 'one of them' when it came to great divisions of Christendom.

Some, though, went further. Familar faces soon made their way through the congregation, engaging the Prince in the sort of trivial banter that accompanies such situations. Others showed their displeasure at his presence, however, and pointedly refused to recognise his existence.

Despite the local market, New Donaghadee was still an insular sort of place. Gossip, such as it was, concerned local affairs. Despite being a stronghold of the Second Protestant Republic, most people in New Donaghadee had never seen a Catholic or Orthodox. That, of course, didn't matter. Being right was the key point.

Some, however, did hear things through the proverbial grapevine. The local Minister was in regular contact with Freetown, for example, and certain wealthier farmers (though, again, a relative prosperity) gathered news from surrounding towns and villages. Most people in the chapel knew of the competition for the Throne, though very few knew of Arthur's nomination. The polite conversation continued, therefore, until a particularly cantankerous voice rose above the soft conversation...

"I hear," said an elderly farmer whose views on the meddling outsider were well-known, "that you have put yourself forward for the Throne, Prince Arthur"

A silence fell over the congregation as they awaited the young man's response...

Monday Morning, the following day

If New Donaghadee Presbyterian Church had been, in the great Reformation tradition, a Catholic church that had been converted into a Presbyterian chapel, then Church House in Freetown positively oozed Protestantism from every nook and cranny. In the competitive world of Kaitan-Leagran religiosity, the Reformed Faith's emphasis on simplicity and plainness had been, well, politely put aside. Church House stood across from the truly massive Freetown Central Presbyterian Church, a structure that was wholly unworthy of the title of ‘church’; it was more akin to a cathedral without a bishop.

As Prince Arthur disembarked from his jeep and made his way up the steps to the entrance, statues of the great heroes of the Reformation seemingly watched him. Calvin, Luther, Melanchthon and Zwingli (among others) all glared into the dusty street below. As he entered the great entrance lobby of Church House, the 'memorialisation' of dead men continued. In golden mosaics across the length and breadth of the large room, the story was told of the great moments in Finaran/Kaitan-Leagran Protestantism (until, that is, the room was built during the early twentieth century). The young Prince, on his way to the Moderator's office, was directed past the great Assembly Room of the Synod. Important religious buildings, such as the Freetown Dome (the more widely-used name for the Church opposite) and Church House had survived the endless years of civil war thanks to their importance to the three ethno-religious groups. The old Parliament buildings, in contrast, had been home to flocks of seagulls since the early 1970s. Church House, for the most part, still shone with late Victorian splendor. It was there, in the ornate pews of the Assembly Room, that the great decisions of New Deasrargle had been formulated.

That said, the young Prince would have noticed signs of decay. Try as they might, the current generation of Protestant Leadership possessed great difficulties in maintaining the building. Great holes existed in the plasterwork along some corridors, and dark floral wallpaper hung off some of the walls. Worse was to follow though, as scaffolding that, it would appear to the young Prince, was constructed out of driftwood supported some corridors. Some corridors had simply become inaccessible following the collapse of their ceiling. Even here, at the headquarters of Protestant power, the poverty of the newly declared kingdom was apparent for all to see.

Finally, after a somewhat winding route (the original, and quicker, route was now blocked when the main staircase collapsed thanks to dry rot), Prince Arthur appeared in the office of the Moderator. That, at least, was still a grand affair with an excellent view of Freetown Dome and what was left of the skyline of Freetown. The moderator himself was a small man, with thinning hair plastered rather impotently across a baldhead. In that sense, the Moderator was not dissimilar in appearance to George Begala, though whereas the Ambassador appeared as a sweating bureaucrat, the Reverend Fitzjohns was more of a snake oil salesman.

Rising as the Prince entered his office, the Moderator wore the dark Geneva gown that was the standard of the Reformed Clergy.

"Your Royal Highness," began Rev. Fitzjohns, "Thank you for coming here today. Pray, be seated."
After the Royal had sat, the clergyman began.
"I did indeed invite your Highness to Church House today in order to...better acquaint yourself to the Provisional Government and vice versa.
As you know, a number of candidates have put themselves forward for the post of King. Such a role, needless to say, will be a complicated and difficult task. But we are finally on the road to recovery. Tell me, your Highness, how much do you know of New Deasrargle, I mean Kaitan-Leagran? I believe that you are stationed in [glances at a piece of paper on desk] New Donaghadee. How have you found your experience of stout Reformed hospitality?"

Prince Arthur wondered, not for the first time, why he came to church here and why his nation was even here. They had been invited whose problems were in no sense their responsibility on the promise that the local groups would create a meaningful democracy for all the island's people, a goal towards which virtually no real work had been done. And at this particular congregation there was almost no spirit of Christian fellowship or even common courtesy. Arthur wondered how it was possible to have such distrust of foreigners and such insularism in a nation whose problems were all entirely internal. Nonetheless, he just smiled politely at the old man. "You heard incorrectly, sir. I have done no such thing nor do I expect to do any such thing, barring some unforeseen circumstance." And with that he took his seat.

...

"I can't complain." Prince Arthur said deceptively although not quite falsely. "We have managed to help a lot of people put their lives back in order. We've constructed new homes and delivered a large amount of food, water, medicine, clothing and agricultural supplies, as well as some toys for the children. I would like to hear more of the Provisional Government, however. It seems quite hard to acquire detailed information. Has much progress been made in writing a constitution?"

Palace Quarter, Istanbul, Turkey, Khailfah al Muslimeen

Dr. Maxwell was in the main closet frantically packing his bags, his back to the door. His wife Irene entered the room without him noticing.

“James, what are you doing?” she asked.

“Packing for a business trip, why?”

“James, you are not going to go to Kaitan-Leagran, pretend crazy Eyes is the great grand son of the Emperor of United States, and try an install him as King.”

Dr. Maxwell turned around to face his wife.

"That is so ridiculous I can't even look at you right now. What makes you think I would even do something like that?!"

“I found these crudely drawn plans…”

Irene held up a sheet of white construction paper. In crayon was scribbled a stick figure labeled “Crazy Eyes, great grand son of Emperor Norton I,” and an arrow pointed at a circle labeled “Kaitan-Leagran.”

“Oh,” said Maxwell. “Okay then.”

http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f63/ValerianEmpire/CoA.png

To: The Provisional Government of the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran

From: His Most August and Imperial Majesty Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven

Isangrad, Valerian State, Magnus Valerius

Salutations, most esteemed Kaitan-Leagrians. I, His Imperial Majesty Tsar Alexander III, would like to extend the greetings of Magnus Valerius to you and your peoples. I have received word that your new nation is in need of a strong ruler and a foreign dynastic ruler to create unity within your fledgling nation. I have a possible candidate for your nation in the form of my son, Prince Peter (from Valerian, 'Pyetr') Alexandrovich. He is a young lad, but he is my second son and has little chance of succeeding me to the throne (his elder brother Ivan Alexandrovich will have that honor). Prince Peter has the pomp of a royal diplomat and the skills and will to be a leader.

Prince Peter has just turned 16, and thus is open for marriage opportunities that you may arrange for him if you elect him as your king. Perhaps the melding of a Valerian man and a woman from Kaitan-Leagran will forge a lasting dynasty that combines both of the strengths of both of our nations.

I will be sending Prince Peter to your nation for a possible rendezvous with your interim government, and then he will be honored to be your guest. As a sign of Valerian friendship, he will bring some gifts from our nation upon his arrival for your provisional government.

Please, feel free to contact me on any information I would need to know.

Most Honorably Yours,

His Imperial Majesty Tsar Alexander III of House Borivich-Vassilakos-Seleukios
Emperor of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven, Lord Protector of Baden, Grand Prince of Vedus, et. al.

-------

With a letter send to the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran, Prince Peter began packing his clothes and supplies to get ready for a trip abroad and for a possible long stay in foreign lands. Prince Peter made sure to bring some of the finest Valerian wines and rums along with him. He was only sixteen, but the drinking age laws in Magnus Valerius are rather lax (especially for a member of The Imperial Family), and a teenager who looks like he could drink responsibly will be able to carry alcohol around...

"Well, I'm off. Goodbye, Isangrad," Peter said to himself as he went off with his courtiers (which included some friends from high school) and his bodyguards as they boarded a ship to begin their journey to Kaitan-Leagran.

ooc:

You chaps do realise, don't you, that you are applying for the post of a constitutional monarch and, as such, you're reigning but not ruling. The actual business of state will be dealt with by...er...me, as the elected government. You get to do the king-ly stuff of opening schools and visiting troops and such.

Just thought I should double-check. Carry on all.

and visiting troops and such.

OOC: The island actually has TROOPS? o.o

OOC:

That's fine, lol.

...But that doesn't mean reactionary coups aren't possible now, aren't they? ;)

OOC: The island actually has TROOPS? o.o


ooc: Well, for troops read 'collection of armed 12-year olds' and schools read 'heaps of burning rumble.'

Though I suppose they will have troops one day, in the distant future.

Prince Arthur wondered, not for the first time, why he came to church here and why his nation was even here. They had been invited whose problems were in no sense their responsibility on the promise that the local groups would create a meaningful democracy for all the island's people, a goal towards which virtually no real work had been done. And at this particular congregation there was almost no spirit of Christian fellowship or even common courtesy. Arthur wondered how it was possible to have such distrust of foreigners and such insularism in a nation whose problems were all entirely internal. Nonetheless, he just smiled politely at the old man. "You heard incorrectly, sir. I have done no such thing nor do I expect to do any such thing, barring some unforeseen circumstance." And with that he took his seat.

...

"I can't complain." Prince Arthur said deceptively although not quite falsely. "We have managed to help a lot of people put their lives back in order. We've constructed new homes and delivered a large amount of food, water, medicine, clothing and agricultural supplies, as well as some toys for the children. I would like to hear more of the Provisional Government, however. It seems quite hard to acquire detailed information. Has much progress been made in writing a constitution?"

Sunday Morning, New Donaghadee Presbyterian Chapel

The Cantankerous Old Farmer obviously did not expect such an answer, for he suddenly looked supremely embarrassed. He sat down on a nearby pew without another word, though some of the congregation did make their views known by loudly discussing ‘that silly old fool Shamus’.

“Pay no attention to him,” said a wizened old lady who sat next to the young Prince, “Spent too long in the sun, if you ask me. Addled the brain. We’re not all cantankerous old farts, young man.”

Monday Morning, Church House, Freetown

“The Provisional Government?” asked the Moderator with a quizzical look, “Well, where to begin?”
The Reverend gazed about the room for a moment, collecting his thoughts on what constituted the legal authority of the island. Everything had happened such speed that, at times, not even the Moderator could keep up.

“Well, the Provisional Government was initially founded at the Camp Penthesilea Talks in order to precipitate the holding of free elections and the establishment of the Kingdom. I have to say that, although the Government was sketched out at Camp Penthesilea, it wasn’t formally ratified and brought into existence until the ‘Agreement’ was signed by the Bishop of Freetown, the Bishop of An Bealach Bui and myself. Under the terms of the Agreement, we represent the three main groups of the island and, as of that moment, a ceasefire is in operation between the militias that we, officially or unofficially, have control over.

Not that the signing of the Agreement was some sort of grand occasion, you understand your Highness. Instead, Commonwealth soldiers acted as couriers for the official document and I signed it from the comfort of my office.”

The Moderator stopped talking for a moment and, rummaging through the drawers of this antique (but rather battered) desk. He produced a large piece of light blue paper which he promptly folded-out.

“Here’s my copy of the Agreement, if you want to have a read,” he said, handing the document to the Prince, “its quite interesting, if you like that sort of thing.”

The ‘Agreement’ was not a very grand thing, typed out hastily on one of the elderly typewriters that had survived since the Finaran occupation. It was written in two separate sections, one in English and the other in Gaelic, and was couched in suitably legal terms. The Fourth Protestant Republic, the Pantocratorian Crusade for Anacea and the Confession of St. Teresa of Avila all agreed to the immediate cessation of official hostilities and promised, amongst themselves, to select 30 individuals that would represent them. These thirty individuals were appointed to a ‘Council of Elders’ that, along with 10 independents chosen by (but not from) the International Assistance Agency of the Western Atlantic.

“The Council of Elders,” said the Moderator, correctly sensing that the young Prince was just reading that section of the ‘Agreement’, “Meets in the old Seanad chamber of the Oireachtas. There’s no set provision, as you can see, for how many times it meets, but a Standing Committee was elected from this, which consists of the two bishops, together with a few aides from our respective groups and from the Commonwealth-Fiefdom peacekeepers and myself.

I suppose that you should know all this, considering you have signed-up for the role of Head of State. The Provisional Government has a number of priorities, first of which is the provision of aid (and hence why you were stationed to New Donaghadee). The people of New…I mean Kaitan-Leagran…have suffered greatly and we need basic foodstuffs and shelter for them. The second priority is stability and order. That’s the difficult one, since I doubt that any group (myself included) is willing to see our respective militias disbanded until a more concrete political solution is found...yet a concrete political solution won’t be found until stability reigns. And that isn’t counting the number of smaller warlords.”

The Moderator stood and moved towards the window behind him. Waving his hand in the direction of the city, he began to speak again.

“The problem is that, within two miles of the Dome, there are men who would swear that they loyally serve the Protestant Republic and the dictates of the Synod. Do they? Only so far as their views correspond to those of the Movement, after that they are just local chiefs, Lords of the particular neighbourhood in which they live. Disarming them is the difficulty. I mean, we could just force them to surrender, but at what cost in money and innocent lives? But buying them off, which is the only alternative, requires money which we don’t have.

Anyway,” he said retaking his seat, ”We also have to conduct a rudimentary census in order to establish suitable voting districts and have some manner of voter registration. That is currently being undertaken now, and will no doubt take several months before it is completed.

The Constitution is more interesting. The ‘bare-bones’ are sorted, and will consist of an amended version of the old Finaran system. The Dáil is the lower chamber and the one in which the bulk of the power will rest. It’ll be elected under internationally recognised procedures, but will operate under a power-sharing agreement that will distribute ministerial portfolios across the main parties thanks to the D'Hondt method. We’re also hoping to make a list of certain types of law which must achieve ‘cross-communal support’, in which it must gain a majority in each ethno-religious community before proceeding. And, of course, if a third of the delegates submit a petition to the speaker then any law can be put before this ‘cross-community’ resolution. The Taoiseach is also elected on a joint ticket with the Tánaiste and, again, the entire process is subject to a majority among all three communities.
So as you can see, you Highness, the lower (and major) chamber is largely-sorted with only the finest of the fine details to be resolved. The problem lies in what to do with the Seanad.

The problem is that we know what we want, but don’t have any idea how to achieve it. What we want is a Seanad that operates like the British House of Lords, with a number of unelected peers being able to modify and veto legislation free from party-political concerns.

But how would these people get there? We could appoint them, but then it would have to be done by the lower chamber and that involves sectarian concerns. And if seats were appointed on communal and party balance, then it would be too similar to the Dáil. And after nearly forty years of civil war, I doubt there is anyone left who could be relied upon to be neutral.
And though we could create a more formalised aristocracy….we Protestants have not been entirely impressed with the nature of Kaitan-Leagran nobles. But it might be the only way,” he shrugged.

“And the other problem,” said the Moderator with a sigh, “Is the extent to which power is devolved within New Deasrargle. Although we have attempted to create a system that places as much emphasis on cooperation as possible, there are still some who insist on local checks on central power. They want something akin to a federal structure, which has its merits, I suppose, but I personally am wary. I mean, I am a Protestant Minister,” he said, motioning to himself, “And if I am a member of a ‘state’ assembly in the north of Kaitan-Leagran then surely I’ll make Protestant laws for Protestant people, as much as possible? That, in my opinion, just reinforces sectarian division as opposed to cooperation.

So that’s the current progress of the Constitution. We’ve discovered that the big issues of governance were solved relatively easily; it’s the appendices that are causing the trouble. In fact, your Highness, what is your opinion? If you wish to be King then these troubles are yours as much as anyone’s on the island. And if you do become King, you might get to express your own ideas as freely as you can do so now, as a young Lieutenant in the Commonwealth Army.”

ooc: Although I'll make a wiki article for the nation, the above conversation might be of interest to anyone who wants details of the current political situation.

Though, as I asked in a previous 'out of character' question, how do the prospective kings wish to arrive? Are you going to RP an arrival or just 'turn-up' at the open day?

Arthur looked confused for a moment before shaking his head. "Meaning no disrespect, reverend, but I haven't signed up to become a Head of State, at least not until I come to inherit the Throne of Thorlund. I am in this country because I am an officer and I was assigned to serve with the forces deployed to provide security for our humanitarian efforts. I am here because I was invited by a leader of the local community. If my family were to put forward a candidate for the throne of your country, I don't think it would be me. But that isn't a decision to be made hastily. This is a very serious matter and one in which my cousin is hesitant to get the family involved without thorough discussion and examination. We'd also like to see the sort of people who other dynasties are putting forth. We would welcome any monarch of strong character and liberal democratic principles. However, I do have a few ideas about these constitutional problems, starting with the Seanad. Have you, by any chance, considered using judicial rather than political or hereditary criteria? That would certainly but the Seanad in a position to examine the merits of legislation from a relatively non-partisan and deliberative position. You could have judges appointed to the Seanad by the Dail but require a supermajority which would force the sects to find compromise candidates. That seems, to me at least, to be a viable possibility."

The Moderator smiled as the Prince spoke, though he also looked down at the piece of paper before him. It clearly said, in the tight handwriting of his secretary, that the gentleman before him had indeed put his name forward for the Kingship. That, clearly, wasn't the case and a mental note was made to find a new secretary.

'This place is going to the dogs.' thought the Reverend as the Prince outlined his cousin or something.

"I apologise unreservedly," he said with the 'second-hand car dealer' smile, "I must have, in my haste, picked up the wrong piece of paper and mistakenly assumed that you were a candidate. Not that it matters, though, as I am always willing to hear the advice from a man such as yourself."

"As for your ideas on the Seanad, they are certainly interesting," began the Moderator, "But, no offence, I still have a number of doubts. First, years of civil war have pretty much removed anything akin to judges on the island. And a judge has to..well..'judge' the law and..."

Once again, the Moderator began to search the drawers of his desk for something.

"It's not there, hang on..." he said as he made his way over to a wonderfully ornate (but again, very battered [a pattern is emerging here]) bookcase.

"Ah, here it is!" Taking a large dusty book from the shelf, the clergyman carefully carried it to his desk, where he gently placed it before the Prince.

"This, your Highness, is the Law of the Land."

The book before the First Lieutenant was very fragile, with the spine having completely worn away and the entire thing being held together with rubber-bands. Despite the age, though, it still possessed an air of unmistakable authority. Inscribed in faded gold-leaf on the cover was, as the Prince was no doubt aware being a man from the Commonwealth, the ornate crest of the Royal Family of Finara. The book, quite simply, was the Finaran Law Codes from the 1920s, or the 21st Year of the Reign of King Sean II as it actually was. Its age and origin, as the Prince would notice when he carefully flicked through the pages, was reflected in the Laws. Protestants, therefore, were not allowed to form Churches or hold Office, sodomy was illegal and, bizarrely, suicide was punishable by hanging. The Appendix for Kaitan-Leagran was no better, allowing the construction of Orthodox Churches but not to 'in anyway promote the heresy that emerges from the lack of filoque.'

"As you can see," said the Moderator regaining his seat, "The Law is a pretty discredited thing. Its what the Finarans left us with and, well, they were the last people who cared to create a Code and so it is all we have. A new Code is being created, of course, but that will take months, if not a full year. And training judges will take time as well, not to mention the lawyers and solicitors required for the task.

My worry is that it will take too long, and we can't hold off elections until then. But if we start the engine of the Dáil without the Seanad, then does that make their laws illegitimate? And if it does work, people might not bother with a second chamber at all, which would be fine today but could be dangerous tomorrow. We shall certainly consider your ideas though, Your Highness, as they are a damn site better than some of the others proposed!

Do you have any ideas, though, on the Federalist Question?

And, if you will, say a little of your home. Doorland was it? I am afraid that I have travelled to so few places on God's Green and Pleasant Earth."

"Thorlund." Arthur corrected. "It's a fair sized principality located in Ambara. It's largely mountainous. The people tend to be fairly old fashioned, at least about certain things. The people are predominantly Lutheran. There's a bicameral legislature. German is an official language alongside English. What else would you wish to know?"

Arthur frowned as he looked over the law books. "I'm not sure I understand. You have had a number of Protestant Republics since the end of Finaran rule over the island. Surely they have not ruled according to a law code which illegalized their churches? What did they consider to be the legislative code of the land? Have you given any thought to the adoption of the common law?"

Arthur shook his head a little. "There is a great deal of work to be done in this country. I am glad to do my part but I am a soldier, not a political theorist. Surely there are many men better qualified than I to offer you advice on this matter."

"I heard that the individual principalities of the old Danaan High Kingdom each possessed a 'official' faith. I suppose your own is, well, Lutheranism. Does that still stand in the Commonwealth of People?

And, forgive me but I am but a simple clergyman, but I heard tell that there was some, movement in political circles. Do you happen to know if the term 'Commonwealth of Peoples' is still valid?

There are Protestant Law Codes, and indeed a number of various laws from the various...sects, but they suffer from not being particularly expansive and horrendously partisan. And most of them just come lock, stock and barrel from that."

The Moderator pointed to a Bible that sat at the end of his desk.

"I mean, the greatest of the Protestant Republics, the Second, was founded upon a rather strict interpretation of old Hebrew Law. And the Republic took it seriously, especially the number of people they stoned to death.

I think it is inevitable that Common Law will be the order of the day, judging by the myriad of various laws and regulations that have operated over the last 50 years.

Though, as you say, I have placed these concerns upon the head of a soldier and not a political theorist.

Yes, you were speaking of Thorland. Old fashioned you say, I would be intrigued if you could explain that..."

The Moderator was interrupted by the (somewhat discordant) ringing of the elderly Bakelite phone that sat on his desk. Having been interrupted mid-thought, the Reverend looked at the telephone as though it were something completely unusual and never-before-seen. Shaking his head slightly, he remembered what the telephone was for and moved to pick it up.

"Sorry about this, your Highness," he said, picking up the receiver, "Hello...yes...yes...discuss what sorry?...I see...I see...yes, well can you ask him to wait for a moment? Thank you."

"I terribly sorry, your Highness, but I am afraid we shall have to leave discussion of your homeland to another day. One of the men from the I.A.A is asking to see me. It's probably nothing important, just news of a supply run in the mountains, but it means that I must very rudely ask you to leave."

Rising to his feet, and leaning rather awkwardly over his large desk, the Moderator extended his hand.

"Thank you very much for coming, your Highness, I am most indebted. My apologises again, but my secretary will lead you back through this warren to the main entrance."

The two men exchanged a few pleasantries; the Moderator expressing his profound regret and hoping that the young Prince wouldn't tell his family that Kaitan-Leagran was populated by the exceedingly rude.

If the Prince had been insulted, his mood would not have improved by the time he reached the large entrance hall.

"I'm afraid to say that your jeep has been called away," said the young receptionist to whom the Prince spoke to on his arrival, "There was apparently an incident back at your base."

"This gentleman was offered to you a lift, should you require it."

Sitting on chair in the reception, the gentleman to which the receptionist spoke of arose upon being referred to. Straightening out the folds of his cassock, he strode over his an out-stretched hand.

"Prince Arthur is it? Allow me to introduce myself, I am Stylianos Amesimeku of An Bealach Buim," said the Bishop with a friendly smile, "I hear you are stranded, sir, and I have just given a lift to the man from the IAA. Can I offer you one back to your base?"

ooc: would be grateful if you could say yes, as the Bishop can provide more information on Kaitan-Leagran and the candidacy for Kingship.

http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f63/ValerianEmpire/CoA.png
To: The Provisional Government of the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran
From: His Most August and Imperial Majesty Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven

Isangrad, Valerian State, Magnus Valerius

Salutations, most esteemed Kaitan-Leagrians. I, His Imperial Majesty Tsar Alexander III, would like to extend the greetings of Magnus Valerius to you and your peoples. I have received word that your new nation is in need of a strong ruler and a foreign dynastic ruler to create unity within your fledgling nation. I have a possible candidate for your nation in the form of my son, Prince Peter (from Valerian, 'Pyetr') Alexandrovich. He is a young lad, but he is my second son and has little chance of succeeding me to the throne (his elder brother Ivan Alexandrovich will have that honour). Prince Peter has the pomp of a royal diplomat and the skills and will to be a leader.

Prince Peter has just turned 16, and thus is open for marriage opportunities that you may arrange for him if you elect him as your king. Perhaps the melding of a Valerian man and a woman from Kaitan-Leagran will forge a lasting dynasty that combines both of the strengths of both of our nations.

I will be sending Prince Peter to your nation for a possible rendezvous with your interim government, and then he will be honoured to be your guest. As a sign of Valerian friendship, he will bring some gifts from our nation upon his arrival for your provisional government.

Please, feel free to contact me on any information I would need to know.

Most Honourably Yours,

His Imperial Majesty Tsar Alexander III of House Borivich-Vassilakos-Seleukios
Emperor of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven, Lord Protector of Baden, Grand Prince of Vedus, et. al.

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/05/Flag_of_Libya.svg/125px-
To: His Most August and Imperial Majesty Tsar Alexander III, Emperor of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius and Shorehaven

From: The Provisional Government of the Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran

Your Most August and Imperial Majesty,

It is with an overwhelming sense of honour that we received your kindly missive and we thank you for taking the time to respond to our humble enquiries.

To that end, therefore, it would be our honour to host the young Prince Pyetr in our kingdom. He will find our nation somewhat ‘rough around the edges’ but, should he eventually be chosen as monarch, we would be confident that we would be able to mould Kaitan-Leagran into a powerful modern democracy.

All gifts to the Kingdom shall, of course, be gratefully received and you have our profound thanks for your great beneficence. Our only concern is that, being in a somewhat turbulent state, we would recommend that the young Prince bring a small core of his own protection, though we shall endeavour to utilise the resources at our disposal to protect the Prince during his stay.

There is an ‘Open Day’ (for which we must apologise as it is a truly unworthy name) for potential candidates, though we would add that any decision of the Provisional Government must be ratified by a majority within each ethno-religious community and, due to the difficulties in voter registration, this may take some time. Any formal coronation, therefore, will be a wait for the lucky candidate. This Open Day is scheduled for the coming weeks and you will be informed of this closer to the time.

We are, and remain, Your Most August and Imperial Majesty’s Most Obedient Servants,

His Grace, The Bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Freetown
His Grace, The Bishop of the Pantocratorian Orthodox Diocese of An Bealach Bui
The Reverend Moderator of the Presbyterian Synod of Freetown.
On behalf of the Council of Elders of the Provisional Government

Off the Coast of Kaitan-Leagran

Prince Pyetr came with a small contingent of soldiers with him on the boat. The Valerians carried service rifles and were ready for desert or urban combat (if the things that the Kaitan-Leagrian officials have mentioned are that bad...). Also, upon some research by the Valerian Intelligence Ministry, the island has a sizable population of Orthodox citizens. The Valerians were Orthodox, so maybe Prince Pyetr can find his support from the Orthodox natives to be the head of state. This also made Patriarch Feodor III, the Patriarch of Isangrad and All Valeria, send a bishop as an emissary from the Valerian Orthodox Church along with the prince. The bishop hailed from the Trentino metropolitan.

The Valerians landed and disembarked. "God, this weather reminds me of the wastes of Arnach!" Pyetr said as the dry air scathed at his face. The Valerians had their weapons ready in case the prince came under threat and the bishop uttered a prayer. Although the so-called "Open Day" was scheduled for much later, the Valerians decided to come early to meet, as addressed in the communique received by the Valerians, the Bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Freetown, the Bishop of the Pantocratorian Orthodox Diocese of An Bealach Bui, the Reverend Moderator of the Presbyterian Synod of Freetown and the Council of Elders of the Provisional Government, if possible. Pyetr took out a bottle of wine and split it amongst the friends he brought along for the trip, although this journey and stay in Kaitan-Leagran does not appear to be as comfortable and exciting as they once thought. Still, alcohol helps cover up any mess of a situation they could get in (at least in the Valerian mindset, this was true).

"Confederated Peoples of the Resurgent Dream." Prince Arthur corrected. He listened for another moment and watched as the Moderator answered the phone. He couldn't hide a frown at the news although he quickly stood politely. "I understand completely, Reverend." he said.

Arthur headed out the door and nodded politely to the bishop. "I would be much obliged to you, sir." Arthur said.

Arriving for the open day, and indeed a short holiday before the day was to happen, had been a bit of a hassle, the amount of pulling strings and bribes and everything in-between it had taken to get the Lord-Minor Sturm’s aircraft to reach Kaitan-Leagran. But now he was here and sitting in the back of his Austin Super Severn, its powerful engine growling along as its thin tires bumped a little on the roadways.


Either side of him was Daniel Dyer, the notorious Midlonian Diplomat and eccentric and his ever resolute bodyguard and assistant, Bratcher. They were sent as a bit of a security and liaison detail, along with the two Midlonian SAS bodyguards in the Hord Anglia 121F Standard (very similar in aesthetics to the Ford Anglia, but built in Midlonia by the Hord Motor Company…) Ahead was a single Midlonian outrider on a Austin ‘Rifer’ Motorcycle, its own 220 Horsepower engine screaming ahead of the two vehicles, all were in a deep blue, turning a corner revealed to other vehicles (such as there were) the crest of the House of Sturm, a gear with a dove embossed over it.
“Its an odd place for sure. Strange architecture.” commented Dyer as he tapped his cane lightly on the floor of the car.
“Those are bullet holes.” muttered Bratcher, Gregory merely raised an eyebrow and looked between them.
“Oh, really? Some are quite random aren’t they? Can’t aim very well if that’s what they are.”
“Yes, well. These are simple militias as opposed to anything professional.”
“True true.” Dyer merely combed a bit of his hair with his hand idly as he checked himself in the reflection of the car window.

“Locals look a bit downhearted, wonder why? No nice cars, that must be it.”

“You sure that he’s the best the Midlonian Diplomatic Corps has to offer?”
“When he’s around foreign officals, yes, otherwise he doesn’t care and allows his mind to wander at seemingly random.” replied Bratcher with a nonchalant shrug.
“I see.”

The bull of a man carefully pulled his leather gloves on tight as they followed the car of Lord-Minor Sturm.

“Gene, do you always have to wear those?” Asked the driver as he glanced across.
“Yep.” he replied in a single gunshot like statement.
“Why is it you always assume something bad is going to happen? The ceasefire has held as well as it has so far.”
“I don’t believe that any piece of paper will hold back human nature Sam. That’s why. Now shut up and drive.”
“Prat.” Sam muttered as he changed gear.

Off the Coast of Kaitan-Leagran

Prince Pyetr came with a small contingent of soldiers with him on the boat. The Valerians carried service rifles and were ready for desert or urban combat (if the things that the Kaitan-Leagrian officials have mentioned are that bad...). Also, upon some research by the Valerian Intelligence Ministry, the island has a sizable population of Orthodox citizens. The Valerians were Orthodox, so maybe Prince Pyetr can find his support from the Orthodox natives to be the head of state. This also made Patriarch Feodor III, the Patriarch of Isangrad and All Valeria, send a bishop as an emissary from the Valerian Orthodox Church along with the prince. The bishop hailed from the Trentino metropolitan.

The Valerians landed and disembarked. "God, this weather reminds me of the wastes of Arnach!" Pyetr said as the dry air scathed at his face. The Valerians had their weapons ready in case the prince came under threat and the bishop uttered a prayer. Although the so-called "Open Day" was scheduled for much later, the Valerians decided to come early to meet, as addressed in the communique received by the Valerians, the Bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Freetown, the Bishop of the Pantocratorian Orthodox Diocese of An Bealach Bui, the Reverend Moderator of the Presbyterian Synod of Freetown and the Council of Elders of the Provisional Government, if possible. Pyetr took out a bottle of wine and split it amongst the friends he brought along for the trip, although this journey and stay in Kaitan-Leagran does not appear to be as comfortable and exciting as they once thought. Still, alcohol helps cover up any mess of a situation they could get in (at least in the Valerian mindset, this was true).

The ill-conceived Fiefdom invasion that prompted the diplomatic circus that now engulfed the island revealed two very crucial points. First was the dire state of the country after 40 years of civil war. People had been reduced to a peasant/medieval state of existence with embittered fanatics traded pot-shots with increasingly elderly AK47s.
Leading on from this was the second point, that most people realised that a naval task-force lay off the coast only when the Marines began landing. So it was no suprise that the arrival of Prince Pyetr, or Lord-Minor Sturm for that matter, went completely un-noticed by those forces that made up the Provisional Government.
Indeed, it was only when a Fiefdom Naval Officer pasted Bishop O'Neill in the corridor of the Seanad Building that he or any of his staff realised. As the only member of triumvirate that wasn't buggering about somewhere, the Bishop took it upon himself to rush to the scene.

And rush he did. Assembling a small number of his staff, the Bishop was able to quickly obtain a number of IAA jeeps and send these to the dock where the young Valerian Prince was currently waiting (and enjoying wine).

Dressed in a simple clerical shirt with a somewhat frayed tweed jacket, the Bishop didn't really look the part but hoped that Valerian Intelligence had briefed the young man as to what he looked like. Or provided a picture. The Bishop didn't know, he was a cleric and not a spy after all.

The problem was that, as the bishop realised as the jeeps sped their way through the rubble of lower Freetown, he had no idea what the Prince looked like. As the convoy pulled up at the docks, the Bishop made his way over to a group of somewhat dejected-looking men who were drinking wine.

'He'll settle in well,' thought the Bishop to himself, 'He's already made a good-start.'

"Forgive me," said the Bishop in his light Finaran-Irish accent, "Are any of you His Imperial Highness?"

"Confederated Peoples of the Resurgent Dream." Prince Arthur corrected. He listened for another moment and watched as the Moderator answered the phone. He couldn't hide a frown at the news although he quickly stood politely. "I understand completely, Reverend." he said.

Arthur headed out the door and nodded politely to the bishop. "I would be much obliged to you, sir." Arthur said.

The bishop smiled warmly from beneath his long grey beard.
"Right this way," he said in his Greek-accented English as the two men left Church House and encountered the dusty street.
This being Kaitan-Leagran, there was little in the way of cars in the street. There were a few I.A.A. jeeps (ooc: Since these will be Commonwealth jeeps, its up to you as to what they are called) parked in the street, one helping the driver of an (somewhat) elderly Fiefdom GAZ that was suffering from an ash-filled air filter. It would have been obvious to the Prince, therefore, that the Bishop's automobile was the battered Land Rover that stood outside the Dome.
"Don't worry about your comrades back at base, your Highness," said the Bishop as they crossed the mostly-deserted road, "I heard-tell that it is nothing more than one of your lorries being stuck in a ravine by the town. I think your Commander ordered the jeep back in order to see if it could assist (ooc: again, sorry about my small god-modding there). Its not a long drive so I offered to take you back, but i thought I should inform you in case you thought that the base was under attack, or had sunk into a old lava channel."
The bishop stopped in the middle of the road (again, not a dangerous thing to do in Freetown) and thought.
"Though I have heard of places collapsing into old lava channels, entire villages..but that's definately not the case here. Please let yourself in, your Highness, I have not locked it [the Land Rover] as it is hardly worth stealing!"

The Bishop climbed into the driver's seat and, whispering a small prayer to himself in Greek, turned the ignition. The engine moaned and grumbled for a few seconds before cutting out.
"Oh don't do this to me please, I have company!" said the Bishop, turning the key again and being rewarded with a nigh-healthy grumble.

Stylianos forced the car into gear and set off down the once grand street.

"You know," he said over the roar of the engine, "I had my own driver back in An Bealach Bui, not that I am complaining. It is quite...liberating to be able to drive oneself."

Turning into another fomerly-grand street, the Bishop began to pick up speed as he drove down the largely-empty road.

"Forgive me," said the Bishop as he weaved past a young man pulling a cart filled with Red Cross Food Parcels, "But I am told that your family back in...Doorland is it?, I am told that they have not yet selected a candidate (if they wish to do so). Nor has any family in the Resurgent Dream. If you have contact with those families, or know of anyone who does, would you consider it improper if I were suggest those criteria that I, personally, felt should be reflected in our monarch? If, that is, you don't consider that an improper request?"

As he spoke, the bishop weaved through the tangle of Freetown streets and, eventually, put the Land Rover on the long road to the island's north.

"Well, everyone makes mistakes." Arthur said in a tone which did not quite hide his concern.

Arthur smiled slightly as he watched the bishop fumble with the car. He smiled as the man finally arrived at the subject of common interest. Well, sort of. "Go on. What criteria do you consider important?"

The Valerian delegation was on alert. Many of the Valerians did not believe that this country was in such disrepair and in a mess. Prince Pyetr would be lucky to leave unscathed by any bullets, and Bishop Feofil V of Trentino was no help: a bishop with fanciful sacramental garments and a large, golden icon on his neck to complement the jeweled Slavic Cross he wore was not likely to last in a place like this without getting mugged by bandits. The Valerian Orthodox Bishop cowered behind the ranks of guards assigned to the expedition. Prince Pyetr and his friends on the other hand, enjoyed what they could of this forsaken landscape by getting drunk and trying to sing some songs. The young women of the group giggled at Prince Pyetr's antics. "Look at me, I am... King of The Second Hell on Earth!" Prince Pyetr said with a laugh. "The First Hell being Cleveland of course!"

Just as Prince Pyetr jumped off an outcropping of rubble to join with his friends in another bout of drinks, a convoy pulled up to the Valerian landing, with a religious figure emerging at the head of the welcoming committee. He talked in an accent that reminded the Valerians of a thick Arnachian Gaelic accent.

Once the words, 'His Imperial Highness', came to Prince Pyetr's ears, the red-faced prince emerged forward. The Prince was a heavy drinker, despite the fact that he was allergic to alcohol. Just a few drinks and Pyetr's face flares up like a beet.

The Prince began, "I am Prince Pyetr of Val-"

Bishop Feofil V interjected unexpectedly, emerging from behind his human shields, "Your Holiness and fair Brother in Orthodoxy, it is an honor to meet you! I am Bishop Feofil V of Trentino... Oh wait, you are --- Catholic!!! My apologies, Your Holiness, I came under the influence that your nation has a distinct Orthodox population..."

Feofil withdrew back behind Prince Pyetr and a couple of guards before Pyetr picked up from whence he was interrupted. "As I was saying, I am Prince Pyetr of Valeria. I assume you are the... Catholic Bishop of Kaitan-Leagran, am I correct? It is an honor to meet you. As you can see, I have provided for the defense of myself, the bishop, and my friends who tagged along. Your country's hospitality, for what little it may have, is welcome among us, as is our Valerian warmth and friendship is to you... but let us find a more secure area to discuss things, like the Open Day."

Freetown Dock

The Bishop of Freetown was somewhat concerned that the Prince, if he really were of the Valerian Imperial House, appeared to either be very sunburnt or suffered from some manner of terrible skin condition.
'Either way,' though O'Neill, 'It won't look good on the portraits.'

The Bishop was also concerned that the Valerian delegation had taken their warnings about security...well...abit too seriously, judging by the number of tall and well-armed gentlemen. Conditions in Freetown might have been difficult, but the Bishop knew the capital well-enought to know that it didn't consist of cannabalistic hordes of murderous thieves.

"A good many of the people in Kaitan-Leagran are of the...Greek Orthodox persuasion Your Grace," said O'Neill to Feofil, carefull to term his fellow Christians are orthodox and not, as he thought it, heretics.
"In fact, I daresay that one of the leading Orthodox Bishops on the island, Bishop Amesimeku of An Bealach Bui, will meet you very shortly. He is supposed to be here now..but..it doesn't appear that he is. He must be off doing something, but as I say, you'll meet him soon enough."

"But of course Your Highness," said the Bishop, turning his attention to Pyetr, "How rude of me not to introduce myself, I am indeed the Bishop of the Catholic Diocese of Freetown and thus, by the nature of such things, head of the Roman Catholic Church in Kaitan-Leagran.
Conditions in the city are not quite as bad as you may think, Your Highness, but it is always pleasant to see that you have taken our guidance to heart.

Until we sort out some manner of central arrangement, myself and the other members of the Provisional Government have allocated accomodation to the candidates from our own establishments. You shall be staying in the Diocesan Palace with myself, your Highness if that's alright. We can talk more securely from there.

And now if you care to join me in the jeep we shall proceed there swiftly.."
he said as he motioned the young Prince to the waiting convoy.

The Road to New Donaghadee, North of Freetown

"Go on. What criteria do you consider important?"

"I only have one point, your Highness, and that is that the King shouldn't be Christian." said Stylianos as he swung the elderly landrover around a pothole.

"Now that is a very curious thing for a Bishop to say, but I have my reasons. For instance, I should inform you, your Highness, that I am not a native of this island. The conditions here, they do not really allow for much theological training...or silent contemplation for that matter. I come from Pantocratoria, the Holy Empire, and that means that I, how do you say, I sit on the outside and look into Anacea.

The thing about being a Greek Orthodox in Pantocratoria, your Highness, is that you have two homelands. And you compare the old Constantinople to New Constantinople. Now, back in the old Empire, the Turk made you pay taxes, and he killed some of your people from time to time, and he held your offices as things to be bargained over...
but the Sultan, for all his ills, didn't really care for your faith. If you kept the peace, paid your taxes and went to work then he didn't mind if you were Orthodox, Catholic or Protestant.
Now the most Catholic Emperor was different. He wanted everyone to be the same, talk the same, obey the same rules. And he would kill you or take your lands if you didn't. I mean, Orthodoxy survived for 500 years under Turkish rule in one form or another, it was only a few years back that it was allowed in a Christian country!"

"No, any King has to be a non-Christian. He was to rise above denominations, he must be faithful to his god but allow people to worship the God. And that is where, I think, the Danaan High Kingdom can help.

I have seen a little of the world and know that the High Kingdom has, what is the word? Fiefdoms? No, principalities," said the Bishop carefully, since it was not a word that commonly entered his english-language discussions, "yes, and these all have royal families, like yours back in Doorland. Now these each have their own official faiths.

If the Royal Families of each principality reflect the official faith, and I have no reason to doubt this, then it provides us with a cornucopia of possibilities. I have picked my favourite based on faith alone, though, and I would be grateful if you could enquire as to whether they have a candidate available."

The Bishop stopped talking at that moment, sure that he had said enough. As the landrover passed a truck that (by appearances) seemed to have been pulled out a ravine by several jeeps, he motioned to the Lieutenant.

"There, you see, I am sure that your friends are there. Nothing to worry about."

A few more moments of silence passed.

Arriving for the open day, and indeed a short holiday before the day was to happen, had been a bit of a hassle, the amount of pulling strings and bribes and everything in-between it had taken to get the Lord-Minor Sturm’s aircraft to reach Kaitan-Leagran. But now he was here and sitting in the back of his Austin Super Severn, its powerful engine growling along as its thin tires bumped a little on the roadways.


Either side of him was Daniel Dyer, the notorious Midlonian Diplomat and eccentric and his ever resolute bodyguard and assistant, Bratcher. They were sent as a bit of a security and liaison detail, along with the two Midlonian SAS bodyguards in the Hord Anglia 121F Standard (very similar in aesthetics to the Ford Anglia, but built in Midlonia by the Hord Motor Company…) Ahead was a single Midlonian outrider on a Austin ‘Rifer’ Motorcycle, its own 220 Horsepower engine screaming ahead of the two vehicles, all were in a deep blue, turning a corner revealed to other vehicles (such as there were) the crest of the House of Sturm, a gear with a dove embossed over it.
“Its an odd place for sure. Strange architecture.” commented Dyer as he tapped his cane lightly on the floor of the car.
“Those are bullet holes.” muttered Bratcher, Gregory merely raised an eyebrow and looked between them.
“Oh, really? Some are quite random aren’t they? Can’t aim very well if that’s what they are.”
“Yes, well. These are simple militias as opposed to anything professional.”
“True true.” Dyer merely combed a bit of his hair with his hand idly as he checked himself in the reflection of the car window.

“Locals look a bit downhearted, wonder why? No nice cars, that must be it.”

“You sure that he’s the best the Midlonian Diplomatic Corps has to offer?”
“When he’s around foreign officals, yes, otherwise he doesn’t care and allows his mind to wander at seemingly random.” replied Bratcher with a nonchalant shrug.
“I see.”

The bull of a man carefully pulled his leather gloves on tight as they followed the car of Lord-Minor Sturm.

“Gene, do you always have to wear those?” Asked the driver as he glanced across.
“Yep.” he replied in a single gunshot like statement.
“Why is it you always assume something bad is going to happen? The ceasefire has held as well as it has so far.”
“I don’t believe that any piece of paper will hold back human nature Sam. That’s why. Now shut up and drive.”
“Prat.” Sam muttered as he changed gear.

Though the previous Fiefdom operation in Freetown had been..less than successful, the close proximity of their fleet and the goodwill of the newly democratic leadership meant that the Fiefdom's forces had been incorporated into the Commonwealth-lead peacekeeping forces. It was for that reason, therefore, that Corporal Patli Xoxoctic and his squad from the 756th Rifle Regiment now stood at the roadblock before the Midlonian convoy.

The previous visitors to Freetown had been the Marines, all nicely turned-out in their olive green uniforms and brightly polished AK47s. The 756th Rifle Regiment, however, was the Fiefdom People's Army and thus an entirely different outfit. Dressed in a uniform that seemed to be a mixture of old East German military grey in a positively ancient Japanese Imperial Army style (though they did sport fetching Commonwealth-issued Peacekeeper Armbands), the men of Xavier Squad pulled over the convoy while loading their Type 99 rifles.

Now Patli had seen enough Western films to know that, when stopping a shady-looking group of vehicles, you never ever go to the main vehicle. That is normally a recipe for getting shot, humiliated, or both. He decided, instead, to consult the lead motorcyclist.

"Whoa whoa whoa," he said as he approached the man, "What's going on here? You lads seem in an awful rush to get somewhere!"

Arthur nodded a little as he listened. He looked very thoughtful for a long moment. The jeep distracted him. He was both relieved and a tad irritated to see the reason it had been recalled. It was, to put it mildly, unnecessary to call back one particular jeep when there were dozens of others which could have done the task just as easily.

Arthur turned back to his host, suspecting, at least to an extent, that this encounter had been set up. "If that's your wish, I can think of a number of possible queens of Kaitan-Leagran within my extended family but very few kings who would meet that criterion. I assume that Your Grace is aware that Prince Aaron has two younger daughters in addition to the Crown Princess." Arthur paused. If the bishop kept calling his Member Dorland, it wasn't likely that he would know that.

"Unless that wasn't what you had in mind? Which family was it you wished for me to ask?" Arthur said.

The State of Amestria,
Central City,
Les Bureaux Présidentiels,
President Kasumi Liscel’s Formal Office

“I don’t see how the Camp Penthesilea Agreement can last Monsieur Saby,” the President stated simply. “It was just a few months ago that the islands competing sectarian élite were only too happy to continue the gradual reduction of Deasrargle to desert.”

She paused to take a sip from her unstirred cup of hot Amestrian black tea, sweetened with kluntjes and crème, and nibbled on a slice of sponge teacake, flavored with jam. With the exception of the tea, cake, and a few papers, Kasumi’s desk was completely bare, a testament not to tidiness or efficiency but to the President’s preference of doing actual work in her private office. It was a fairly nice day outside and the sunlight streamed in through the rooms vast windows, imbuing the spacious office with a rather cheerful feeling.

Charles Saby was conservatively sipping at his own unstirred cup of hot Amestrian black tea sweetened with kluntjes and crème and nibbling on his slice of Amestrian sponge teacake flavored with jam. He was a somewhat plump, older man with a rather distinguished receding hairline and silver hair. He wore a fairly old fashioned pair of glasses. He nodded a little at the President's words. "Well, Madam President, I certainly hope that that prediction is not an accurate one."

Kasumi set her cup back down on its saucer. “I’m afraid all the hope in the world won’t change the fact that the only indigenous power centers are the various Churches and their militias. It is completely tribal; there is no bureaucracy, no judiciary, no law codes, and no State. As there are no independent institutions to prevent private raiding it is an open question how long the ceasefire will continue without incident, and just one incident could cause the island to return to normalité. Of course there is the silver lining that 40 years of pointless civil war has reduced the islands chefs to a narrow shallow clique, one that could easily be supplanted by an outside power willing to commit the military, bureaucratic, and financial resources…which is why I can’t help but think that the Confederation has gone about the whole situation the wrong way.”

Liscel began to paint a picture of an occupied Deasrargle denuded of its remaining religious and political élites. The economic power of the Churches would be destroyed, the militia’s disarmed, and aggressive policies of secularization implemented (among them, mandatory secular education for all children). The possibility of a voluntary system of population relocation could be explored, fewer people meaning less pressure on already scarce resources. Solid neutral State institutions would be constructed; a civil service, a judiciary, a police force, a central bank, and a welfare system, the whole rehabilitation planned out by clever technocrats, anthropologists, and collaborators, Regle par des Experts; the Deasrarglian people passive and doing what they are told until deemed ready for democratic system of governance.

Saby listened politely. He gave no hint of his inner thoughts although it seemed almost impossible to him that Kasumi might be under the impression that they were sympathetic or even respectful. Of course, her words made it seem rather impossible to him that anyone's reaction might be so.

“This search for a King, the idea that a wise foreign born monarch and nagelneu constitution will make everything all better, strikes me as magical thinking in its purest form,” Kasumi continued. “It is inevitable that the King shall become either a good intentioned but ultimately powerless sans consequence nicht-État figurehead or a malevolent intriguer bent on subverting the island… Speaking of which, I hope the Confederation has a plan to stop that Midlonian, Lord Sturm, from attaining the throne.”

"That is an interesting idea, Madam President." Saby said simple. "I will make sure President Eaton is made aware of your opinion."

The President nodded and took a quick bite of her teacake. Of course Eaton would never meaningfully consider her suggestion and Kasumi did not expect him to.

“Now about Lord Sturm…?” Liscel pressed.

"We don't consider it much of a cause for concern." Saby said. "We're confident in the ability of the people of Kaitan-Leagran to make a wise choice."

Liscel blinked. “Why is that?” she asked in outright amazement.

"Because there is no other viable option. Because it is their rights to decide. Because they have every reason to seek to improve their situation." he answered.

“And what if they make the wrong choice? What then?”

He just shrugged. "What is it you wish to actually convey to President Eaton, Madam President?" he finally asked, perhaps tired of playing games.

Kasumi for one was not playing games and was somewhat annoyed by the Ambassador’s unexpressive and curt manner, although her irritation was well hidden. She also had the distinct feeling that he was concealing information from her. Whatever the case, Kasumi cordially moved from discussing the general situation in Deasrargle to specific matters. In short the President wanted to know if the Confederation was interested in Amestrian assistance.

She commented upon several possibilities at length. If the reconstruction authorities had a need for it Amestria could supply a Military engineering brigade. Amestria could also provide technical personnel to assist in the setting up of a bank, or a financial structure, to help pump investment and low interest loans into the impoverished Deasrarglian economy. Liscel inquired if the Confederation had begun or was preparing to begin a census, if yes then the Amestrian National Institute for Statistics and Economic Studies could be of service. Kasumi however spent the most time on a proposal for a detailed agricultural and anthropological study, conducted by Institut National de la Recherche Agronomique, that would focus on how best to revive and revitalize Deasrarglian agriculture, and do so a way that would benefit the greatest number of people and society as a whole. Being a viticulturist she naturally found the INRA’s idea very interesting.

Saby nodded slightly. "These ideas sound rather productive. Have you considered applying for membership in the IAA or making these propositions to the coalition government?"

“At this time Amestria would rather be an associate of the IAA rather then a member. As for the Kaitan-Leagran Provisional Government…” Liscel made a dismissive hand gesture. “Our State would rather communicate with them through the Confederation.”

Saby smiled politely. "We will convey your offer then."

Liscel returned the smile. “Good.” She stood up and reached across the desk to shake Saby’s hand. “Thank you Ambassador.”

He shook her hand. "Thank you, Madam President."

Arthur nodded a little as he listened. He looked very thoughtful for a long moment. The jeep distracted him. He was both relieved and a tad irritated to see the reason it had been recalled. It was, to put it mildly, unnecessary to call back one particular jeep when there were dozens of others which could have done the task just as easily.

Arthur turned back to his host, suspecting, at least to an extent, that this encounter had been set up. "If that's your wish, I can think of a number of possible queens of Kaitan-Leagran within my extended family but very few kings who would meet that criterion. I assume that Your Grace is aware that Prince Aaron has two younger daughters in addition to the Crown Princess." Arthur paused. If the bishop kept calling his Member Dorland, it wasn't likely that he would know that.

"Unless that wasn't what you had in mind? Which family was it you wished for me to ask?" Arthur said.

"My goodness, I forgot to actually say anything about that!" exclaimed the Bishop absent-mindedly.

"The Royal Family of Farinor would be a good place to start, I don't think anyone would have a problem with Hinduism. And after that, I don't know. It's your country, highness, I shall let you judge who you think is the best candidate for the job. Just so long as they are young, eager and non-Christian, I would not stand in their way."

As he spoke the outline of New Donaghadee appeared on the horizon. It didn't take long for the Bishop to stop his ancient car (with some difficulty) outside the old police station that served as the Confederation base.

"Think about what I said," called the Bishop as the Prince descended from the Land Rover, "And may God Bless you during your time on our island."

Without another word, the bishop pulled away and heaved his vehicle back towards the capital.

“Eh? Well. Uh.” the outrider spoke and stuttered for a moment before belching loudly.
“Basically we’re here for this, um, interveooos” his Brummie accent ground the words out in a steady drawl.
The rider pointed to the car behind as the door opened and Daniel Dyer got out, tapping his cane on the floor as he moved along towards the position.
“Daniel Derek Dyer, Midlonian Diplomatic and Economic Corps. Something wrong Corporal Xoxoctic?”

Seeing the bemused look on the Corporal’s face Dyer carried on.

“This is the convoy representing Lord-Minor Gregory Sturm, we are conveying Lord Sturm to his Hotel for the duration of this election in the hope of becoming King, rather than sit for several hours at the airport for someone on this slow moving island to come to us. Which I have been reliably informed has happened to the other delegates. Some silly worry about getting shot. Now, Corporal, let us proceed.”

With that Dyer merely turned and headed back to the car, snapping the door shut behind him.

The outrider merely grinned at the Corporal and gave a “What can you do?” shrug.

It was a miracle of his iron constitution that the Corporal didn't scream and/or soil himself when the door opened.

'This is it,' he pondered as the Austin's door swung open, 'This is the gunning down and a very weepy telegram being sent to mother.'

It was thus a tremendous relief, therefore, that the man who emerged was not a towering monstrosity littered with submachine guns but rather a gentleman that seemed to possess a cane.

"Let you proceed sir?" asked the Corporal, "I wish I could sir, but I had best check with my commanders. Do excuse me."

With that, the man from the Fiefdom made his way to the little wooden booth that had been constructed for the purpose and spoke into some manner of radio. He emerged a few minutes later.

"You are indeed expected sir," he said, "But I'ms afraid to say that your accomodation for the trip ain't in the capital. No, I have been informed that Lord Sturm to be staying in An Bealach Bui at the pleasure of His Grace, the bishop thereof. An Bealach Bui is not far way sir, by car that is, and it is...well...along the road that you have just come down sir."

"Now if you excuse me, I have a road-block to man."

To:
His Grace Eugenios
Bishop of Anacea (An Bealach Bui)

Your Grace,

The blessings of the risen God be upon you and your flock.

We write to you on the advent of an apparent end to the violence which has so troubled Anacea, oft called Kaitan-Leagran, to express both our satisfaction at a break in the bloodshed and our hesitation at the process by which you, the Latin bishop, and the Presbyterian moderator are attempting to affect a lasting settlement for Anacea in the form of a monarch. It is our opinion that appointing some scion of a foreign dynasty as the monarch of your island is potentially disastrous, especially for the Orthodox faithful under your care. We are particularly mindful of the history of violence between the Orthodox, the Latins, and Presbyterian sectaries. We are particularly fearful that, there being comparatively few Orthodox royal dynasties in the world, that Anacea will have a Catholic or Protestant king, who may unwitttingly become a provocation for yet more sectarian violence in which the Orthodox will be the primary victims.

We are especially dubious about the promises made by various ambitious persons who aspire principally to high office. Good monarchs are called to their position by Holy God, and serve their people with love and faith. Beware of men who will do and say anything for the title of king - they will neither serve God nor their fellow men. We urge you and your brothers forming the triumvirate of the Provisional Government of Anacea, or Kaitan-Leagran, to work at a deliberate pace, to consider all things and their implications fully, to pray to God for His guidance and open your hearts to His Holy Wisdom. Above all we implore you and your brothers not to rush to a decision.

Our prayers are with you and your flock.

STEPHANUS
Archbishop of Constantinople (New Rome) and Drakopolis
Ecumenical Patriarch

To:
The Ecumenical Patriarch

Your All-Holiness,

The blessings of the risen God be upon you and upon the faithful both in Pantocratoria and across the whole world.

I am, and remain, grateful for Your All-Holiness’s kind words upon the recent developments in Anacea. The day of peace is one that my flock and I have prayed for constantly, and one that the Ecumenical Patriarchy has also prayed for in the past. This glory day of peace is a testament to the redemptive power of Christ to forgive all who truly repent, as well as the merciful intercession of the Most Holy Theotokos. It is thanks to her that we have risen from the ignominy from violence and the dedication of a thousand churches to her honour would be insufficient to express our gratitude to her.

I would be lying, Your All-Holiness, if I were to say that I did not share your concerns. It is sad, though, that the Holy Church in these lands has been forced to become embroiled in the vineyard of politics when we should be in the desert with God. In the old Empire, as Your All-Holiness will know, there existed a throne for the Emperor and his temporal power and the throne of your predecessors, the Patriarchs. I have never desired a second throne, and I pray for the day that I might return it to those better suited to the task.

As for the matter of a King, I have never been entirely convinced of its merit or utility. It is better that we deal with the material suffering of the people before we devote our energies to matters of the least constitutional importance. That said, my brother hieromonk Stylianos has been much more convinced of the importance of this course than I, and were all-men of similar opinions then there would have been no need for the Holy Councils, so we shall have to wait and pray.

That is not to say, however, that Orthodoxy has not flourished in the absence of a king. Many of our fellow brothers in the Holy Church labour in republics, I would go so far as to guess that the majority do, and yet the Church is healthier now that it has been for quite some time.

If this is the way, however, then I ask for the prayers of the Ecumenical Patriarchy and the faithful of Pantocratoria that God will make His will known to us. We should pray for the foresight to see if those that seek the throne do so with a faithful heart and a just mind, and for the courage to reject those that do not meet with the high standards that the Office entails.

Once the dust has settled on this business, and once all men of this island live in harmony, then we would welcome a visit by your All-Holiness to our humble diocese. The Church in these lands has been as ravaged by war as has the rest of the peoples, and we ask for your assistance in putting the House of God in order.

Yours in Christ,

Eugenios of Anacea

ooc: The above post should have been posted in this account. ALAS.

Just to inform people, carry on.

New Donaghadee International Assistance Security Base, Kaitan-Leagran

Arthur nodded as he hopped from the jeep. "I will be sure to ask around. Prince Rupa, the Prince of Farinor, doesn't have much in the way of family but there are others who meet you criteria. However, the best I will be able to do is to produce guaranties that they will say yes if invited to take the throne of this nation. It's not likely any will be willing to apply. The way we were brought up, the willingness to actively seek a throne is often seen as, by its very nature, displaying an unfitness to hold it. No offense to the current candidates. Different cultures have different ways of looking at things. In any event, thank you for the ride of Godspeed."

New Amsterdam, C.S.R.D.

Kevin Rastel, Confederal Secretary of Foreign Affairs, adjusted his glasses as the young staffer entered the room. He set down the paper he was going over and gave her a polite smile. She was about the age of his youngest daughter. He tried to remember her name. He tried quite hard to show interest in everyone who worked for him but he had not yet had time to learn all their names. He found he couldn't remember hers so he simply said "G'day. Things going well in your department?"

"Yes, sir." she answered in the tone of nervous deference that almost all the Department's employees seemed to adopt towards him and which he very much wished they'd get over. He could tell by her accent that she was Lanerian. Molly? Mindy? He still couldn't remember.

"What do you have for me?" he asked, holding his hand out for the papers she was carrying.

"It's from our embassy in Amestria, sir." she answered.

Rastel nodded as he looked over the paper. "Just brilliant." he muttered sarcastically. "A fine example of an ENA education at work."

"ENA?" she asked.

"The École Nationale d'Administration or National School of Administration. It's a highly selective post-graduate school in Amestria. It tends to produce...technocrats, I guess is the best word. President Liscel went there." Rastel explained.

The staffer nodded. "Was there anything else, sir?"

"No." Rastel said, shaking his head. "I think I'll make her wait a bit for an answer. She tends to be highly sensitive about her own importance. A little wait might help her approach the situation a bit more realistically and respectfully. Or it might make her fly into a huff."

The staffer nodded and turned to leave. "Have a good day, sir."

Rastel started to nod and then paused. "Actually, would you mind bringing me the results of that study I ordered done on the possibility of a West Atlantic Security Community before you get started on anything else?"

"Yes, sir. I'll get it right away." And she went to do just that.

To: The Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran

His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Damoen Wasterin, Head of State of the Grand Kingdom of Aerion wishes to endow the Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran, and future government with A£15 billion for the future development of the nation with the stipulation that these monies will be used for healthcare, and social welfare. This comes directly from the Crown Prince Damoen Wasterin Foundation, and is the largest grant thus far. Officials of the foundation may come following the spending of the monies to inspect on their proper usage.

His Royal Highness wishes to also express that, though he has not yet taken the Crown of Aerion, he would welcome the Kaitan-Leagran as a protectorate or territory of the Grand Kingdom. In this fashion, the King of Aerion would ceremoniously be the Sovereign of Kaitan-Lagran with a Governor-General representing the Grand Kingdom ceremoniously, but the government would be fully decided by the provisional government. Kaitan-Lagran could then adopt the Aerionian currency if you wish, share economic strength with the Grand Kingdom, and lift your people up.

Sincerely,
Ansdune Solen
HRH's Private Secretary

----------------------------------------------------------------
(Delivered by Royal Diplomatic Courier in person to the Provisional-Government. The Royal Diplomatic Courier would have arrived by leer jet. Also sent electronically if possible)

As Ansdune sat, penning the letter that would be delivered personally by a Royal Courier as well as sent with electronic copy, he contemplated the fact the Prince had instructed him remotely to send such a letter. The Prince had been away at an undisclosed location at a Makan Buddhist monastery on retreat. The Prince must have somehow heard of the events transpiring. It troubled Ansdune, and others of the Royal Household that the Prince continued to refuse the Crown on the basis of humility it seemed though the Great Officers of State continued to run the day to day business of government, and the Princess Ameria Wasterin represented the nation in foreign relations as Lady High Chancellor, chief diplomatic officer. The Prince seemed sincerely concerned with the nation, rather than allowing it to be economically exploited by Aerionian megacorporations that the Prince seemed to be against more and more as he converted to Buddhism.

New Donaghadee International Assistance Security Base, Kaitan-Leagran

Arthur nodded as he hopped from the jeep. "I will be sure to ask around. Prince Rupa, the Prince of Farinor, doesn't have much in the way of family but there are others who meet you criteria. However, the best I will be able to do is to produce guaranties that they will say yes if invited to take the throne of this nation. It's not likely any will be willing to apply. The way we were brought up, the willingness to actively seek a throne is often seen as, by its very nature, displaying an unfitness to hold it. No offense to the current candidates. Different cultures have different ways of looking at things. In any event, thank you for the ride of Godspeed."


ooc: Hang on, what happened to our old friend Liam Mac Diarmaid? Has he lost his job now that the Commonwealth is the Confederation. Remind the Fiefdom to send a basket of fruit. I am sure there is an opening in Port Sunlight for the Conferation's Ambassador there.

IC: http://i54.photobucket.com/albums/g83/tsarnoel/DeasrargleRoyalSeal.png
The Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran

TO: Mister Kevin Rastel, Confederal Secretary of Foreign Affairs
FROM: Aibhlinn Whelan, Assitant of His Grace The Bishop of Freetown C/O The Council of Elders, Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran

Sir,

Please forgive the nature of this letter, but myself and other members of the Provisional Government know not to whom to turn with our enquiry. To that end, therefore, we should be grateful if you could please forward the following letter to the relevant Confederation Department and/or Secretariat or, alternatively, distribute this to those members of the Confederation to whom it applies.

Many Thanks,

Aibhlinn Whelan

File Enclosed: [ScanSoft Ware has detected no viruses or spyware in this file]

To Whom it may concern,

Following informal discussions with Prince Arthur of the Royal House of Thorland, it has come to our attention that the current proceedings under-way to find a suitable King of our island [please find enclosed copy correspondence for your records] may have had the reserve effect to our original intentions.
Since those of Royal Blood within the Confederation at large and the Danaan High Kingdom in particular possess a more 'modern' view of the nature of their Office, the act of competiting for a vacant Throne may strike them as something both undesirable and potentially deterious to those values to which they aspire. That is to say, a Confederation Prince or Princess might not feel it appropriate to enter the above 'competition' for the very reason that it is something that is not expected of a Confederation Royal.

This view, of comparing the dignity of their Office and their obligations to others, is one of the primary reasons why many in the Kingdom desired a candidate from your lands to compete for the Throne. The irony, therefore, is that these same values to which the Kingdom aspires are also those that will realistically prevent any such offer being made on the part of a Royal.

We would be grateful, therefore, if you could aid our enqueries by providing us with a list of Confederation Royals that would fit the following criteria:
a) Young (Older than the Age of 16 but younger than 35)
b) Not directly in the line of succession for their respective throne or sufficiently removed from it to make their accession a remote circumstance
c) Non-Christian in order to avoid sectarian tensions.
d) Known to be willing to assume the Throne of Kaitan-Leagran, if called upon to do so (though we accept that without asking this might make it difficult.)

We would also be grateful if you could forward this letter to an agency of The Resurgent Dream in order that we may obtain the postal address of one: Prince Rupa of Farinor

You have our profound gratitude in advance for any aid that is lent. If you incur any fees in the obtaining of this information then please forward these to the Serene Democratic People's Fiefdom that has, kindly, agreed to pay for the expenses in this regard. These can be contacted at:
Ministry of Finance
227 Tepemaxaclo Boulevard
Port Sunlight
Serene Democratic People's Fiefdom

Many thanks,

Patrick O'Neill
On behalf of the Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran

To: The Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran

His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Damoen Wasterin, Head of State of the Grand Kingdom of Aerion wishes to endow the Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran, and future government with A£15 billion for the future development of the nation with the stipulation that these monies will be used for healthcare, and social welfare. This comes directly from the Crown Prince Damoen Wasterin Foundation, and is the largest grant thus far. Officials of the foundation may come following the spending of the monies to inspect on their proper usage.

His Royal Highness wishes to also express that, though he has not yet taken the Crown of Aerion, he would welcome the Kaitan-Leagran as a protectorate or territory of the Grand Kingdom. In this fashion, the King of Aerion would ceremoniously be the Sovereign of Kaitan-Lagran with a Governor-General representing the Grand Kingdom ceremoniously, but the government would be fully decided by the provisional government. Kaitan-Lagran could then adopt the Aerionian currency if you wish, share economic strength with the Grand Kingdom, and lift your people up.

Sincerely,
Ansdune Solen
HRH's Private Secretary


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The Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran

To: M. Ansdune Solen

Sir,
Please convey our deepest, heartfelt thanks to His Royal Highness The Crown Prince for his most generous gift. Please do not think that we are devoting undue attentions to the manner of our Head of State, or are ignorant of the plight of our people. Despite occasional appearances, the vast majority of the work of the Provisional Government is devoted to alleviating the suffering of our people. The gift of A£15 billion will be solely used for benefit of the people, in creating the necessary emergency housing for those displaced by the recent hurricane or violence, and also the provision of food and medicine to those that require it. Prior to His Royal Highness' gift, we were unsure as to whether this could all occur before next winter. Now, we are confident that most people will have adequate medical and security cover by mid-summer at the latest.

As for the kindly gift of Aerion lordship, we do not so much reject this proposal as politely state that this excellent suggestion will be considered and possibly enacted at a later juncture. Many Royals have travelled far to the island in order to make their cases for the Throne, and thus it is only fair that we hear them. To invite them to our homes and then to say that the Head of State is to His Royal Highness would be discourteous and we hope that he will understand this. If, however, no one becomes available or is suitable for the task, then we will politely request that we return to the Crown Prince's generous offer.

Until that time, therefore, we remain His Royal Highness most obedient, and grateful servants.

Patrick O'Neill
On behalf of the Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran

ooc: btw, after comments regarding my 'islamist' crest (which are entirely legitimate considering I stole it from Libya), I have produced a new one. Do people like this or shall I revert to the rather scary eagle/blackbird?

TO: Aibhlinn Whelan, Assitant of His Grace The Bishop of Freetown C/O The Council of Elders, Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran
FROM: The Honourable Kevein Rastel, Confederal Secretary of Foreign Affairs

Dear sir,

There is no impropriety in your letter. As you might know, the Confederal Government is thoroughly committed to supporting and assisting all the royal houses contained within the Confederated Peoples in their legitimate relations of state with foreign dynasties and governments. It also goes without saying that the Confederated Peoples takes great interest in the future of Kaitan-Leagran. The Fiefdom does not need to cover any expenses of any sort. This all falls well within the realm of our ordinary duties and is covered by the Confederal budget.

The royals of whom you wished to know are: Princess Rebecca ni Beaumayn, Princess Rachel ni Beaumayn, Prince Mutaib, Prince Khaled, Prince Abdul, Prince Faisal, Princess Diet and Princess Yehenara.If there is any specific information about these persons you would wish to be informed of, please let me know.

His Highness of Farinor does not have an ordinary posting address. Please send official mail through the Confederal Embassy in your nation or through your embassy to the Confederated Peoples. It will be forwarded to His Highness.

Sincerely,
Keven Rastel

((OOC: The Commonwealth institutions didn't automatically dissolve. They are the basis of the Confederal civil service. They were just placed entirely under the authority of Congress and lost their quasi-governmental status.))

Prince Pyetr nodded and said after toasting his entourage with another glass of wine, "I would be honored to be hosted at the Diocesan Palace, your holiness. Of course, I can leave my entourage to find another form of lodging, since it is all a rather large delegation." The Prince leaned in and muttered, "Especially Feofil." Prince Pyetr thought that Feofil V was a nuisance to this expedition, even though it was customary for the Valerian Orthodox Church to send a metropolitan or a bishop to establish relations with the various branches of Orthodoxy in the world. Feofil was also noted as being a rather mediocre metropolitan, who was often seen getting drunk; it was rumored that he beat his wife and that he gambles away church funds. More often than not, these were just rumors spread by his detractors, but the part about his drunkenness was verifiable.

"Well, I am sorry for underestimating the current situation in your realm, but Feofil and my father, Alexander III, insisted. I was planning on coming with my friends and a handful of household guards, but alas..." Pyetr broke into a sweat. His face felt hot from the reaction with the alcohol he had been drinking, which reminded him to speak up about it. "You may have noticed my face - red like a cherry, hahaha. I am allergic to alcohol, but that doesn't mean I can't handle alcohol." Pyetr's friends laugh, while one of the female courtiers belched loudly.

"Well, let's get going, shall we?" Pyetr approached the convoy with a handful of guards while his friends, the rest of the guards, and Feofil waited for the Valerians to deploy their own jeeps to follow the convoy. Pyetr was curious to see the Diocesan Palace and to see the extent of Freetown. It would be the land that he will be lording over as the Head of State, if he were chosen. The only thing was that he had to ride in the jeep with a schismatic...

The outrider merely nodded and kick started the motorcycle into life, the two cars also revved their incredibly deep sounding engines and coasted away, Dyer merely nodding to the corporal as they turned around.

“Well, that was fun, wonder what kind of wine they have around here?” Dyer muttered as he looked at the rolling countryside.

“Told you.” replied Bratcher with a shrug.
“I…see.” Replied Sturm with a raised eyebrow.

The cars picked their way though the streets and urban areas before heading onto a smaller road that apparently lead to An Bealach Bui.

Freetown Dock


"Well, I am sorry for underestimating the current situation in your realm, but Feofil and my father, Alexander III, insisted. I was planning on coming with my friends and a handful of household guards, but alas..." Pyetr broke into a sweat. His face felt hot from the reaction with the alcohol he had been drinking, which reminded him to speak up about it. "You may have noticed my face - red like a cherry, hahaha. I am allergic to alcohol, but that doesn't mean I can't handle alcohol." Pyetr's friends laugh, while one of the female courtiers belched loudly.


"Riiiiight," said the Bishop as the Prince's party laughed, "Well I am sure that the reaction makes an interesting....party trick of some sort."

When the Prince proposed that they 'get going', needless to say the Bishop was only to happy to oblige.

"This way, Your Highness."

After they were both secure in the lead jeep, and the rest of the Prince's rather large delegation or had either climbed into other I.A.A. jeeps or had 'unpacked' their own Valerian transport, the convoy set off.

Though there wasn't much left standing around the docks, safe the rusting remains of old cranes and the rubble of several warehouses, as the convoy made its way into Freetown the Prince would have noticed that much more of Freetown was left standing (if bullet-ridden) in the centre. They passed the now seemingly traditional view of citizens of the capital queuing at Aid Stations for food, while others were being seen to by Commonwealth and Fiefdom doctors. As the convoy approached the centre, the number of roadblocks increased and the number of sullen militiamen decreased. The Provisional Government had attempted to create a 'safe-zone' in the Capital's centre and use Fiefdom/Confederation peacekeepers to gradually move from the centre to the periphery, disarming the unofficial militias (though it was often difficult to separate those miltia that were party to the Ceasefire from those that, quite simply, were neighbourhood lunatics with more Kalashnikovs than sense).

The Bishop was very careful to arrange the route so that the convoy passed the grand Sacred Heart Cathedral Church, that was built as a triumphant imitation of the Pantheon in Rome. O'Neill wasn't sure if the Orthodox heretic would be impressed by the leading Catholic Church of Kaitan-Leagran, but he wasn't overtly fussed if not. He was still impressed by the structure, even after all these years.

The Diocesan Palace was not far away from the Cathedral (which makes sense, after all). It was, like the Cathedral, largely a neo-classical edifice that was still very grand after years of neglect. Though the palace stood in its own grounds, the once formal gardens was filled with a mirade of tents and bunkers that made up both the Headquarters for Confession of St. Teresa of Avila and as a I.A.A. Security Base and aid station.

"We have taken the liberty of 'acquiring' some of the surrounding buildings for the rest of your delegation," said the Bishop, indicating the town houses that lined the road upto the Palace.

Though rather large, the delegation would have discovered that only part of each building had been restored. Thus, while Feofil would have discovered that one floor of the town house assigned to him was decorated (though filled with the sort of second-hand cheap furniture that Aid Societies sent out to places like Freetown), the next two floors would have been home to various manner of seagulls.

"The Palace is large enough to accomodate a number of your...'friends'," said the bishop, haunted again by the image of a belching teenager.

'The Palace', once inside the impressive entrance hall, was less of a gentile abode of a Bishop but more a buzzing workplace of pseudo-bureaucrats and I.A.A. workers. The Bishop had been conscientous enough, though, to assign the Prince the a number of large suites in the East Wing. These were, he hoped, suitably impressive but also battered by years of neglect.

'Though I am sure that you will have sufficient fun by your own devices,' he thought as he motioned the Prince into the St. Columba Suite. He then began to worry if he had secured locked the drinks cabinet in the suite, and also removed the statues of the various saints. He certainly hoped so.

Allowing the Prince sufficient time to become adjusted to his surroundings, and hopefully sober-up alittle, the Bishop sent his Chaplain to invite the Prince to the sun terrace in order to have that 'little chat' that the Prince referred to at the docks.


An Bealach Bui

If Freetown reflected the faded, bullet-ridden glory of the old Finaran Duchy, An Bealach Bui was different. As the Midlonian cars made their way over the mountain road to the city, they would have been positively assaulted with the scene below.

Freetown was, after all, something of a dead city. People still lived there, of course, but it produced nothing safe grim intentions. Freetown consumed rather than produced wealth, drawing in the meagre contributions of thousands of parishes to keep its embittered show on the road. Yet even this money could not safe the city from the unemployment and degradation that it found itself in.

An Bealach Bui was different. It lived. It possessed a thriving fishing industry and, thanks partly to Freetown's sacrifice on the altar of sectarian violence, it had survived with significantly less damage. Well, there was still no running water, but at least the people of An Bealach Bui had been able to preserve what they had to a much better degree than the capital. It was glittered with the domes of what seemed to be hundreds of domes. Its Cathedral towered above all in its Pantobyzantine Glory. And, of course, there was the Monastry that not so much sat upon a surrounding hill but encompassed it entirely.

As the Midlonian convoy approached the city, they would have encountered the ever-present roadblocks. Except, however, that these were not manned by the soldiers of the Fiefdom but instead the bearded and grim faces of the Pantocratorian Crusade for Anacea. Unlike the professionals, though, the men at the checkpoints around An Bealach Bui had at least been briefed as to the Midlonian arrival, and the convoy was ushered to the steps of the great cathedral itself where Eugenios decked in the golden vestments of a bishop, stood amongst a vast crowd of people.

"Welcome," he said in a heavy Pantocratorian Greek accent, "to An Bealach Bui, and to Anacea Gentlemen."

The transmission came:

His Royal Highness would like to inform the authorities of Kaitan-Leagran that he will be arriving in Kaitan-Leagran in order to personally speak to the officials of government, discuss the possibility of Kaitan-Legran becoming a protectorate or territory of the Grand Kingdom of Aerion, and assess if further aide from the Grand Kingdom is neede in restoring Kaitan-Leagran to stability. He will be arriving with two aircraft

Ansdune Solen
HRH's Private Secretary

The Prince

It had been some time since the Prince had traveled internationally, since fleeing the nation for safety in the aftermath of King Wasterin X's death and subsequent political instability some years back. That instability had been brought back under control, however, and for some time now the Crown Prince had been Head of State of the Grand Kingdom.

Damoen had been at the Great Monastery of the Makan Buddhists for some months now, and he knew many had questioned his ability to govern the nation. The Great Monastery was like an monastic city, an huge multi-tiered structure of varying ancient stone buildings that housed thousands of Makan Buddhist monks. It was isolated from normal modern civilization, there was no electricity and it was off the main grids of the Grand Kingdom. The Great Monastery had always been in a protected wilderness reserve by various governments, or largely ignored because of its remoteness in the mountains of the Grand Kingdom. Now it had been since King Wasterin X in an royally protected wilderness reserve with limited airspace, and travel. It could be compared to a reservation in other nations, governed by the Makan Buddhist High Lama. The only ones who could truly contact him there were his sister, the Lord High Steward, and his private secretary.

The monks were not totally isolated from communications, however, and the Makan Buddhist officials did have modern papers brought on the weekly remote deliveries along with other supplies. The Prince had read of the situation in Kaitan-Leagran, and had decided it needed his personal attention. It was an act of charity to which he chose to donate 15 billion of the Crown Damoen Wasterin Foundation's funds to social welfare, and health in Taikan-Leagran. Though he was sure there was other issues, such as basic infrastructure that may need attention.

Gulf of Vasconia

The HArMS Esona, named for the city of the Grand Kingdom, floated inside the Gulf of Vasconia as far from any coastline as possible. With it was HArMS Dakeln, a frigate class ship. The HArMS was an V/STOL light carrier, much smaller than a carrier or supercarrier of the Royal Aerionian Navy. It measured only 600 feet, and was about the size of a very large cargo ship. This was for today the Royal Ship, as it carried His Royal Highness Crown Prince Damoen Wasterin onboard. It did not appear prepared for combat, with only one frigate as escort. On the top deck could be seen various helicopters, and VTOL aircraft arranged. If hailed it would state its mission, and purpose of being there by the Kaitan-Leagran provisional government.

Two aircraft launched vertically off the deck of the HArMS Esona, and flew into the sky. Its twin-rotors shifted position, and it flew toward the island of Kaitan-Leagran.

Through the Skies of Kaitan-Leagran

Two black Takares Skybird VT219s flew over the skies of Taikan-Leagran. Takares Skybird was a twin-rotor aircraft (like the Osprey V-22 but moremodern) capable of VTOL (Vertical Take Off and Landing) as well as STOL (Short take off and landing). It was capable of cruising through the skies with its jet engines, however. It was large enough to hold thirty men in each, though one was holding an bulletproof SUV and two motorycles. Due to modernizations in the technology, it was capable of carrying such a heavy payload

Onboard the Takares Skybird, the Prince sat with his First Valet, his most personal servant with him at all times, and a first class private secretary from the Office of the Royal Private Secretary. Along with them were 10 Royal Bodyguards, the division of the Royal Guards who directly protected the Sovereign and members of the Royal Family. Accompanying them were two squadrons of marines, for a total of 16 Royal Marines. They had brought satellite phones, and communication equipment as needed as well as supplies if needed.

The Prince had chosen not to make public his trip to Kaitan-Leagran due to the current political views on him by many in his own Royal Government as having neglected his duties after spending months in the Buddhist monastery, despite the Great Officers of State managing the government well, and the controversy of a trip to Kaitan-Leagran would cause. He thought "They need my help more than the wealthy who constantly clamor at me in Aerion". For the average citizen who were megacorporate "wage slaves" in the Grand Kingdom of Aerion, it was difficult for the Prince to implement policies because of the megacorporate control. The Prince would soon change this though.........

Prince Damoen was withdrawn, as usual, and sat there quietly in his seat. The man was a private person, he isolated himself, yet it was not the isolation of power, for he stayed away from the sycophants and politicians though broadened his view of the world. The First Valet, a man in his twenties sat beside the Prince. His name was Shaen Velden, he had been a trusted servant of the Prince for some time, and he came from a family with a long line of servants that had served the Royal Family for many years.

The First Valet questioned speaking, as the Prince gazed out the window at the landscape below at the coast of Kaitan-Leagran as the aircraft made their way inward. Though he cleared his throat, and spoke to the Prince "Your Highness, why are we are you traveling to this dangerous place. I have heard the nation is very unstable." The Prince did not look for a moment, then turned his head, "It is our duty as human beings to help others that are in need." The First Valet did not speak any further, for it was the habit of late for the Prince to recite philosophical answers after having spent so much time at the Great Monastery of the Makan Buddhists.

The pilots of the aircraft radioed to the proper provisional government channels as they knew them, "This is the Aerionian aircraft, carrying your guest from the Grand Kingdom of Aerion.“ They intentionally left out the Prince's name, and were intentionally vague just in case someone was listening on the channels.

TO: Aibhlinn Whelan, Assitant of His Grace The Bishop of Freetown C/O The Council of Elders, Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran
FROM: The Honourable Kevein Rastel, Confederal Secretary of Foreign Affairs

Dear sir,

There is no impropriety in your letter. As you might know, the Confederal Government is thoroughly committed to supporting and assisting all the royal houses contained within the Confederated Peoples in their legitimate relations of state with foreign dynasties and governments. It also goes without saying that the Confederated Peoples takes great interest in the future of Kaitan-Leagran. The Fiefdom does not need to cover any expenses of any sort. This all falls well within the realm of our ordinary duties and is covered by the Confederal budget.

The royals of whom you wished to know are: Princess Rebecca ni Beaumayn, Princess Rachel ni Beaumayn, Prince Mutaib, Prince Khaled, Prince Abdul, Prince Faisal, Princess Diet and Princess Yehenara.If there is any specific information about these persons you would wish to be informed of, please let me know.

His Highness of Farinor does not have an ordinary posting address. Please send official mail through the Confederal Embassy in your nation or through your embassy to the Confederated Peoples. It will be forwarded to His Highness.

Sincerely,
Keven Rastel


It was, concluded Aibhlinn Whelan to herself, a very nice letter. Even if she didn't have any further enqueries, she no doubt would have sent a thank-you letter regardless.
And it was quick too, she mused. Life in Kaitan-Leagran was a slow thing in the absence of many forms of radio or telecommunications devices. If she sent a missive to...say...the parish priest of Portdavid then a reply might take weeks to arrive, months if the fighting was bad.
Aibhlinn patted the computer before her with some pride. She had to say that she liked it, despite her initial misgivings. It wasn't really very much, a somewhat ancient cast-off from a school in Laneria, but still in was a wonderful machine to someone used to typewriters.
'And now,' she thought, 'for a reply.'

Sir!

I thank you for you kindly letter of she typed.

"Whoa whoa whoa," said a voice behind her. The voice, seemingly inevitably, originated from Father Bryan Peters, the Chaplain to the Bishop. In all her years as a secretary, Aibhlinn had discovered that two sorts of priests existed. There were the charmingly befuddled ones, who claimed (and quite often succeeded) in knowing nothing of practical matters. Minds on higher matters, or too much Communion wine. Either way, she frequently had to write their letters and put up shelving for priests like these.
The other kind were the polar opposite. Having become experts on Mass, on canon law and on the writings of Boniface II, they assumed that they would be experts on everything else. Father Bryan, no offence, was one of those priests.
"Is something the matter Father?" she asked.

"'Sir!'?" he asked, leaning over her shoulder and using the one of the corners of the stack of papers he was carrying to point at the screen, "Isn't 'Sir!' how Allaneans start letters?"

"I didn't think it really mattered," said Aibhlinn.

"Oh, it does," said the priest, "They're not exactly the most popular of people, though I hear there was a coup recenty."

Aibhlinn Whelan didn't really know who Allaneans were, or particularly care, but she did mind getting letters finished.
Sir![delete]

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The Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran

TO: Mister Kevin Rastel, Confederal Secretary of Foreign Affairs
FROM: Aibhlinn Whelan, Assitant of His Grace The Bishop of Freetown C/O The Council of Elders, Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran

Dear Mr. Rastel,

Thank you kindly for your letter of yesterday's date.

In connection with that, I have been instructed by the Provisional Government to make the following enquiries:
a) Could you please provide details as to the Province/Nation from which Princess Rebecca ni Beaumayn, Princess Rachel ni Beaumayn, Prince Mutaib, Prince Khaled, Prince Abdul, Prince Faisal, Princess Diet and Princess Yehenara originate.
b) Is it possible to enquire as to the approximate ages of the above mentioned Royals.
c) Regarding the very personal nature of one's faith, do any of the above candidates hold to a broad religious position (or, to put it more crudely, their religion) that can be identified with some ease.

Your assistance in this matter has been very much appreciated, and the Provisional Government will note your kindness in the years to come.

Kind Regards,
Aibhlinn Whelan

"How's that?" she asked, turning to the Chaplain once she had printed off and signed the letter.
"Much better," he said stiffly, "I can take it to the Telex machine if you want?"
"That would very kind of you Father."

While Father Peters was in the next room, Aibhlinn Whelan prepared her second letter...

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The Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran

TO: The Right Honourable George Begala, Confederation Ambassador to Kaitan-Leagran (or, his replacement in event of his reassignment)
FROM: Aibhlinn Whelan, Assistant of His Grace The Bishop of Freetown C/O The Council of Elders, Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran

Dear Sir,

We write further to our correspondence with Mr Kevin Rastel, The Confederal Secretary of Foreign Affairs [see enclosed file for your reference], who suggested that the best way to send a letter to a Commonwealth Member was via your embassy.

To that end, therefore, we would be most grateful if you could forward this letter to His Majesty, The King of Farinor (which, as you will no doubt be aware, falls with the curtilage of the Danaan High Kingdom).

Thank you in advance for any assistance lent,

Yours sincerely,

Aibhlinn Whelan

File Enclosed: [ScanSoft Ware has detected no viruses or spyware in this file]

TO: His Highness, Prince Rupa of Farinor
FROM: The Council of Elders, The Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran

Your Highness,

As you may, or may not ne aware, the island of Kaitan-Leagran has recently ceased its long civil war and hopes to move to the broad sunlit uplands of freedom and equality.

In order to faciliate this process of change, it has been the desire of the Provisional Government and the People of Kaitan-Leagran to cement our march to nationhood with a constitutional monarch. This, of course, requires a person of royal blood.

Following informal discussions with your brother Royal, Prince Arthur of Thorland, it has come to the attention of ourselves that it might be prudent to invite a potential King, as opposed to assuming that they would propose themselves. This is only meet and right so to expect, since the Office of King is universally excepted by all men to be one that is Divinely ordained and not one that, in some eyes, should be competed over.

To that end, therefore, we thought it prudent to enquire as to whether the Royal House of Farinor possessed any person or persons that might considering assuming the Throne of Kaitan-Leagran if asked upon to do. It is our understanding, again based upon discussions with Prince Arthur of Thorland, that the Royal House of Farinor might not necessarily be in possession of sufficient numbers to warrant the loss of a single Prince or Princess to the shores of a foreign land. This, of course, we entirely understand.

However, using the principle established by the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saxe-Coburg-Gotha#Kingdom_of_Belgium), that a Noble House may ascend to Royality if properly called upon so to do, does the Principality of Farinor possess any appropriate members of Noble Houses in absence of a Prince or Princess.

We hope that our advances are not to forward and thank you in advance for any assistance lent,

Yours Faithfully,

Patrick O'Neill
On Behalf of the Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran

“Your Grace.” Dyer got out of the car and bowed deeply, sow low infact he nearly banged his head on his cane as he lifted his head back up.

“May I present Lord Gregory Sturm of the Noble House of Sturm. May their shield protect the Greater Kingdom from harm.” the rest of the sentence was half muttered out of sheer courtesy.
“Any my adjunct, Bratcher.” he merely pointed his cane at Bratcher as he donned a trilby hat, casting his eyes in shadow.

"Arise Gentlemen," said the Bishop with a quizzical look, "The City of An Bealach Bui extends its welcome to you. I trust that your journey here was not too.." He paused for a moment, searching the English Dictionary in his head for the right term. "laxative?..no, I mean, challenging" Eugenios had served as the Bishop of Anacea for nearly five years now and, needless to say, he didn't really like it. He found it cold and dusty, though he was also intrigued by the Midlonians. "I recall your excellent televison broadcasts," he said as the delegation left their car, "I somehow thought that you would be taller. Never mind. Please allow me to give a short tour of this city." Which seeing as Eugenios was a fairly stuffy Pantocratorian, and that he didn't really like the idea of a King or of these Midlonian heretics, meant that it would be a short tour. So the cathedral....and...er...that's it.

The following profiles were forwarded to the Provisional Government:

Name: Rebecca ni Beaumayn
Style: Her Highness, Princess Rebecca of Selinia
Religion: Conservative Judaism
Age: 20
Principality:Selinia

Name: Rachel ni Beaumayn
Style: Her Highness, Princess Rachel of Selinia
Religion: Conservative Judaism
Age: 18
Principality: Selinia

Name: Mutaib bin Abdu Al Effendi
Style: His Highness, Prince Mutaib of Amalad
Religion: Sunni Islam
Age: 35
Principality: Amalad

Name: Khaled bin Abdy Al Effendi
Style: His Highness, Prince Khaled of Amalad
Religion: Sunni Islam
Age: 30
Principality: Amalad

Name: Abdul Habachi
Style: His Highness, Prince Abdul of Kar
Religion: Shia Islam
Age: 25
Principality: Kar

Name: Phan Thi Diet
Style: Her Highness, Princess Diet of Legon
Religion: Buddhism
Age: 25
Principality: Legon

Name: I Yehenara
Style: Her Highness, Princess Yehenara of Zeng
Religion: Confucianism
Age: 25
Principality: Zeng

Rain pounded the already slick streets of Ianapalis mercilessly. Somewhere to the north, perhaps as far as St Martin, the sky lit up with a flash of lightning; like clockwork, the thunder came rolling in after a few seconds. The first large storm of the season did quite a lot to quell the tensions between the Ianapalis mob and the revolutionary government desperately trying to solve a crisis of its own making. The arrival of General Ranalte’s troops had smashed the counterrevolution for now, but government-ordered price controls on already rationed foodstuffs did little to quiet the booming black market or feed the hungry.

Still, in the western quarter of the city, it was almost possible to believe that normalcy reigned. Despite the lashing rain, large Gull Flags, interspersed with smeared signs crying ‘Long Live the Republic!’ ‘Give Alex a taste of the ol’ Shieldian Steel!’ or simply ‘Death to the Cossacks!’, hung banner-style from upper story windows. The Assembly was in recess as members rushed back to their home districts to stump for the upcoming elections. The whole complex on Jameston Place was quiet, except for a few janitors and clerks. Down the street, half the lights were off in the Gallaga Office.

Admiralty House, however, like a storm-beaten ship keeping watch off an enemy port, took no holiday. Its ancient red brick façade weathered the rain like a grizzled old sailor disdainfully shaking salt water from his brow. Admiral Martin Hansfield, the professional head of the young Republic’s most important military institution, strode meaningfully through the heavy oaken doors, hardly even bothering to notice the salutes of the marine sentries or thank the young rating who had opened the door for him.

Ignoring the reception hall, Hansfield pushed his way past another pair of saluting marines and a door marked ‘Restricted’. There, an elevator was opened with a key hung around the neck. Hansfield entered the elevator and pushed the ‘down’ button. He had entered on the ground floor.

Many suspect but few know of the vast underground bunkers in and around the Admiralty House. Constructed at first as a device to contain the burgeoning clerical needs of the Admiralty, the age of the long-range bomber convinced the Navy that these subterranean lodgings could be useful as a protection for the vital staff work being done. Over time, the Admiralty Caverns, as they were affectionately known, had grown under neighboring buildings and even across the street to connect with Jameston’s basements. At the height of Cavern Fever, as a seven-month building binge during the Effitian War had been called, there were even plans to build an underwater submarine dock, to let the naval staff and the Cabinet slip away in case Ianapalis were occupied by a hostile power. The idea had progressed to the schematic stage. Needless to say, as the campaign against Effit grew in success, these ludicrous plans were abandoned.

The elevator shuddered to a half at Hansfield’s office. On the same level as the Operations Center, Hansfield’s office was large and well-appointed and stuffed with texts on navigation, steam propulsion, charts, and the various other trivialities key to the smooth running of a modern naval force. In the days of the ancien régime, Hansfield’s position would have been known as ‘First Sea Lord’.

However, Hansfield did not exit into his office. He turned another key in the elevator and it continued even further underground.

In naming conventions, the Republic had radically shattered every time-honored tradition which the Navy held. In practice, however, the Admiralty was administered in much the same way as it was before the Revolution. ‘First Sea Lord’ had changed to ‘Grand Admiral’; ‘First Lord of the Admiralty’ had changed to (the rather long and ridiculous) ‘Subdirector of War in Charge of the Navy’; and various ships with ‘reactionary’ names -- such as Prince of Shadoran, Princess Royal, and Queen Jessica -- were changed to properly respect the revolutionary spirit, such as Republic, Liberty, and Haldsborough.

In practicalities, the Admiralty was still divided into five departments: Operations, responsible for the day-to-day strategic dispersal of the Fleet; Ordinance, responsible for the design and implementation of naval weapons and vessels; Shipyards and Provisions, responsible for the maintenance and supply of the ships; Personnel, responsible for the handling of promotions, rating changes, and other human resources duties; and Intelligence.

This fifth department, the Naval Intelligence Office (most commonly abbreviated NIO), was the newest, most secret, and most appreciated under the Republic. The NIO maintained agents in nearly every major port across NationStates. Some were native Shieldians carefully trained and inserted into the host countries, some were naval attachés with diplomatic immunity, but by far the largest number were simple native dockworkers to whom a few bits of gold were far more important than seemingly minor information about ships and sailing schedules during peacetime.

Ground operations, however, were only a minor part of the NIO’s duties. Far more important was the vast network of listening and triangulation stations in maintained on every scrap of Iansislean territory around the globe. These constantly intercepted foreign naval signals and relayed them back to the Admiralty House, where they found their way to Lenore Room.

Far more than the simple office on the third story of the aboveground Admiralty House for which it was named, Lenore Room had spread across the entire bottom third of the Caverns. Comprised of dozens of the most brilliant minds on the Shield and the country’s largest bank of computers, Lenore Room led the Shield’s most advanced intelligence program. During times of peace, the Lenore Room experts worked on cracking routine foreign codes. The shelves were filled with decoded dispatches from dozens of nations. Those to be expected -- Chaing Maï, Magnus Valerius, and Effit -- were there, as were some rather unusual names, such as nominal friends Walmington on Sea and Lunatic Retard Robots. During time of war, all efforts were directed against the adversary; the latest triumph of Lenore Room was being able to decode some lower priority signals passed between the Valerian hand puppets and their Valinor masters.

Knowledge of the effectiveness of Lenore Room was a carefully guarded state secret. Still, most high-ranking officers knew there was some form of highly advanced intelligence at the Admiralty’s disposal; this combined with the Navy’s predilection to distrust new technology. At sea, admirals demanded that only ‘messages of the utmost priority’ be passed by wireless. Most signals were passed by flag hoist or by signal light.

It was into this world that Admiral Hansfield exited. Almost at once, he was surrounded by three types of people: civilian code breakers in white shirts and narrow ties, naval officers in dark blue blazers, and -- looking like some sort of bizarre hybrid between the first two -- ratings in their blue and white jumpers. All three looked in desperate need of natural light. Everyone was trying to grab his attention with some sort of ‘vital report’, but Hansfield shouldered through all of them. He was long past due at an important meeting with the head of Naval Intelligence, Rear Admiral White, and the Director of War himself, Lawrence Madders. He walked in during the middle of a Foreign Affairs presentation. The speaker -- “Edwards”, according to his name tag -- looked up in annoyance at Madders, then continued lecturing.

“As I was saying, Kaitan-Leagran is a small island-nation in Vasconia. Its primary products are ethno-religious strife and terrorism. To help quell sectarian violence, there has been a recent de-Balkanization plan to introduce national unity through a monarchial system. As Kaitan-Leagran has no native aristocracy, they have decided to ‘import’ a royal family...”

“Let me stop you there,” Hansfield said. “Once again, I’d imagine that the Foreign Office has found itself completely outmaneuvered by the royalists and their Valerian lapdogs and you need the Navy to go attempt to salvage the situation before the ci-devant Princess Jessica becomes Queen of -- what did you say again? Kirstin-Legoland? -- well, that place anyhow. Just let me telephone Conroy; Argonaut is still at Rotterdam. She can have steam for thirty knots in an hour.”

“If the Admiral would be so kind as to read the material graciously provided by my office,” replied Edwards, “he would find that then émigrés have made no sign of giving up their claim to the throne of Iansisle for this third-world hellhole. Kaitan-Leagran will only accept a male who must forfeit all previous claims, and there’s simply no one like that left in the royal family.

“Now then: one person who has been tapped to contest the throne in Pyetr Alexandrovich --”

“Beg pardon?”

“Peter Alexanderson, Admiral. Second son of the Valerian Tsar. I assume you are familiar with Magnus Valerius? The country with whom we are currently at war? At any rate, Pyetr’s older brother Ivan Alexandrovich -- that’s John Alexanderson, Admiral -- in the current heir apparent. As the honored assembly is no doubt aware, in Valeria, the personality of the Tsar is an important factor in determining foreign policy. There is no hope of persuading Tsar Alexander to abandon his crusade against our Republic. However, the complete dominance of the Tsar is also Magnus Valerius’ weakness. Decapitate the adder and it does not matter how much poison he had carried.

“It is therefore the object of our foreign policy to remove the major obstacle to a Shieldo-Valerian truce: Tsar Alexander himself. However, while the Tsar remains with the Valinor, he is for all practical purposes unassailable. There are ways to draw him out: a state funeral, for example.”

Edwards let those words hang before continuing.

“Pyetr is walking into a Balkan-esque powder keg, the very image of an eastern schismatic. Foreign Office reports indicate that, while the Catholics, Orthodox, and Protestants in Kaitan-Leagran hate each other passionately, a Valerian is likely to be seen as an outsider and, as a possible claimant to the throne, hated with equal passion. All we need to do is find ourselves a Gavrilo Princip and hand him a gun.”

“Such a scheme is far beyond the capabilities of the Foreign Office,” said Admiral Hansfield.

“But hardly beyond those of the vaunted Naval Intelligence Office, I should think?” replied Edwards.

“Admiral Hansfield,” said Madders suddenly, speaking up for the first time, “this plan is fully endorsed by myself and the Republic’s war cabinet. You are to extend the Navy’s complete cooperation to Mr Edwards and his assistants in the planning and execution of such a scheme.”

“Yes, sir,” was all Hansfield could say to such a direct order.

((ooc: yes, (mostly) cleared with K-L and MV.))

The transmission came:

His Royal Highness would like to inform the authorities of Kaitan-Leagran that he will be arriving in Kaitan-Leagran in order to personally speak to the officials of government, discuss the possibility of Kaitan-Legran becoming a protectorate or territory of the Grand Kingdom of Aerion, and assess if further aide from the Grand Kingdom is neede in restoring Kaitan-Leagran to stability. He will be arriving with two aircraft

Ansdune Solen
HRH's Private Secretary

* * * *

"This is the Aerionian aircraft, carrying your guest from the Grand Kingdom of Aerion.“

The pilots of the Aerionian jet heard the usual static over the radio, before an Irish accent distinct of Kaitan-Leagran wafted over the airwaves.

"Ermmm," said the voice, "This radio thing just spoke."
"What?" came an older voice in the background, its english accent being tinted with enough Nahuatl to distinguish it as a voice from the Fiefdom.
The radio then clattered with the sounds of someone rushing across a room and, by the process of sod's law, seeming to smash into every item of furniture in there.
"Hello?" said the irish voice again.
"Get away from that," said the older voice, "Now pay attention, because if you want to be an air traffic control man then you need to memorise this sort of thing. Right *cough*...
This is Air Traffic Control Freetown. We've just checked your codes and you have been cleared to land Aerionian craft. You are being diverted to the provisional airfield at Freetown Castle. You can't miss the castle, it overlooks the capital quite noticably.
You're the first ones in this morning, Aerionian Aircraft, and you are therefore cleared for immediate landing. Over.
Now did you get all of th..?" Asked the radio before it clicked off.

Freetown Castle, which most people was a horrendous oxymoron but never mind, was a triumphant symbol of Finaran power when it was built in the first years of the twentieth century. Since then it had been home to a variety of tyrants, warlords and other savoury types that had attempted to buy-into the majesty of the place without necessarily adopting the Finaran undertones. That, and the fact that it was built in a distinct and rather unusual Dutch Renaissance style (being the first and last example of the style built on the island). The provisional airfield was just that, provisional and consisted of a line of less bumpy dirt cleared out of an area that was very bumpy.

Having been informed of the arrival of the Crown Prince (or if they weren't prior to such information, an important guest from the Grand Kingdom), a small welcoming party had been assembled. Flags of the Kingdom (which, thankfully, consisted of just green cloth) fluttered in the cold and dusty wind, while a small band 'borrowed' from a Commonwealth unit rehearsed...well, since there wasn't a national anthem yet...they rehearsed a nice spot of Beethoven which the Government hoped would suffice.

With the Catholic bishop entertaining the young Prince Pyetr (and blissfully unaware of the plots unfolding in Ianapalis), the welcoming party consisted of the Moderator and Stylianos and their attendant advisors and secretaries. They waited patiently, though not making much in the way of conversation (old wounds heal slowly), for the Crown Prince's craft to land

The following profiles were forwarded to the Provisional Government:

Name: Rebecca ni Beaumayn
Style: Her Highness, Princess Rebecca of Selinia
Religion: Conservative Judaism
Age: 20
Principality:Selinia

Name: Rachel ni Beaumayn
Style: Her Highness, Princess Rachel of Selinia
Religion: Conservative Judaism
Age: 18
Principality: Selinia

Name: Mutaib bin Abdu Al Effendi
Style: His Highness, Prince Mutaib of Amalad
Religion: Sunni Islam
Age: 35
Principality: Amalad

Name: Khaled bin Abdy Al Effendi
Style: His Highness, Prince Khaled of Amalad
Religion: Sunni Islam
Age: 30
Principality: Amalad

Name: Abdul Habachi
Style: His Highness, Prince Abdul of Kar
Religion: Shia Islam
Age: 25
Principality: Kar

Name: Phan Thi Diet
Style: Her Highness, Princess Diet of Legon
Religion: Buddhism
Age: 25
Principality: Legon

Name: I Yehenara
Style: Her Highness, Princess Yehenara of Zeng
Religion: Confucianism
Age: 25
Principality: Zeng

The Office of the Moderator, Church House, Freetown
45 minutes prior to the Crown Prince's Arrival

The Moderator smiled to himself as he read over the recent correspondence handed to him. Taking out a key he stored in his wallet, he opened the locked drawer in his desk and carefully placed the letter inside. Its contents would be revealed soon enough.
A knock came at his office door.
"This just came in Reverend," said the Moderator's private secretary, handing the list of Commonwealth royals to the clergyman.

The Moderator glanced over the list that had been prepared.

"What is this exactly Elliott?" he asked

"Bishop Stylianos took the liberty of contacting the Confederation and enquiring as to whether any non-Christian prince/princesses were available."

"Non-Christian?" asked the Moderator in a cold voice.

"'Best chance of promoting unity', he said".

"I suppose," grumbled the Moderator as he glanced through the list. Glanced was the word, as the Moderator then put the piece of paper down and began to look through his correspondence. An awkward silence ensued.

"And what is your reply to the Bishop, Reverend?" said the secretary after a time.

"Reply to what, Elliott?"

"The potential candidates?"

The Moderator gave his secretary a dark look, but picked up the list again and reread it.

"Islam, no. Buddhism, No. Confucianism...I don't even understand so no, and I distrust anyone that comes from 'Zeng'."

"And the Princesses from Selina?"

"Elliott, the people of this island hate each other to very bottom of their souls. They see no goodness in them and no redeeming features. But the one group that they hate more than each others are Jews."

"Reverend, that is a profoundly Anti-Semitic comment."

"It's the truth, Elliott, no matter how ugly it is, it's the truth. I hope that one day it will be different but until then, no."

"Thank you Reverend, I shall pass that on."

It seemed the pilots of the two black Takares Skybird VT219s decided to land vertically on the provisional airfield rather than risk the bumpiness. Not the normal fare for royal travel, the two black Takares Skybirds were brought in as it was thought they may be required to land in a rough area though this was suitable enough it seemed. The Prince's First Valet looked down, and commented "Perhaps we should have just brought the jet." The Prince glanced down, looking at the castle then the crowd gathered "How kind of them, even among these troubling times they still sent a welcome party." The Prince nodded to Royal Guard Captain Lokel across from him, "Captain, we are about to land." The Captain nodded, "Yes your Highness." He then began perparing for the landing.

The two craft came to an easy vertical landing as a helicopter would, and when they touched the ground the sound of the jets disengaging could be heard. The rear ramp of the craft descended, and the 8 Royal Guard disengaged down each side of the ramp ceremoniously. They wore dark burgundy uniforms, not their dress uniforms but rather their more regular daily uniform. After three guards touched the end of the ramp on the ground, they turned inward to flank the ramp as well as the end on the ground. The Prince rose within, and cleared his throat. The First Valet went back to grab the Prince's suitcase, and then came to flank him.

The Prince stood at the top of the ramp, with his First Valet behind him and Royal Guard Captain on the other. The Prince was approximately 6'2, with black hair, and Eastern Aerionian (Arabic and Native American look) features. His striking blue eyes were the feature of his Eastern Aerionian heritage, darker features but striking color in their eyes. He wore an simple black European cut suit, with an white shirt, and dark burgundy tie.

The Prince began descending the ramp, stepping with subtle stately confidence that was a marker of royal birth.

The Protestant and the Orthodox clergymen watched as the Takares Skybird VT219s circled over the makeshift landing strip. Some of the younger members of the delegation, those that could only remember the grinding civil war years, marvelled at the craft. Aeroplanes were rather transcedent on the island, at least in public perception. Every so often the warring miltia would look up and notice a large commercial aircraft waft over the island, carrying Confederation tourists to Pantocratoria or other destinations. But they never saw aircraft 'in the flesh' so to speak. And they certainly had never seen so advanced aeroplanes as the ones currently landing.

"So who is this again?" asd Stylianos to the Moderator in hushed tones. He had spent so much time instructing the Catholic Bishop's secretary in writing to the Kevin Rastel that he had quite lost touch with other events.

"Crown Prince Damoen Wasterin, Head of State of the Grand Kingdom of Aerion." whispered the Moderator.

"Right," said the Bishop still looking forward, "And why is he here, exactly?"

"His secretary asked if we wanted Kaitan-Leagran to be a protectorate of the Grand Kingdom."

"Right, and what was our reply?"

"Bishop Patrick sent a letter saying that we would consider it if no other candidate was deemed successful."

"Right. So why is he here?"

"I'm not entirely sure."

As the Crown Prince strode out, the 'borrowed' band began to warble-out some pleasant music that was mostly drowned out in the howl of the aircraft engines. Most people there didn't know who the Prince was, or that he was a royal, but his manner did indeed mark him out, if not as a member of a royal family than as a important person indeed.

"Welcome your r- oof!" began the Bishop before a sharp jab in his ribs from his Protestant counterpart silenced him.
"Welcome sir," said the Moderator, deliberately emphasising the word so as to not alert all present as to the high-profile nature of the Kingdom's latest guest, "To Kaitan-Leagran. May I introduce myself, I am the Moderator of the Presbyterian Synod, The Reverend Rev. Darragh Fitzjohns. And may I introduce my Orthodox counterpart, the Bishop of An Bealach Bui, His Grace Stylianos Amesimeku..."

"Sir," wheezed Amesimeku, rubbing his bruised ribs.

"And may we both welcome you to Freetown."

The Crown Prince smiled a diplomatic, but genuinely sincere smile to each of the men. He nodded to the Moderator, "Reverend," and then to the Bishop, "Your Grace." He extended his hand to each man in turn if they would shake it. He spoke, "I am glad to have come. I considered it of grave importance, your people are in need. This is what my visit is about, a people in need." He glanced around, "I thank you for your graciousness, the pomp was not necessary in such a time though I feel welcomed." He spoke now, getting to business, "In the Gulf I have an light carrier with 8 of these." He nodded to the aircraft, "Supplies, personnel, and several helicopters if they are needed anywhere for more relief than that already provided. I believe communications infrastructure is important, I have equipment to set up several satellite uplink communications stations if necessary anywhere in the nation it is needed. "

The Royal Guard now generally stood in a formation around the King, several walking over to the other aircraft that landed as Royal Marines began unloading the Crown Prince's SUV and the two escort motorcycles.

OOC: Hahahaha... I guess that belching teenager really got to the bishop. :D

Well, there was worse debauchery in European courts... just read Catherine the Great's Memoirs on the debauchery in the Russian court during her youth as princess consort to the future Peter III... or during her reign with all of her lovers, for example.

IC:

Prince Pyetr

Prince Pyetr rode along with the bishop with comfort as he finally packed away the wine bottles to sober up and get down to business. As the convoy passed through Freetown, the Prince was moved by the devastation that this country appeared to be him. It was a huge difference from the calm (but, of course, bustling) streets of Isangrad, the Valerian capital. Isangrad, with its 26 million inhabitants, would only appear as raped and degenerate as Freetown when and if The Valerian Empire fell forever. Maybe the young prince should forget about the parties and luxuries of his court to assist such people in the restructuring of their country and to recover their country. Maybe he will be their Jan Sobieski, their Mikhail Romanov, a man to rebuild a nation torn apart by factional strife, war, and general violence.

The Sacred Heart Cathedral was a spitting image of the Parthenon, and it was an oasis of a structure amongst the bullet-ridden surroundings of Freetown. The sullen air seemed to evaporate into something blessed around this cathedral. But, Pyetr wondered if it was consecrated as Orthodox or not. Whether or not, it was rather spectacular, but in the mind of Pyetr, it was still below par with the massive and beautiful St. Augustine (Sankt Avgustin) and St. Valerian (Sankt Valeriyan) cathedrals in Isangrad. The St. Augustine Cathedral was the cathedral where the Valerian emperor would be coroneted, and the St. Valerian cathedral is where the Valerian emperor would have his funeral mass.

It was not long before the convoy arrived at the Diocesan Palace, which was surrounded by an army of tents. It was interesting to think how this building once stood, with its formal elegance, when this country was not intent on committing suicide with sectarian violence. Pyetr easily imagined a palace with verdant gardens and intricate fountains and tall pine and blossom trees, much like the Patriarchal Palace in Isangrad.

The sight of Freetown had an impact on Pyetr, and he decided to make a decree to his party of courtiers and hanger-ons. "Your Holiness, Bishop O'Neill, I would like to say that you may have those townhouses relinquished... My friends, I would like you all to turn back and head back to Magna Valeria. I must go on this alone, and I shall see you all someday back home." The drunk group of teenagers looked almost shocked, but understood the young tsarevich and took the Valerian jeeps back. Most of the guards also left, leaving just a few for Pyetr and a few of his friends who refused to leave (including the young woman who had disgusted Bishop O'Neill with her loud, unladylike belch). These were his best friends. Pyetr sighed and decided to allow them to stay, but Pyetr's retinue decreased substantially.

"Now, Your Holiness, the stress of having so many spoiled Valerians in your country won't be as great. It is just me, my three friends here, a handful of guards, and Feofil."

As Bishop O'Neill showed Pyetr, his three remaining friends, and their few guards the suites that they would be occupying in the Diocesan Palace, Pyetr looked upon it with a smirk. "It is nice... I am surprised by how this country tries its best to serve us with a neglected yet comfortable place to stay, despite the fact that most of their people are likely homeless." As soon as Pyetr and his friends unpacked, the young prince let his friends have fun to themselves and headed to the sun terrace to join the Bishop.

Feofil V, Metropolitan of Trentino

Feofil was left behind the group with a couple of guards. He hopped onto the last available Valerian jeep and then noticed that it was a rather old one. "That impudent prince must have set this up," bemoaned the cleric. He tried to start up the engine, which choked and gave the same effort as an elderly man in a football match. "No good," one of the guards said with a stern face. "Maybe we should return home."

"I won't give up," Feofil muttered. He hopped out of the jeep and gave the side of the car a good kick. Climbing back into it, he started up the jeep. A smile broke onto his face as soon as the engine purred with success. "Nothin' to it," he said as he shifted gears and sped off to catch up with the rest of the convoy. It was comic to see a cleric, with a long beard flowing in the wind, driving a jeep at such high speeds. It was less comic for the guard sitting behind him, who was getting irritated at the metropolitan's beard flowing into his face.

Soon, after some frantic driving and speeds which pushed the Valerian vehicle to its limits, the cleric and his two guards caught up and slowed down. Once they arrived at the Diocesan Palace, Feofil hopped off the jeep and once O'Neill notified the Orthodox cleric of his room, the bishop took to it with haste. He entered the townhouse and looked at it with enthusiasm. Sure, it seemed uncomfortable, but at least it was decorated and cozy. Feofil's newfound enthusiasm in his new environment (at least for awhile) soon turned to distraught when he heard the cackling of seagulls in the stories above him.

"Oh dear," he muttered to himself. Feofil will likely sleep with the covers over his head to keep it clear of a rogue seagull.

Not so very long ago, the blue water trawler Korman had been peacefully pursuing cod in the rich fishing grounds off Walmington on Sea. Her captain had been aware that he played a risky game, plying his trade on the high seas despite his Iansislean nationality and known royalist sympathies, but in economically destitute Walmington it was a risk worth taking. The Navy had not concerned itself much with a single boatload of royalists trawling in the north Atlantic -- not until they suddenly found themselves in need of the Korman.

The planned worked like a well-oiled machine: the destroyer Argonaut, Iansisle’s sole large naval vessel between the Gallagan Ocean and Insula Modesta in the Pacific, had waited well outside the Walmingtonian Navy’s usual patrol radius. A shore agent had seen Korman sail and informed the naval attaché at Iansisle’s embassy about her course, speed, and destination. Like a pouncing jungle cat, Argonaut had sped to intercept. The wireless jamming was perfectly effective and Korman was taken with only a single shot fired across her bow. A boarding party removed her captain and his royalist crew, the Gull ensign was raised over St. Adie’s Cross, and the ship was sworn into the Republic’s navy as the armed trawler Korman.

She would be missed eventually, of course. It was the NIO’s hope that, by the time an investigation which might endanger fledgling relations between Great Walmington and Ianapalis started, the Korman and her crew would be safely disposed of. Korman was quickly loaded with the supplies and crew which her new mission -- the depositing of an NIO presence in Kaitan-Leagran and the supply of an anti-Valerian action -- would require and sent on her way. Her destination was Hesford, a small fishing village north of Freetown.

As Korman approached the island, her captain regretfully ordered the Gull Flag-over-St Adie’s lowered. Republic or monarchy, Iansisle was a nation which expected quick, annihilating victory at sea in all campaigns, and so far the Valerian war had been an exercise in frustration for the Navy. Every victory, even over a surprised and unarmed fishing vessel, was relished. A Walmingtonian flag -- for indeed Korman was registered in Great Walmington -- was run up and a cover story about engine difficulty was invented.

To make it more convincing, Korman’s spit-and-polish navy crew entered into a impersonation of sloppy fishermen that would have done even Gordon Campbell proud. Her obsolescent -- one might even say obsolete -- technology might confuse a casual onlooker, but the Walmingtonian registry explained that. Once they were able to discharge an agent ashore, he would go looking for a contact with the ‘Sons of the Second Republic.’

It was somewhat odd, perhaps, that Iansisle -- which confessed nearly ninety per cent Roman Catholic (if one ignored those annoying statistics from Gallaga which insisted that the vast majority of people living under Shieldian rule were either Hindu or Muslim) -- would choose to ally itself with a radical Protestant group. However, given the secular nature of the Gull Flag Republic, the NIO had no problem using any means which might achieve the salvation of a collapsing revolution. Use of Kaitan-Leagran native Catholic groups had been considered but rejected in the face of the Sons’ proven track record of violent activity. The NIO hoped to persuade O’Connor and his Sons to help with the promise of the lack of an agenda in domestic politics, a large infusion of cash and small arms, and the fact that Korman was registered in Anglican Walmington, not Catholic Iansisle. After all, no intelligence agency is stupid enough to admit straight up for whom they work, and inference can be a powerful tool.

Through all of this, the Confederals in the IAA simply continued to do their jobs. They were building homes, fixing old homes damaged by the war, installing and fixing plumbing, paving and repaving roads, restoring buildings or all kinds, ensuring the flow of electricity and water, providing a modern communications infrastructure, building schools and hospitals, providing emergency food relief, providing farming equipment and supplies, providing job training to locals (including police, medics and other emergency personnel) and generally rebuilding the infrastructure of Kaitan-Leagran and providing food and goods and the means to provide themselves with the same in the future to the people of Kaitan-Leagran.

The security deployment assigned to protect the humanitarian workers and to ensure that the aid reached the people of Kaitan-Leagran also kept doing their jobs. So far, their jobs had mostly consisted simply of being ready in case problems should arise.

As far as the open house was concerned, the Confederals simply stayed out of it, although they allowed the Provisional Government to borrow their bands and vehicles and equipment from time to time. It would have to be up to the Provisional Government, for better or worse. Kaitan-Leagran had to build its own democracy. That the Confederals couldn't do for them, however tempting it might be to try.

Prince Rupa responded politely to the Provisional Government saying that no one in Farinor sought the Crown of Kaitan-Leagran but any Farinor noble would do his or her duty if called upon. He enclosed, as a courtesy, information about several hundred Peers of Farinor.

Foreign Secretary Rastel, meanwhile, requested a meeting with the Aerion ambassador, citing his Government's grave concerns regarding Aerion's policies in the Gulf of Vasconia.

Freetown Castle

"Your Royal Highness is very kind to aid us after so many years of trouble," said the Bishop of An Bealach Bui with a smile, "Although we have managed to rebuild much since the end of the war, we are always welcome to any kind offers."

While he spoke, the Moderator began to shift nervously in his gown and make anxious glances towards the city below.

"Your Highness," he said after his colleague had stopped, "There is no need for the vehicles you have prepared, we have decided that we would be better served by having a preliminary discussion in the Castle.

That said, we should really get under cover now. Though it is difficult to range up the hill, the occasional sniper often tries to cause mayhem up here. I suggest that we move quite swiftly."

Diocesan Palace

The Catholic Bishop sat on a rather elderly wicker chair on the Palace's sun terrace. The mid-afternoon sun had warmed the area quite nicely, and O'Neill was half-tempted to have a nap were it not for the business he had to attend to.

The terrace would once have overlooked formal gardens though, as the Prince would have noticed on his arrival, this was now a makeshift camp. Still, thanks to the erection of some construction barriers, at least the Bishop sat in a degree of isolation even though the work of the aid agencies went on over the fence.

When the Prince arrived, O'Neill arose.

"Your Highness," he said, "Thank you for joining me, please take a seat."

The bishop motioned towards a similarly elderly wicker chair.

"Can I get you anything to drink? Tea, coffee, some manner of squash?"

Having contented himself that the Prince's needs were met, O'Neill turned to the business at hand.

"Your Highness, you asked at the docks that we should have a discussion in a safer place. You have now seen a section of Freetown, both its glory and its ruin, and are now sitting in a safe space. What could you like to ask me?"

OOC: Iansisle, do you want me to RP anything with the village you come ashore at?

The Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran read Prince Rupa's list of nobles with some interest. For reasons that were unknown to many, there was a feeling in the Kingdom that Farinor was to be the place where a future monarch would or could be found (depending on your viewpoint).

One name in particular stood out to those within the administration (ie. the more junior clerics in each of the factions), a name that was perfect, if they accepted.

The problem was asking them, or more specifically, getting to Farinor. Needless to say, not even the upper echelons of the Provisional Government were free just to upsticks and travel across the world, most people had never been in a plane before.

Which was where Alfred Marriott came in. Despite approaching his 79th birthday, Marriott was not a man who had come to New Amsterdam in order to play golf and attend dinner parties. Well past the retirement age though he might be, Marriott was determined that he should do some good while he was in the Confederation. So it was with some interest, therefore, that he received a telephone call one morning. It was, as requests do, quite an interesting one, but one that he decided to undertake as a act of goodwill.

His diary for the coming days was cleared and a flight booked to Bharat. His staff then packed his bags, carefully explaining which pills he had to take on which days. The Ambassador then left the neo-stalinist confines of the Fiefdom Embassy and travelled across town to New Amsterdam airport.

It was at the airport that he was met by a Miss Iona McLoughlin who, along with Mr Tetl (the Ambassador's Private Secretary), would be making the journey to Bharat.

Miss McLoughlin, as she would explain as the three of them looked through the various duty-free items, worked at the Commonwealth Registry for Internet Domains as an investigator and was originally from Wintermore. What involved her in this business was the fact that, as the name would give-away, her family was originally from the market town of Ballyshannon. Her grandfather, she told Marriott, had been converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints when a travelling preacher arrived in Ballyshannon during the days of Finaran rule. Being a Mormon in Kaitan-Leagran, though, was never easy and when her grandfather was killed by the forces of the Second Protestant Republic, Iona's father had decided that enough was enough. They paid off a fisherman to take them the ninety miles to Laneria where, after being granted refugee status, they made their way to Wintermore and the comfort of fellow-religionists.

Not that she hated Kaitan-Leagran, she assured the Ambassador, far from it. She hoped that the new government would allow the religious freedom that her family had been denied, and had instantly applied for a passport to the Kingdom as soon as the Provisional Government started issuing them. Needless to say, she hadn't told her parents yet.

The flight to Bharat was pleasant enough. Internal flights within the Confederation were certainly very comfortable. It was fortunate, though, that the embassy's staff had phoned ahead to book a hotel. Soon after they landed, the three retired to their respective rooms and prepared for the afternoon's task.

The first task was to find out where 'the target' lived (as Mr Tetl insisted on calling the Farinor noble. A sign, thought Marriott, that his Secretary had spent too long in the army).

Having established this, the three went to explore that vast city of Bharat. "Know your surroundings" insisted Tetl, though Marriott and Iona were more than happy to do the touristy things. Marriott regretted, in some instances, that the Confederation's existence meant that ambassadors were no longer assigned to the Danaan High Kingdom. It was a fascinating place.

Following dinner, and a time spent deciding on what they would all say on the morrow, the three retired to bed. They arose the next day, Tetl reminding the ambassador via the room-to-room telephone which medication to take, and a taxi was called. Needless to say, the group soon found themselves outside a particularly grand apartment building. They made their way into the entrance foyer where, as is traditional, a rather bored doorman sat.

"Good day to you sir," said Marriott as the approached the man, "Could you direct me to Her Ladyship, Baroness Saandeep of Euphosor's apartment? I am Alfred Marriott of the Serene Democratic Fiefdom and I have come at the behest of the government of Kaitan-Leagran. Is she, perchance, free?"

OOC: Iansisle, do you want me to RP anything with the village you come ashore at?

((ooc: I'd certainly appreciate it if you'd take the part of the (militia?) I'm making contact with. I've always had qualms about taking too many liberties with the characters / locations of others =). If you're too busy with the actual content of this thread, however, I completely understand and can do it myself.))

"I will inform Baroness Euphosor that you wish to see her, sir." the doorman said in a rather haughty tone of voice. He picked up his telephone and dialed Euphosor's room. After a brief conversation, he returned his attention to the small visiting party. "Her Ladyship will see you now. It's room 17B."

Euphosor herself let the party in when they arrived. She had hurriedly dressed in a simple but elegant light blue dress with a colorful Hindi pattern around the waist. The front room was an understated living room but the entire apartment was done in an open style with only the bedrooms and bathroom hidden behind solid walls and doors. The living room was open to the kitchen area, the study area and the studio where a collection of materials and a half-finished canvass indicated the baroness had been at work just before the Kaitan-Leagrans and Fiefdomites arrived. "I'm sorry about the mess." she said with a glance towards her work space. "I wasn't expecting company."

Freetown Castle

The Crown Prince nodded, gesturing to his valet, "Yes, let us make our way inside then." He glanced up on the hill as if anticipating, though did surprisingly not seem overly concerned for his own safety. He spoke, "I hope those guerilla fighters do not harm civilians often. I am surprised with the aid forces here that they are still able to terrorize some areas of the nation."

He began walking with the Moderator. The man stepped in a subtle dignified confidence, even amidst the situation, though not one of arrogancy or overt pride. Crown Prince Damoen seemed like a naturally charismatic man, but at the same time extremely approachable. His approachability was what had angered some of the elite back in the Grand Kingdom who were status conscious, and the fact that he seemed to emphasis equality more than they would like. Basic Equality was the standard in the Grand Kingdom, but economic nor social equality were not.

The Royal Guards formed a guard formation around the Prince, and the men speaking to him. The Royal Marines began disembarking from the aircraft to secure the area around the aircraft further.


Royal Embassy of Aerion in New Amsterdam

Upon hearing this the Minister-Counselor of Political Affairs, Ashten Vecryz, briefed Ambassador Dedrick on the situation and why this was a problem. The Ambassador had also called in Rear Admiral Estef Jenlik, the Royal Navy Attaché to the embassy.

After being briefed on the situation as much as he could, he gave the Foreign Secretary a call, hoping to arrange a physical meeting if necessary.

Meanwhile the light carrier, and escort ship floated in the Gulf of Vasconia in waters as far from the shores as possible.

OOC: Want to take this to another thread or?

OOC: My hope would be that it won't be a big enough deal to justify a separate thread.

Kevin Rastel had a headache. He had gotten when this whole business with Kaitan-Leagran had begun and it hadn't yet gone away. In fact, nearly every update her got about the current situation on the island seemed to make it worse. Nonetheless, he had sent messages to two relevant ambassadors, those of Amestria and Aerion. He had scheduled meetings with both of them, the Aerion first and then the Amestrian, that afternoon. He wasn't looking forward to either.

A few hours later, Dedrick was shown in to the Secretary's office. Rastel rose with a polite smile and offered his hand to the other man. "I'm glad that you could join me, Your Excellency."

Doorstop interview outside the Palais du Parlement, New Rome

Demetrios Raoul, Pantocratorian's Foreign Minister, was wrapping up a doorstop interview with the parliamentary press corps in one of the Imperial Parliament's courtyards, where Raoul frequently went to smoke in the open air now that smoking in the building's halls had been forbidden. With a nearly finished cigarette clutched in his fingers, he fielded questions from the journalists there.

"...another coup, but if there is, we'll react to it then." Raoul concluded the answer to his previous question.

"Minister, is there any truth to the rumour that the Pantocratorian Ambassador to Allanea asked to be withdrawn?" a journalist asked.

"No." Raoul answered simply, and took a puff of his cigarette.

"There was a report in the Fiefdom's press that Madame Katalyn asked to be withdrawn." the journalist insisted.

"Louise," Demetrios said, finishing his cigarette, dropping it to the ground and putting it out with his foot. He addressed the journalist in a familiar fashion. "If the Ambassador asked to be withdrawn, it would've been in a secret communication. So whatever you've heard is just somebody's over active imagination. I promise you."

There was a chuckle amongst the journalists as Raoul determined to start an internal investigation into leaks in his staff. Another journalist asked a question.

"Minister," she began. "There are reports that Aerion is preparing to make Anacea a protectorate of Aerion. Their Crown Prince is th..."

"Wait, wait..." Raoul chuckled, waving at the journalist dismissively. "Look, whatever your question is, Maria, your information's faulty. There's no way Aerion would seriously attempt to make Anacea, or Kaitan-Leagran as it is more usually called by its inhabitants, a protectorate. The very idea's absurd."

"So would..." Maria pressed.

"No, really, Maria," Raoul shook his head with a smile. "I have to get back to work now. Aerion's much too sensible for what you're suggesting. They know that there's no way we would allow it anyway. And as lovely as it has been chatting with you ladies and gentlemen, I'm on chamber duty shortly, so I must go."

(The Resurgent Dream)

Ambassador Dedrick extended his hand, shaking the Secretary's firmly but in a diplomatic warmth fashion "Mr. Secretary."

The Ambassador appeared to be in his early fourties. He was an Eastern Aerionian (Appearance of mixture of Native American and Arabic with Romanesque facial features) with striking blue eyes. He wore an European cut gray suit with dark blue shirt and an red

He spoke, "You wished to speak with me on something I understand?"

Rastel shook the man's hand firmly. He then gestured to a chair in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat." After Dedrick had been seated, Rastel took his own seat.

Rastel paused for a moment as though considering how to say this tactfully. "I think you'll understand that we are very ... concerned ... about your recent moves in Kaitan-Leagran. I understand that you have asked Kaitan-Leagran to become a protectorate of Aerion, insisted on the redundant and inefficient provision of aid independently of the IAA instead of seeking to join the IAA or at least donate to it, arranged for your Prince to personally visit the island secretly and supported all of this by sailing ships of war into the Gulf of Vasconia. Individually, most of these acts are just slight indiscretions but taken together they look rather ... They might lead some to be uncomfortable regarding your intentions in the Gulf. Now, I certainly believe that Aerion is simply attempting to bring much needed aid to a people who have been through a lot. However, I am going to have to ask you exactly why such an unconventional course has been chosen, independently of the international aid effort."

(The Resurgent Dream)

Ambassador Dedrick raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised he expected the inquiry to be primarily concerning the light carrier in the Gulf. He cleared his throat, taking a seat, then crossing one leg over the other.

He began to speak, "Well first I would like to address that rumour of making Kaitan-Leagran an protectorate. We do not intend to make Kaitan-Leagran a protectorate in the sense of a colony of Aerion, no, but His Royal Highness Crown Prince Damoen Wasterin has considered taking on the role of the Crown of Kaitan-Leagran as well. The government there, unless The Resurgent Dream intends to shape Kaitan-Leagran policy, has put out an open call that they would like an established monarchy to perform as their head of state. Unless your government intends to dictate Kaitan-Leagran policy, and decide for them whom their monarch should be I believe perhaps that it is their choice is it not?

There is no intention of making Kaitan-Leagran an protectorate of the Grand Kingdom, it would be a relationship of personal union in which Kaitan-Leagran shares Crown Prince Damoen Wasterin as their Head of State with Aerion in a fashion similar to a commonwealth. The intention of the Kaitan-Leagran government seems to be for this position to be primarily ceremonial. This would create a strong diplomatic bond between Aerion, and Kaitan-Leagran sharing an Head of State as they would but the Royal Government of Aerion would not have any influence on Kaitan-Leagran."

After finishing his discourse, he notes, "And as for the light carrier in the Gulf, we had hoped it would not be an issue as it would help with the aide work, though we will readily move it if necessary. We may also discuss it in a few moments, but I consider it unusual that the IAA would dictate they can be the only aide organization to Kaitan-Leagran. We may seek to join the IAA in some time, but wished to provide immediate assistance to Kaitan-Leagran. The Red Cross, for example, seldom dictates that only they and they alone will provide aide. Why can a nation not offer aide individually? It sounds as if it is a very politically influenced statement."

He finishes, awaiting the response of the Secretary.

Rastel paused for a moment. "Thank you for that clarification. While I think the Kaitan-Leagrans might have said something about that sort of thing already, it is certainly not a matter of interest to the Confederated Peoples. We are not willing to apply for the position, much less dictate about it. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Rastel shrugged slightly. "Your carrier was only an issue in the context of your statements about a protectorate. As you apparently meant something different, it is not an issue. Put it wherever is convenient for you."

Rastel leaned forward slightly. "The Red Cross does coordinate their efforts with other relief agencies though. That is all the IAA is, a coordinating body set up by the various Kaitan-Leagran factions and concerned governments to organize humanitarian aid and international development aid in the peace settlement itself. The Red Cross, incidently, is working with the IAA. It was a Kaitan-Leagran initiative, not ours, and no one is trying to dictate anything or to subordinate Aerion to any other power. Aerion does have the right to administer aid independently as long as it does so with the permission of local authorities. However, we think that more good can be done if we coordinate our efforts as equal partners with one another, with the Fiefdom and with certain other states through the mechanism provided by the IAA. That is all we are suggesting: Working together through a mechanism designed to enable just that."

Rastel smiled slightly. "The affairs of Kaitan-Leagran are not ours to dictate, of course. However, the outcome of the current efforts is something in which we have a strong effort which I think justifies at least consulting with you on these matters. I hope I've eased your concerns as you have mine?"

Ambassador Dedrick nodded, his hands clasped before his mouth in a thinking gesture before he then rests them on the side of the chair "Yes, a glass of water if you do not mind."

He then spoke on the subject at hand "Yes, you have eased any concerns. I apologize if my tone was a bit strong, but the allegation of Aerion wishing to take over Kaitan-Leagran as an protectorate had alarmed me. We are not imperialists, and do not wish to be seen as such.

The IAA may have relief efforts settled, and if so there is not necessarily the need for further relief though I believe His Royal Highness has made a large donation to the government of Kaitan-Leagran directly. It was simply an offer of relief.

The light carrier was to be the base of operations for any Aerionian relief, and the base of operations for the Crown Prince while in Kaitan-Leagran. Though we did wish to keep the Crown Prince's trip a secret due to domestic reasons. I am sure the press may eventually find out, but the later the better."

He uncrossed his leg, leaning back in the chair a moment.

((OOC: I think that's pretty much it for my diplomatic digression. Told you it'd be quick and didn't need its own thread.))

Rastel got a glass of water for Derick and another for himself. "That's why I wanted to discuss our concerns with you privately. It would have been regretful and quite embarrassing if an inaccurate word used somewhere along the way had led to public statements by governments or even to damage to our substantive relations. Instead, everything was cleared up nicely and quietly."

He smiled as he took a drink. "I wouldn't say all the work is done. There is still a great deal Aerion could contribute. The situation has simply moved beyond the level of rudimentary communications infrastructure and emergency humanitarian relief so some of what you originally brought might be redundant but there is still a long way to go in the rebuilding of Kaitan-Leagran and we would be glad to have Aerion there. Of course, it'd be better to take the details up with the Provisional Government and the IAA than with me. It is a rather specialized matter that they have naturally been devoting their full attention to."

Freetown Castle

The Crown Prince nodded, gesturing to his valet, "Yes, let us make our way inside then." He glanced up on the hill as if anticipating, though did surprisingly not seem overly concerned for his own safety. He spoke, "I hope those guerilla fighters do not harm civilians often. I am surprised with the aid forces here that they are still able to terrorize some areas of the nation."

He began walking with the Moderator. The man stepped in a subtle dignified confidence, even amidst the situation, though not one of arrogancy or overt pride. Crown Prince Damoen seemed like a naturally charismatic man, but at the same time extremely approachable. His approachability was what had angered some of the elite back in the Grand Kingdom who were status conscious, and the fact that he seemed to emphasis equality more than they would like. Basic Equality was the standard in the Grand Kingdom, but economic nor social equality were not.

The Royal Guards formed a guard formation around the Prince, and the men speaking to him. The Royal Marines began disembarking from the aircraft to secure the area around the aircraft further.


"Oh," said the Moderator with a dismissive wave, "I would hardly credit these men with their ability to terrorise, they are just randoms."
"What my colleague means," said the bishop as they made their way over to the Castle Complex, "Is that in a society that has been at war for so long, one cannot simply arrive at the door of a house and demand all their guns. A fight will no doubt assume. But just because we have forced the main groups into submission does not mean that the battle is won."
"And we lack a national police force!" interjected a young protestant cleric.
"Yes," said the Bishop, "Soldiers fight, Your Highness, but they are prehaps not best suited to police."
"But we shall address any and all of your questions about the island in time," said the Moderator, bringing such talk to a close.

Freetown Castle, like the rest of the Capital, bore a distinctive, if very faded, glory. It was a grand Victorian folly, the short of thing a wealthy soap merchant would build in rural Wales during the later nineteenth century. Except, of course, the Castle had served an administrative as well as symbolic function. Not that it was, in any meaningful way, a Castle with suitable defensive structures, which explained the military base that had hap-hazardly grown around it. But the structure was largely quiet these days, the various aid organisations and governmental offices had set up shop in the city below. But plans were afoot to transform this place into a royal palace, suitable for whatever monarch would eventually be chosen. Scaffolding had been placed around parts of the main structure in a half-hearted attempt at reconstruction but, for a nation that was appealing to the world for a foreign monarch, the Provisional Government had hardly expended any great effort in providing a home.

As the Royal soldiers continued to unload the Aerionian aircraft as the Moderator and Bishop led the Crown Prince into the mostly-empty base and into a specially-prepared room (ie tidied) in order to better establish the current situation on Kaitan-Leagran. Light refreshments were also served.

"We have a number of things to discuss," said the Moderator as he sat at the scuffed wooden table across from the Crown Prince, "And now that we are in a safe(r) environment, we are free to expand upon our answers. The Confederation, for example, has been keen (very keen) for me to discuss the role of the I.A.A., but I understand that the your ambassadors have discussed that particular issue in some depth."
"But this is also an opportunity for us to talk over some issues with you, Your Highness," said the Bishop of An Bealach Bui, "For example, I recently watched the interview with your sister on P.I.N.A. It made for..interesting viewing, you have a notably different preception of your role as sovereign, or as a Royal, then your sister."
"Indeed," said the Moderator, "In fact, we should start there. If you desire to become our head of state, your highness, then it would be useful to establish what you think the role and purpose of monarchy is. And..."
The Moderator leaned forward slightly, the chair he sat upon creaking as a result.
"Whether you believe, despite everything else they say about monarchy, such as the symbol of unity, boost to tourism etc., that the office of King is one that is divinely ordained and dependent upon a belief in supernatural powers that will one man to be chosen over his peers as monarch. After all, an atheist and a monarch, in my book and in the views of the majority of the people of New Deasrargle, is a sinful practise that will be punished in the life to come."

Greasby Fishing Village, Self-defined Protestant district of Kaitan-Leagran

Most people would have been suspicious of a shady looking man hanging-around the docks of this tiny fishing village late at night. But then, most shady men weren't radical protestant radicals. Greasby, after all, was small enough to know that when you saw that man hanging around that area of the village, you went home, locked the door and, more importantly, didn't ask questions. Not if you wanted your children to possess their full compliment of limbs.

It was on this night, therefore, that the contact for the Sons of the Second Protestant Republic lazily smoked a cigarette, waiting for these no-good foreign devils to aid his organisation in wiping out another, more foreign devil. And a idolator at that.

Soon a battered fishing trawler was spotted, and the man knew he was in business.

Diocesan Palace, Freetown

The Catholic Bishop smiled warmly at the young Prince, who was obviously over-whelmed by it all.

"I will inform Baroness Euphosor that you wish to see her, sir." the doorman said in a rather haughty tone of voice. He picked up his telephone and dialed Euphosor's room. After a brief conversation, he returned his attention to the small visiting party. "Her Ladyship will see you now. It's room 17B."

Euphosor herself let the party in when they arrived. She had hurriedly dressed in a simple but elegant light blue dress with a colorful Hindi pattern around the waist. The front room was an understated living room but the entire apartment was done in an open style with only the bedrooms and bathroom hidden behind solid walls and doors. The living room was open to the kitchen area, the study area and the studio where a collection of materials and a half-finished canvass indicated the baroness had been at work just before the Kaitan-Leagrans and Fiefdomites arrived. "I'm sorry about the mess." she said with a glance towards her work space. "I wasn't expecting company."

"It is quite alright Madam," said the Marriott with a smile, "Or mission was of a somewhat delicate nature, hence why we travelled in such relative secrecy.

But allow me to introduce myself and my small party. My name is Alfred Marriott and I serve as the Fiefdom Ambassador to the Confederated Peoples of the Commonwealth, or whatever it has changed its name to.
This gentleman here is my private secretary, Mr Chimalli Tetl..."
"Ma'am," said Tetl with a short, practically-military nod.
"And this young lady is Miss Iona McLoughlin, who is a sort-of unofficial-but-official representative of the Kaitan-Leagran government."
"Ma'am," she said, with a small and slightly embarrassed cursty.
"And we come here today on behalf of that very same government, Provisional though it may be.
I trust that your Ladyship has heard of Kaitan-Leagran, or Anacea or New Deasrargle, depending on who you ask. I myself have not yet had the opportunity of visiting the island. Regardless of which, the Provisional Authorities there have contacted me and asked that...well, we shall come to that in due course.
I hope you don't mind or intrusive visit, Madam, but we were given your contact details my His Highness, Prince Rupa. You see, your ladyship, we have come in relation to the recently created, but vacant, throne of Kaitan-Leagran. Now this throne, in being vacant and all, well, I was asked to..."
"Cutting to the chase," interrupted Tetl, "We've been asked to ask you whether you'd consider taking the throne if called upon."
"Yes...well...quite." said an irritated Ambassador.
"We realise that it is a fairly odd request, to ask if you would consider if asked, but we've not been formally mandated to ask, as of yet." said an embarrassed Iona.
"The Kingdom," said Tetl, "is currently hosting a number of candidates for the job and, therefore, it would be impolite to pre-ask someone else entirely. But they are strongly considering asking a Danaan royal."
"Danaan royals," said Iona, "Have a reputation for being...more...well...normal than most other royals."
"As Your Ladyship has proven in her support for fox-hunting, I mean against animal cruelty" said Marriott.
"But we understand if you have other committments," said Iona, "I mean, you lead such an interesting life that I can imagine that Kaitan-Leagran would be a bit quiet."
"As we said," said Tetl, attempting to keep the conversation suitably formal, "There is little in the way of precedent for this. The last monarchies were created well-over one hundred years ago, and often from the close-knit families of Europe. But the Kaitan-Leagrans seem insistent that they get a 'proper' royal, so to speak."
"And I can well understand why," said Marriott, "A island with such division, to appoint one of their own would be a mammoth, if not an impossible act. And they seem rather, shall we say, antiquated in their worldview. In fact..."
The Ambassador reached into his jacket pocket and, producing a sheet of white paper, proceeded to unfold it.
"If Your Ladyship is willing, and feels that she would strongly consider Kaitan-Leagran as a potential future development, I have in my possession a series of...enquiries from the Provisional Government. I can assure you that I have read them thoroughly to ensure that they are not intrusive."
"And we can answer any questions about the island, well, I can at least," said Iona.

Euphosor blinked once as the representatives from Kaitan-Leagran and the Fiefdom spoke rather rapidly. It took her a moment to take in the essential points of all they had said. "Well ... I am very honored that you would consider me for such a tremendous responsibility. Why don't you come in and sit down and we can discuss this?" She hesitated for a long moment, frowning thoughtfully. At length, she said "I would, of course, be willing to accept the duties of the Kaitan-Leagran monarchy were I to be called upon to do so."

Euphosor waited until her guests had taken their seats, ruminating over the information she had just received. "I'd be happy to answer any questions that you'd to ask me. Would you like anything to drink, gentlemen, madame?"

"I must say, this visit certainly has taken me quite unawares." she said. "I certainly never imagined myself as a potential monarch."

Euphosor blinked once as the representatives from Kaitan-Leagran and the Fiefdom spoke rather rapidly. It took her a moment to take in the essential points of all they had said. "Well ... I am very honored that you would consider me for such a tremendous responsibility. Why don't you come in and sit down and we can discuss this?" She hesitated for a long moment, frowning thoughtfully. At length, she said "I would, of course, be willing to accept the duties of the Kaitan-Leagran monarchy were I to be called upon to do so."

Euphosor waited until her guests had taken their seats, ruminating over the information she had just received. "I'd be happy to answer any questions that you'd to ask me. Would you like anything to drink, gentlemen, madame?"

"I must say, this visit certainly has taken me quite unawares." she said. "I certainly never imagined myself as a potential monarch."

Greasby Fishing Village, Self-defined Protestant district of Kaitan-Leagran

Most people would have been suspicious of a shady looking man hanging-around the docks of this tiny fishing village late at night. But then, most shady men weren't radical protestant radicals. Greasby, after all, was small enough to know that when you saw that man hanging around that area of the village, you went home, locked the door and, more importantly, didn't ask questions. Not if you wanted your children to possess their full compliment of limbs.

It was on this night, therefore, that the contact for the Sons of the Second Protestant Republic lazily smoked a cigarette, waiting for these no-good foreign devils to aid his organisation in wiping out another, more foreign devil. And a idolator at that.

Soon a battered fishing trawler was spotted, and the man knew he was in business.

The Korman. playing up its role as a wounded member of King Godfrey's merchant fleet far from home, came into port and imediately sent for help. Coal reserves were inquired after, a machinist was sent for, and a short, swarthy -- some said part Gallagan -- sailor in a dingy coat and grey flat cap strolled casually up the docks. He was in fact Lieutenant Commander Gregory Doters, NIO, until recently assigned to the embassy in Knootcap.

There, fitting into the role of a Dutch longshoreman as easily as he affected that of a Walmie fisherman, he had assisted in the near capture of the Iansislean royal family upon their arrival in Rotterdam. That operation had been a failure, and it weighed all the more heavily on Doters that this one should be a success.

There was a man there, smoking, just like had been arranged. Doters decided that sticking to the plan was the best idea, so he sauntered up and asked the man for a light.

Having resolved the situation with Aerion happily enough, Kevin Rastel awaited his afternoon meeting with the Amestrian ambassador. He didn't expect this one to go nearly so well. If anything, the Confederals were more suspicious of Amestrian motives than Aerion ones or at least they felt their Kaitan-Leagran allies had more reason to be suspicious.

Rastel rose as the Amestrian was shown in. He offered his hand politely. "It's nice to finally meet you in person."

Rastel gestured for his guest to be seated before resuming his own seat. He folded his hands in his lap and considered for a moment before he began. "So, I am given to understand that President Liscel has made some rather, shall we say interesting, proposals regarding the matter of Kaitan-Leagran. I am afraid that I have to inform you, as you doubtless already expected, that we are unable to accept Amestria's offer of aid on the terms suggested by President Liscel."

Euphosor blinked once as the representatives from Kaitan-Leagran and the Fiefdom spoke rather rapidly. It took her a moment to take in the essential points of all they had said. "Well ... I am very honored that you would consider me for such a tremendous responsibility. Why don't you come in and sit down and we can discuss this?" She hesitated for a long moment, frowning thoughtfully. At length, she said "I would, of course, be willing to accept the duties of the Kaitan-Leagran monarchy were I to be called upon to do so."

Euphosor waited until her guests had taken their seats, ruminating over the information she had just received. "I'd be happy to answer any questions that you'd to ask me. Would you like anything to drink, gentlemen, madame?"

"I must say, this visit certainly has taken me quite unawares." she said. "I certainly never imagined myself as a potential monarch."

"I can quite understand your confusion mi'ladyship Tea would be lovely regarding our sudden appearance," said the Ambassador as he sat down, "But the circumstances of Kaitan-Leagran are...unique in many respects."

"Quite," said Tetl, "I had previously assumed that any new state would be a republic. It seems to be a logical conclusion, but then logic and international affairs rarely meet."

"Though I would confess that, we have little to offer in many respects," said a still-embarrassed Iona, "In fact, only this morning, the Provisional Government advised us to say that the title 'The Kingdom of Kaitan-Leagran' is only a working title. We can't even say that you would be a 'Queen' if asked and such."

"Indeed." said Marriott as the party settled into a comfortable silence.

"Sir?" asked Tetl after a time, "The questions?"

"Ah yes, of course.
Well you have aptly answered the first one, whether you are willing to take the position and why. So on to the second..."
The Ambassador reached into his jacket pocket and, taking out some rather large spectacles, proceeded to reread the sheet of paper.
"Ah yes, 'what do you ultimately think the role is of monarchy in the modern world and, on your own experiences, that of nobility?' and the third one being 'what would you hope to achieve as the Head of State of Kaitan-Leagran?'. I would also add, at this point, 'how much do you know about that island, Your Ladyship?', since it's important to get that one out of the way."

"Yes," said Tetl, turning his grey-eyes on the Baroness, "It would be preferable is you answered the last question first, so to speak."

"Though I can help!" interjected Iona happily.

The Korman. playing up its role as a wounded member of King Godfrey's merchant fleet far from home, came into port and imediately sent for help. Coal reserves were inquired after, a machinist was sent for, and a short, swarthy -- some said part Gallagan -- sailor in a dingy coat and grey flat cap strolled casually up the docks. He was in fact Lieutenant Commander Gregory Doters, NIO, until recently assigned to the embassy in Knootcap.

There, fitting into the role of a Dutch longshoreman as easily as he affected that of a Walmie fisherman, he had assisted in the near capture of the Iansislean royal family upon their arrival in Rotterdam. That operation had been a failure, and it weighed all the more heavily on Doters that this one should be a success.

There was a man there, smoking, just like had been arranged. Doters decided that sticking to the plan was the best idea, so he sauntered up and asked the man for a light.

The man silently offered a box of matches and then moved away into the heart of the village. And that was it, pretty much. The Sons of the Second Republic would not indulge in such flippancy as 'codewords' and 'secret handshakes'. Communal ethnic violence, after all, was a serious business. The man at the docks knew what he was waiting for, and would not possibly attempt any manner of small talk. Matters were to be attended to.
The pair silently made their way through the quiet streets, the only sounds being the crash of the waves and their echoing footsteps. Soon, however, the rumble of an elderly engine could be heard and, on the outskirts of the village, an old army jeep could be seen, its battered headlights shining onto the empty houses that surrounded it. Three men stood around the jeep, AK-47s unconvincingly concealed about their person. As the pair approached, one man opened a rear passenger door.
"Get in." said the man from the docks, the only two words he would ever say. As the Iansislean entered, he would turn and head back to the village, never to be seen by the agent again. The other men boarded the jeep, and the driver eased the elderly vehicle towards the south.

The men, of course, were silent and would respond to any questions from the agent with grunts. As the bright lights of the Freetown grew, the driver turned off the jeep's lights and left the main road for a bumphy track. As the outskirts of the city grew ever larger, the jeep stopped and with a brute 'get out', the agent was directed to a manhole cover which lead to the formerly grand Freetown sewer system.

Formerly, of course, being the apt term, for santitation and pumbling had been lost arts to the Kaitan-Leagrans for some time. The sewers were, therefore, dry though filled with the black volcanic dust that seemed to get everywhere. The three men led the agent deeper and deeper into the abandoned sewers. The route they took through the sewers was deliberately complicated, often twisting and turning and, in several instances, making full circles before travelling in the direction they had already come. They did this in the hope that the agent, should circumstances ever permit it, would be unable to find his way back to their headquarters. Of course, they doubted they would be so lucky. Modern agents were trained to an inordant degree, inputing and processing information like computers. The militiamen, therefore, had no doubt that the man from the NIO would be any different. However, since Confederal Construction personnel had already made scouting missions into some of the outer system, the Sons of the Protestant Republic had no doubt that the sewers would soon be put back in operational use, and an alternative sight was already been found.

Eventually, however, the party arrived at a makeshift door which spanned the diameter of a tunnel. Leaving the agent with the others, one man made his way and, discussing with another via a hatch in said door, gained entrance. Again, the miltiamen doubted that the agent would not have picked up the password, but it was an intentionally old one, just in case.

The agent was led into the central hub of terrorist operations which, suprisingly for Kaitan-Leagran, was clean, efficient and organised. Men and women went out their business with quiet conversation, mostly in gaelic due to the foreigner's presence.

"Wait here." barked a guard, who made his way into a secondary chamber. Ten minutes passed, before the door opened and the guard reappeared.

"You," he said to the Agent, "in."

The Agent was led into a room and sat in a chair, before a bright light was shone at him. He would, of course, known of the presence of others behind the light, staying out of sight.

"Well," said an older voice, his accent still the harsh New Deasrarglaan kind but his tone almost weary, "You wanted to talk, you wanted to plan something, you wanted someone dead. So talk."

The Crown Prince had walked with the Moderator, hands clasped behind his back as he walked along looking through the castle though at the same time listening to the Moderator as he talked. As they came to the room, he took a seat, his full attention on the Moderator and Bishop. As the Moderator spoke, he nodded understandingly, his eyes watching intently showing that he was listening to the man. He cleared his throat,

"Yes, my sister is a bit of a realist and a cynic. I do not agree with all of the comments she made at that interview, and do intend speaking to her about them."

He then continues,

"I am not an atheist, and do believe in a higher power. I have been called a Buddhist, which I do practice Buddhism, but I do believe in God as an Creator and the Supreme Force of the Universe. I do feel it is a person's karma, or destiny as you will to become King, and that this destiny for such an position that affects so many is ordained by God because of its affect on so many different lives."

Euphosor made her guests some tea, serving it to them with a polite smile before taking a seat across from them. "I'm not looking for an offer. I've never sought to be a queen. I'm an illustrator." she said casually.

"I don't know very much about the island." Euphosor admitted. "I know that it was torn by sectarian violence until very recently. I know that the Confederated Peoples is one of several countries offering aid to Kaitan-Leagran as it now transitions to a democratic form of government."

"The role of a constitutional monarch is to provide a constitutional fount of sovereignty and of honours which is not associated with any of the various competing political parties and factions, to be informed of and consulted in regard to the legislative and executive business of the government, to give her formal assent to legislation and to act as a ceremonial symbol of national unity transcending partisan and sectarian divisions." Euphosor said. "As for the nobility..." She paused a moment as though considering her words. "It is no longer possible to speak of a constitutional role for the nobility. However, the nobility understands that with its privilege comes its responsibility and strong traditions of military and political service tend to prevail in such families."

Amestria's Ambassador to New Amsterdam was the Honorable Louis Sauveur Puchot, a rather gentlemanly fifty-something civil servant with a neat white mustache and Bismarckian haircut. He wheeled himself into the room seated on a wheelchair, both his legs having long ago been paralyzed. His personal aide, Samuel, who regularly assisted him in his day to day activities, remained outside.

The prevailing impression of Louis Puchot was that of a man who was amiable, content, and easy to get along with. An alumnus of the École Nationale d'Administration, he had attained success from the permanent validity of his degree and, barring some unforeseen accident or gross failing on his part, rightly expected that diploma to propel him all the way to retirement. As a result, when it came to his career Puchot was seldom dynamic and always careful, a cautiousness that only increased with age. Each morning he received his instructions from the Foreign Ministry and never so much as dreamed of disobeying. Kasumi, who knew Louis personally, was rather fond of him in an offhand way. “Who is Puchot?” she had once teasingly asked de Villepin. “Our Ambassador to the Confederated Peoples,” the Foreign Minister had replied. “So he is,” the President had said with a smile, “I had forgotten it.”

Rastel rose as the Amestrian was shown in. He offered his hand politely. "It's nice to finally meet you in person."

Louis enthusiastically gripped Rastel’s hand and shook it as if the Minister were a friend. Unfortunately, Puchot was quite strong and seldom fully conscious of his own strength, so Kevin was left with a dull ache in his right hand.

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, your Excellency.”

The Ambassador was a little annoyed after the Minister sat down and subsequently failed to offer him a drink, but he kept that to himself.

Rastel folded his hands in his lap and considered for a moment before he began. "So, I am given to understand that President Liscel has made some rather, shall we say interesting, proposals regarding the matter of Kaitan-Leagran. I am afraid that I have to inform you, as you doubtless already expected, that we are unable to accept Amestria's offer of aid on the terms suggested by President Liscel."

Puchot was clearly puzzled by Rastel's sudden announcement. He quickly removed a pad of notes from one of his coat pockets and glanced over them. Finding no satisfaction, he looked back up.

“May I ask what terms you are referring to?”

((Mostly a tag, not much chance of me getting involved at this stage, just following up the Ians' references to Walmington and keeping an eye on things. You can all ignore this, if you like, I'm trying to get myself back into the Walmy mindset and find out where we are so I can begin RPing again. It clearly has little bearing on the thread! :) ))

No surprise that the Korman operation went without Walmingtonian reaction in spite of the Empire's astonishingly protective attitude towards its cod stocks, for the Royal Walmingtonian Navy hadn't nearly hulls enough to patrol between the North Atlantic Home Islands and the Gallagan Ocean, let alone to watch the trawlers so closely as it once did.

Since the American misadventure and the Shieldian recession, the Empire had been in decline and quite deliberately returning to its traditional ways, fondly remembering and romanticising the Year of the Golden Harvest (1802) while pretending that it hadn't ushered in the First Great Liberal Age that lasted until the 1860s and Alexander Vale's conservative writings. While this greatly reduced many capabilities and much of the positivity in the Empire's reputation amongst modern nations it did not prevent the record keeping that would notice any irregularity in Korman's voyaging and catching.

The only problem was that, typed-up on a clatterbox and stuffed into a cupboard, reference to any lateness in the boat's return would be uncovered only by random chance of Civil Service inspection.

And so piracy and espionage in traditionally safe Walmy waters became entirely workable.

"Namely that Amestria wishes to provide its aid for Deasrargle through the Confederated Peoples rather than through the IAA or the Provisional Government. It is not acceptable to us to channel aid in this way. We consider the harm to the legitimacy of the Provisional Government which would be done but an Amestrian refusal to deal with them directly would far outweigh any good that might be done by the practical aid President Liscel offered to make available." Rastel explained.

"This is especially true in light of the other and rather disturbing proposals President Liscel conveyed to this Government regarding her preferred solution to the problems of Kaitan-Leagran, one based essentially on systematic violations of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights which this country recognizes in good faith. Namely, that the democratic rights of the people of Kaitan-Leagran be suspended, a Confederal administrative apparatus put in place and parents despoiled of their prior right to determine the form of their children's education within the context of the general right to an education and the framework of reasonable state restrictions instituted to ensure this right. She also mentioned trying to destroy the Churches and remove the current political and religious leadership." Rastel's tone quivered slightly as he recounted the, to him at least, truly horrific proposal.

The Crown Prince had walked with the Moderator, hands clasped behind his back as he walked along looking through the castle though at the same time listening to the Moderator as he talked. As they came to the room, he took a seat, his full attention on the Moderator and Bishop. As the Moderator spoke, he nodded understandingly, his eyes watching intently showing that he was listening to the man. He cleared his throat,

"Yes, my sister is a bit of a realist and a cynic. I do not agree with all of the comments she made at that interview, and do intend speaking to her about them."

He then continues,

"I am not an atheist, and do believe in a higher power. I have been called a Buddhist, which I do practice Buddhism, but I do believe in God as an Creator and the Supreme Force of the Universe. I do feel it is a person's karma, or destiny as you will to become King, and that this destiny for such an position that affects so many is ordained by God because of its affect on so many different lives."

"That sounds entirely reasonable to me," said the Bishop stroking his beard, "Which makes me wonder if the Aerionian concept of kingship is noticably different from your own."
"Yes," said the Moderator, "I mean, you have to understand, your Highness, that we're in this for the dynasty, not just the person. What is the traditional, or widely spread at least, view of the monarchy in Aerion? And by that I mean, legitimacy and such as opposed to what the monarchy does, with symbolism and parades and such."
"I am afraid to say," said the Bishop again, "That I know very little of your country, alas. In many cases I have learnt all I know from the PINA interview with your sister. Could you provide a sort history of your nation in the last few years. I understand you had a fascist pseudo-emperor of sorts?"

Euphosor made her guests some tea, serving it to them with a polite smile before taking a seat across from them. "I'm not looking for an offer. I've never sought to be a queen. I'm an illustrator." she said casually.

"I don't know very much about the island." Euphosor admitted. "I know that it was torn by sectarian violence until very recently. I know that the Confederated Peoples is one of several countries offering aid to Kaitan-Leagran as it now transitions to a democratic form of government."

"The role of a constitutional monarch is to provide a constitutional fount of sovereignty and of honours which is not associated with any of the various competing political parties and factions, to be informed of and consulted in regard to the legislative and executive business of the government, to give her formal assent to legislation and to act as a ceremonial symbol of national unity transcending partisan and sectarian divisions." Euphosor said. "As for the nobility..." She paused a moment as though considering her words. "It is no longer possible to speak of a constitutional role for the nobility. However, the nobility understands that with its privilege comes its responsibility and strong traditions of military and political service tend to prevail in such families."

"Well, mi'lady," said Marriott with a smile, "I don't think there will be much of a role for aristocracy in Kaitan-Leagran. From what I understand, it will be something akin to Norway, in that it will have a monarch but not the ancillary nobility."

"I would think it prudent," said Tetl, "To ask if you think it legitimate that a member of the aristocracy can be elevated to royalty. After all, I can only think of one relatively recent example of this, and that was Belgium."

"And the Belgians," said the Ambassador, "Chose from the House of Saxe-Coburg-Gothe, which was something of a special feudal house."

"It would appear to be an odd question, ma'am," said Tetl again, "But we have to be assured."

"And I have also be mandated/required to ask into your ladyship's faith," said the Ambassador with an obvious air of disgust, "I have always thought it to be grossly impolite as to enquire as to another's private beliefs, but the Kaitan-Leagrans are quite adamant that a non-Christian monarch must be secure in their own faith if they are to reign effectively over their land."

"The last sort of person they want," said Iona, "Is someone like Princess Ameria, who seemed to be very atheistic to be, if anyone else saw that interview?"

http://s54.photobucket.com/albums/g83/tsarnoel/th_DeasrargleRoyalSeal-1-1.png
The Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran

The Provisional Government of Kaitan-Leagran, acting as the legitimate voice of the people, cannot help but notice the wave of diplomatic activity that has recently occured and is occuring on the subject of Kaitan-Leagran.

It is the sincerest wish of the Provisional Government, in the near future, to cease operations and hand over the reigns of power to a democratically elected government comprising of all community members on the island. Until that time, however, we remain concern about any attempt to undermine the legitimacy of our efforts or of our very existence.

Far be it from us to say, but we would remind the international community that enough people on Kaitan-Leagran would gladly revert to the bloody days of old, with their communal hatreds and destruction of lives, and would happily rise up given a moment's weakness. We would ask you all, therefore, to consider this the next time you think you will communicate with us only via a third party, such as the I.A.A. Such acts are not only insulting, but risk everything we have worked for.

That is all.

"You," he said to the Agent, "in."

The Agent was led into a room and sat in a chair, before a bright light was shone at him. He would, of course, known of the presence of others behind the light, staying out of sight.

"Well," said an older voice, his accent still the harsh New Deasrarglaan kind but his tone almost weary, "You wanted to talk, you wanted to plan something, you wanted someone dead. So talk."

The harsh tones and gruff actions may have been intended to intimidate Doters, but it had quite the opposite effect. Instead, it was confirming the Admiralty's decision to affiliate with the Sons. The apparent openness in which they operated was an interesting commentary on the effectiveness of local security forces.

Once in the room, Doters blinked against the bright light and smiled.

"Thank you for receiving me," he said. His English carried the slightest hint of a Dutch accent; whether by affectation or as a genuine result of those years speaking and thinking in the language, Doters wasn't letting on.

"I would prefer not to think in terms of who wants whom killed but rather what we can do to help one another. We should like one man in particular killed, yes, and you should like to see foreign idolists removed from your homeland. You have the manpower and local know-how to see both these goals accomplished, but you haven't the currency, hardware, and technical expertise you need. We have.

"Which is why I've been sent. Consider it an alliance, if you will, with both parties working to help the other acheive their goal."

The harsh tones and gruff actions may have been intended to intimidate Doters, but it had quite the opposite effect. Instead, it was confirming the Admiralty's decision to affiliate with the Sons. The apparent openness in which they operated was an interesting commentary on the effectiveness of local security forces.

Once in the room, Doters blinked against the bright light and smiled.

"Thank you for receiving me," he said. His English carried the slightest hint of a Dutch accent; whether by affectation or as a genuine result of those years speaking and thinking in the language, Doters wasn't letting on.

"I would prefer not to think in terms of who wants whom killed but rather what we can do to help one another. We should like one man in particular killed, yes, and you should like to see foreign idolists removed from your homeland. You have the manpower and local know-how to see both these goals accomplished, but you haven't the currency, hardware, and technical expertise you need. We have.

"Which is why I've been sent. Consider it an alliance, if you will, with both parties working to help the other acheive their goal."

"Any alliance," said another voice from beyond the light, "Will be temporary and goal-specific. The Protestant Republic is not in the habit of working with outsiders."

"Though," said another, "Your actions will be remembered when we sweep the papists and idolators from power. Then we shall talk friendship."

"This is silly," said the first voice, "Turn off that light, he might as well see us."

The light was duly extiguished, revealing half a dozen men of various ages, dressed from combats to navy-coloured business suits.

"Right," said the original voice, which now revealed itself to be from a short, elderly man with large glasses and wearing the above-mentioned blue suit, "You haven't answered the question, dutchman, what do you want from us? You can talk of grand notions of friendship, but for the moment we want to talk specifics. So talk specifics."

"Right," said the original voice, which now revealed itself to be from a short, elderly man with large glasses and wearing the above-mentioned blue suit, "You haven't answered the question, dutchman, what do you want from us? You can talk of grand notions of friendship, but for the moment we want to talk specifics. So talk specifics."

Doters hadn't meant to answer the question, of course. Not until he had been more certain of a friendly reception.

"Then I shall be as plain as possible. There is an enemy of mine in your country, and I should very much like him killed. Peter Alexandrovich is a dangerous ...Easterner seeking the throne to impose Orthodoxy over Kaitan-Leagran. It is in our interest that he should be killed, and in your interest as well."

Doters stumbled just slightly over the word 'Easterner'. He was not a deeply religious man, having not been to mass in more than a dozen years, and in his zeal to appear a fanatic had almost said 'schismatic' -- a favorite anti-Orthadox slur from his Catholic upbringing -- before he checked himself, sure that the word would not be well-received by a Protestant.

Puchot shrugged. “All sensible, practical suggestions...”

Louis paused for a moment before continuing. His voice was amiable and his tone good natured, but his words had a certain no nonsense quality to them.

“Has New Deasrargle ever really had a functioning system of democratic rights? After all, until relatively recently Freetown was controlled by a drug lord infamous for disemboweling his enemies and publicly hacking off the limbs of those who opposed him, and the last 100 years have been filled with the most appalling violence. Republicanism, Liberty, and Human Rights are all clearly foreign to that island and its people. It’s society very much a historical failure. Seeds do not do well in soils unsuited for their cultivation, and the same goes for ideas. The fields must first be plowed and the beds prepared. Sometimes, such as when one is draining a swamp, it can be an enterprise of truly monstrous proportions.”

The Ambassador again shrugged his shoulders.

“The Confederation might be able to direct things behind the scenes by maneuvering the right people into place and quietly liquidating key individuals, but the whole situation could easily fly out of control and there will be no real widespread social transformation. Covert operations like Operation Dinah, once discovered, can easily be disrupted (and in the meantime cause much domestic embarrassment). You might as well sweep the whole slate clean and start afresh, that was simply what the President wished to convey.”

“As for why the President offered to provide aid through your government rather then do so directly… Amestria does not presently recognize the Provisional Government, or whatever that collection of criminals, warlords, thieves, charlatans, and would-be-prophets is now calling itself (we are in good company, the Xirniumite Republic does not recognize them either). To my knowledge Amestria never even recognized the Second Protestant Republic. Our State simply cannot treat those bloodsuckers on equal terms; it is a matter of principle, of dignity.”

“Let me make clear though, Amestria in no way opposes New Deasrargle’s gradual and inevitable incorporation into the Confederation. We will in all likelihood extend relations once you have installed one of your Royals as the Head of State and the temporary power structure is replaced by a more permanent one. You need not be worried about the prospect of the Amestrian State questioning the future permanent government’s lawfulness. We understand fully how the game is played; everyone imposes their own system as far as their armies can reach.”

Louis gave the Foreign Minister a friendly smile.

“I really see no reason for your government to reject our generous offer, which was made by our Chef of State as a sincere and personal gesture of friendship. Concerns about legitimacy are unwarranted at present. No one really takes the Provisional Government seriously, I mean, how much legitimacy can such a primitive regime have when it can’t even stop brigands from snipping the capital on a daily basis, when it attempts to recruit foreign pretenders through newspaper advertisements, and when it requires the presence of foreign personnel to provide the most basic of services?”

Puchot waved his hand dismissively. “Not much.”

"Your Excellency, meaning no offense, but you are shockingly ignorant of our nation, our motives and our current policies for a man in your position. I simply do not recognize my country's policies at all in your account and I have no intention of going through and denying, one by one, your many gratuitous insults. It goes without saying that any liquidation or any desire to incorporate Kaitan-Leagran into the Confederated Peoples is simply out of the question and has never been considered by this Government at any level. Your allegation, your professed assumption, that such is our policy is taken as what it is, a grave and gratuitous insult." Rastel said calmly.

"Pretences aside, there is nothing even conciliatory, much less friendly, about President Liscel's actions and policies or about your words just now. This Government has been trying very hard to establish a cooperative relationship with Amestria and Amestria, by almost every action they've taken in the last year, has made it clear that it does not desire one or even to be taken seriously at all in New Amsterdam. President Liscel's is still denied. This meeting was not a meeting to discuss the offer itself. It simply was not on the table. Your Government should regard acceptance of this offer by our Government as simply impossible. It will not, under any circumstances, be accepted, regardless of anything you might say or do. What I do want you to convey to your Government is that its decision to continue to press for acceptance of this arrangement here today instead of seeking to conciliate my Government, which has never considered it anything but a joke and an insult and will never consider it anything else, has cost President Liscel all credibility and good-will in New Amsterdam. And I do mean all. Was there anything else?"

Puchot listened quietly. By the time the Minister had finished Puchot was gripping the handles of his wheelchair with increasing anger and frustration. The Ambassador did not so much as raise his voice, but his tone and forward posture made the change in mood readily apparent. Whether or not offense had been meant (and it certainly had been, it was difficult to see how Rastel’s remarks could have been interpreted any other way), it had certainly been taken.

“Do you think we’re children!? Well, do you?!”

He continued without waiting for an answer.

“You expect our State to simply accept that the Provisional Government, as of its own free and independent will, decided upon a Monarchy, presided over by a foreigner?! Of course the fact your Confederation has an abundant surplus of idle Royalty and recently installed a Monarchy in Marland is just a coincidence? I bet there are officers secretly interviewing potential candidates as we speak.”

His tone relaxed and he began to sit back.

“Are we also to accept without thinking that the reason your Ambassador was so unconcerned with the wrong sort of person attaining the throne was real and legitimate trust in the Deasrarglian people? I mean, one can only have such confidence if one knows what is going to happen with certainty, meaning one has arranged for things to happen. Everything has been very convenient Minister; there have been a lot of shadowy things going on concerning that worthless forsaken island. And are we to believe that Operation Dinah was an exception? We know how those things work Minister, we recognize them. Had the government not known and been a willing participant, Ms. Wake would be in a prison cell rather then touring the world.”

“The Xirniumites think so as well Mr. Rastel,” the Ambassador added, “and they are not the only ones. But none of that matters to us. The President made a general offer of assistance, yes there were specifics, but it was at heart a general offer. There is no reason it could not be altered or changed, no reason something different could not be found to work together on. It was an offer, not a command, not a demand, an offer from a fellow Atlantic nation, a private signal of good intentions.”

The Ambassador said the words good intentions with what sounded like weary dismay.

“And why did you summon me here if there were to be no discussions?” Puchot finished, slumping back in his wheelchair, tired and indignant. “I have pressed nothing; I merely pointed out what my State perceives… Is there anything else?! You called me here just to listen to a simple statement of blanket refusal...rang me up like ladies once rang up their chamber maids, not even offering me a drink, just to tell me something that could easily have been relayed over the phone, and you ask me if there is anything else…?”

He paused. “Yes actually, I would like some tea. Black, with cream and sugar.”

"If you do not want to be treated like a child, stop acting like one. Your accusations are wild and baseless. It is, in fact, not convenient that Kaitan-Leagran hold an open house for a monarch attended by no Confederal royalty and by representatives of several hostile or potentially hostile states. Our willingness to trust the Kaitan-Leagran people to select their own monarch is based simply in the fact that we do genuinely and not merely symbolically recognize the Provisional Government. Trust in that context doesn't mean that we know we'll agree with the decision. It just means that we relate to them in accordance with international law and with basic diplomatic propriety. The very question is in a sense as inappropriate and absurd as whether the Confederal Government can trust the people of Amestria to elect a good President." Rastel said calmly.

"I called you here in the hope of reconciliation because our nation is sincerely seeking friendship and cooperation with yours. However, instead, you have chosen to insult, attack and undermine us at every turn so I am about to just wash my hands of the whole thing. In the meantime, I'll have you brought your coffee. Congratulations. While you and your Government's policies have essentially destroyed the credibility of your Government, all good will towards your nation and any hope for future cooperation, all in the last five minutes of ranting, you have managed to secure a drink. Perhaps it will be the highpoint of your diplomatic career?" Rastel smiled as though he had just given Puchot a genuine comment before paging his secretary to bring the tea.

Rastel’s last insult was just too much for Puchot. Hot angry tears began to stream down his cheeks and he quickly took out a handkerchief. It was only his determination to carry out the Foreign Ministry’s instructions that stopped the Ambassador from storming out then and there.

“It’s something I suppose,” Louis growled, wiping his face. “And it’s tea Mr. Rastel, black tea. My doctor has advised me not to drink coffee. If for some reason this building is utterly devoid of tea, I will instead have some water.”

Puchot slumped back as if utterly exhausted.

“Attack and undermine you at every turn, Government policies,” he repeated. “What the hell are you talking about?”

"I am talking about your Government's refusal to recognize an ally of this country whose sovereignty we guarantee. I am talking about you insistence on a plan whose primary effect would be to involve this country in an open slight to the sovereignty of our ally and to make us appear imperialistic in the eyes of international public opinion by suggesting that said ally is in fact a dependency of this country. I am talking about your extremely uneven approach to the extradition treaty, demanding on the one hand that all legal Amestrian exceptions to extradition be respected and yet, at the same time, trying to prevent this country from maintaining legally comparable exceptions such as cases where permanent physical disfigurement might be a punishment or where trial in absentia was employed in the conviction. I am talking about you, in this office, right now, accusing this country of murder, imperialism, manipulation of elections and the desire to annex a neighbor. I am talking about your President saying that an ally of this country deserved to be conquered, her leaders murdered or imprisoned and her people deprived of basic human rights. All of that is what we get for offering you unconditional nuclear guaranties, the proposed cooperation treaties and, until very recently, our general support and good-will." Rastel answered. "Do you understand now?"

After a few moments, Rastel's secretary came in to serve Puchot his tea. She frowned slightly at the scene and whispered quietly to Rastel "What did you do to that poor old chap?"

Rastel,for his part, just gave her a look and she left. However, after a moment, he began to calm down a bit, getting both the anger and the hurt under control. His expression softened somewhat and he said "I did mean to say tea. It was just a slip of the tongue, honestly." although he didn't seem likely to go further than that without something from the Amestrian. He settled back into his chair patiently.

"That sounds entirely reasonable to me," said the Bishop stroking his beard, "Which makes me wonder if the Aerionian concept of kingship is noticably different from your own."
"Yes," said the Moderator, "I mean, you have to understand, your Highness, that we're in this for the dynasty, not just the person. What is the traditional, or widely spread at least, view of the monarchy in Aerion? And by that I mean, legitimacy and such as opposed to what the monarchy does, with symbolism and parades and such."
"I am afraid to say," said the Bishop again, "That I know very little of your country, alas. In many cases I have learnt all I know from the PINA interview with your sister. Could you provide a sort history of your nation in the last few years. I understand you had a fascist pseudo-emperor of sorts?"

The Crown Prince listens politely to the Moderator, and then to the Bishop. He begins to articule on the points,

"The Monarchy is viewed as having the right to rule by bloodline as descendent from First Elder Wasterin V'i, first unifier of the twenty tribes of Aerion, the "Father of the Nation". In this the Royal Family has always been a symbol of national unity since King Wasterin I, even the repressive fascist government did not totally do away with us. As far as the view of a God given right to rule, of course because of the varied religious beliefs of our country, 25% of whom are Buddhist, some feel it is the karma of the King to rule while others do not. I am raising my own daughter with my views.

It is not part of the King's title, however, to say "By the Grace of God", however an part of the title is "Pontifex Maximus" harkening back to the day when the Aerionians were modeling their first national unified identity after the Roman Republic government system. Pontifex Maximus in the traditional Roman view of saying the King is the highest religious authority, but now it is purely symbolic. 40% of the Aerionian people are agnostic or atheistic after all, unfortunately, though because of the religious freedom and expression King Wasterin X and now my government has encouraged this percentage has changed."

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts before he continues to speak, "Yes, it is an unfortunate fact that following the Monarchy put into place by King Wasterin I and predecessors, an fascist coup took place and removed the monarchy from power. The "Divine Emperor" and his fascist "Imperial Party" then took power, one of the worst times in our nation's history. This is fortunately quiet some time ago, and King Wasterin X secured the monarchy."

He shifted in his chair, and his eyes focused as he spoke clearly and distinctly though with warmth, "My thoughts have been that if chosen I would in a separate coronation be crowned King of Kaitan-Leagran. I believe and I assume as you envision that the Monarchy of Kaitain-Leagran should be distinct from the monarch's native nation, and that while I would be King of Aerion I would distinctly and separately be King of Kaitan-Leagran or if you choose another monarch that they would be distinctly and separately King or Queen of Kaitan-Leagran as their individual person, and this is why the relationship between the monarch's native nation and Kaitan-Leagran would be a personal union . This is why, on the issue you had mentioned earlier, it matters what the people of Kaitan-Leagran feel about their monarchy rather than what the Aerionian people feel about the Aerionian Monarchy. It may not be that I officially By the Grace of God in title be the King of Aerion, but I may By the Grace of God in title be King of Kaitan-Leagran. Though as per etiquette, the full title of my person would include By the Grace of God, King of Kaitan-Leagran." He concludes.

"Who is Princess Ameria?" Euphosor inquired politely. "I do not believe I'm familiar with her. Is she a Hipolitan?"

Euphosor then addressed the questions which she had just been asked. "Just last year, High King Owain was elected Emperor of Nabarro Abarca by the Nabarran Elector-Princes. The only absolute prerequisite for receiving such an honor is descent from a previous Nabarran Emperor, Roman Emperor or Holy Roman Emperor. The High King, descended from the line of the High Kings of Dana since time immemorial, was only eligible because he was also descended from the Roman Emperor Constantine III, who, prior to being proclaimed as Emperor, had been, not even an aristocrat, but a common soldier. So, yes, it is certainly legitimate. However, I don't know if it would be wise. Surely you have many better choices in the royal applicants who have come forward?"

"It is a personal question but not one that I mind answering. I am a Hindu." Euphosor answered the second question simply and to the point.

The Times of Kaitan-Leagran
Editorial
Even fools can, on occasion, stumble upon the truth

It is not an unfair comment to suggest that Amestria is not the most popular of nations among Kaitan-Leagrans. Call us old-fashioned, but we tend to dislike governments that (by methods both overt and coded) proclaim our virtual illegitimacy to consider oursleves a nation or a body politic. It is not often, after all, that others refuse to deal with another sovereign government, provisional and temporary though it may be, for reasons both political and, one suspects, racist. It does not take a genius in the realm of international politics to realise that Amestria believes that the readers of this particular publication are, in essence, existing on some plain of existence between a barbarous animal and a sheep, since we must first be beaten into submission before we are allowed to be 'civilised'.
Dated though Liscel's views are, though, even the Amestrians have stumbled upon a pin of truth among the haystack of idiocy. And that is that we, all Kaitan-Leagrans of all creeds, should watch the Confederation of Peoples with a careful eye.
Now, as neighbours go, the Confederation is pretty good. We, the editorial team, type this summary upon a computer generously donated by a confederation member-state. The Confederation has aided us ceaselessly, fought the good fight abroad for our cause and, by their goodwill, the political process rumbles on. Yet Kaitan-Leagran, very literally, is an island in a Confederation sea. We are surrounded by member-states and, whatever the declared motives, surely none of us can really believe that somewhere in New Amsterdam or Taranna a man does not sit with dreams of a Kaitan-Leagran representative standing alongside his Finaran brothers and Danaan sisters in a united government. And maybe we will, but it seems ironic that our closest neighbours should be creating trans-national institutions are exactly the point where Kaitain-Leagran is attempting to build a nation state. And while we have much to thank the Confederation for, we must remember that the same well-meaning overtones ultimately made Cuba a puppet of the United States until the Revolution.
That is why, with no offence intended to her as an individual, this paper can in no way support any concerted effort to ask Baroness Euphosor to become Monarch of our island. Commendable though she may be, a Confederation Royal is too great a pressure upon our fledging society, allowing many (somewhat correctly it would have to said) to assume that Kaitan-Leagran was, indeed, slowly being assimilated into a vassal-like state. The Confederation's influence on our island is already great; there is no need to cement that into a permanent position.

Doters hadn't meant to answer the question, of course. Not until he had been more certain of a friendly reception.

"Then I shall be as plain as possible. There is an enemy of mine in your country, and I should very much like him killed. Peter Alexandrovich is a dangerous ...Easterner seeking the throne to impose Orthodoxy over Kaitan-Leagran. It is in our interest that he should be killed, and in your interest as well."

Doters stumbled just slightly over the word 'Easterner'. He was not a deeply religious man, having not been to mass in more than a dozen years, and in his zeal to appear a fanatic had almost said 'schismatic' -- a favorite anti-Orthadox slur from his Catholic upbringing -- before he checked himself, sure that the word would not be well-received by a Protestant.

Despite the apparant professionalism of the insurgents, one had to remember that these were not trained soldiers or agents. These were, in essence, coffee-house cranks that possessed enough rational thought to organise, get guns and do stuff. Doters' stumble, therefore, was entirely unnoticed by all present, though it was also important that he be ever mindful not to display any Catholicism in this company.

The man with the large glasses and the blue suit smiled, rising from his chair and proceeding over to where the dutchman sat.

"You know what," he said, extending his hand in friendship, "For a Foreigner, you're not half bad. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Nathanial O'Leary [which was, of course, a poor cover of his real name, but the agent was at least fortunate to receive any name, real or otherwise] I apologise if your journey, or reception, was hostile but we, sir, are in a war. A war against Popery, against sodomy, against sin, against idolatry and all the other blasphemy against God's Word. We sir, in short, are fighting against the devil and his minions and have to be sure that you were from the Chosen and not the damned.

You're also right, of course, this damned Greek dog must be killed, before he or his kind can pollute God's holy earth any longer. We're currently planning a big operation of another sort, but we will give you every assurance that this man, if he can even be called that, will soon be drawing his last breath."

The Crown Prince listens politely to the Moderator, and then to the Bishop. He begins to articule on the points,

"The Monarchy is viewed as having the right to rule by bloodline as descendent from First Elder Wasterin V'i, first unifier of the twenty tribes of Aerion, the "Father of the Nation". In this the Royal Family has always been a symbol of national unity since King Wasterin I, even the repressive fascist government did not totally do away with us. As far as the view of a God given right to rule, of course because of the varied religious beliefs of our country, 25% of whom are Buddhist, some feel it is the karma of the King to rule while others do not. I am raising my own daughter with my views.

It is not part of the King's title, however, to say "By the Grace of God", however an part of the title is "Pontifex Maximus" harkening back to the day when the Aerionians were modeling their first national unified identity after the Roman Republic government system. Pontifex Maximus in the traditional Roman view of saying the King is the highest religious authority, but now it is purely symbolic. 40% of the Aerionian people are agnostic or atheistic after all, unfortunately, though because of the religious freedom and expression King Wasterin X and now my government has encouraged this percentage has changed."

He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts before he continues to speak, "Yes, it is an unfortunate fact that following the Monarchy put into place by King Wasterin I and predecessors, an fascist coup took place and removed the monarchy from power. The "Divine Emperor" and his fascist "Imperial Party" then took power, one of the worst times in our nation's history. This is fortunately quiet some time ago, and King Wasterin X secured the monarchy."

He shifted in his chair, and his eyes focused as he spoke clearly and distinctly though with warmth, "My thoughts have been that if chosen I would in a separate coronation be crowned King of Kaitan-Leagran. I believe and I assume as you envision that the Monarchy of Kaitain-Leagran should be distinct from the monarch's native nation, and that while I would be King of Aerion I would distinctly and separately be King of Kaitan-Leagran or if you choose another monarch that they would be distinctly and separately King or Queen of Kaitan-Leagran as their individual person, and this is why the relationship between the monarch's native nation and Kaitan-Leagran would be a personal union . This is why, on the issue you had mentioned earlier, it matters what the people of Kaitan-Leagran feel about their monarchy rather than what the Aerionian people feel about the Aerionian Monarchy. It may not be that I officially By the Grace of God in title be the King of Aerion, but I may By the Grace of God in title be King of Kaitan-Leagran. Though as per etiquette, the full title of my person would include By the Grace of God, King of Kaitan-Leagran." He concludes.

"Oh, we fully understand that any union would be a personal one, and not a political matter," said the Bishop after the Prince has ceased, "But we had to be sure that the person we were getting, that is yourselve and your successors, would be broadly in concurence with some of the ideals of our island."
"Quite," said the Moderator, "We don't take kindly to atheists, your Highness, as you may have noted. A person may be unsure of the existence of the Divine, we are all free to possess doubts, but to actively dismiss it is not only harmful to oneselve but also to society in general. We may be builidng a secular state, but not a secularist one."
"Which, I suppose," said the Bishop, regarding his counterpart with a somewhat weary eye following his outburst of sorts, "Brings us on to any issues or matters that you may wish to ask us before we direct you to your accomodation?"

"Who is Princess Ameria?" Euphosor inquired politely. "I do not believe I'm familiar with her. Is she a Hipolitan?"

Euphosor then addressed the questions which she had just been asked. "Just last year, High King Owain was elected Emperor of Nabarro Abarca by the Nabarran Elector-Princes. The only absolute prerequisite for receiving such an honor is descent from a previous Nabarran Emperor, Roman Emperor or Holy Roman Emperor. The High King, descended from the line of the High Kings of Dana since time immemorial, was only eligible because he was also descended from the Roman Emperor Constantine III, who, prior to being proclaimed as Emperor, had been, not even an aristocrat, but a common soldier. So, yes, it is certainly legitimate. However, I don't know if it would be wise. Surely you have many better choices in the royal applicants who have come forward?"

"It is a personal question but not one that I mind answering. I am a Hindu." Euphosor answered the second question simply and to the point.

Tetl raised a quizzical eyebrow at the Baroness' first answer.
"Forgive me, Your Ladyship, but if you don't think it would be wise then why are willing to agree to the act. And if you think that others would be more suitable, then please suggest them and we shall pass them onto the releavent authorities."
"Tetl!" boomed the Ambassador, "How dare you be so rude! The Baroness is merely being modest about her abilities. Such behaviour will not be tolerated by the Diplomatic Service."
"My apologises," said Tetl with a grimace, "But we are here on a fact-finding mission, and thus it is vitally important that we obtain those self-same 'facts'."
"I think," said Marriott rising unsteadily to his feet, "That we have obtained all the 'facts' needed for one day. Your Ladyship, I thank you for your generous hospitality. I shall pass on all relavent information to the Provisional Government, and shall inform you in advance if further details are required. Come along Tetl, we shall not trouble the Baroness any longer. Madam, my apologises for my staff."
"Oh, are we going?" asked a confused Iona, "Er, thank you your ladyship, I hope we meet again soon!"

Euphosor seemed more than a little surprised by the rather abrupt exchange among her guests and their, apparently embarrassed, departure. She had actually opened her mouth to answer Tetl's question when Marriott shut him down. Smiling graciously, she rose and walked her guests to the door. "Really, Your Excellency, there is nothing to apologize for. I enjoyed the company."

She nodded to Iona. "I hope so too, madam. It was very nice meeting you. It was nice meeting all of you." She offered her hand to her departing guests and waited until the elevator door closed behind them before shutting her own door, as was polite.

When the delegation had left, Euphosor went over to her personal computer and logged on the one of the more popular Confederal search-engines, BansheeBoggle and looked up this Ameria person, since her question had not been answered. She curiously read an article about the woman before returning to work.

"You know what," he said, extending his hand in friendship, "For a Foreigner, you're not half bad. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Nathanial O'Leary [which was, of course, a poor cover of his real name, but the agent was at least fortunate to receive any name, real or otherwise] I apologise if your journey, or reception, was hostile but we, sir, are in a war. A war against Popery, against sodomy, against sin, against idolatry and all the other blasphemy against God's Word. We sir, in short, are fighting against the devil and his minions and have to be sure that you were from the Chosen and not the damned.

You're also right, of course, this damned Greek dog must be killed, before he or his kind can pollute God's holy earth any longer. We're currently planning a big operation of another sort, but we will give you every assurance that this man, if he can even be called that, will soon be drawing his last breath."

Doters allowed himself a small smile. "Erlend Stougaard," he replied, giving himself a Norse name, "and pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr O'Leary." He was too swarthy to have actually been Scandinavian, of course, but it was all part of a calculated move to keep them guessing as to his ethnicity and governmental connections. The Walmingtonian flag, Dutch accent, and Danish names were all meant to imply northern Europe -- and therefore Protestant -- without giving a definate route to trace.

The long speech about the evils of papistry might have sent a less well-prepared man into a rage, or at least set him back, but Doters kept perfect control over his expression. His lips curled into an eager half-grin and even managed to make his eyes twinkle a bit.

"The noblest of causes, Mr O'Leary, and one in which I am all too eager to lend support. I have lost family to the non-believers, you see." That was actually true -- a cousin had been killed aboard the Republic when she had been maimed by Valinor aeroflyers. If your men would care to help, I believe that we have some stores aboard my ship that would be of interest to your cause."

And indeed they did. Although only about thirty per cent was made available to the sons at first, Korman still carried an impressive assortment of weapons, with origins as ethnically diverse as Doters/Stougaard's identity. There were Walmingtonian pistols, British machine guns, Dutch rifles, American explosives, and crates of ammunition -- nearly everything a seperatist movement could hope for. There was also a briefcase, filled with Walmingtonian pounds, and a duffel carrying gold bars to give away -- with the implication that there would be more, if the Sons cooperated fully.

"Oh, we fully understand that any union would be a personal one, and not a political matter," said the Bishop after the Prince has ceased, "But we had to be sure that the person we were getting, that is yourselve and your successors, would be broadly in concurence with some of the ideals of our island."
"Quite," said the Moderator, "We don't take kindly to atheists, your Highness, as you may have noted. A person may be unsure of the existence of the Divine, we are all free to possess doubts, but to actively dismiss it is not only harmful to oneselve but also to society in general. We may be builidng a secular state, but not a secularist one."
"Which, I suppose," said the Bishop, regarding his counterpart with a somewhat weary eye following his outburst of sorts, "Brings us on to any issues or matters that you may wish to ask us before we direct you to your accomodation?"


The Crown Prince expressed just a bit of a frown, but then spoke strongly, "I, and others in my family are certainly not atheists. My sister is a bit of a realist, she believes perhaps a bit too extremely in the separation of church and state, but I know her personally to have some belief in the Divine though she believes it is very bad for the state to name any view. You know my personal beliefs in a Divine force are very strong, and I believe that some form of spiritual practice is important for anyone's good moral and psychological health. The other members of my family, and the officers of my government do believe in some form of the Divine. Many describe themselves as "spiritual", though through the work of the Catholics it seems two my officers of state, and a minister recently converted. The majority of the ruling class of Aerion are, it is sad to say, atheistic or agnostic but that is Aerion and certainly not my family." He nodded, a bit more kindly, "Yes, I am a bit tired so I will retire for the evening."

The Ambassador gulped down his tea, which seemed to help steady him. His posture straitened a little, but he still looked miserable.

“Minister, if any of my remarks caused offense, such offense was not intended and I apologize.”

“You can consider Amestria’s offer of assistance, which was made with the best of intentions, completely retracted,” he added, somewhat miserably. “Though I’ll have to leave this meeting with something for la Ma’jor…”

He paused a moment before continuing.

“As for New Deasrargle’s status, the President and Minister de Villepin will certainly not extend recognition until Xirnium does so as well, for obvious reasons.”

Puchot once again glanced at his pad of notes and for the second time found no satisfaction.

"I’m afraid I have no instructions regarding the extradition treaty, but as I understand it negotiations are still ongoing. In any case, I think you may have read too much into the opening stages.”

Rastel nodded. "Thank you. Let's try to avoid having any more meetings like this one." He smiled weakly. "So what sort of something did you have in mind?"

ooc: Does this plot continue?

ooc: It can do, but I have been busy as of late.