NationStates Jolt Archive

Throughout the world, letters found their way to the desks of heads of state. Each was written in the language of its intended recipient, sealed in wax bearing the sunburst seal of the House of Denikarev - the ruling House of New Katagan.

To [the title of each addressee, whether they be Emperor, President, or Generalissimo Primo - each letter should be written with the proper etiquette, but the Katagani may occasionally make mistakes] ...

It is my pleasure to invite you to New Katagan's annual Festival of Landfall, in which we celebrate the successful crossing of the Last Fleet to New Katagan from our old home. The Festival of Landfall is traditionally a time of much revelry, and this year - the five hundred and seventeenth anniversary of the Landfall - the House of Denikarev is throwing open the doors of the Maple Palace to international heads of state such as yourself.

The Festival of Landfall will be celebrated with a formal dinner and masquerade ball (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masquerade_ball), attended by the greatest nobility of the Federal Monarchy and - it is my sincere hope - by you and your family as well.

This occasion is also the first formal presentation of Mira Denikarev as High Queen of New Katagan, a momentous occasion for our nation. Her Majesty would be most honoured by your attendance at $time on $date.

Sincerely,

Julian Kane
Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

---

"I can't do it, Julian, I can't! I can't ... be him."

Mira hunched her shoulders forward, warding away physical contact. Julian clasped his hands behind his back, resisting the concurrent urges to either hug or shake the young Crown Princess - the High Queen, now, and he'd better not forget it.

"Nobody's asking you to be anybody but yourself, Mira. You can do it."

"But - but the formality, and the dancing, and the - the - all this!"

Mira waved a hand over the view from the balcony, indicating the lights of the harbour and Kalasinova at the foot of the cliffs. Privately, Julian sympathised with her panic - New Katagan in all its intricacy was a heavy burden. He'd never have wished it upon a seventeen-year-old girl ... but High King Daniel was dead, and that was that.

"You're stronger than you think," Julian replied, wondering if it was a lie. "I know you don't like any of that stuff, but I know that you can do it. Your father - your father told me once that most of the Kingship was gritting his teeth and bearing it, and I know you can do that."

Abruptly Mira turned and flung herself into his embrace, sobbing. He held her awkwardly - he had no daughters of his own, and only seldom saw his nieces in the House of Kane.

"Julian, I miss him so much!"

"So do I, dear one. So do I."

---

The morning dawned bright and clear, which Julian chose to consider an auspicious omen. With Mira ensconced in the clutches of her dressers, safe under the watchful eyes of her Throneguard Handmaiden, he was free to discuss arrangements with the heads of household staff.

"I have the route from Kalasinova International to the Palace watched by the Royal Security Division," the High Warden reported. "The Highguard is on full alert throughout the Palace, and Kalasinova PD has extra officers on the streets. Nothing's going to get through them today."

"Thank you." Julian had expected no less, with almost all of New Katagan's nobility, and many heads of foreign states, in the capital and the Palace. "And the High Queen? The new Handmaiden is rather young for the position, no?"

Roxana Dahlquist, the Throne Warden, bowed to him with the utmost ceremony. The manoeuvre was surely meant to highlight the paired blades and long pistols at her waist, the signs of the Throneguard's office - and her elegantly pointed ears, Dahlquist's guilty pride.

"I have every confidence in Handmaiden Quan," she replied, a swish of her tail indicating her annoyance that the question even had to be asked. "We will not fail Her Majesty."

"Lady Aiko agrees," added Aiko Martinsen, the First Companion, baring wickedly long canines in something like a grin. Centuries ago the House of Companions had been royal concubines, and even today their leader displayed an unequalled elegance of movement. The Handmaiden was the joint responsibility of the Throneguard and the Companions, and if both of them were sure of young Miss Quan's abilities, who was Julian to disagree?

"Very good, then," he replied. "And the preparations?"

"The meteorologists say the evening will stay clear," the Palace Seneschal told him, "So I've had the Upper Court prepared for the dancing. If that fails ... the New Ballroom will be ready as well. It would be a pity if we had to use it - the weather is singularly good today. A nice night for it."

"And the food will be ready in time," the Head Cook added. "Although some of these requirements ... does anyone know why the Margravine Kane won't touch anything but seafood? It's wreaking havok with my menus!"

Julian shrugged. "I'm afraid that Cousin Miralia has always been a little strange."

The Head Cook did a double-take, as if only now remembering Julian's ancestry, and blushed a bright red across her cheeks. Julian hastened to reassure her that his northern relatives were not so close associations as to cause offence.

"And I'm sure that even they can enjoy themselves tonight, if they work at it," he added, and grinned. "Everyone else will be, after all."

Except, perhaps, the High Queen herself ... Julian hoped she found some joy in the festival tonight. Her father had spoken once of gritting his teeth to bear the turning wheels of state ... and many times of the loneliness of the high throne. Daniel was only two months through the Spirit Gate and in the royal tombs, and the daughter he'd left was, her status aside, a young woman in desperate need of a friend.

---

OOC: Please send your heads of state, representatives, et cetera to my humble party! Everyone is welcome. There is a good thread here (http://forums2.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=354676) - the first post is pretty much the same rules I would like to apply to my thread. I don't mind if you don't play "nice" so long as you play "fair" and be sensible.

One thing to note is that New Katagan's population is 99.9% nekos (Homo felis or "catgirls") just like the one on the flag (http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/new_katagan.jpg). This is not to say they're all female of course, but they're not run-of-the-mill humans. Have fun!

OOC: Before I decide on how to enter, what Tech is this, Modern, Future, Fantasy. I'm joining of course, but the diffrence between a seemingly senile old man and a charming young lad will be the Tech.

OOC: Oh! Sorry, I should have made that clearer - it's more-or-less-modern tech. Some things, like anti-ballistic lasers, are a little more advanced, but they don't have hovertanks, Mars bases, or anything like that. Because this is the aristocracy, they tend to be a little old-fashioned (which is why, for instance, the Throneguard and Highguard carry swords, for example).

OOC: I usually play Future-Tech and Fantasy, but I still keep a location on Earth availible just in case.

Seemingly Senile old man it is then.

IC:
A yacht sailed into port.

"Ahoy there, We were out for a sail when we got a note, horribly translated of course, but still a note, about an invite to a Masquerade Ball. Anyways, the Lady Ri-an is presently otherwise occupied healing, restoring, something along those lines, and sent me in her stead. I have it with me if your intrested in seeing it." An elderly gentleman said over Radio. Something in his voice made him seem just a touch senile, possibly crazy, and insane. The pet giant octopus he kept on his yacht probably didn't help matters any. Still, he was trustworthy, if, rather Odd. For a Costume ball he seemed prematurly dressed for the part, resplendant of Captain Ahab from the story of Moby Dick. Though, maybe that was just how he normally dressed.

The young radio operator in the Kalasinova Harbourmaster's offices turned to her superior with an eloquent shrug, saying clearly by my Ancestors, what do you want me to do about this?

"Uh, welcome to Kalasinova Port and New Katagan, sir," the port officer said, taking the transmitter. "If you will tie up at the Eastern Marina docks, someone will be along to meet you shortly."

That someone was an unhappily delegated junior officer, sharply dressed in the port authority's duty uniform. Her almond eyes widened at the sight of the oddly dressed human - what is he doing here? - but then the Festival attracted all sorts.

"Sir, there are quite a lot of balls on tonight - it's Landfall, after all - but maybe if you showed me the invite I could help you find out where it is?"

Seeing the letter, she nearly dropped it - nobody in New Katagan would fail to recognise that seal - and spluttered, doing an almost comical double-take as she realised that this was not merely some crazy old foreigner but an important crazy old foreigner.

"Uh - uh - one moment, sir -"

She fished out her cellphone and frantically dialled the Harbourmaster's office. Within minutes a limousine was pulling up at the Marina, and a more senior official was climbing out.

Nothing could possibly fluster this woman; she moves with a sinuous elegance that speaks of long training, and seems to fill with her presence a much larger space than her petite figure occupies. She stepped up to the old man - allowing him into that volume of space - and bowed with exquisite grace.

"The Lady Olivia wishes you a good afternoon, my lord," she began (and of course her voice was as melodious and elegant as all the rest of her). "She is honoured to welcome you to New Katagan upon the Festival of Landfall. Would my lord be so kind as to grace her with his name?"

"They always speak like that," the young port officer whispered, looking more awestruck at this manifestation of the House of Companions than she had at the Chancellor's letter. "In the third person, I mean."

Princess Ameria Wasterin sat within her office in the massive Royal Palace, an miles large structure of beautiful architecture of Greeko-Roman with Arabic elements, the interior being richly Baroque in some areas. The Royal Palace was in the oasis of elegance that was the walled Royal District, which was an oasis of elegance with this architecture mandated, amidst the sea of skyscrapers beyond the walls that made up the megacity of the Aerionian capital of Astevane.

Her own office was one that showed more architecture, with huge white marble pillars encrusted with gold rising to the ceiling. The entire room was polished white marble, with a truly massive two story tall arched window behind her looking over the Royal District. The only Baroque decoration in this room was the massive mural hanging on one wall, illuminated by a hidden lamp. It was a mural depicting the First Elder Wasterin V'i, the namesake for the Royal House of Wasterin, the man who supposedly first united all of the many nomadic tribes of the Aerionian peoples peacefully together as one united national entity.

She sat silently, reviewing the data-read out on her desk's pop out data-terminal. She sighed, one of the Megacorporations was demanding that the Royal Representative be thrown off their Board of Directors and replaced. She did not have to worry about these internal affairs so much any more, as she was appointed Lady High Chancellor, one of the Great Officers of State, the chief diplomat for the Grand Kingdom over the Minister of Foreign Affairs even. She looked up as a Royal Courier dressed in the formal livery of the Royal Court entered, accompanied by an second secretary of the Office of the Royal Secretary.

The Royal Courier bowed, handing the letter to the second secretary "Your Royal Highness, the Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy of New Katagan has sent an invitation to attend some Festival of Landfall they have every year, but this one it says will be unique as it is the first presentation of their High Queen Mira Denikarev."

Princess Ameria cleared her throat, the name sounding queit like her own except for Ameria. She spoke, "Bring it here." The secretary bowed, taking the letter from the Royal Courier to approach the desk of Princess Ameria. He bowed, and handed her the invitation formally. She took it into her hands, reading it slowly.

"I see, give them my RSVP. Notify them of my regular traveling entourage, and the accomidations that will be necessary for us."

The secretary became wide eyed a moment, "You will be attending personally, you will not send an Royal Delegate Your Highness?"

Princess Ameria frowned at this line of questioning, "I will attend this event personally, as one of my first acts as Lady High Chancellor, and it is important we reach out to the monarchies of the world. Someone has to do something while my brother plays Buddhist monk"

The secretary looked embarrased for a moment at how the Princess talked of the Crown Prince whom was acting Head of State, and cleared his throat, "But the New Katagians are...Nekos..."

An eyebrow lifted up ever so slightly, "No matter, send my RSVP, and prepare my Luxury Jet."




TO: Julian Kane

Your Excellency,

Her Royal Highness, Princess Ameria Wasterin, Lady High Chancellor of the Grand Kingdom of Aerion will be attending the Festival of Landfall. She will be pleased to meet Her Majesty the High Queen.

Accompanying her will be her traveling retinue of her Personal Secretary, Private Physician, 5 Handmaidens, 4 Royal Footmen, three of her good friends, and 10 Royal Guard. Two of her friends each have 2 personal servants as well. She will also be accompanied by Ambassador Gefron Osiaun of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, whom if you so accept may become permanent Ambassador to your nation. Ambassador Gefron's retinue includes his wife, daughter, and personal butler as well as his Diplomatic Aide.

Her Royal Highness will arrive on her Takares Luxury Business jet in short time. A Takares Cargo Jet will also arrive earlier, carrying her personal small limousine Adinas Star Coach , 4 motorcycles for the Royal Guard, and 2 Ilon-Madro SUVs with the 10 Royal Guards.

She requests accomodations for herself, and her servants. She has expressed that she will rent a mansion or townhouse for her retinue if any are available.
She would also request the rental of a helicopter for quick travel within the city if necessary, but only if possible.

Sincerely,
Nerik Kasu
Second Secretary of the Office of the Royal Secretary

Dear Nerik Kasu,

The Chancellor looks forward to meeting Her Royal Highness Ameria Wasterin and Ambassador Osiaun, and I am certain that Her Majesty is likewise eager to meet her royal cousin.*

The House of Denikarev possesses several mansions in Kalasinova, any one of which could be leased to Her Royal Highness and her entourage for a minimal fee, but alternatively we would be most pleased to accommodate Princess Wasterin within the Maple Palace.

Unfortunately helicopter access is minimal within Kalasinova, and while it is in no way illegal, it is unlikely to be practical. Our road system is, however, modern and efficient, and Her Royal Highness should have no trouble in making her way by limousine.

Sincerely,
Dorian Mercer
Aide to the Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

OOC: European royalty used to refer to each other as "cousin" - mostly because they were, but later because it had become custom. I use it in the latter sense here.

Mr. Mercer,

The Chief Handmaiden of Her Royal Higness expressed interest that Her Highness would like to have her friends, the Ambassador, and their retinues accomodated in an mansion rented for such a fee.

As was said, a cargo plane will be arriving very soon bearing Her Royal Highness's private vehicles, as well as a gift for Her Majesty. Five Royal Guards will be arriving, including Royal Captain Daerin, Captain of Her Royal Highness's guard unit. He will coordinate any necessary security with your guard for the rented mansion, and her chambers at the Maple Palace. Her Royal Highness will travel by her own limousine, an secure Adinas Star Coach if this is acceptable. I imagine several support servants, such as her personal chaffeur, were left off the list though will also be arriving with the cargo plane.

I do hope this is not too much of a strain, but as you know when Royalty travel they do not travel light.

Yours sincerely,

Sincerely,
Nerik Kasu
Second Secretary of the Office of the Royal Secretary

Mr. Kasu,

Please accept my apologies for the misunderstanding - any fault is surely my own. We will be happy to lease a mansion to the Ambassador and the friends of Her Royal Highness, and to accommodate Her Royal Highness in the Maple Palace. I assure you that I am well acquaintanced with the logistics of royalty, and shall be on hand personally to discuss the details with Captain Daerin.

Sincerely,
Dorian Mercer
Aide to the Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

---

Waiting at the end of the access corridor as the Aerionian party disembarked, Dorian Mercer surely looked like most other career bureaucrats the world over despite his catlike ears and tail - a short, dapper man in a dark grey suit, with a dusting of white beginning to appear in his black hair.

When the first of the foreigners appeared he slipped his PDA into a pocket, gifting them with a polite smile.

"Good afternoon, sirs, and welcome to New Katagan," he said. "Dorian Mercer, Aide to Chancellor Kane, at your service."

"The Lady Olivia wishes you a good afternoon, my lord," she began (and of course her voice was as melodious and elegant as all the rest of her). "She is honoured to welcome you to New Katagan upon the Festival of Landfall. Would my lord be so kind as to grace her with his name?"

"They always speak like that," the young port officer whispered, looking more awestruck at this manifestation of the House of Companions than she had at the Chancellor's letter. "In the third person, I mean."

"Karaka, I came from the Flying Continent. I don't expect anyone to have ever seen it of course, we keep it hidden. Most folks couldn't handle the awe inspiring sight of a flying continent. I hope your afternoon is equally impressive. Forgive my old sailor's outfit, But a Tux would probably get ruined in the salty air. That's alright though." Karaka said.
He had a small case with him, for his real costume.

His pet octopus slapped a tenticle over the side, and raised its head up. Its body was Dark Grey.

"Bob! get back in your tank of water." Karaka said.

The octopus stared at him.

"Why I want you to watch it of course." Karaka said.

Though it was more than likely a trick of the wind and Bob's tenticle sliding back over the railing, it really seemed like Bob the Octopus called Karaka a Moron.

"I'll remember that!" Karaka shouted as he tied up the Yacht.

"Alright, I'm ready to go." Karaka said.

OOC: must it be the head of state, or could it be someone fairly prominent in our nation? If it can be off the later, this spot is officialy reserved for a post.

OOC: must it be the head of state, or could it be someone fairly prominent in our nation? If it can be off the later, this spot is officialy reserved for a post.

OOC: My guest is not head of state, and was accepted, if that helps.

OOC: My guest is not a Head of State, she is a Royal Princess and sister of the HOS Crown Prince Damoen Wasterin. She is the chief diplomatic officer (Lady High Chancellor) of the Kingdom. So that should be fine.

The Takares Cargo Plane landed, it did not look much different than any other large cargo plane capable of carrying vehicles except in the engine area where the jet engines looked quiet different. They appeared advanced, and were able to move in several directions. This allowed the Takares Cargo Plane to surprisingly perform a VTOL (Vertical Landing and Take Off).

Captain Daerin walked in front of two Royal Guards accompanying him, leaving 3 at the plane. Captain Daerin was an African-Aerionian, an tall muscular man in the elegant burgundy uniform of the Royal Guard. One of the Princess's Handmaidens accompanied him. She was a lovely Eastern Aerionian in her thirties, with the Easterion Aerionian features that made her look a mixture of Native American and Arabic though with striking green eyes. She was there to help with the arrangements as well. She was dressed very elegantly herself. She cleared her throat and spoke, "I am Shashin, Her Royal Highness Prince Ameria Wasterins' Chief Handmaiden, and am here to help arrange Her Royal Highness's stay. We have several things to unload from the cargo plane, so first I would like to go take a look at the mansion then we will arrange the guards to drive the vehicles to the mansion."

The Captain spoke, "We will need to know your cellular frequencies in order to appropriately tune some of our communications devices." (Though they had satellite phones and secure radios)

The Captain spoke in a low voice to the official, "We did have one element of security we did not mention, if so allowed plainsclothes Royal Guard will be inspecting around and help with security. These were not listed, but account for approximately 5 more Royal Guards. They will enter the country under assumed identity, but we will send an list of their names and pictures to one of your higher authorities who deals with such a thing. Their identities are considered classified information." (In actuality three of these will be RIA Royal Intelligence Agents but are there mostly for more advanced security procedures and as specialists to protect the Princess)

The Chief Handmaiden spoke once again, "We hope to have the mansion and Her Royal Highness's chambers at the Maple Palace prepared within a day, she will be arriving shortly."

The harsh, single cracks of handgun fire permiated the outdoor shooting range, the stacato of fire a symphony in .357 SIG. Each weapon was the same, a customized Sig Sauer P226 chambered in .357 SIG, made specifically for the shooters. The Reflex edition 226 was similar to the Blackwater edition, but it would not be made available for public purchase. Match grade barrels and triggers sent a special hand load .357 SIG Hollowpoint screaming down range, aimed with SIGLITE sights. Each weapon cost a small sum for the company, a sum well worth it in the opinion of each operator.

Reflex International was the largest of the numerous Imitoran PMC/PSC groups, having well over two hundred thousand employees that staffed the operations devision alone. That didn't include the clerks, lawyers, PR specialists, the accountants, or any other non revenue generating employee. It also didn't include the count of the employees from Reflex Air, Reflex Marine, Hedgehog Security, The Pro Shop, Personell Security Insurance, or Evolution Logistics. To say Reflex International was a large company would be comming close to an understatement.

The shooters at the range were not part of any side companies, nor were they civilians that had applied for one of the many open public courses offered by Reflex. Many of them were former Imitoran Special Forces, trained killers who now shot for the highest bidder. And they shot well. At 50 yards, they were shooting average two inch groups with their pistols, and the day at the range had just started. Wickwire had wanted an even smaller, more dedicated force than the large scale units offered by Reflex, and soon, Reflex Omega would be trained to his liking, and the PMC would offer direct action special operations capablities to the rest of the world. At a reasonable fee, of course.

However, unlike many CEOs and Presidents who spent their days in an office, letting the grunts tackle the daily operations of most companies, Jerrick Wickwire, a twenty six year veteran of Imitora's 1st Special Operations Group, Republic of Imitora Army, stood at the range. His own weapon, a heavily customized Sig P226 X-Five match barked off its own rounds. The .40S&W rounds ripped down the long range, tearing open the paper target fifty yards away, keeping the tight groups in under an inch. Unlike the other shooters, he wasn't wearing cargos and a t-shirt under his load vest, but a pair of well pressed khaki pants and a company polo. He emptied the last round from his magazine, and ejected the mettal bullet container, slamming home a new one. An aide off to the side took this moment to speak up.

"Uh Sir, you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah," Jerrick said, snapping off a double tap, two more holes appearing fifty yards away. "What are our plans for the rest of the week? Any big meetings?" Another double tap.

"No sir, not by my books. It looks like time off."

"Good." He holstered the weapon, and pulled the New Kataganian comuniqué from a pocket on his LBV. He handed it to the aide, and drew the weapon again. "Is Rydell going?"

"No sir, don't believe so. The First Speaker is down with the flu, and hasn't registered an ambasador to go. May I ask why."

Wickwire snapped off another double tap, and holstered the pistol. He turned to face the aide. "I wanna go. Need to get outa country for a bit, could use a breather. And we are going public soon, as soon as they are ready. Could be good for relations."

He spun on his heel, yanking the Sig from his holster, and sent of a single round, hitting the target dead on in the head region. "You still here?" Wickwire ran his company like the Imitoran military, on a tight, controlled basis. "Get to it Jacob. Most ricky fucking tic."

"Yessir," the former Marine stated. He had once been an aide to an IMC General and making seventy thousand a year. He now made over two hundred thousand Imitoran Credits a year, had great insurance coverage including dental, and five weeks of paid vacation a year.
__

Miss Julian Kane
Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

Miss Kane,

I represent Mr. Jerrick Wickwire, CEO and President of Reflex International. Mr. Wickwire recieved the invitation to your ball, and would like to make reservation and notation that he will be in attendance. He hopes that his attendance will be allowed, and looks forward to meeting you and the High Queen at her presentation. He will be landing at $airport$ at $whenever$, traveling by business jet, a Reflex Air Gulfstream V. I hope you find this acceptable.

Respectfully

Jacob Singer
Executive Assistant
Reflex International
__
The Reflex Air Gulfstream slid through the inky blue sky as it came in for approach. It had been cleared earlier, and Wickwire leaned back in his chair, contemplating recent company reports. However, he had made sure to leave his numerous cell phones, PDAs, and other undeeded toys back at home, fully hoping to treat this as a vacation, not a business trip, and relax a bit.

His suit was well tailored, but nothing special, hiding a holster far back on his hip. In a suit bag, he had a full tux, with a vest and long tie for the actuall ball. He was hardly jolted by the landing, and grabbed his bag, making his way to the front of the Gulfstream before it had even finished taxiing. The door was opening as the biz jet rolled to a stop, and Wickwire made his way quickly off the plane, hoping to see a delegate or someone sent to meet him.

Coricas, Cookesland-The President read the Letter from New Katagan that had been addressed to him. He really liked going to these things, because traveling was one of his more well known pasttimes. But, far too much had been going on in the nation for him to just leave now. "I think i'll ask Steve to go in my place!" he thought to himself.



Official Diplomatic Communique
http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w107/Cookesland/250px-USSeal.png
Dear, Mr. Kane

I myself am not able to come to the masquerade due to some unexpected occurences greatly affecting our nation. However, i would love to send my Secretary of State, Mr. Steven Andolor, to represent Cookesland at this gala. I must ask that he will be accompanied by his privet guards at all times though. We anxiously await your response.

Sincerly Yours,

*Smudged Signature*
President of Cookesland
"Senatus Populusque Chelseiana"

Chancellor Rhinehart read the letter from New katagan concerning a masquerade and banquet. It was an excellent way for him to get to know leaders and officals from around the world. After only being in office for a few months, the ambitious and charasmatic leader was looking for a venue to make an appearence. He wrote an offical response. Within this letter was the list of those that would be attend.
Chancellor Gunther Rhinehart
Tanya Rhinehart
Grand Marshall Samara
Several aides and security guards whose names are not mentioned

Aris Dinwall paced back and forth in the small library of the Presidential Palace, his parents seated in the comfortable if well worn leather chairs watching him.
His Father was red in the face whereas his Mother was pale to the point of being palid, both signs that their tempers were almost stretched to the limits.

"But why do I have to go?"

The paper he held showed signs that at some point it had been screwed into a tight ball, then straightened out again.

Sharid drummed his fingers on the table and gazed at his wayward son.
Twenty seven years old, unmarried and showing no signs of wanting to take up the reigns of power which Sharid himself had such a tentative grasp of.

"Do we need to go through it all again?
King Drack has no heir.
I want you to go to this....this New Katagan....to the Landfall Festival...attend the Ball.
You never know, the new High Queen might be a personable young woman.
Would it hurt you to find out?
Do something to help your parents for once, you have grown so selfish lately Aris, your Mother despairs of you."

"But Father, what good would it do?
If King Drack wanted me to be his heir, surely it matters not a jot if I am married or not, and the Queen of New Katagan might not even like me...or she might be fat and ugly......"

Sharids wife stood and walked slowly to her beloved son, her only child.
He was very tall, about six feet six and had a thick shock of blonde hair, and in her eyes at least, was the most handsome man in the country.
She put her arm around his shoulder.

"Please my love, just go for my sake.
You never know, you might be just made for each other.
King Drack is becoming very suspicious of your Father....he might take the Presidency away from him at any time, then you know where that leaves us!"

Aris re-read the invitation once more and sighed.

"Very well then.
Send the reply that I shall be going. I'll take Vardon with me."

He kissed his Mother on the cheek and stalked from the library...he always found it stifled him in there, and when his Father was in one of those moods.....

He made his way to the stables, where his best friend was waiting for him.
The two of them mounted the two stallions and galloped out into the heat of the day.

"I told them you would come with me....we should be leaving soon."

The two friends made their way into the local public house, and after tethering the horses made their way into the cool bar.

"Two pints of your best please Annie...bring them over to us will you?"

"So your Father wants you to get to know this new Queen then?
What do you think of the idea?"

Aris downed half his beer before replying.

"Well, I like the idea of the ball...we might meet some girls there, but I don't want to have to marry someone just so that my Fathers position is guaranteed.
It's not as though Pats Atoll is even a rich Island any longer, and I would rather marry someone I love.
Still...we shall see."

The next day, with just two suitcases each, Aris and Vardon found themselves at the main airport in New Katagan waiting for a representative from the chancellors office to meet them.

Lady Olivia smiled prettily. "She is sure that your lordship is correct - but all the same, she would like to see your flying continent someday. If you will follow her, we shall go to the Maple Palace. It does not fly, but we Katagani are proud of it."

The limousine (with Karaka and Lady Olivia on board) made its way to the cliffs which rose sheer from the southern end of the harbour, zig-zagging its way up on a road cut into the rock. From this height one could see the harbour and Kalasinova laid out below - and, in the other direction, the lowest level of the Palace, emerging from the cliffs.

Then they were at the top of the cliff, with the Maple Palace before them. Its lower levels rose solid and imposing, as if they were extensions of the cliffs themselves, only to be topped by a succession of airy pavilions and pagodas over which the gentle slopes of the red roofs seemed almost to float in midair.

As Lady Olivia emerged a servant approached, and they conducted a short, hushed conversation - doubtless some detail of the arrangements. She nodded, and turned to Karaka.

"Lady Olivia will show you to the rooms that have been set aside for you, if you wish it, Lord Karaka. She hopes that our Palace compares favourably to your homeland?"

---

"Certainly, miss Shashin," Dorian replied, "I have organised transport to the mansion, so we can be on our way shortly. Ah - of course, Captain. I do not know such things personally, but I'm sure that I can find out for you.

"I see - that will be fine, although I must point out that the security of the Maple Palace itself is the responsibility of the Highguard, and unless registered as Her Royal Highness' bodyguards or guests, they would not be permitted to enter there. There are no such restrictions for the city itself, of course, although our police forces and security agencies have things well in hand there.

"I'm sure that we can have things organised in time for Princess Wasterin's arrival, miss Shashin. If you will follow me, I have a limousine waiting."

The mansion was a short drive from the airport, thanks in part to a newly completed ring road and in part to the closeness of its location - all told it was about halfway between the airport and the Palace, and an equal distance from the city centre.

"It is called the Ekaterina Palace," Dorian explained to Shashin, "After the Crown Princess Ekaterina, whom it was built for. I am sure that Princess Wasterin will find it acceptable."

The mansion lived up to its name in every respect - an extensive building laid out to perfectly accentuate the qualities of the hills and the landscaped gardens surrounding it, built in the traditional Katagani style with a heavy stone lower storey creating a platform for a series of lofty, airy levels which rose into the heavens as if weightless.

Inside the mansion the décor was subtle and minimalist, dark wood panelling overlaid with sumptuous carpets and decorative hangings - almost Japanese in aesthetic - strategically placed to best effect.

"Damascus Seel is seneschal of this Palace," Dorian said, introducing an older man. "I shall leave you in his capable hands, miss Shashin - he will be able to help you organise the Palace to the Princess' liking."

Seel must have been something of a gentleman rake in his youth, some fifty years ago; now he bowed flamboyantly to the Chief Handmaiden, a glitter in his eye.

"I am at your service, my lady," he said, "Just as this Palace is at Her Royal Highnesses'. It is always pleasant to accommodate foreign royalty."

---

Mr. Singer,

Thank you for your communiqué. Mr. Wickwire is most welcome to attend the event, and we welcome the presence of such a successful business magnate as himself. As manager of Her Majesty's investments and royal corporations, Chancellor Kane may be particularly interested in meeting with Mr. Wickwire, and I shall be sure to note his presence to the Chancellor.

I must respectfully point out, however - to avoid any further embarrassment to Mr. Wickwire or yourself - that Chancellor Kane is male, and thus the correct term of adress is mister Kane, informally, and Lord or Chancellor Kane formally.

Sincerely,

Dorian Mercer
Aide to the Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

---

Waiting for Wickwire was a tall, elegant neko (tall for a neko, that is, at five foot six) in an exquisite, figure-hugging knee-length robe of dark red silk. Her tail describes sinuous arcs in the air behind her as she steps forward to greet him.

"Mr Wickwire?" she asks, bowing formally. "Lady Ingrid is pleased to meet you, and hopes that you shall enjoy your stay in New Katagan. If you will follow her, we may go to the Maple Palace, where rooms have been set aside for you."

---

Dear Mr. President,

I am happy to extend our hospitality to Mr. Andolor at the Festival of Landfall. He and his family will be made most welcome by New Katagan.

Mr. Andolor's bodyguards will be permitted to attend also, although I assure you that they are not strictly necessary - no harm shall befall Mr. Andolor in our care.

Sincerely,

Julian Kane
Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

---

Chancellor Rhinehart,

I am most pleased to be able to welcome you, your wife, and the Grand Marshall to New Katagan. We look forward to your attendance, and the Maple Palace shall extend to you every hospitality.

Sincerely,

Julian Kane
Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

---

Aris and Vardon were met by yet another member of the House of Companions, a curvaceous young catgirl whose neck-length hair was artfully tousled. She bowed as was proper, introducing herself as the Lady Amelia.

"Lady Amelia will show you to the Maple Palace, if you wish it," she adds.

OOC: I woke up this morning and found so many new people in my thread! It is good to have you all aboard. A note, in case anyone's missed it - the Masquerade is a masked ball, where everyone is costumed - while a tuxedo is certainly suitable attire for the dinner, it would be unusual at the ball. Have fun coming up with something from legend, history, mythology et cetera to appear as!

Lady Olivia smiled prettily. "She is sure that your lordship is correct - but all the same, she would like to see your flying continent someday. If you will follow her, we shall go to the Maple Palace. It does not fly, but we Katagani are proud of it."

The limousine (with Karaka and Lady Olivia on board) made its way to the cliffs which rose sheer from the southern end of the harbour, zig-zagging its way up on a road cut into the rock. From this height one could see the harbour and Kalasinova laid out below - and, in the other direction, the lowest level of the Palace, emerging from the cliffs.

Then they were at the top of the cliff, with the Maple Palace before them. Its lower levels rose solid and imposing, as if they were extensions of the cliffs themselves, only to be topped by a succession of airy pavilions and pagodas over which the gentle slopes of the red roofs seemed almost to float in midair.

As Lady Olivia emerged a servant approached, and they conducted a short, hushed conversation - doubtless some detail of the arrangements. She nodded, and turned to Karaka.

"Lady Olivia will show you to the rooms that have been set aside for you, if you wish it, Lord Karaka. She hopes that our Palace compares favourably to your homeland?"

"I'm sure you would enjoy the Continent, maybe after Landfall is over, you can return with me. And the Palace is Marvelous. someday, I hope to share with you, The Grand Coral Palace of Ri-an. As for Rooms, how many are you giving me? you make it sound as if I have half the palace to myself. Surely I'm mistaken. A room and private bath at the very least." Karaka said.

OOC: That's the reasoning behind my Character. As a semingly senile Old man, I can use him to talk about my FT/Fantasy Nation, and those who don't really want to know more, or do anything FT or fantasy based can just shrug it off as the ravings of a Senile old Fool due for retirement. Those who don't mind a bit less realisim, can see his words for what they are.

Wickwire stepped from the plane towards the neko, seemingly nonpulsed about it. There were very few neko in Imitora, he himself had only dealt with three in his life, all of them as mercenaries, but they hadn't bothered him. In fact, they had turned out to be excellent warriors, and had done their jobs perfectly. He smiled, holding the duffle with extra clothes and costume in hir right hand, his left holding the tuxedo suit bag over his shoulder. He smiled as he stepped forward, knowing almost subconciously that she was speaking in the third person.

"Pleasure to meet you, Lady Ingrid. As you already know, I'm Jerrick Wickwire, I'm glad your High Queen found my attendance acceptable." He fought the urge to eye her over. One thing he had learned in dealing with nekos is that the females were often deeply attractive. There was something about cats in general with the Imitorans, and a person cat made it better. "Please, lead the way."

His smile was genuine and sincere, he was glad to finally have a break from work. Paper work and running a company was ten times harder when the company was a private military. He even started to question his need to carry on the trip, feeling overly safe in this new nation. However, the Sig, far back on his hip, rocked forward with the infamous 'FBI tilt', offered a small feeling of safety that not even the so far peaceful nation could offer.

"Good morning Sir, here is your mail," the butler said to His Majesty as he did every morning

"More mail, can't these people realise that diplomatic letters should be directed to the Minister of Foreign Affairs - yikes, these people never learn," the Emperor commented while sorting out through what seemed to be a hundred letters.

"If they have made it this far, I suppose they are worth reading," and a letter caught his attention with a New Katagan postmark.

To Emperor George A. Helios

It is my pleasure to invite you to New Katagan's annual Festival of Landfall, in which we celebrate the successful crossing of the Last Fleet to New Katagan from our old home. The Festival of Landfall is traditionally a time of much revelry, and this year - the five hundred and seventeenth anniversary of the Landfall - the House of Denikarev is throwing open the doors of the Maple Palace to international heads of state such as yourself.

The Festival of Landfall will be celebrated with a formal dinner and masquerade ball, attended by the greatest nobility of the Federal Monarchy and - it is my sincere hope - by you and your family as well.

This occasion is also the first formal presentation of Mira Denikarev as High Queen of New Katagan, a momentous occasion for our nation. Her Majesty would be most honoured by your attendance.

Sincerely,

Julian Kane
Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

"It sounds interesting, Mr. Yates, in fact, I cannot recall the last time we had a masquerade here in this palace"

"Sir, the last time was in 1965 - when your father was the Emperor, that was unforunately a disaster as that night, the Prime Minister got drunk and was forced to resign a few weeks later; I remember your father said never again, and that was the end of that"

"Well, Mr. Yates, get my official tram ready. I suppose that since Parliament is in recess, we can see how many of the Cabinet Ministers and other high ranking people would find such an event interesting."

---------------------------------------------------
Tram #768 dropped His Majesty off in front of Parliament, as it did rather often. Parliament stood as the beautiful Neo-Gothic jewel that it was, and it was reasonably quiet - Parliament was not due back in session again until early March. His Majesty walked down the corridors and sought the interest of people he felt would aid the Empire if taken on this foreign adventure. Within an hour, he had the keen interest of many people; however, he did know that only a few would no doubt make it.

Back at the Ptolemais Palace, His Majesty prepared a letter to send through to New Katagan

Dear Chancellor,

We would be most interested in attending your masquerade ball. We do have a request - how large can our party be; we have spoken to a couple of our high ranking officials and they are interested in visiting New Katagan to improve the relationship of the Empire and New Katagan.

We hope for a swift reply, and hope that the representatives of our Empire will be able to celebrate with your nation on the anniversary of the landfall in 1490.

Yours Sincerely

George A. Helios
Emperor of Alexandrian Ptolemais, King of West Island, Duke of Ptolemais and Alexandria, Defender of the Faith &c.

With the ink dry and the stamps placed, His Majesty waited for a reply and prepared his costume; "Hmmm, should I dress as King Ptolemy, or go as John Campbell, our founder?"

Katagan hadn’t had the bad taste to send an invitation to both the revolutionary republic in Iansisle and its royalist government-in-exile, of course, but that hadn’t stopped the Princess-Regent from obtaining one. That it was not technically addressed to her made little difference to Jessica; they were sent to all heads of state, and -- as far as she was concerned -- her nephew the infant-King was the head of state, both legally and popularly. In fact, it was quite possible that the revolutionary government had not even received an invitation (the image of Mr Bradsworth’s hypothetically crestfallen face gave her a chuckle). Katagan seemed reasonably royalist, and the entire Jameston government were regicides, after all.

That Katagan’s population was primarily non-human provided some small discomfort for Jessica, whose entire upbringing had been bathed in ideas of xenophobia and racism. However, as the promised reactionary crusade against the Gull Flag Republic continued to fail to materialize, she found herself attaching less importance to such outdated biases than she did to ideological similarities.

It would never do for Jessica to go herself, of course. She had very much pride, of course, but nonetheless kept appraised of her shortcomings. She needed someone with a quicker wit than herself, and someone younger and more attractive. The attendee would not be a pleasure-seeker, but rather a diplomat trying to incite war against the usurping republic. It was settled then: it would have to be the clever Princess Alice, her sister. Alice was twelve years her junior and, although Jessica hated to admit it, superior in the arts of verbal sparring. The two sisters had their differences, which often degraded into a most unbecoming argument, but those mostly revolved around how to raise their nephew. Both had an equal amount of love (perhaps Alice even more) for their brother, who died a martyr (or traitor, depending on whom one asks) on the gallows in Gull Flag Square, and an equal amount of hate for the regicidal revolutionary government which had executed him.

Jessica composed a quick missive informing Katagan of their acceptance (perhaps surprising some foreign office clerk who hadn’t sent them an invitation) and began to make arrangements for her sister’s journey. She would send the Duke of Dunerbridge as her escort. Jessica knew that Alice and the dashing young Lord Evanpass had nothing but eyes for one another; all the more reason to separate them before a scandal took place. Dunerbridge, on the other hand, was a womanizing fop, but he’d never dare try to take advantage of the aunt of the King. More than likely, within ten minutes of arriving, Dunerbridge would be out chasing wellbred young ladies from all over the world, leaving Alice unhindered in her work.

((ooc: If you’d rather not have a representative of both the Republic and the royalists at the party, I completely understand. I just role played the royals first, as they are the more likely to jump at this sort of thing.))

The Queens private chambers at the Otrera palace, The Amazonian Empire,

As lady Sharra entered the queens’ private chambers the queen was enjoying her breakfast in bed.

Your majesty, a letter has arrived from the ruling house of New Katagan.

The queen turned as her aide and lover addressed her and with a playful scowl,

Sharra my love we are in private, do I have to remind you to call me Cynthia when we are in private again.

Sharra blushed as she handed the letter to the queen.

I’m sorry Cynthia, that won’t be necessary.

As the queen took the letter she gently kissed Sharra’s hand, then opening the letter she read,

To Her Most Royal Highness Queen Cynthia of the Amazonian Empire,

It is my pleasure to invite you to New Katagan's annual Festival of Landfall, in which we celebrate the successful crossing of the Last Fleet to New Katagan from our old home. The Festival of Landfall is traditionally a time of much revelry, and this year - the five hundred and seventeenth anniversary of the Landfall - the House of Denikarev is throwing open the doors of the Maple Palace to international heads of state such as yourself.

The Festival of Landfall will be celebrated with a formal dinner and masquerade ball, attended by the greatest nobility of the Federal Monarchy and - it is my sincere hope - by you and your family as well.

This occasion is also the first formal presentation of Mira Denikarev as High Queen of New Katagan, a momentous occasion for our nation. Her Majesty would be most honoured by your attendance at $time on $date.

Sincerely,

Julian Kane
Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

Sharra, please send a reply to Mr. Kane stating that we would be honored to attend the landfall festival and have the royal jet readied, then pack your bags as you’ll be coming with me. Oh I shall only require 2 members of the royal guard to attend me; Kahtia and Evelyn will do nicely.

Certainly Cynthia


To Julian Kane, Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy of New Katagan,

Her Most Royal Majesty Queen Cynthia of the Amazonian Empire would be honored to attend the landfall festival and looks forward to meeting her New Katagan cousin.

Traveling with her royal majesty shall be myself and two of her royal guard.

We shall be arriving in short order.

Sincerely,


Lady Sharra Beltane
Aide to HMRM Queen Cynthia of the Amazonian Empire

Sovereigness Siobhan Kelly gazed idly out the window of her sleek Gulfstream IV. Gaeltach was traditionally a humble and non-materialistic society, so the thought of traveling in a private jet did not sit well with her. However, it was necessary and accepted on the world stage, and at this point in her career had dwindled to a mere niggling at the back of her mind. How long had they been in the air? She had utterly lost track of time. Siobhan fingered the invitation, still wondering if the decision to attend was a wise one. Given all the turmoil within the borders these days, she had preferred somewhat of an isolationist stance. And the memory of her skirmish with their now-decimated northern neighbor left her with a bad taste for diplomacy. Still, her advisors had a point. She needed to get out and socialize amongst her political peers, if for no other reason than to broaden her perspective.

"Finn, come and sit."

Her traveling companion and bodyguard was pacing irritably about the cabin. She had wanted to bring Gael, but sometimes appearance was more important than ability - and Finn could never seem as fearsome as the Lady Gael. How appropriate that the event be a masquerade. Normally she would not have been able to bring a Guardian for personal protection, but in this case she could neatly sidestep any problems. Finn was tall and athletic in build, but not overly imposing. Piercing steel eyes gazed from beneath black hair, worn long and loose in the traditional way. But most impressive about the Guardians was a set of long, black-feathered wings. Their nails were often sharp and suitably used as claws, but those were more easily concealed. Most likely, the other guests would take his appearance for a costume, which suited the Sovereigness just fine. She smiled at him, more for her own reassurance than his.

Gaeltach's official reply had mentioned their time of arrival. As the pilot began final descent, Siobhan glanced to her watch. It seemed they would be setting down on schedule.

Aris and Vardon were met by yet another member of the House of Companions, a curvaceous young cat girl whose neck-length hair was artfully tousled. She bowed as was proper, introducing herself as the Lady Amelia.

"Lady Amelia will show you to the Maple Palace, if you wish it," she adds.


Aris bowed low to the Lady Amelia, and kissed her proffered hand.

"I am Aris Dinwall, son of Sharid, President to King Drack of Pats Atoll.
I am pleased to make your acquaintance.
My companion is Vardon Chase, son of Urquhart, Secretary to King Drack."

Aris cast an appreciative eye over the attractive young girl.
He had heard tell that the nekon of New Katagan were a beautiful race, but this was the first time he had ever met any of them.

"Thank you, I would be honoured to stay at the Maple Palace.
I apologize that I left in such a hurry, my Father overlooked the lodgings side of things.
Vardon's and my costumes for the ball are to be delivered by private messenger, when we have settled in I assume it will be in order for me to phone the costumier on directions for where to deliver it."

They boarded the waiting car and in next to no time the Maple Palace came into view.
Aris heard the sharp intake of breath which escaped Vardon's lips as the red roofed building made obvious the wealth of their hosts nation.
It made a sad contrast to the shabby, run down palace of their own elderly King.

The car came to a halt and the Lady Amelia handed the two of them over along with their luggage to a lesser minion who showed them to the suite they would be using for the length of their stay.

It became obvious that there were other guests staying in the Palace, judging by the bustle that was going on all around.

The suite the were shown into consisted of two bedrooms with bathrooms and dressing rooms leading from each and a central lounger area.

The leather loungers and deep pile carpets spoke of untold luxury that neither Aris nor Vardon had experienced in Pats Atoll.

"It seems my friend, that we have come to Paradise.
Let us clean up then choose our costumes before we are called to dine."

The trademark Azure, Yellow and White Cookeslandic Jet landed down from the gloamy sky and settled on to the tarmac. Out of the jet steppedm a young man and woman.

Steven sighed and streched his arms out and then looked over to his consort. "Lostelle", he said "this is going to be the perfect way to spend Valentine's Day" and then light kissed her on the cheek. He felt great and for once not to harried by guards. He had not brought more than 3 so he still felt sucure, but he was free.

"Lady Olivia is sad to say that she is bound to the duties of the Palace, and may leave it only on Palace duties ... but perhaps one day Her Majesty will send an embassy to the Flying Continent, and she may see the Grand Coral Palace then.

"You have been given the Second Aversano Suite, Lord Karaka," she continued as she lead him through the Palace, "Which she hopes will be to your liking - it is not so large as half the Palace! It was built for the envoys of South Aversano, after the schism in the Aversano March ... oh! Please forgive her, history is her speciality."

She opened the door onto the suite in question, revealing a wood-floored room strewn with rich carpets and lounges in the Roman style, the walls bearing hangings depicting sunwashed Mediterranean coasts - the landscapes of Aversano - and other oddities, such as the meter-wide shell and pincers of a giant crab. There were no windows, but here in the airy upper sections of the Palace the outer walls were composed of some odd fabric - with a papery texture, yet strong and impermeable to noise - which bathed the room in a diffuse late-afternoon glow.

"Your receiving room, my lord," Lady Olivia said, "And through here is your dining-room. The master bedroom" - with a bed quite possibly large enough to sleep an entire delegation - "And further along are the lesser bedrooms which would normally be given to junior envoys or guests. Your dressing-room, and your bathroom" - this latter featuring a tiled bath sunk into the floor, even larger than the palatial bed.

"Is my lord Karaka pleased?"

---

Lady Ingrid smiled back, revealing petite canines and pearly white teeth. "Lady Ingrid is certain Her Majesty could not possibly be disappointed by your attendance, my lord ... please, allow her to take your bags.

"Is it my lord's custom to go armed?" she asked, her voice betraying no censure, merely curiosity. "She hopes that Imitora is not so dangerous a land as to threaten your life."

They reached the waiting limousine, and sped off towards the Palace, passing off the ring road and through the fringe of suburbia onto a private road through a forest of maples - the forest which gave the Palace its name.

Passing a large building set back from the road - almost a palace in its own right - Lady Ingrid informed him that it was the House of Companions, where she had trained. It seemed almost airier and less substantial than the normal architecture of the Katagani rich, rising up around and through the forest, but it was soon past. Lady Ingrid did not look back.

After a while the road grew steeper, and the forest gave way to the formal gardens of the Palace - they had come upon it from the south, up the long slope which ended abruptly in the cliff above the harbour. The Palace straddled this terminus, with one face looking out over the forests and gentle coasts, and the other over the harbour and Kalasinova.

"You have been given the Gilmartin Suite, my lord," she said, leading him to it, "Which she hopes will be acceptable."

Much like the Second Aversano Suite, the Gilmartin Suite is composed of airy, atmospheric rooms decorated with carpets and wall hangings, although these walls also feature an array of antique firearms and bladed weapons, some of them quite exotic - evidently Gilmartin had been something of an adventurer and soldier of fortune, to judge by the trophies he'd amassed. Clearly someone in the offices of the Seneschal had thought the long-dead Landgrave's tastes would match those of this modern-day warrior-merchant.

---

Imperial Majesty,

Her Majesty and New Katagan would be honoured by your attendance at her Festival celebration. I would suggest that your party contain no more than twelve persons of rank for the ease of our housing them, although I am loath to turn anyone away from this celebration.*

Sincerely,

Julian Kane
Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

---

Lady Beltane,

Her Majesty will, likewise, be delighted to meet HMRH Queen Cynthia. She is most welcome to attend the Festival of Landfall, as are you and her guards. I look forward to your attendance.

Sincerely,

Dorian Mercer
Aide to the Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

---

Waiting for the Gaeltach delegation, of course, was an elegantly clad, blonde-haired neko from the House of Companions.

"My lady Sovereigness Kelly," she began, "My lord Finn, the Lady Fiona is most honoured to bid you a pleasant sojourn in New Katagan. Will you follow her to the Maple Palace? Rooms have been set aside for you there, and she trusts that you shall enjoy Katagani hospitality."

---

"My lord Secretary Andolor, my lady Lostelle? Please be welcome to New Katagan. The Lady Yvette is pleased to be your guide here in the Federal Monarchy."

The Companion before them might seem at first merely average in appearance - her chin is a little weak, her ears a little too rounded - but she bows and bestows upon them an angelic smile, and moves with a gentle grace to match it.

---

OOC: Imnsvale, you're more than welcome to send both the Royalist and Republican factions of your nation; I wasn't sure quite how to respond to your post, so you can assume they've been approved and go ahead with arrival at the airport or the Palace if you wish.

Pats Atoll, you seem to have the décor of your suite more or less worked out, so I shall leave you to it - there is plenty to do in the Palace before the dinner, you could talk to the other guests, or bother the servants, or go exploring if you so wish.

*A small and inconsequential note for Alexandrian Ptolemais; the Katagani date their years from the first New Year's Day before the Landfall of the Last Fleet, so in their calendar the year is 517 Anno Egressus. Not that it matters much.

Thank you all for participating - it's wonderful to have so much interest!

Steven and Lostelle met with Lady Yvette who told them she was to be their guide in New Katagan. The two of them noticed she was very pretty and were very impressed with her mannerism.

She then motion for them to follow her, so Steven asked one of the guards to help with their bags. He knew this was going to be a great festival.

"Lady Olivia is sad to say that she is bound to the duties of the Palace, and may leave it only on Palace duties ... but perhaps one day Her Majesty will send an embassy to the Flying Continent, and she may see the Grand Coral Palace then.

"You have been given the Second Aversano Suite, Lord Karaka," she continued as she lead him through the Palace, "Which she hopes will be to your liking - it is not so large as half the Palace! It was built for the envoys of South Aversano, after the schism in the Aversano March ... oh! Please forgive her, history is her speciality."

She opened the door onto the suite in question, revealing a wood-floored room strewn with rich carpets and lounges in the Roman style, the walls bearing hangings depicting sunwashed Mediterranean coasts - the landscapes of Aversano - and other oddities, such as the meter-wide shell and pincers of a giant crab. There were no windows, but here in the airy upper sections of the Palace the outer walls were composed of some odd fabric - with a papery texture, yet strong and impermeable to noise - which bathed the room in a diffuse late-afternoon glow.

"Your receiving room, my lord," Lady Olivia said, "And through here is your dining-room. The master bedroom" - with a bed quite possibly large enough to sleep an entire delegation - "And further along are the lesser bedrooms which would normally be given to junior envoys or guests. Your dressing-room, and your bathroom" - this latter featuring a tiled bath sunk into the floor, even larger than the palatial bed.

"Is my lord Karaka pleased?"

"I be a man of the sea my lass, probably why I'm here and not in the Space Fleets. This room be well to my liking indeed." he said.

"Well, I should get ready for the ball. Err, what time will that be?" he asked.

Waiting for the Gaeltach delegation, of course, was an elegantly clad, blonde-haired neko from the House of Companions.

"My lady Sovereigness Kelly," she began, "My lord Finn, the Lady Fiona is most honoured to bid you a pleasant sojourn in New Katagan. Will you follow her to the Maple Palace? Rooms have been set aside for you there, and she trusts that you shall enjoy Katagani hospitality."


Finn deplaned first, followed somewhat hesitantly by the Sovereigness on the narrow stair. A few other jets were parked along the ramp down the tarmac a bit, and looked by the size of some of them that it would be a decently full house. Siobhan was thoroughly surprized by the elegant creature before them, but had the good sense to retain her composure. Neither her nor Finn had seen anything quite like the Neko, although Finn was a great deal less phased by it.

"We are delighted to be here. Please, lead on."

Armed with the sincerest of smiles, she fell in step behind the neko with Finn at her side. Finn did a wonderful job of trying to look unconcerned, but though his head remained still, his eyes were everywhere. She touched his shoulder reassuringly. He was a wonderful Guardian, but still young and prone to tension. Gael had been working with him on relaxing. She said it was easier to be aware of one's surroundings when calm, and Siobhan wholeheartedly agreed.

The journey to the palace was uneventful, and when they finally arrived at their rooms, they were left in peace. Siobhan found the whole prospect delightful. Finn was somewhat less than enthusiastic, but managed to keep it silently to himself.

"You could ease up a bit, lad.. I'm sure the security here isn't waiting to turn on everyone."

He looked at her sharply, shocked by the very idea and troubled by the new concern to keep in mind, but she only smiled at him and tried not to laugh.

"Tell you what, Finn me boy-o.. after we freshen up, let's wander a bit. Would that make you feel better?"

He nodded, a tiny grin injecting some life into his otherwise stony gaze.

OOC: Imnsvale, you're more than welcome to send both the Royalist and Republican factions of your nation; I wasn't sure quite how to respond to your post, so you can assume they've been approved and go ahead with arrival at the airport or the Palace if you wish.

((ooc: I hate to be prissy, and I certainly consider it an honor to be compared to Imnsvale, but I'm Iansisle. ;)

And I think I'm going to forgo the republicans attending. Too many characters to track. Also, if it's all right, I'm just going to assume that the entry into New Katagan went smoothly, with all the proper honors rendered to a member of an (exiled) royal house, and snap into someplace I could conceivably encounter some action.))

Alice took some delight in the distress she knew she was causing the Duke of Dunerbridge. During the long flight from the Valinor embassy in Knootoss, where the royal family held its court-in-exile, she had sat across from him, smiling but not speaking. The sweat was dripping from his brow and his small, dark eyes dashed from side to side, avoiding Alice's.

She had taken great delight in tormenting him thus. Lord Dunerbridge was something of an embarrassment to the government-in-exile, with one lurid affair following the other. However, were he to attempt anything with the Princess, sister of the Regent and aunt of the King, his social disgrace would be total. Despite the crown's need for talented, loyal men, Dunerbridge would be cast out of the court's circle. It was even possible that, cut adrift among the countries of the multiverse, he might even find himself repatriated to Iansisle. On the Shield, he could expect nothing more than the hangman's noose for his public role in the émigré community.

The gallows. Alice felt as if a chill wind blew over her at the very thought of them. They were so terribly vulgar; something for commoners, not aristocrats. And certainly not James. Her poor brother -- often misguided, but always well-meaning -- had deserved a better fate than a public execution. Alice had felt sympathy for the Revolutionaries -- she had had Mr Bradsworth to dinner at Dun Adien several times -- but that violent act had forever stained the Assembly's hands. Even after the sentencing, she could not believe that it would be allowed to take place.

Dunerbridge gingerly took her hand, helping her down the steps on a walk about the grounds after a brief refreshing, and the touch of his fingers helped snap Alice back to the present. New Katagan, or at least the port of entry, had passed her by during the daydream, and she was determined not to miss anything else. She let Dunerbridge hold on to her hand just long enough to keep that seed of doubt planted soundly in his brain, then took it back and looked about.

Is it my lord's custom to go armed? She hopes that Imitora is not so dangerous a land as to threaten your life.

Jerrick handed his bags over when asked, thanking Lady Ingrid. He chuckled at her comment, looking down at his weapon. "No, not dangerous at all. Its a force of habbit, really. Spend twenty six years in the military, and walking around unarmed is like walking around without my wallet, you just feel naked."

He followed her to the limmo, letting her step ahead. He took her in, a quick glance as she walked away, admiring her form. He snapped himself back into reality, and followed her into the limmo, taking his seat.

He admired the view on the drive in, it reminded him of the pine and maple forests of southern Imitora, where he had grown up. It seemed so long ago, his past, his childhood, before the military and Reflex. He hoped that this vacation would take his mind off such past incidents. When the car rolled to a stop, he stepped out, and looked around for a moment, taking it all in. "Nice," he said, under his breath.

You have been given the Gilmartin Suite, my lord, which she hopes will be acceptable.

Much like the Second Aversano Suite, the Gilmartin Suite is composed of airy, atmospheric rooms decorated with carpets and wall hangings, although these walls also feature an array of antique firearms and bladed weapons, some of them quite exotic - evidently Gilmartin had been something of an adventurer and soldier of fortune, to judge by the trophies he'd amassed. Clearly someone in the offices of the Seneschal had thought the long-dead Landgrave's tastes would match those of this modern-day warrior-merchant.

Wickwire took a quick look around the room, and nodded. "It's perfect," he said, looking around. "This Gilmartin looks like someone after my own heart. Question, though, what time should I be ready by?"

New Katagan Airport

Once the royal jet "The Arrow of Artemis" had come to a stop upon the tarmac, the forward door opened revealing a tall flame haired woman in a tailored suit and dark sunglasses.
After a quick look around she turns to someone inside the jet and continues down the stairs and takes position at the base of the stairs.
The next down the stairs a slender woman in mid forties dressed in an elegant if some what form fitting gown of royal blue, around her waist a slender belt with the coat of arms of the Amazonian Empire on its buckle.
Following close behind the queen a younger blonde haired woman in her early thirties dressed in a tailored business suite.
Finally a raven haired woman dressed much like the first exits the jet and remains at the top of the steps.

When the representative from the chancellors office approaches, the blonde steps forward and begins to address the delegate.

I am la............

At this the queen steps forward.

Sharra my dear put your eyes back into your head and close your mouth.
I apologize for my aide but she has never met a neko before now, I am Queen Cynthia and this is my aide and companion Lady Sharra.

Ekaterina Palace - New Katagan Guest House of Princess Ameria Wasterin's Entourage


The Chief Handmaiden was glad that Her Royal Highness had decided to rent an mansion this time for an event, and it was good to stay for once in a more simplistic styled mansion especially with the unique Japanese-like style that it seemed to be built in.

The Royal Palace, and the other Crown Estates back in the Grand Kingdom of Aerion were mostly in the historical upper class architecture of Aerion, Greeko-Roman with Arabic elements and Baroque interiors with some of the estates being completely Baroque style like those in France. There was one unique Palace she favored visiting with the Royal Princess in Aerion, the Devi Palace which was designed in the Mughal architectural style of India. However, that could be said to be mainly the only different one if you did not count the old medieval style castle they never visited.

The Chief Handmaiden had went over the plans for a total of three hours with Damascus Seel, the seneschal of Ekaterina Palace, and they began to put them into practice. The Chief Handmaiden had described the favorite foods and drinks of the Princess as well as her entourage. They had already brought the Princess's own traveling sheets, blankets, and bedding from Aerion which were of the highest thread count and comfort. The Princess even had her own silverware set in a case that was brought over.


Shasin, the Chief Handmaiden, was pleased with what they had accomplished in a short time, and now it was on to the Maple Palace to prepare the Princess's chambers there with her sheets etc.

Meanwhile, the Captain was busy securing the Ekaterina Palace, and preparing to travel with the Chief Handmaiden to secure the rooms at the Maple Palace. They were planning on using their own vehicles, the SUVs brought by the cargo plane. The Adinas Star Coach limousine, the limousine of the Princess was was already secured and guarded outside the Ekaterina Palace. Another Adinas Star Coach limousine had been brought as well.

Royal Palace, Astevane, Grand Kingdom of Aerion

In the megacity of Astevane, the Royal Palace sat within the Royal District, protected and walled by the district as well as its own walls. The Royal District was an oasis in a sea of thousands of skyscrapers, spanning 10 miles in every direction to include the Royal Palace, the Royal Park, various gardens, government buildings, hotels, high culture centers, and the exclusive expensive residences of Royal Government officials and the crem da le creme of Aerion's upper class. Here, land was over $1000 per square ft, the most expensive in the Grand Kingdom, and perhaps many nations. The architecture was all Greeko-Roman with Arabic elements, and Baroque interiors in many buildings.

The Royal Palace, a miles spanning structure sat at the center of the Royal District, part of it towering over the northern section of the Great Forum.

Inside the Royal Palace, in the Princess's chambers of the Royal Apartments, the Mistress of the Royal Wardrobe was busy scrambling her staff to quickly prepare the dresses, jewelry, and accessories the Princess had chosen for her trip. Even though the Princess had her own wardrobers and stylist, the Mistress of the Royal Wardrobe was assisting her as the Princess's brother the Crown Prince was away on his religious retreat. The Royal Wardrobe referred to the clothing and accessories of the Royal Family, but also the branch of the Royal Household with all of its various contractors and others.

A total of 8 formal gowns for the Masquerade would actually be packed, of varying colors and styles, so that the Princess could make her choice upon arriving in the country. The Mistress of the Royal Wardrobe had had to quickly find the best Mask Maker in the Grand Kingdom that they had used before, who was the masker for most of the most prestigious masquerades in Aerion. He designed a total of 5 new masques for the occasion, despite the Royal Wardrobe already having almost 100 for the Royal Family to choose from. These 5 news masques would officially make 100.

Other servants were preparing for the Princess's departure as well.

At the Royal Airport, used only by members of the Royal Family and the Royal Privy Council, mechanics were preparing her luxury jet (Like a Boeing Business Jet) and giving a full inspection for the morning flight out. A group of servants were also having to prepare her suite and galley on the jet.

Despite over 100 people working to prepare for her trip, Princess Ameria Wasterin herself was not so stressed. She had completed her daily duties of the Lady High Chancellor, delegating 70% of them to the Minister of Foreign Affairs as usual. She was the chief diplomatic officer, the face, not the hands. She was at the Private Royal Baths in the Royal Palace, receiving a facial and massage.....

“You know, this would be a most excellent opportunity to introduce the bambinos to a pleasant social gathering of dignitaries that they don’t know well enough to climb all over,” Nathi mused as she looked over the beautiful invitation. “True, they’re young, but they have specifically extended the invitation to families, unlike so many that are generally designed for adults only.”

“And safety,” Gianni asked carefully, one brow arching as he glanced over at the lady of the house. “Do you think visiting an unknown nation like this with the little ones would be prudent?”

“I can’t keep them sheltered forever, Gianni – as much as I’d like to. However in this instance, given the scope of the event, I highly doubt that security would be lax. And we have our own people to ensure nothing untoward happens. Between them, and myself, and the host’s efforts, I believe it would be safe enough,” she replied thoughtfully, still looking over the invitation. “How often do you actually ever hear of bad things happening at such events, I ask you? Il dio, Gianni – I’ve been to several now where I was surrounded by those who are technically enemies, and all was well.”

“But … Lavenrunz,” he couldn’t help but mention, looking none to pleased.

“That was Lavenrunz, Gianni. And we have learned things since then, have we not?” Nathicana said archly, fixing him with a determined stare.

“It’s my job to point out possible problems, m’lady,” he said, sighing and shrugging slightly. “Besides the fact that I would hate for anything to happen to you or those little monsters.” This last delivered with a half grin. “They do grow on one, don’t they?”

Nathi smiled in spite of herself, then reached for her usual glass of ice water, sipping slowly. “Mmmhmm. That they do. I appreciate all your help with them, Gianni. I don’t know how I’d manage without you, and the others. I know it wasn’t in the job description when first I hired you, but …”

“But it’s been a pleasurable challenge all the same,” he replied with a genuine smile that turned mischievous as he turned his attention back to his datapad. “The pay isn’t half bad either.”

“Bah,” she said, setting her glass aside and grinning. “So what do you think? Would you like to go?”

This took him by surprise, and he was quick to laugh it off. “Me? Since when do I accompany you on trips? I manage your household and help mind the children. I don’t jet around the international scene hobnobbing with the rich and famous.”

“Well, it won’t all be fun and games,” she said, running a fingertip along the rim of her glass. “I do need someone to help with the children after all. And you can’t deny they do respect you, Gianni. I figure between the two of us, we can manage well enough for the dinner, and for later after their bed time, you’d be free to enjoy yourself … if you want to of course. I’ll be sure to have the proper staff on hand so you won’t be overworked. They’re having a masquerade, after all. Could be fun.”

Gianni pondered quietly for a moment, then grinned sheepishly. “So long as you promise me we aren’t going to get our asses shot off – and that you’ll bring some of the Delacourt, you’ve got a deal.”

To Julian Kane, Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy:

We would be honored to attend your Festival, and thank you for your gracious invitation. Please pass on our congratulations and thanks to Her Majesty on our behalf – we hope to be able to deliver them in person as well when we attend.

Our party at present expects to be comprised of myself, my two children Naiya and Marcus, my personal aide Gianni Cafagna, and a security detail of twelve. If you would be so kind as to let us know what your laws and expectations are concerning visiting dignitaries and what weapons or arms are allowed for personal use and said security personnel, we would be most appreciative.

No special arrangements need be made, though if rooms are available on site, or near to the place where the masquerade will be taking place, we would very much appreciate the opportunity to make reservations so that the children can be put to bed at a reasonable time. A group of four to six rooms as close together as possible would be preferable, or if there are larger suites available for adequate accommodations, that would also work quite nicely. So long as everyone has a place to sleep, whether shared rooms or no, we will be quite content. Cost is not a problem – we are more than happy to compensate.

Again, our sincere thanks for the invitation. We look forward to your response at your earliest convenience.

--Nathicana D’Aquisto, Dread Lady and First Imperatrice of the Dominion

Meanwhile, preparations went apace, in selecting what to take, who to take for the security detail, and what costumes would be appropriate for the occasion. The children especially were excited, this being their first formal event outside the Dominion, and their youthful enthusiasm on account of it all carried over to most daily tasks, adding a dollop of chaos to the usually mundane.

Manners were reviewed, as well as expectations of behaviour without too much incident aside from the usual giggling and antics that children eventually broke down in. Naiya seemed to pick up on Nathi’s quiet anxieties in spite of public protestations that all would be well, taking an odd interest in who the members of the security team would be. The little girl broke out in a smile when she was told Mas and Pascali would of course be included, as well as the surprising yet welcome addition of Jas and some of his crew mixed in.

The times he’d been to the villa, Naiya had enjoyed teasing him about the clove smell and once going so far as to gently tug at his goatee, much to Nathi’s amusement. Jas, for all his grumbling, seemed to have developed a bit of a soft spot for what he called ‘the little ankle-biters’, and though he hadn’t cut her any slack on his fees, there did seem to be a slight twinkle in his eyes as he watched the two kids tear around the terrace while they discussed the details of the trip.

When the time came, her private Loki (http://www.weirdozone.com/games/btdesigns/thumbnails/tme187loki.jpg), sumptuously appointed and named oddly enough, the Revenge, was prepared and loaded with all the appropriate equipment and personnel – including the contingent that would be on call should the worst scenario happen and an armed extraction be called for. A Spook sector was devoted to the entire group for coordination, with the additional precaution of tiny tracking devices being placed with Nathi, the twins, and Gianni, ‘in case of’.

Any and all restrictions given by the New Katagan offices were adhered to, there being a plethora of options to choose from for personal defense, both lethal and non-lethal. Proper clearances were obtained, transportation arrangements made, and The Tempest was made ready for use as the transport between Loki and the New Katagan airport.

Naiya and Marcus couldn’t help but be excited at the catlike appearance of those that greeted them, quietly discussing the similarities yet distinct differences between them and ‘Aunty Shorty’, and wondering idly if these too supported the ‘scream and leap’ approach. A quick word and a warning look from Nathi brought any such experimentations short. For the moment at least.

With many polite thanks for the hospitality, they eventually were shown to their rooms where the security detail immediately got to work with their usual scans and setting up their own internal surveillance, while the partygoers went about getting ready for the dinner. All in all, it seemed to be shaping up to be a very enjoyable excursion. Even if it had become readily apparent that the children were going to be a veritable font of youthful exuberance.

“Don’t worry, Gianni,” Nathicana said, touching up with a bit of lip gloss. “At this rate, they’ll have worn themselves out soon after dinner.”

“You forget m’lady – I know these children,” he replied with a wry smile. “Them running out of steam early is the least of my ‘worries’.”




ooc: forwarding through arrival posted with permission – grazie

"My lord Secretary has been given the Alford Suite," Lady Yvette told Steven, leading him and his consort to their rooms within the Palace. "The Lady hopes that it shall suffice."

Decked out in the same opulent vein as the other guest suites, the Alford Suite certainly should suffice. Lady Yvette pointed out its amenities and made herself scarce, disappearing with a bow and instructions that she could be reached by any servant, should my lord Secretary require anything.

---

"The ball shall begin at half past nine, my lord," Lady Olivia replied, "But the dinner before then shall begin at six; as it is a quarter to four now, guests may be presented to His Excellency the Chancellor or Her Majesty the High Queen until a quarter past five, should you wish it."*

---

To those who did not know it the Maple Palace would be a maze, the result of five hundred years of extensions, renovations, destruction and rebuilding. Servants in crisp white uniforms hurried about on a thousand and one urgent tasks, interspersed here and there with the elegant, drifting forms of Companions on similar business.

The Companions, however, were happy to suggest features that might interest the foreign guests; the libraries, the fencing-halls, the gardens, the Palace museum, the public ancestral shrines of the House of Denikarev - each one made great by the attentions of some former monarch, with its own history and character.

---

The grounds were as elegant as the Palace itself, courtyards opening onto gardens which spilled in careful terraces down the slope, towards the forest. These were not rigid geometric prisons like the great gardens of Versailles but more organic, freely flowing shapes, grassy lawns and shady stands of trees alternating with gentle streams and waterfalls in which koi swam slowly.

All this was run through with winding gravelled paths, carefully laid to ensure the most beautiful view of the gardens, and on this afternoon the paths were crowded with the cream of Katagani society; Margraves, Margravines, lesser nobility and industrial magnates dressed in everything from sober black to gowns fit to outshine a peacock.

Here a clique of young catgirls were lying on the grass, giggling and eating fresh strawberries by the handful (their lips and fingers stained a luscious red); there a couple had paused upon a bridge, deep in conversation; and through them all moved the Companions, with a grace so refined as to seem effortless, beauty honed to perfection.

Less obtrusive are the muscular white-clad nekos who slip in pairs along the paths and through the gardens; so plain are they, compared to the glories of the nobility, that the eye slips over them unseen; that the long blades hanging at their left hips and the carbines at their right go unnoticed. Even on this day - especially on this day - the Highguard are vigilant.

---

"The dinner shall begin at six," Lady Ingrid told Jerrick (unconsciously echoing Lady Olivia, in another wing of the Palace). "There is time before then to meet Her Majesty or the Chancellor, if you wish to; otherwise, there are many things to see here in the Palace; or, if you wish to have privacy, Lady Ingrid shall return at ten to six to guide you."

---

"Lady Briana is pleased to meet you, Your Majesty, Lady Sharra. There is no need for apology, Your Majesty - she is not offended. She bids you welcome to New Katagan, and trusts that you shall enjoy your stay here. If you will follow her, she will guide you to the suite that has been assigned to you in the Maple Palace."**

---

Imperatrice D'Aquisto,

It is I who am honoured to be able to accept your message; Her Majesty shall be most pleased to meet you. As our honoured guests, it would be churlish were we not to house you in the Maple Palace itself. As our guests, your costs shall be paid by the House of Denikarev - it is Her Majesty's pleasure to entertain the world's leaders, and your presence all the payment she asks.

Sincerely,

Julian Kane
Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy

---

OOC:
*Smacks forehead* Sorry about that, Iansisle; it was entirely unconscious of me.
*I'm giving a few hours IC between the arrivals and the start of the dinner so that everyone can arrive (IC and OOC) but people who are already here could use that time to explore the Palace, chat with other delegates, or meet with the High Queen. Official diplomatic-type things should be held off until the next day - it is a holiday, after all - but there's plenty of time to pay your respects to Her Majesty if you want to.
**The Amazons Daughters, Aerion, feel free to fast-forward through the arrivals and post your people already at the Palace; at this point there's not much point in more of the same sort of thing.
More players are still welcome, of course.

OOC> I will take advantage of the fast forward ;)

This suite is truly splendid Lady Briana.
I was wondering if I could have an audience with Her Majesty before the ball begins, It is traditon for our people to ask the ruler of a nation we visit for hospitality.

Jerrick nodded in thanks to Lady Ingrid. "I'm sure the High Queen and the High Chanceller must be busy right now, and notibly so with the other foriegn dignitaries that have been invited. Unless either would have me, I'll wait till later tonight to meet them."

He took another sweeping look around the room, smiling. "If you don't mind, I think I could use a shower, maybe take a walk around the grounds, if that is acceptable. I'll be ready by ten till." He did a quick set of his watch, advancing the rotating dial around the edge so that it would alert him at the appropriate time.

"Thank you, Lady Ingrid, for your hospitality."

Having ordered their costumes and ensuring that said goods would reach them in time for the Ball, Vardon made the suggestion that they take a look around the vast Palace.

Making their way through what seemed like several miles of corridors, twisting here and turning there they had to stop more than once to ask directions of a member of the Palace staff, who were very easy to distinguish in their crisp white uniform, and who although all seemed to be extremely busy never failed to direct the two young men towards the gardens with a polite smile.

Passing through the Palace, Aris couldn't help noticing the unusual wall-hangings and various styles of trophies that were scattered around.
Obviously most have been attained over a vast number of years, some of them he had seen photographs of in books of antiquity he had read on rainy days when his Mother hadn't let him out.

Finally they found themselves outside following a gravel path towards a small waterfall with a stream falling away from it, winding it's slow path through luscious trees and verdant lawns.

There were many of the Katagans strolling through the gardens, all of whom looked magnificent to eyes unused to such riches as these people appeared to have.

"Let's just sit here for a while Aris. I suddenly feel somewhat overawed by this spectacle, and these people are so...I don't know....there is an elegance about them I haven't seen in any other race of people before."

"I fell very much the same, and the afternoon is so still and warm."

They sat beside the waterfall, watching the fish swim.
The whole scene gave a feeling of peace and tranquillity, the group of girls lounging on the lawns some way distant, giggling and eating fruit added to the beauty.

"'Ey, boss."

Bonsignore "Piranha" Venditti, Il Sultano of the Human Vice-Powered Sultanate of Moneylaunderingstan, looks over his shoulder at the thuggish man idly fingering the red and white cloth that makes up the flag of the good open-ocean luxury yacht MV Il Sultano's Ride. One eyebrow raises slightly behind massive blocky Italian sunglasses, the cheap kind that both protect one's eyesight from the Mediterranean--or, in Venditti's case, the Southern Pacific--sun and block out half of one's face. Except, of course, that said sunglasses are actually made by one of the most renowned Italian names in fashion and consist of quality materials. They cost more than the gross domestic product of most Third World cities. Then again, Il Sultano is simply like that. A weasely-looking man with straight black hair made greasy-looking through too much pomade, constantly smoking a luxury cigarette or chewing on a mohagany toothpick, he wears grey pinstriped suits that look like the cheap castaways one normally finds in retro shops in college districts... except, of course, that they're perfectly tailored and made of only the finest materials. "Ay-ay-ay," he says, waving a hand, "that's the flag of our good honest God-fearin' country, there, Enforcer."

"Yeah, I knows." The Enforcer is a brutish man, as bulky and muscled and battered as his 'boss' is wiry and slinky. Somehow, he manages to be uglier than just his beaten, broken, scarred face, heavily haired arms, and the fact that even in a tailored suit he looks like a great ape given some bad plastic surgery and shoehorned into his clothes. Something in, or a light behind, his eyes speaks of a less definable ugliness. A sort of malevolent brilliance, perhaps, the stereotypical twinkle in the greedy banker's eye, the shudder-inducing gleam of the laughing slavedriver or the fascist triggerman. "I still don' get why we din' use my idea fo' th' flag."

"Look, look, Enforcer," Vircotti says in his best 'hey buddy' voice, except in this case he's actually sincere about it, as he slaps a hand on the bigger man's upper arm (his shoulder would be something of a reach) "we've been over this a million times, baby. One, it ain't your idea. What's his face--Orwell--came up with the whole 'boot smashing a human face forever' idea. Two, it don't present the image we want for Moneylaunderingstan. Y'know, people are stupid. They make choices based on logos. They look for someone to clean up their records, give 'em an honest second chance without all that dirty laundry, and, well, given the choice of a li'l white plus sign on red or... well... a boot stomping on a face, however stylized..." He shrugs. "Even if it woul' be more 'honest,' given our recent... acquisition of bizness in Thaimedownam."

"'Ell, boss, bidness 's bidness, as ya say." The Enforcer grins, revealing teeth sharpened by breaks and chips. "It ain' much mo' diff'r'nt from dose gennlemen's clubs what our 'bassies 've been runnin' fo' years."

"'Cept in scope, Enforcer." Il Sultano looks down and kicks an imaginary rock on the pristine deck. "Some of them things'll turn a man's stomach."

"Don' tell me you's gettin' a conscienz," the burly man laughs, although not in a completely horrible way. "We's jus' givin' people th' freedoms, y'know, not our 'sponsibility to see they don' 'buse 'em. 'Sides, who's to say wot's 'buse nowadays? I's readin' some papers wot say sex'al concienz'ness 'velops as early as--"

"I'll feel better when The Bookie shows me the figures, Enforcer, no worries. Jus' been a boat too long, is all." Il Sultano looks out over the ocean, hands in his cheap-looking but expensively designed and made pockets. "The Bookie for my heart, Il Padre for my soul, baby." He shakes his head. "It'll feel good to be on dry land that ain't sweltering in one way or anutter. Speaking of, what's our market growth in Narcolombia lookin' like nowadays?"

"Oh yeas, I jus' got back fro' dere." Grinning horribly, the Enforcer gets that particular twinkle in his eyes again. "Seen-your Battista 's been made ta see tha' workin' with tha Sultanate 's in... his bes' interests. Only took 'im firty gards broke in half 'n mos' of his lef' arm. Tuff ol' bastard, did'm by the joints. Got up to elbow 'fore he cracked."

Vircotti smirks. "'S a cryin' shame some people just don' see reason and end up gettin' hurt." He glances over your shoulder. "You did give 'im the chance to see reason, right?"

"I figgered yer 'gotiashuns covered mos' o' dat," The Enforcer replies, "but yeah, I gave 'im a chance. Sev'ral, act'ly, one 'tween each wave o' gards. An' aft'r tha las' one."

Shaking his head, Il Sultano hits the filter in his hundred-dollar cigarette, pulls it from his lips, and tosses it overboard. "'S a shame."

"Cryin' shame, boss. 'Ey," the huge Neanderthal rises up on the balls of his feet with a grace he simply should not be allowed to have as he shields his beady eyes with one shovel-like hand, "dat dere's tha country we're off to, eh? 'Eard dey got cat-ears."

"We'll just have to see, eh?" Bonsignore smirks, draws another cigarette from a diamond-studded cigarette case he returns to his inside jacket pocket, then puffs as he ignites his travel lighter, the one made out of an antique Great War-era hand grenade. The blue triangle of flame suggests it was designed to ignite something more than tobacco, but Piranha never bothered touching that sort of stuff. Rots the brain, it does--to each their own, but that sort of thing ain't his thing. Not that it stops him from making sure his organization gets it from who has it to who wants it... after all, freedom of choice and the demands of the market and all that.

---

The local populace is quite helpful in getting the two foreigners to where they need to be. It is a festival, after all, foreigners are probably in relative abundance, and there's no way in hell anyone is going to try and give anyone standing next to The Enforcer bad directions.

So, it is with assumed inevitability that Il Sultano comes face-to-face with someone of at least marginal importance in matters of the party. Hands in pockets and smoking yet another hundred-dollar cigarette out of the side of his lips Bogart-style, he smiles. "Hey, baby." His form of address doesn't change from male or female. "I'm Il Sultano Venditti of the good God-fearing nation of Moneylaunderingstan." With a practiced flick he offers a business card between two fingers. "If you're ever in need of doing some honest bizness, clearing up things up with the authorities, or needin' a good time" he leans forward and tilts down his sunglasses just enough to wink with one brown eye before returning to his usual lackadaisical pose, "well, we here have got some solutions for ya. Anyway, we're 'ere for the party and all and don' wanna step on toes and all--when in Rome, after all--so I guess you could say we're lookin' for some direction. I 'spose we could go see the royals, if'n it's not any sort of inconvenience or impoliteness to ya, or we could go meet the other guests, if that's what we should get to doing. 'S your country, baby."

Throughout all of this, The Enforcer remains completely silent, even though a small and perhaps somewhat disconcerting secret smile rests with nearly Buddha serenity on his lips.

Mov may be your run of the mill civil administrator head of state, but he always had a personal like for state gatherings, his hobby, if you will. He still cared for those around him, and in particular, one person he knew desperately needed an escape, if only for a while.

Julian, I would be honoured to send a representative to observe this joyous happening, and give thanks that in this day and age the world still possesses people who have the strength to lead their people, no matter how trying.
Though I must confess I have a more personal interest in sending someone, as your people possess some of the same physical traits as mine, and that intrigues me to no end. As I lack the ah, more formal graces one would expect from a head of state, I will send someone who does-someone more aqquainted with the niceties of royal courts. I don't wish to impose, so they will cover all of their own expenses in all regards.

I, on behalf of my nation and it's people, wish you and the new High Queen a long and prosperous life.

Movodor Alarin, shepard-father of the people's tribes.

That immortal son of a bitch has a perverse sense of humour.
The thoughts crossing Lorain's mind weren't exactly generous, but as she'd agreed to do this as a favour for an old friend, she was tied to it.
It didn't help that she had been weaving through the wilderness only a few days before for one of her more intimate associates.

As much as she hated it, she was truly born into this kind of social atmosphere. As she stared out a window to the earth below, all she could think of was
I hate aircraft.

Siobhan awoke propped up in a plush armchair with Finn staring out the window not 5 paces distant. She had been tired from the journey, and sleep had found its hold, if only briefly. He looked over as she stretched and stood.

"I'm sorry Finn.. must've been more tired than I thought."

The Guardian said nothing, as usual, but smiled slightly. By default he followed Gael's loyalties, and the Sovereigness and Gael shared mutual respect. Siobhan wondered from time to time what would happen if that ever changed, but just as quickly pushed the thought from her mind. She would deal with that if and when it ever became an issue. After fixing her hair and makeup, the two of them departed to explore the grounds a bit.

Siobhan was content to wander the hallways idly, but they seemed to stretch on forever, and every time they spotted another guest, Finn tensed beside her. She was beginning to suspect he had no great love for confined spaces. At the direction of a sharply dressed worker, the two of them wound their way towards the gardens. Once outside, Finn seemed to relax a bit, and stretched his wings subtly.

"Happier now?"

Finn smiled thinly, but he did seem more relaxed. His gaze scanned the area briefly, but it wasn't the same as anxious constant surveillance earlier. Siobhan was happy for his constant vigilance, but a good Guardian knew how to observe without seeming to do so. In part, this was training for him. There were a few people scattered throughout the gardens, so the two of them decided to stroll casually, just enjoying the atmosphere.

Alice let the smell of the gardens wash over her for just a moment, rejoicing in the fragrant aromas after all those hours cramped into an oily fuselage. The court-in-exile had none of the sleek transonic Bankfield courier jets of the Republic’s diplomatic service; they had to make do instead with an old Walmingtonian twin propeller Acorn, on her last legs, which had been donated by a sympathetic Sir Henry. They might have borrowed one of Valinon’s orbital drop shuttles, of course, but it was a long-standing precedent of His Majesty’s government that no diplomatic missions would use technology unreplicatable on the Shield, and no mere revolution was going to undo hundreds of years of common law.

Perhaps amongst all the riches of the garden’s occupants, Alice might have seemed underdressed for a royal. Her dress was long and white, devoid of most frills, and nicely covered her figure with the modesty becoming a Shieldian woman. The Duke of Dunerbridge, on the other hand, was done up in a most ridiculous manner: he wore a colonel’s traditional dress uniform of the Third Regiment of Horse, The Princess Royal’s Own Hussars, a unit with which he never served. The green dolman under his fur-lined pelisse, slung jauntily over one shoulder, was heavily ornamented with Austrian lace. His shako, black with green trimmings, was topped with an enormous red plume. High brown leather boots met with his leggings, black with a gold stripe, just below the knee.

He looked perfectly ridiculous, of course, a sour anachronistic note among the more modern dress of the gardens, and Alice sensed that even Lord Dunerbridge sensed it. He had intended, of course, to embody the traditional Hussar strengths: flashy horsemanship, sexual prowess, and roguish irreverence. However, the costume did not project the image of a virile swashbuckler at all; it merely served as a lightning rod for half-whispered giggles about the state of Iansislean social progression.

Alice wanted to escape from his side and cast her gaze about the gardens desperately, hoping to latch onto someone so she could detach the duke to go where he would. Her eyes gleaming in victory, she spotted Siobhan and Finn on the other side of a fountain. They were as obviously foreign as the Iansisleans -- the lack of a tail was a good first clue -- and, Alice reasoned, the Duke would soon grow bored under the eye of that imposing (if bizzare-looking) birdman and wander off. She angled in their direction, trusting in the Duke to follow her without a verbal clue, and smiled broadly.

“Enjoying your walk, I trust?” Alice asked once she was close enough.

((no worries, Kat. If I worried too much about messing up my name -- a particular favorite is the missing of the first ‘s’ -- I should have had a heart attack long ago ;)))

It wasn't long at all before the first of the event's many potential social engagements surfaced. They had been casually strolling beneath the drooping branches of an elegant willow, where a reflective pond cut an unusual shape through the manicured landscaping. Beneath those branches they had encountered a patch of delightful, exotic-looking yellow flowers. The Sovereigness had been inspecting the blooms when an unfamiliar woman and her companion approached. Finn was watching them calmly. She was pleased with his progress, and smiled in greeting as the other woman spoke.

"Aye, and we are. The gardens here are lovely, aren't they?"

She eyed the two amiably, hoping to place them by their dress. The military uniform should have made the task easier, but Siobhan was at a loss. She found herself wishing she had gone out to participate in this sort of thing years earlier.

Once everyone was freshened up, and the children were once again somewhat wrangled, Nathicana asked if a time could be arranged, at Her Majesties pleasure, where they might offer their congratulations. If such could be arranged before dinner, wonderful. And if not, they would be happy to wait. In the meantime, it was decided that time would be well spent in the gardens, visiting the grounds. What they had seen had been beautiful, and it would do the little ones well to walk off some of their energy, and satisfy their curiosity about their hosts.

Both Naiya in her delicate white dress with the beading and cutaway floral patterns, dark hair arrayed in soft curls, complete with a modest tiara, and Marcus in his dark charcoal jacket with mandarin collar and burgundy brocade vest chattered excitedly, albeit in more hushed tones (most of the time at least) than one might expect. They shared observations and discoveries, asking questions about this, that, and every little thing they came across, and not missing an opportunity to say hello and show they knew how to bow and curtsey like nice little gentlemen and ladies did. And though they were excited to be doing something ‘all grown up’, there was still ample fidgeting and fussing, and gentle occasional reminders given on account.

Gianni ( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/gianni_cafagna.jpg) for his part seemed rather taken with the grace and charm of the Companions, watching now and then with a quiet smile that hid no base thoughts behind it. He wore a simple yet elegant ensemble of a dark charcoal jacket, pinstriped trousers, and a silk vest and cravat in complimentary platinum tones, helping look after the children as if it were second nature – which by now, it largely was.

Nathi ( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/nathi_smile.jpg) smiled often, though out of habit especially around felinids, it was with a decided lack of teeth showing. A silk scarf of Dominion red embroidered at the corners in a dark gold was worn looped lightly through her arms and around the small of her back, and she had chosen a long black sleeveless gown that managed to accentuate her good features while not crossing the line into 'scandalous', with decorative beading along the fitted bodice, and matching gloves worn up past her elbows.

Her focus was her children and their surroundings, not taking for granted the fact that they had a quite capable team accompanying them. Two kinds of paranoia, after all. She hadn’t impressed on the little ones what rank and title and all meant just yet. For one, they were still very young. For another, a bit of humility and manners were something anyone could afford, and those in high position, moreso than many. There would be time enough to work on the subtleties of address and all the political maneuvering that could be involved in as simple a thing as a greeting.

For those taking note of the security team, several things would be apparent. They all dressed the same, in unrelieved black bearing no insignia, with longcoats of a lighter material billowing slightly as they walked, the material designed to disguise much of what was underneath. Here and there might be glimpsed a sheathed knife, a telescoping baton, even the hint of a holstered handgun, but not much more than that. Pockets and functional pouches were in abundance, though not in such numbers as to be in the way. One and all wore dark glasses and a small mouthpiece and earbud. Some of the people included however, did not seem to match the ‘norm’ so far as Dominion looks went.

The one they called Angelico ( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Agents/Angelico.jpg) seemed to blend right in with the others, save for the gold loop he wore in his ear, lending him a somewhat piratical appearance. He was most definitely the ‘tank’ of the group, and unlike the friendly Mas ( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Agents/angelus_massetti.jpg) and Pascali ( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Agents/pascalli.jpg), had an unpleasant look about him that was difficult to define.

Reihana ( http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Agents/Reihana.jpg) showed a tendency to observe things more quietly, usually bringing up the rear. Her pale, fine-boned features contrasted starkly with the dark clothing, and her soft voice, when she did speak, had a rich Russo cast to it.

Zhou (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/Characters/Agents/Zhou.jpg)was a surprisingly diminutive woman, somewhat shorter and more slight of build than the Imperatrice, who at around five foot seven was less than intimidating, if one judged solely on height. Peeking from underneath her collar could be seen a choker on a simple velvet band, sporting a small Chinese good luck charm in jade. She spoke as one might expect a more refined English lady would, smiling easily as she kept a sharp eye on those they passed, quietly assessing threat potentials.

Seeming to direct things was a gruff-looking older man, with close-cropped graying hair receding in the front, and a neatly-clipped goatee. A wicked scar ran at a slight angle across his right eye, running from forehead to cheek, though it didn’t seem to interfere with his vision. He communicated with the group as much with hand signals as words, those few he offered in a gravelly voice around the clove cigarette he kept between his lips. His manner of speech was as rough as his appearance, though on account of the children present, his language was decidedly not – though it took effort now and then. Jas was indeed a mix of mannerisms and inflections, seeming to borrow from several places and cultures to create an image all his own.

All in all, the entire group seemed comfortable with one another, and their methods, and their surroundings, with the guests enjoying themselves, and security seamlessly doing what they were paid to do, trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible – even if they were occasionally pestered by overly-excited children who felt they just had to share their discoveries with everyone involved. Ah, the innocence of youth.

Putting aside the entirely uncomfortable and unnerving experience that mechanical flight is to someone of Lorain's age, she slides through the decidedly pleasant atmosphere like a calming mist. Dressed in decidedly less than striking ceremonial military garb, intentionally bland grey, lining visible as an equally bland black. Her hairstyle, if you could even call it that, is locked, as always, in it's eternal medium length wavy form. Her 'uniform' lacks the outrageous adornments one would expect of a woman of her apparent station, all neccessary information being woven into a chip placed on the fabric where one would expect rank insignia to be.

Indeed, the space required to display all of the medals, badges and patches Lorain had accumulated over her long history would be more than even the most talented tailor could hope to deal with. One needs only a method to wirelessly read the information on the chip, and one would recieve basic information on who she is.

For all the reasons Mov had requested she attend this gathering, to pay their respects-she kept an eye on everyone of note she happened to pass by.
One particular group of new arrivals draws her interest to an especially high degree, those of the black clothing and well veiled menace.
From her past experiences she understands well enough the threat these types can pose-real or imagined, and so she shadows them, almost literally, keeping well enough away that she could be considered to be just travelling in vaguely the same direction they are. If they didn't notice her right off the bat, they would soon enough, as she made no real effort to hide herself, indeed, if they ever glanced in her direction, they would notice her head bowed slightly, eyes glued to the ground just behind the group.


The formal can wait. These people appear slightly..off, to Lorain. As if they're not quite real. She can't put her finger on it, but this is a pleasant diversion from what would otherwise be an agonizing state visit. She carries no direct weaponry, and as such for all intents and purposes for the moment she is obviously unarmed.

"Aye, and we are. The gardens here are lovely, aren't they?"

She eyed the two amiably, hoping to place them by their dress. The military uniform should have made the task easier, but Siobhan was at a loss. She found herself wishing she had gone out to participate in this sort of thing years earlier.

"Indeed. They remind me of my days, years ago, at Beshon Court," said Alice. There was a few uncomfortable seconds of silence, before an almost impercetable clearing of the throat reminded Dunerbridge that there was no footman who could announce them.

"Of course!" he exclaimed, his voice just loud enough to be annoying without being enthusing. In sizing up the five-foot-six duke, one could tell that the military uniform was nothing more than a costume; under its well-tailored lines, plump, soft flesh could be seen in the place of muscles. "May I present Her Highness, Princess Alice of Iansisle!"

"Thank you, Your Grace," replied Alice ever so softly. "A pleasure to meet you," she added, at a louder volume, to Siobhan

If there is one thing these people know, it’s ‘do not take anyone or anything for granted’, including other guests who seem to have taken interest but are reluctant to make acquaintances. Noticing things like being followed is their job after all, so eventually the effort is noticed, and dealt with quietly and efficiently.

Gardens being what they are, there is more than likely ample space to move around, and ample cover to lose oneself in, and two members of the somewhat already spread out security team do just that after a quick series of subtle hand gestures, and brief commands over Spook.

Gradually dropping back, letting the curious woman’s trailing pace eventually take her past them, they fall in quietly behind to either side, the first murmuring quietly in a pleasant, friendly tone, making certain their movements are as unthreatening as a pair of strangers materializing nearby can be.

“Buongiorno, Signora. Is there perhaps something we can be of assistance with? If you wish a word with the Imperatrice, I’m certain we can arrange it.”

Siobhan nodded cordially, and extended her hand in greeting. Finn followed suit, but instead of shaking the Lady's hand, bowed slightly and brought her knuckle to his lips in a gesture of respect. Siobhan had heard of Iansisle, but was unable to recall any useful details. Just that she had recieved a short breifing about events there, during one of the more stressful periods of Gaelic internal conflict. Gaeltach had refrained from breaking into all out civil war thus far, and things seemed to be calming down - one of the many reasons she was able to attend this event.

"The pleasure is mine, Princess Alice. And a pleasure to meet yourself as well," she added tactfully in the Duke's direction.

It was obvious the man was somewhat self-important. Finn took the cue flawlessly, speaking for the first time since they had arrived.

"Princess Alice, may I introduce Siobhan Kelly, Sovereigness of Gaeltach."

OOC: I am Temporarily unavailible due to computer problems. SO< I suggust just assuming I'm going with the flow of things, but hiding in the backround. My Costume was going to be of the Grim Reaper Herself.

"My lord Secretary has been given the Alford Suite," Lady Yvette told Steven, leading him and his consort to their rooms within the Palace. "The Lady hopes that it shall suffice."

Decked out in the same opulent vein as the other guest suites, the Alford Suite certainly should suffice. Lady Yvette pointed out its amenities and made herself scarce, disappearing with a bow and instructions that she could be reached by any servant, should my lord Secretary require anything.


Steven thanked Yvette and looked around the room. It was beautiful, and perfect for Lostelle and he. They stepped out on to the balcony. The sun was just starting to set and they two of them couldn't be happier anywhere else.

Lostelle looked at Steven and then looked out into the view. She could see gardens that were filled with all sorts of exotic plants. She looked a little farther and saw some of the other guests from other countries. They would be interesting to meet...

Eyes straight ahead, face expressionless, the only notable feature being a small glowing purple stone rolling about in her hand. More than anything else-even if she keeps notice of the people flanking her, her attention is locked on that stone, as if in the act of ignoring it would cause her to drop dead. A tiny spartan pouch hangs off her side, nothing more than a leather bag, containing not weapons nor food.

She wears no makeup, no physical alteration. She's not unattractive, but her manner makes her features seem sharp, harsh, as if she's spent a life in the worlds worst gulag. She stiffens, getting into an almost marching rhythm as she walks.

She speaks english-for the moment, but it comes out as if the person has spent a lifetime or more practicing, rather than as a native speaker. For all the appearances she puts on, her accent is completely out of place, almost otherworldly, a rolling together of at least a thousand different peoples and regions, mashed into something that's clear and precise and yet decidedly unique to her.

Transferring something, a title of sorts used to describe and greet them in this case, from her native language into something in a modern language is pretty much impossible enough, and it comes out as probable gibberish, but anyone from any long descended derivative language could understand at least partially.

"Elisiraiorani, That would be completely acceptable."

This little group of people interests her, they put up a wall of politeness, of guarded sincerity, and yet there's always the subtle menace, the feeling that prying into their business would invite some very unpleasant consequences.
And so, perhaps more so than usual, respect for someone not yet met is due.

Ekaterina Palace - New Katagan Guest House of Princess Ameria Wasterin's Entourage

Chief Handmaiden Shashin knew as soon as Her Royal Highness's plane the Takares Luxury Jet had touched down of her arrival. She was already inside the Adinas Star Coach Limousine with Captain Daerin en route to the airport, along with one Ilon-Madro SUV filled with staff, and 4 motorcycles upon which some of the Royal Guard wearing their riding gear.

The Adinas Star Coach Limousine was shielded, yet appeared as elegant as any. Its smooth modern form was a glossy black, with platinum rims that were all polished to a sheen. The limousine flew small Aerionian flags indicating its presence as a diplomatic limousine.

Meanwhile, another Adinas Star Coach Limousine headed toward the Maple Palace, to await until a specified time.

New Katagan Airport

The entourage arrived quickly at the airport, just as a red carpet had been rolled out by the staff that were already waiting at the airport for the Princess's arrival. The Takares Luxury Jet came to a landing, the mid-sized passenger plane descending for a smooth landing on the runway and to the spot. The chairs were quickly moved into position, and the red carpet rolled out literally for the Princess.

The Chief Handmaiden was nervous and hoped the Princess would be pleased. The Chief Handmaiden and the Captain stood at the end of the red carpet, awaiting the Princess to get off the plane. Her Adinas Star Coach limousine with escort was waiting, door open, and the Royal Guard stood vigilantly.

As the event had already started, there was no time to get ready at the guest palace, so the Princess had already quickly gotten ready in her suite on the plane which was luxuriously appointed for a room on a plane. The luxury mid-sized jet was well appointed overall though slower than some of the Takares Supersonic jets often used for diplomacy.

Princess Ameria Wasterin, Lady High Chancellor, stepped down the plane elegantly wearing an beautiful purple V cut gown that exposed her arms and back but still managed to appear elegant, with an silken purple shawl wrapped around her back and arms. The Ambassador from the Royal Ministry of Foreign Affairs and his wife quickly followed behind them, ready to attend the event as well.

The Chief Handmaiden smiled, and Captain Daerin bowed as customary "Your Royal Highness."

Princess Ameria Wasterin snapped back, "There is no time." She looked at the Chief Handmaiden, "Shashin, is everything prepared?" Shasin nodded, "Yes Your Highness."

The entourage began moving toward the Maple Palace, and the event with the 2 Royal Guard motorcycles flanking the front of the limousine then 2 behind. The SUV cruised behind as wel, and the entourage of vehicles began moving through the streets of the city toward the Maple Palace.

"The pleasure is mine, Princess Alice. And a pleasure to meet yourself as well," she added tactfully in the Duke's direction.

"Charmed," said Dunerbridge, bowing ever so slightly.

"My escort, His Grace the Duke of Dunerbridge," said Alice shortly by way of introduction.

It was obvious the man was somewhat self-important. Finn took the cue flawlessly, speaking for the first time since they had arrived.

"Princess Alice, may I introduce Siobhan Kelly, Sovereigness of Gaeltach."

Alice, meanwhile, was attempting to decide which honorific was due a Sovereigness. She decided on "Excellency" -- good and generic.

"Gaeltach?" she said conversationally, beckoning for Siobhan to follow her. "Please, Your Excellency, walk with me. I have not had the chance to talk to anyone but His Grace for some while.

"If it would not be too undiplomatic, I must confess that I am not overly familiar with Your Excellency's country. Foreign affairs was never my strong suit -- but desperate times call for unusual roles to be assumed. Please favor me with some stories of your realm."

Dunerbridge clasped his hands behind his back and attempted to follow Alice. However, he was quickly bored by the conversation and his eyes were drawn to the exotic women parading about the gardens.

His Majesty was still waiting for the reply to his letter to New Katagan; a few days had passed since the communication was sent off, and he knew that communications were not that slow - at least these days

Siobhan fell in step while Finn discreetly eyed the Duke. He was content to follow the women at a leisurely pace, neither actively listening to the conversation nor ignoring it entirely.

"If I may confess, Princess, I can sympathize. Until recently internal matters have prevented me from following foreign events," she confided in a mock-conspiritorial gesture.

At the request for information, she paused comfortably to admire some of the scenery before responding.

"Gaeltach is rich in story. Like many countries, there comes a point in history where myth and fact are inexorably intertwined. The noble family lines can trace their ancestory back into the mists of time, mine included. Unfortunately with that comes a culture deeply rooted in tradition. The Gaelic people have long memories."

She did not wish to discuss that state of internal affairs, but she found touching upon the beginnings of their cause acceptable. No harm in that. If her mood had darkened somewhat by the end of that explanation, it brightened again now as a story came to mind.

"Many generations ago, the political structure in Gaeltach was actually much the same as today.. only simplified of course. The country was united under the High King and the cheiftans and cheifs branched out from there, each with a considerable amount of autonomy. My ancestor Eamon was the first of the Kelly's to claim the High Kingship from the mighty Burke's. It was a shocking claim though valid, and never sat well with their pride.

"Eamon was a particularly unscrupulous man, and great lover of women. He used his many sons as leverage among the families of power, and in doing so never named a formal heir. When he was killed in battle, this led to bloody infighting. Family against family, brother against brother, all in the hopes of claiming the Kingship. In the end it wasn't his son at all that claimed the throne, but his nephew. While the families were fighting, Brennan Kelly defiantly asserted his claim and defended his right at swordpoint. The brothers laid seige to the city of Kilasser - where the High King was seated. It was the longest recalled to Gaelic memory, lasting nearly a full year. But Brennan was a clever man and managed to outlast them all. Not one soul died of starvation within the city walls for that whole period either. Finally the brothers had no option but to grudgingly accept his claim. They had exhausted their own funds and men for the seige while their clans back home suffered. There has been unrest between the major families ever since."

Siobhan smiled inwardly, remember the old story. She had spared many of the details for the sake of her company. In more ways than she cared to admit, it was this very story that underscored much of the current unrest.

Dread Lady Nathicana - intro

"She shall enquire if it may be arranged, Your Majesty."

Lady Briana bowed and flowed away, returning a short time later with a reply.

"Her Majesty grants you audience, Your Majesty. Lady Briana shall guide you."

There was no hint in Briana's voice that the Amazon Queen might be permitted to delay; having been granted audience, it would now be terribly rude were she not to appear promptly. In their own country, and by their own customs, the Denikarev monarchs outranked Emperors.

Lady Briana led the Amazonians into the highest, most airy levels of the palace, through corridors in which the artwork grew progressively more elegant and refined, until the High Queen's antechamber was undecorated save for a single exquisite bonsai maple.

She stopped here, and after a moment a high-ranking Companion in unadorned white robes emerged from the room beyond. Lady Briana bowed low, and the First Companion spoke in a clear, ringing voice;

"Her Majesty High Queen Mira Denikarev, the First of that Name, is pleased to welcome the audience of her royal cousin, Her Most Royal Majesty Queen Cynthia of the Amazonian Empire."

The doors were thrown open, and the First Companion ushered the two Amazons into Her Majesty's presence.

This room was entirely undecorated - plain wood floors, translucent walls on three sides shining with diffuse sunlight - to throw all emphasis onto the figure on the dais. Her Majesty High Queen Mira Denikarev, the First of that Name, wore a splendid gown of the finest midnight blue silk, wound around with sheer scarves and sashes of silver, decorated with strings and necklaces of lapis lazuli and sapphires.

Within all this, the neko who wore the dress could not help but look queenly, no matter that her hands held the arms of her chair a little too tightly, or that the faint spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose might make her look a little too young to bear such power gracefully.

Behind her, her companions faded into invisibility - Chancellor Kane a supporting figure in charcoal-grey at her right, a tall neko in red leather at her left. The only visible guard, this second figure bore long pistols at her hips and twin blades strapped across her back - clearly the royal Handmaiden, charged with the protection of the young High Queen she could scarcely claim to be older than.

The High Queen rose from her chair with adequate grace - although nothing like that of the Companions - and stepped forward to bestow the formal kisses of greeting upon Queen Cynthia's cheeks. That she had to stand on tiptoe to do so somewhat lessened the effect, and she blushed.

"Cousin," she said - in a voice firm enough not to shake with nervousness - "Your presence is welcome to me - to us."

---

The Undersecretary to the Seneschal of the Maple Palace looked nervously from the sharklike grin of Il Sultano to the even more disturbing smile upon the face of the looming Enforcer and gulped. This wasn't in her job description, was it?

She took the business card with fingers that only trembled a very little and tried to summon up a reply. What came out, unfortunately for the dignity of the Maple Palace, was "Uh".

"Uh." she repeated. "Your Excellency" - she couldn't remember, suddenly, exactly how one styled a Sultan - "I regret that Her Majesty is currently in audience, but I can enquire as to her openness to further audiences once the current one is adjourned." Aristobabble came to the rescue at last. "I believe that many of the guests are currently in the gardens, but I can certainly direct you there if you wish it."

---

A Companion drifted up to Nathicana, for all the world as if it were mere happenstance she'd crossed paths with the Imperatrice, and bowed deeply.

"Imperatrice, Her Majesty is presently in audience, but will be pleased to greet you in a short while. The Lady Amelia shall return to guide you at that time."

She bowed again and wafted off.

---

OOC: Alexandrian Ptolemais: Post number twenty-seven, the quoted section beginning "Imperial Majesty". Muchos apologos, I should have been clearer there. Feel free to make up time by posting your people directly at the Palace.

"She shall enquire if it may be arranged, Your Majesty."

Lady Briana bowed and flowed away, returning a short time later with a reply.

"Her Majesty grants you audience, Your Majesty. Lady Briana shall guide you."

Lady Briana led the Amazonians into the highest, most airy levels of the palace, through corridors in which the artwork grew progressively more elegant and refined, until the High Queen's antechamber was undecorated save for a single exquisite bonsai maple.

She stopped here, and after a moment a high-ranking Companion in unadorned white robes emerged from the room beyond. Lady Briana bowed low, and the First Companion spoke in a clear, ringing voice;

"Her Majesty High Queen Mira Denikarev, the First of that Name, is pleased to welcome the audience of her royal cousin, Her Most Royal Majesty Queen Cynthia of the Amazonian Empire."

The doors were thrown open, and the First Companion ushered the two Amazons into Her Majesty's presence.

As the Queen enters she curtsies deeply and gracefully.

Cousin I apologize for any inconvenience my request has caused so close to the ball, but in this instance I am bound by tradition.

At this the Queen rolls her eye's and smiles. Then taking a deep breath she continues.

I am Cynthia Ambrosias, Queen of the Amazonian Empire, direct descendent of Otrera the daughter of Ares and Artemis. I humbly ask your majesty for hospitality in your great nation.

The High Queen rose from her chair with adequate grace - although nothing like that of the Companions - and stepped forward to bestow the formal kisses of greeting upon Queen Cynthia's cheeks. That she had to stand on tiptoe to do so somewhat lessened the effect, and she blushed.

"Cousin," she said - in a voice firm enough not to shake with nervousness - "Your presence is welcome to me - to us."

I would also ask that your majesty accept this gift as a token of friendship.

The queen turns and signals Lady Sharra forward to present the High Queen with an ornate box.
Inside on a cushion of the finest silk lies an exquisite arrow, the shaft is made of the finest ebony inlayed with gold, the head is crafted from a single flawless fire diamond and the fletching crafted from gold beaten so fine as to look like feathers from some golden bird.
Once opened Queen Cynthia explains exactly what it is.

This is one of the twelve Arrows of Artemis, said to have been created by the smith god Hephaestus.
It is said that an Arrow of Artemis imparts strength, honor and wisdom to its possessor.
This particular arrow was gifted to me by my late father on the death of my mother to mark the day of my ascension to the throne of the Amazonian Empire.

“My thanks,” Nathicana replied to the Companion, smiling warmly. “We will be ready.”

Getting a brief message over Spook from the two soldati meeting with Lorain, she motioned to the two kids who came bouncing over. “Stay close now,” she says, gracefully bending at the knees and gathering them close for first hugs, then a quick bit of fussing and fixing to straighten their clothing and make sure they were presentable. “And be on your best manners. We’re going to be meeting with the Queen soon. But first there seems to be someone else who wants to talk to us.”

“Is it the scary lady coming over with Silvano and Gia?” Naiya asked, leaning over to peek around her mother at the trio approaching, which of course gets her brother curious. He soon scrambled to get a look as well, while Nathi straightened back up and smoothed her own dress.

"She looks like that one lady at papa's office that he says needs to—" Marcus began a bit wide-eyed, only to be cut off quickly by his mother.

“Shush, now,” she said quietly, giving Marcus a warning look. Damn that Devon. “Just be on your best behaviour, yes?”

She’s right though. There’s something not right about this one …

Unconsciously, Nathi reached down to take each of her children by the hand, protectively drawing them just a little closer.

“How very much alike our countries are!” exclaimed Alice. She had not missed the subtle hint, evidenced both by words and facial expressions, that all was not currently well in Gaeltach, but neither did she wish to pry into it. At any rate, those troubles did not detract from the validity of her statement; they merely added a second layer of meaning to it.

“Internecine strife is always the most tragic of all,” she continued, sympathetically. “One can never be sure of one’s allegiances --”

“Begging your Highness’ pardon,” interrupted the Duke from behind them. “But in some cases, one can know only too well that his allegiance must lie with God and his right-born King.”

Alice cracked a half smile at the notion of Lord Dunerbridge being loyal to anyone, even God. When Todd Andrews’ revolution had rocked Weshield, the Duke had abandoned his family at the estate and fled to an Ianapalis townhouse most commonly reserved for licentious affairs. When James had raised his banner in defiance of the Republic, Dunerbridge had skipped the country rather than support his King. Amazing how those who (correctly) thought their position was on the fringes of a social group were the loudest and most ardent to proclaim their loyalty.

“But of course, Your Grace,” Alice allowed, before focusing her mind back onto Siobhan.

“I must apologize,” she said, implying that the apology was both for the Duke’s behavior and some slip of her own. “In my ignorance, I have been styling you ‘Excellency’ when it now seems ‘Majesty’ is the more appropriate. Please excuse this grievous insult to your dignity.”

Rank was a very important part of Iansislean society. With the unfamiliar title, Alice had been struggling to find exactly where she stood in relation to Siobhan, but the mention of a "High King" had helped to give her a more proper frame of reference.

Jerrick stepped out of his shower, having let the near scalding water wash over him. When done, he dressed casually in a kahkis and a polo, and let the gun stay away for once. He felt safe enough in the suite and palace, that his Swiss made pistol wouldn't be needed. He slipped on a pair of boating shoe style loafers, and checked his watch for the time.

The Omega had been a gift of sorts, a memory from his days in the military. He had recieved upon his retirement from the forces from the men in his unit, a thanks for not getting any of them killed. He chuckled as he made sure the dial was still set to alert him of an early time, letting him get back to his room in time to change for the dinner. He had to be ready by ten till, the watch was set to let him know at half past in order to give him twenty minutes to change.

He grabbed his only cell phone, a private one with no listed numbers. The business phones and PDAs were back in Imitora, this one was here to alert him of family emergencies. He had thought a while back that the next emergency would be something simple, his mother falling in the shower, or father having a bad round of golf. Yet in the short time of peace between his leaving the military and starting Reflex, his younger brother, Slev, had joined a SWAT team out of country, and was back in imediate harms way.

Dressed and ready, he grabbed a Emmerson CQC folder out of his duffle, and pocketed the knife. He would leave the gun behind, but wouldn't be totally unarmed. He closed the door behind him as he left the room, and made his way on a slef guided tour through the palace.

OOC: Thanks for that

IC: Choosing twelve people was not too difficult for the Emperor, after all, he had to make decisions like that daily. In the end he decided the best option would be taking Government Ministers that would be expected to attend such functions as well as MPs from each of the six parties.

The jet was readied and the MPs, Minister of Finance, Minister of Foreign Affairs, Minister of Trade and Customs, Deputy Prime Minister, the Prime Minister and of course His Majesty boarded, heading for a masquerade.

For the party, New Katagan was an interesting place - especially for the ordinary MPs that would normally not be invited to such affairs - they had been brought along because hopefully they would mingle with the leaders of other nations and promote the Empire in a positive way. Soon enough, the party was at the palace and waiting to enter.

"Guard, this is the party from Alexandrian Ptolemais of twelve people"

The Undersecretary to the Seneschal of the Maple Palace looked nervously from the sharklike grin of Il Sultano to the even more disturbing smile upon the face of the looming Enforcer and gulped. This wasn't in her job description, was it?

She took the business card with fingers that only trembled a very little and tried to summon up a reply. What came out, unfortunately for the dignity of the Maple Palace, was "Uh".

"Uh." she repeated. "Your Excellency" - she couldn't remember, suddenly, exactly how one styled a Sultan - "I regret that Her Majesty is currently in audience, but I can enquire as to her openness to further audiences once the current one is adjourned." Aristobabble came to the rescue at last. "I believe that many of the guests are currently in the gardens, but I can certainly direct you there if you wish it.
Piranha shoves his hand back into his pocket and grins. "Hey, baby, 's all good. If the top cat in the house... er..." He chuckles and looks down, hand slipping from his pocket again to scratch his forehead. "Looks like my 'ticular sayin's have caught up with me. Perdon, if Her Majesty is busy I'm not so uncouth as to complain. If the gardens're the happening place to be, then, baby, by all means lead the way."

The Enforcer remains quiet and never moves from Il Sultano's side as the rich man with poor taste follows the Undersecretary, hands still in his pockets, where they stay for the duration. Once he reaches the gardens, he notices his cigarette has run down again, pulls it from his lips, looks for an ashtray... then, looking around furtively, tosses it down when no one seems to be looking. The Enforcer crushes it out with a well-timed misstep and kicks it back into the underbrush so it doesn't ruin the groundskeeping too obviously. They've worked together for quite some time now.

Venditti grins at whoever he can, draws out another cigarette, and lights up in a smooth, practiced motion before returning his hands back to roost in his pockets. "Hey, baby," he says to the Undersecretary, "thanks for the directions." He pulls a bill, both of the local currency and of an absurdly large denomination, from his pocket with the same practiced two-finger flick he used for his business card, proffering it with a nod. "For your trouble, eh? 'Always tip good service,' my dear mama, God rest her soul, always used to say."

While this goes on, The Enforcer takes note with his beady, intelligent eyes of an extremely military-looking man in khaki wandering about. Just something to keep aware of, is all--it is his job. Other than that, he simply scans the clearing, instinctively keeping close by his boss while the latter swaggers about, looking as if he's trying to find someone to sell a used car to.

Somewhere off the coast, far enough away from shipping lanes and logical routes and territorial waters and everywhere else anyone was likely to go, several vessels drifted on the languid tides. These were far too high in the water for their apparent size, gleaming crimson and black vessels with expanses that seemed to shimmer with silver and gold. The second largest of these was also the most notable, a destroyer with something of a garden – or at least a lawn – on part of its dorsal surface.

The same metals adorned the costume of the woman, breathing heavily from the exertion of practicing dancing in a dress that was a shade less comfortable than what she was used to, standing on this lawn, looking over the ocean with keen eyes. Beneath a golden ‘crown’ that rose and draped a translucent golden veil behind her, she wore a gleaming Mithril choker which at the front was less than an inch across with delicate inlays of black galvorn and yellow gold and shining diamonds that glowed with the light of the morning star, this was in fact, among other things, her mask; it could create a number of effects, and while it stylistically impinged slightly on her ability to move her head, climbing as it did at the back to work strings of silver chain that playfully held her hair into the blonde hair that fell down to her thighs behind her, covered partly by the veil, she still moved with immaculate grace.

Below was the even more elaborate and perfect necklace (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=7542263&postcount=28) wrought by the famed dwarven smith Telchar, and her dress, a faintly pastel yellow, was ornamented with metals too. Something nicknamed ‘Schrödinger Weave;’ around her narrow waist, were galvorn traceries, that moved somehow between observation; always climbing from the edge of her skirt to the neckline of the dress, above her breasts, but otherwise, completely new whenever it was observed again. Around her waist, a golden belt hung, to embrace a ruby cut into the shape of a dagger-star. The front of the skirt was green against the yellow material, with silver boled, golden leaved tree patterns decorating it.

Even her hands were decorated with metals, a golden band on her right index finger, an elaborate ring of a ruby dagger-star on the middle, a similar but less elaborate ring bearing a design of five stars of varying size, in diamond on a dark blue background, occupied her left ring finger, with a smaller ring of a complicated heraldic design in a circular arrangement on the forefinger of that hand, as well as these she wore solid golden bracelets that went almost half way to her bared elbows and onto the backs of her hands, permitting movement only due to strange materials technologies or some strange magic.

She turned, and looked up with a carmine gaze at her husband, “Like it?” she asked.

He laughed, “Of course.”

For his part the Elenaran was dressed in even more metallic colours, as his outer robe was heavily brocaded gold thread with silver and jet trim. Beneath it he wore turquoise and lower, white, which shone brightly, seeming to cast visible illumination into the air around it, though the light didn’t seem to shine on anything. His blue eyes were quite entrancing, and a Mithril circlet sat upon his head, apparently woven into his hair. His shoes resembled slippers more than shoes, and were a light brown, though not of leather, but more akin to suede.

“Anyway, we ought to be going…”


They weren’t alone when they arrived at the airport in a much smaller ‘aircraft.’ Ranisath disembarked first, clad in a black cloak that covered him from his shoulders to his feet, its gold thread lining occasionally visible as he walked on a shining and bejewelled black cane or sceptre – it was ornate enough to be the latter. Sirithil followed, a little to his right, and behind them, dressed in flowing blacks and stone grey colours, with a supple white glove covering one hand, and dark hair fluttering lightly as he moved, assisted by a slew of tiny invisible gravitic motors that took the form of a dust matched to the colour of the hair was Sirithil’s son, Maglor.

Next off were another woman and man, dressed in a blue dress with numerous silver accoutrements, and an outfit that had the look of a uniform about it, with a crimson cloak bound with a golden eagle clasp, over a black jacket with a small number of elaborations around a crimson dagger-star. Between them walked a young looking girl, apparently about twelve, dressed all in white with a pearl necklace. Respectively, they were Serendis, the Menelmacari defence ‘minister’ her husband and her youngest daughter, Culdalot.

Last but not least, dressed in a lighter blue cloak that was rather unusual by Menelmacari standards, over a dark blue jacket and trousers, was Glorfindel, arguably the most renowned of the Menelmacari. Where the blonde haired Noldorin Lord went, the scents of flowers seemed a little more pronounced, and colours of nature a little clearer to the eye, though no brighter, merely more… interesting.

Of course, they weren’t the only ones, there were a handful of black and white armoured guards. But it was far from what one might call a full staff. Despite this, they were brisk, and eager to make their way to the palace.

OOCness: For vague ideas of costuming;
Sirithil (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/30134699/), Maglor (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/44357746/), Serendis (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/45750973/), Culdalot (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/36220850/), Glorfindel (http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/43995805/).

Siobhan waved a hand dismissively at the apology and refinement of title. While rank was also important in Gaelic society, she personally was unconcerned. Given her state and standing, there could be no confusion within Gaeltach of her status. Among the lesser consulates, however, all the honorifics were greedily held and displayed. It was a throwback to older times, when claims to royal blood could improve one's family standing.

"Titles are nothing but words, Princess. The meaning is all the same if you dig deep enough."

She smiled warmly and turned her attention to the Duke. Finn knew the glint now in her eye well. Siobhan always had been one for mischeif, given the appropriate circumstances.

"Yes, my Lord Dunerbridge, that is how it should work. But alliance is such a fragile and ill-defined thing. Take my ancestor for example. Of all the many sons, how would you choose which was the rightful heir?"

The question was delivered casually enough, but was there a challenge buried somewhere in the softness of her tone? Finn averted his gaze for a moment. He was trying to keep from smiling.

A Comedic Cloakroom Coda

"And what really irritates me, is that I'm constnatly depicted as the lone hero in these things..." Glorfindel groused, speaking of computer games featuring him, "Alas, it's rare that I'm actually the one who goes out doing the riding and fighting these days."

"Beats my roles. I forget the number of times they've had me as a hostile character in those things. I think it's about five..." They looked around, taking their cloaks off, "Like it?" he added, looking around.

"Yes. I'll find the bar, you find the women, oh, and see if they've got gambling," Glorfindel said in quiet Quenya.

"The dignity of Noldorin princes..." Ranisath lamented, before being cut off.

"...has always been exxaggerated." Maglor said.

"Try not to be hideously embarassing," The C'tan said, shaking his head.

"We're never embarassing," Maglor protested.

"Merely..." Glorfindel added.

"Enthusiastic..."

"Yes, I like Enthusiastic. That's what we are. See you in ten minutes..."

Lorain's almost-marching style softened as she reached a spot within a comfortable distance of Nathicana herself, her gaze falling on the children huddled against her. Lorain, never having been a mother herself, can't quite understand this, but she recognizes the fear in their eyes, and so steps back a little and smiles at them in a genuine fashion, albiet a little awkwardly.

Sharply glancing to the side at her 'escort', she feels compelled to tap at the chip placed in the fabric of her uniform which provokes a soft, reassuring Beep. Please be aware that this is a Class Two wireless network communications device and that a device capable of recieving data in a local wireless standard is a requirement. Beep.

Lorain's gaze returns to Nathicana and she bows in a short and sharp but sincere manner before remarking, in english,

"Imperiatrice, It is an honour to meet you-"
She glances at the children and the people around her..
"-And your entourage. If I seem to have been following you for any undue reason, I apologize. I am merely interested in the manner with which you and the others here conduct yourselves, and the diplomatic niceties and wall of politeness you put up over the..possibly less savoury aspects of your actions and, if nothing else, walking alone to pay our respects to this new queen is unnattractive, is it not?."

She of course fails to mention why she knows this-she doesn't entirely, but she has a vague idea after having dealt with many similar but not quite people in her past. She bows her head slightly in an old fashion, which tradition dictates indicates an equal's submission in conversation to another of equal standing. The only sign of any possible discomfort is her tapping of the jewel rolling about in her hand, a soft purple glow the only sign of activity.

This is probably where someone with tact would leave well enough alone, assuming they were paying attention. Il Sultano, on the other hand, metaphorically couldn't spell 'tact' if you spotted him three letters and hasn't been paying the least bit of attention to the conversation between the two birds and their associated task forces.

"Hey, baby, it looks like we has us a nice little gathering here, y'know!" He puffs happily on his hundred-dollar cigarette, tromping up and looking appropriately joyous if anonymous due to his massive, blocky sunglasses. A flick of his hands later means he's proffering business cards to both Lorain and Nathi, with a complete disregard for butting into their conversation. "Good time for people to get together under God's good ol' yellow sun and get away from bizness. Name's Venditti, by the way, baby. Bonsignore Venditti, Il Sultano of Moneylaunderingstan. You may've seen our ads on tee-vee or in the newspaper." He grins crookedly, mostly out of the habit of having to keep that cigarette bogarted on his lips, and laughs crookedly, because, well, he is.

He glances over at Lorain. "Love the ears, baby."

Victor grumbled under his breath, checking his watch for what seemed to be the twentieth time. He stubbed out the cigarette he had been smoking and paced the small cabin impatiently. Normally, he was utterly unflappable, but Josef had dropped a bomb on him this time...


"Josef, when I retired, I meant that I would no longer be head of state."

"Yes, but Elisa and I are busy. Besides, you're... ah... a senior statesman."

"That is a cop-out and you know it, Josef."

"Yeah, but you always liked this sort of thing and miss it."

"Bastard."


And so, here he was, on a crummy Federation jet. Running late. This was mostly Josef's fault, really. Victor had assumed that the ball was in a month, or at least a week. No, it was that night. He lit another cigarette, swearing colorfully in his long dead native tongue and checked his watch. Again. He was just about to storm the cockpit and yell at the pilot (again), when the intercom clicked on, informing him that they were (finally) making their final approach.

Nathi at first inclines her head in acknowledgement on Lorain’s initial greeting, though her brow arches slightly at the ‘following’ comment, going up further at the ‘manner of conduct’ bit, her other brow joining the other at the ‘wall of politeness’ part and climbing alarmingly at the ‘less savoury’ comment. Admittedly, it had been rather a long time since the last time someone had managed to be so insulting on so many levels in such a short time.

The one that sprang to mind in particular had their polished skull encased in amber displayed in her office. A … thoughtful gift from friends who 'understood'.

Of course, this was neither the time nor place for such direct approaches. She bites back the first response that leapt to mind, along the lines of 'unattractiveness', working to keep her legendary temper in check. The children, after all – both of whom are now looking up at the stranger with eyes wide, glancing between her and their mother with a knowing look of ‘oooooh, you are so busted’.

Gianni groans quietly, stepping back slightly and watching with all the expectation of one knowing there’s about to be a train wreck, but unable to stop it, and hoping fervently that this won’t be as bad as he fears.

Naiya for her part seems a bit more annoyed, if that were the right word for it, her blue eyes fixing the woman with an unnaturally piercing gaze the next time she looks back at her, watching without blinking. Marcus is busy trying to stifle a giggle, always amused when it’s someone else in trouble, as is often the way with young children. To his credit, he’d learned to hide it fairly well, aside from the occasional twitch of his lips, and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Of course, Il Sultano chooses this moment to introduce himself, which for Lorain’s sake, is probably for the best. The security team’s alert status had gone up the minute those two appeared on the scene, and having them waltz on up like this has several of them, Jas in particular, a mite … concerned. The Enforcer, for one thing. A very big and intimidating one thing, mind. The somewhat familiar if flamboyant style of Il Sultano for another. And then there’s the name, which registers with at least a couple of them.

There’s a flicker of recognition in Nathi’s blue eyes, and she perhaps surprisingly accepts the card between her first and second fingertips with a carefully-sculpted smile and a slight flourish, ignoring Lorain for the moment.

“Buongiorno, Signori - piacere. I hope the business is thriving, and the Family is well,” she says smoothly, scanning from tip to toe and back with an appraising look. “Nathicana D’Aquisto, Dread Lady and First Imperatrice of the Dominion,” she continues, her inflection and posture, for anyone used to subtleties, making it clear the full title is for Lorain’s sake more than anything. “My children, Naiya and Marcus,” she goes on, glancing at each of them proudly, “and of course, my staff,” she concludes, the hand holding the card gesturing with a graceful twist of the wrist to indicate the nearby black-clad security team and Gianni, who is still looking as if he’d rather be anywhere but the here and now.

“My apologies, Signore – a bit of unfinished business, then I would be happy to hear further thoughts on this rather pleasant gathering,” she offers to the slick man, with a slight inclination of her head and a reasonably apologetic smile. In the same motion, she signals Gianni with one hand, and steps towards Lorain, leaving him to gather up the children.

Striding forward meaningfully, rising up to her full unimpressive height of one hundred fifty-two centimeters or so, her bearing making it clear that she’s looking down her nose, rather than up at the taller woman, she brings herself as close as possible without touching, chin tilted up in that imperious way those familiar with her know all too well to stare the other woman down.

Her blue eyes flash with both challenge and anger, her before-now carefully hidden smile showing an ample amount of white teeth, which she speaks from between as she maintains what equates for her to a ‘kzin grin’, keeping her words quick and quiet, intended for Lorain alone as best she can manage.

“I don’t know who you are, or who you think you are, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and be insulted by you this way, especially in front of my children. What you are experiencing now is that ‘wall of politeness’ you mentioned earlier. And let me be perfectly clear when I say that were we in my nation, where it is thought of as good manners to at least introduce oneself before hurling daggers, and were the little ones not present, I’d be using your guts for garters by now. Insult me or mine like this again, and I promise you, we will invent some ‘less savory aspects’ for you to experience, at our leisure. I trust that clarity is achieved?” she says without batting an eye.

“If so, I will consider this matter closed for now, and will walk away confident that you have taken these words to heart, and will be more judicious in your phrasings when next we speak – if indeed we do speak again.”

Taking a step back, and offering a more pleasant smile, and a gentle batting of eyelashes, looking for all the world as if she were bidding farewell to a good friend, Nathicana nods her head, almost imperceptibly.

“Ciao,” she says simply, then gracefully turns and saunters back to the group, her expression still frightfully pleasant, gesturing idly with the business card. Clearly, a dismissal. The subtle shifting in position of the security detail only serves to confirm.

“Again, my apologies. You were saying, Signore Venditti?”

Jerrick was an interesting anachronism in the garden. The majority of the occupents were dressed ass the royalty that they were, with flowing gowns and outfits befitting of their social class and structure. The design of the garden was as well matching of the dresses and outfits, adding to an air of almost classical existence.

When he had first entered the garden, as old habbits die hard, he quickly took in the garden in a somewhat tactical glance, quickly sizing up a number of the individuals, including the guards, and noting the best areas to stand and move should anything happen. After that, he managed to return to a relxed pose, enjoying the garden for what it was. He also noticed the arrival of the two Moneylaunderingstan.

He first noticed the big one taking in Wickwire, almost as if he were sizing him up. He didn't return the direct look, but instead indirectly sized up the Enforcer as well. He paused where he was standing, leaning back against a statue. It pulled his polo back, and his only tattoo started peaking out from underneath the shirt. He watched as Il Sutlano approached a conversing pair, butting in. He almost chuckled, but instead let out only a small smile cross his face.

"This should be interesting," he chuckled under his breath. He adjusted his stance, kicking up his left leg and placing his foot against the statue. He crossed his arms, and watched with interest. The display managed to move on with little incident, with one of the two females adressing the other in a quick, curt manner befitting of a well earned dismisall. He wasn't sure what was said or why, but he knew something was indeed said. He mentally made a note to remeber all of this for a later date, reminding himself about the value of not upholding cultural relativism, and mentally applauding the women who he had no clue was the Dread Lady for her assumed telling off of an insulter.

"Bambinos!" is of course Bonsignore's traditional response to being introduced to the kids. "I had heard, but not seen. There's a definite family ressemblance, I tell you what, my good Dread Lady. Imperatrice, you say? Ah yeah, 'Tonio the Scar was tellin' me 'bout that. 'S been a while, hadn't it--been cooped up too long on artificial land held together by rust and stickytape down in the sunny South Pacific, haven't visited anything like the proper old country in years."

Tact he may not have; survival instinct, however, is something that Piranha has honed to a razor's edge. While the Dread Lady tells off the immortal he stands back, well out of the vision cone of the Lady. That she has such an array of titles, to a self-proclaimed Sultan of the Human Vice-Powered Sultanate, means something. He's played the game, oh yes, and she's apparently an avid player as well. Venditti does glance over at The Enforcer, though, and smirks with a little 'rawr'-ing grimace as he curls his hand in a parody of claws--albeit still in his pocket.

The Enforces chuckles and nods, the trained gorilla observing the overall scene rather than the specifics of the little spat. He nods at the khaki guy with a smirk, as if to say 'aren't I near the center of attention, hmm? What's your angle?' in as polite a way as professional thugs are capable.

"Yeah, baby," Il Sultano says to Lorain with a disarming smile, "it's not good to make the Dread Lady so angry. Our womenfolk have a reputation for being, ah, zesty, and for good reason. 'Sides, it's not good to get someone so angry, especially a mama in front of her bambinos." He cants his head just a little chidingly. "Mama bear and baby bears, if you get my meaning--and not to say you're a bear, Dread Lady, 's just a metaphor." He grins an expensive off-white grin. His teeth are remarkably clean for a chain smoker, and they're straight. Those two qualities are what makes his grin expensive.

Back to said Dread Lady. "Oh, wasn't sayin' nothin' in particular, 'cept about what a beautiful day it is to have a party. Looked like you two had a little conversation goin' and I figgered I could step in and, y'know, partake of the joys of friendly company." When he smiles, the lyrics of Mack the Knife may come to mind. "Anyways, always good to meet a fine customer of customers, all in the chain of right proper God-fearing bizness."

Jerrick nodded slightly back at the Enforcer, tilting his head slightly to right as he did, acting both as a greating as well as an acknowledgment of the Enforcer. It was a nod that made it generally known that Wickwire knew where the Enforcer was comming from. It was the nod oft shared by the more quiet profesionals, those whose wardrobe was made up mostly of t-shirts recieved when someone had 'been there and done that'.

He stayed back, letting Il Sultano chat with the Dread Lady, someone he would have to introduce himself to eventually. Of course, that was his reason for being here, introductions, elbow rubbing, mingling, and the like. It was something that he had always been good at, and a trait that had allowed him to make it this far in his respective field. Of course, he would also have to introduce himself to Il Sultano, if not at least the Enforcer, before taking his leave.

He just reclined in his position, observing the goings on around him, and enjoying the weather.

"Yes, my Lord Dunerbridge, that is how it should work. But alliance is such a fragile and ill-defined thing. Take my ancestor for example. Of all the many sons, how would you choose which was the rightful heir?"

If there was a trap, Dunerbridge didn't sense it.

"Quite naturally, your Majesty, and not knowing anything more of the conflict than what you have just told me, I should not have found my loyalties conflicted. The eldest legitimate son ought to have been the new High King."

Alice, who had been momentarily distracted by the growing gathering of people across the gardens, focused back onto the conversation before the Duke had a chance to further embarrass her by going on to point out his opinions on primogeniture and, by extension, how he considered Iansisle's common law superior.

“Indeed, your Grace,” she said, “but issues are so often clouded .”

The Duke looked about ready to respond, but Alice interrupted him, looking back at Siobhan. “If you’ll permit me to say, Your Majesty, you remind me in many ways of my brother James. He had similarly enlightened views on tradition and etiquette.”

Hook set, line ready. TIme to test the waters.

The security team keeps a sharp eye on things as Gianni keeps the children busy off to the side, examining one of the more colorful flowerbeds, though Naiya cast the occasional thoughtful glance at one stranger or other in the general vicinity, whenever they came within line of sight. Jas continues to calmly smoke his trademark clove cigarette, never taking it from his lips, taking in the scene looking relaxed, yet alert.

Mas and Pascali tactfully keep their commentary to themselves, knowing all to well how quickly their employer’s displeasure can switch targets if provoked, and being just fine with monitoring the strange woman who’d had the misfortune of drawing her ire, rightly earned though it may be.

Nathi smiles demurely as Il Sultano chastises Lorain further, pointedly trying not to draw further attention with any more response, though she offers him one of her more charming smiles when he's finished. “No offense taken, Il Sultano,” she says in a way that has the last two words rolling off her tongue. “An … apt appraisal, after all.”

She couldn’t help but sort of like the guy, in one of those ‘you slick bastard’ sort of ways. Wouldn’t trust him further than she could spit of course, but you had to admire the balls on this guy. How did that saying go? ‘The sort that wouldn’t sell his mother into slavery … so long as he could make a better profit renting her out.’ Mmmm. That’d be it.

“Friendly company is always a pleasure to enjoy,” Nathi continues smoothly, before taking a moment to ponder thoughtfully. “Tonio, you said. Doesn’t happen to have a … cousin, perhaps? In ah … shipping? Regardless, glad you’ve managed to get away from the office. I know I’d never manage without the occasional excursion. I’m sure, should your business ever take you to the Dominion, that you won’t hesitate to call ahead so we might afford you the same courtesy we do all businessmen who pay us visit? Barring that, I hear Rome is beautiful this time of year … They say getting out and about now and then is good for your health.”

Business is business, just don’t make it my problem – loud and clear, no doubt. I wonder if he’s the same one I’ve heard mentioned. Dangerous son of a bitch. Damn shame I could never afford him exclusively.

So many guests, she had noted as they first walked through the gardens. She almost regretted the unfortunate incident earlier on account. Almost. She’d have to be sure to try and meet the others at some point during the trip. There were a lot of unfamiliar faces – an excellent opportunity to do the meeting and greeting she enjoyed.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess he does. Small world, innit?" Il Sultano flashes his sharky grin again. "I'll be sure to call ahead, no problems. If you 'n yours ever need anything arranged on your end, things ya need to find or mayhaps kept from bein' too easily access'ble, other such stuff, well, you know where to call." He nods for just a moment towards his business card. "No client too big or small, after all. Heh heh."

So yeah, a sales pitch, but a soft one.

“Nothing like going direct,” Nathi replies with a slight wink, tucking the card away. “Sometimes middlemen just complicate things, other times …” A subtle shrug and a smile. “Grazie. Bene grazie. Small world indeed.”

Arrival of Princess Ameria Wasterin

The Princess's motorcade of her Adinas Star Coach limousine, polished black, arrived at the Maple Palace along with the four Royal Guard motorcycle escort, and black SUV with other guards arrived at the Maple Palace.

The Royal Guard emerged from the black SUV and stepped over to the limousine, as the door slid upward sideways in a modern style of its own accord.

Princess Ameria Wasterin stepped out wearing an gorgeous deep purple silken V-neck gown exposing her back, and a silk purple shawl. Gracing her wrist was an watch of all glittering diamonds, even the numbers on the face were in diamonds. It was quiet the piece. Around her neck was an diamond teardrop necklace elegantly designed by the Royal Jeweler.

Accompanying her was the couple of Ambassador Gefron Osiaun, and his own wife Leloren Osiaun. The Ambassador and his wife were both in their sixties. The Ambassador had the appearance of a dignified diplomat, white hair cut in a business style, and his wife had her graying hair tied up in a bun. Ambassador Osiaun was wearing an modern cut of the black tuxedo, and his wife was wearing an dark blue dress that draped elegantly with ruffles at the bottom. Both had an olive tanned looking skin tone, and features. They were Eastern Aerionian(Mixture of Native American and Arabic in looks).

Along with them was the Royal Guard Captain Daerin, chief of the Princess's security detail for this event as well as her personal bodyguard to an extent. He was an tall African-Aerionian man, wearing the pristine burgundy dress uniform of the Royal Guard with gold pleats and the crest of the Royal Family.

Two more Royal Guard wearing the dress uniform accompanied the detail, though even in dress uniform quiet affective with bulletproof vests underneath no doubt. Four Royal Guard with plain black suits ties had also accompanied them, but had spread out among the crowd, and blended presumably with the other security details present for the other dignitaries.

The Princess, and her entourage stepped into the gardens. The Ambassador's wife Leloren mumbled, "Quiet the interesting architecture, and people..." She glanced around at the cats people present. The Ambassador knew his wife was a traditionalist, typical of the older Aerionian high society types that fell into the common stereotype where older Aerionian high society mimicked French and British high society. They often tended to be a bit specist.

The Princess simply smiled, and arched her shaped eyebrow, "Indeed, interesting.." She smiled a gracious, yet somewhat fake smile at those around.

http://i27.photobucket.com/albums/c193/athell/Princess.jpg

HRH Princess Ameria Wasterin
Lady High Chancellor of the Grand Kingdom

(She is wearing a purple dress and jewelry for this event, however.)
NS Wiki:Princess Ameria Wasterin (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Ameria_Wasterin)

"Humn, what's this?" Lirella questioned, though there was no one else in particular to be addressing such speech to... "A masquerade, hmmm..."

Of course, as the Kajali Head of State, her mailbox was understandably full, and she didn't often have time to sort through it. Also scattered across the dedicated mail room were, of course, numerous requests for blessings, opening malls, appearing on a vidcast...

Of course, there was the slight issue of the chain of events that unfolded at the last masquerade she attended.

Ranisath would remember that one, of course. It'd be hard for most people to forget, too, when that gunship flipped and exploded in the downtown core outside the Roanian Palace.

And as such, a hasty response was drafted, noting, of course, that this festival was likely already underway. Maybe the recipient had head ware, maybe not. If she was going to crash a party, the least she could do is attempt to send a warning before hand, and apologize upon arrival in that she had only received this invitation most recently, due to the volume of correspondence she was normally burdened with.

The preparations consisted primarily of selecting appropriate wear, of course, seeing as her "personal shuttle" was, in actuality, more of a corvette, and itself already stocked for a six month voyage out beyond the rim that was scheduled for next month.

To Julian Kane, Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy,

I regret the haste with which this response must arrive, though I must admit that it had been lost somewhat in the continuing deluge of writing I often find myself in receivership of. That said, I would be honored to be able to attend your festival, despite the lateness of this response, as I do believe that many persons have already arrived.

My party is to be comprised of myself (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Lirella_Keral), Vierun Muraan (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Vierun_Muraan), Prime-Minister Nominate, my daughter, Ilunaia Keral-Kavar (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Ilunaia_Kavar), the Duchess of Kajal Mars, Her Highness Lady Illaan Mulai Soryaan (http://ns.goobergunch.net/wiki/index.php/Illaan_Soryaan), and my personal aides, numbering no more than three, and a security detail of six. If there are any specifics requiring discussion, we would be happy to review such requirements, in all due haste.

No specific accommodation is necessary, though if our craft cannot put down reasonably near, if rooms are available and appropriate to accommodate the number in my party, it would be appreciated.

Again, My apologies for my late response. I hope it is not too much to assume a welcoming response, as I write this as I am en-route. With any luck, I would hope to arrive before the main event concludes.

May the seraai grant you grace and health,

Her Imperial Highness, Lady Lirella Meraia Keral

Now, usually, setting a craft about a hundred meters long down in someone's lawn is... not appreciated. Hopefully they'd actually make it there with time for proper parking arrangements.

Meanwhile, the nanolathes aboard ships (recently purchased from a certain Scolopendran corporation) were working overtime to create outfits for this event. Her Imperial Highness had selected something rather startlingly different from her usual attire, in that it afforded a more modest appearance (though, really, compared to her "usual attire", bedsheets were more modest), though still elaborate (http://palara.sularan.net/gallery/albums/harem/lfw_mandira18.jpg). Notably missing, of course, was an odd headpiece. That ought to throw them all for a loop, she had thought.

Not to be outdone, and in an odd role-reversal, Soryaan's attire did have an odd headpiece (http://palara.sularan.net/gallery/albums/harem/lfw_mandira3.jpg), and she would no doubt spend all night fiddling with it. Ilunaia's selection seemed to bridge the two, being both darker and lighter, and more exotic and conservative (http://palara.sularan.net/gallery/albums/harem/lfw_fspeacock3.jpg), respectively.

For the men? The seemingly internationally standard tuxedo would suffice, though they wore them in classic Kajali style, with a slightly higher than average collar and a longer, narrower jacket than might have been expected.

Now, to go about landing a spacecraft at an airport... It was always tricker than one thought, since normally, one was still expected to behave, well, as an aircraft.

Even if the craft in question didn't have wings. (http://palara.sularan.net/gallery/view_photo.php?set_albumName=ships&id=landed)

In all the conversation carried on after the little 'incident', Lorain hadn't moved an inch, not a whisper, not a breath. Even her hair had stop waving in the wind, everything about her simply seeming to freeze in place.
Child, you have no idea what you are dealing with nor what you have just done. She thought to herself, wrapped up in her own thoughts of vengeance. the air around her smelling of your stereotypical devils fire the more she got arked up about it. As one second passed into the next, the glow from the jewel grew brighter, crawling up her arm as one would expect 'grey goo' to.

These days, she never really uses her powers, so to speak, the time and place for such things is long gone in the mists of history, but every so often, someone, somewhere does something to cause her to, and the results are never good, for others, mostly, but occasionally, for her too.

This is one of those times. As her skin starts to take on an otherworldly glow, somewhere deep in what used to be her good side starts going Hey. What're you doing there. Would leopardwoman like this? Would she approve of what you're thinking of doing? Turn around. Disappear. You can still enjoy yourself here, no need to cause a scene.

If others in visual range haven't noticed the activity-they won't anymore, as she simply vanishes out of sight in the blink of an eye as if she had only been a mirror image and someone misplaced the mirror, the only remains being a sudden feeling that it was just a little too late out to be out here, regardless of the actual time of day.

She's still there, she's still at the party, so to speak, she just needs a little time to herself, time to think and calm down. But make no mistake, she will be watching this particular Dominioner and her little party, one way or the other, and if nothing else, she is exceedingly patient when it comes to waiting for her time to air her grievances. No harm is meant, no anger anymore, and the end result of her time 'away' can only be good and peaceful for all concerned, at least for the duration of this gathering.

Siobhan watched the exchange between them with guarded amusement. She could have pursued the matter, but the Princess had already demonstrated she would not leave the Duke to twist in the breeze, and she had no desire to embarass anyone. She had noted with some personal amusement that he sided with the eldest son, when it was the nephew who assumed the position and carried the rule through her line of Kelly's.

Finn had been watching the growing group a slight ways distant and visibly tensed at the threat of confrontation. But just as quickly he calmed himself as the situation seemed to dissipate, allowing Siobhan to remain at ease. But her own gaze flickered over the group briefly before reengaging with Alice. She had mentioned her brother James.

The name registered a tiny flicker of recognition, but she couldn't place the meaning. Wasn't that the very name mentioned at one of the foreign activities briefings? Unable to attach significance to the name and inwardly irritated by that fact, she took it in stride.

"Enlightenment... I'd hardly call it that! There's a bit of the devil in each of us, I dare say."

Siobhan smiled, the expression carrying a touch of some apologetic quality.

"If your honored brother and I share traits, then perhaps our nations are more alike than I had thought. Although I must confess, I'm not sure if this is good or bad for either of us."

The Highguard at the Palace gates, resplendent in their shining white uniforms, bowed stiffly to the Alexandrian monarch.

"Imperial Majesty," their leader said, "You are expected and welcome here. If you would wait momentarily, I shall summon someone to show you to your suite ..."

That "someone", of course, was yet another of the ubiquitous Companions (the House of Companions having clearly emptied its halls for this event), who led George Helios and his ministers through the Palace to the elegantly appointed suite reserved for their use.

---
To Her Imperial Highness, Lady Lirella Mereia Keral;

We would of course be honoured to have your attendance at the Festival of Landfall, although regretfully the Palace has no landing spaces for a craft of the dimensions you have specified. I shall arrange for your reception at Katagan International Airport, and accommodations in the Maple Palace.

Sincerely,

Julian Kane
Chancellor of the Federal Monarchy
---

Waiting on the tarmac for the Kajali was another of the Companions, wearing a sleeveless blue cheongsam (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qipao) matching her dyed hair, which was pinned up with a succession of long ivory hairpins stuck horizontally through it.

Although it didn't show on her face, she was surely wondering - as the entirety of Katagan Internation air traffic control must be - how the bizarre craft flew; New Katagan prided itself on its innovative air force, but this ship was like nothing she'd ever seen. She hadn't expected space aliens to attend the Festival; nobody had.

That the space aliens happened to look nearly identical to subcontinental humans made it rather less astounding.

"Imperial Highness," she said, bowing, "You are welcome in New Katagan. The Lady Alannis hopes that you shall find the Festival of Landfall entertaining. If you will follow her, she will take you to the suite allotted to you in the Maple Palace, so that you might prepare for the evening's festivities."

She gestured towards the waiting limousine, pulled up nearby on the tarmac.

---

OOC: The Most Glorious Hack, do you need Ye Olde Standard Greeting at Ye Airport? Feel free to post your character(s) directly at the Palace - as a matter of fact, I encourage it.

Almost, but not quite, thought Alice. Everyone here has an ulterior motive, I’m certain. Her brown eyes flitted for just the briefest moment to Il Sultano. Some are more obvious than others. Does Siobhan sense mine?

Her delicate agenda was made no easier by the presence of Lord Dunerbridge. Foppish, overbearing, and undiplomatic, he was a cross for her to bear rather than an asset. She wished that her sister had seen fit to dispatch Lord Evanpass, her dashing young favorite, instead. Then again, Alice thought, imagining Evanpass’ roguish smile, twinkling blue eyes, and quick wit, perhaps it is better for the Cause that Richard was left in Valinon.

But she was wandering off in the middle of the most delicate part of the conversation! Desperately aware that seconds were ticking away, Alice thought back to Siobhan’s exact words. “ "If your honored brother and I share traits, then perhaps our nations are more alike than I had thought. Although I must confess, I'm not sure if this is good or bad for either of us.”

Those were awfully noncommittal. The use of the present tense was hopeful: it implied that Siobhan was ignorant of James’ fate. The shock of regicide was still available to her diplomatic arsenal, even if the callousness of its use repulsed her slightly. It wasn’t that Alice didn’t miss her brother or desperately miss him, of course! It was just that, to have any hope of revenging herself on the Godless republic, she must capitalize on that grief while attempting to pretend not to be. Alice affected a sad smile and willed just the smallest bit of water to the corner of her eyes.

“I meant it only as a compliment, your Majesty. James --” she paused as if lost for words. “James was a good man,” she finished awkwardly, laying undue stress on the syllable ‘was’ Not enough, Alice hoped, that it would be noticed consciously, but enough for Siobhan to wonder about the tense in the back of her mind.

"Hmmm, thank you sir; this room is very good; my delegation and I will be very pleased."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Well, Jimbo, this is quite a suite, would you not agree"

"Yes, Sir, the best I have been in in years. Anyway, we better get dressed for this occasion"

The delegation was to dress as various people in the Empire's history. In the end, His Majesty was to be dressed as Emperor George the Great; his great-great-grandfather, and the man he was named after. He pulled his tights up and tied the ends of his breeches, got his mask and once everyone was ready, proceeded down to where the masquerade was.

OOC: A quick note before I go sleep; the Masquerade itself is after the dinner. For the dinner, wear a tux or a gown or whatever you'd normally wear; the Masquerade's the one you get to go all out on. If you turn up to the dinner dressed as a character from history, you're going to get odd looks (and the servants shall despair of seating you properly).

“Nothing like going direct,” Nathi replies with a slight wink, tucking the card away. “Sometimes middlemen just complicate things, other times …” A subtle shrug and a smile. “Grazie. Bene grazie. Small world indeed.”
Il Sultano bows a little, but somehow manages to make the gesture not look like any form of obeisance known to man. "And, hey, it looks like the party's starting to swing with all the beautiful people, as they say. Now that the place's fillin' up, I figger it's only 'propriate that we help make a small world smaller, so to speak, eh? So many people to see, and bizness to do, neh?"

With a gesture of his hand that's somewhere between a two-fingered salute and a wave, Venditti grins at Nathi. "Ciao, Dread Lady," is his parting before he saunters off, hands in pockets, and trained gorilla in tow. Time to find someone else to make contacts with and who may need proper business done... 'cause all these rich folks, they got skeletons, and it never hurts to have a quiet avenue to make transactions or maybe a little nest egg without any particular cobwebs of history attached.

Jerrick watched the final exchange with some interest, his eyes still darting around the garden in view, watching the numerous conversations. Hold habits do die hard, and he would never be one to get past his need to observe everything. He noticed something out of the corner of his eye from the woman with whom the two Italians had been speaking with, but he had put it off to the side as a trick of the light. Maybe the way the sun reflected off one of the pools or wind going through the trees.

He then noticed the exchange of a business card, and mentally tagged Il Sultano as a business man, not much unlike himself. However, while he felt Il Sultano and he may be in the same area of work, he also felt that the legality may be in question. Then again, many questioned the legality about a private military. Still, one was here not to judge and condem, but to make contacts, rub elbows, and maybe a few deals.

Wickwire pushed himself up from the leaning position on the statue, and made his way towards Il Sultano and the Dread Lady. He did not resigning himself to speak with one or the other, but to just move in that direction. Whichever he ended up talking to first would be up fate.

Having their target disappear is of course the last thing the security detail wants, and the hand signals and quick messages over Spook reflect their concern, with further details coming in over the integrated lenses of the dark glasses they wear. Looking good is one thing – functionality while doing so, priceless. Failing to locate the target through any of their mundane means, the word goes out.

<<La strega. We’ve got ourselves a jinx, boys and girls - heads up.>>

“Ciao, Il Sultano,” Nathi replies with a knowing sort of smile and a wave of her fingertips, even as the warning comes over the line. “And happy hunting.”

Looking around to see where Gianni and the children have gotten to, she again takes note of the other guests, trying to plot a course so to speak. Occult and other unusual abilities were simply a fact of life in the circles she operated in, though it didn’t make her feel any better about it most of the time. There were ways around – usually involving a bullet to the brain or other such measures – but it wasn’t pleasant to ponder in any case.

Gianni is crouched down with the children, pointing out a caterpillar they’d discovered, and talking to them quietly about it, the two of them chatting excitedly about it and the recent goings on.

“Gianni,” Naiya says in a charmingly disarming tone. “Do you think that woman was naughty?”

“I think that maybe she and your mother had a … misunderstanding,” the man replies, offering the little girl a reassuring smile.

“But why would she say we were bad people?” the girl persisted, fixing him with one of those thoughtful stares.

Gianni blinks, running the conversation from earlier back through his mind, trying to figure out how the girl had seen through to that. “Well, I … I don’t really know, Naiya. You noticed her accent, yes? Perhaps she has a hard time with making her words say the right things.”

The little girl shakes her head and frowns slightly. “No, she said what she meant. She thinks we do bad things, and are liars.”

“No, no Naiya, you’re letting your imagination run away with you again,” Gianni says quickly, giving the girl a gentle hug around the shoulders. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding. Those things happen sometimes with grown-ups.”

“Like when mama and papa fight, and they tell us it’s nothing, even when we heard, like last time?” Marcus pipes up, gently prodding the caterpillar with one tiny finger. Naiya frowns a bit more at that, and gives her brother a little pat on the shoulder.

“It’s ok that Devon doesn’t like me,” she says, quietly reassuring. “You’re still my brother, no matter what he said.”

“I know,” Marcus replies with his usual grin, the matter soon forgotten as he impulsively gives his sister a hug and turns his attention back to the caterpillar.

It’s easy to forget how sensitive she is to people’s moods, and how well she grasps situations, Gianni ponders, patting Naiya’s shoulder again gently as he gets to his feet. It was the main ongoing problem at the villa, really. Parentage and the stresses surrounding it. He hadn’t understood how in hell it could be managed until they’d done further research on the matter, and found that superfecundation (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Superfecundation) was an all too real, if rare condition. All other concerns aside, it explained perfectly how it happened that twins could have the same mother, yet different fathers – not that it helped the situation at all.

Things might have been different if not for the troubles between the two fathers in question. As it stood, Devon flatly refused to accept Naiya as anything but Nathi’s unfortunate daughter, dealing with the situation as distantly as he could manage, while lavishing his time and attention on his son, Marcus. In spite of this, the twins had as close a relationship as one might imagine. And now that they were older, and both understood better and could vocalize their feelings on the situation more clearly, it was not uncommon to find them comforting one another, or reassuring each other of things, especially after a visit from Devon, or when Marcus came home from visiting his father in his nation.

For Gianni, when those times cropped up, it was heartbreaking. Naiya never displayed any anger or hatred towards Devon – who she carefully avoided referring to as ‘papa’ after the first time she’d slipped. In spite of everything, she still seemed to quietly hope for some validation or other, using whatever sixth sense she had to deftly avoid more potentially volatile situations, and try to take advantage of the times the man seemed less inclined to open dislike of her.

“Everything alright here,” Nathi says as she approaches the trio. “Sorry about that little scene, and thank you for getting the bambinos well out of the way. Seems there’s always someone at these things.”

“Oh yes, all’s well,” Gianni assures her, smiling away his concerns for the moment, and gesturing to the little ones. “Caterpillar. We’ll have to take care that no ‘pets’ make their way to the dinner table at this rate. It simply wouldn’t do to have creepy crawlies invading neighbor’s dinner plates.”

“Agreed,” she says with a grin. “So long as they are having fun.”

“Mama!” Naiya exclaims, jumping up to give her mother a quick hug. “You know,” she continues, peeking around to follow Il Sultano’s departure thoughtfully. “That man smiles too much.”

“Yes, yes he does,” Nathi replies, laughing softly. “He’s the sort that if you shake hands, you’d best check to make sure you still have all your fingers after.”

“He ‘minds me of those guys in those movies you got mad at me for watching. The ones with the guns and the money and the women and like that?” the little girl asks, looking up, one brow arched.

“Exactly like,” Nathicana says, nodding and smiling. “Which is why little girls need to be careful around men who smile like that, capisci?”

On seeing Wickwire walking in their direction, she breaks off the conversation, and nods to the man in greeting, smiling pleasantly.

“Buongiorno, Signore,” she says, resting her hand on Naiya’s shoulder as she takes in the measure of him, leaving it up to him whether or not to engage in further conversation.

"I meant it only as a compliment, your Majesty. James --" she paused as if lost for words. "James was a good man."

The use of past tense had definately caught Siobhan's attention. Alice was behaving in a fashion with which Siobhan was well accustomed. It was almost as if she wanted the Sovereigness to probe that thread of conversation. Siobhan narrowed her eyes shrewdly, studying the woman. Finn's attention had strayed back to the sharky looking fellow, but she could tell he was still listening. She decided that given the girl's behaviour, the death must have been fairly recent. Those dealing with grief often wished to share their tale with others, but were unable to delve into the topic without a bit of encouragement. Sometimes cursed with a soft heart, she was a natural listener for those in need.

"Oh.. I'm terribly sorry Princess. ...if it isn't too rude my asking, what happened to him?"

And while it might be nothing but grief over the death of a family member, something about the conversation warned her to be passively on guard. Why suggest commonality between herself and the departed? If it was some sort of loosely veiled threat, Siobhan was almost more curious to discover the source. In any case, she had decided to pursue the topic and see where the path led.

Princess Ameria made her way through the groups of cat people in the garden, grabbing a glass of wine or whatever it was being served from a tray.

The Ambassador did like-wise, but his wife abstained. He glanced at the man that was speaking to Nathicana, and mumbled a few words to the Princess who nodded knowingly. The man was obviously an unsavory businessman, which while not uncommon in the Grand Kingdom generally took the form of megacorporate executives who kept an less criminal appearance.

The Princess smoothed part of her deep purple gown, and took an sip of her wine in an elegant slow gesture. She scanned the crowd with her striking green eyes, falling upon the Dread Lady.

She made her way toward Nathicana, with the Ambssador, his wife. Captain Daerin and the two Royal Guard in dress uniform accompanied them.

Steven and Lostelle walked down into the garden where all the other guests had been gathering. They both grabbed some wine off a try but, neither drank any.

Lostelle scanned the crowd for a friendly face.

Buongiorno, Signore.

Jerrick stopped, and nodded a polite nod towards Nathicana. He wasn't exactly sure who the woman was, but he did know that she was someone of far more power than himself, and most likely royalty. And he had guessed right, she was Italian, or at least spoke it well. He smiled a more gracious smile, and returned the greeting.

His Italian was rusty at best, and while he was sure he was butchering the language, he did what he could. His stationing in the RIA kept most of his language skills to those of the more Eastern Europen nations, and what little Italian he knew came mostly from wathcing mafia movies.

"Il giorno buono a lei come bene," he managed to make out, keeping the pronounciation generally on key. He knew his words were far more classical, a book translation at best, but it was the effort that counted. "Lovely day, isn't it? Better than the weather back home at least. I don't believe I have the pleasure of having meet you, I'm Jerrick Wickwire." His words were sincere enough, not conveying his usual tone of approaching a possible mark for sale, but an ernest attempt at introducing himself. He held back from offering a hand, not sure at how Nathicana's culture dictated greetings, and would allow her to make the first move.

Here it is. She’s more on guard than I had given her credit for, thought Alice. There was just the tiniest bit of remorse for the charade she was playing; had they met under different circumstances, Alice was sure that she would have liked Siobhan as a person, not just a possible ally. She did feel just the slightest patronization in Siobhan’s gaze; at twenty-nine, she wasn’t quite a ‘girl’, in the most literal sense, but years of being the youngest in the royal clan had led her to always affect that behavior.

“Your pardon, Majesty,” she said. Would a tremble in the voice be appropriate here? – no, that is overkill. “I had quite forgotten that Iansislean news does not always reach all parts of the globe; a disadvantage of our relatively isolated state, I’d imagine. James, my brother, the King-- ”

Here she paused, looking for words. The Duke opened his mouth, doubtlessly about to say something foolish, so Alice was forced to stop him and begin again almost before she was ready.

“It is almost too terrible to talk about. My brother supported the Revolution at first, as did I. The old system had become in many ways decrepit: too many internal divisions, too much internecine strife, too much corruption. Mr Bradsworth seemed to have a better way and James was willing to compromise tradition. He really was a scandalous liberal, your Majesty, if it’s not too harsh for me to say.

“I believe that Mr Bradsworth really did mean well, at least at first. But he was a demagogue at heart, and the will of the people became increasingly radical and unreasonable. When, unable to deal with it, my brother fled to the Javian Kingdom of the Foothills – one of the breakaway states in the confusion of the Revolution – Bradsworth and his cohorts declared Iansisle a republic and James to be a traitor.

“The Army backed the Republic, alas, and they soon captured him. James was given a show of a trial and sentenced to death. They hanged him, your Majesty, in front of a jeering crowd. The Republic couldn’t even afford him a decent execution; he died like a common criminal.”

“A damnable crime against God’s order,” interjected the Duke, his blustering somewhat ruining the somber mood that Alice had been trying to create.

The afternoon was wearing on and more and more visitors were taking to strolling around the gardens, some getting to know others, and some renewing old acquaintances.

"I'm getting stiff sitting here Aris, let's just walk for a while.
It would be nice if we could get to know some of the other guests before dinner."

"Come on then, we'll go and get a glass of that wine each and try to mingle a little."

They walked over to where one of the white-clad servants were handing out crystal goblets of wine, nodding and smiling to one or two people as they passed by.

Another quick notification comes across Spook, this time from Reihana.

<<Incoming – crowns and company, two-o’clock.>>

Nathi glances quickly in that direction, noting the Princess and her entourage, eyes lighting up with recognition. Surely she’d been to one of the Lavenrunz affairs – Aurora’s birthday, was it? Something like that, she was certain. Unfamiliar, yet known. Aerion, big on appearances, blue-bloods through and through of the sort that would likely make even the more haughty Dominion re-founded royalty blush, from what she’d seen, however briefly.

Well this should prove a learning experience.

“Best behaviour, mia bellas,” she murmurs to the kids just before Jerrick returns her greeting. She nods and smiles, stepping forward and offering her hand for a firm yet gentle shake as she introduces herself in turn.

“That it is – could not ask for a more pleasant setting. A pleasure to meet you, Mister Wickwire. Nathicana D’Aquisto, Dominion Imperatrice. My children, Naiya and Marcus,” she continues, with the latter looking up from his current fascination with the caterpillar, and beaming, and Naiya looking up at the man with a quietly thoughtful expression after making a slight child-like curtsey.

“And Gianni Cafagna, personal assistant whom I could not possibly do without,” she finishes, with Gianni stepping forward with a brief bow and a smile, also extending his hand in greeting.

“A pleasure,” he says simply, before stepping back again to keep an eye on Marcus, while Naiya keeps close to her mother, watching curiously.

“You mentioned home,” Nathi says politely. “Where might that be?”

When the Aerion party arrives, she nods and smiles at them as well, offering the same greeting as she did Jerrick. This was a party after all, and they were all guests. No need to rest on formal court etiquette unless others insisted on it.

OOC: Nevillonia - uh, no. If you want to try actually roleplaying I've no problem with that, but what you've posted is not it. I am Not Amused by this flagrant disregard of roleplaying etiquette and abuse of others' characters, merely so that you may soothe your ego by playing at being "Pimpier than thou".

In short - get walkin', boy. This thread isn't the place for you.

"Many thanks," Lirella replied, glancing off towards the distance, where it appeared a crowd had gathered with various image devices, all of them point at her and her craft. "It would seem that our arrival is a little out of the ordinary."

"I've no problem with them taking pictures," She smirked. "Though I don't think they'll be able to get a tour of it. Shall we go?"

And with that, Lirella and her entourage disappeared into the limousine. Soryaan had some slight... issues, mainly concerning her headpiece, though at the least the door of the vehicle didn't _close_ on it.

Arrival at the party, of course, involved a brief freshening-up in the allotted suite, and as innocuous an entrance as could be managed.

That being said, Lirella and company quite simply attempted to slip into the crowd, though a spot of hesitation, scanning for recognizable faces, no doubt alerted those in the room of the Kajali party's arrival.

Fanfare? None. Just act casual was the order of the day. Having entered after the party from Aerion, of course, she may or may not have a chance of bumping into Nathicana.

Of course, she _would_ find her at some time during this party. Soryaan took a less subtle option, and made a beeline for the bar, while Ilunaia, well..

Ilunaia was sticking with Lirella, for the moment, until she could get her bearings. She wasn't quite used to these events just yet.

The Princess smiled at the Dread Lady cordially, a somewhat mischevious smile "Good evening Imperatrice. It is an pleasure to meet you here, your reputation precedes you. I am Princess Ameria Wasterin, sister to Crown Prince Damoen Wasterin. You may have heard of me, or perhaps more likely my brother..."

Her watch of almost a hundred small twinkling diamonds making up the band and face rests around the wrist that holds the wine glass, perhaps serving as a distraction to some. Some may call it tacky but by Aerionian standards it was acceptable.

Her purple shawl draped around her bare shoulders perhaps shifted in the breeze if there was any in the garden.

She speaks and acts as more of a savvy dangerous seductress than an haughty spoiled rich girl as one may first think.

The gray haired Ambassador and his wife remain silent, until it appears appropriate for them to speak following the Princess's introductions with Nathicana.

Captain Daerin, the African-Aerionian stands in a formal stance along with the two other Royal Guards in their dark burgundy dress uniforms. They maintain a much more formal air than some of the other security guards at the party, though the black suited Royal Guard that came in more discreetly are blending in.

Wickwire smiled at each member of the entourage individually as the were introduced.

"Imperatrice, it is my pleasure to meet you." He mentally thanksed God that she had accepted to conitue the conversation in English. He was also glad that she had seemingly displaced formallity for the sake of relaxation and ease at the party.

You mentioned home. Where might that be?

"Imitora," he responded, politely. "Southern portion, and we've been having somewhat of a nasty cold spell recently. Its been nice to get away for a while, even if I feel a bit, out ranked, by the present company."

So Il Sultano wanders off for just a few minutes, and what happens? The Dread Lady of the Northern Boot becomes the major gravitational body of the party. Looking over his shoulder at the congregation around her, Venditti smirks. "Figures."

"What cans I say, boss, 'ut yer a nasheral." The Enforcer grins heartily. This exposes more of his teeth than could be healthy for any onlookers. "Thinks we should go back?"

Bonsignore smirks. "Nah. Mama bear and baby bears, remember? And that bird right there," he nods, "is a bear. I'm sure she'll do bizness, as sure as I am that Jesus don' 'prove of my work, but not in front of la famiglia. There's Family, and then there's family, y'know? 'Specially for the not-Family types."

The Enforcer nods, then glances over at the pair from Cookesland. He does not make eye contact, nor make it readily obvious that he has noticed them--his face is physically incapable of being friendly outside of a decidedly disconcerting way. "Dey don' look too bizzy ov'r dere, boss. What says ya we goes talk to 'em? An' by 'we,' 'couse I means ya, 'cuz I ain' no goo' wif talk'n. 'Less it be wif a pair o'pliers."

Il Sultano shrugs, smiles, makes his friendly (if greasy) face yet friendlier, and maneuvers to intercept... no, wait, too aggressive... to rendezvous with Steven and Lostelle. If said path can be arranged to snag the party from Pats Atoll, so much the better. Once within comfortable hailing distance he pulls his right hand from his pocket to raise in casual greeting, jams it back in, and grins behind his burning-down cigarette. "Hey, baby. Bonsignore Venditti, Il Sultano of Moneylaunderingstan. 'S a positive blessing to meet such nice people on such a God-given pretty day, eh? Sorry that I don't know you all's names--'fraid I've never been to up-to-date on important peoples from 'round the world. Would like to fix that, though. Pleased to meetchya."

Flick. "Here's my card."

Almost immediately after the Kajali arrive, a group of Cetagandans do as well. There's seven in total, six adults and a young boy. It's obvious that two men and two women are bodyguards from the way they surround the other three and watch the crowd, and from the fact that they're wearing uniforms of navy and white livery, although very simple and low-key ones. The other three including the youngster are wearing fancier through still simple civilian clothes more appropriate for a masquerade and of similar coloring, although they too seem to have an almost uniform-like cut. Gregor is shorter and a bit stockier than his companion, with dark red hair that his son Ivan shares, and a very simple circlet rests on his head. The other, Tarvi, is tall and lanky, with black hair that's a bit ruffled in a way that may or may not be deliberate.

Gregor spots the Imperatrice, and comments to the others, “There's Nathi over there. Looks like she brought the children with her, too.”

“It did say it was a family event,” Tarvi says, shrugging. “Poor woman's practically surrounded.”

“Probably a bunch of sycophants. We can catch her later,” Gregor mutters in reply, careful not to let his voice carry beyond the group. He catches the Dread Lady's eye and gives a little wave, then spots Lirella and points her out. “I think that's our newest ally. Let's say hello.”

They meander through the crowd until they reach the Kajali. “Lady Keral? Emperor Gregor, of Cetaganda. Pleasure to meet you in person, ma'am.”

The Emperor proceeded to walk down, and then he noticed that everybody was dressed for dinner.

"Oh shit! Back we go guys, and out with our formal wear"

Everybody changed from their outfits into the spare suits that they had brought with them

"Hopefully that will be reasonable enough"

Now, having corrected their garments, the delegation walked down to where the dinner was held and prepared to mingle with the guests

"The pleasure is mine, sir. I regret that I haven't visited Sol too recently, though you should have seen the looks when we landed at the airport..."

Lirella smirks. "But then, I don't suppose everyone is used to spacecraft arriving as perfectly normal."

As she remarks on those possibly still gaping at her craft, Ilunaia introduces herself, of course, and is somewhat more prim and proper about it, though her greeting comes off primarily as a shy "Your majesty" with a slight bow.

This, of course, draws another smirk from Lirella. "You'd think that a judge would be a little less modest."

"The people have a tendency to strike down the arrogant and unjust, mother. It... helps to be humble."

Lirella actually laughs a little at that. "Government should be afraid of its people, yes... And I'm sure they are, back in Parliament. I would introduce you to the Duchess of Kajal Mars, sir, though it appears she's headed straight for the bar with no intentions of turning back.

Stressful business, Mars."

Stepping into the ballroom was a sight that would probably be mildly curious from any nation other than the Hack. In front was what looked to be a thin, tallish man, possibly recognized by some as the former President-For-Life, Victor Solis (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v251/Tindalos/Victor.jpg). The fact that he actually possessed such a title said something for his political ability. He wore a fine, yet somewhat understated tuxedo. Quite nice, but nothing horribly over the top. Like the other few remaining Hyperboreans, his features were regal, but he still maintained an air of being just another common person. Retirement has been known to have that effect.

Standing behind and to the right of him was what had to be his bodyguard. There was no other explanation for the massive Dire Wolfen. The tuxedo he wore, despite clearly being immaculately tailored, still didn't look quite right; probably because his dimensions were just wrong for most human-styled clothing. Victor was of a reasonable height for a human, and while the Dire towered over him, he managed it without looming.

Victor glanced around the room and breathed a soft sigh of relief, "Hm. Perhaps we weren't as late as I feared. Anund, go blend in."

The Dire coughed slightly, his voice a distinguished baritone and not nearly as menacing as his hulking form and red eyes implied, "Blend in? Something in those cigarettes beside nicotine?" A pause, "Sir?"

Victor simply shrugged and shooed the large wolf away, "Meh. Then go get a drink or something. I'm sure they can find you a bucket."

Anund rolled his eyes dramatically and padded off, looking strangely graceful, even as he scanned the room for potential threats and dangers. Then again, Victor hadn't lived this long without having a certain amount of luck. Anund shrugged; should be an easy night.

ooc: going to do a little creative juggling here to try and smooth the convo a little to avoid difficulties or unintended rudeness or the like …

“Ah, Imitora,” Nathi says, nodding and smiling. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure. As for outranked? Signore, people are people. And if you go back far enough to even the most royal lines, you’ll find it holds true. Rule is gained by those who can take it, and maintained by those who can hold it. We are all guests here, and by attending, you show your worth in our host’s eyes. I hope you’ll be able to relax and enjoy the festivities. It’s shaping up to be quite the party, after all.”

At which point the Aerion party arrives, and the Princes offers her greeting in turn.

“Of course, Your Highness – a pleasure,” Nathicana replies. By contrast, the only jewelry she wore was a single diamond solitaire on her left hand, and simple drop earrings that complimented the pendant she wore on a slender chain around her neck, depicting the Dominion falcon inlaid in ruby and onyx. Perhaps not as flashy as the dazzle of diamonds, but those who knew their exotic metals would know said pendant was mithril.

The young woman reminded her of many of the up and coming players in the Dominion political arena, using all the weapons in their arsenal to get what they wanted. Couldn’t fault her for that, granted – it was the smart thing to do. Her style was simply not one Nathicana preferred to use for herself, and that was just fine.

“Princess, if I might introduce my daughter Naiya, and son, Marcus,” Nathicana continued, nodding to each in turn, with Naiya repeating her earlier curtsey, and Marcus scrambling over to join them now that so many people were gathering. He offers a brief bow and a smile that so mirrors his father’s mischievous grin, Nathi nearly asks what he’s up to. “And Gianni Cafagna, my personal assistant.”

Gianni responds with a respectful bow appropriate to her station. “Your Highness,” he murmurs politely, straightening again.

“Also, Signore Jerrick Wickwire of Imitora,” she continued, gesturing to the gentleman and nodding. If Her Highness was not going to introduce her entourage immediately, she would wait.

Her security detail takes note of the details of the Aerionian party while continuing to monitor the surroundings, and the comings and goings of the rest of the guests as best as they can manage. There was a reason there were three guards to each of the four guests – all the better to cover the three areas concerning them: person, immediate area, extended area, all coordinated via Spook, and what hand signals were needed now and then. They carry themselves with an air of quiet confidence, and practiced watchfulness, keeping a respectful distance while never leaving the party ‘alone’.

At seeing Gregor and Tarvi, she smiles warmly and makes a subtle return wave at the first opportunity before shifting her gaze back to the Aerionians and Jerrick, pleased to see there were some familiar faces mixed in with all the new.

The Princess smiled at the children warmly, though you could tell she never had kids as she did not lean forward or take any action to show more interest than the smile.

She commented, "What lovely children you have, Imperatrice, worthy heirs indeed." She had made an assumption, perhaps by the title, that the Dominion had an hereditary monarchy as the Grand Kingdom did.

She thought for a moment of her own brother, the Crown Prince, who had still after over an year had passed refused to be crowned King, and was now off on some Buddhist tangeant leaving the Great Officers of State to govern the nation.

They had been expected to carry on the legacy of King Wasterin X, who was able to bring the Royal Family in power after years of having been locked in the Royal Estate and used as titular royalty to appease the public. With his legacy came the megacorporations that helped bring their rise to power, in a way. These same megacorporations would probably have her brother killed after his little attempted idealist reforms when he comes back from Buddhaland, but she didn't really care he was being foolish as it was.


It was all in a moments thought when she snapped back to reality, and nodded cordially in recognition to the Dread Lady's personal assistant.

She smiled at the delegate from Imitora, "Mister Wickwire, a pleasure."

She then decided it was perhaps time to introduce her own delegation, whom she had almost forgot about. The Princess suffered from perceiving things as if she was the center of the universe, and others were backdrop when it came to those below her station. Probably the way she was raised, though she had also had political and etiquette tutors so she knew better at such an event as this.

"This is Ambassador Gefron Osiaun, and his wife Leloren Osiaun. The Ambassador has had an distinguished civil service career, and will be presenting his letters of credence to the High Queen of New Katagan as our new Ambassador to New Katagan. It looks like it will be a lovely assignment" She said this looking around at the garden.

The Ambassador smiled, looking at the Princess, "Indeed." Then smoothly transitioned to greeting the Dread Lady, "Your Majesty, it is an pleasure to meet you. I have heard good things about the Dominion." He had had more experience than the Princess in being fake, one could not tell if he was lying through his teeth or not though he seemed genuine and warm.

His wife, Leloren, smiled graciously "Your Majesty." She said in a gentle voice, though she had played the part of the Ambassador's wife for some time so typically withdrew in such diplomatic situations unless it was an Aerionian party then she mingled by herself.

The Princess then looked at the final person to introduce, the African-Aerionian in the party, that was Captan Daerin. "And this is Royal Guard Captain Daerin, head of my personal security. A very honorable, fine man" She smiled at the Captain.

There, she had introduced them, and pleased etiquette she thought. Now it was time for her to see what the Dread Lady had to say to each.

OOC:

Am I a little too late?

IC:

With His Imperial Majesty Tsar Alexander III (who also fashions himself as The Most August thanks to his correspondence with Valinor officials) out on the warpath fighting against the Gull Flag Republic of Iansisle, all things being done at home are pretty much managed by his capable ministers and his son and heir apparent, His Majesty Crown Prince Ivan Alexandrovich. The House Borivich-Vassilakos-Seleukios is a young family with only three emperors to sit on the throne so far, and the certainty that a pretender from the now disinherited Kalderis dynasty (the dynasty that ruled before) could rise up is always a possibility with monarchs who are as unstable as Alexander III. Already, the seams of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius are whittling away - a socialist revolt amongst the gulags of political prisoners in East Valeria have caused some stir in Isangrad, and some worry about Alexander III's apparent insolence in managing the empire. Even more rumors of a German conspiracy in the state of Baden cause more stress.

Still, the ministers and the crown prince try their best to keep things together. Feodor Gagarin, the Minister of Diplomacy and Foreign Affairs, arrived at Prince Ivan's private quarters with a letter of some significance. It was an invitation to a masquerade in a distant nation, whose location would have most Valerian officials scratching their heads; Valerians are rather bad at keeping diplomatic ties outside of the Pacific Ocean. New Katagan was it. A nation that presents itself as inhabited by non-humans. An interesting situation indeed. Ivan arose from his bed and paced slowly to his dresser. He thought that it was best for the empire to go to such an event. Ivan already arranged his fraternal twin sister's marriage to some prince (who is now a king, George III) in a far-off nation called Brasland. It would not help to brush up on his diplomacy skills, especially if he wanted to do the best for the country. Ivan feels that he could change the empire, shake up its foundations based on nobles and magnates, and finally usher in a permanent constitutional monarchy, but whether he could accomplish that with the problems brewing under his father's reign is questionable. He might spend his life on the throne slaughtering instead of healing.

Ivan dressed in his princely regalia. He wondered if he could bring his girlfriend along, Yelizaveta Kim. She was "unacceptable" as an East Asian; Ivan was deeply in love with him, but he was worried that his father might declare a marriage with her as a morganatic one or even disown him as the crown prince and invest the title of archduke unto his younger brother, Prince Peter. Peter was Alexander's favorite son, but he was already developing a penchant for alcohol and was too caught up into parties. He would likely be an indifferent monarch on the throne. Maybe it was best to go alone with a few guards.

And so, Ivan sent back a message hastily declaring that he will be in attendance, and readies his things to head out. A couple of Imperial Guards will accompany him along the way.

http://i45.photobucket.com/albums/f63/ValerianEmpire/crownprince.jpg

H.M. Crown Prince Ivan Alexandrovich of House Borivich-Vassilakos-Seleukios

“Grazie, Your Highness,” Nathi replies smoothly to the compliment. The only reason she had made the changes in the Dominion in rule and ascendancy after all, was the children. Without, there was little doubt she’d have left things as they were, and kept the simple title of ‘dictator’, until she died, or someone else managed to take it from her as she’d taken it from her predecessor.

“Ambassador, m’lady Osiaun, a pleasure. I hope you enjoy your appointment in New Katagan. As the Princess says, it does look to be a wonderful place to be stationed, and the people here are simply delightful. I look forward to meeting the new Queen of such a gracious nation,” she says sincerely to the couple, offering a nod and a warm smile. Normally, she would offer her hand in greeting, but the Princess had set the tone to one of more aloof politeness, and thus, she chose not to impress a more personable atmosphere on the group. “I can see your reputation is well-earned to have been awarded such responsible position in establishing new contacts.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” she says in response to the Ambassador’s comment of ‘good things’, wondering idly what things they may have been. “Captain,” she continues with a gracious nod to the man. “Indeed, an honor to make the acquaintance of one so obviously held in esteem by Her Highness.”

To the Princess, and the group as a whole, Jerrick included, she finished with a question. “I take it your travels here were pleasant, and you’re enjoying the fine hospitality of our hosts? We’ve found the gardens here simply breathtaking, and the children have loved seeing that some things, like being able to enjoy them, haven’t changed from home.”

She nods to Naiya and Marcus, letting them know it’s just fine if they’d like to continue playing. The little boy grins and dashes back to find the caterpillar again, and to see if there’s others, while the girl lingers for a moment, quietly considering each of the adults before slipping off to join her brother.

Wickwire bowed slightly towards the princess. "Princess Wasterin, its a pleasure," he cordially returned the greeting. He would be sure to brush up on his dealings with royalty when he returned home.

He also appriciated the asistance of the Imperatrice, intorducing him to the Princess, and leaving him with some kind words regarding rank and structure at parties like this. He had been brought up in a military life, so he understood the the process and point, and knew how to handle certain sets of rank, but royalty was something different. In the military, it was always sir or ma'am. Out here, there were titles, appropriate forms of greetings, entourages, and the like.

His mental contimplation was quickly snapped back to reality when the Imperatrice spoke up again.

I take it your travels here were pleasant, and you’re enjoying the fine hospitality of our hosts? We’ve found the gardens here simply breathtaking, and the children have loved seeing that some things, like being able to enjoy them, haven’t changed from home.

"Indeed, they were. I've never been a huge fan of flying anywhere, but the trip was smooth enough. And the gardens are lovely. It's nice to get out, take a walk, the fresh air and all. I spend so much time behind a desk that when I'm able to get out and go for a walk, I always come away wondering what I'm missing."

“The Army backed the Republic, alas, and they soon captured him. James was given a show of a trial and sentenced to death. They hanged him, your Majesty, in front of a jeering crowd. The Republic couldn’t even afford him a decent execution; he died like a common criminal.”

“A damnable crime against God’s order,” interjected the Duke, his blustering somewhat ruining the somber mood that Alice had been trying to create.

As Princess Alice related her brother's story, Siobhan's expression fell from sympathy to stoicism, and finally to something grim altogether. She saw Gaeltach's potential to follow Iansisle's example. Only it would be herself in the hangman's noose instead of any bloody usurper. She had mentioned before that the rival families never quite agreed with her ancestor's claim to the seat at Kilasser, and they had picked at her line ever since. Recently, they had taken up the cause again with renewed fervor, citing domestic policy as some strange corruption of their traditions. Truth be told, she was sturggling to hang on to the old ways in some form of another, but the eye only sees truth as the mind percieves it.

"It is a travesty, and one in which history is well-versed, I'm afraid. Although I am deeply sorry it had to strike you and yours, Princess. That always seems the way with visionaries doesn't it? Sometimes the cause grows legs of its own, and will power of its own besides."

Shaking herself of the dark mood James' death invoked, she continued.

"I assume your standing and realm are more peaceable now?"

Princess Ameria took a momentary sip of her wine, her green eyes flashing across the courtyard to the other group of humans that were conversating. Her eyes then flashed back to the Dread Lady,

"Ahh yes, it has been lovely. I chose to rent a mansion for the duration of our stay, and the New Katagans provided me with one of the Royal Residences. The Ekaterina Palace, an oriental style palace. Very beautiful. Similar to this one, though more simplistic."

Her green eyes gazed around at the gardens once more, and she suddenly shifts the subject to architecture "Their architecture seems to express very lofty ideas. It is very relaxing for me.

In the Grand Kingdom of Aerion our original Aerionian architects drew from Greeko-Roman and Arabic influences, forming a synthesis of architecture, and it was meant more to reflect the grandeur of government with some beautiful interiors that draw from the French Baroque. The Royal Palace is built in this architecture, as well as the entire Royal District and most central districts of major Aerionian cities have been preserved by Royal Decree. For awhile the nomadic Aerionians that settled down had seen fit to model themselves after the Roman Republic, in government and architecture.

Of course now with our modern society it seems that the majority of our architecture is modern minimalist, and the megacorporations have been building most of their buildings as well as the corporate housing in modern minimalist style. It is very boring I say, but it is mostly used for the general architecture for the people. There is a new Aerionian movement toward Art Nouveau and Art Deco in art, and architecture resulting in some gorgeous constructions."

She takes a sip of her wine, and as if a side note says "The newer government buildings have been reflecting this style. I believe some of the new Aerionian embassies will be built in these styles, though no doubt we will maintain French Baroque interiors. Maybe even the embassy here in New Katagan will be built Art Nouveau style. It seems our Ministry of Culture is favoring the style."

After finishing her seeming verbal treatise of Aerionian architecture, the Princess smiles, "And what is the architectural style of the Dominion, Imperatrice? How does it compare to this lofty architecture here?"

The Emperor grabbed a glass of champagne and proceeded to sample the many items that were on the menu

"These fish things are really good"

"Glad you like it Sir"

The delegation had spread around, finding different groups to converse with. The Emperor was still alone though, he seemed contented with his food, until he heard the conversation between Princess Ameria and the Dread Lady about architecture. Always interested in foreign architecture, he decided to introduce himself to the two women

The mention of Mars evokes a grimace from Gregor and a smile from Tarvi, who says, “Well, given what I've heard of the place, I can hardly blame her. It seems the planet is full of fr-” he glances down at Ivan, who's watching wide-eyed, and continues without missing a beat, “frankly unpleasant people.”

“How was I supposed to know,” grumbles Gregor.

“Progress reports?”

“Please, only CINCTYCS has time to read all of those. And probably Razak for the schadenfreude.” Gregor shrugs, then says, “Ah, pardon me. I should introduce my companions. My husband Tarvi, my son Ivan, and our armsmen, Stephen, Julia, Anne, and Robert.” Tarvi gives a little bow, and the guards nod politely.

"It is a travesty, and one in which history is well-versed, I'm afraid. Although I am deeply sorry it had to strike you and yours, Princess. That always seems the way with visionaries doesn't it? Sometimes the cause grows legs of its own, and will power of its own besides."

Shaking herself of the dark mood James' death invoked, she continued.

"I assume your standing and realm are more peaceable now?"

"Would that it were so!" said Alice. "No, I'm afraid that we are forced to hold court over a community of émigrés as the guests of a foreign power. The people of Iansisle -- my nephew's subjects -- have been blinded and misled by the sirens of the Republic. There have been many attempts to start a counter-revolution, of course, but all have come to naught."

She shrugged.

"Perhaps one day God will smile on Iansisle again."

“What architecture exists depends rather heavily on what region you’re currently in, in the Dominion,” Nathi begins thoughtfully.

“Devras, the capitol for example, holds a rather strong Venetian flavour, what with the Old City being largely on the water and shoreline, with the canales, the beautiful old churches and governmental buildings, and most of the older historical sites. It’s an eclectic blend of the cultures who have had a hand in molding our nation, really. Italian Gothic mingles with high Renaissance, which flows seamlessly into Byzantine and Romanesque. No few areas show a strong Muslim influence, believe it or not, especially about the windows and doorways. Simply beautiful designs, if I do say so. Generally the walkways are paved in red or grey stones, and there is always a lot of color.”

“The newer parts of the city illustrate it’s growth, though as some of the old makes way for the new, it’s become more widely interspersed. I would say that in many ways, designers have stayed true to their roots, while reaching for more artistically. I find the blending of ideas, and the old and new to be quite refreshing. One thing that hasn’t changed is our love for our gardens, and piazzas have never fallen out of style.”

“As you make your way through the nation, things shift and change, according to the style of the city-states that birthed the current regions, though I would say overall, the grand architecture holds true in most of the larger cities. I admit a fondness for the more rustic, our wineries and agricultural centers having a charm all their own. I suppose one of the identifying features would be the red-tiled roofs that seem to be in abundance, no matter where one goes. Mixed with the stone and brick, and the greenery of the giardinis, it looks simply beautiful from the air.”

“Truly, should you ever find yourself in the neighborhood so to speak, you should visit, and see for yourself. Especially spots such as the Piazza san Bernadino, and the Doge’s Palace there, not to mention the Basilica. Simply breathtaking,” she said in conclusion, hoping that had at least touched on the basics. The Dominion was not something one could easily oversimplify. Like it’s people, it was a complex place, with a complex history.

Princess Ameria smiled, as the Ambassador and his wife remained quiet though listened politely.

She spoke, "It sounds lovely. I would be fascinated in hearing more about the Dominion some time. I have not truly been to any Italian nations.

The early Aerionian government idealistically sought to model itself off of the Roman Republic, even going so far as to include this as I said in our architecture, and their government style. For instance the massive plaza in front of the Royal Palace is named the Grand Forum, and the Royal Palace is built around the old Curia of the first Senate of that government. Though it said nothing to the ethnic origins of our people.

Though the Roman time was an very early time in the history of Italy, and her peoples. I understand that Venice had an unique culture, would you say that your peoples have their origin more in the Venetian culture than that of other parts of Italy such as Rome? Though as you said, you have many city-states that I imagine reflect the different cultures and peoples that settled the Dominion from Italy."

She takes a sip of her wine, enjoying this conversation of culture which she always supported. Culture in the high society, or artistic interest sense. For the common Aerionian she did not care.

"Would that it were so!" said Alice. "No, I'm afraid that we are forced to hold court over a community of émigrés as the guests of a foreign power. The people of Iansisle -- my nephew's subjects -- have been blinded and misled by the sirens of the Republic. There have been many attempts to start a counter-revolution, of course, but all have come to naught."

She shrugged.

"Perhaps one day God will smile on Iansisle again."

She considered her words very carefully before speaking again, her eye gaining a shrewd little glint.

"Perhaps. ...though I have found that God has very little to do with the course of our lives. We must create our own paths. In the meantime however, we would be happy to lend you assistance if we are able."

Thier conversation thus far had been a chess match. Neither had been trying to outmaneuver the other, Siobhan suspected it was more along the lines of testing the waters. But then that was the usual purpose of this type of conversation. More business deals were made on the golf course than in formal negotiations, and politics were much the same. All the same, she liked Princess Alice and could appreciate what her family had been through. On a personal note, it gave her invaluable insight along the path Gaeltach seemed it would follow. This knowledge might allow her to prevent the same mistakes and course of events from happening in her own realm.

In the crowds strung throughout the gardens one could usually tell who was who by their dress; the nobility were bright as peacocks, proudly proclaiming their status, while the commons - members of the civilian government, magnates, the essential underpinnings of the Federal Monarchy - were black as crows.

Morrigan Reid was one of the latter, although she didn't care much for the distinction; one of the pleasures of reaching a certain age (and, to be sure, a certain rank) was the privilege to cast aside petty points of status. She considered herself doubly blessed, having aged with grace; she was older than she looked.

"Don't hurry so!" she snapped, at the young woman by her side. "The world is not going to disappear on you."

The young woman, Morgan Parris, blushed and modulated her stride; she was an active, outdoors type, and despite her family's possession of a small Landgraviate in Morandrey March, she was less experienced at these events than Morrigan. Which went to show, after all, that seniority was a rank everyone attained equally fast, regardless of class.

"Ah! There he is," she exclaimed. "Do keep up, Miss Parris!"

Her unsuspecting target was tall, fine-boned, and carried himself like a sparrow among all these overstuffed pigeons. Morrigan smiled to herself, knowing that her own bearing was more akin to a hawk.

"Good afternoon," she said, grasping his hand in an uncomfortably strong handshake - there was life in the old bones yet! - "Victor Solis, I believe? A pleasure to meet you."

She considered, for a moment, how she must appear to this tall, raw-boned human; a short, indefinably aged neko, brown hair pulled back in a tight braid, with hovering anxiously behind her a pretty young thing in a catsuit of all garments, as if she had just stepped from the set of a spy movie.

"Morrigan Reid, Executive Director of the Royal Institute for Ancient Studies," she added, "And my aide, Miss Parris."

---

"Hitting the drinks already?"

A tall, dignified elder neko turned to Soryaan, raising his glass in salute. He looked every bit the statesman, having managed to cultivate an impressive beard, a rarity among Katagani.

"I don't blame you, of course," he continued, "This lot drive me to drink, after all. Look at them! The ones without empty heads think their heads are entirely too large ... the name's Davidson, by the way. Sal Davidson."

---

"My dear man, what a truly splendid uniform!"

The neko who bustled up to Prince Ivan Alexandrovitch didn't, perhaps, realise that the Prince's ceremonial uniform was rather archaic; more likely she thought all the more highly of it for its abundance of gold thread and buttons. She herself, after all, wore a green dress swathed in scarves, bangles, necklaces and feathers, looking something like a plump green parrot; flame-red hair escaped a similarly extravagant turban upon her head.

"However did you get all those medals? You simply must tell me all about it."

---
OOC: Sorry for the late reply, people - I've been having some trouble getting inspired to write. Magnus Valerius, you're not too late (I've taken the liberty of putting you directly at the party in this post - I hope any liberties I have taken with Ivan's dress are not egregious).

People are welcome to join up until I start the dinner, which should be soon - there's just a few meetings with the High Queen to get out of the way before then. Speaking of which, The Amazons Daughters - you're up!

OOC>there's just a few meetings with the High Queen to get out of the way before then. Speaking of which, The Amazons Daughters - you're up!

I've been waiting for a reply from you, see post #58

Maglor’s foot came down a mere inch from a cooing dove. The timid, useless creature turned its head absentmindedly – empty-minded – glancing at him, but made not other reaction, for it considered his presence in such close proximity to be entirely natural and normal thanks to an obscure and low-key glamour that made most creatures – animals, at least - view him instinctually as one of their own, despite still being able to see plentiful evidence to the contrary.

Perhaps he looked a little like one of the local civil servants, save that were he a crow, it would have to be a hooded crow, thanks to the flint grey that warred for space with the rest of his coaly black costume. Nevertheless, thanks to this, he didn’t seem to be getting much attention, and in truth, he didn’t want it, at least not yet.

He explored the hedgerows and flowerbeds with as much interest as he gazed at the other guests, here and there exerting a little force to change things a touch; ironing out blemishes or changing flowers a little as if he were an artist keen to touch up details.

Nevertheless, he was observing, and what he saw next caused him to forget all about such details. He recognised some of the people in the group, or at least, he recognised the grandly titled Imperatrice Nathicana. But although she was distinctly attractive, beautiful even, he wasn’t interested at all in her; she was only peripherally in his thought.

It was a more familiar look than that.

It reminded him of his own foster children, though the feature that caught his attention was a little less than ten times as pronounced.

He turned, and strode away.

Aris was beginning to enjoy himself, even though all he and Vardon were doing was people watching.
This was the first function of this kind he had been allowed to attend, and the fact that all the guests were sizing each other up, rather like two opponents in the boxing ring who have just met for the first time, amused him immensely.

He leaned towards Vardon and spoke in hushed tones.

"It should be interesting later, when they are all wearing their masks, to see how their reactions to each other alter.
I think my Fathers little plan is going to backfire though, I stand no chance of making the aquantance of any girls, least of all the new Queen."

"That is what comes of never having been in mixed company too often."

They continued on towards the terraces and flower beds.

ooc: Sorry, I missed one there methinks. Sorry ‘bout that, Imitora – it’s been a little wild on my end lately.

Nathi nods to Wickwire, and smiles. “Understandable. I’m rather lucky in being able to dictate my schedule more than many, not to mention having the luxury of having an office at home I can work from as well as the one downtown, complete with an amazing view, and those gardens to walk in,” she says, glancing at her children with a soft chuckle. “Not to mention, a pair of excellent excuses to step away from things when needed.”

To the Princess, also nods in understanding, then arches a brow slightly at the question, thinking she had, in part, already answered the question in the details of what spawned the diverse architecture.

“Traits and traditions shift from region to region, yes. And while we share much of a common ancestry with many nations of similar background, I would say the Dominion has evolved into something entirely it’s own, especially the marked increase in our exposure to other cultures over the past several years. While we have nothing on say, the Scolopendrans by way of integration, we do have a history of taking the good and incorporating it, in our own way. We’ve had to do a lot of growing on account of so many opportunities opening up for us. I would say overall, it’s been for the best.”

OOC: New Katagan, The liberties you've taken with Ivan's dress are fine. :)

IC:

Prince Ivan had barely gotten off the shoddy twin-engine plane (called the 'pinnacle of Valerian private aviation technology' and painted in the patriotic blue, gold, and white colors of The Grand Empire) when he was whisked away towards the masquerade. He presented himself and the two bodyguards that accompanied him to the New Kataganian officials as representatives of The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius. Ivan, and the two young guards that were around his age, Levon Kamanets and Vasily Evrogenivov soon mingled into the crowd. The guards helped themselves and strayed a little behind to taste some of the hors d'oeuvres and liquors of this new nation to the Valerians. Ivan was in the mood to check out the entire palatial complex, and as he was heading to the gardens, a Katagan (from what the prince had heard, they were called nekos) in a hugely flamboyant dress of green and with numerous golden trinkets. A large turban sat on her red head, completing her gaudy yet silly outfit. Such is the nobility, Ivan thought, as nobles in Valeria dressed just as flamboyantly, if not more. Ivan had seen some women dressed up so that they looked like fat Valerian Peacocks, waddling with their long, flowing dresses and large feathers sprouting up from their hats.

"Oh, hello, madame. I am flattered by your words," Ivan tried to fight the laughter welled up in him at the women's goofy appearance. He managed an awkward smile and kept a straight face for now. "These medals are all from the titles that I hold back home at Magnus Valerius. This one, for example," he points to one of a double-headed Imperial Eagle clasping onto a Slavic Cross, "signifies that I am the Crown Prince of Magnus Valerius. In other words, I am Archduke, the Tsarevich, what have you..." Ivan smiled, and continued. "This one grants me an honorary command as head of the 2nd Valerian Rifles back home as well, if I ever wanted to fight. My father is currently away at war leading the 1st Imperial Guards to battle in a war... so he could not be here tonight. I come here in his stead, and I must say your nation is very interesting and pleasant. I'm sure you'd say the same of my native land if you had the chance to visit."

Ivan bowed and then decided to give the woman another ring to add onto her already extensive collection on her fingers; the prince was really generous, even to strangers, as this neko will find out. "I have too many things, so I would like you to have this to remember to visit my nation upon my coronation, whenever that may happen. This ring is one of the rings that I have received as a part of my titles, but I do not need it." Ivan offered it up to the woman and then decided it was time to excuse himself to the gardens for a breath of fresh Kataganian air. "Now, I must be off. I want to take a little walk in the gardens."

Ivan bowed again and excused himself from the woman's presence as he made his way to the gardens. It was an excellent respite from the crowded inside, where the hobnob of the various nobilities of nations coalesced before the dinner. He strolled up to the collection of various peoples chatting away, and looked particularly at a couple of women who held company with a rather obnoxious-looking nobleman. Ivan wandered towards a fountain nearby and sat down before drawing out a cigarette and lit it up. The brand was one of Magnus Valerius's luxury brands, Autokratorike, with an intricate gold foil package and with small imperial eagles on the filter of each cigarette. The prince began people watching, and he particularly watched the women (whom he did not know were the exiled Callahans of Iansisle) and the foolish man they held company with (The Duke Dunerbridge). He wondered where they were from, and particularly how old the younger of the women was. Ivan was soon joined by his guards, who came and sat down on both sides of the prince. They too, lit up some cigarettes and joined the prince on his casual smoke at the fountain.

"You should try the cheese and wine," Vasily said, breaking the silence. Levon nodded as he took a drag. "The women here are pretty nice as well," Levon added. Ivan turned to his guards, and then smiled, "Well, I will enjoy some of the fine cheese and wine, along with the fine company of women here, when dinner is served," Ivan then turned around and glanced at Alice Callahan from his distance, taking a drag beforehand.

She considered her words very carefully before speaking again, her eye gaining a shrewd little glint.

"Perhaps. ...though I have found that God has very little to do with the course of our lives. We must create our own paths. In the meantime however, we would be happy to lend you assistance if we are able."

A doorway had been opened, at least a crack. The Duke desperately wanted to force it open, she knew, but his barging through would only create a dead bolt. Even as he opened his mouth to inquire as to specifics in Siobhan’s offer of assistance, Alice cut him off.

“I humbly thank your Majesty for your kind words,” she said quietly. “But come! --I did not come to a party to discuss high affairs of state and dour memories. Tell me something about your Majesty. Are you married?”

Delicate, your Grace, delicate. These things must not be forced.

The Princess smiled, following the conversation with Wickwire as well. "Ahh, it sounds very interesting, Imperatrice." She takes a sip of her wine, raising an eyebrow slightly as she listens in a habit of hers.

She spoke properly, "It sounds like you have carved out a good role for yourself, Imperatrice. It is lovely that you have time to walk in the gardens, and spend time with your children."

She laughed, "I am never alone! Some of the offices of the government are in my residence. My office and the Great Officers of State offices are in the Royal Palace. Though I am exaggerating, the Royal Apartments which are truly my home are almost half a mile from the government offices in the Royal Palace and almost no one is allowed in to disturb us without permission. We do have our private gardens adjoining the Royal Apartments. I am able to take nice, long quiet walks but only if I leave my smartphone with my secretary or handmaidens."

She reflected, "In the age of modern electronics, it seems as if we may be disturbed at any time."

She took another sip of wine.

The Ambassador bowed, "If you will excuse me, Your Royal Highness, and Your Majesty." He nodded to the Imperatrice.

Princess Ameria nodded, "Certainly, Ambassador."

Ambassador Gefron

The Ambassdaor and his wife made their way over to where Princess Alice of Ianisle and Princess Siobhan of Gaeltach were standing.

The older Eastern Aerionian Ambassador with his silver hair, wearing the slightly modern cut tuxedo, and his wife with her gray hair tied up in a bun. They looked like a distinguished older couple, more like they should be the Royalty from Aerion, but alias from the looks of those gathered here the Royalty were young these days.

He bow a short half-bow, "Your Highnesses, I am Ambassador Gefron Osiaun of the Grand Kingdom of Aerion." He smiled toward his wife, "This is my wife Leloren."

He looked at them both, "Her Royal Highness, Princess Ameria Wasterin over there wished me to come over, and greet you. She expressed interest in speaking to you later, as we all share monarchy interests."

He left out that Aerion was a capitalist monarchy, almost an absolute monarchy with the lack of any legislature whatsoever, and the reason it was capitalist was that the power of the megacorporations was strong enough that it warranted the Aerionian monarchy to take economic control measures such as 10% ownership in every megacorporation. While those present may be more constitutional monarchists. Though the Grand Kingdom was still a developed, modern nation with most normal freedoms other than political freedoms.

Victor had been spending the few minutes since his arrival people watching, letting impressions and sensations flow over him like a gentle breeze. He was psychic per se, but he frequently managed intuative leaps when dealing with people; or at least that's how he liked to phrase it. It wasn't invasive, or even anything he had control of, it just was. At times, he fancied it a "gift" from the Wind Walker, but he didn't much remember that night oh so long ago, and he was reasonably certain that the Wind Walker wasn't one to give boons to the children of sorcerers.

He was more than a little amused at the swirling vortex of people around the Dread Lady. She had something of an unintentional cult of personality whenever she attended gatherings such as this. True, she was certainly a very interesting person (at least her dossier was interesting), but perhaps some ancient being had touched her as a child too. Would certainly explain a few things.

He found himself slowly turning his gaze, managing to meet Morrigan's eyes right as she extended her hand and greeting; mental wankery in action, it seemed. He returned her handshake with a smile; his hand was that of a diplomat's, not a worker's -- smooth, no callouses. Still, he wasn't a wet fish: there was still some iron in his grip, even if it was light, "Indeed, a lovely day. I did not realise that anyone was expecting my arrival, save whomever was responsible for receiving replies."

He smiled, bowing slightly to the two women, not seeming to even blink at the thought of a Nekoite -- that is, a Neko -- in a catsuit. There was the faint odor of nicotine hanging about him like a shroud; however, for someone who was practically a chain smoker, it was still very faint, almost at the periphery of one's senses. Even for those possessed of sensitive noses, "It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance, Madam Director. And your's as well, Miss Parris." He smiled again, eyebrows raised ever so slightly, inviting Morrigan to continue. It seemed pretty clear to him that she was her because of personal interest and not because some Grand High Poobah 'assigned' her to him.

The Emperor had been attempting to make some small talk among the various people that were attending this conference, when all of the sudden he was discreetly taken by someone

"Sir, a call for you"

"Thanks"

The Emperor took the call, and hearing of the developing crisis back home, gathered up all the members of the delegation that had come with him. While exiting the room, His Majesty asked one of the servants to pass on a message to Princess Ameria

"Your Majesty, my apologises for my and the members of my delegation sudden departure. I would have loved to continue onto the masquerade, however, a crisis has developed back in the Empire; we may very well soon be at war. For any of that to happen, I need to open Parliament."

The Emperor and the delegation were soon in the air, and heading home

Siobhan laughed pleasantly at the question, and even Finn cracked something of a grin.

"No no, I am quite ...unattached. And it looks to stay that way, for a while at least. I quite enjoy the single life, as it turns out."

She winked knowingly to the Princess, one woman to another. And she had been about to continue the conversation when a diginified looking couple made it clear they were headed in Siobhan and Alice's direction. Finn eyed them casually, but seemed to have discovered the ability to remain impassive. Siobhan nodded cordially to the Ambassador and his lovely wife in turn.

"It is an honor to meet you both. I look forward to speaking with the Princess as well."

Finn slipped into his role easily, taking it upon himself to formally announce the small group.

"Ambassador and Lady, may I introduce Siobhan Kelly, Sovereigness of Gaeltach, Princess Alice of Iansisle, and her companion the Duke of Dunerbridge."

ooc: Sorry, I missed one there methinks. Sorry ‘bout that, Imitora – it’s been a little wild on my end lately.

Most totally understandable. I've been busy meself, and wont actually be able to get a decent post up till tommorow evening. Just go ahead and assume Wick is standing there nodding politely and what not.

Alice responded to the wink with a slight grin, storing the information away. Then, following Siobhan's eyes, she also noticed the approach of Ambassador Gefron. A subtle nod to Finn thanked him for the introduction and a larger one to the Ambassador welcomed him.

"A pleasure to meet your Excellency," she said, this time more sure that the use of the honorific was accurate.

Meanwhile, Dunerbridge was eying Gefron up and down, trying doubtlessly to determine whether or not he was the social superior. Evidently satisfying himself in the ascendency of his ducal title, Dunerbridge puffed out his chest and made a polite -- but not deferential -- bow, his head hardly inclining more than an inch or two.

“Ciao, Ambassador and Lady Osiaun – do take care,” Nathicana says as the couple leaves. It would be interesting to converse with them later. They seemed rather overshadowed by the Princess while in the same company. An unfortunate side effect of longstanding royalty, she supposed.

Victor was here as well? Oh, she would definitely have to touch base with him at some point. It really was shaping up to be quite the party. Il Sultano seemed to be making the rounds as well still, and she couldn’t help but wonder just how successful he would be in expanding contacts and business opportunities.

Slick bastard.

“I make the time,” Nathicana answers with a smile. “As for the lack of private time overall, such is the price we pay for the responsibility of leadership. I have the offices where I work most of the time, and I have my villa for when I need more privacy, but one way or another, I am reachable, which is as it should be. I went to the work to wrest my nation from the grasp of my decidedly distasteful predecessor, I had best be prepared for the more difficult task of keeping it, no?”

“Which reminds me. How long as Aerion had an aristocracy?”

And how many generations does it take for a once strong leadership to degenerate into being unable to take care of themselves, more to point, she couldn’t help but think. There was something to be said for the old method of rule in the Dominion – those with the strength and resources to rule, did. The new methods implemented by her would no doubt have far reaching consequences, but she fervently hoped that the natural drive her people seemed to have, and the measures she had put in place, would prevent too much weakness creeping in. Only time would tell.

Princess to Nathicana

The Princess hmmed, "There was an artistocracy during the time of the First Kingdom under King Wasterin II, after his government fell the artistocrats were largely wiped out by the fascist self-proclaimed Divine Emperor. When King Wasterin X restored the Royal Family to the Throne after years of being held as prisoners in one of the wilderness Royal Estates by the Divine Emperor, the regime of the Prelacy after him, and the military dictatorship he did not restore the artistocracy as sadly most of the noble families had been killed off.

Some call the appointees of the Royal Government artistocrats as the appointments ar econtrolled by some families, and somewhat hereditary as they are at His Majesty's Pleasure or were, as well as the wealthy families of Aerion that control the megacorporations. Though I believe the Royal Government appointees would be more closer to an artistocracy the Grand Kingdom, per say.

The only ones with title, however, are the Royal Family. The Crown is still a fount of honour, but since my brother has not been crowned and has chosen not to be crowned most ignorantly..."

She pauses as if she said too much, she takes a sip of her wine as if breaking the subject

"Well it is simply suffice to say there is no one to grant titles of nobility at this time, though it will be decided by my brother if he is so crowned to grant titles of nobility once again or not.

As far as the actual Royal Government, the system seems to be working very well. Those who hold positions for long periods become accustomed to those positions, and are able to often better perform them over time or find someone who will perform them well under them."

She takes another sip of her wine. She received the message from the Emperor of Alexandrian Ptolemais, nodded to the messenger in affirmation.

Ambassador Gefron

The Ambassador bowed to Siobhan Sovereigness, "Ahh, Your Majesty." Then to Princess Alice, "Your Royal Highness." And so to the Duke, "Your Grace." "It is a pleasure to meet each of you."

His wife nodded, and smiled in turn though did not speak much yet.

Prince Ivan flicked the dying cigarette away and into the fountain rather carelessly. It was not as if the fountain water would turn to sludge with one cigarette butt in it anyway. Ivan arose from the fountain and his guards followed suit, although they were still enjoying their Autokratorikes. Ivan wanted to meet up with the group chatting in front of him and he approached them. Particularly, Princess Alice of Iansisle was a bit catching, although she did seem a little old for the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince was barely 19, perhaps one of the youngest amongst the chattering nobles at this gala. Ivan approached the group and his guards Vasily and Levon followed closely behind.

"Excuse me, Ladies and Gentlemen," Ivan said as he bowed before the group of people. "I am Prince Ivan Alexandrovich of House Borivich-Vassilakos-Seleukios... House Borivich for short. I represent The Grand Empire of Magnus Valerius, and it is a pleasure to meet all of you." Turning to Princess Alice, Ivan said with a pleasant smile, "And, you are, mi'lady?" Ivan bowed again, while Vasily and Levon looked on. Vasily puffed out a ring of smoke while Levon grunted.

Wickwire followed the conversation with interest, making note of specific information that would help him in later meetings. It was always good to gleam what information he could to respond to at a later time. He picked out the important points from the Princess's (ooc: yeah I know, bad spelling/grammer) brief history lesson.

Well it is simply suffice to say there is no one to grant titles of nobility at this time, though it will be decided by my brother if he is so crowned to grant titles of nobility once again or not.

This piqued Wickwire's attention formost. It had that deep, dark refrence to something that may or may not be a peacefull situation. It could mean many things, leading to a possible revolution, an over throw, a republic, a new king, anything.

"Your Highness, if I might. Why would your brother reject his crown? Does he not approve of monarchy, or is it for other reasons?"

He didn't want to ask the question, but something inside him forced him to ask. As much as he wanted to avoid business speak on such a trip, it was just part of his personality. He took a quiet sip from a glass of water he had procured, and listened intently.

"Illaan Soryaan. Duchess by appointment, but gods know I didn't want to deal with that mess..."

Illaan raised her glass to mirror the salute, and, of course, she probably didn't appear quite as stately, and the headpiece was still being... difficult.

"To the 'elite'. May they never be troubled by the demands of reality, on Earth or Mars," she said, ending it with a giggle. "You know, I hear that our arrival was a bit... out of the ordinary..."

---

Meanwhile, Lirella is undoubtedly chatting with Gregor about, well... something. The last thing Ilunaia hears before she breaks away in an attempt to speak with someone other than her mother - That is, to say, some other familiar figure, though hailing from a different nation - is something about Ravenspire and what an awful mess it must be.

Lirella's laugh carries rather well shortly afterwards, of course, and Ilunaia has slickly managed to make her way across the floor to introduce herself to Lady Nathicana.

After all, they were members of allied government, and she'd thought it appropriate to 'make the rounds' so to speak...

Well, she arrives just after the Princess finishes her anecdote.

Now, how to go about breaking into such a conversation... She may technically be a Princess herself, but she most assuredly does not feel like one, nor know how in the nine hells to act like one.

After all, she's a judge. So, she attempts a neutral but unoffensive interruption.

Unless, of course, it's offensive to interrupt. Which it probably is.

"Your Majesties..."

Ilunaia has little idea what to expect next, though if someone wishes to converse, at extreme length, concerning the differences between judicial systems, well, she's the right person to talk to.

Alice privately wondered just what exactly it was that this fellow Gefron wanted. He had interrupted a conversation between two members of royal families, one of them a monarch, and of yet had not done more than introduce himself and his wife. Her brown eyes probed him, searching his inner intent. She decided not to condescend to respond to his pleasure at meeting them, instead only nodding her head an inch to represent that, yes, it was a pleasure to meet her and he should feel damned honored by the privilege.

Alice had, of course, noticed the small Valerian delegation smoking off by the fountain. She knew who they were: Valerians. The provincial mannerisms, the style of dress, and the beards had all been dead giveaways. They were a tricky lot, the Valerians, in many ways taking after their Tsar and Alice knew that she would have to be on her guard to keep the Duke from blurting out anything particularly foolish. He had all the native Shieldian biases against their sort (confident that any given Shieldian man was the equal of ten Valerian peasants), but in the fight to regain the House of Callahan’s rightful position any ally was welcome.

The smell of tobacco smoke hovering around them transported Alice back in time to a half-forgotten memory from a lifetime ago: before the Revolution, long before it. It was 1938; James had been on the throne for only a year and a half. James, in his role as the Emperor of Gallaga, had decided that a royal tour of the subcontinent was in order. Alice, ten years old, had been part of his entourage.

They had hunted in the Royal Game Preserve at Hadalapur. Lord Charles, one of John Company’s men and a younger son of Earl St. Martin, had bagged the party’s first tiger. Alice remembered how unconquerable he had seemed, sighting the beast carefully and pulling the trigger. His face had been so tanned and creased by the Gallagan sun that he looked almost more native than Shieldian. She had quite the girlish crush on him, a man twenty years her senior. -- Perhaps a few years in Gallaga would do Lord Evanpass well? -- At night, when the oppressive heat of day had subsided somewhat, the men of the party would sit in the smoking room of the hunting lodge, boast of their exploits, and enjoy large, hand-rolled local cigars of the highest quality. Alice, sitting on her royal brother’s lap, had been the only female allowed to intrude into this den of testosterone.

These memories flashed through Alice’s mind as she listened to Prince Ivan introduce himself. There was something strange the way this boy -- she hadn’t been able to identify his age from a distance -- was carrying himself towards her, and it made her smile. Perhaps the memory of Lord Charles hadn’t been quite so out of place? Alice left it to Lord Dunerbridge to introduce her.

“Princess Alice of Iansisle,” he said, perhaps a bit too gruffly. Alice needed to temper it a bit.

“Charmed, your Highness,” she said.

Princess Ameria

The Princess looked at Wickwire a moment, as if taken aback by the comment. She pauses, but then seems to seemingly elaborate the truth.

"My brother feels that it is too much power in the hands of an individual, even himself it seems. It may also be that King Wasterin X did not have any direct heirs, he is our uncle, and this puts him in a bit of a position. My brother would be the second ruling monarch of Aerion, for before we were all kept out of the government by the dictators. The Crown as an institution is very powerful, and the Royal Prerogatives of the Crown as decided by King Wasterin X are perhaps unprecedented in other nations. Though this is necessary, my uncle was very wise in this. The Crown owns 10% of every megacorporation in the Grand Kingdom. This is in order that we may maintain some economic order, and secure the economy. The megacorporations have most definitely stimulated the Grand Kingdom’s now free capitalism after the rule of the various dictatorial governments before, but they would rule if given the opportunity. We have a good relationship with the megacorporations, however.

Currently, the assets of the Crown are controlled by the Crown Board composed of my brother, myself, and our family and trusted individuals. We are only allowed to use approximately thirty percent of these assets, however, without someone wearing the Crown per the Royal Edict of King Wasterin II in the Second Kingdom. Though this precedent may be changed by my brother as Crown Prince, we choose not to.

My brother is currently the head of state, and has full powers though not all of the privileges as if he were crowned. This is unprecedented, and puts him in precarious position. My brother recently converted to Makan Buddhism, as you may have heard, and I feel this has temporarily clouded his judgment. Religion is not good for a ruler. Though he will soon be out of this...spell”

The Princess elaborated, to seem as if the Crown sounds like a good institution, but seemed to not respect her brother enough as she openly criticized his judgment.

She took a sip of her wine, glancing at the other attendees as she unconsciously arranged her necklace.

As Ilunaia approached, she smiled in greeting, “Your Highness.” She did not seem disturbed by the interruption, in fact she smiled, perhaps she was glad for a change of subject.

Royal Guard Captain Daerin, and the two Royal Guards stood still in their burgundy dress uniforms as they were accustomed to doing. Their eyes remained on the Princess, as the other plain suited Royal Guards monitored overall.



Ambassador Gefron

The Ambassador was about to perhaps make further conversation, until another high ranking royal joined the crowd. He half bowed and his wife did a small curtsey to the Valerian prince, “Your Imperial Highness.” The Ambassador spoke, then clasped his hands behind his back as he allowed the royalty to converse as he saw the Valerian Prince was trying to introduce himself to the Princess of Ianisle. His presence was perhaps unwarranted but he did not yet step away.

Wickwire nodded at the explination. "That sounds to bad, about your brother. I understand the need to go through, well, phases if you will, but when one is supposed to be a leader of a nation, it makes life ultimately difficult. If I may, are there any plans for someone else to take his place? It sounds as if your nation doesn't really worry about destabilization or such with the lack of a leader."

Wickwire caught himself, and started to back peddle. "I'm sorry, thats not my concern." He took another sip of water, and took a glance around the gardens. Beautiful weather we're having wasn't exactly the proper follow up, so instead, he took another sip of water, and tried to think of an escape.

He couldn't, so he simply excused himself, with a smile. "If you'll please excuse me, I think I'm going to go refresh my drink. Imperatrice, Your Highness, it has been a pleasure chatting with you. I hope to talk to you more later tonight."

Siobhan had been quietly wondering about the Ambassador's silence as well when the young Prince approached. She was slightly annoyed at his manner of approach, and more annoyed at his breach of protocol addressing the Princess before herself, but did not allow herself to linger on the matter. Finn was less subtly irked. Something about the youth rubbed him the wrong way, and his feathers bristled slightly in response. With a sharp look from the Sovereigness, he calmed down, but didn't allow his gaze to waver from the Prince from House Borivich.

Siobhan herself smiled curtly to the Ambassador, resigned herself to silence and watched the exchange between Alice and the young man.

OOC: Oh boy, is my face red! I looked all through for a reply from you and must have missed that about five times.

---

The High Queen smiled back a little uncertainly - weren't they all bound by tradition, they who sat the thrones of the world?

"There is no inconvenience, cousin," she replied, "Our hospitality is yours for as long as you should wish it."

"It - it's beautiful," she said, seeing the arrow - unable now to keep the slight tremor from her voice, hearing the tale of its origins - it brought home the absence of her father more strongly than even the title she now bore.

"I am - it's truly an honour," she continued, "I'll be sure to take good care of it ..."

Accepting the box, she handed it carefully on to the Chancellor.

---

"What a nice man," Miralia Kane remarked to the middle air, examining the ring Prince Ivan had given her. "I wonder what title this is for?"

Fitting it onto an already overjewelled finger, the Margravine smirked in pleasure and went off to find more guests to talk to. They were such an odd bunch, humans ...

---

"Oh, not expecting," Morrigan answered, which was true - everything was fated, but who knew fate? "But I found out that you were here and thought I might introduce myself - I was in your nation some time ago, before the present government, and I thought I might introduce myself. It's good to see another old timer." *

---

"I sympathise," Sal replied, "Although my Ancestors know Carlsmark is hardly messy. Most of them are responsible for that.

"Mars? Ah yes, you would be with the Kajali delegation. Yes, I heard about that - I dare say your ... ship? will be all over the tabloids tomorrow. I don't believe Her Majesty has had visitors from off-planet before."

OOC:* Hope you don't mind me taking this liberty.

OOC: I'm back. Could someone possibly summarise the latest events? I don't want the whole thread, just the last few pages.

OOC: People have been talking to other people. Or at least trying to. More than that costs you extra.

IC:

Il Sultano continues grinning, but not in the happiest of ways, as he pockets his business card. "These people, they're not exactly the most burdened with an overabundance of situational awareness, neh?" This he says through the side of his grin to the Enforcer, who simply nods. While everyone else has been mingling like so many bits of wrapping paper in a little whirling city vortex, he's been standing here holding out his card to people who may as well have been made of plaster. Ergo, looking like a chump.

"Ah well." He turns car-salesman friendly again towards the Pats Atoll crowd. "If you cats ever need anyone to do business with, well, I stand out in a crowd, so they say." He chuckles slyly. "And if I don't, this brute sure does," he says with one thumb stuck towards the Enforcer. "Clearly you're meditatin' or somethin' so I'll not disturb your chi or whatever. Ciao."

At that point, it's time to cockwalk confidently back into the crowd and find some other grouping to barge into. Lessee. Old guy staring off into the distance. Naw. Too Waiting-For-God for my blood. The Nathi... naw, brood's still in tow, not the wisest idea. Too bad, 'cause the bird's she's with is wearing something funny on her head and for some reason strange headgear seems to go with bizness. Hmm. More fancy-pants noble-types giving some guy the cold shoulder. A course set, Venditti's strutting takes him in a broad arc over to behind the ambassador, who he taps lightly on the shoulder before deftly stepping back a pace.

Old habit from since before he was Sultano. Some people don't take lightly to having their attention grabbed.

"Sorry to pull you away, baby," he says in his typically smooth-as-gastropodal-slime voice, before dropping it a bit in a comradely and slightly conspiratorial fashion, "but it looks like you rubbed the sovranità the wrong way. Let's say you and me step back, talk a little bizness, and then we can try again with a bit more finesse, eh?"

He pauses for a moment, then chuckles. "Then again, perdonomi, I'm not bein' the most gracious myself. Il Sultano Bonsignore Venditti, head of the God-fearing business of Moneylaunderingstan."

Flick.

Business card.

OOC: One more question, is this the Costume party part, or did I miss that?

“Sounds as though your nation has had a history of challenges,” Nathi replies tactfully. “It’s good to see you’ve risen to the challenge, yes?”

She is somewhat relieved that Wickwire chooses to broach the subject of the Princess’s brother, as she was a bit curious as well, arching a brow slightly as the answer comes.

Being a nation who had gone from city-states to dictators to the current new system, the problems inherent were fairly familiar, still. Too much power? That was the whole idea, was it not? After all, with the right group of ministers and such to competently carry out aspects of the governance under a proper leader’s watchful eye, it only made sense, to avoid the chaos of too many competing interests driving the government into a state of ineffectuality.

Of course the worry of groups gaining too much power was also a familiar one, as was the relationship mentioned between business and government – similar things existed in the Dominion, after all. But the idea of assets being controlled by some board, and limits and allowances being forced on them? Granted, she had never abused the control, but still, she found the idea offensive.

“I don’t see why religion, in and of itself, is ‘bad’ for a ruler,” she says thoughtfully, noting the inferences made there. “So long as it does not impair their ability to lead, in any case. Take Speaker-Rrit of Scolopendra – both Supreme Emperor, and Patriarch, that is to say religious leader, of his people. I’ve yet to see his religion be anything but a strength for him, nor have I known him to lead his nation astray. Then again, not all are able to keep a proper balance, I suppose.”

Ilunaia’s arrival indeed offers a good break, and Nathicana smiles and nods as well. “Your Grace,” she offers, belatedly hoping she recalled the title of Duchess correctly, only to be distracted by Wickwire’s response. Pity he had to go – she rather liked his ability to blend and relax enough to simply socialize, regardless of titles or supposed divisions.

“Grazie, Signore – likewise. I look forward to it,” she says to the man, with a genuine smile. “At least permit me to introduce an ally of mine before you go. Her Grace Ilunaia Keral-Kavar, the Duchess of Kajal Mars, if I remember correctly? Ilunaia, Princess Ameria Wasterin of Aerion,” she continued, gesturing to indicate, “and Mr. Jerrick Wickwire of Imitora. Now at least you wont’ be strangers if you run into one another later.”






ooc: Ri-an … read. Just like the rest of us. Summary? People are meeting and greeting, simple as that. Details were given in the first post. Socialize, then dinner, then Masquerade.

Karaka stepped out of his room, in a very nice suit. He checked the time. Oh Goody, he hadn't missed the costume part yet. He loved costume parties.

He stepped out into the hall, where everyone was meeting.

He noticed everyone gathered.

"Whew. Haven't seen this many people in one spot, since I caught the Fiend Kraken." He said quietly to himself.

Still, not being the overly social type, he drifted here and there by people, incase anyone cared to strike up a conversation until the events started.

The Queen take the High Queen’s hand and gently pats it and smiles, to show she knows the pain the High Queen appears to be feeling.

“Well cousin I feel I have monopolized enough of your time, I best take my leave and allow you to continue with your preparations.”

With that the Queen and her aide curtsy and made their way back to their rooms, on the way they stop a servant and ask where the majority of the guests had congregated. After freshening up in their rooms the Amazonian Empire delegation made their way to the gardens.

Victor smiled a little, "Well, I am glad that I am such a point of interest." He slightly raised an eyebrow at her comment about having visited the Hack before the present government, "Really? You visited while the Union was in control? Fascinating. I am curious as to what you thought of it. I think it is safe to say that I did not much care for how they ran things," he chuckled softly. Of course he didn't care for how the Union ran things; he was one of the major actors leading up to the Corporate Rebellion, after all.

He smiled enigmatically at her, almost looking as if he was sizing her up, "Tell me, madam... how old do you think I am?" He certainly didn't look older than his mid-forties.

"A pleasure," Ilunaia responded. "Though technically, Soryaan is still the 'Duchess' until the end of the month, after which she's stepping down and going on a very, very long vacation, I hear."

Of course, when the title of Duchess of Kajal Mars was a matter of appointment, granted by the Imperatrix, it was rather... logical, that her daughter would be next in line. Soryaan had managed it in an altogether aggressive way, due to certain nations that had recently ceased, and it _was_ about time for her to take a long-deserved vacation.

And at the least, such would keep Mars off her mind for once.

"Now, if anything, at least Mars will be... less anarchic, as a whole, especially without the presence of certain destabilizing elements, even though the circumstances of their departure were somewhat tragic."

“Ah, beg pardon, didn’t mean to overstep there. As for Mars, a bit more order and stability there can only be for the good,” Nathicana says. “Tragic, perhaps, but in this particular case I’m afraid that I can’t say as it’s a tragedy to see some of them gone. It’s simply a pity that things fell out the way they did to accomplish the ends.”

She then moves on to a more pleasant subject, all things considered, without trying to take the conversation too far ahead. “I hope you and yours are enjoying yourselves so far?”

The only C’tan present, in either sense of the word, wandered into the gardens with a satisfied look, one that bespoke some strange enjoyment of the environment around him that wasn’t quite conventional. Where he trod, grass blades were unbowed and unbroken, and with him, Sirithil’s footsteps seemed no heavier.


Meanwhile, Maglor kept to the paths, swirling robes billowing out at each turn, with him, another tall elf strode. Glorfindel stopped suddenly as he caught sight of what had garnered Maglor’s attention.

He seemed to be distracted momentarily, and then, unusually, even disoriented.

“Is something the matter?” Maglor asked, turning. He’d never seen the other elf act like that, and had indeed, rarely seen any elves behave in such a manner.

“No… Not yet,” Glorfindel said.


Serendis, and family, meanwhile, sauntered around indoors, for a time, looking to see what could be seen of the local palace.

Siobhan could manage a great deal of patience, but it wearied her to do so. After the young Prince's rude approach and the Ambassador's silence, she was content to wait a few minutes and see how things played out. When Il Sultano pulled the Ambassador aside, she had smiled politely (if not a little coldly) and glanced casually to Finn. He was growing agitated, but hid it well.

"Princess Alice, if you would excuse me, perhaps we can continue our conversation another time."

She nodded a polite farewell to Princess and Duke alike, summarily disregarded the young prince, and gracefully walked away with Finn in tow. Once they were a comfortable distance removed from the situation, Finn shifted his wings irritably.

"Patience, Finn.. the night hasn't even begun. Don't let such paltry things upset you. Let's finish this lap of the gardens, then head inside to prepare, hm?"

Finn composed himself beautifully and nodded.

Karaka was walking near the garden, just killing time, then he paused.

Elves? Marvelous! I'm not the only one here that isn't limited by the mundane technology in this scale. I wonder if they know space flight.

But Karaka wouldn't approach them, they seemed to be enjoying themselves out in the garden.

Prince Ivan smiled and gingerly picked up Princess Alice's hand and gave it a light kiss. "The pleasure is mine, milady." Ivan then stepped back and nudged Vasily. The two guards picked up their shoulders hastily (and looked almost goofy) as they managed an improvised salute. "Magnus Valerius salutes The House of Callahan!" Vasily and Levon said in unison. Vasily then leered at the Duke, his stiff, bristly and golden beard hiding a sneer of distrust. While the Duke Dunerbridge believed that Valerians were never equivalent in worth to a fair Shieldian, Vasily believed that Shieldians have no honor, and would sooner wet themselves than wield a sword. However, Ivan found the Shieldians to be good company and did not hesitate to give them all of the proper niceties of a true Valerian gentleman.

Ivan smiled, "I am certainly quite honored to be here, as your ally. My father, the Tsar Alexander III, sends his regards." Ivan clasped his hands and continued, "I am glad that you seem very well, milady... are you, in fact, well?" Ivan was about to continue with the introductions before he noticed that he had broken into a ring of socialites from various countries rather abruptly, and caught some perturbed gazes from the Gaeltachian delegation (Siobhan and Finn). The Ambassador from Aerion also gave a rather unpleasing look.

"Oh, where are my manners?" the prince said. "I am sorry, but what are all of your names and where do you all hail from? It is a pleasure meeting you all." Vasily turned his gaze from the Duke towards the (presumably) Celtic Gaeltachians, the male in the group wary of the young prince. 'Arnachian scum... they are indeed brethren to Arnachians; they have it written all over their faces,' he thought as he frowned in dismay at Finn.

After Ivan made his apologies and after Vasily turned away from Finn, Ivan continued the conversation. "So tell me, princess, about yourself... I am interested. Maybe I will let you know a little about myself, although as a prince from Magnus Valerius, I can probably skip the obvious parts about leisure, luxury, and Orthodoxy." Ivan smiled at his own little joke of the unofficial tenets of the House Borivich. 'Maybe she would like to dance at the masquerade ball later,' thought the prince. 'But maybe that wretch next to her is her commitment.'

As the Amazonian delegation entered the gardens the queen takes a quick look around and spotting a group talking in the garden, the queen and her companions make their way over. Then waiting until there is a lull in the conversation, the queen introduces herself.

Good day I am Cynthia Ambrosias Queen of the Amazonian Empire and it is my honor to make your acquaintances

[OOC: If its too late to arrive just yell :o I’ve taken the liberty of skipping the first set of communications confirming arrival to save time. Hope its not an inconvenience. Oh and for those who know what I mean, Clodius is currently human form.]

Sir Clodius Maxilimus could count a vast array of titles under his name, from his positional rank of Lord of Navarrok to various subtler titles from numerous duels and combats from his long and, needless to say, eventful life. However, as far as he was concerned, his only title of import was his name, his legacy from and to his Clann, and the reputation or lack thereof attached to it.

Titles aside, he did at least look good, or at the least powerful. Still an active warrior in the truest sense of the world (and, to boot, the head of a society in which advancement and position were based on physical strength) meant he carried himself stiffer and straighter than most, moving in sweeping direct moves rather than the lofty graces that most royalty possessed, an aura of directness, of a man who knew what he wanted specifically. He looked, and indeed to a lesser extent given his charge here was, ready for combat were it not for the dress uniform rather than BDUs or armour that he was wearing. He checked himself in the mirror one last time, clean shaven, short cut black hair, fangs barely visible in his closed lips.

His clothing was a military style tunic, double breasted with golden buttons and epaulets, completely black with an almost metallic shine, spartan in the number but exquisite in the quality of its ornaments. It fitted perfectly, flowing over his muscular, six foot frame with creaseless perfection. From his waist hung a white, gold threaded belt, sharply contrasted against the black dress trousers and carrying a very practical looking three foot blade that vaguely resembled a naval cutlass, though carried heavier and with much more decoration along its sheath. Its grip protruded from the sheath, undecorated save for the thin steel chain, decorated with small teeth from some desert animal, and on his chest sat an arrangement of medals, all from combat bravery, glistening in the light.

His companion, his charge, so to speak, was the official representative of the Freethinker government, Princess Cyriana, the youngest child and only daughter of the current King, a five foot brunette (not surprisingly, given blonds were almost unheard of in the Commonwealth) with a petite frame and a relatively waif-like figure. At eighteen this was her first official engagement as representative of both her family and the Commonwealth, and even Clodius couldn’t help feeling sorry for her given her experience and the weight placed upon her shoulders.

Still, she at least looked the part. Her dress was in fact a well-tailored example of Freestian desert robes, folds of light, sky blue, almost transparent material woven in a surprisingly modest cut, though any strong light she walked by would certainly had revealed more than she would have wanted were it not for a darker chemise she wore underneath. The dress hung from her shoulders in a long v-neck, and the bottom of the robes drifted scant centimetres above the ground. Her jewellery, like the decoration of Clodius’ uniform, was spartan but finely crafted, a fine necklace of diamonds and moonstones mounted in gold, and small matching earrings that complemented her face. She was naturally beautiful, an image of her mother in younger days, and yet she still found reasons to despair as she gave herself one final look in her own mirror, hand weaving through her hair and pouting at the reflection.

“Do I look good?” She asked needlessly. Clodius grunted an affirmative, causing
Cyriana to look back in want of a more detailed answer.

“Of course,” he answered properly. You’ve looked good enough for the last hour. Given how late…” He checked a discrete watch hidden up his sleeve. “Holy hell, we need to get a move on. You do honestly look fine.” She grinned weakly, though her face fell almost instantly. Clodius bit his lip for a second, and then spoke calmer words as she looked back up at him.

“Don’t worry yourself. Just be calm and relaxed, trust me, you will be fine.”

She looked at him again, smiling at last, though whether genuine or not, Clodius couldn’t tell. The plane’s interior lights dimmed as the door opened, letting in a cool rush of air that caused Clodius to shiver.

“Now let’s get a move on.” He muttered through clenched teeth, peering down the gangway. Behind a few attendants mustered, but no bodyguards would be needed, not given Cyriana’s escort for the night. Tucking her thin hand around his muscular arm, she leaned her head against his shoulder and followed him down to the waiting cars.

Princess Ameria Wasterin

The Princess smiled graciously to the Duchess, "Your Grace. Ahh, yes, Mars. It is a very chaotic place, many young colonies there comparatively to their parent nations. I would say a new planet means a new culture, yes?" She glanced at Nathicana. She placed her empty wine glass on a passing tray, one wine before dinner would be sufficient, or should be.

The Royal Guard stood quietly, though the Captain seemed interested in the conversation as his eyes showed active attention to those present.

Ambassador Gefron

The Ambassador and his wife were somewhat stunned as the man pulled him away, wondering why a simple conversation could not be in order for the crowd as people interfered or were pulled away. He glanced at the man, "Excuse me sir, may I ask what is it you want?" He said quiet curtly, wondering why the man shuffled him away so quickly. His wife stood there glancing around in that embarrased old lady way.



OOC: Sorry I was out of town for 3 days without internet access.

Ilunaia smiled. "I'm afraid that I'm not particularly used to these events, personally, though I must say, the gardens look simply beautiful... They remind me of home, in their own way."

"New culture, indeed... for all of the troubles of the planet, there's so much more to be discovered, and to learn about one's neighbors... it's quite fascinating, to me, and I suppose you can say it's exciting... All you need to do is hop on the train and it'll whisk you off to someplace exotic, at least in the terms of the people."

---

Soryaan smiled at the comment concerning the tabloids. "Between you and me, Lirella probably does it for the attention. She'll have all the tabloids for the next two weeks on it. She always does this, too, setting down like it's completely normal for everyone...

Quirks of being the leader, I suppose." Soryaan laughed as she had a rather large sip of her drink.

---

As for Lirella? Her brief dialogue with Gregor had finished up about when she spied, of all people, Ranisath and Sirithil wandering the gardens.

Which, of course, meant immediate interception. Even if they wanted to be alone.

Because, well, they just loved her company that much. Or, at least, that was the impression she'd gotten.

Not wanting to be yelling over the crowd, of course, the rarely used 'other' abilities came into play.

The same effect could be gained by simply screaming "DAAAAHLINK! How good to see you!"

At any rate, Lirella was almost running over to them. It could have looked almost ridiculous.

"Princess Alice, if you would excuse me, perhaps we can continue our conversation another time."

She nodded a polite farewell to Princess and Duke alike, summarily disregarded the young prince, and gracefully walked away with Finn in tow.

"A pleasure meeting your Majesty," said Alice before Siobhan walked off. The rather abrupt departure worried her somewhat; hopefully, it was merely the sudden group which had apparated around them that had caused Siobhan to stalk off. Trying not to worry about it, she turned her attention back to Ivan.

The two guards picked up their shoulders hastily (and looked almost goofy) as they managed an improvised salute. "Magnus Valerius salutes The House of Callahan!" Vasily and Levon said in unison. Vasily then leered at the Duke, his stiff, bristly and golden beard hiding a sneer of distrust.

The Duke of Dunerbridge bowed stiffly in return.

Ivan smiled, "I am certainly quite honored to be here, as your ally. My father, the Tsar Alexander III, sends his regards." Ivan clasped his hands and continued, "I am glad that you seem very well, milady... are you, in fact, well?"

After Ivan made his apologies and after Vasily turned away from Finn, Ivan continued the conversation. "So tell me, princess, about yourself... I am interested. Maybe I will let you know a little about myself, although as a prince from Magnus Valerius, I can probably skip the obvious parts about leisure, luxury, and Orthodoxy." Ivan smiled at his own little joke of the unofficial tenets of the House Borivich. 'Maybe she would like to dance at the masquerade ball later,' thought the prince. 'But maybe that wretch next to her is her commitment.'

"Very well, your highness, as one might expect at a party," replied Alice. She was trying to judge Ivan's age; she knew he was young, but these damnable Valerian beards disguised exact age. Ballpark? Early twenties -- perhaps twenty-two.

Ivan's series of questions unnerved her somewhat. "There's really not all that much to tell," she said. "I'm the fifth of five children -- Jessica, Elizabeth, James, and Brian. I had a very happy childhood."

She debated a moment mentioning her Catholicism. Probably not the best idea; Magnus Valerius was too valuable of an ally against the Republic to lose because of sectarian differences. Alice was vaguely aware that the Tsar is Valeria wielded far more power than her brother ever had; if she alienated young Ivan, she might lose the entire country for the Callahans.

It was in this brief moment of silence that Lord Dunerbridge launched himself into the conversation.

"I've never much held with facial hair, your Highness," he interjected, "as I find it too ticklish for the ladies. But you wear it very well! -- and then, what would a Valerian be without his beard, what?"

Alice froze.

"I'm sure what his Grace meant..." she started, then paused. What on earth had he meant? Even Dunerbridge seemed to realize that he had said something wrong. He tried to compensate with another "eh, what?" as if perhaps Ivan hadn't gotten the innate humor in Valerian style.

The Maple Palace, in the Federal Monarchy of New Katagan

Baroness Élisabeth Vêrtha Alätégiel waited impatiently in a quiet corner of the Maple Palace’s patio gardens, drawing a long, deep breath of refreshingly scented air from the nearby hedge of scarlet roses. Adjusting her soft, lustrous flaxen hair and couture evening dress (which, in the event, did not actually require any real straightening), the noblewoman cast a probing eye over the sculpted grounds, gradually taking in a charming scene of numerous, elegantly attired personages chatting ever so pleasantly with one another. At present, Élisabeth remained quietly aloof from the great throng, although she studied the various guests with critical interest. Eventually, the noblewoman’s attention was diverted by an impetuous tap on her delicate shoulder, and Baroness Vêrtha Alätégiel quickly spun around with an arch smile.

‘My dearest creature, where have you been?’ asked Élisabeth with playfully feigned annoyance, her clear voice, with its silvery, musical quality, of unexampled loveliness. The individual before her was Viscountess Pénélope Várnwëniel, a lady whom the baroness was particularly fond of and through whom she maintained her connection with one of Neúvenärta’s most fashionable aristocratic circles. ‘Have you any notion at all of how long I’ve been waiting for you here?’

‘Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry, Élisabeth. Truly, I had thought that I was absent only for a moment,’ smiled the viscountess, showing off a neat row of pearly white teeth. For her own part, Pénélope had (since their very first encounter, many years ago) especially liked Élisabeth. Through her ties with Élisabeth, Viscountess Várnwëniel had cultivated a close acquaintance with none other than Countess Eléanor Sabëlinà herself, prominent foreign minister of the Xirniumite Government and head of the extremely influential, ancient aristocratic family of House Numêsalquó. ‘Have I really kept you waiting over long?’

‘Yes, indeed. You said that you would be gone for only the briefest moment, and I have been left here all alone this half hour at least!’ exaggerated Baroness Vêrtha Alätégiel. ‘Have you any idea at all how terribly bored I am?’ she complained weakly.

‘Pray forgive me, my dear creature. Fear not, what I have brought back for you shall surely improve your injured spirits,’ grinned Pénélope.

The noblewoman proudly produced an elegant large flagon of wine with a long, thin neck, held lightly in one of her slender hands. Politely gesturing for Élisabeth to hold out her empty crystal glass, the viscountess duly poured her friend a drink of fortified black current wine. Judging by the nature of their overly excited gossiping and frequent, vivacious giggling, it was quite obviously apparent that this was by no means the first wine flask that the two had embarked together on, nor was it very likely to be tonight’s last.

‘What thinkest thou of these bizarre kitten-like people, Élisabeth?’ asked Viscountess Várnwëniel. Fortunately, the noblewoman had just enough sense of propriety to speak in ancient High Xirnian, a tongue with which the chance of causing offence to her oddly feline hosts would be quite minimal. Such was probably all for the best, it seemed, because neither of the ladies bothered to speak in particularly quiet a tone. Very likely, in fact, their delightfully chirpy, euphonious voices were clearly heard by many nearby.

‘Oh, they seem harmless enough,’ replied Élisabeth, although the frowning shape of her lovely small mouth betrayed something akin to distaste. ‘I heard tell that their race was the result of a strange, tragic genetic accident, or something of that nature. I rather think, Pénélope, that they deserve our tender compassion,’ explained Baroness Vêrtha Alätégiel, undoubtedly quite unaware of the haughtiness of her sentiment. Like her friend, Élisabeth also spoke in the melodious dead language of her noble ancestors.

‘Dost thou think they would chase a ball of twine?’ mused Pénélope, slowly bringing a wineglass to her ruby coloured, lipstick-coated lips as she pondered the possibilities thoughtfully. ‘Or maybe lap a saucer of milk?’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘I’m deadly serious, Élisabeth. Why don’t we try and find out?’

The two noblewomen (now deeply involved in delightfully frivolous chatter) seemed both to be quite stunningly attractive, their physical forms the classical archetype of Xirniumite beauty. Of above average height, with somewhat aquiline noses, sharp cheekbones and dazzlingly fair skin, the ladies possessed the graceful appearance of sylphlike slenderness. Whilst her lovely friend had masses of long golden blonde hair and pale sapphire eyes, Pénélope’s own eyes were shadowy slate grey and piercing, her unbridled hair (which cascaded down the viscountess’ exquisitely feminine-shaped back) a dark chestnut brown colour.

The Xirniumite haute couture and designer wear industries had long held a renowned international reputation for stylish pre-eminence, and the luxurious finery that the two noblewomen were attired in tonight aptly demonstrated exactly why. Both Élisabeth and Pénélope wore the most becoming and sumptuous of evening gowns in patterned taffeta and guipure lace, with tight-fitting bodices, decorative brocade overskirts and immensely long trains. Current Xirniumite fashion favoured a vaguely classically-inspired flavour, striving for an elegant lightness and a transparency of expensive fine fabrics. An almost quite daring décolletage was, of course, an integral feature of both couture creations; with the bosom partly veiled with thin, insubstantial tulle gauze in Pénélope’s case. Trains and skirts alike exhibited brilliant colour, lavish embroidery, and elegant gold and silk weft trimming.

The talented Iáthërnian couturier that had designed Pénélope’s evening gown had evidently been rather fond of the colour purple, and the baroness’ lovely dress was thus a brilliant shade of amethyst. Her noble friend, by contrast, was utterly sublime in a flowing confection of lilac. Both ladies wore long, scented gloves, their feet graced by stylishly high stiletto heels. Élisabeth wore a dashing, fringed and tasselled cape, whilst her friend had over her shoulders a flamboyantly chic, white mink fur stole. Although the baroness adorned her fashionable golden coiffure with a delightful carnation in full blossom, Pénélope wore atop her crown a dainty, silver gilt coronet, under which curling brunette hair streamed down her lovely neck and bosom in a profusion of stylishly tousled ringlets.

‘Come, come, let us walk, dearest creature,’ said Pénélope after a while. Lighting a luxurious, opium-laced cigarette that was held at the end of an elegantly long and slender, polished ebony and silver holder, she led her friend away from the hedge of roses, congenially arm in arm with the baroness.

‘Pray do tell, Pénélope, just where are we going?’ asked Élisabeth at last. As the two passed a liveried attendant, Baroness Vêrtha Alätégiel took the opportunity to exchange her now quite empty wine goblet for a glass of white vermouth and peach bitters, which smelled a mixture of juniper and cloves.

‘Oh, I wanted to show you this charming little fountain that I spied just a moment ago.’

Ambassador Gefron

The Ambassador and his wife were somewhat stunned as the man pulled him away, wondering why a simple conversation could not be in order for the crowd as people interfered or were pulled away. He glanced at the man, "Excuse me sir, may I ask what is it you want?" He said quiet curtly, wondering why the man shuffled him away so quickly. His wife stood there glancing around in that embarrased old lady way.
"Like I said, just milling about and doin' my good deed for today, that bein' making sure feathers don't get ruffled in a way so they don't get smoothed back down." Piranha grins something like his namesake and looks down at his hand. "Anyway, my card, and guess you'd got the advantage on me now. Whaddya go by, kind sir?"

Jas took the opportunity of being outdoors to enjoy another cigarette, the strong scent of cloves soon wafting from his direction as he idly puffed away while keeping a sharp eye on those he’d been hired to protect, and the folks coming and going through the area.

Lotta bigwigs, lotta different nations represented, and all the fluff that went along with it. Never had been his sort of scene, but hey – it was good money, and given the nature of things, easy money at that.

The team seemed to be running smoothly, as expected. With the exception of that odd chippie earlier, there didn’t seem to be too much potential for trouble, even with the arrival of Il Sultano, whom Jas knew by reputation. Businessman indeed, and a useful one, if you could come away from the deal with all your fingers. Man knew his work, and Jas very much doubted that included causing any real problems here, unless one of the uppity royals or the like chose to make an issue over nothing. Fair ‘nuff.

Gianni had the ‘lil ankle-biters well in hand, bless ‘em, and they seemed to be enjoying themselves well enough. Managed so far not to muss the pretty clothes they had on for the occasion, which was something in and of itself right there. Wouldn’t have ever figured Nath for the motherly type before seeing her with ‘em, but hey. People sometimes changed. Lord knew she had in many ways over the years.

She was having a fair enough time, so far as he could tell. Looked relatively relaxed, if mildly overpolite, which could mean a number of things he supposed. He’d been ready for just about anything when she’d faced down that woman though. Thought she was gonna go through the roof there for a moment, knowing her temper. Crazy shit like that just seemed to pop up now and then. Probably a damn good thing the kids were around, and it was so public a setting.

As he continued to watch thoughtfully, signaling the others now and then as they checked in with one another, Nathi nodded and smiled in response to those she was visiting with, though she cast a lingering glance over to where the children were now playing ‘ring-around-Gianni’.

“Mars can be an interesting place indeed now and then. I’m still amazed to be involved there after our attempts to be anything but. Still, so far it’s paid off. Your Highness, Ilunaia, if you would excuse me, I want to go get the little ones settled somewhat. We’re expecting a summons to pay our respects to the new Queen soon, and I’d like to make sure they’re presentable. To you both, it’s been a pleasure – and I look forward to perhaps seeing you both later, should the opportunity arise.”

And with a gracious nod to each, she took her leave, going over to Gianni and the children, and bending carefully at the knees to get down more to their level so she could talk quietly with them, and start straightening their hair and clothing somewhat.

Lirella’s assessment of Ranisath’s feelings was indeed correct, he embraced her warmly as she strode over, wrapping his hands around her waist, caressing her back and swatting her backside, after taking a moment to ensure that it was unobserved by any around in a manner that bespoke more than a little intimacy. He kissed her too, leaning her back a touch as he did so, before releasing her and making way for Sirithil, who embraced Lirella in the same fashion, though didn’t kiss her, “How delightful to see you,” he said, “Always, without exception, a treat,” he added as Siri carefully, deftly manoeuvred her between the two of them, “Are you enjoying Katagan so far?”

Ivan listened as Alice started to meekly talk about her life. She didn't seem to want to give Ivan much information, but the young prince replied regardless with his own background. "Ah, the youngest, eh? I happen to be the eldest in my family of eleven children. I am... not really my father's favorite son, even though I'm his heir. He likes my younger brother Pyetr and Aleksei. I also had another brother who was taken by tuberculosis a while back, by the name of Grigori. The rest are girls, including my twin sister Constantina, Queen Consort of Brasland." Ivan sighed. It's been awhile since he'd heard from Constantina, who was the person he got along with most in his family. Brasland was a rather unknown place and far off from The Grand Empire.

While a silence fell upon them, Lord Dunerbridge hopped into the conversation with a crude joke. The joke left Prince Ivan bewildered, but it infuriated Vasily (who also did not really understand what the Lord Dunerbridge had meant). "Papal Dog!" Vasily spat at Lord Dunerbridge as he reached for his sword. "You take that ba-..."

It was at that instant that Ivan turned around and gave Vasily a stern look. Vasily, who was taller than the prince and stronger, suddenly fell silent and sighed. Vasily bowed and uttered an apologetic, "Forgive me."

This gave Ivan the opportunity to make a rebuttal of Lord Dunerbridge's rather odd joke. "Well, you may find it ticklish, but for all the women I know, they enjoy the warmth of a manly beard on one's chin. All the women in Valeria go nuts over such a symbol, and any man worthy of being called a man should have one... you should try growing one yourself, otherwise you'd be considered effeminate if you visited Isangrad." Ivan smiled and Levon chuckled a little. Vasily stood silent, but returned at watching Lord Dunerbridge in case he gets a little fired up over Ivan's little verbal punch.

"I'm sorry for my guard's outburst," Ivan said. "He is from the State of Romanovna, particularly on the border with the State of Baden. The Badenese are Germanics and Catholics, and Vasily here had his father killed by a lunatic Catholic... he is always a little restive since then with anyone."

The Most Glorious Hack:

Morrigan smiled back equally enigmatically.

"A little over half my age, I'd say," she replied to Victor, "But that is a secret - a lady never tells, after all!"

Kajal:

Sal Davidson chuckled. "Well, if you want quirky leadership, you've come to the right place - we've Margraves, Landgravines, Barons, Knights of the Realm - that's not even the civil government, and they're all crazy.

"Save for Her Majesty, of course," he added a moment later - Sal might be a cynic, but to insult the High Queen would be a little irreverent even for him. "She hasn't had time to go crazy yet."

The Freethinkers:

"Your Highness, Lord Maxilimus? The Lady Megumi is honoured to welcome you to New Katagan."

The Companion waiting on the tarmac for the Freethinker delegation looked every bit as Oriental as her name - slender, pale, dark-haired, almond-eyed - but wore a silk gown of a Western cut. She bowed deeply to the Princess and the Lord.

"If you will follow her," she continued, "The Lady will guide you to the Maple Palace."

Dread Lady Nathicana:

The crowds parted to admit a Companion, the same blue-haired, blue-clad Lady Alannis who had met the Kajali at the airport.

"Imperatrice? The Lady Alannis is most sorry to interrupt, but Her Majesty is now prepared to receive your audience."

She bowed politely, and led Nathicana's delegation through the airy halls of the Palace. The scene presented in the audience chamber was much the same as the one presented to the Amazonians; Mira Denikarev occupying the centre of attention, with her Chancellor and her Handmaiden fading into the background.

"Cousin." the High Queen rose, as before, to bestow the kisses of greeting upon Nathicana's cheeks. "Your presence is welcome to us."

All this, of course, was ritual; both shackles and sanctuary to the young High Queen.

OOC: Many apologies for the delay, people - inspiration has been difficult to muster for a variety of reasons. Hopefully it shall progress better henceforth.

Nathicana thanks the Companion, and follows her to the audience chamber, taking each of her children by the hand, reminding them in hushed tones to remember their manners, and to address the new queen as ‘your Majesty’ when spoken to. All but herself and the children, along with the ever protective Jas, Pascalli, and Masetti stop outside the hall, with the three accompanying bodyguards stopping a few paces inside it to offer the monarchs some privacy.

She returns the greeting with a pleasant smile, then steps back again with the little ones, choosing for now not to make introductions, as it seems certain the young queen has already been informed of who they are, given her greeting. “It is an honor to be able to accept your gracious hospitality. My congratulations on your ascension.”

With a slight gesture she summons up Mas, who produces a bottle of wine which he hands to her with a bow before stepping back again.

“If I may, it has been a tradition to offer a bottle of our finest to our hosts,” she says, offering it over. “From my own vineyards, and I daresay, one of my favorites. And on a more personal note,” she continues, nodding to the children who step forward, and with a little quiet encouragement, they bow and curtsey in hesitatingly childlike fashion, and shyly offer over a flat box between them.

“We would also be honored if you would accept this in honor of your coronation.”

Inside the box is a three-stranded necklace (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v213/Nathicana/NationStates/01c163.jpg?t=1174541216) of pearls that comes together to dangle each of the strands in front from a delicate diamond clasp.

A sharp heel on the top of the foot, only somewhat hidden by Alice’s long dress, cut the Duke short before he could even open his mouth to articulate ‘schismatic scalawag!’, ‘heretical hooligan!’, or another appropriately alliterative insult. Instead he winced in pain and had to bite down on his tongue to keep from crying out. Alice found that instinct for the best; a cry would have only resulted in this momentary flare of tempers escalating into a scandal, in the fullest connotation of that word. All that was left for damage control was cutting the cancer from the scene. She could practically hear the Duke’s teeth grinding at Ivan’s barb; the sooner he was removed, the better.

“Quite forgiven, your Highness. His Grace was just offering to retrieve me a drink,” said Alice. “I am most difficult at the occasions, Highness, you see. None of the vintages being offered by the servants please me, so his Grace has chivalrously offered to check the cellars for a good Gadsani wine.”

“Ever your Highness’s humble servant,” said Dunerbridge to Alice. He bowed to Ivan. “When we next meet, your Highness. Your pardon.” He departed, picking a path that passed close to some of the attractive ladies at the party (which, considering he had no idea where the wine cellar was located, was as good of a plan as any).

“He means well enough,” said Alice after Dunerbridge was out of earshot. “A bit slow, perhaps, but a loyal subject.”

Princess Ameria stood for a moment, sipping on another glass of wine she grabbed from a tray as she gazed across the gardens her eyes watching everyone. She seemed in a conversation with the Captain of her guard, who seemed to have a fondness for the Princess though perhaps not one returned. The other two visible guards in their deep burgundy uniforms stood in their formal guard stance.

The Princess suppressed an yawn, perhaps at the Captain or perhaps at the party, and suddenly began stepping toward the delegations from House Callahan of Ianisle and Magnus Valeria. She stepped slowly, however, smiling in a nod to some of the New Katagans who passed by as she crossed the garden to the gathered group.

[OOC: Apologise again for the relatively fast pace, just yell if you want anything changing.]


Clodius hated being late, especially if he couldn’t pass it off as being fashionably flippant about protocol. This was just poor organisation on their part, or rather his own rather lack of foresight in remembering to take a phone when out in the Outback, not that he would admit it to anyone. Still, they were here and with Cyriana in tow he received the welcome of the Kataganian (?) representative. He accepted Megumi’s gracious welcome with a small but polite nod whilst the Princess on his arm did a more elaborate bow, the catlike appearance barely registered with a being that spent his time off as a thousand pound reptilian hunter. Puffing his chest out slightly, Clodius spoke first of the couple, lightly but quickly.

“I thank you for the welcome, on behalf of myself, my charge” Cyriana smiled warmly “and I must also apologise immensely for our late arrival. I sincerely hope it hasn’t inconvenienced you.”

Cyriana merely nodded her agreement, following slightly behind the vampire as they got into the waiting car. A clunky box, the carrier for what seemed a substantial gift and covered in a fine red cloth, was also quickly loaded into the rear of the vehicle by one of the waiting attendants.

The journey itself was as short as could be, polite but formal conversation the order of the day inside. Cyriana sat backed and genuinely enjoyed the ride, her pains over her inexperience momentarily forgotten whilst Clodius himself seemed to suddenly turn, at least momentarily solemn, though whatever thought plagued him soon passed. They arrived in good form, the vampire making a note to himself to compliment the excellent staff he had encountered so far. They ascended into the palace with little fanfare, following the Lady Megumi’s lead as she led them through to the ballroom itself, details of accommodation to be sorted out at a more appropriate time.

Clodius cursed his own weight as his hulking mass belied the fact he weighed about six times what his moderately sized muscular frame actually appeared. Metal soles, necessary because of this annoying reminder of his biology, clanged and echoed against marble and stone floors to give the impression of a particularly austere baby elephant. Small but inquisitive questions of architecture and protocol passed the time before they arrived in the ballroom itself, before moving swiftly outside in pursuit of company, footsteps still drawing unwanted attention to the cringing vampire as they entered the gardens in pursuit of introductions.

Il Sultano grins winningly, in a used-car-salesman sort of way, at the Ambassador from Aerion. He hears birds chirp and the breeze rustle the trees. He still holds out his business card.

Damn, you'd think that I was the Medusa or something, turning people into stone.

Meanwhile, The Enforcer seems to be letting his eyes wander over the scene without focus. This means that he's doing his job and thinking at the same time.

Huh, boids. Ya'd tink dem catpeople would'sa ate 'em all by now.

Finn and Siobhan had been approaching the final unexplored section of the garden idly. The landscaping was beautiful, and somewhat foreign to Gaelic tastes. The result of which was quite refreshing, and the Sovereigness found herself genuinely enjoying her tour of the grounds. Across the way, it seemed to her that Princess Alice had grown tired of playing watchdog for the Duke's behaviour and sent him on some errand or another. She grinned to herself. Sometimes watching the conversation from a distance was more interesting than actually being involved. Body language was often more expressive than words and not so easily concealed.

Finn seemed somewhat agitated again watching the Palace, his wings bristling only slightly. An ominous metallic clunking from that direction announced the approach of yet another guest. Siobhan followed his gaze out of habit, and with a calm touch of her hand on his shoulder, reminded him to be calm.

Cyriana in tow and with the Lady Megumi standing aside for a moment, the Freestian pair (couple certainly not the optimum word in anything but the official sense) moved, arm in arm, through the landscaped environs that now sat laced with small clusters of guests and servents, eyes wandering up to meet theirs from time to time but mostly their presence, such as it was, went unnoticed, or at least as far as Clodius could tell from the small hints given by body language and whispers as he scanned his surroundings with a determined glance.

Stuck in the multiple roles of both escort, guard and representative for his particular species, surbordinate though they were to the human government, Clodius found himself reorientating himself and the princess in too as another guest, seemingly irritated by some unknown annoyance none the less turned nearby in a gesture that at least indicated some form of interest. Clodius took hold of Cyriana's hand more firmly as he lead her up to the couple, a man with elegant wings that impressed even the draconic vampire, and his, charge? Partner?

"Your Highness?" The title was aimed in the rough direction of the pair as he approached, still unsure to his eyes precisely whom was subordinate. Royalty seemed to be the standard title from the few notes he had recieved, better to aim high if you're going to miss. His voice changed too, slightly, a higher, Midlonian clip that distinguished members of Freethinker high society. "I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance before. I do hope I am not intruding."

A bow in deference from the Princess followed behind Clodius' own curt but polite nod as he awaited the response.

"Oh, and, if you may forgive my rudeness, I present the esteemed representative of the Freethinker government, her royal highness Princess Cyriana, of the House Svard, on her first engagement here no less, and myself, Sir Clodius Maxilimus, Lord of Navarrok, here as escort and as representative of my own people."

Finn watched the two as they approached. He was wary of the reptilian gent, and attempted to carry himself proudly. It was a childish reaction and he caught himself before the gesture could be construed as arrogance or worse, a challenge. More importantly, he caught himself before the Sovereigness did. If she were aware, she would be pleased.

Siobhan on the other hand, smiled at the tentative greeting, and rendered a slight bow to each in turn, favoring the lady with a slightly devious - yet utterly harmless - little glint in her eye.

"Princess, Your Grace, it is a pleasure to meet you both. It would seem the Lady and I have something in common. I myself am new to this sort of function, I must admit."

Finn was careful not to stand in a place that might suggest he was actually part of this conversation. Afterall, he was not of royal descent as far as the traditional sense of the word was concerned, and networking was not his purpose here. Clearing his throat, he stepped up to introduce them.

"And may I present my Lady Siobhan, Sovereigness of Gaeltach."

Clodius nodded, and moved forward and bowed slightly in greeting. His was wordless though, and following Finn's example subconciously he took a step back to allow Cyriana to step forward. After all, she was the primary representative here, despite her inexperience. The young human girl spoke, voice wavering for a second but soon finding it's strength.

"It is certainly a pleasure to meet you, Lady Siobahn, I hope that this little soiree has been productive for you so far. I must confess I am a little embarassed by how our lateness has left myself and my companion little time to catch up with proceedings."

Siobhan waved a slender hand dismissively.

"I wouldn't worry yourself over it, Princess.. you've still made it before dinner, and that's what counts, hm? Besides.. with all the delegations here, and the vastness of the property, I doubt anyone would venture as to question the timeliness of your arrival."

She smiled reassuringly to the younger woman and respectfully to her companion. Finn looked on silently, still somewhat disarmed by the Lord Clodius. The man was a bit of a puzzlement to him, but then this was his first time out of Gaeltach, exposed to non-humans. The strangest creature they had back home was his own race, and they were extremely limited in number - residing in the capitol city only. Otherwise, he had heard tell of the occassional werebeast and creatures stranger still, but until tonight had never laid eyes on any of them. But he was also quick to remind himself that first, this was a political affair and prudent was wise, and second, there were some here he probably unnerved as much as Clodius affected him. Siobhan cast him half a glance and continued in the conversation.

"It has certainly been.. enlightening, all this mingling with foreign governments. Perhaps some good may come out of this yet. But I've said too much. Please.. I would love to hear a bit about your homeland, if you'd be so kind."

[OOC: Ooops, my bad, should have pointed out sooner that in humanform Clodius, as a shapeshifter, doesn't look quite as exotic as that. He does have red slit like eyes and elongated fangs, but these would rank as the only obvious non-human features in this form alongside the weight making itself obvious. Only when he shifts to combatform does it become obvious he's a reptile underneath it all. Sorry, should have made that clearer. At the moment he more resembles a vampire with a tan than anything, which is where his species got its name from, but I digress]

"The Commonwealth? To describe it in a few words is somewhat difficult, it has been said to be the land of ultimate contrasts, you have the cities, which are incredibly close knit, high tech affairs, populated by literally hundreds of ethnicities and species. We're a nation of traders, at heart, we have few things to sell directly so we buy and sell the work of others and work at being excellent traders and bankers. It has done us well in that regards."

"Beyond the cities, and there is perhaps the last true wilds on Earth. Our domestic wildlife and the deserts themselves tend to make sure any human inroads, if they don't respect the natural world, are bloody affairs. We have vast, continents sized lands populated by hosts measuring in the dozens, areas we have only the most tenuous grasp in terms of internal domestication. But though deadly they are extraordinarily beautiful and, more importantly untouched. There are peaks and clearings and dunes and plains untrodden by any person before, its quite astounding if your lucky enough to get out there and know you're the first person to ever see them."

Cyriana smiled as she finished, happy with her summary even if it did sound slightly like a missive from the tourist board, true though her words were. Clodius meanwhile peered at Finn momentarily, wondering if his onw curiosity about the wings and Finn's own heritage were being mirrored in his counterpart's mind. The Princess meanwhile caught herself in politeness and continued after a pause.

"Well, I'm not sure if I made itsound appealing or hellish, though both are common opinions. And what of your homeland, if you do not mind me asking?"

Maglor watched with a degree of interest as he… well, queued for Nathicana’s attention. He wasn’t used to queues, and not just because of his exalted station, either. He was unused to them because he had spent, he realised with a start, most of his life, as something of a glorified hobo, occasional minstrel and even more occasional sell-sword and ‘knight errant.’ And consequently, he was used to going to the path of least resistance, like electricity, for any given need. Now, however, he found that he was at something of a loose end, so, with a conspiratorial glance towards Glorfindel, he simply kicked his heels out, leaned against the nearest wall, and waited for something to happen. Preferably for the party to really get swinging.


OOCness: In other words, ‘bump’

"It sounds lovely. The Gaelic people have a special place in our hearts for beautiful and dramatic natural features, so the prospect of undiscovered treasure is more than tempting! If my countrymen heard of this, they'd flock there in droves, begod.

"Gaeltach, I'm afraid, is a bit homogenous. Especially by comparison. Nationalist pride is very strong, and therefore we have never seen a need or felt a want to mingle with our neighbors in this world until recently. We're strongly tied to tradition and history, and most families can trace their bloodlines back into the mists of time. We do have the occassional non-human, but other than the Guardians, they tend to keep a low profile."

At mention of Finn's race, he smiled slightly. There was a great deal of pride to being a Guardian, and their station was as tied to the country and her history as the land itself. Resettling his wings, his attention turned again to the other man. The 'something' about him still put Finn on alert, but the fact that he couldn't quite figure out what the 'something' was irked him a bit.

"As far as the scenery, Gaeltach is mostly flat, with a healthy measure of small hills. But in the Northern Province, there are the wild Clohinne mountains. And everywhere is green.. the truest you will ever find the color in nature."

Truth be told, the North was somewhat less than safe these days, and the mountains even more so. Pride for those green peaks was the only reason she brought them up at all. Finn was surprized she had mentioned it, but if he let it show, it was a brief and fleeting expression. Siobhan couldn't help but smile as she spoke of her country. It was almost as if she could see the rolling fields by speaking of them. Having finished her summation that fond little smile remained, but her attention was fixed wholly on Cyriana and Clodius.

Cyriana took a deep breath again, this one enthused with more confidence as she watched Siobhan finish off her description with a smile on her face. The princess knew the feeling of national pride all too well, and could certainly emphasis with the Soverigness' feelings on the matter. She spoke again, moving back towards her normal Freethinker accent, rougher perhaps but flowing more naturally.

"It sounds beautiful, I must, sounds pleasent enough to actually relax in. Of course the open desert has its charms but it is far too dangerous to ever truly let go. Then again in this world when do you get the opportunity to do that anyway? I am impressed to see so many esteemed guests here, when I address the host I must congratulate her on being able to attract such an...exemplary guestlist."

She paused momentarily, taking a sip of wine from a glass that had appeared in her hand from a passing attendant.

"Still, it is a pleasant evening. And I can't complain of evening air that doesn't suffocate one in the heat and humidity. I suppose the climate here probably reminds you of home by the sound of it, if you would forgive my presumption?"

Clodius meanwhile also took a wine glass from a passing tray and decide to enquire of Finn's state of mind. The Gaeltech watcher was in a similar position to himself, guardian to and surbordinate of the lady beside him deep in conversation. He moved closer a little after ensuring Cyriana was behaving herself, and nodded towards Finn.

"So, from one winged soldier to another, I have to ask, hollow bones or magic?"

Il Sultano grins winningly, in a used-car-salesman sort of way, at the Ambassador from Aerion. He hears birds chirp and the breeze rustle the trees. He still holds out his business card.

Damn, you'd think that I was the Medusa or something, turning people into stone.

Meanwhile, The Enforcer seems to be letting his eyes wander over the scene without focus. This means that he's doing his job and thinking at the same time.

Huh, boids. Ya'd tink dem catpeople would'sa ate 'em all by now.

The Ambassador nods, taking the card, examining it skeptically. He glances up at the man, clears his throat, and reads over it. "I see..well some in Aerion may be interested in your hmm....services...otherwise I am here for diplomatics, not business... though their often the same"
He glances at his wife who is frowning a bit, though attempts to maintain a polite look. The Ambassador glances over at the Princess who is wandering the room with her entourage. He takes a glass of brandy if it is served from a nearby waiter, taking a slow sip. He glances at the man and his enforcer, "It sounds as if you run an interesting business, though..."

(OOC: Sorry, did not notice this)

"Oh, yes sir, it's plenty interesting. Helping run the finances of people who respect the value of privacy, of getting goods from those who'd like to sell to those who'd like to buy, yup, keeps a man busy." 'Piranha' flashes one of those toothy, vaguely predatory grins of his, although what little of his eyebrows than can be seen behind his blocky sunglasses indicate it to be a friendly gesture. "And seeing how that's the national bizness, well, it certainly keeps me busy... but not so busy that I can't enjoy getting away from the office every so often to meet pleasant gentlefolk like yourselves."

Meanwhile, noticing the glances, he dismisses them with a casual shrug. "Don't mind the big guy. 'S just after a few inconveniences in the past, 'specially with Economicdisasterstan, it's been a good idea to keep him nearby. Could be considered a matter of national import, heh."

That fully official and internationally recognized Moneylaunderingstani passports can be purchased at any reputable titty bar or brothel, the concept of 'national import' is naturally an amusing one when it comes to Il Sultano.

Ambassador to Moneylaunderingstan
The silver-haired Ambassador sips his drink, hmming politely, "Well you may not find such in Aerion. Recreational drugs are for the most part legal, or semi-legal, though regulated...so drug smuggling is not something that is advised. I assume your business is above..that kind of thing." He glances at the man, "Perhaps some exotic, rare animals would be welcomed in Aerion by some of the wealthy. Some of the wealthy collect rare finds, artwork. Some go too far and even or so it is rumored buy stolen artwork." He speaks in a low voice, "Though I am sure that is rumor." He glances at his wife, and she glances back with some kind of glance.

Princess Ameria

Princess Ameria continues to walk through the courtyard in her silken deep purple dress, and jewelry. She takes another glass of wine from a tray, and begins sipping on the wine as she walks. She makes a few remarks to her African-Aerionian Royal Guard Captain, and the burgundy uniformed Captain nods in agreement.

Her eyes fall on the man leaning against the wall, gazing for a moment as if attempting recognition, and wondering if that is indeed the man she had heard about before. He did match that description. She suppressed a yawn, did not want to appear rude to the guests, but she felt it was quiet time for the event to start. Perhaps the soon to be monarch was having cold feet.

Ambassador to Moneylaunderingstan
The silver-haired Ambassador sips his drink, hmming politely, "Well you may not find such in Aerion. Recreational drugs are for the most part legal, or semi-legal, though regulated...so drug smuggling is not something that is advised. I assume your business is above..that kind of thing." He glances at the man, "Perhaps some exotic, rare animals would be welcomed in Aerion by some of the wealthy. Some of the wealthy collect rare finds, artwork. Some go too far and even or so it is rumored buy stolen artwork." He speaks in a low voice, "Though I am sure that is rumor." He glances at his wife, and she glances back with some kind of glance.
Il Sultano looks positively shocked at this accusation, as does The Enforcer. The fact that the latter actually has a rather mobile face, despite all the scarring and rough living, may be something of a surprise. "But of course, Ambassador--smugglin? I'd nearly be insulted at th' accusation, if I weren't such a nice guy." He does note this information, to be checked up on later and perhaps investigated in more depth should it not turn out to be an attempt by the powers that be to put the pinch on perfectly legitimate business. "Yeah, I wouldn't put any truck by ol' rumors, though we do know enough dealers--art dealers--that I'm sure we can arrange some sort of fair and above-board business with those people with a taste for that kind o' thing. And animals, you say? Well, there's plenty of animals in Economicdisasterstan, or at least the southern and eastern bits of it. I don' think they're all extinct, 'least not yet..." He mutters quietly to himself, something that sounds like numbers, then looks up. "Well, Ambassador, I'll tell ya what. You got my card, and, well, if anyone happens to be wantin' my services you can just tell 'em you know a guy. That guy, of course, bein' me."

He removes his cigarette from his lips, grins, and looks for a place to put the butt. "Hum, you'd think they'd have an ashtray or something somewhere 'round here. Damn international anti-smoking advocates. Pinchin' on a man's right to do to 'imself what 'e will..."