NationStates Jolt Archive

Vigvar International Aerospace Port, Northern Vigvar Plateau, Vigvar, Taraskovya

Since Taraskovya was largely a Nordic country, March was still a rather cold month. But while snow and blizzard still ruled supreme in Cardinia and Aphyr, the Dakathian territories began to steadily melt away as General Spring began a coordinated offensive against Empress Winter, pushing the snowy legions further north. The City of Vigvar, which served as de facto capital of the vast Taraskovyan Empire In Denial, was situated precisely in central Dakathia and was currently on the front lines of the battle. The no longer covered the old city, but the temperature was still far off from summer warmth. Cold winds battered the city periodically.

Needless to say the Vigvar International Aerospace Port was spotless, not a single snow flake covering the tarmac. After all, many flights coming to Taraskovya needed safe runways and not just VTOL pads. Such was the case for the inbound Tartarian jet which carried none less than Her Imperial Majesty herself, a very valued guest to say the least.

The landing strip at the VIP section of the gigantic complex was completely clear, as well as additional strips and parking lots at the Vigvar Leib-Guards Airbase for the Tartarian Air Force fighters escorting their head of state. The military base was located a certain distance from the civilian complex. But the landing of military jets is not the most interesting part, the interesting stuff was back at the VIP section.

A blue carpet was rolled out. According to Taraskovyan protocol, the blue carpet signified that the head of state greeted in such a manner was considered as particularly special by the Grand Duchy. Taking into account the innate Taraskovyan arrogance and haughtiness, being a “particularly special guest” was indeed an honour. All other heads of state were greeted with a red carpet. Those not worthy of a red carpet weren’t even invited to the Grand Duchy to begin with.

Standing on stand by was a company from the “Silence and Death” Battalion of the Alexander leib-guards regiment, in their dress outfits which comprised silver-coloured armour (in fact, the material used was something totally and modern and very resistant, but a layer of silver was added to give a metallic and shiny touch to the outfits), black cloaks, blue shirts and trousers showing in between the armour parts and, of course, the helmets shaped as wolf heads, integral masks hiding the soldiers’ faces.

The Grand Duke was of course also on the ground watching as the Tartarian plane steered on the runway. Also waiting was Colonel Kiltharan, commander of the leib-Guards, a pair of translators, a number of diplomats from the Foreign Ministry. Foreign Minister Ithun Khat was, of course, present with his companion who was none else than the Tartarian Ambassador to Taraskovya, Angelina Ormond.

Needless to say a military band was on the ground to play the national anthems. And, hidden from all, but present none the less, special operatives made sure no troublemaker would disrupt the greeting ceremony.

As the aircraft taxied on the runway, Gehenna peered over to the window, watching the group of dignitaries appeared. She smiled, looking forward to her first meeting of the Taraskovyan Grand Duke. From information fed back by the Ambassador and others stationed in Tarasovka, she had learnt the basics about the ruler of the nation, but it was always nice to get a feel for a person in person.

Gehenna had spent the beginning of the flight reading up on the nation and the ruling family, making sure that she would appear informed when she arrived. She had spent the latter half of the journey relaxing. With the final hour used to freshen up and appear as spotless as possible. There was nothing worse than stepping off a plane in front of a nation’s leader, looking like you had not slept or washed in a week.

The plane finally came to a stop, and Gehenna once more glanced out of the window. She never sat by one during landing or take off, as it was never wish to become a sitting target. She had experienced an attempt on her life, and she did not plan to allow another the opportunity. With her on her visit was her full security detail, with Chris Denton sitting never too far away, in charge of protecting her.

Standing, Gehenna brushed her fingers lightly over the jacket of her suit. Despite the cold weather outside, she was not wearing a coat. Her red suit was made for colder climates and she was grateful for it.

As the door swung open, Gehenna made her way to the entrance, and began the walk down the steps towards the waiting dignitaries. A quick sweep of those present pinpointed her Ambassador nearby, and with her attention back on the Grand Duke she moved down the steps, appreciating the presence of a blue carpet. She mentally thanked Angelina for sending her details of Taraskovyan protocol.

Gehenna, slightly ahead, and her party stopped in front of the Grand Duke and his companions. She gave him a smile in greeting, then waited to be formally welcomed.

“Your Imperial Majesty, allow me to welcome you to the Grand Duchy of Taraskovya,” the Grand Duke spoke, before greeting the Empress in Taraskovyan manner: by placing his hand on his heart, then on his eyes and then extending it briefly towards the guest. “It is an honour to receive Your Majesty to Vigvar and it is my sincerest wishes that only good comes out of your visit.”

“I believe you must have heard of Foreign Minister Khat. And Ambassador Ormond is surely no mystery to Your Majesty,” Mikhail continued, the Foreign Minister greeting the Empress in the same fashion as the Grand Duke earlier.

“And now, the military review. Colonel Kiltharan?” Mikhail spoke to the commander of the Royal Guard, who nodded in return without saying anything else.

“Smi-i-r-r-r-NA!” the Colonel of the leib-Guards barked in a typically Taraskovyan fashion and the Guards snapped to immediate attention, seizing their swords and extending them into the air. Despite all of them being sons of the highest of Taraskovyan nobles, the several years spent at the academy made them forget they were aristocracy and made them understand they were just soldiers, ready to die for Monarch and Motherland whenever it was required. Even if in recognition of their particular status, all Guards were officer-ranked vis-à-vis of the TNDF in general.

The military band from the 1st Regiment, 1st Airborne Division began playing the Tartarian anthem, as the Grand Duke led his guest along the rows of guardsmen. The leib-Guard did not have its own band, and so on special occasions the band from that particular regiment was used. After all, the “Black Hand” Division (1st Airborne) was considered as being part of the larger Royal Guard, outside of the bodyguards and close protection that was the Alexander leib-Guards regiment.

“The press is on our right,” the Grand Duke said quietly, motioning his head slightly in the direction of a stand from which half a dozen cameras were filming the procession. The press was kept at a very, very respectful distance from the guests, for as much as Taraskovyans loved the freedom of press and expression, they also loved to make sure their guests weren’t annoyed too much. “But unless Your Majesty wishes to share a couple words with journalists, that is the closest they will get.”

Bowing her head slightly in a sign of respect, Gehenna smiled. “It is an honour to be here, Your Majesty. I am pleased to have the opportunity to see at first hand a nation that I have heard so much about.” As she spoke, she glanced at her Ambassador before being led through the greetings of the other people in the group.

Of course, she knew Angelina Ormond and she had a good knowledge of the Foreign Minister. In fact, she was sure that if there was more she needed to know, her people would be able to keep her well informed. The fact that Angelina and Ithun were involved was watched very closely, most likely from both sides.

Gehenna greeted both with a warm smile, and received a curtsey from her ambassador along with the formal greeting from the Foreign Minister. She had a few brief words with both before the rest of the greeting events took place.

As they moved, Gehenna made sure that the press received good coverage of the arrival, ensuring that she met the cameras face on, but the idea of giving a few words was not something she planned on doing. Back in Tartarus, the press ran the stories that they were given permission to print, usually word for word.

“I would rather refrain from talking to your journalists at present,” Gehenna answered, smiling as she turned from the cameras and once more faced the Grand Duke. At official functions and with a prepared speech, she would be more than willing, but talking to journalists for the hell of it was not something the Imperial Family of Tartarus was prepared to do.

“The guest’s wishes are law, Your Majesty,” Mikhail smiled and motioned towards the convoy of vehicles that was waiting for the Heads of State and their closest staff. The Empress was of course guided to a black limousine that was hovering slightly above ground, and which featured the flags of Taraskovya and Tartarus.

Two leib-guards snapped to attention as the heads of state approached him and opened the doors that led into a spacious and finely arranged interior. The Empress, the Grand Duke, the Ambassador and the Foreign Minister all took their seats within the limousine. Colonel Kiltharan took a seat in an armoured jeep where leib-Guards in combat outfits, quite different from their parade colleagues on the tarmac, were preparing to set out.

Needless to say, the Tartarian security detail was offered a jeep behind the limousine, with Taraskovyan security personnel riding in front. Once the officials had departed, various other vehicles would come to the tarmac, to service the needs of the Tartarian staff and transport whatever luggage they had to the Winter Palace. Because in Taraskovya, guests stayed at their hosts place, and guests of the Grand Duke stayed at the Winter Palace.

“I hope Your Majesty’s flight was a pleasant one,” the Grand Duke opened the conversation now that everybody was sitting comfortably in the spacious interior, decorated in quite a luxurious manner. “Ithun, if I may ask you to rummage through the bar? You are sitting closer.”

Ithun nodded and opened the small bar next to him, looking at the two women. “Your Imperial Majesty, Your Excellecy, do you desire anything?”

“The trip to Vigvar proper shall take approximately half an hour,” the Grand Duke added.

Gehenna made herself comfortable, settling into the seat, alongside the Grand Duke as Ithun and Angelina entered the car. She took a brief moment to gaze out of the window, watching as everyone disappeared into vehicles. It was always amazing to watch the weeks of organisation that happened behind the scenes come to life and run, almost always, to clockwork.

As the Grand Duke spoke, the Empress of Tartarus focused her attention back inside the car. “My flight was most pleasant and uneventful, I am pleased to say.” She smiled, as she relaxed back into the seat, while at the same time appearing not to.

Gehenna took another opportunity of gazing out of the window, over Mikhail’s shoulder, as he spoke to his Foreign Minister. As the journey was going to be a short one, she wanted to get the chance of seeing a little of the landscape as they drove past.

She politely refused anything from the bar and was unsurprised to find Ambassador Ormond following suit.

“I have heard good things about Tarasovka,” Gehenna remarked, casting a quick glance at Angelina. “I am looking forward to experiencing the delights of your country during my visit. I find it most pleasing to be able to see for myself what others have spoken warmly about.”

The chatter between the two Heads of State was quite unofficial and consisted of the Grand Duke explaining the various Vigvar landmarks to his guest, and the Empress asking for clarifications or more precisions on such and such matter, such and such historic event.

The initial stretch of the road was not particularly impressive. The Vigvar International Aerospace Port was situated on the northern coast of the Sword Gulf which separated the Fiefdom of Vigvar into southern and northern halves. The city of Vigvar proper, the one with all the governments and parliaments and royal palaces was perched on a plateau a good kilometer above the Sword Gulf. The airport was located on a same plateau in the north.

The legend said that long ago, in times immemorial, a heretic kin lived in the area. It was so disrespectful towards the Deities, that one day Sathala simply smashed her sword into the ground, splitting soil in two and creating the Sword Gulf. The heretic kin was wiped out till the last and the Taraskath got yet another reason to ensure the Goddess of War and Passion was content with her worshippers.

To get to the capital city, the convoy steered onto the highway leading off to the Bridge of Swords, a titanic structure which connected the two halves of the Fiefdom in the middle of the gulf, but where it was the narrowest due to two peninsulas protruding into the water mass from the north and the south.

The bridge was elevated nearly a kilometer above the water of the Gulf. Special wind breakers covered the sides of the bridge, to ensure that cars weren’t simply blown off during particularly windy weather. Four lanes went into each direction, of which one was a restricted “emergency” lane and closed to traffic. Beneath the motorway part were several railways which allowed passengers to commute rapidly in between Vigvar and the city’s gigantic airport. And, of course, sideways were reserved for those enthusiastic enough for a bicycle ride or a foot walk, which did constitute a good several dozen kilometers.

All in all, even if the bridge was not exactly an example of Taraskovyan exquisite architecture (since nobody wanted to overweight it too much with useless statues and parks and fountains and whatnot), it was still a fine example of engineering.

The Royal motorcade took an “emergency” lane, with the adjacent lane also having been closed to traffic and police teams and vehicles present every once in a while. The ride itself was rather uneventful and so the convoy sped through, slowing down softly as they entered the city. The change of speeds was not felt by the passengers, maybe except for the fact that the landscape no longer moved at the same speed outside.

The capital city was much more of a view to behold. The convoy took some of the larger avenues, drowned in flowers and resting in the shadows of trees. Most trees already began blooming, a variety of flowers offering a magnificent view. One could also admire the charming Taraskovyan style of several centuries ago, reminiscent of a mixture of European and local traditions. Here and there a Taraskovyan Orthodox church would come to view, golden domes of one being replaced by the sky blue of another. Here and there, in the middle of a park, a tall spire would come to view: a temple of the Seven deities, the ancestral Taraskath religion.

As the convoy headed towards the Midnight Square, against which were localted the Midnight Gates to the Winter Palace, the Empress would not spot any particular attention to her arrival. There was, of course, a rather heavy police presence out in the streets, but no demonstrators or admirers lining the streets. Of course, groups of curious denizens of Vigvar did stand along the roads, taking a glance at the motorcade and cheering, waving little Grand Ducal or Tartarian banners.

Some Taraskovyan political organizations have, of course, staged protests. The National Patriotic Christian Alliance was not happy with the Grand Duke welcoming a “godless” Head of State into the “capital of worldwide Orthodoxy”. Nobody really knew since when Vigvar became the capital of “worldwide Orthodoxy”, but the nationalist rhetoric of the NPCA has grown rather unoriginal anyway. But no protestors were in sight as the Vigvar Fiefdom Gendarmerie “guided” them into some far away parks on the outskirts of the city.

The scene changed a little when the convoy arrived at the Midnight Square. Quite a few people have gathered on the square, waiving Grand Ducal and, to a lesser extent, Tartarian banners. Cavalier Guards from the “Pride and Honour” Battalion were in formation along the road which led to the “gates”. The “Pride and Honour” leib-Guardsmen were specialized as the cavalry component of the “leib-Guard” or Life Guard of the Taraskovyan sovereigns. They featured wings on their backs, made of eagle feathers. Dark blue trousers and shirts were covered with silver and gold armours (as previously, the exact material used was far more resistant and combat-ready than precious metals, but a layer and ornaments of these made the guards look shiny), leopard skins hanging from their shoulders over blue cloaks. They held their pikes high and silver and blue pennants flew from them, the colours of the Shakhovskoy dynasty and, by the same, two of the three National colours (the last being black).

The motorcade did not stop as it entered the “tunnel of guardsmen” at low speed and headed towards the castle-like structure on the opposite end of the square. The Cavaliers also rode off to follow the cars as it progressed, the tunnel “collapsing” onto itself.

What Gehenna would have surely been informed of is that the Vigvar Winter Palace was different only a few centuries ago. It was, in fact, an impressive fortress surrounded by several levels of tall walls, with two gates: the Midnight (northern) and Midday (southern). Each gate was covered by a robust Gate Fort. And as the need to have a sturdy citadel in Vigvar passed by, the Grand Dukes simply tore it down and built a luxurious and impressive palace complex on the grounds.

Around the palace they planted the Great Gardens, a magnificent and majestic park which covered an immense territory. The sturdy walls came down, instead being replaced by two levels of intricate and exquisite fences: the outer fence running along the perimeter of the Great Gardens, and an interior one separating the “public” portion of the Great Gardens from the Winter Palace proper. But the Gate Forts themselves were kept, rebuilt a little to a more exquisite style than the “I fear no catapults and fire mages” proper to early Taraskath. Today, the Gate Forts were often used to host various events as special halls were added on to them. This allowed the Shakhovskoy to keep the Winter Palace a private area while still being close to their people.

As the convoy passed through the arches beneath one of the forts, the police escort parked off and the royal limousine now rode at a slow pace. For the occasion, the “public” portion of the Great Gardens was sealed off from visitors and tourists and the Empress could admire a whole variety of plants in bloom. The roof of the limousine came off, letting forth a variety of pleasant and sweet aromas.

“The Great Gardens have been closed to public visiting for the duration of Your Majesty’s stay,” Mikhail spoke as he shifted his gaze from the Empress to a pair of leib-guards on patrol along one of the paths that stopped to salute the Heads of State before continuing on with their patrol. “We do this for all our guests as to allow them all the comfort and privacy they require.”

The Grand Duke grinned and let his guest admire the marvels as a teaser of what there was to see, if the Empress ever desired to explore the gardens. In the meantime, the convoy reached the palace complex itself. It rode past a structure which was built to resemble a half-circle and which was in fact a very impressive ball hall for the Royal family to organize special events in. The George Hall, as it was called, was just across the road from the Palace itself and was connected to it by two walks above the surface, forming archways into a sort of an “inner court”.

The two wings of the palace were built at an angle towards each other and the central wing was slightly in retreat, which meant that the inner court was quite large itself and a mini-park in itself. There, additional guards were present. Even if not exactly to welcome the Empress, it’s just that a guards detail was always present in the court anyway.

The royal limousine stopped in front of the stairs leading to the main entrance into the Palace, and palace staff, dressed into black and blue uniforms, were on hand to open the door for the Empress.

As the convoy drove passed the Great Gardens, Gehenna was pleased to know that she would get the opportunity to take a closer look at them during her visit. Usually, so many places were out of bounds due to security problems. Not that the Empress was a keen gardener, nor could she name every variety of plant or flower, but she knew that when at home, the garden was her sanctuary, and that made her very fond of them.

“It is very kind of you to allow me the privilege of experiencing the garden. Just looking at them from here, I can see that they are very beautiful.” She took in a breath, taking in the delightful scent that wafted through the air around them. “It has the most charming aroma. There is nothing like flowers to make you feel that summer is on the way.”

As the vehicle continued on its way, Gehenna let her eyes gaze upon the brightly coloured flowers, while listening to the Grand Duke as he spoke. It was not long before the journey came to an end and the Empress got her first good look at the palace.

Stepping out of the limousine, she looked about her, smiling as she gazed upon her surroundings. From the drive up, the palace had looked spectacular. Now up close, the details were revealed.

Gehenna turned to the Grand Duke, as the others departed from the cars. She could see Chris Denton, the head of her security, moving quickly to take up his position. “Your palace is truly magnificent. It will be a pleasure to stay here during my visit. Although I am not much of an historian, I hope that someone will be able to share with me a little of its history.”

The stairs leading to the main entrance into the central wing of the Winter Palace were adorned with statues of black wolves, the national animal of Taraskovya. The doors themselves were surrounded in bas-reliefs depicting a mixture of Taraskath and Russian symbols.

“I only profit from the fruits of my ancestors’ labour,” Mikhail noted with a smile as they walked up the stairs. “I shall make certain that the palace’s Master Archivist is placed at your Majesty’s full disposition. If there is one person who knows the history of this place inside and out, it is Master Narul.”

The entry hall was of moderate proportions, with side exits leading into the two other main wings of the palace. Opposite the main entrance were two stairs that led to a second floor, which circled the hall like a balcony. Further corridors branched off into the central wing. On the wall in between the stairs was a gigantic portrait of Grand Duke Alexei II and his wife Grand Duchess Anastasya Orlova-Shakhovskaya, the grand parents of the current Grand Duke. In between them was Mikhail I in his child years.

Grand Duke Alexei did not enter history as a bright monarch and good ruler, but more like an eccentric fool who cared more for entertainment than ruling. It was his wife who was the de facto ruler during these times. It was she who pushed forward a single currency for all Taraskovyan territories. It was she who cemented a firm and centralized state against the resistance of the Tal-Nash High Dukes that wanted more and more autonomy and even the Sword of Rulers itself. A cunning woman of strong will that still managed to raise and educate the one whom Taraskovya still remembered as one of the best monarchs to have ever ruled it - Grand Duke Mikhail I.

The Grand Duke led the Empress and the other members of their party up the stairs and through some corridors. The palace was decorated richly enough to represent the power and prosperity of the Grand Duchy, but not enough to be ridiculous. The current ruler of Taraskovya was not exactly known to revel in luxury, which was surely influenced by his service as an ordinary soldier in the National Defence Forces.

Mikhail was there to answer any questions Gehenna had on such and such piece of furniture, such and such painting or tapestry. After all, the host did not just take her through some boring corridors, but also through some of the finest halls and rooms the central wing had to offer.

And eventually, they passed some doors which gave into a small hall, with doors leading into other rooms by the sides. Opposite the main entrance into the hall was another rather impressive one.

“These shall be your Majesty’s quarters for the stay,” Mikhail said as the party slowly crossed the hall. “This is the common hall, with rooms for your staff, a kitchen, everything you require.”

While not apparent, all doors were equipped with electronic security locks, as well as the good old physical one. The guests could choose which system to use, or use both systems. An officer of the leib-Guards was already busy explaining Chris Denton how to use the electronic keys (which were styled just like normal antique ones, except for the hi-tech bowels which allowed them, when introduced into a proper slot, to unlock the door), where to insert them.

A set of electronic and physical keys was also given to him with the keys to all doors, but to the Empress’es private apartments.

“And these shall be your Majesty’s private apartments,” Mikhail said as he opened the doors leading into the aforementioned rooms, which consisted of a central hall with various furniture, and side rooms, which included the bedroom and a bathroom. There was a bar, a refrigerator hidden amongst the furniture, television, telephone, other devices… Everything needed if one just wanted to lock him or herself up for a day and tell the outside world to go do sumo wrestling. The Winter Palace was not a hotel, it was a home and, as such, had to have everything "home" had.

“These are your keys,” the Grand Duke said as he handed the Empress a silver chain a set of keys on it. Two for the main entrance, others for the other rooms. “Your head of security shall explain how to use them. If you need anything, there is a direct communication link with the palace staff. Two leib-guards shall also be posted on duty outside of the Tartarian quarters and shall also be able to help in case of necessity.”

The Empress of Tartarus took the keys from the Grand Duke and smiled, her eyes briefly flicking towards Chris, who was busy talking to one of the guards. These visits were always easier if her security detail had faith in their hosts. Of course, they were not the easiest people to please, and there were several times where she had to say something before they would relax a little, not that she did not understand the importance of everything being done correctly. Their job was to make sure she survived, and the attempt on her life back in Tartarus, her guards had increased their protectiveness.

“Your Majesty, you have been most thoughtful and considerate,” she remarked, her smile growing. She had to admit that she was looking forward to freshening up before the visit proper started.

As she spoke, Chris finished with the guard, and moved a little closer to his charge, freeing one of the others to begin to familiarised themselves with the layout of the suite. They would need to be able to find their way about in the dark if duty called, and they did not want to find themselves sprawled on the floor because they had tripped over a coffee table.

Her fingers clasped around the keys that the Grand Duke had passed to her, knowing that as soon as she was able, she would give them to Chris for safe keeping. The young Empress could not recall a time that she had been given keys to her room. Before she entered any rooms, her security detail would check that it was safe for her to enter. Only her private rooms in her palaces in Tartarus were her own private domain, and even to those she did not hold a key.

She moved further into the rooms, her glance brushing quickly over her surroundings. She could see that nothing had been missed to ensure the guest was made to feel at home.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she finally said, as she turned back to the Grand Duke. “You have certainly made us feel very welcomed into your country.”

“It would have been very unwise of me to ruin the image of Taraskovyan hospitality in the eyes of such an esteemed guest,” Mikhail said, inclining his head respectfully to the Empress. “Now then, I shall leave you alone for two hours before the scheduled lunch with my Ministers. Minister Khat shall be of attendance, of course.”

Ithun, who held back during the proceedings while the Grand Duke was busy showing the guest around, inclined his head. “If only all ministerial duties were as pleasant, Your Majesties,” he said, looking from Mikhail to Gehenna.

“We shall leave Your Majesty alone. It was a long flight from Tartarus, so you might want to relax. Or take a stroll through the Gardens,” Mikhail said to the Empress. “Do not be afraid to lose yourself, our tracker wolves shall find you in no time.”

With that, the Taraskovyan delegation began filing out of the Tartarian quarters. Ithun was not in a great hurry to get out immediately and instead stepped closer to Angelina, leaning over a little to whisper into her ear.

“They are rearranging the Crown Jewels exposition for the Empress’es visit tomorrow. Want to have a first look already? I know a person who knows a guy that slept with a girl whose brother is married to somebody from the local staff.” He paused and continued, with a humouristic tone of pride in a great achievement. “I procurred myself free tickets.”

As Mikhail finished speaking, Gehenna gave him a warm smile and inclined her head. “We shall see you in two hours, Your Majesty.” She watched as the Grand Duke left the room, along with the others. It did not pass her notice that one of the Taraskovyans had remained behind, but she did not dwell on the moment, instead she turned to Chris Denton, the head of her security and handed him her set of keys. He merely inclined his head and smiled, instinctively knowing that she would.

The final member of her security left her rooms, giving the Empress some privacy, though she kept the door open to her suite, just in case. She knew how uptight her protection became if she was not accessible.

As she wandered through to the bedroom, Gehenna was pleased to see the familiar sight of Isla, who was unpacking her things, humming softly to herself. Gehenna watched for a moment, forever fascinated by the care and attention that the older gave to her belongings. Each one carefully removed from the trunk and hung or folded and placed into its temporary home.

“You have brought too much with us again, Isla,” the Empress announced, as she made her way into the room, careful not to startle the woman.

Isla merely chuckled and shook her head, a lifetime of being in the Empress’ company allowing her a little more freedom than most in the Empress’ staff would ever know. “Your Majesty, you know full well that you need all these for your visit. If you did not change so often, we would only need one trunk.”

Gehenna laughed lightly, as she walked over to the window and gazed out at the scene below. “Think how offended our hosts would be if I did not dress correctly or wore the same outfit many times.”

A louder chuckle erupted from Isla. “I guess I packed just the right amount then, Ma’am.”

The Empress knew when she had lost the battle and remained smiling to herself, as she took in the view.

* * * * *

Angelina followed the delegation out of the Empress’ rooms, then stopped and looked at Ithun. “Tickets from a friend of a…yes, well,” she playfully frowned at her lover. “Are you sure they are real? It would be dreadful for a minister of such high standing to be caught in a fake ticket scandal.” She paused for a moment, then with a smile, she nodded enthusiastically. “I would love to go.”

She led Ithun a little further down the corridor. “I’ll need to finish up here. I have to ensure Her Majesty has everything she needs, but I see no reason why I wouldn’t be able to make it.” She had to fight the urge to press a kiss to the Foreign Minister’s lips, but being on duty, she knew she had to behave.

The view out of the Empress’s suite gave on a portion of the Great Gardens. She could see a sandy path bordered by blooming flower bushes that led to a small square with a fountain and some benches. There were numerous trees, of course, with some of them clearly older than most current occupants of the Palace. It was a green and relaxing view, which shaded the window just enough to save the room from heating too much, while allowing in more than enough sunlight.

A pair of life guardsmen from the “Silence and Death” Battalion could be seen on a routine patrol along the path, heading away from the palace into the shaded interior of the park. A wolf of a very impressive size, at least two times greater than the usual grey wolf, strolled calmly by the pair, gazing around casually for anything of interest. The wolf was clearly a Dakathian Black, the bigger of the two sub-species of the Taraskovyan Black Wolf (the other, smaller and slightly more docile counterpart, being the Cardinian Black). And as the wolf served with the life guard, he also had a “uniform” on him. It was not just to look pretty, for beneath it was a layer of armour to shield the beast from shots should he charge an enemy.

As the guardsmen distanced themselves further and further from the palace, they came to meet a young woman by the fountain, who was none else than Irina Shakhovskaya, the wife of Archduke Viktor, himself the eldest cousin of the Grand Duke and, according to the traditional inheritance rules, second in line to the Taraskovan throne. The guardsmen saluted Irina in passing, the woman smiled and inclined her head in acknowledgement and then went back to reading the book she held in her hands.

* * *

“I will wait for you outside,” Ithun said, giving a glance around. “That is, if I can find an exit first.”

He blinked a little, looking both ways through the corridor. And by chance he saw a maid from the palace staff coming out of a room with all sorts of dust-cleaning and furniture-polishing equipment.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he intercepted the young woman, who turned to look at the Minister and smiled in greeting.

“Yes, Your Excellency?”

“Can you direct me to the nearest exit?”

“Straight down the corridor is a hall with an exit to the terrace. On the terrace, there are stairs leading into the park.”

“Thank you, that will be all,” Ithun inclined his head, dismissing the maid as she inclined her head in return and went into another room to make sure everything was spotless and dustless.

“Using authority on little subordinates makes me feel powerful,” Ithun said with a touch of comical irony in his voice as he looked at Angelina. “I shall meet you in the shades of trees then, once you are done checking whatever you have to check with the Empress.” He paused and then whispered with a mischievous smile. “Just do not get lost on your way or the wolves will eat you!”

Laughing lightly, Angelina walked along with Ithun towards the exit. “Should any wolf try to eat me, it would find me very sour, as I would not be very happy.” She turned to make sure no one was watching and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I will see you there.”

She waited for the Foreign Minister to disappear from view, then she turned back the way she had come and knocked on the door of the Empress’ rooms. Hearing a call for her to enter, she walked into the living room area, then finding it empty she moved further inside.

“I am in the bedroom,” Gehenna’s voice announced, coming from one of the attached rooms.

Angelina walked over to the door, pausing at the threshold to the room, before stepping inside. She looked over at the Empress, who was still gazing out of the window. The ambassador moved to the centre of the room, just a little way from the foot of the bed, and waited.

Gehenna turned and looked at her ambassador to Taraskovya. “I trust that everything is arranged for my visit.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, everything is in order. I have left all the necessary documentation with Alexander,” Angelina said, knowing that Gehenna’s personal secretary would be reviewing everything to ensure the Empress knew what she needed to know. “I have left a list of high ranking officials for your perusal, including a little background information on each. The Taraskovyans have been very helpful.”

Gehenna nodded and turned back to the window. “I would not have expected anything else. They have certainly gone out of their way.” She indicated Angelina to approach the window. “The view is most pleasing.” She paused for a moment, as the ambassador answered in agreement.

“I must get ready for my meeting later,” she finally announced as the two women watched Irina Shakhovskaya taking her walk. “I believe I have everything I need.”

Smiling, Angelina nodded. “I am available should you have any questions, Ma’am.”

“I am sure that Alexander had everything under control,” Gehenna remarked. “I will talk to you tomorrow.”

Angelina nodded and took her leave, watched by the Empress.

Gehenna moved away from the window, and walk back into the living room. Waiting for her was Alex, his hands full with various folders and his laptop computer. She indicted for him to take a chair then settled herself into one of the others. They would spend the next hour going over various details, and then she would freshen up for ready for lunch.

Shortly before the scheduled time of the lunch, a palace staff member in livery featuring dark blue and silver came for the Empress. He knocked at the doors of the Tartarian quarters and, when they were opened by a Tartarian staff member, spoke ceremonially.

“Her Imperial Majesty Gehenna, Empress of Tartarus, is cordially invited by His Majesty Mikhail the Second, Grand Duke of all Taraskovya, to share a lunch with His Majesty and His Majesty’s Ministers.”

The faces of the two leib-guards stationed outside the Tartarian quarters were covered fully with their helm’s masks, so the lackey did not see the smirks on their faces. For him they remained as still and as cold as ever, spreading around them an aura of certain death to anyone who would want to go on a murderous rampage in the palace.

When Gehenna and those of her delegation she took along deigned to exit the Tartarian quarters, the lackey led them to where the lunch would take place. And it was not really far away from the Empress’s quarters, as to avoid having to drag the guests through the entire Palace.

And the lunch would take place in a moderately sized hall, brightly lit by the light of the sun coming in through the full height glass windows on the side. The windows were also doors that allowed one to exit to the terrace. The view was rather pleasant: fountains, flowers and statues closer to the palace, trees and more flowers farther away into the park. Nothing extremely thrilling, yet quite relaxing and sufficient for a working lunch.

The Taraskovyans were not seated, instead talking to each other on matters such and such. When Gehenna entered the room, came the time of introductions. Of course, she would have already had some information about them, more than what could be said in a simple introduction.

Foreign Minister Ithun Khat surely did not need any introduction: High Count of Var-Gellath (after his father decided to bestow all titles upon his son, seeing no use in them), sole survivor of the 75th Airborne Division and hero of the Plague, Cavalier of the the Royal and Military Order of Saint Andrew. His appointment as Minister of Foreign Affairs came as a surprise to a bit everybody in Taraskovya, but the young man quickly proved his aptitude, striking agreements and treaties favourable and sometimes even biased towards his Motherland. His relationship with Ambassador Ormond was seen negatively by many Taraskovyan nationalists, but he has became quite popular with the broader Taraskovyan public for his defence of Taraskovyan interests.

Defence Minister Anatoly Orlov: Duke of Bor and some other duchies, Major General in retreat and former commander of the Black Hand Cavalry Division. The man, now in his sixties, hailed from the Ros community and, as such, looked very much like a healthy and athletic “homo sapiens” would look at his age. He wore a parade military uniform, his hair was brown without a single white thread, he featured a bear-style body build towering above most of his counterparts as his warm and friendly brown eyes surveyed the surroundings. The fact that he hailed from the Orlov House of nobility was important: the Orlovs were the staunchest allies and supporters of the Shakhovskoy over generations, while the Tal-Nash have never made their pretensions on the Sword of Rulers a secret.

Interior Minister Karth Tal-Nash: High Duke of Kshas-Kharit and other High Duchies, younger brother of the recently passed Il’liar Tal-Nash, himself a well known Taraskath nationalist, of the extremist kind. Il’liar has always been suspected of running a private Taraskath militia during the Time of Troubles. Karth, however, was a moderate Taraskath, wishing to see his country prosper and impose itself as a power to be reckoned with and feared. This is surely why he and Anatoly Orlov formed the Conservative Party, which united under its banner a majority of the Taraskovyan electorate. And this is why he was placed in the important position of Interior Minister, a former enemy becoming a valuable ally. Karth appeared cold and composed, his blue eyes studying his interlocutor with attention.

National Security Minister Namel’lar Keth: High Count of Tin-Kareth and that’s pretty much it. A very mysterious and shady figure of whom little was known, be it to the general public or to the foreign intelligence community. His very appearance seemed different even in comparison to the other Taraskath ministers present in the room, such as Ithun and Karth. However, Gehenna would surely recognize the general features very quickly if she remembered of her own Shakhtal vassals. The latter never mingled with those not of their kin (which is explained by the fact that they tend to very much dislike anyone outside their kind) and kept the features of the old Taraskath as they were before interbreeding with the Ros. And Namel’lar was one of those old Taraskath, which could be explained by two things: either his family was staunchly opposed to breeding with any other but other pure Taraskath, either he predated the times when the two communities intermingled.

Minister for Economy and Finances was Il’liar Lareth, High Count of Lensk. Renowned in the Taraskovyan business sphere, he was perfect for his job. Dressed into a fashioned business suit, the man looked more Ros than Taraskath, despite his name. He was also an Orthodox faithful, unlike most of his Taraskath brethren. Yet, he identified himself as a Taraskath. But above all he was a Taraskovyan and proud to be one.

Minister for Education and Science, Galina Vladimirova, was a joyful woman in her forties and a living propaganda of a healthy style of life. She only drank one special occasions and in very small quantities, never touched a cigarette or anything resembling it, drugs were totally forbidden (which is no wonder, because she was known as maybe the staunchest advocate for toughening the already tough anti-drug laws). She could not be qualified as “sex bomb”, yet she was not ugly. Some called her “pretty”. But the green eyes blonde was a mother of three healthy children and completely devoted to two things: her country and her family.

Minister for Healthcare and Environment was none else than Professor Aibolit Lekarev, a prominent Taraskovyan doctor. Under him, the nation could be certain to be healthy and was assured to breathe only the cleanest of airs. Otherwise, the man in his seventies had white hair and looked at everybody with a manner that grandparents have when watching their grand children. Even towards the Grand Duke.

And of course, there was the Grand Duke of all Taraskovya, Shokath-Kshas, King of Dreamreach, King of Nyi-Gardarika, bearer of numerous other titles. The current holder of the Sword of Rulers (which made him Shokath-Kshas and, thus, all the other titles were included as a bonus) was in his sixties, yet his Taraskath blood made him look young and barely thirty years of age. He had recently converted to Orthodoxy, plunging various professors of theology into a “passionate” debate on whether a Shokath-Kshas can swear fealty to the Seven Deities without being a faithful of their faith. But the general public met it positively. After all, more than three quarters of the Taraskovyan population was Orthodox. He was still unmarried, switching girlfriends periodically, even though his latest venture with an Istolinathian drow by the name of Vailphi Zaupahin was already into its second year.

And once all the introductions have been made and some chit chat exchanged, everybody took their seats by a round table that was ready for the occasion. Fine Taraskovyan wine was on the table, but other drinks were available, too, should anyone desire them. The footmen brought in the salads before a more consistent meal later on.

“We hope Your Majesty had the time to relax after your flight,” Mikhail said with a smile. “It would put a taint on Taraskovyan hospitality if it came to be we rushed you into official business without giving you the time to breathe a bit.”

The Empress of Tartarus had entered the room with a considerably small delegation. She was accompanied by Angelina Ormond, the Ambassador to Taraskovya, and an aid of the Ambassador’s, who would pick up anything she missed. A couple of other ministers made up the rest of the party.

Also present, was the every watchful Chris Denton, though he did not sit at the table, instead he made himself invisible a short distance away. No one was expecting any trouble, but since the threat on her life, the Empress was rarely away from at least one member of her security force. At least while in public.

Gehenna took her seat, once all the introductions were made, and arranged the skirt of her dress. She had changed into something less businesslike for lunch, settling for a white dress, with a subtle black pattern, and a black bolero jacket, as it was a little cold for the dress alone. Her dark brown hair had been pinned up, keeping it out of her face.

“I had a very enjoyable rest, Your Majesty,” she answered, her gaze on the Grand Duke. “Unfortunately, it was not all pleasure, business is so hard to hide from, even when miles away from the Empire.”

She watched as her plate was placed before her, then let her gaze work around the table, silently putting a name to each face. Finally her eyes met the Grand Duke’s.

“I am looking forward to dealing with the official side of the visit, as much as I am looking forward to spending some time learning more about Taraskovya.” She picked up her fork, but made no move to actually use it. “From the brief amount I have seen already, I am delighted to be able to share in its delights first hand.”

“Business is not always troublesome,” Mikhail said, sipping some wine. “Minister Lareth here and the experts from his Ministry have been working on a set of proposals on increasing trade ties between our two countries. So that we all get richer and can allow ourselves the finest wine in the world.”

The Grand Duke paused and gave a glance at the Minister for Economy and Finances, who nodded in return.

“Indeed, there is potential to increasing trade and exchange of services,” Il’liar said before pausing a little and then continuing on with some insight into the current trade situation and balance.

The Tartarian delegates responsible for this chapter of the talks listened and responded accordingly, then gave their own vision. The sides compared their visions, tried to establish consensus within the framework agreed upon during the pre-negotiations phase during the preparation for the visit of Her Imperial Majesty.

The plates switched to green shchi, sorrel-based and served warm, not hot. With the plates switched the conversation as other bilateral issues were discussed, such as promotion of tourism, cultural exchange, cooperation in criminal investigations. A number of sectors were discussed, with the parties finding more ground for consensus in some than in others. But it cost nothing to discuss it all in a comfortable atmosphere.

Then came in the kulebyaka. A kulebyaka (http://www2.ac-lyon.fr/enseigne/russe/divers/recettes/kulebyaka.jpg) is a Russian long cake with fish, meat or cabbage (other more exotic recipes existed, but were not part of the traditional cuisine). In the present case, all three variants were on the table, freshly cut and baked, steam rising from the insides. Plates with all three kinds were placed all over the table, to allow those by the table to make their selection.

And when the main dish that was the kulebyaka was over, came in the desserts. Varenyks with cherries with fresh sour cream, warm, melting in the mouth. Accompanying was icecream, to the personal choice of everybody. And as the desserts came, so came in the honey vodka in crystal glasses, approximately a hundred grams of beverage per glass. Before the varenyks were eaten, the Grand Duke stood up and pronounced a rather ceremonial toast to a bright and prosperous relation between Taraskovya and Tartarus for the benefit of the people of both countries.

This must have been the moment some Tartarians feared the most, for they actually had to stand up, utter a triple “Hurrah!”, empty their glasses in a single go and then smash them against the floor. If all the glasses broke to bits, then it meant everything would be for the best. Of course, nobody really believed into superstitions, but traditions were traditions and had to be respected.

The sound of breaking glass filled the room for a second before everybody sat back behind the table to begin the dessert.

“I hope Your Majesty found this little excursion into Taraskovyan cuisine to her liking,” Mikhail said, smiling. Normally, the Tartarians were to ensure that the cooks didn’t cook anything that the Empress would detest and, thus, to work out a menu suitable for all in the room. Sometimes hick ups happened, however, and it was the hope that no such hick up happened this time.

The Tartarian delegation threw themselves into the proceedings with vigour, discussing trade and other important points with the Taraskovyans. Of course, the real details would be hashed out away from the dinner table. All aspects would be confirmed later with the Empress, who would give her agreement in private. That did not mean that she did not partake in the initial discussions and listened with interest at everything that was raised.

At the same time, she took ample opportunity to savour the meal that she was eating. Food had to be appreciated and the efforts of the chef were not wasted on the Empress, who enjoyed all that was put in front of her. It had been driven into her as a child that until she had tried something she would not know whether she liked it, even if it did look entirely inedible. Of course, her office still sent word of the Empress’ preferences.

Once the toast and the smashing of the glasses had been completed, carried out with enthusiasm by the Tartarian party, the Empress settled herself back down into her chair. She let her gaze wander once more around the table, her smile aimed at each of the people seated there with her and the Grand Duke.

“The meal was simply delicious,” Gehenna replied, as she picked up her cutlery to begin on her dessert. “Dinner has been both productive and enjoyable. I am sure that we can only go from strength to strength following discussions here.” Her attention was once more focused on her host.

“I am quite hopeful that we have planted the seed of a very fructuous and profitable future relationship between our two countries, Your Majesty,” Mikhail said with a smile, before plunging a varenik into some cream and sending it into his mouth.

Minister Lareth inclined his head in agreement. “Indeed, the consensus reached at today’s lunch is very promising. I am sure our mutual economic and financial lobbies shall be quite happy.”

“Most certainly,” the Grand Duke said after he finished chewing and swallowing. “However, I believe we can close the official portion of the lunch right…” he gave a glance at his watch. “… now. Unless our honourable guests have anything else official and formal they would like to discuss.”

And with that the official talk pretty much came to the end as all points and issues have already been debated and talked about.

“Has Your Majesty ever assisted a contest of skill in Horseback Archery?” Mikhail asked, looking at the Empress. “As this is what you are going to be treated to this evening, I am quite curious as to how much you know exactly.”

“I believe that we have covered all that needs to be covered, by us, at least,” the Empress replies, smiling as she lowered her glass and placed it back onto the table. “We should leave the finer details to those who know more about such things.” As she spoke she let her gaze fall upon the other people in the room, and with a slight wave of her hand, indicated her own people.

Removing her napkin from her lap, in the time honoured way of showing that she had finished, Gehenna turned back to the Grand Duke, as glint of interest in her eyes. “I would be honoured to assist, Your Majesty, and I have to admit that other than what the title give away, I know very little, and would be grateful if you could further me details of the event, so that my assistance might be more useful.”

The smile that she gave Mikhail was warm, and her voice genuinely sounded full of interest. She had seen people perform archery from horseback, having sat through a few historical reconstructions of the great events in Tartarian history, but decided that this sounded much more thrilling. She always appreciated the effort made by those of her own nation, but she always felt that once you had seen one re-enacted battle, you had seen them all.

“Well, Your Majesty, as you are most cordially invited to today’s finals of the Taraskovyan Championship, I believe that it would not be suitable for me to reveal every single detail so as to take out the surprise effect,” Mikhail said as he put himself some ice-cream. “Minister Khat can tell about the origins. Ithun?”

The Minister of Foreign Affairs inclined his head in acknowledgment. Himself not really good at the sport, he was none the less knowledgeable in various old Taraskovyan and Taraskath customs.

“Horseback archery began to spread through Taraskovya a good thousand years ago. Before that, Taraskovyans were not really skilled horsemen. It surely had to do with the fact that we had no horses here during the old Taraskath times,” Ithun said with a smile. “As Your Majesty surely knows, if a Taraskovyan combatant has the choice to take his enemy from afar, he will do so and never engage into melee. This is why horseback archery spread like wildfire through Taraskovya and its numerous armed forces of the time and made our cavalry units quite… particular.”

The Minister paused to let the information sink in before continuing.

“With the appearance of firearms, archery quickly lost its military importance. However, people continued to practice it regularly and organized trials of skill and other competitions,” Ithun spoke. “Due to the particularities of the sport, it came to certain stagnation during the past century as entertainment was often absent from such competitions...”

“That is, until the Horseback Archery League threw in some spice and brought the sport back into the broader masses,” the Grand Duke finished, allowing the Minister to sip on some wine in the meanwhile. “While still a test of skill, today’s competitions are quite entertaining and very popular with the Taraskovyan people. I am most certain that Your Majesty shall find the evening’s event entertaining and not dull.”

“I am sure I shall find this evening very enjoyable,” Gehenna replied, having listened intently to Ithun’s explanation of horseback archery. “In Tartarus, though no longer used in the military, it is still very popular among the aristocracy. Of course, they prefer to have their feet firmly planted on Terra Firma, as do I myself.” She smiled, as the image of some of her acquaintances on horseback filled her mind.

“Having some experiencing in archery, though not to as high a standard as many, I can certainly understand the level of excellence that has to be reached to achieve firing accurately at a target while riding a horse,” she continued, quite into the subject.

The Empress then turned to the Grand Duke. “Perhaps we could take a ride one afternoon, if you are free. I find there is nothing quite as calming as a good gallop.” She smiled, thinking of the times she had cleared her head following a very hectic day with a ride. She used to disappear for hours before she took the throne, just riding. Of course, the palace had good grounds, but she always preferred her house by the lake or the one at the beach for total freedom.

“Our stables are at Your Majesty’s full disposition,” the Grand Duke spoke. “The Great Gardens are big enough for a good ride, and if anything we can always take the short flight to the Darith Isle. It is a very scenic bit off land, with only the Vigvar Regiment, Black Hand Cavalry Division there for population. But then again, they are there to keep off any intruders.”

“If I may allow myself, Sire, but it is actually the Amal Regiment of the Division that is on duty there at this moment,” the Minister of Defence, Anatoly Orlov, spoke as the Grand Duke finished.

“Ah. I stand corrected. And indeed, I forgot that the rotation took place two weeks ago,” Mikhail addressed the Minister with a smile before looking again at Gehenna. “With all of the things going on in our little corner of the world, I knew I would eventually lose track of at least something.”

“It might, however, be a bit complicated to arrange a stay on Darith due to the already heavy schedule, visits-wise, of her Majesty, Sire,” Ithun spoke up as he arched an eyebrow. And then he sipped some of his wine, pondering.

“Might be, might be,” the Grand Duke said pensively before looking at the Empress again. “Well, if Your Majesty absolutely wants to take a ride through the mountains of Darith or Cardinia and you do not get the opportunity during the present visit, you are always welcome in Taraskovya on a private visit. As our dear Minister of Economy and Finances here uses to say…”

The Grand Duke gave a look at Il’liar Lareth, who was busy chatting over some things or the other with some members of the Tartarian delegation, surely having found some colleagues to discuss such thrilling subjects as base interest rates, investment portfolios and trade balance figures. The Grand Duke’s reference interrupted him a little as he looked at Mikhail arching an eyebrow.

“That tourists are welcome in Taraskovya and their money can feel at home?”

“Indeed,” Mikhail said with a light smile before looking back at the Empress. “And as a cherry on the cake, we have a special privacy and confidentiality package available specifically for foreign heads of state and other Very Important Dignitaries. Otherwise, the Great Gardens are here for your leisure.”

Listening intently as the three men explained her options, Gehenna did not have trouble deciding that her best option was also the one closest at hand. “As the Great Gardens are permitted to be ridden around, I can think of nowhere I would like to ride more. Wondering around the garden is also on my agenda to do before I leave, and the chance of seeing so much more of them on horseback is an opportunity too good to miss.”

She flicked her attention over the three men at the table, before once more settling her attention on the Grand Duke. “The thought of being able to come back and visit the other places will certainly be something that I will attempt to do, unfortunately, as you know, finding time for such visits is not always as easy as I may wish. Despite that, I will be looking for the opportunity to do so once it presents itself.”

The visit of the Vigvar University, one of Taraskovya’s main and most important higher education facilities, happened according to plan. The Empress and the Grand Duke toured the grounds, listened to some professors speaking about ground breaking research, gave speeches in front of an audience of several thousand students. No press conference was given, however, as the heads of state retired back to the Winter Palace.

Then at the convened hour the Grand Duke and the Empress, as well as an assortment of dignitaries, boarded luxury transport aircraft and set out of the palace grounds and into the city. They were escorted by Cavalier Guards on grav-bikes, outfitted not with the dress armour and wings, but with all-around combat outfits. And of course, to clear the roads in front of the motorcade there were policemen on grav-bikes, in similar outfits to the life-Guards, just lighter and with different insignia and colour patterns.

Vigvar is as busy a city during night time as during day time and, despite its small population, had quite a renowned night life. Foreign and domestic tourists that came to see the seat of the Taraskovyan behemoth, Taraskovyans that worked or lived in the city, everybody mixed for a good drink or laugh.

This evening, however, things were a bit more interesting. Indeed, the final round of the Horseback Archery Championship was about to start at the Grand Duke Nikolai’s Hippodrome. The best of the best in Taraskovya were competing for the prize: a silver arrow with an impressive diamond for head and fine gold feathering. The winner would have the honour to keep the trophy for an entire year before defending it again.

The Hippodrome was situated on the eastern edge of the city, where the Vigvar Plateau fell into a deep valley. The Outer Ring and its mountain-tall buildings glittered in the distance, to the point where earth met the sea and then there was only sky and the rising moon’s reflection upon the water.

The competition area itself was shining with numerous light works as a myriad of vehicles made their way into the various parkings, guided by security and police personnel. Of course, the usual fuss of waiting in a queue, even a short one, was unknown to Heads of State, whose convoy passed on a reserved lane and went on to the special VIP parking. The area was already sealed by “Silence and Death” leib-guards in combat fatigues, as well as a small unit dressed into ceremonial armours for escort duty.

“The Vigvar Hippodrome, first built by Grand Duke Nikolai and named after his own self,” Mikhail explained to his guest as the two made their way from the convoy and towards the entrance. “He was a keen lover of horse racing and all things that had to deal with horses. He ordered every regiment of his army to become mounted. As a result, that same cavalry horde suffered a catastrophic defeat against the united army of Kidaksh and Elutar during the Salt War.”

The Grand Duke smiled as the party went through the doors and down some finely decorated corridors. “This cooled his ardours a bit and in half a year his Taraskath infantry pillaged Elista, forcing the High Duke of Elutar into submission. The Hippodrome was built to celebrate victory and, as the legend says, to train future Grand Ducal cavalrymen. The place has been rebuilt quite a few times and today is one of Taraskovya’s largest covered arenas.”

And as the party entered the Royal Lounge, the full scale of the building revealed itself. It was a truly gigantic structure, fully covered, with public benches all around the arena. Tens of thousands of people were seated, whether it was in normal sectors or special lounges, the Vigvar Hippodrome had space for all. Giant and smaller screens were spread around the site, to allow people a closer look of what was going on in a distant corner of the arena.

Some entertainment was already being provided by military cadets. In Taraskovya, cadets were military school pupils up to the age of 14, at which time they passed on to a higher military school instance and got the title of yunker. The difference between a cadet and a yunker, apart from age, was also that cadet education was still quite comparable to civilian schools, with tougher discipline and more physical activities. Yunkers were exposed to the full spectrum of military activities, from learning fire arms and other weapons at the start of the course to piloting military vehicles and difficult tactical planning towards graduation when they obtained an officer rank with the military.

Twelve year old boys and girls on ponies, dressed into black and red uniforms, in shakos, were showing off their riding skills by building formations, breaking them up, jumping over some obstacles. A number of instructors, in similar uniforms with tall red plumes on their shakos, on tall horses, were calling out orders to their little subordinates.

The Royal Lounge was situated in the middle of one of the sides of the arena, elevated above the other spectator places. It was quite spacious, with comfortable furniture and quite a few screens to allow those in it to follow all the events going on. And as the Grand Duke and the Empress entered the lounge and took their seats, a series of trumpets resonated, signifying to the loyal subjects that their ruler was around.

A loud cheer was then heard from the audience to the news, as quite an important share of the public yelled out “Slava Tsariu!” Glory to the Czar! Apparently, the idea of the Imperial Reform was gaining more and more popularity with the Taraskovyan people day by day. But it was still far off and for now, Mikhail was the Grand Duke of all Taraskovya. Velikiy Kniaz Vsetaraskovskiy.

The mounted cadets in the arena reformed and rode in formation closer to the Royal Lounge. They then unsheathed their sabres (which were daggers compared to those used by adults) and saluted their commander in chief by extending the blades forward and yelling out an appropriate greeting. Then, with blades held to the arm, they did a review ride to the vigilant eye of their commanders.

“Such drill exercises are a nice way to teach children discipline. And exposure to an impressive audience is both a great honour and a challenge that is excellent for forging one’s character,” Mikhail said to Gehenna. “What with all of our military's technological advancement, we remain loyal to our old traditions and to methods seasoned by time and experience.”

The day continued and Gehenna met every aspect of it with enthusiasm. She enjoyed learning about cultures by seeing them first hand. Despite her privileges, she did not get to visit as many other nations as she would have liked, but the constraints of her position meant that she could not remain away from the Empire for too long and certainly not that often.

Spending time at the university has been interesting and she listened with interest as various members of the facility spoke. During the time, she also managed to have trivial snippets of conversation with the Grand Duke and the others that accompanied them.

Once the evening finally arrived, Gehenna admitted to herself that it was this part of the day that she was most looking forward to, having spoken to Mikhail about it during the dinner. Listening to speeches was one thing, unfortunately it was something she had to do on a regular basis, it was the less normal parts of the day that really captured the Empress’ attention.

When they finally reached the hippodrome, Gehenna accompanied the Grand Duke to their seats and smiled warmly at those they passed. As the beginning of the event began, the Empress allowed herself a moment to look around the arena, noting its size and recalling the history of the place that Mikhail had shared with her as they entered.

“Tradition is something to hold on to, if for no other reason than to learn from it,” Gehenna replied as she took her seat, settling herself ready for the contest. “The Empire of Tartarus has held onto many parts of its history, some so old that most do not even remember why it came about.” A light laugh followed the statement, as she once more gazed around her.

“This is one part of your tradition that I am interested in viewing.” Her attention fixed on to the people in the arena, as she followed them with her eyes. “You managed to pique my interest during dinner, Your Majesty. And I have no doubt that it will live up to my expectation.” As she spoke, she turned and smiled at the Grand Duke, before once more focusing on the movements of those riding around the arena.

“And we express our gratitude to the cadets of the Tal-Kerillith Military Academy for this marvellous show of equestrian skill and discipline,” the announcer’s voice resonated in the arena as the cadets filed out in organised formations through several exits under applauding from the public. “Who knows, maybe one day we shall see some of them disputing the usual match of skill in between the Black Hand and the Cavalier Guard?”

The interior of the arena was blackened out, leaving illuminations only in the audience ring. There was a loud cheer from the audience as they understood what the announcer and the organizers were coming to.

“Before the final rounds of the National Horseback Archery championship begin, we could not make exception to an already established custom. The event that pits two of Taraskovya’s best equestrian units against each other in a contest of skill and marksmanship, of cunningness and daring…”

There was a little pause before the voice continued.

“The Black Hand!” The lights on one end of the arena went up as a procession of horsemen in ceremonial uniforms, the style of which corresponded roughly to those of Napoleonic cuirassiers, with black jackets and golden shoulder pads. The horsemen cuirasses shone with silver as they rode into the lights of the arena. The riders also wore long black cloaks which bore silver trimmings. The small procession of twenty cuirassiers rode with elegance and great dignity into the lights and spread out into a crescent.

The riders were a tad far away to be observed in full detail by the human eye, but the screens were there to help the audience. And the Empress and Grand Duke had their own “close ups” within the lounge. And whether it would surprise Gehenna or not out of the twenty cuirassiers six were women. The Tartarian Empress would surely already know that the Taraskovyan society was never either matriarchal or patriarchal and that historically every individual that knew how to wield a sword or a bow had a chance of success. And even if by the past the role of women in society varied, the military never denied entry to anyone who knew how to wield a weapon and willing to abide by strict discipline (which continued into the present day with the TNDF becoming, quite paradoxically, a very socially tolerant institution while being extremely politically conservative).

“The renowned Black Hand Cavalry Division, which traces its history back to times immemorial. Its power and ruthlessness instill fear in enemy minds and its efficiency and rapidity bring hope to besieged friends! And representing this fine example of Taraskovya’s military excellence tonight is the Amal Cuirassiers Regiment!”

The crowd went wild, as a good portion of the audience began cheering their favourites. Flags and banners were waved, chants could be heard.

“Last year, the Vigvar Lancers have torn victory by a small margin from the Cavalier Guards. Shall today’s Cuirassiers be able to stand up to the task of defending the honours? I am sure the “Pride and Honour” has already decided not to repeat last year’s defeat… and thus they come! The famed second battalion of the Alexander Regiment! I give you… the iron men with eagles’ wings!”

The lights on the opposite side of the arena flashed up to reveal a procession of twenty cavalier guards entering the arena slowly, elegantly, with a touch of haughtiness. Their snow white wings reflected the light, adding to their mysterious aura of masked warriors. The Empress has already seen their comrades during the ceremonial escort through Vigvar. This time, however, they had no lances with pennants, but instead had a bow scabbard and a quiver on each side of their saddle.

By now, two crescents stood on two opposite sides of the arena, with the space in between them filled with darkness.

“When the light goes up, the contest starts. But before this, we have the honour of hosting His Majesty the Grand Duke tonight! And traditionally, the Shokath-Kshas has the option of offering a special prize to the winners of today’s competition!”

Soft spot lights fell on the Royal Lounge, where the Grand Duke stood up and walked a little forward to the edge of the lounge to be seen better.

“Brave Cavalier guards and Cuirassiers. Tonight’s contest is part of a long tradition of friendly competition which push you to brave the limits, to go further ahead in excellence and skill!” Mikhail spoke at a steady, knowing pace, to give his words enough time to be absorbed by the audience. “But tonight, the event is special. For we have a guest of honour with us! Her Imperial Highness Gehenna of Tartarus is with us. And so, tonight’s winners shall not receive a prize simply from the Grand Duke of all Taraskovya, but also from the Empress of Tartarus! But I shall keep the identity of the prize secret for now.”

The hall filled with cheer as the Grand Duke returned to his seat. The cheering then slowly faded into an anticipating silence as everybody waited for the event to start. There was no countdown, no fixed time for the start. The lights would go up any moment and the horsemen and women would have to improvise accordingly. They did not know what obstacles they will have to face, nor what type of targets.

Then the lights went up, with a bright flash which was directed in such a way as to not blind the audience. And immediately the two crescents charged forth into the contest pen. The latter itself comprised quite a few obstacles, from fallen tree trunks to standing columns, with elevations and low points, with water basins. Dissimulated were exit points for the targets.

Targets were represented by droids simulating various kinds of animals, from birds to wolves. The goal was to avoid the obstacles as much as possible to avoid falling down, score the most points as possible and lose as few men as possible. Each fallen horseman brought penalty points to his team. All targets had to be hit while the horse was moving, and firing while stationary was forbidden. The game went on until all targets were down, the number of targets never defined in advance. As such, rivals had to be cunning and even “steal” targets from enemies if needed.

The participants had a sturdy composite bow each, yet instead of normal arrows, something else was used. It was a small device which, once activated, projected an ethereal mass both sides, shaping the arrow accordingly. Modern technology replaced the arrows of old, which was explained by security reasons: once the modern arrow flew above a certain line, the projection vanished and the projector itself was harmless. This allowed the organizers to avoid using sturdy armoured glass all along the tribunes.

Of course, each projector bore a signature identifying it as belonging to its master, thus each time the arrow hit something the points were given immediately and accordingly. From time to time, the archers would face a surprise, such as a wolf popping from behind and jumping on the rider to knock him down, thus reducing the team and adding penalty points to the team.

There were some very tense and passionate moments during the encounter. A cavalier guard noticed a wolf attacking a cuirassier and, before the other cuirassiers had the time to release the arrows, fired off one of his own. The droid found itself with three arrows, but the points went to the winged riders and were taken off from the “black handers” for the “lost comrade”.

After about twenty minutes of game, it was all over. Two cavalier guards were out against five cuirassiers. After point tallying, the Cavalier Guards were declared as winners by a small margin of the annual contest between the Alexander Regiment and the Black Hand Division.

The victors rode in formation onto a clear spot in the arena and formed ranks. The vanquished placed themselves in formation at a straight angle, in between the winged horsemen and the tribunes. Thus came the award of the prize, handled by some adjutants of the Grand Duke. And the prize was a pennant, of the colours of the royal families of Taraskovya and Tartarus, with a congratulatory message to the winners of the contest.

“Unfortunately for the Black Hand, the Cuirassiers did not manage to obtain victory this time. Maybe they shall take their revanche next year? Who knows? And as the soldiers leave the grounds, the final round of the championship is about to begin!”

The soldiers rode out of the arena, the victors flying their pennant and waving to the cheering audience. The cuirassiers rode side by side with them, the soldiers talking merrily to each other and waving to the public. And yet again the arena was plunged into darkness.

“I hope your Majesty found the opening of the contest to her liking,” Mikhail said to Gehenna. “It was also very generous of you to contribute to this year’s prize. I am sure my winged hussars have appreciated.”

The Empress of Tartarus sat back in her chair, having found herself leaning forward slightly to watch the contest. She watched as the riders left the arena then turned to the Duke, as he spoke to her, a smile of appreciation on her lips, her eyes filled with her interest of the events that had just taken place.

“I enjoyed the contest very much, Your Majesty, and it was a pleasure to be able to show my appreciation with a gift,” Gehenna replied, as she made herself comfortable. “The riders put on such a wonderful performance that it was a shame that one side had to lose. From my experience here tonight, I can only presume that each event is a very closely fought contest, between two very evenly matched teams.”

She once more looked out over the arena, listening to the crowd’s applauding and cheering that filled the air. “It would seem that my enjoyment of the event is matched by the others able to watch such a thrilling competition.”

“They are indeed evenly matched in many manners,” Mikhail responded, giving a glance around the tribune and at the darkened arena as the final preparations for the sporting part of the event was to begin. “Both the Cavalier Guard and the Black Hand are part of the Taraskovyan equivalent of the Royal Guard, or Household Troops. It is just that the former protect me and my relatives and are few in numbers, while the latter are great in numbers and carry the Leib Guard’s banner in the battlefield. There is, thus, a certain rivalry between the two formations.”

He paused for a minute, letting the information sink in. “But the long standing competition between the two formations always happens in good mood. Each year, the Black Hand detaches a team from one of its regiments, or a composed team from several regiments, and they face off a team of Cavalier Guards. Initially the contest happened outside of archery championships, but… let us say that the Horseback Archery League knew how to convince the Household and the General Staff to integrate the contest into the championship.”

At this time, the lights at the edges of the Arena went up again and the public cheered and whistled in anticipation.

“And now,” the presenter’s voice could be heard again, “let us meet the contestants for the title of Horseback Archery Champion.”

From one corner of the arena, rode forth a man in reglementary outfit of black and white. Unlike the military contest before (which had its own rules), the sportsmen and women could not just dress up as they wanted.

“Representing the fine city of Tin-Kedarth, Kidaksh, is none else than Dairith Narth!”

The rider waved to the crowds as he went towards his starting position. From an other corner, another figure rode out, this time clearly a woman.

“Hailing from Novogorod, the capital of the Fiefdom of Novozemie, is the defending Champion Polina Mstislavskaya! ”

The crowd cheered as the woman rode onto her starting position, waving and smiling.

“They call her polianitsa,” the Grand Duke told the Empress. “In the old days, this is what the Ros called the women that chose to become warriors. It was said that to encounter an enemy polianitsa on the battlefield meant death.”

Mikhail smiled as he finished the brief historic explanation. In the arena, a third figure rode forth.

“Peter Volandskiy, from Ekaterinburg, Fiefdom of Zerth, finished in second place last year. I am sure he is not satisfied with the result and will try to do better this year.”

The wannabe champion rode calmly into his starting position, waving to his supporters.

“And finally, the fourth contestant to have made it to the finals. And he is worth a special note, for he is the first ever representative of the Southern Fiefdoms to have made it to the final rounds. Please give a warm greeting to Bernhard Armgard, from Uthar!”

There was yet again cheering as a section of the tribune waved giant flags of the Fiefdom of Uthar and showing off placards and holographic projections with slogans written in Dutch. Some flags of Southern Cardinia and Vyshna, the remaining two Fiefdoms comprising the “Dutch Corner” or “Southern Fiefdoms” were also seen. The young man waved and smiled at the tribunes.

“This reminds me. Ithun, did we not have a curiousity last year, too?” the Grand Duke turned slightly to the Foreign Minister who was sitting nearby.

“Not that I remember, Sire. Two years ago there was a Sortvalian by the name of Ville Rautavaara. He was the first competitor from a Dominion to make it to the finals and finished second,” Ithun responded.

“Thank you, Minister,” Mikhail said as he looked at the Empress. “I must not be giving him enough work if he has time to follow all these contests,” he said pensively, with a touch of humour to his words.

Attention flicking between the goings on in the arena and the conversation of the Grand Duke, Gehenna tied up the two events very well. She gave the polianitsa a larger amount of interest, having expected the contestants to all be male. Of course, there was no reason for them all to be, but in Tartarus it would have been strange to find a woman up against men, especially in a military contest.

As Ithun was brought into the conversation, Gehenna turned away from the action in front of them, and flicked her gaze between the Grand Duke and the Foreign Minister, smiling at the former’s last words.

“I am sure His Excellency only follows these events in order to be of service to Your Majesty,” she laughed lightly, as she returned her attention to the riders, who were getting ready to begin the event. “I admit I would be lost without people around me to clarify little details.”

Down in the gigantic arena, everything became silent as the riders tensed before the start of the competition. As usual, nobody knew when exactly it would start, playing with the competitors’ nerves. The public also fell silent and the entire hippodrome readied itself for the competition. And then the lights suddenly went off.

Three of the riders darted forward, their bows ready and ethereal arrows aimed. Bernhard’s horse had a second of confusion as it paced back a little, the rider leaning down to reassure his steed before darting forward, too, his bow ready. Unlike the competition between the military bodies, the sportive event was somehow more cool and strict. There was no bravado from the competitors, no showing off as one done by young hot blooded leib-guard officers.

The four competitors weighed their shots carefully, aiming well and getting the most points out of each “kill”. Very soon, it became apparent that Peter Volandskiy and Polina Mstislavskaya were distancing the other two competitors steadily. The public went wild as the time given to the riders was steadily coming to an end and each of the competitors strived to score additional points before the “lights went off”. Which they did, the judges declaring that Peter and Polina would face each other off to decide for the rank of champion, while Bernhard and Dairith would decide for third and fourth places.

The round to decide the third rank took place about twenty minutes after the previous game. This time, only two riders were on the field. Both darted off as the lights went on, both eager to be better than the other. Eventually, Dairith proved to be better than his Utharian counterpart and extended his bow into the air triumphantly as he was declared winner.

The final round, to decide the champion, took place soon after the one won by Dairith. The polianitsa and the horobr would face each other off. The former had to defend her title, the latter wanted that title at all cost. The match promised to be quite interesting and tense, and so it was. None of the two archers wanted to let the other win. Points were scored at an astonishing rate and the closer to the end of the game, the denser was the flurry of arrows.

And finally, as the lights went off, Peter extended his bow into the air in triumph as his supporters rose up from their seats to cheer. The man had won, and he was happy, leaning forward to hug the neck of his stallion, ruffling its mane and then jumping off and bowing to the public.

“Well, well, the horobr proved to be stronger than the polianitsa this time around,” Mikhail said pensively as he clapped briefly. He turned to the Empress with a brief explanation. “Horobr is what the Ros called particularly good male warriors. Hm. I am sure these two shall give us a good show next year around.”

In the meantime, the darkened center of the arena went bright again, but this time there was nothing on it. The riders assembled in the center of the arena, mounted, and watched as came forward a procession of riders in rich livery. The prizes were given out by Evgeniy Raiev, the head of the Horseback Archery League and dressed as an archer of old.

The bronze arrow went to the fourth in rank, Bernhard Amgard. The silver arrow went to the third in rank, Dairith Narth. The golden arrow went to Polina Mstislavskaya, who was a bit saddened by her loss, but still nonetheless smiled happily as she extended her arrow into the air.

And finally, the diamond arrow was presented to the champion, Peter Volanskiy. It was a work of art, a platinum shaft holding upon it numerous diamonds, with the tip being made of two diamonds held together in the center.

“I hope Your Majesty found the event entertaining,” Mikhail said as the riders began to slowly leave the arena. The competitors would have the time to change before being assaulted by reporters for interviews. “Do you wish to meet any of the riders or shall we head back to the Palace?”