Representatives of The People's Republic of Renard and The Commonwealth of The Gordonton Islands are planning a meeting in Gordon's Town to discuss trade and industry.
Renard, Bristol International
"Just this way, sirs."
The two men looked to a large man in a suit several zeros away from his normal attire, an ear piece completed the look: Obviously a body guard who was either new at his job or used to other parts of the "freelance security" business.
They followed him anyway, their luggage had been sent ahead and was already aboard the chartered flight. With the recent spate of high profile terrorist attacks around the world the government were intent on the delegation arriving safely. On going economic duldrums piled on the pressure, most people wanted an upturn in the economy: Some wanted a whole new system of government.
On the tarmac an airforce transport aircraft, white and grey with airforce roundells on the tail, was being checked by technicians. Soldiers with locally manufactured FNC rifles were stood around, looking vigilant.
John, who representing the various manufacturers of Renard, looked to their guide/guard. "Is all the security necessary?"
"Quite necessary, sir." The soldier didn't elaborate.
"We aren't even travelling with any defence consultants." John continued, looking at the soldiers again. "So there's no chance of protestors, surely?"
"Some people are convinced we're going to move all the jobs abroad." Hack - the IT industry representative - grinned. "Perish the thought, we all know no one can understand foreigners' accents."
They rounded a bend and walked down a flight of steps to a set of double doors leading out on to the standing for the aircraft. Two more men in suits, looking more relaxed were waiting for them, they had easy smiles and friendly natures.
"We'll be your diplomatic and military advisors for the duration of the trip: We'll tell you not to insult anyone or declare war on anything."
John smiled as he shook their hands. "Good to have you with us."
"The others are already aboard, the pilot says we'll arrive in Gordon's Town in three hours."
The Grand Duke, Gordon's Town
"Hmhm. Get those ones too. Where is the feritlizer?"
"When are all these gardeners going to leave?" asked Mark, representative of Gordonton's Chamber of Commerce, as he entered the lobby of The Grand Duke.
"Soon."murmured Sarah, vice president of The Islands IT Association, as she scanned a clipboard.
Mark and Sarah entered the large conference room where the meeting was to take place. Sitting at the long, wooden table, giving orders to a young man, was a bearded man of about 60. As he saw the two enter, he stood up.
"Ah! Sarah. Mark, my old boy, too long."
"Hello, Mr. McKlevin. How go things at the Commerce Ministry?" asked Sarah.
"Fine. I'll just be watching over the conference, oversee any agreements, if they come up."
"Lets hope so."mentioned Mark.