NationStates Jolt Archive

The Emperor was not seen in the throne room this particular day. He and a few of his advisors had set up shop in the largest library of the capital and occuppied a study room for their use.

Brow leather chairs lined the large oaken table and each seat was occuppied. The table was strewn with open files and pictures. Each individual was going over records in search of the best candidates for this educational exchange. It had been unanimously decided to send one Abh and one land-dweller with one being male and the other female. The discussion had finally narrowed itself down to a select few.

The Emperor spent a few moments looking over the files until he had finally settled back into his chair. "I believe I have made my decision. My first pick will be from the planet Martine in the Hyde System. They seem to be quite adept at art there and I believe the young man will make a good decision."

Debuesec was met with reaffirming nods around the table. "My last pick is Ceilia Nei Ramaral. She has her pilot's license but has not yet entered Star Forces officially. I believe this will be a good oppurtunity for her to experience life outside the Empire."

This time he was not meant with approving nods. "Your majesty you mustn't. You can't send an Abriel away like this."

The glare of an Abriel was quick to grace his face which silenced the man. "Do not pressume to tell me what I can and cannot do."

"Your highness, I believe it is that we are all concerned about what may happen to a future heir to the throne. Your majesty, she is 20 and has proven exceptional in the military. Some say it may not be long before she moves to the position of Imperial Admiral. That is of course after a few years. We don't know what would happen to her."

The glare finally subsided. "Hopefully she will gain a wider understanding of how other nations and races interact which would make her all the more capable leader. I honestly don't see your reasoning behind this. I have made up my mind and that is final. Thank you ladies and gentlemen for your time and council. The meeting is over."

The following day, the respective students and family members were notified of the intention of the Empire to give them the oppurtunity of a life time, the chance to study abroad. The young man was more than happy to accept. The Abriel was more or less forced to go along with it under pretense that she was a future heir to the throne though this would stay strictly confidential from all parties.

Later that same day, the application for both students was sent via text message to the Xanthal government as it listed qualifications for students.

To Xanthal Government:
From the Abh Empire:

I have been going over possible applicants for the talked about student exchange with your ambassador. I have come up with the following two students that I believe will repressent the Empire well.

Name: Andrew Reedie
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Home: Planet Martine
Hobbies: The young man has a love for the arts which vary from holographic art all the way to classical music. He has studied the classics from times long ago and is also accustomed to those that have recently graced the music scene. Andrew is adept at painting and mimicking light and sound so that it bends to his will in holographic art. A few of his pieces are even on display in Lakfakalae. He has a minor experience in horse riding and with an equestrian team.

Name: Abriel Nei Ramaral Ceilia (this is to be kept confidential from schools and all students)
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Home: Lakfakalae
Hobbies: The woman has received her pilot's license ahead of her class. Displays the standard love of flying as every Abh does. Ceilia has even begun working her way into the jousting leagues among several crewmembers. Takes to music and swimming well. Expresses ability to speak well in public. The woman also enjoys singing and can be a bit more brought out with a little guidance.

The applications are reviewed, and a problem quickly crops up. Andrew Reedie is quickly granted admission by the Ministry of Education, but the confidentiality requirement for the Abriel's transfer runs up against legal barriers. The application is sent to the Minister of Education, then to a district court. After a few days the court rules that omitting or falsifying any information from the official profile of a Xanthalian resident is not allowed by the National Security Act, and that restricting access to any information without legal cause violates public information statutes. The Alphin objects, and a legal skirmish begins. In the meantime, an official communique is dispatched to the Empire that reads "In the matter of the temporary transfer of Imperial students to the care of Xanthal, Andrew Reedie is granted residence in the Socialist Republic. The ligitimacy of classifying the name of Abriel Nei Ramaral Ceilia, however, has been called into question. Her case is currently under review. Please advise the Alphin on the necessity of nondisclosure in this instance."

The message received by the Xanthal government was to be expected somewhat. The family of Andrew Reedie was notified of his approval and informed to prepare his things for the journey and temporary stay in a foreign nation.

A message was sent stating that the confidentiality was only for her protection and to ensure that her treatment there would not be changed because of her status.

After a full week of legal bickering, the Triumvirate decides the issue is no longer worth pressing. A new message is sent to the Empire. "The Republic regrets to inform you that identity information cannot be altered or withheld in the case of student transfers as far as the situation is apparent. Abriel Nei Ramaral Ceilia is welcome to reside and attend class in the Republic, but her name will be on public record if she chooses to do so."

The Emperor called another meeting, this time in the throne room. The only men attending was the Chancellor of Education and Chief of Security. The Chancellor seemed the one most concerned about the young woman. "Your majesty I implore you to reconsider this decision."

Dubeusec looked at his Chief of Security. "What do you think?"

This particular individual being Abh betrayed no emotions. "Your highness if I may be so bold. I do not believe that Xanthal government officials will persecute her nor do you need to worry about teachers or any other official. If the student body concerns the Chancellor then I remind him that Ceilia is an Abriel and as such has the wrath of one. I believe the woman can take care of herself if the need arises."

The Emperor nodded. "I agree with you assesment. The Skeel Family has always been more strong headed than the rest. Besides, the idea is to give the woman some time away from the palace where she will have to look after herself and care for herself. Who knows Chancellor, she may even make honest friends while she is away."

The Chancellor huffed and sighed looking non to pleased. Later a message was sent back to the government stating that they would agree to their terms and stressed that they were trusting Xanthal with her.

A little over three months later, Andrew and Ceilia are aboard a Xanthalian Ministry of Transportation shuttle, a calicke type, with seven other passengers, mostly human and thanic. Ceilia is the only abh aboard, but nobody seems to pay any particular attention to her or Andrew, seated together near the front of the compartment on the port side. Their luggage, besides any carry-on items, rides beneath their feet in a seperate compartment. It has been a three day ride by Earth Standard Time, a lengthy trip considering that, beyond the occasional bathroom trip and stretching of the legs, it is spent sitting in an admittedly comfortable chair; each with a computer terminal attached to the back of the seat in front of them for personal use. Now, with the final meal behind them and everyone belted in, the trip is finally coming to an end. The intercom activates, and the familiar masculine voice of the ship's computer cuts through the cabin.

"Good morning passengers. The ship is now approaching YLZ-01. Atmosphere is sixty-eight percent nitrogen, thirty percent oxygen, one percent carbon dioxide, one percent trace elements. One percent margin of local atmospheric variation. Local legal jurisdiction: Socialist Republic of Xanthal. Applicable legal warnings for destination: no narcotics, no weapons, no privacy laws in effect, limited diplomatic immunity for visitors. Other warnings: this destination has a low public order score, this destination has a high rate of theft, no decency laws are in effect at this destination, this destination has a moderate biohazard rating. The local Earth Standard Time is three fifty-eight. For more information or information in another language, please refer to your computer interfaces. If this is your scheduled destination and you are unwilling to comply with local ordinance or have concerns about disembarking, please inform a service person. Docking in approximately five minutes."

Of course, they'd been given identical warnings before they departed and a crash-course in Xanthalian law before that, but it's not uncommon to get such information upon arrival; they'll probably get a similar message once they disembark. The pair has been told they will meet a Xanthalian ambassador at the arrival area, that they must stay near the shuttle until they are found by the proper official. Simple enough. They were also told in the informational letters they recieved from the Republic that public international terminals in Xanthal are chaotic and that they must keep their wits about them. Now though, in the stillness of the shuttle and the quiet drone of voices, they have a moment to speak to one another or make any last-minute checks before they step out towards their new life.

Ceilia had her long blue hair tied up so that it would cover the pointiness of her ears. This was her chance to be treated just like everyone else, like the rest of the students. She wore a simple white dress with a simple golden stincled cuff. She wore a plain golden tiarra with green emeralds in the place of the alpha. It was nothing serious really but only for display, more like a piece of jewelry than any practical purpose or showing status. As all Abh are, she was a sight to behold and the simple dress did nothing to diminish it.

Andrew on the other hand wore a green silk collared shirt and blue jeans with a black belt and black dress shoes. He wore no tiarra having opted to stay out of Star Forces.

They both stayed to secure their belongings and carry-ons. This was Andrew's first time meeting an Abriel so to say he was intimidated was an understatement. No words were exchanged between the two but he did make an attempt to not gawk when they got off the calicke. Both went over some of the details of the planet noting that public transportation was going to be the key for anything around here. This should be an interesting ride for both of them.

The shuttle lands in a huge docking bay aboard the massive orbital station. The sheer size of the place is mind-boggling, and even as shuttles land and take off, passing through the forcefield that keeps atmosphere in the room, crowds move about, in and out, off and on shuttles, always careful to avoid the marked-off landing zones. There are only smaller ships here; large vessels generally use the station's external docking ports. The two imperial guests are jostled and jarred more than once as they wait for their luggage to be unloaded. A couple of people ask them for directions, but of course they go away unhelped. Within a few minutes the two have their things together, and they are approached by an older man, almost elderly, that emerges from the crowd beside them wearing the uniform of a Xanthalian diplomat. He pulls a wallet-sized object from his pocket and opens it, showing them an identification card, though the text on it is indecipherable. "Andrew Reedie and Abriel Nei Ramaral Ceilia?" He butchers the abh name in saying it, though it is an honest mistake for a foreigner.

Both set their belongings on the ground and curtly bowed to the diplomat. Ceilia speaks up for the group here even though the boy may be young, he does know protocal amongs royalty. "That is correct. We are the students from the Abh Empire."

The word student didn't sit so well with the young woman as she thought herself ready for the military and beyond such. Still, she took it all in stride as this was her chance to finally be on her own without pesky servants are security personnel hounding her every move.

"Please follow me." He leads them out of the docking area and into a series of crowded promenade halls and elevators. After walking for perhaps two kilometers, they pass through a security door and emerge into a quiet, deserted conference room, a window on one side affording a pleasant view of the planet below. Taking a seat at the head of the rectangular table, he motions the guests into chairs. "Sit down." When they have done so, he proceeds. "My name is Cymrik Lawrence, and I have been appointed to serve you as the Xanthalian government's liason. For lack of a better term, I am your legal guardian for the duration of your stay. Your well-being is my responsibility. I am not going to follow you around; I have been told you are mature young people, and I expect you to demonstrate that. Obey our laws and follow my instructions; we should get along just fine." He meets Ceilia's eyes as he finishes the sentence, then Andrew's.

Cymrik pulls a briefcase off the floor beside his chair and sets it on the corner of the table where he can access it without it blocking the line of sight between the students and himself. He snaps it open and pulls out a pair of sleek black watches, sliding one to each of them. "These watches are currently set to display Mirfak III solar time. They can also be set to display Xanthalian time, Earth Standard time, or the solar time of any of the other three Xanthalian homeworlds. Do you understand?"

The dignitary's old eyes are intense, and he speaks in a matter-of-fact, no-nonsense tone. He does not seem very friendly, but perhaps that is just because there are serious matters to cover up front; understandable considering the pronounced transition the imperial citizens are making.

The walk wasn't much really for either one of them since it was only a couple of kilometers. The window to the planet below caught before their attentions for a moment. The boy having never seeing much of space itself whereas the girl was looking down at what was to come, life on the ground.

The two students receive the watches and place them on their wrists after making a final inspection.

Both nodded that they understood.

The ambassador nods approvingly. "Good. Before we continue, do you have any questions?"

Both had similar questions on their minds. The young man spoke up first. "What will we be studying?" Remembering his place, Andrew's eyes went wide and he bowed rediculously. "Excuse me your Highness I didn't mean..."

"That is enough. Out here I am not a princess or royalty, I'm just me so you do not have to worry about being so formal. Besides, I had the same question. I would also like to know where we will be staying and with who."

"You will both be attending fifth grade, which consists of a general studies course load. You were originally slated to attend class together, but I am going to separate you as young Andrew obviously has some trouble functioning in your presence, Ceilia. The three of us will live together in a house that has been prepared for your stay." He closes the briefcase and stands. "I would like to get the two of you home before dark, so we can address this issue further along the way."

A few hours later, after a ride down to the surface, the scanning and recording of their biological specifications and luggage by customs, a shuttle hop across the ocean from Dolĕros Spaceport, and a brief ride on an impressively well-kept subway train, the group arrives in a pleasantly suburban neighborhood in the island city of Olenk. The air is warm and the weather fair this evening as they walk across the modest, well-kept yard to the single-story residence’s front door. Sĭmrĭk swipes his identification card at the door, opening it. “Your cards should work as well,” he notes as he passes over the threshold into a small entryway, referring to the identification cards each of the students had been issued at the customs checkpoint in Dolĕros. He removes his shoes and moves immediately to a couch in the nearby living room, where he sits with a sharp release of breath.

Andrew quickly enters and sets his belongings down to remove his shoes. Once those are taken care and placed out of the way, he picks his things back up and looks around the inside noting that it seemed proper enough for a student to stay in.

Ceilia looks up at the sky one last time then lets out a heavy sigh. She crosses the threshold and removes her heels and sets them beside Andrew's shoes. "Mr. Lawrence, where should we store our belongings?"

"I don't know," he replies nonchalantly. "This is my first time here, too. Find a bedroom or something." He's snippy for an ambassador.

Ceilia grunted and nodded her head towards the hall for Andrew to follow. They each found a separate room and began unpacking and stored their clothing away. A few minutes later found them both in the room with the ambassador.

"If there is nothing else, I think we'll both retire."

"Yes, yes..." Cymrik says, already half-asleep himself. "Sleep."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning he wakes the two bright and early. "There is much to do before you start classes tomorrow. Prepare as you wish and tell me when you are ready to leave."

Both yawned and stretched in similar fashion. Being the gentleman, Andrew allowed Ceilia to have the bathroom and shower first. The Abriel enjoyed the refreshing warm shower and taking the oppurtunity to let her long hair relax instead of being done up to cover her ears. She exited in a robe she brought from home and her hair wrapped up in a towel. She smiled as she passed Andrew who had been patiently waiting all this time. "All yours."

The young man followed much of the same routine with refreshing and brushing his teeth. Ceilia rumaged through her closet looking for something to wear and finally settled on an import. To the Abh style, a woman's business suit was an import. She kept her hair down this day not bothering to hide her pointed ears. She adorned the same golden tiarra as yesterday and met Andrew, wearing blue jeans and green collared shirt, out in the hall. Both walked over to the door together. "We're ready."

Cymrik turns off the television and stands, his joints cracking slightly in the process. "Ooh. I'm getting too old for this job." He runs a hand through his gey hair and clears his throat. "Very well, let us fetch you some supplies." They exit the house and walk into the morning light, a faint mist hanging in the air as dewdrops glisten from the grass, trees, and structures. It is a beautiful time of day to be outside, so naturally they don't have long to enjoy it. After a short walk they're down into the subway station, through the gates after a quick identification card swipe apiece, and on the platform waiting for a train. It is not much different from structures with idential purpose built a millenium ago, with a few modern touches like forcefields seperating the tracks and platforms for rider safety, longer-lasting synthetic building materials, and far superior ambient lighting.

Unlike the previous evening, or perhaps they just notice it more now that they are waiting there, the ambassador and students are sharing the platform with a good number of others. While the few dozen standing about certainly do not constitute a crowd on the spacious platform, both Andrew and Ceilia quickly become aware of the curious glances in their direction from the humans, xanthalians, than, and one curious green and orange creature, literally stick-thin, that they do not recognize. One, a than, young by the size of it, approaches Ceilia with a series of clicks, pops, hisses, and screches that grate on the unaccustomed ears of the Abriel. "What is that thing on your head?" her translator streams out in a calm, level monotone devoid of inflection. At least the sentence structure is correct. Still, considering that over one fifth of the Xanthalian population is biologially incapable of speaking Mirfakan, it's surprising that the nation's translation machines aren't more impressive in their capabilities.

As it asks the question the bug-like creature extends one of its two bone-plated arms to touch the tiara, its large compound eyes fixed upon the golden alpha in childlike wonder. The ambassador watches this warily, as the youngster has no apparent guardians in sight.

The Abh books for species are not impressive by any stretch of the imagination. Only those that are encountered are ever listed for students to learn about while most only bother conversing with land-dwellers or Abh.

Ceilia looks a little hesitant at first while the creature moves to touch it but she steeles herself and doesn't back down. "It is a piece of jewelry to cover a slight marking on my forehead."

The young than touches the control tiara, its clumsy plated hand making a small clank against the hard metal, then quickly withdraws its limb. It 'speaks' again, bowing respectfully as if suddenly remembering its place. "I apologize for my intrusion." A train glides into the station opposite the track beside which Ceilia and her party are waiting, and the than hurries off across the width of the span. "You are very pretty, miss! Thank you!" It waves awkwardly from just inside the train, which is completely packed in strak contrast to the sparsely populated station, then is mostly obscured by the doors as the train rushes off again with a soft electric noise and a whoosh of air.

The young woman bowed at the Than's compliments and then exits the train along with her companions.

She smiles slightly. Someone touching her tiarra would have been completely unheard of. Of course Ceilia didn't mention that it also showed her status but she was schooled that saying such was not always wise. Ceilia was already enjoying herself.

A few more uneventful minutes pass, during which one train goes by the station without stopping. Shortly afterward, another train stops at the station, this time going the correct direction. It is significantly less crowded than the one the than boarded earlier; in fact, it is quite empty. The natural conclusion is that this train is headed away from the business district. They board one of the cars quickly, and are spirited away at high speed by the train, but not for long. It promptly slows and stops at another station, then continues, then stops again. This is no express, as evidenced by Cymrik's closed eyes and relaxed pose from his seat near the car's forward door. Their car takes on and relinquishes passengers at almost every stop, though in fairly small numbers. Fortunately, the almost-constant acceleration of the train as it works its way from one station to the next is not felt by the passengers. It seems there is some sort of inertial dampening system at work.

Ceilia was quick to pick up on the inertia control as it reminded her of some of the newer starships that the Empire was implementing.

Andrew on the other hand was lost in his own little world as he was busy watching various races and people of Xanthal board and depart the car. This was indeed appealing to the man.

Nobody else approaches the group, and after a transfer between trains at a large, multi-platform terminal, they arrive at their apparent destination. Leaving the station, the trio ascends to ground level, finding themselves not outside, but in what can best be described as a midsized mall. It is a straightforward structure composed almost exclusively of right angles, enclosed and unremarkable in any aspect of design. Each store is confined in its inset retail space, the halls clear but for the occasional bench. There are a lot of people about, but much like their neighborhood train platform the area of the place makes it feel quite sparsely populated. Andrew and Ceilia are lost in the uniformly constructed hallway. All the signs are written in Mirfakan, all the advertisements list prices in quinaults, and nobody is speaking in Galactic Standard, certainly not in Abh.

They are led along at a healthy pace by their aged guardian, up an escalator and into a store selling what appears to be office and school supplies. Over the open entrance and display glass, a red sign proclaims 'Gälĕn Bĕsfräl Säzoyl Länposoĭneäl' in dark blue text. The interior looks as much like a warehouse as it does like a store. Very utilitarian, nothing flashy here. Once inside, Cymrik instructs the two students to go speak to the clerk, a brown-colored than. "It will tell you what you need," he says, then steps out into the hallway, making a beeline for a nearby bench.

The two shared a look. "Do you think he will speak any of our languages?"

Ceilia shrugged. "I don't know but he most certainly won't speak Abh so we might as well switch to Galactic Standard. I hope he understands or he won't know how to help us."

Ceilia nudged Andrew indicating that he should speak to the than. Andrew cleared his throat and gave a curt bow. "Uh-hello, we need help aquiring school supplies for the..."

"What grade did he say?"

Ceilia thought for a moment. "The fifth I believe."

"Fifth?! But I'm 18!"

"Calm yourself. The grade numbers are obviously different than what you are used to."

Andrew turned back to the than. "for grade five."

The creature's translator takes care of the interpretation. "Identification cards," it says, holding out its hand.

The two fish around for their identification cards and finally turn them over to the clerk.

It swipes both cards in succession through a reader, then hands them back. He picks up a data pad, and almost hands it to Ceilia, then hesitates. "Do you know Mirfakan?"

Ceilia shakes her head. "I'm sorry. No we do not."

The than makes something not unlike a grunting noise that its translator apparently decides isn't translatable. It keeps the pad and walks around the desk into the retail area, picking things out of boxes and off of shelves, bringing them to the counter when its load gets too heavy. It doesn't ask the two foreigners to make any choices, but considering the pronounced lack of variety it would probably be a waste of time if it did. It takes only a couple of minutes for him to accumulate two identical stacks of school supplies, then the than pulls out a backpack for each, red and dark blue with black lining. It hits a few keys on the desktop computer, then slips all Ceilia's supplies into one pack's main pocket, doing the same with Andrew's. It hands them their hastily-loaded bags unceremoniously. "Have a good day."

"Thank you." Both bowed their heads then left the store to find Cymrik sitting comfortably on a bench.

The two had their packs slung over their shoulders and informed him that they had aquired their school supplies with the help of the than clerk.

Cymrik nods. "Do you two want translators?"

Ceilia sighed. "That would be helpful as I am sure that not everyone here speaks Abh or the Standard. It would prevent many future problems."

Cymrik stands, speaking sagely. "I understand that, but I do encourage you to at least make an attempt at learning and speaking Mirfakan. Electronic translators are commonplace today, but mind that such conveniences did not exist for thousands of years of diplomatic encounters such as your stay here. If I get you translators, will you promise to use them as a learning tool rather than a crutch?"

Hardly backing away. "Well we would have to learn some way. Just listening to the general public speak is not going to help us learn any faster. Osmosis is not a proven study strategy. A translator or even a translation book would be an improvement."

Cymrik raises an eyebrow, but doesn't respond. He walks off down the hall.

Andrew looked at Ceilia a bit nervous and shaken up. "Excuse me your highness but I don't think that was exactly the most polite way to handle that situation."

Her glare was turned full force on Andrew now which caused the man to cower back a little. "He talks to us like mere children but expects us to know the native language here just by dropping is in to the thick of things. That won't solve any problems, only create more."

"I understand that ma'am but we must be patient. We are in a different nation which means we should be a bit more diplomatic."

Her fists were clenched at her side but her voice remained calm and steady. "Let's just go catch up."

The two walked down the hall to where Cymrik was heading.

They catch up to him as he approaches something appearing not unlike a ticket window built into the wall. "Do you speak Standard?" he asks the attendant.

"Ea," the man replies.

Cymrik stands aside, gesturing for the two to approach the window; behind which stands a well-built human man. "You want translators, you earn them," he says in a testy voice, locking a challenging gaze on Ceilia.

Ceilia hmphs. "What is it that we are purchasing here?"

"A translator," Cymrik states simply. "Provided, of course, that you still want one."

Ceilia ignores the remark and turns to the booth. She mutters to herself "Nothing a little trial and error won't hurt."

She looks up to the man and speaks somewhat slowly but on an even tone. "I would like two," holds up two fingers, "translators please."

Andrew whispered into her long pointed ear. "I don't think he will understand."

"I know but let's see what he does understand, if anything."

"I do not speak Standard," the man replies gruffly, stating the obvious.

"Well you certainly know enough to say that."

Andrew winces at the remark but Ceilia is still thinking of a way to communicate. She starts rumaging through her pack and looks at Andrew. "See if you can find a pen and paper or something."

He complies and does likewise.

They find writing utensils, something like a pen, but erasable, and notebook paper easily enough. Each has a substantial supply. From a few meters away, Cymrik watches critically.

"What are you going to do?"

Ceilia takes a pen and paper and sets it on the desk in front of the clerk. "Something along the lines of art but at a functional level. I'm going to try and use pictures to get what we need."

She spends some time drawing two stick figures to indicate herself and Andrew while drawing another one in a booth to indicate the clerk. In between them she draw an exclamation mark above their two heads and a question mark above the clerks.

She then made a separate drawing below the previous but this time there were exclamations above both of their heads. In between the Abh and the clerk was something that looked like a speaker with waves coming out.

Ceilia was hoping he would understand what they needed.

The sturdy man watches the process with vague curiosity, and takes the picture Ceilia draws when she is finished. A smile spreads acros his face as he takes it, but it looks more an expression of amusement at the crude caricatures than understanding. "Ah, lanlohsveit fabreilaial!" He laughs heartily. "Kel zolkal cili, meis?" He borrows the abh's pen and flips the page over, drawing what appears to be a collection of data disks. He's not bad at drawing, and fairly quick. He pushes the paper back towards the pack-laden foreigner. On it are the disks, a man with an open mouth and lines indicating some sound, and a few common instruments.

Ceilia smiles warmly at the man seeing that she is understood, somethign that Cymrik has yet to see aimed his way. She indicates that she needs two translating devices for herself and Andrew as she points at the clerk's drawing.

He seems to consider this, then hands them each a data disk. They definately aren't translators. In fact, it's hard to tell not being able to read them, but they look like music recordings. The man beams appreciatively. "Wa wamkai cili astai valai tel. Estai mikvalai kasal wahl." Cymrik snickers obtrusively from the sidelines. The old geezer seems to be enjoying the spectacle.

Ceilia shoots Cymrik a glare but moves quickly back to analyze the drawing the man had given her. "He thinks we want music."

"Let me try."

Ceilia slides the paper over to Andrew. He follows suit with the drawing the two characters depicting themselves and the man in the booth. This time he draws what appear to be squiggly lines going into a device and coming out in Galactic Standard. The sqiuggly lines are translated into "Hello." Andrew hands the paper back over to the man hopefully getting their point across this time.

The man looks down at the picture, then back up at Andrew. He examines both Ceilia's and Andrew's drawings, absently retrieving the data disks as he reviews the 'conversation.' An expression of realization slowly spreads across his face. "Kahmper?" He looks from the human to the abh, shaking his head. "Ea teken..." He takes the page back, circles the device Andrew drew, and draws an arrow from it to himself. Then he scrawls a line through the arrow at an angle. "Ea teken kahmperi keib. Tel estai feea zjevz." He holds his hands out open to the sides of his head, not unlike a surrendering criminal.

Andrew looks over to Ceilia quizzically. "Does that mean he doesn't have any?"

Ceilia shrugs. "That's what the drawing seems to indicate."

Andrew looks over to Cymrik. "I think he just said that he is out or doesn't have any. Is that right?"

Cymrik smiles appreciatively. "Of course he does not have any. That is a music store." He fishes around in his briefcase and pulls out a pair of translators, holding them out in offering. "Take them then; but remember what I said. I expect you to learn passable Mirfakan in your time here. A simpler language there is not, so there is no excuse but cowardice and laziness to rely on electronics for the next two years."

Both share a look of what almost could be described as betrayal not the least of the worries was Ceilia feeling that her pride had been damaged. She had been trying to negotiate a way to get a translator from a music store clerk. They both took the translators but the Abriel was hardly pleased at the little science experiment.

Andrew, who would most likely become the easiest person to make the transition, looked at Cymrik. "What's next?"

"I would like you to go socialize," Cymrik replies. "It will help you get a feel for how to interact properly with the general population. God knows you likely will not learn from other students." Instead of elaborating on that statement, he gestures widely up and down the hall. "Both of you, find someone to talk to. Your translators should already be set."

Ceilia pointed down one end of the hall. "I'll go this way and try to find someone to talk to."

Andrew nodded. "Right. I'll go this way and try to mingle in somewhere. How do you say 'hello' in Mirfakan?"

Ceilia shrugged. "I don't know but I suppose we'll find out."

They both went walking in their separate directions to find someone to talk to.

Though it is far from crowded, there are plenty of people in the mall to choose from, the vast majority of them older membrs of their species. There are virtually no minors in the place, wth the exception of a few babies and toddlers. Some of the people are middle-aged, but most seem to be elderly. It seems reasonable to conjecture that this is because most people are at school and work this time of day. While Ceilia is left to take her pick, Andrew is approached by a xanthalian woman in attire he identifies from his crash course on Xanthalian society as law enforcement issue. She greets him with a challenging glare. "Cil! Ses cil eaestai mor gahlen?" "You! Why are you not at school?"

Andrew cringes a bit at the scolding. Great. I'm being scolded about not being in school and I don't even know how to say hello let alone explain myself.

"Umm..hello? I'm from out of town." Literally.

Ceilia looks around and decides to approach an older woman. Not knowing how to say hello quite yet, she curtly bows at the woman trying to give a greeting in another way.

"Par? Wa estai zin olinahl see."

The policewoman eyes Andrew suspiciously. "Shaym bekelal." "Identification card."

Ceilia seems to have better luck making a positive first impression. The woman, a human perhaps 100 years of age, returns the abh's gesture, responding in a tenuous, crackly voice that makes one wonder if she has some respiratory illness. "Arki wa elivai cil?" "Can I help you?"

Andrew hands over his identification card quite downcasted.

Ceilia filed through her translator while she made a mental note to get the technicians back at home to set this up. Maybe Noline would help. "Pär. Wä ziel posoĭni Merfăkan."

The xanthalian examines the card and swipes it in a reader she pulls from her pocket. She reads the data on her screen, then nods, apparently satisfied. She hands the card back. "Yilai. Cil hahstai eliv pelahl?" "Alright. Do you need any help?"

Ceilia gets a bit of an odd look from the woman at this, but it quickly gives way to a kind smile. "Wä hĕlĕn korĕli owäre sĭläl?" Ceilia's translator seems to give this a brief pause, then relays, "Should I correct your words?"

Andrew shakes his head. "wĭnĕž"

Ceilia nodded with a small smile on her face as a reddish hue graces her pale cheeks. "kalĕl."

The officer nods and moves on down the hall, entering a storefront a few doors down. Andrew is passed by an elderly thanic couple; which enters a shop stocked with a variety of small boxes, bottles, and tubes, eminating a mixture of smells that combine into a faint sickly medical odor. Then he is alone in his section of the hallway.

On the other end of the hall, Ceilia is making progress in her dialogue. Her translator is switched off for the moment, and she is translating by ear, sounding out the words as the older woman, who gave her name as Michelle, speaks measuredly. Already knowing Standard, she adapts to the thirty letters of the fully phonetic Mirfakan variant of that alphabet quickly. "Sĭl ĕsti zĭn dond, Celeä?"

Andrew sighes and decides to walk into the store behind the thanic couple since there was no one else around. Nothing else, he could find out what kind of store this was.

Ceilia sounded out the words over and over in her head as she tried to think of how to say "the Abh Empire" in Mirfakan. Instead, she came up with something a little more artistic. "wä zĭn leo plötäl leo zĭn Xanthal."

Andrew finds the store just as boring inside as out. After translating some of the labels and observing the types of products though, he can be fairly confident that he is in a drug store; though it is berefit of the usual candies and knick-knacks many such stores have, insted totally dedicated to the sale of medicines. The xanthalian clerk watches over the store from behind the desk with a bored expression, drawing invisible designs on the surface with his finger. The two than, meanwhile, occupy the back of the store, hunting through the shelves.

Ceilia gets only a blank stare in response to her answer.

Andrew was wondering if he could fulfill part of his project and act like just a normal shopper. "Pär."

Ceilia cringed. "Wä zäoäl?"

One of the than (both are brown) turns and looks at Andrew; its bone-plated face showing no expression. It chitters a response, which the Than's translator relays as "Pär," and Andrew's as "Hello." The than returns to its browsing, apparently uninterested in his intrusion.

The human woman chucles politely at Ceilia's hesitation. "Vĭzi mä. Bĕsfrä sĭläl ĕsti kĕl?"

Ceilia sighs. "Wä zĭn abh ĕmpir."

Andrew keeps looking around the shelves absently. "Nal sowakal?"

The than ignore him, and the clerk is out of earshot from the back of the store.

Michelle smiles with realization. "O, Bĕsfrä Äbăl Ĭnkäl." She bows again, more deeply this time. "Wä päri sĭl."

Andrew sighs and decides to surrender for the time being. It was a failure so far being caught by what he considered a school warden and an elderly couple that was not really talkative this day.

Ceilia bows deeply in return. "Wĭnĕž oĭfnäl wä."

The woman takes a moment to figure Ceilia's statement out, then nods. "Wä wämki sĭl mästri, 'Wĭnĕž sĭl tö rĕs tö oĭfni wä.' Ĕsti yĭlsi."

ooc: I'll have to finish the rest of this later since your NSwiki page is down for some reason.

IC:

Andrew leaves the medical store after taking one look around and then heads over where he left Cyrmik.

Is acceptable? Ceilia shrugged the last statement off and figured she better return to her "guardian" so she bowed one last time to the woman. "Wä hästi voyi."

The elderly woman gives the abh leave with a friendly nod, and continues on her way. When Andrew returns to Cymrik, the ambassador is on his knees, bent over in a reverent bow, face to the ground. He retains the pose for a few seconds, then rises to his feet, acknowledging Andrew with a nod. Ceilia arrives soon thereafter, and the old man stretches wearily. "Vekăn pĕläl?" he asks ambiguously, addressing both and neither at the same time.

Ceilia nods her head whereas Andrew mumbles, "Zrnäl."

Ceilia arched an eyebrow as she looks at Cymrik. "What were you doing?"

Cymrik shrugs. "Just praying, nothing to worry yourselves over. Speaking of which," he looks from one to the other, "Do either of you have any religious needs I should be aware of?"

"I don't have any special needs. I don't require anything I mean."

Ceilia shook her head. "No need to worry about me."

"Good," he says, then starts back towards the subway station.

Ceilia looked at Andrew with one eye narrowed. "What is it with him?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I think he is just a different kind of person that you are used to."

They both followed after Cymrik.

After a trip back to the grocery store and a stop back home to drop off their things and eat, the trio moves on again, this time to the school. By this time it is late afternoon, and all the students are gone this is to be strictly a preperatory tour. And so Andrew and Ceilia find themselves being ushered into a featureless three-story building on the corner of a residential street just about a mile from their residence.

"So this is the school we will be attending."

Ceilia just absently shrugged. "Well we won't have to worry too much about any encounters since the school appears to be deserted. I doubt we will even speak with a professor."

Cymrik replies in a similarly detached tone. "We do not have to be here if you do not wish to be. I only wanted to give you an opportunity to see the school before you had to start class. You know, find the offices and bathrooms and such."

Andrew nodded. "That would be best so we have an idea where we are going when class starts. It would make the transition a bit easier."

Cymrik gestures forward into the deserted building. "I will be waiting when you are done."

The two followed after Cymrik into the school.

The pair is greeted by a large central hallway that runs nearly the length of the sizable building before terminating at an office door. The main office is directly to their right, and stairs leading to the upper floors on their left. The main hall branches out into perpendicular corridors further on. The building is utterly deserted, which is strange considering itis unlocked. Perhaps the answer lies in the security cameras that peer inconspicously from every corner, spaced evenly down the hall. As they move, the cameras follow them; it is clear they are being watched.

Andrew looked up at the cameras as they followed his every move. "I can understand having surveillance while there is no one here and the doors are unlocked but do they also monitor students when school is in progress?"

OOC: You do realize that Cymrik is waiting outside...

ooc: ah...no I thought he went in with them. Hmmmm... I guess Andrew is talking to himself.

OOC: Okay...

IC: Andrew's voice echos down the hall in the muffled fashion one would expect from an enclosed building with mostly hard surfaces. There is, expectedly, no reply.

Ceilia smirks as Andrew realizes that he has been thinking out loud. "Perhaps we should wait for Cymrik to join us. Then maybe he can answer your question instead of the ghosts in the hall. Besides, we really have no idea where we are going."

Andrew nodded sheepishly.

Outisde, Cymrik waits patiently on a bench near the front door, enjoying the evening.

Ceillia sighed. "Wait here Andrew."

The Abriel walked back down the hall and poked her head out the door and found Cymrik sitting on the bench. "Are you going to show us the school or should we find our own way?"

Cymrik waves tiredly, calling back, "You are a big girl; I am sure you can manage."

Ceillia grumbles to herself. "Doko"

She returns to Andrew. "It seems our guide is useless. We are on our own."

Andrew shruggs. "Well how about we take a look around upstairs and work our way back down."

"Whatever. I doubt what we do will really matter."

The duo proceeds to head back down the hall and up the stairs.

They find little of interest. The building closely resembles a school. Imagine that. To be fair, it is clean and modern, and apparently well-supplied.

"Well so now we know where everything is. Hope you can find the bathroom easy enough."

Andrew nodded and they headed back out the door.

They find Cymrik asleep outside, a foolish smile on his face as sits hunched over on the bench, drooling slightly. Other than a few pedestrians and a policeman, the block is deserted as the sun peers out from behind the line of buildings and evening slowly moves towards night.

They both stand there staring at Cymrik with his mouth open. Ceillia smirks and walks over to stand behind him. She leans down close to his ear and whispers in a smooth soothing voice. "Oooohhh Cyrmirk. It's time to wakey wakey."

The man opens his eyes and looks at Ceilia. "Excuse me. I usually am not on my feet so much in one day. It seems to have somewhat exhausted my energy." He stands, brushing off his uniform, and wipes the dribble from the corner of his mouth with the side of his hand. "Are you ready to go home?"

"Well if this was our last stop for the day, I'd say then that we are ready to return home."

The next day dawns wet and dreary, rain pouring down steadily on the midsized city. Andrew and Ceilia are treated to a well-rounded breakfast, prepared by the deceptively-talented Cymrik, and checked over a final time by their guardian as they don their outerwear at the door. "Remember, school starts at seven; so get there early and pick up your schedules from the office. Ceilia, try not to get hurt; you are here on the good faith of the Empire, and waiver or no I would prefer not to explain to a bunch of angry Abriels that we are sending you home in a box."

Ceilia looked puzzle. "Why would I get hurt?"

Cymrik cocks his head to the side. "My dear young lady, the Republic may have a low crime rate, but there is crime, and accidents do happen. All I am asking is that you be cautious. You too, Andrew," he adds, almost as an afterthought. With that, he retreats back into the living room.

"What do you think he meant by that?"

Ceilia shrugged. "I suppose it means that we be careful and try not to start anything that would be undiplomatic."

"Oh...well that shouldn't be too hard."

"Right. You got your translator?"

Andrew nodded.

"Well we better get to our first day of school then." The two proceeded down the street and began walking towards the subway station to get to school.

The rain weighs heavily upon the foreigners as large drops of water batter the streets and rooftops. It is a relief when they reach the entrance to the subway and are able to escape the storm. The pair joins a good number of others on the neighborhood station platform, all waiting to board trains going into town. Looking at a giant map of subway routes attached to the wall they see it is possible to get closer to the school via subway, but the route is less than direct and walking the two miles would probably be just as fast. With the rain though, the subway is a tempting option.

As if on queue, a train glides into the station; opening its doors to admit passengers. However, personal space does not exist in the train. It is literally packed with people, and only a few of the passengers on the platform manage to squeeze in before the doors shut and the train rolls on. The digital display above the platform shows less than five minutes until the next train, but if it is as crowded Andrew and Ceilia could be waiting a while.

Ceilia sighs. "We'll be here forever and will be late for our first day of class."

Andrew happened to be wearing a coat that day which would be convenient now. He took his arms out of the sleeves and lifted the coat over the Abriel's head. Ceilia looked up with an expression somewhere between shock and gratitude. Andrew nodded with a small smile on his face. "Well I can't guarantee that your feet won't get wet but at least I can keep your hair from getting messed up."

Ceilia manages a small smile of gratitude and they proceed to climb back up the subway out into the dismal weather and walk to school.

The walk is dreary and boring for the most part, though they do meet up with another group of students, two xanthalians and a bulky, almost rock-like humanoid creature, about two blocks from the building. The xanthalian students are equipped with waterproof attire. The large tough-skinned boy (it looks like a boy, anyway) moves his umbrella to shield Andrew from the rain, though it has limited effect and doesn't change the fact that he's already soaking wet. The xanthalian students, both females, chatter together as they lead the group, paying no mind to the abh and human.

Andrew looked up at the tough-skinned boy and smiled his gratitude. "Wĭnĕž." Yeah he was still wet and miserable, but it was the thought that counted afterall. For that, Andrew was grateful.

The large boy remains silent and expressionless, though with his complexion it seems questionable whether he's even capable of showing facial expression. A few minutes later they're inside the building, but now it is like a different place. The halls are filled with the pulsating noise of a crowd of students and teachers making their way between lockers, offices, and rooms and having conversations as people inevitibly will.

With so much to divert one's attention, it is easy to forget about the cameras now scrolling busily about, recording the activity for some unknown viewer. The xanthalian girls break away and head down the hall, as does the rock-boy. The main office is just to the left of the entryway where Andrew and Ceilia now stand.

Andrew had already removed his coat for Ceilia's protection and draped it over his arm. He was wearing black slacks and a simple navy blue collared shirt.

Ceilia wore her blue hair down which reached towards the middle of her back. It was an attempt to hide her ears which might draw attention that she did not want. She wore a simple dark blue dress that went down to her ankles and fit the figure of a woman quite well. The Abriel wasn't wearing her tiarra today as she figured it would only make her stand out more which left her froch in the middle of her forhead bare.

Andrew and Ceilia turn to the left to head for the main office to collect their schedules.

They are directed to the attendance office, and are issued their schedules. The woman there points out the hours and room numbers in broken Standard, avoiding the class names written in Mirfakan. Just as they are finishing up, two boys walk in side by side; a human and an elf. The human is tall and lanky, with scruffy black hair and a soaked t-shirt and jeans. He looks friendly enough, but a tad dirty. The elf wears a much more dignified expresion, young, looking about eight in human years, and a bit beefy for his height, a rarity among his lean species. His face is quite beautiful though, and the well-dressed student takes quick notice of Ceilia's ears. He goes quickly to stand by her, while the human boy shrugs and goes to Andrew. The attendance secretary beams at their arrival. "These is people for you. You be with them at school. They help you."

The elf grins, amusement and a hint of disdain mixing in his features as he translates. "What she is trying to say is that we have been asked to assist you in adjusting to the school and overcoming the language barrier." He focuses his attention on Ceilia. "You, I take it, are Abriel Nei Ramaral Ceilia." He pronounces it perfectly, rolling the soft vowels of the abh language off his tongue. His body bends in a small bow more of acknowledgement than respect. "I am Caranthir Oronar. You and I are assigned to the same classes, so I will be able to keep an eye on you." Perhaps it's just her imagination, but Ceilia detects a note of condescention in that last statement.

Andrew's human partner nods in agreement. "Ditto. We're like the champions of the English, er, Galactic Standard classes here, so we can help you out with... well, whatever. Call me Mark." He grabs Andrew's hand, shaking it heartily. After a few seconds of this, he points to Caranthir. "That guy knows Abh, too, I think. Total nerd. Like there's any reason for a person to know that in this part of the galaxy." He recieves a glare from the elf, but doesn't seem to notice. "Anyway, let's go. You're not gonna make me late." He grabs Andrew's hand again and pulls him out of the room.

Caranthir sighs, looking up at Ceilia, who dwarfs his childlike frame. "I do not really speak Abh. I have done very limited study of the culture, that is all. Those pointed ears are unique to the Abriel clan, correct?" He studies her like a specimin in a lab, eyes drifting up and down, taking in every feature and curve.

Andrew let's out a small yelp as he is dragged out the door leaving the two alone in the officer with the other secretaries. Ceilia was less than pleased with her escort though and is hardly amused with the fact that she is being steadied up and down. She clears her throat to draw his attention back to her face. "Yes, they belong only to the Abriel clan."

Ceilia then proceeded to move towards the door. "Now if you are done inspecting me we should be on our way to class. I don't want to be late and I don't want to be the cause of your tardiness either."

She can't help but feel that this could be a very long stay away from home if more of the students are like her escort. Not to mention this boy would be with her every step of the way.

"Quite," he assents, looking less embarassed than he probably should. "Perhaps I should lead then."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

A healthy few minutes before the start of class, Andrew and Mark arrive at their destination. Andrew, released of Mark's grip, is left free to look around as his guide busies himself securing a station for them. The room seems to be a science lab of some sort; with two-person workstations jutting from the wall, topped by a complicated setup of equipment and underscored with rows of drawers having unknown contents. There are windows, but the shades are drawn closed, leaving the flourescent bulbs travelling along the ceiling at the front and above each workstation to illuminate the proceedings. An older than sits before the class, chittering quietly to itself as it works on the slim, modern computer sitting there. Actually, the whole place is quite modern, clean, and well-ordered. It is easy to imagine that education is a government priority in Xanthal just from the look of the place.

"Hey, come on!" Andrew is jolted from his observations as Mark calls him from a station near the back of the room. The whole class seems to respond, each student drifting dutifully to his, her, or its seat. One minute until the session begins. The teacher activates a television screen at the front, which displays a bunch of text supposedly pertaining to the day's activity, though it is indecipherable to the foreigner.

Andrew quickly made his way to the station next to Mark. He files through a translator but has no luck making much sense of what is displayed before him. The poor young man can only hope that he will be able to understand what the instructor will say.

Mark gives Andrew a friendly slap on the back, a bit too hard. "Hey, no worries! I've got you covered, remember?" He proceeds to rattle off the text on the board in Standard; some complicated set of instructions for the day's lab. Precisely on the hour a sharp tone sounds. Every student in the room rises and stands straight, eyes upon the small Xanthalian flag mounted on the wall at the front of the room. Led by the public address system, they launch into a short recitation that Andrew's translator relays as "I welcome the education I recieve today, and thank my teachers for imparting their knowledge to me. I learn that I may give, and recieve again in turn. My actions impact everyone, so I will act responsibly. This is my pledge; I accept my privilege." Then, the class is seated.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The final bell heralds a rush of noise and activity that shocks both Andrew and Ceilia, who feel they are witnessing an entirely different group of people than the mell-mannered, insightful, diligent students that have sat through ten hours of school (and lunch period!) without so much as a passed note. Andrew's escort leaves him immediately, with a quick wave and a cheery "Take care! See ya tomorrow!" Oronar stays with Ceilia as they go to meet Andrew by the front door, looking thoughtful as he trots along closely behind her, lest he lose the abh in the sea of people.

Andrew is waiting outside in the fresh air just to get out of the crowded halls and noise of those going to and fro.

Ceilia looks back to see that her "assistant" is trailing close behind. She finally makes it through the sea of students to meet up with Andrew. "Hello Andrew. How was your first day?"

The boy just shrugs. "Different."

"Of course it is. You are in a different nation with different ideals then our own."

She turns around to Oronar, though any mirth in her voice is now gone. "Thank you for your assistance, Oronar. I will see you tomorrow."

The elf boy nods. "I look forward to it." He retreats back into the building, quickly lost to view in the crowd. Andrew and Ceilia are left to hold their own ground as the rush of departing students flows past them.

Ceilia and Andrew manage to fight through the crowd. The idea of taking the subway home briefly crosses their mind and I do mean briefly. After the fiasco this morning, all hopes of getting on and off in an orderly fashion are soon abandoned. They opt to walk for home much to the dismay of Ceilia who is not use to this much gravity. Nevertheless, she manages to hide her fatigue well and puts up with the two mile hike back home.

They do find some solace in the weather. Though it is still dreary and a bit cool, the rain has stopped. The walk home is uneventful, and they arrive to find Cymrik gone. It is a perfect opportunity to get out in the neighborhood and explore or simply lounge around. Surprisingly, despite a day of classes that seem advanced even to the accomplished imperial students, their homework load is light. The universal message seems to be "If you can do it, good for you. If not, figure it out. All else fails, ask the instructor." The style of learning at their public school is very self-driven, and depends heavily on the individual motivation of the students. It's hard to believe that such a tactic is universally effective, which leaves one to wonder what becomes of the slackers. Obviously they don't all fall through, the statistics speak to that. Xanthal consistently ranks in the top five percent of best educated populations across the galaxy.

Ceilia and Andrew plop their school supplies on their beds and fall down with a sigh of relief. Ceilia was just glad to be sitting down and Andrew was glad for the peace and quiet.

"What do we do now since Cymrik is not here?" Andrew shouted across the hall.

"Let's catch a breather first then go out and look around at the neighborhood. Maybe we'll find someone from school living back here. How much homework do you have?"

"Not much."

The two Abh lay in bed for a while before grabbing their coats to head out the door and view the neighborhood.

They come to a public library just a few blocks from the house, a two-story brick building stocked more with computers than books. Nearly all the materials are electronicly stored. Across the street is a long, single-story establishment with engraved text above the entrance that they are able to translate as 'Church of Xanthal.'

Ceilia and Andrew come out of the library and look at the church. Andrew was somewhat disappointed at the lack of hard text. "I can understand why books have been moved to electronics but there is still nothing like feeling the pages in your hand and your eyes actually scanning over the pages. Don't you agree?"

Ceilia shrugged. "Having everything loaded into a computer or electronic device, it is cheaper or more efficient. It allows everyone to view the same material at once."

"Yeah but still..."

Seeing the disappointment in his face, Ceilia tries to lift his spirits a bit. "Have you ever been to the Capitol Andrew?"

The distraught young man shakes his head.

"The library in Lakfakalae has the largest selection of books in the Empire and perhaps the galaxy if this is becoming more and more the trend of all people. The shelves stand all the way to the ceiling and extend completely down the halls in every direction. The only possible library that could rival Lakfakalae's would be that in D'Hara. Sadly, I have never seen D'Hara though I have heard rumors. Perhaps when you return home Andrew, you can visit the capitol for a while and browse through our library."

Andrew managed to lift his head a little with a small grin on his face. "Sounds like a deal. Let's head to the church and see what's in there."

They open the doors and immediately enter a large chapel. A sermon seems to be in progress, as a limited audience of perhaps two dozen watches a robed woman speaking to the congregation. From the sparse decoration on the stage, it seems to be a Yevonite ceremony.

Andrew whispered into Ceilia's pointed ear. "What kind of religion do you think this is?"

Ceilia shrugged. "I don't know. Let's sit down and listen for a little a bit."

The two take a seat in a pue in the back.

The preacher smiles and gives a small nod to the newcomers as she continues. "Comrades, proof of Yevon's existence is found not only in the grand summonings and fayth, but in the wonder of the multiverse itself; infinite chaotic parts merged into a harmonious whole. Yevon knows that the cycle of life and death is inescapable, and as his disciples it is our duty to pursue the same deference and order by which Spira was ruled. It befits us to be humble, and to bow to our superiors. It is our place to accept without question the will of the Grand Maester and of our grand Xanthalian government. Without obedience there is no system. In absence of system, we all perish. Praise Yevon, and unto him our souls bestow." She executes a strange bow, stretching her arms out to her sides, then bringing them before her in a single, fluid motion as if holding a sphere in her hands. Her colorful pastel-dyed robes flutter with the movement, and the congregation rises to return the gesture.

The people begin to file out, a few looking curiously at Andrew and Ceilia as they pass. The Priestess quits the stage and makes her way up the isle to the new arrivals, her gown seeming to accentuate each movement, enhancing its beauty and the natural beauty of its wearer. As she comes close, they see that she is not a human as she at first appeared, but something else; close to a human, but with subtle ridges almost like a scale pattern covering her skin and an ever-so-slightly elongated face. It is strange, but not as ugly as one might think from the description. She bows to them in the same manner she had earlier, meeting the eyes of neither. Then she straightens, looking on between them as if to give both equal attention. "It is good to see some new faces," she says sweetly, then interjects upon hearing the translators, "Oh! You are foreigners! Are you Yevonites, or simply curious?"

Andrew and Ceilia both give a deep bow though not in the manner that Yevonite priestess had. Andrew cleared his throat as they straightened. "Zĕke ĭsti äskäl."

The priestess spreads her arms. "Ärki wä el pel pĕläl tö sĭl?"

Andrew and Ceilia share a confused look not quite understanding what the priestess was saying. It was Ceilia's turn to answer and try to get around the question that had been asked. "Zĕke tĕkĕn eä olĭnsior Yevon preäl."

The priestess laughs richly, apparently finding the comment amusing. "Ĕsti käs länyö eäplötäl ärki olĭnsi Yĕvn."

If Andrew and Ceilia were capable of telepathy, they would have told each other that they needed to study this language in greater detail. Unfortunatly Ceilia's extra sensory organ only went so far. However, the two were able to come up with the jist of what the priestess was saying.

Ceilia decided to move on to other topics by introducing herself. She bows curtiously. "Zĕke ĕsti bĕsfrä Äbăl Ĭnkäl. Wä ĕsti Abriel Nei Ramaral Ceilia."

Andrew bowed when Ceilia motioned at him. "Wä ĕsti Andrew Reedie."

The priestess covers her mouth, stifling a giggle. "Forgive me," she says, recovering her composure, "But your Mirfakan is really quite atrocious. Would you mind speaking in Standard?"

A small hint of red graced Ceilia's pale cheeks. "I am sorry. We have only just arrived here and we are trying to learn your language. I must say it is not an easy one to learn in two days." She ends with a small smile.

Mirfakan is simple, but it is still a language. Between the vocabulary itself and how to put everything together, there is much to learn." She takes a seat on the bench next to them. "Are you staying in the country long?"

The two Abh remain standing. Andrew speaks up this time. "We are attending school here so yes, we will be here for some time."

"I see. Are you living in this neighborhood?"

Ceilia nodded. "Yes we are. We are staying with a man named Cymrik if the name means anything to you."

The woman shakes her head. "No. Should it?"

Ceilia shook her head. "No, I suppose not. I imagine he is only a bureaucrat or something so he may not be from this area."

Andrew had finished looking around the church. "What exactly is the religion of Yevon about? I've read about but never knew there was a church in existance."

"Oh, I'm sorry;" the priestess remembers herself and stands, bowing apologetically. "My name is Aleidia Sharovi. I am the priestess of the Church of Yevon at this location. The story of Yevon originates in the lost lands of Spira; where he incarnated himself as a great demon, laying waste to the world in search of a hero that could achieve the power needed to destroy his earthly self. Though it took many centuries, a group finally defeated the incarnation and banished Yevon's spirit from this universe. After that ordeal, understandably, Yevonism as a religion virtually disappeared. However, Yevon's power surfaced again about half a milennium ago in a nation governed by those who were able to harness the power of Yevon and command the supernatural elementals called Aeons through the Fayth, human martyrs enshrined in stone embued with the power of their spirits." She pauses. "Are you following me so far?"

Both nodded dumbly. "I believe so for the most part. It sounds like something out of a fantasy."

"Such forces are a proven reality in certain parts of the multiverse. Gods and magic are as real, powerful, and important in some nations as the governments of nations like Xanthal, or your Empire." She pauses briefly to think on how to proceed. "There is much more to Yevonism than what I am telling you, but I presume you have better things to do than listen to me read our holy texts for the next few days. What I have just told you is the basis for our religion. The rest of the story is fairly inconsequential to your original question. Basically, the Yevonist religion is organized into a hierarchy, with a Grand Maester at the top. If you are familiar with Catholicism, that is a good comparison to our church's structure.

"The teachings of Yevon guide our everyday lives by helping us to recognize the universality of decay and the necessity of periodic destruction to lay the slate bare for a new beginning. Yevon also teaches us that authority, and the faithful following thereof, is essential to civilized life. Thus, as followers of Yevon, we are obligated to follow the orders of our superiors and constantly work for renewal in our own lives and in society. We pray for swift justice in this life and reward on the farplane after death. Though there are no Fayth in Xanthal, we also pray for the safety of the stone martyrs and the summoners who command them, acting in the name of Yevon to bring an end to the weak elements of our universe." Aleidia closes her eyes, taking a deep, cleansing breath, then looks upon Andrew kindly. "Does that help to answer your question?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of Andrew's mouth. "Yes it does. Thank you."

Ceilia stood there for a moment. "An interesting religion. How popular is it among the people of Xanthal?"

"Not very," the priestess replies. "It has been a while since I checked the statistic, but I believe about 0.01% of Xanthal's total population is Yevonist. That would make our number about..." she takes a few seconds running the numbers in her head, "Five hundred thousand? Something like that. Most Xanthalian Yevonites are from the Bulshin continent, here on Mirfak. My congregation is the only one on this island. This is a public building, so we time-share it with all the other religious groups that need worship space in this part of the city. That's why the sign outside says 'Church of Xanthal.' There's a schedule by the door with all the demographics this building services. Speaking of which," she notes, moving out of the row and towards the stage, "I need to get our little trinkets out of the way for the Animist service tomorrow. If you want to talk more, how about giving me a hand?"

Ceilia and Andrew follow the priestess towards the stage to help her remove some of the trinkets. As a traditional Abh, Ceilia had little faith in a religion though she had studied them as a way of increasing her knowledge about others. This was an interesting chance to instead read about, to actually garner knowledge from an actual priestess.

"You mentioned something about Fayeths. Have you ever seen someone summon a Fayeth?"

"You mean Aeon," she says, removing a heavy-looking crest from a pedestal and bringing it to a supply closet behind the stage. "Fayth merely provide the channel for a summoner to bring forth the Aeons into this universe. I have seen a summoning once, as a child. I have seen many more sendings, as the latter ritual is actually practiced in Xanthal."

"What did these Aeons look like?" Ceilia picked up an artifact and followed the priestess.

"Different Aeons have different attributes and characteristics," Aleidia continues her work as she speaks. "The one that I saw was something like a giant bird of prey."

"Stunning." Ceilai continued to move about and pick up other artifacts while working beside the priestess.

"I actually knew one of our Admirals that had become somewhat fascinated with your religion. Unfortunatly with his status, he rarely had time to talk and was always quite occupied with himself and these memoirs he was doing."

"There is a lot of information available. If you are truly interested, you should do some research. If it strikes a chord with you, you can even join the church."

Ceilia looks hesitant as she picks up another piece trinket. "I think I will just research it myself. Where would you like this one?"

Aleidia shrugs. "Just toss it in there somewhere next to the other stuff. As long as I keep all the things together I'll be able to find them and set up for next week." She closes the door to the closet as Ceilia emerges. "Well then, that's that. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Ceilia shook her head. "I believe you have answered all of our questions. I think for your time and patience." Both Andrew and Ceilia bowed to show their gratitude.

The priestess returns the gesture; a straight, graceful bow. "I hope that your academic efforts meet with success. If you ever feel the need for guidance, the church is here for you. Maybe by the time I see you next we can have a conversation in Mirfakan, too."

Ceilia and Andrew both smiled. "Yes that would be nice. Perhaps after enough time has passed, we will become more fluent in Mirfakan."

And with that, they both head back out to the streets and the neighberhood.

It is getting late now, and again darkness has begun to overtake the island and city. The streets are dotted with people returning home for the day, or out on evening errands. The neighborhood is permeated with the murmer of animals, engines, and voices.

The two Abh had quite enjoyed their time out exploring the neighborhood and meeting new people and discovery certain novelties of this different nation. The church of Yevon was mostly dominanting their talk. Andrew couldn't help but feel a little awkward about the situation. A lander talking with a royal princess was something very different for the young man. He did feel a sense of duty that he should watch out for her Highness which made things even more awkward for him who was merely an aspiring musician. Yet, here he was escorting the royal princess around a new nation in a nation they knew little about personally. How odd it was to know that in one more year, Ceilia would stop visibly aging and her appearance would remain constant for about 250 years.

Ceilia could tell that Andrew was obviously feeling out of place. He wasn't even nobility and here he was escorting the princess around and sometimes calling her by her first name. It was all very different. Even more different was attending school here. It was unlike the academy. There everyone knew who she was just by looking at her and paid proper respect no matter how unwanted it was, but here things were different. Here they either didn't know who she was or did but just didn't care. That was cerainly a new aspect of life. Still, there was one person that actually knew who she was and tried to pay respect while maintaining a friendly manner.

"Come on Andrew. I am sure Cymrik is home by now and he may be worried about us though I doubt it."

"It is getting late. I believe that would be best."

The duo made their way back to their temporary home.

When they arrive, their liason is asleep on the couch and two plates of fish and salad are laid out on the table for them. The food is just above room temperature, indicating that it has been sitting out for quite some time. The ambassador must have arrived shortly after they left. Cymrik awakens at the sound of their entrance and composes himself quickly, turning off the television, which has been tuned to a steamy movie. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming back," he calls, turning to look at Ceilia. "Out with some other students, were you?"

Andrew has a small smirk on his face from getting a quick glimpse of the television screen. Ceilia notices it also but in typical Abriel fashion, displays now emotion or displeasure.

"Actually we were not. Andrew and I were merely investigating the neighborhood. We even managed to pay a visit to the Church of Xanthal and caught a glimpse of a Yevonite session. Quite interesting."

Cymrik grimaces. "Yevonites, huh? I hope they didn't try to put any funny ideas in your young heads. Those people are fanatics." He indicates the food on the table. "I made you some fish. You will probably want to heat it up now, though."

Ceilia and Andrew shook their heads. "The priestess was a kind woman and very helpful in answering our questions about the religion."

Ceilia piped in. "She didn't seem so fanatic to me though we only met her for a little while."

Andrew picked up Ceilia's dinner and moved to heat it up as he looked around at the kitchen. . .

"Hmph," Cymrik replies, then rises with a grunt from the couch and retreats to his bedroom. The house's kitchen is clean and sleek, but the actual appliances in it would be identifiable by an Earth man from a millenium past. A stove and burner, with a microwave mounted above it, a toaster on the counter and a dishwasher underneath; a refrigerator/freezer and sink and drainer.... It's all very traditional, and besides a few modern improvements to the design and function they all do basically the same thing one would expect them to. The Socialist Republic has apparently not made great leaps and bounds in the area of domestic appliances.

"I don't think he likes the Yevonites."

Ceilia smirked. "I believe he does not. I wonder how upset I could make him if I joined the church and became a Yevonite."

Andrew kept his comments about Abriels to himself and placed both dinners in the microwave to warm them back up. "I don't see any utensils that you would find at Lakfakalae but there are forks and such."

The Abriel is brought back from her contemplations of making ones life miserable. "That's fine."

The bell chimed and they both sat down at the table to eat their dinner.

A few days into their classes, Andrew and Ceilia are beginning to become accustomed to their partners' presence. Caranthir, despite an annoyingly superior manner that clashes frequently with Ceilia's own pride, begins to develop a healthy friendship with the abh girl as he guides her through her period of adjustment and she teaches him about the Empire and the Abh language, information he eagerly snaps up with the vigor one would expect from a boy of his... well, the age he looks like. With elves it's hard to really tell.

Mild-mannered Andrew, meanwhile, is challenged daily by the annoying banter of Mark, who translates everything for him, written and spoken, that his electronic translator can't with a self-conviction that would be intolerable if it weren't for his nearly-perpetual good humor. His use of contractions and slang sets him apart from nearly every other student, who tends to either speak grammatically perfect Standard or just enough to work through his or her (or its) daily class on the subject; the majority falling in the latter category. Mark informs Andrew pridefully on the second day that he learned to speak Standard on Earth, and transferred to school in the Socialist Republic just one year ago (though he notes, predictably, that it's three years by the Earth calendar).

With the conclusion of the week's classes, eight straight days of them, and the start of the measly two-day weekend, the four students agree with some debate to eat out together. On Mark's recommendation, they ride the subway towards downtown and end up at a restaurant marked proudly with the golden arches that anyone from almost any country open to commercial trade can recognize: McDonalds. The group stands looking up at the sign, mounted above the building's main door with the text Mĭkdänldz conspiciously written beside the more familiar English spelling. Thankfully, Mark doesn't bother translating. It is a large place, two stories; and seems to be quite busy judging from the view through the windows and the frequent passage of customers in and out. The establishment actually seems quite clean; even classy, with waiters and table menus. Clearly, this is a different Mickey-Dees experience than the more-prevalent fast food takeout restaurant.

Caranthir does not look pleased as he addresses Mark, but the only time he ever seems to look genuinely pleased is when he learns something new. Classic nerd, though his demeanor suggests anything but. "You told us that we were going to a restaurant with 'real food.'"

Mark is unfazed by the cool response to his culinary selection. "This is real food. For crying out loud, you eat salad every damn day, elf-boy. Put some meat on those bones!" He jabs his classmate's chubby midriff playfully, but Caranthir just glares. "Oh, come on. Andrew, back me up here. You like McDonalds, right?"

Andrew and Ceilia are clearly confused and clueless. Andrew regains a bit of composure to answer Caranthir. "What's a McDonalds?"

A food chain such as this is unheard of within the Empire. The Abh style almost always leans towards class no matter how long the food takes to prepare. There are "fast food" areas but they tend to be in space ports or come in the form of replicators for a quick bite for Star Force soldiers. This was something out of the ordinary especially for Ceilia.

Ceilia is clearly overdressed along with Andrew but it is easier to overlook a man wearing slacks, black shoes, and a suede shirt. Ceilia however is wearing her gold decorative tiara with green emeralds hanging from the back and a large one that was nicknamed a "Cat's eye" set in the middle. Not the least of her attire was her dress. Perhaps it was just Abh fashion to be always presentable and proper. Her white dress with a "V" cut in the front and ruffled cuffs clearly would set her apart. She looked over to Mark. "What is this place?"

"McDonalds," Caranthir replies. Mark closes his mouth, surrendering the exchange to the elven child. "It is a nice enough place, but the food is horrendously unhealthy. Everything they serve is doused in oil, then fried. As well, they really do not have a wide selection."

"Now now," Mark cuts in. "That's not really fair. I'll admit their menu's a bit short and the food isn't exactly diet material, but it's good stuff." He looks from Andrew to Ceilia, registering their blank expressions. "Come on, you've never heard of McDonalds? You poor, deprived souls. And here we've been led to believe that the Empire is civilized." He claps an arm about Andrew's shoulders, leading him forward. "Let's go; you'll love it. I'll even pay for you." He trots through the doors, dragging Andrew along with him. Caranthir, with a deep sigh, follows.

Ceilia resigns herself to following the rest of them. There is nothing left to do in any case. She walks through the doors to catch up with the rest of the crowd. Perhaps this was a restuarant the Empire should add to it if this is so civilized... She was open to suggestions. Just because it didn't exist in the Empire didn't mean it wasn't proper.

Inside there is some pop music playing at low level over the speakers mounted in the ceiling. The place has a wooden floor and walls painted a warm red, with good lighting throughout. They are met at the front door by the host, a large human man who leads them to their table on the second floor, where they are seated in a booth across the aisle from another group of students from their grade. The host indicates the rotatable screen mounted in the center of their table, which has on display all the menu items available; mostly consisting of variations on the hamburger theme. The man invites them to relax and order some drinks, then heads back downstairs.

Unlike most McDonalds', the whole place is like a normal sit-down restaurant; a rather nice one actually, though certainly not classy. Everything is kept clean, and the patrons are modest and quiet. Mark, sitting next to Andrew across from the others, smiles cheekily, turning the screen to face Caranthir and Ceilia. "Come on, take your pick. You can't go wrong, my friends."

"Shut up," Caranthir replies sourly. "I should think I am fat enough without downing a pot of fat and oil. Next time we go out, you are forbidden from choosing our destination." He punches in an order for a salad and a glass of milk.

Ceilia likewise pushes the screen for a salad and a bottle of water. The hamburger theme didn't really interest her.

Andrew however was undecided. No one better to ask than the one that brought them here. "Umm Mark, what do you recommend?"

"Skinny boy like you?" he replies. "Big Mac. Keep it down and there's hope for you yet." He swings the screen around and orders a double quarter ponder with cheese, large fries, and a Diet Coke. Caranthir doesn't comment, though he looks disgusted at the proposition.

"I guess I will trust your judgement."

He looks at the screen and locates the Big Mac and orders it along with a bottle of water.

With their food presumably on its way, Mark leaves Andrew alone momentarily to solicit Ceilia. "Hey, you're awfully quiet. Strike up some conversation, will you? Humans are social creatures you know."

"My apologies, it's just that I've never been to a restaurant like this before."

Not exactly a lie but then again these type of places are unheard of in the empire. How was a princess that could never really be open with anyone before actually supposed to take part in a conversation.

"Doesn't mean you can't talk," Mark says, refusing to let up. "What about your family? Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Ceilia shrugged. "I am an only child and I live with my father in one of the empire's orbiting cities."

That city happened to be the Robasch kingdom only the third largest next to Lakfakallae and the Cluyve royal family's.

"What, you mean like a space station?" Mark queries.

"The term hardly does it justice," Caranthir replies. "The abh species is adapted for life in space, so nearly their entire population resides in massive spaceborne cities. Their habitable planets are populated mostly by humans, which are placed under the rule of Abh law and presided over by a duke or duchess inducted into the Abh nobility."

"So they're puppet protectorates?"

"I suppose you could say that. The Abh do not generally excercise a great deal of authority on surface worlds. To them, space itself is the biggest prize. Planets are just part of their claim. That mentality has meant centuries of rapid expansion, which has been hardly seen in this galaxy. The real Empire, last time contact was made, spanned several galaxies and claimed hundreds of trillions of residents. The Empire as we know it today is just a tiny faction of outcasts." The elf looks to Ceilia. "No offense intended."

"No offense taken. You are actually not far off. Many planets elect their own rulers who are then become Abh nobility however I would not quite label them as puppet protectorates. We do not like to get involved with ground affairs and therefore, the rulers of such planets have free reign to govern their planets as they see fit as long as it is productive and the local citizens are not harmed.

What is lost by the citizens of the planets is the right to their own ships. All craft are owned by his majesty and we regulate all trade routes by any merchants. With that being said, a citizen can rent a ship for their own endeavors with the approval of the emperor.

And with regards to our history, many feel that the founding ruler was justified in his actions."

"I know a little about the Empire myself," Mark adds, "And I don't think the Emperor can qualify himself as much more than a benevolent dictator. The Abh don't ask if they can have a world, and when they do they're ready to take it by force anyway. Non-abh can't even rise to the throne."

Caranthir looks alarmed, partly because Mark has broken his cheery demeanor and partly because he knows very well how volatile the situation could become with an Abriel at the table. He raises a hand, drawing himself up to his full sitting height, which is still pretty short. "Please, Mister Woessner; you are playing a grudge that is almost four hundred years old. The players in that drama are long dead or forgotten. Besides, the Empire here is not even associated with the Humankind Empire the People's Republic knew. They are less aggressive and, I daresay, more open to positive political change."

Mark is distracted by the arriving food, at the sight of which he brightens considerably. "Ah, well. It's not a big deal. Just got a bit worked up is all." As the plate is set in front of him, he begins devouring his french fries at a shocking rate, even before the others have been served.

Caranthir holds off on eating as the waiter departs, turning back to Ceilia. "My apologies. Mark can be... erratic at times. I am certain your friend can testify to that." He eyes Andrew, who is once again at the mercy of his escort's friendly harassment as Mark, having already finished his fries, earnestly instructs him on the proper way to eat a McDonalds hamburger. "Are you familiar with the disappearance of the Aellis Star System?" the elf inquires of the abh.

Ceilia is currently staring at repulse, though it's not visible, at the eating display that he had just preformed. She is quickly brought back from her thoughts though when she hears Caranthir's question.

"No. Should I have?"

"I wouldn't say so, though with you being an abh the subject might come up. It could not hurt for you to know." Caranthir takes a short drink, clears his throat, and begins, his delicate elven voice drawing Ceilia into his tale.

"The Aellis star system was the capital of the Xanthalian state for one hundred fifty years; that's Xanthalian years, so about four hundred standard time. In 196 Xanthal, back then it was the People's Republic, opened relations with the Humankind Empire; the big one, from whence your ancestors came. They had just discovered the Aellis Sord, and Xanthal became their diplomatic link to the rest of the galaxy. At the time Xanthal was unaware of your faction's existence or I am certain these events would be a part of your own history as well.

"Anyway, the Republic enjoyed two years of friendship with the Empire before their alliance was set to paper in a mutual defense pact. Looking back it should have been obvious to the Triumvirate that something was amiss. After all, why would an intergalactic empire want protection from a three-system republic already in the process of disarming? History tells us that the Republic's leaders, facing a stagnant economy and a government choked with corruption and bureaucracy, were willing to grasp at the Abh offer as a lifeline to bring their own state back from the brink of collapse. However, the motive of the Empress was aquisition all along. A few years after the pact was signed, with Xanthalian defenses all but dismantled, the Labule siezed control of the Xanthalian government in a quick, clean coup. However, they quickly faced a peril that forced even the great Empire to consider its mortality.

"Seeing the efficiency of the Humankind Empire's war machine, many nations with power rivalling that of Old Xanthal at its height came forward to face the invaders at their new foothold. The Empress was not willing to release her grasp on the cornucopia of technology she had claimed, yet she knew her people were not prepared for a war that could potentially pit their might against an entire galaxy. Her salvation came, ironically, from the very people she had conquered. The Aellis System was not just the Xanthalian capital, but home to its greatest technological achievement: the Infinity Gateway. This massive stargate made travel through space and time, across dimensions and beyond reality as we know it as simple as crossing a threshold. In a brilliant flash of ingenuity, technicians were able to reverse the gateway's field in the critical hour and transport the entire star system. Aellis was literally ripped from known space. Whether it went to Abh space, another dimension, or even if it still exists at all is a mystery to this day.

"After Aellis disappeared, what remained of the Republic crumbled. Mirfak decended into feudalistic anarchy, and Than became embroiled in a civil war that would last over a century. This chaos endured for over three hundred years standard time before order was restored and, eventually, Mirfak, Than, and Trasnia reunited to form a new Xanthal. Though it may have been inevitible, many still feel that the Humankind Empire is responsible for the collapse of Old Xanthal and the resulting centuries of hardship and strife. Because of that, our government has stepped cautiously into its relationship with your people. Generations later, some in Xanthal still harbor a deep resentment towards the Abh, and unfortunately even in this enlightened age many are blind to the fact that your state left the Empire before it ever saw the Milky Way."

Ceilia picked at her salad for a moment. "I see. The state of the Empire that was once so grand was beginning to lose its prestige and honor when we left. The founding Emperor once said that we would create a new Empire, one where the mistakes of the old would not be repeated."

"Hey, pointy-ears," Mark calls out. It's not clear who he's addressing; likely both of them. "Hurry up and eat. I'm not here for the view."

Caranthir rolls his eyes. "Not everyone enjoys pouring its food down its throat the way you do. If you are so anxious, why not occupy yourself with paying the tab?" Despite his retort, Oronar does begin eating, though at a much more reasonable pace than his counterpart.

Mark smiles approvingly, and turns back to Andrew. "Hey, where are you from? Do you live in space, too?"

Ceilia also moves to begin eating her salad.

Mark shakes his head. "No I'm from the planet Martine in the Hyde System. I think we have been officially a part of the Empire for about thirty years now."

"You think?" Mark looks at him skeptically. "Don't they teach you those things in school?"

Mark appears indignant at the remark. "The Hyde System is somewhat unique in its history. We were first inducted into the Empire during the Imperial calendar year of 952 when Lord Dusanyu first took control of Martine. As I remember correctly, president Roc was appointed a noble a day later. Let's see...then a partial faction of the United Mankind waged war against the Abh Empire and the Hyde System was taken away from the Empire after the assasination of Roc Lyn.

We remained a province of the United Mankind for some time until the Abh returned a few years later. From what I recall, the final battle with the remnants of the United Mankind and the Abh Empire was fought on grand scale. The Hyde System was then reestablished and now Count Jinto Lyn presides over the planet."

"Lyn?" Caranthir perks up at the name. "Was he a part of the joint mission to Aellis a few years ago?"

Andrew shruggs. "I'm not a member of Star Forces so I would have no idea." He looks at Ceilia. "You are a part of Star Forces, you would know better than I."

Ceilia nods her blue haired head. "That is true. Dusanyu and his crew of the Sankukau took part in the joint search. If I read the repart correctly, he along with the Princess and the chief engineer Samson were aboard the Xanthal ship while an Abh woman by the name of Sabriel was aboard our own. Why do you ask?"

"I have done some study of the public information on that mission. It has helped me immensely in understanding the contrasts of military protocol in the Empire and Republic. I remember Lyn's name because he is the first human Abh I ever read about. He is married to a member of your clan, if I recall correctly."

"She is a member of the Abriel clan though of a different family. The Count Hyde is married to Admiral Abriel Lafiel who was also aboard the Sankakau while searching for Aellis. I believe they have two children. Doron who is nearly 20 and Katsumi who is 10."

Mark takes the opportunity to pay their bill, swiping his identification card through a reader beside the computer screen. "How do you remember things like that? I have enough trouble keeping up with my studies. Don't you ever have fun?"

Caranthir looks indignant. "I think studying the Abh is fun," he responds challengingly.

"Whatever." Mark replaces the card in his wallet and sits back, placing a friendly arm around Andrew's shoulder. Caranthir works on finishing his meal.

Ceilia looks at Mark. "What about you? What's you family history like?"

"History? Well, I don't know much about it. My ancestors came from Earth, obviously, but that was almost a thousand years ago. I think my dad's side of the family was in Xanthal before it was even called that. I was born on Trasnia IV, moved to Mirfak III a couple years ago, and spent my fourth grade year studying on Earth. That's about it."

Andrew looks over at Caranthir. "What about you? I must say we have very few elves in the Empire."

"How much do you want to know?" he asks in a rare moment of consideration. Elves love their heritage, and Caranthir can go back nearly 100 generations. Of course, if they just want to hear about his own life he can do that, too. His body may be that of a human less than half his age, but his mind is as sharp as could be expected for a star student in the fifth grade of a Xanthalian public school.

Andrew rested an elbow on the table as he thought for a moment. "How about your parents and your own life? Nothing to far back into history you know."

"My parents were both born Mirfakan, around the time of the occupation. My father was born in Xavier, my mother in a rural community, Vernada. Both had a lot of difficulty growing up during the reconstruction. They met over the internet and moved here together in 321. I was born in 324, and I have lived in Oleenk my entire life."

"Interesting. I noticed that your population in the nation is in the minority. Do you have any friends that are elves or know of any?"

"Of course I know other elves. We may be a minority, but there is still one of us for every fifty people in this country. Elves tend to live in proximity to one another as well; there are more than one hundred in my apartment building alone, including myself and my parents. You should visit sometime." He addresses this last part to Ceilia.

"Don't mind him," Mark murmers to Andrew. "You can come to my place. My parents own an actual house, so there's more room anyway. I'll bet little pointy-ears over there just has a bunch of textbooks to amuse himself anyway."

Caranthir glares across the table, though the expression looks more cute on his childish face than he would probably like. "How would you know? Stop being childish."

Mark smiles at the irony of the statement. "Uh-huh. Well, if you don't mind, it's about time I headed home. I'll see you guys around. Call me up if you wanna do something," he says to Andrew, who he gave his number to earlier. He rises, flashes a toothy smile and a peace sign, then departs at a brisk pace.

A confused expression seems to be Ceilia's fate for the evening. "What was that gesture he just did?"

Caranthir sighs and shrugs. "Something he learned on Earth, no doubt." He helps a waiter to clear the table, then stands up, offering a gentlemanly hand to Ceilia. "Are you interested in doing anything else? The evening is young, and this is a big city."

Ceilia takes the hand. "I suppose we could. Andrew and I have only seen a few areas of the town, mainly the Yevonite church. What do you think Andrew?"

"Why don't you two go on ahead. I think I'll just head back and make sure Cymrik is alright."

Caranthir looks pleased, more so when Andrew decides to depart alone. He enjoys being around Ceilia. She's very much like an elf herself, pointed ears notwithstanding. The two leave together, Caranthir's arm stretched up over his head to hold Ceilia's, like a child and his mother. In this case, though, the child is serving as guide. "Is there anything that interests you? Movies, music... perhaps some canvass art? You have been so helpful in helping me understand the Abh culture; I just wish there was more to our own society that I could show you."

Ceilia accepted the hand though she didn't really know why. "Well, every Abh has a love for art and music. Perhaps you could show me some of your fine exhibits. I doubt any of them are Abh friendly though."

"Abh friendly?" he questions as they turn to follow the sidewalk up the street, crowded with people out enjoying the beginning of the weekend. "What do you mean?"

"Oh sorry I thought you knew. In the Abh culture we are known for various types of artwork. They range from typical canvases, sculptors, holographic art, to art that only an Abh can view. That type of art is experienced through the Froch." Ceilia points at the green jewel set in the middle of her tiara.

"We feel the art, live it, and in a sense experience it on a completely different level."

"Well, that does not mean you cannot appreciate other types of artwork. In Xanthal, you will find very little geared exclusively for the use of a single species. There are too many races here to cater to every one individually."

"I did not say that I had expected to find any. The Abh still have other types of art as well. That type of art typically accompanies a fleet for everyone to enjoy instead of taking up precious space on a ship."

"Indeed." The pair walks past a group of kids slightly younger than Ceilia, humans and than. They are dressed quite shabbily, and decked out in cheap, shiny trinkets. The wannabe-gangsters murmer something amongst themselves and snicker as Ceilia walks by. Caranthir pointedly ignores them and continues around the corner.

Ceilia could hear that they said something but couldn't quite make it out. "What did they say?"

The elf looks grim. "I do not know, and I do not want to know. Groups like that are as foolish as they are potentially dangerous."

"Indeed. So where are we going?"

"Well, if you want to look at art, the place to go would be a museum. That is the destination I have in mind, anyway."

"Is there a museum that is favored among your people?"

Caranthir laughs at the question, the first time he has laughed since she met him. It is a distinctly boyish laugh, but carries also the note of restraint characteristic of a higher level of emotional maturity. "By 'your people,' do you mean elves, fifth-graders, or Xanthalians?"

Ceilia ignored the laugh for the most part. "I meant Xanthalians. Do you not consider all citizens of Xanthal to be 'your people'?"

"I am no nationalist," he replies matter-of-factly. "I think you are mistaken to ask such a broad question. Any answer I give you will be a blatant generalization, and quite unrepresentative."

"Then allow me to simplify my question. Is there a museum that you prefer?"

"Whichever one is closest," he quips straightfacedly. "I am not usually a patron of the arts."

"A shame. Perhaps you just have not found a particular type of art that interests you. Have you ever experienced holographic art?"

"There are more important things to study than aesthetics. Besides, the only real art is in the natural world. Sentient constructs are almost invariably a demonstration of dominance over nature. Where sentients have not laid their hands can be seen the work of a divine psyche greater than that of any person in this universe." He stops himself, letting go of Ceilia's hand and looking up at her. "I apologize. I did not mean to insult your personal tastes."

Ceilia continues to walk though she clasps her wrists behind her back. Her voice carries loud enough so that Caranthir may hear her. "No apology is necessary. I would rather have you speak the truth to me though I must say that you look at art the wrong way. Art is not dominance. No far from it. Art is expression by the artist and a conveyance of how one feels when viewing a particular scene or image. The both of us could stand on a hill and watch the same sunset and yet come away with total different feelings. Canvas art can only mirror how the artist felt at a particular time and we see the world through their eyes. With holographic art, we view majestic sceneray and complexity of images ourselves and come away with our own experience and feelings. Does that make more sense?"

The elf hurries its pace on its sort legs to overtake his companion. Though he has no doubt she is willing to lead, only he knows where they are going. "It makes whatever sense you wish it to, in your own mind. I agree with your words, but I believe you misplace your values. If you are inviting me to join your viewpoint, I must decline. A sentient being has no power to match or surpass the divine inspiration of nature. We exist to destroy, and selfishly warp our reality to our own benefit. Our art may be percieved by some as beautiful, but to the spirit of the universe it is an abomination; a cheap imitation. I can enjoy such things only selfishly."

"I am not trying to convince you to look at art any particular way. I am merely showing you how the Abh view it and it's purpose in our society. Our holographic art often reminds us of how small and isignificant we are as individuals especially when you stand looking at snow covered peaks of a mountain range that has stood before the Empire ever came into being. We put paintings of land scenes on our ship walls to imitate beauty."

"I find it disturbing that you would speak for all Abh in stating your personal feelings."

"I only speak for a majority but not individuals. It has been a consensus that a starship needs a little color to liven it up and artworks of beauty serve such a purpose. And when I speak of how others feel, I am not speaking of the Abh race in its entirity but merely those that have reflected on the works of art before them."

"Indeed." The elf leads her down a narrower side street and begins paying attention to the signs on the buildings as they pass by.

Ceilia did the same and tried to decipher what the signs were saying as she tried to continue her education of the language.

The signs are many and varied, everything from barbershops to restaurants to offices and banks. It is a commercial district, obviously, and all the buildings are highrises in this part of town, making for sort of self-contained malls lining the road. They enter the lobby of one such building and, after a cursory examination of the building directory posted by the elevators, Caranthir waits with a nearby group for the next car.

"Where are we now Caranthir?"

"This is 604, Center Street East."

"So your art museum is a part of this mall?"

Caranthir looks perplexed as they enter the elevator, crowding in with perhaps fifteen other people in the relatively small car. He lowers his voice slightly in the confined area. "My art museum?"

Ceilia sighes and rolls her eyes. "Fine have it your way. Is there a Xanthalian art museum in the mall?"

"There is an exhibition hall here. Interesting that you would choose the term 'mall,' though. It is a good descriptor."

"I find it interesting that you would have an exhibition in such a place. I suppose though, that the art will get more traffic in a place such as this."

Caranthir doesn't seem to understand this, but he doesn't pursue the point. They spend quite some time on the elevator, as it stops on almost every floor, some people getting on and some getting off, and sometimes leaving people behind when the space is too full.

"Hey Caranthir, how many floors does this building contain?"

"I do not know," he replies. "Forty, perhaps?"

"I see. Building your facilities this tall does save on habitable space of a planet. This is an interesting idea of putting so many different outlets together in one building."

Caranthir seems to have some trouble with the last sentence, and he takes a moment to sift through his memory. Apparently failing, he asks Ceilia. "What is an 'outlet?'"

"Outlets? I suppose you would just call them small shops gathered into one building."

"Oh," he says simply. "Oleenk has a fairly small downtown area, only about 36 square blocks. The central district of most Xanthalian cities is made up almost exclusively of tall, multi-establishment buildings; mostly commercial and government zoning."

"Oh I see."

Ceilia looks back to the door and watches as the people file in while other leave.

"I apologize for the inefficiency," Caranthir submits. "These buildings are very well-used." They get of the elevator on the twenty-seventh floor, and are immediately in a large exhibit hall. The theme seems to be metal sculptures, and there are a lot of them; ranging from the size of a human finger to larger than Ceilia and Caranthir combined. There are at least a hundred in this room alone, which occupies half the floor. This does not seem to be a popular destination, as there are only two other people in the room.

"No apologies necessary."

Ceilia walks around looking at various artifacts but paying closer attention to the smaller metal sculptures.

There doesn't seem to be any real connection between the exhibit pieces. Some are abstract shapes and colors, some faithful depictions of people and things from the real world. Even the apparent skill involved in their creation and the types of metal used vary widely. Caranthir stays near the elevator, looking detached from the experience.

The intricacy at which it took to mold such small pieces of metal into their proper shapes were not lost on Ceilia. The slightest overheating or extra force would cause it to break. Great care had to be painfully taken while performing such art works.

She finished with the final little one and went on to the larger ones. Here a little more lee-way could be given with these as mistakes were easier to correct. However if the sculpture was not one with itself, the entire piece would be unbalanced and the flaw obvious.

"Don't you care to see them Caranthir?"

"I can see them sufficiently well from here," he replies, wth just a small note of hesitation.

Ceilia frowned as she settled on a large piece. "You can't appreciate the artwork from that far away. Why not come closer?"