NationStates Jolt Archive

Dawn poured across Reloria, washing away the darkness like a tidal wave. At long last, the rain that had pelted down on Mukasus City had come to an end, moving on to mark its territory elsewhere in Reloria. For the first time in days, the sun was visible, just peeking over the glistening rooftops and casting its warm, orange, early-morning glow over the entire city. The soaked city bloomed in its light, glowing with a healthy radiance that seemed like something out of a fairy tale. Tall spires of the few skyscrapers, lightning conductors, clock towers and several shrines and monuments reached up for the cloudless sky, casting all manner of strange, long, shadowy shapes right across the cityscape. The colourful buildings of the city had never looked more alive as they reflected the calm morning sun.

A pleasantly-chilled breeze wafted across the sleeping city, stirring up the only sounds to be heard for miles around. The bitter-sweet aroma of musty rain and ozone saturated the moist air, a smell which pleasantly reminded Matriarch Zelella of spring as she stood on a balcony in her dressing gown, sipping from a steaming mug of coffee, and taking in a deep breath from the wonderfully refreshing morning air. She looked at the city that surrounded the Grand Palace, admiring the tranquillity which prevailed over the woman-made forest of multi-story, multi-coloured buildings. Normally at this time of day, cars would already be bustling around in the streets, buses would be ferrying people around and trains would be rumbling by. But this morning, there was not a sound from anything but the distant rustling of trees, and the occasional early bird. The black maze of asphalt rivers had no noisy, smelly metal shoals of fish swimming through them. It was a thoroughly relaxing scene.

For most people in Reloria, today was the 'official' start of spring, a religious holiday devoted to giving thanks to the Goddess for releasing them from the cold grip of winter. Rarely did the weather actually reflect the meaning of the occasion, and given the heavy rain they had been experiencing of late it seemed as though the same would be true this year. But low and behold, for the first time in recent memory, the weather was actually most suitable for the occasion. The soaked, glistening city that was now left for them was almost magical both in appearance and mood, perhaps a sign from the Goddess that this year was going to be a good year. So far, She had already been more than generous, so today would certainly be a particularly thankful day.

Why people chose to sleep in on this day was beyond Zelella. She had specifically awoken early just to see what surprises the Goddess had laid out for them, and so far it was a pleasant one. A chiming bell in the distance suggested that she was not the only one who had awoken early – priests were up and about too, preparing for the occasion. The distant bell put the finishing touch to the fantastical scene, and disturbed even more birds, which promptly began whistling and tweeting.. She almost felt sorry for the priests, as they would have to spend most of the day inside the shrines. Almost, but not quite – she was probably going to spend all day inside as well. Today's events would ensure that. The original idea had been to make a show of dedication to the world, the entire Council sacrificing one the five most sacred days of the Relorian year to offer their hospitality. It had only dawned on them shortly after the invitation had been announced that nobody outside of Reloria actually knew the significance of the day. It was something of a wasted gesture on their part, but it was done now.

Zelella took another sip from her mug and turned around, hearing a knock on the doors to her quarters. Exiting the balcony through the open glass doors she stepped into her bedroom, which was decorated in the same red and white scheme as most of the rooms of the palace, and dominated by the enormous four-post bed. Bookshelves, cabinets and an elegant dressing table lined the walls of the large room. Her feet slapped against the bare, polished wooden floor as she walked across the room towards the large wooden doors. The chunky brass handle took the form of a lever, which made a loud clunking sound as she gently pulled it backwards and opened the door.

On the other side, her aide, Jessila Primross, stood patiently. Her arms were folded across her formal grey suit, clutching a clipboard loaded with important documents firmly to her chest. He tweaked her glasses and smiled warmly as the Matriarch opened the door, nodding her head.

“Mistress,” she said enthusiastically. “You... erm... asked me to come by and wake you early this morning...?”

“And I must say, you did a marvellous job,” Zelella grinned. “Are the preparations under way yet?”

“Yes mistress,” Jessila said. “The cooks just arrived, the Palace staff are preparing the main hall, and I believe the RCSF have begun working on their security plan. They tell me it should all be ready on time.”

“And the orchestra?”

“They might be a few minutes late, but, they should still be here soon enough,” Jessila said.

“Great,” Zelella nodded. “You head down to the kitchens, I'll just get dressed and then I'll join you.”

“Yes mistress,” Jessila nodded.

***

The Great Hall of the Relorian Palace was an enormous, bright room, absolutely plastered with historical artefacts and magnificent paintings of monumental size. The 'port'-side wall was almost entirely made up of large, arched windows, which flooded the room with sunlight from the outside. Through them, the great palace gardens were fully visible, with some of the early flowering plants adding some colour to the view. The far-end of the room was dominated by a huge white marble fireplace, the hearth easily being big enough for a person to stand up in. It had not been lit for many years, however, and a brass fire-guard kept the darkened alcove covered. On the walls on either side of the marble chimney column, old fashioned musical instruments were hooked onto wooden mounts. The 'starboard'-side wall had no windows; instead, it was lined with glistening silver and gold suits of armour from centuries ago, all clearly designed to be worn by women. Above them, consuming most of the large wall, was a gigantic landscape oil painting, depicting an area of outstanding natural beauty, likely a real place somewhere in Reloria. A golden plaque on the bottom of the bulky wooden frame had something engraved on it in the elegant script of the Relorian language. A silver chandelier dangled from the gold patterned ceiling high above. Multicoloured flowers on the tables, the mantelpiece of the fireplace, and the window sills gave the whole room a fresh, summery aroma – as opposed to the musky, old smell which usually resided here.

The substantial floor space of the hall was covered by big, square, glossy marble tiles, white in colour to match the creamy-white wooden panels of the walls. Usually a large rug was positioned in the centre of the room, but today a raised wooden platform was there instead. Several women in formal black suits stood on the platform, propping up several large instruments. The orchestra, apparently. They had a selection of unusually stringed instruments, as well as two large trumpet-like pieces, which needed their own stands to be supported. Around the platform were three huge tables. They were covered with silky white cloths, and each table was long enough to span the entire length of the room. They had been arranged to form an incomplete square around the room, with the orchestra centred between them. Already the attendants were setting places and putting fresh flowers in the vases, ready for the events later on.

Zelella and her aide walked across the hall from the nearby kitchens, their heeled shoes clicking against the marble floor and echoing around the room, highlighting its acoustical qualities. She wore an unusually formal suit, coloured with earthy browns which complimented the colour of her hair. Though it appeared more appropriate to ushering in autumn than spring. The two spoke briefly with the orchestra and a chef who wandered in to see them, and checked all the tables and chairs. Satisfied with the preparations, they continued walking out of the hall, down a short corridor and into the main drawing room.

The drawing room was quite large and spacious, yet its low ceiling, deep red wallpaper and carpeting, and the dark, mahogany-like wooden panels made it a lot cosier than the hall. Old furniture was dotted all around the room, ranging from large cushioned sofas and chairs to bulky coffee tables and several large bookshelves, each filled with old books written in various Relorian dialects, new and old. Several windows on the longest wall illuminated the room and allowed a view of an isolated courtyard, which had become overgrown with an assortment of plants over the years. The room had a slight musty, yet pleasant scent to it – old wood and old books conspiring with the old leather seats to create a distinct aroma.

“How are security preparations coming along?” Zelella asked as she checked the room over with her eyes, making sure it was clean and tidy.

“Mukasus Airport have been closed off and guards are already posted, and Daggjar Shipping Port has a dock reserved for Ctan's ship,” Jessila said. “Transportation is ready for them both, guards are posted along the roads... everything seems to be in order.”

“Excellent work,” Zelella nodded. “Right then, I guess that's it. Now we just have to wait and hope for the best. I'd better make sure the others are ready, actually... please tell me if there is any news.”

(( OOC: Sorry for the delay, first I was ill and then I was busy, can't win eh? I still might be delayed in my responses to please be patient! Those of you who posted in the invitation thread (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=467636) feel free to start arriving. I've never done one of these before so bear with me. If your country wanted to come, you can still ask on the invitation thread if you really want to. ))

The black, private military aircraft quietly darted across the ocean, carrying one of the most valuable of cargos. Behind it were a group of twenty four Vanguards, sticking low to the sea to avoid detection. As soon as they came within distance of Reloria's waters, they quickly rose skyward and turned back for Yurka, leaving the military aircraft to continue towards the nation itself with its most precious of cargos; the royal family.

The interior was lush, with chinchilla fur upholstery covering the seats and couches as the entire group were taking everything rather easily. The Emperor himself seemed uncharacteristically pleased at the fact that he was leaving Reloria behind, the first time in his life he'd actually left Yurka's borders firsthand. It would be interesting to see so many foreigners on someone else's terms. His children were also seated, chattering amongst themselves about Laria Preta, some random singer which was rather popularr among the teenagers.

"So Karth, tell me about Reloria again... Matriarchal... Religious..." The Emperor (http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y21/Kutulmak/kira17.jpg) said quietly, his eyes shut and his head leaning back in the seat as he rested for the trip. Of course once he arrived he would be the complete opposite, as appearance was paramout at these things, "Hmm... Supposedly rather beautiful... In a non-modern way."

"Yep. They's placed it on a holy day. I suppose it could be said that we're all honored guests then." The blonde haired man (http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y21/Kutulmak/Zack.jpg) said with a grin as he looked at the teenagers with a double-meaning, "Do you think Zera and Zack should stay behind?"

"Ehh..." Drake mumbled as he stared at the two twins, who were finally no longer identical. Perhaps if he was lucky something would distract them and keep them quiet, "That won't be necessary, they're members of the royal family as well. I would prefer that they don't become overly angry because we force them to wait at some hotel."

"Heh heh... You're probably right."

As Drake shut his eyes and slowly passed out into a regenerative sleep, the plane arrived nearly thirty minutes afterwards, with a report the the nation that Emperor Drake Yurka III had arrived with his family.

Two lone aircraft approached by radar undetected until they entered Relorian airspace, which was when the Stealth Systems would be deactivated so not to surprise those who would be welcoming Martens soon. The first aircraft was a customized Silberpfeil Ausf. C Fighter, piloted by Heinrich Riedelmann, who was Martens' only bodyguard and 2nd in command to the SS Leibstandarte "Kaiser Martens", the Panzerdivision named after him. Two big Iron Crosses with Black-White-Red onto the wings were clearly visible, a typically German and unmistakeable insignia.

The other aircraft was somewhat larger, but not much. It was Kaiser's transport and it held not only the flag but also an eagle with an M instead of the cross, symbolizing Kaiser Martens himself. Both ships were black like the night, and both moved at an incredible speed. Inside in the passenger compartment rested Martens onto one of the four chair available, leaning onto the side of the vehicle as he watched the landscape passing by, with a very calm, slightly distant face. There was in the other place of the vehicle, in the cockpit, one pilot who was also a member of the SSLKM.

So yes, Martens was bold, fearless, or downright stupid. He did not really have much protection there, yet he felt safety. He did not have enemies anymore. The time for war was over. Europe was unified. His dream had come true. It was time to rest, rebuild.....no more blood. Now he could calm down and put his weapons down to try to enjoy life. He had always been curious about Reloria, and this was just a perfect time to go there. He dressed in his Reichskaiser uniform (http://www.geocities.com/kaisermartens/Kaiser.jpg) and had a slight little smile onto his face. He just waited, hearing his own breathing, pretty much still, his eyes staring off into the distance as if longing.

In the cockpit, "Attention Reloria. This is Kaiser Martens from Deutschland arriving, and we request permission for landing at any given space. Thank you. Coordinates are..."

Martens sighed calmly, relaxed, and leaned back onto his chair, allowing his eyes to close. Hopefully in spite of the cultural differences he would not offend anyone.

Office of the Chief of Staff to the Prime Minister
The Citadel, Imperium, Province of New Britain

What’s the count, Annabel? With a quick snap of the wrist Howard Robertson threw a small black leather messenger bag over his shoulder before turning his bald head to try and find his hovering secretary.

Wheels are up in half an hour.

Robertson shook his head, bloody hell, he mumbled to nobody but himself. For several weeks the junior staff had been planning one of the few state visits that Robertson’s boss had ever made – and yet they had seemingly neglected how to actually get the Prime Minister onboard the aircraft on time. As he threw his overcoat over his shoulder he couldn’t contain a frown as it was not so much that the Prime Minister wanted to be late, there were just other matters of importance taking much of his time.

Annabel, Robertson shouted out the door, trying to catch his secretary’s attention. I need to know where the Foreign Secretary is?

The Foreign Office says she’s on her way.

Flicking a switch, Robertson cut the power to the fluorescent lights that lit his spacious, though messy, office. For the next few days he would be running most of the UK from an aircraft or his secure mobile phone – the miracles of modern technology. Walking quickly he turned the corner and headed to the large, solid wooden door that stood between him and the Prime Minister – a barrier that absorbed the heavy blows of his fist.

Come in, came a muted response.

Opening the door slowly and with a noticeable measure of respect, Robertson found the short head of government straightening a tie in a small mirror. Mr. Prime Minister, are you ready?

Just about, Howard. Any news out of Seaburg since yesterday?

No, sir. The Isselmere delegation has yet to return to the talks and there is yet to be any official response by the Sarzo Administration.

Hrm, I would have expected President Sarzo to come out raging mad.

For his part, Alistair Tetley, the First Marquess of Salisbury, had found the United Kingdom increasingly entangled in the continuing collapse of the Sarzonian economy despite the acrimony both nations shared for each other. He had dispatched the Chancellor of the Exchequer to the Grand Duchy of Hamptonshire to attend a meeting of world financial powers and with the absence of the Prime Minister and the Foreign Secretary to Reloria and the Chancellor to Seaburg, Tetley found himself worrying over the smallest details since the untested Ashley Thomason would be effectively running the domestic affairs of the UK for the next several days. And so Tetley put his mind at ease by focusing upon his tie.

Alright, Howard, Tetley finally said with a final tug on his tie, tightening the knot below his neck. We’re going to Reloria.

En Route to Reloria, Somewhere Over the Pacific Ocean

Tetley stared out the window, his mind absorbed by the delicate nature of the clouds beneath him and the aircraft. The previous three hours had been largely uneventful and he had managed to catch an unscheduled nap – a truly rare occurrence – although he now found himself awake and awaiting a briefing on Relorian-UK relations.

The frosted glass door that separated Tetley’s secure office from the remainder of the aircraft became dark as figures appeared before it, the first offering a distinctive series of rapid fire knocks that Tetley recognised as his chief of staff. Come in, Howard, Tetley called out as he spun around in his swivel chair to face the staffers and aides who filed into the small office. Please, everyone, have a seat.

Everyone laughed politely as the crowd realised there were nowhere near enough seats for the whole entourage, and in true UK fashion the pecking order emerged as senior staffers quietly took their seats and pushed junior staffers and aides to the back walls.

Allowing himself a smile, Tetley continued on. Now, what do we know about Reloria?

From a seat near the Prime Minister’s desk a short woman in her thirties quietly cleared her throat. A petite brunette, Emily Deveraux bore the title of the UK’s Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs – the preeminent diplomat in all of the United Kingdom. [i]Mr. Prime Minister, the information we have on the country is fairly limited as we have neither an embassy nor a diplomatic mission in-country. In large part we are working these conclusions off of media broadcasts and scraps of information we’ve obtained from our friends and allies.

With the qualifier out, Deveraux took a slight breath. The nation of Reloria styles itself as a “constitutional matriarchy” and recent elections brought to power one Zelella Rocca of the, Deveraux looked down at a small index card on which she had written detailed notes for the briefing, of the Reloria Social Democratic Party. We know that Ms. Rocca is seeking to bring her country into the international mainstream and that this function is being held in direct relation to that desire.

Tetley nodded, Howard, what’s your analysis of the country?

Sir, from the available intelligence that is, as the Madame Secretary pointed out, quite sketchy at best, I believe that Reloria does offer the United Kingdom a potential ally at least in the sphere of international diplomacy. As both our countries are headed by left or centre-left governments I think it’s safe to say that there should be some common ground between you and Matriarch Rocca. In terms of a military ally, there is far less substantial date. Given their relative isolation and their desire for peace I believe that any military alliance would likely provide benefits in a one-way direction. Economically, the nation appears to have an advanced to semi-advanced economy that ought to prove a valuable market to UK firms if we can enter into a treaty reducing or eliminating tariffs and duties on both goods and services. As you’re well aware, our manufacturing base has weakened considerably in the past decade and it is likely that Relorian manufactured goods would be far more accessible to UK consumers than our goods to their consumers. As such, I’d advise that any trade treaties call upon the opening of all industrial sectors, primary through quaternary to both countries.

Notes were scribed hastily by Tetley with a pen sheathed in a heavy plastic that appeared to be made of crimson-red marble. Admittedly, he had spent too little of his time focusing on Reloria with the numerous other crises the UK found developing throughout the world and this session would undoubtedly help him better understand the potential next friend of the United Kingdom. Alright, what else do we have on them?

Several Hours Later, on Approach to Mukasus Airport

Robertson knocked once more on the office door of Tetley, and upon opening it found the slender middle-aged Prime Minister reclining on his chair, hoping to enjoy the last few minutes of descent in a peaceful slumber. Sir, Robertson quietly asked several times before finding it necessary to tap Tetley on his shoulder.

With a jump Tetley awoke and saw the water in his glass both at an angle and with all of its ice melted. He could only guess how long he had been out cold. How much longer?

Any minute now, sir. The Protocol Office has arranged for a slight photo opportunity after landing and so the press corps will be disembarking from the aft hatch immediately, and you’ll follow within ten minutes and assuredly be asked questions – likely on the Sarzonian situation as something new has come up.

And what’s that?

Apparently somebody sabotaged their main stock market, hence the significant drops as of late. And while there hasn’t been a statement yet they’re expected to finger persons in Hamptonshire, Pacitalia, or perhaps even us. The Chancellor’s comments don’t appear to be playing well in the Sarzonian press.

Tetley rubbed his eyes, forcing the sand out. With a slight thud the two knew the aircraft had touched down and with great effort Tetley forced himself to stand, grabbing his black pinstripe sportscoat from off the back of standing coat hanger bolted onto the cabin floor. I suppose it’s time to go make some more history, Howard.

Indeed, sir.

The two waited by the front entrance as the aircraft taxied to its secure hangar and while the journalists filed out and arranged themselves to take pictures and statements. With a creak the hatch opened and Tetley could hear the assembled loudspeakers blare: The Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, Lord Salisbury.

The air traffic control tower at Mukasus International was dead. A skeleton team manned the facility specifically for this occasion, presumably with a large pay bonus for doing so. Whatever bonus they had received didn't seem to be sufficient to wipe the miserable expressions from their faces as they lounged around, bored and tired. Very little was happening on the various instruments that were dotted around the room, as the airport was for all intents and purposes, closed.

It felt more like a military facility than a civilian facility today. A soldier stood guard right beside the door to this very room, idly dangling her assault rifle below her as she read a newspaper. Looking out of the large windows that surrounded them, could be seen various army vehicles driving around, moving people across the vast concrete expanse below. Soldiers stood guard all over the place, in their blue and gold dress uniforms, watching every corner of the airport, guarding every doorway, checking for anything out of the ordinary. There were probably many more soldiers out-of-sight. To save personnel, some areas of the large airport had been sealed off completely, preventing access to anybody, friend or foe.

Panning around further, part of the airport was under significant construction; apparently being expanded with a large terminal and an extra runway. Presumably the airport had only moved people domestically, and between Reloria and their occupiers, until quite recently. A surge of domestic and foreign business had overwhelmed the airport, prompting a swift decision by the government to expand it several times over the next few years, starting immediately. The construction site lay dormant today, though its scaffolding, muddy machinery and a general state of disarray marred an otherwise attractive modern building.

The team were awoken from their musings when they began to receive landing requests. First just one, then two, and three... they began communicating with the pilots of the incoming flights, guiding them down to designated runways and instructing them where to park.



The first plane to land originated in Yurka. As soon as it came to a halt, trucks loaded with soldiers swarmed around it. For a short while the plane remained silent while the soldiers secured it and the surrounding area, checking for anything out of the ordinary -- not just for the safety of the Yurkans, but for the safety of Reloria also. Once they were satisfied, a mobile staircase was towed carefully into position and secured. Shortly afterwards, a metallic silver limousine pulled up quietly not far from the staircase, and a woman in a black suit stepped out of it and looked up to the plane. With her jacket buttoned, her jet-black hair tied back tightly in a bun, and a pair of dark glasses on, she probably wasn't a civilian. She put her arms behind her back and stood patiently, waiting to take the Yurkans to their destination.



The second plane -- or rather, planes -- to land hailed from Kaiser Martens. Once more, the moment they halted in their designated parking areas, trucks of troops secured them and the surrounding area, before calling in the staircases. Another silver limo stopped beside it, and another woman in a black suit stepped out and looked up at the planes. She seemed just as... conservative as the other, though her brown hair was allowed some leeway in the form of a tight ponytail. As a staircase was adjusted and secured beside each of the planes, she waited patiently for their occupants to emerge.



The third plane to land, last of a volley of quick arrivals, was from the United Kingdom. After escorting the plane to its requested hangar and checking it over, the soldiers were quite surprised when press disembarked first. Nevertheless, they kept to the sides of the hangar and left the Azazians to it. As Lord Salisbury disembarked into a hail of flash photography they stood to attention, leaving the Azazian security forces to keeping the press under control.

The sound of an engine purring just outside was masked by all the noise, but it was there. Another woman in a black suit stepped into the hangar. She was slightly less rigid than the others, her brown hair held in an elegant, curled pattern behind her head with a hairpin, though she was no less cold or formal. She made her way through the foreign press and nodded at the Prime Minister, placing her hand against her chest in a form of salute.

"Prime Minister Salisbury," she said, politely but loud enough to be heard. Her voice was strict and confident, though heavy with Relorian accent to the point of being hard to understand at times. "Reloria is honoured with your presence here. Your transportation awaits you, whenever you are ready to leave."

She glanced around at his staff, frowning. "Shall I order an extra vehicle for your company?"

‘Thank you for that, Deputy Secretary,’ answered Lord Ertham Nidor, Head of Government of the Eternal Republic, as he gazed absentmindedly at nearby windows that permitted reddish light from the low morning sun to stream into the aircraft. The Xirniumite Airbus A3XX (the mainstay jet aeroplane of the Parliamentary diplomatic airfleet) soared high above a group of fluffy cumulus clouds, its smooth flight belying its tremendous speed. A dismissive wave of his wizened hand indicated that the Chief Minister had no further questions concerning the Xirniumite civil servant’s concise briefing on the leader of the primary opposition party in Reloria, Ms Nell Julini.

A meeting of the senior members of the Xirniumite delegation was currently being held in preparation for their imminent visit to the Constitutional Matriarchy, and the Xirniumites had already spent the last hour and a three quarters analysing the various personalities of the Relorian political landscape. Grouped around an expensively large, dark mahogany table with highly polished granite surface, the opulent interior of the superjumbo ensured that the Xirniumite politicians travelled both in style and comfort. Two of the individuals, the Chief Minister and the Parliamentary Secretary to the Foreign Ministry, wore the distinctive dark maroon cloaks which identified them instantly as members of the High Ecclesiarchy - the remainder wore sophisticated charcoal, navy blue, or grey suits.

‘How much longer until we have arrived at Mukasus International Airport?’ asked Dr Carolyne Daentra, a member of the Senior Executive of the Foreign Ministry. ‘It simply will not do for us to be overly late.’

‘We should be arriving momentarily,’ explained one of the lady’s aides, clicking a remote control button to indicate the aircraft’s current progress and flight plath from a high-resolution television monitor mounted on the opposite wall. ‘Despite initial delays we will arrive at the scheduled time.’

‘Those delays could not be helped,’ explained the Chief Minister gravely, idly leafing through one of the folders before him. This one contained background information on the Relorian Matriarch - detailing her early years as an activist in the “Liberate Reloria Now” movement, her time spent as a political prisoner, and her meteoric rise to power in the years which followed. The very party that currently governs Reloria was founded by the young Matriarch when she was only twenty, Lord Nidor reflected, clearly impressed. None of the information about the Matriarch contained in the folders was particularly new, nor had it not already been printed by the media before, but it was still useful.

‘Quite an extraordinary individual, Ms Zelella Rocca,’ opined Lady Eleanor Sablina, noticing the Chief Minister re-examining the file. Barely in her late twenties and auburn haired, Lady Sabelina contrasted markedly with the ancient Ertham Nidor, who was over ninety years old and at the end of his venerable career. The Parliamentary Secretary casually smoked a cigarette while she regarded the leader of her Parliamentary party, the XPDP, carefully. ‘At least, from what we know of her, that is,’ Lady Sabelina cautiously clarified. ‘The Xirniumite media has been relatively friendly towards the Matriarch and also towards Reloria generally. She must really have impressed the XBC at her first press conference.’

‘Hmpff,’ Lord Nidor snorted, ‘if only they were as forgiving towards my Government. I spent an entire interview today fending off savage criticism of our countercyclical fiscal policy. The media is relentless, even the announcement of my intention to resign in the near future has not stopped them.’ Carefully, Lord Nidor took another sip from his mostly empty glass of bourbon.

‘That reminds me, Lord Nidor, we need to talk about adjusting our automatic stabiliser policy, particularly income tax rate and transfer payments,’ pointed out one of the politicians at the table.

‘Another time,’ explained the Chief Minister tersely. ‘At the moment we must to concern ourselves with the upcoming visit.’

‘The importance of forging good diplomatic ties with Reloria cannot be overemphasised,’ added Lady Sabelina. ‘The political and economic benefits that can be derived from an alliance with such a strong liberal democracy are quite substantial.’

‘I agree. Let us ensure that everything runs smoothly,’ replied Lord Nidor

A warning chime along with an announcement from the captain informed the delegation that the aircraft was preparing to land. No doubt it was already requesting the relevant clearance from Relorian aerospace authorities.

‘Very well, we will conclude the conference at this point in time. Good luck, everyone,’ explained the Chief Minister. Rising from the table, Lord Nidor would return to his personal office suite located further towards the front of the enormous aeroplane, to wait there with brooding patience until the time came to disembark.

The planes continued to approach and landed as they did, both of them, and Martens opened his eyes when he felt the altitude dropping. Once that they had stopped, he looked outside through the small window before standing up and adjusting his uniform lightly to make sure that it was perfect, grinning to himself and thinking, "My, what a warm welcome..." and then after a few seconds more the only door of the aircraft opened up allowing for a little stairway. Martens did not say anything to the pilot, for he had already been instructed so he would stay in the plane. However, as he was descending, looking about with a smile - Riedelmann (The other man) came to him. "Mein Kaiser," But he was interrupted. "Aa, you will stay. It really doesn't seems like a war zone here now, I'll be safe. Make sure both aircraft remain ready."

Only one answer, "Jawohl Mein Kaiser." before Heinrich headed back into the plane as Martens slowly stepped forth, the very light wind moving his hair slightly, the smile still there. There was an air in him that looked strangely like he was an ordinary person in spite of the uniform. That was one of the things that the people liked about him - even though he was an Emperor he did not forget his origins and the fact that he was a person just like anyone. He did not behave stiffly, or overly formal, yet his words always did show respect when needed. He smiled at the woman who had emerged from within the silver limo. His head bowed gently and he said, in good Relorian accent and language, "Good Day Lady."

Martens had always been an enthusiast of languages. Perhaps he'd learn Relorian if he liked it around here. His hands folded behind his back for a moment as the calm smile on his face did not seem to want to leave. He wondered if all the Ladies around here were as pretty and as silent. Soon he'd know.

The MIV Gilthoniel was like the proverbial axe that had, over its existence, many handles, and many heads, having existed for several centuries, and having few indeed original components. It was a destroyer, though it approached Reloria, for its convenience, more as a submarine than a surface ship, with, in true iceberg fashion, the majority of her body underwater – even so, given that the vessel had insufficient true buoyancy to float, and would sink like a stone if her engines were deactivated.

Aboard her open observation deck, the Elentári of Menelmacar leaned forwards on the railings of the massive ship, surrounded by a small flock of seagulls who seemed to have taken to her as she watched the approaching port of Daggjar. She was dressed very differently from her usual fare, her imposing height enhanced even further by high heels and her figure more slender than usual. From a high collared dress that touched the bottom of her chin, to the tips of her boots, she was clad in various hues of black, but for a light over-cloak – black too – with a stunning midnight blue lining set with dozens, perhaps hundreds of diamonds that somehow sparkled with inner light.

She reached out to lightly stroke a seagull standing on the railing she was leaning on with one gloved hand, the bird seeming to be far too entranced to object. Her husband, dressed in a diametrically opposed outfit of billowing, loose white and silver, strode up to her, hopping over one of the birds. “What do you think?” he asked.

“They’re cuddly,” Sirithil replied, finally annoying the seagull enough for it to aim a lackadaisical peck at her fingers.

“I meant of the port.”

“Oh,” she said, “It’s quite neatly arranged, not very busy…”

“That’s probably the holiday…”

“Holiday?”

“Religious festival here, first day of spring,” he said, “I’ve been reading up.”

“I suppose we should go ashore now,” Sirithil said, petting the gull lightly.

“Yes,” he agreed, “Why not.”

"Kaiser Martens," the woman said sternly, taken aback slightly by his knowledge of Relorian, a fairly obscure dialect by international standards to say the least. She decided to continue speaking English for the time being, though. "It is an honour to have you in our nation. I am Agent Kellisso of the Relorian Security Agency, I have been tasked with your party's security for the duration of your visit here. If you have any queries or requests, please let me know."

She looked back at the silver limo, whose driver sat patiently at the wheel reading a newspaper. It wasn't an enormous vehicle, but it did seem luxurious. A small flag of Kaiser Martens was attached to a miniature flagpole on the front, which fluttered slightly.

"Whenever you are ready Kaiser, we can get underway," she said. "It is only a short journey down a highway from here. We will be travelling in a convoy of several unmarked armoured vehicles along with two other limousines. Ordinarily this level of security would not be required for anything, even the Matriarch herself prefers to travel in discretion, but we do not wish any visitors to feel uncomfortable or unsafe."



Meanwhile, the Xirnium plane arrived. It was guided down the runway and into another secured area to park. The soldiers performed all their checks to their satisfaction. This plane was somewhat larger than had been expected, and so it was parked beside an aerobridge for convenience. Once the bridge was extended and secured, Agent Jerrassi got out of the limo that was parked nearby and jogged up the emergency staircase and rapped her knuckles against the cold door, signalling those inside that it was safe to open up.

She stepped back slightly and waited patiently, dusting down her suit. Reloria already had relations of some kind or another with Xirnium, and for some reason this made Jerrassi feel even more pressured. It was one thing to screw up relations with a nation they had never communicated with before, but another thing entirely to screw up an existing relationship. Not that any of the others would have any more or less leeway to screw up than she did, but the thought didn't ease the pressure she felt.



Hundreds of miles away, the port of Daggjar was just receiving its share of the dawn. An eerie mist lingered around the virtually-abandoned facility, obscuring the morass of cargo containers that lay dormant in huge expanses of fenced-off concrete. The sound of the waves lapping gently against the docks was relaxing when one considered that it was the only sound to be heard for miles around other than birds. Seagulls flew overhead, heading out to find their early-morning food. The scent of salt water and fish was strong, almost overpowering, and mingled slightly with the smell of diesel fuel. Ships of all shapes and sizes littered the harbour, from enormous cargo containers anchored off in the distance, to small fishing boats bobbing around at the shore. The only people to be seen lived on the boats, and were heading off inland for whatever celebrations they had planned to be part of for the day.

This was all changed as the port authorities guided the MIV Gilthoniel into port. The sound of her engines roaring and her hull slicing through the waves disturbed the tranquility. Several tug boats chugged their engines as they helped the large ship move into position. Soon after it was moored, vehicles drove down the concrete docks and screeched to a halt on the wet concrete not far from the jetty. One of them was a limo, two of them were black saloons, and another was a brand new IFV. Security here was not so potent as at the airport, presumably because there was only a single arrival scheduled here and they likely had their own security forces aboard in abundance anyway. Sometimes, obscurity was the best defence. Few people knew that there were any arrivals due here today, so it made more sense to keep it that way than to alert everybody.

From within the silver limo, another woman emerged and stepped forward, buttoning her jacket up. Another agent got out from one of the black cars and moved towards her. They spoke with each other about something as the wind began to pick up, blowing their hair around and drowning out their voices. The agent from the black saloon nodded and returned to the car, which sped away once more. The remaining agent turned around and waited for the occupants of the ship to disembark. They had a pair of helicopters waiting for them a couple of miles away.

Ertham Nidor’s quiet reading was abruptly interrupted by a loud rapping at the door to his office. Sighing, Lord Nidor put down the leather bound book, a splendid translation of Plato’s Gorgias dialogue (recommended to him by the Xirniumite Defence Minister) that he was enjoying immensely. ‘Enter,’ commanded the Chief Minister, though he already knew what the announcement would be.

‘Chief Minister, the aircraft has finished taxing and we are ready to disembark,’ explained a young secretary.

‘Excellent, thank you for that, Anna. Please inform the rest of our delegation that I shall be down momentarily,’ replied the Chief Minister. Rising from his elaborately engraved, oak desk, Lord Nidor smoothed the cloak that he wore, which was made of a red fabric so dark that it was almost black. As he walked into the adjacent suite, Ertham briefly checked his appearance in a nearby mirror. A tall, thin man with high check-bones, snowy white hair and a rather gaunt appearance stared back with cold, grey eyes. I am getting quiet old… he thought bitterly, before suppressing the brooding thoughts and returning his mind to the matter at hand.

Briskly descending the richly carpeted stairs to the lower level, Ertham noticed that the remainder of the Xirniumite delegation had already gathered at the entrance to the aircraft, and were engaged in muttered conversation as they waited impatiently to disembark. There were no overt security guards to protect the gathered group. The Xirniumite government often showed an almost haughty arrogance towards issues of personal security during foreign visits, the very notion that any would dare threaten a Parliamentarian of the Eternal Republic seemed utterly inconceivable to many of the politicians of the High Ecclesiarchy. Indeed, much to the dismay of the Armed Forces, the Chief Minister had permitted only one Xirniumite fighter aircraft to escort the superjumbo during its journey to the edge of Relorian airspace.

‘Are we all ready?’ asked Lord Nidor, smiling enthusiastically.

The deputy Foreign Minister merely rolled her eyes in annoyance on seeing that the Chief Minister had finally arrived. The wilowy and slender Parliamentary Secretary's cloak rustled stiffly as she moved, and she wore her long, wavy hair in a fashionable bun. ‘Now we are,’ Lady Sabelina noted tersely.

A dull knock from the the outside of the aircraft indicated that the seal had closed. The door to the aircraft opened and the delegation quickly filed out onto the aerobridge.

‘Greetings from the Eternal Republic of Holy Xirnium,’ announced the Xirniumite Head of State to the Relorian security official, radiating confidence. He inclined his head slightly towards the lady in the formal Xirniumite gesture of greeting.

‘I am Lord High Grand Cardinal Ertham Nidor, Chief Minister of the High Ecclesiarchy. This,’ Ertham explained, indicating the individual who stood beside him, ‘is Lady High Grand Cardinal Eleanor Sabelina, Parliamentary Secretary of the Xirniumite Foreign Ministry.’

‘No doubt, of course, you were already well aware of who we are,’ added Eleanor with a knowing smile.

‘We are all deeply honoured to be your guests in the Relorian Constitutional Matriarchy,’ explained the Foreign Minister. The two Xirniumite Parliamentarians waited expectantly and smiled.

Minutes after everything the pair of doors facing the staircase suddenly opened, revealing the lush red interior within, as well as a group of eight black uniformed guards, six female and two male, all armed with concealed handguns on their person. As they walked down the staircase, looking in every direction to make sure there was nothing to fear, they eventually moved out of the way, forming a line along the staircase, out of the way of the entire affair. From that point on they would remain out of sight, to make the Relorians feel more at ease with his presence. Appearance was very important in Yurka, and as the Emperor finally appeared in view, he immediately smiled upon noticing that they too were treating this in an exceptionally professional manner.

The Emperor walked with the aura of a man who was full of pride and self-assurance of his own nobility, or perhaps it was the nation's foremost school for etiquette finally paying off. Regardless, the man standing six feet, three inches walked down calm and with an unsuspecting warmth to him, unexpected from such a supposedly frightening man. His long black hair was also taken care of, tied behind his head into a single ponytail, nearly blending in with the black suit he wore.

Following close behind him was his friend and imperial general Karth Grimoire, standing a small margin taller than the Emperor, and dressed in a nearly identical black suit, with his dirty blonde hair combed back, showcasing his unnaturally pale blue eyes. Unlike the Emperor, Karth gave off almost no emotion as he stood at the bottom of the staircase, standing to the side for the Emperor's youngest children to depart the craft.

As the Emperor's youngest two children, Zera and Zack Yurka appeared in their own matching black suits, the sixteen year old fraternal twins slowly descended together. Zera stood nearly the exact same height as her brother, at nearly six feet, while her brother slouched behind her, seemingly withdrawn. They both had suits on, black with and well kept, and Zera allowed her hair to fall down her back, while her brother had his cut at the shoulders, to better allow people to tell them apart.

"Greetings..." Emperor Drake Yurka the third said with a bow as he looked at the woman in front of him, as Karth did the same, eventually followed by the two children as Drake's eyes wandered to them, "It is truly a pleasure to be in such a magnificent nation... I must say the rumors of this country's beauty are true, even from just looking at the landscape on the way here I could tell... I take it this limousine is meant for us?"

The Emperor finished with a pleasant smile as he finally rose his head upward and placed his hands behind his back in gratitude. It was only a matter of time before he met the Matriarch herself no doubt, or at least he was expecting such a thing to transpire. If not he supposed mingling with the others guests would more than sustain his interest.

Martens grinned softly for a few seconds, noticing the silent impact that his (improvised) skills of the language had caused, this grin fading back to the usual smile as the agent spoke, as he nods in understanding. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Agent Kelisso. I see that around here you take your job very seriously." He looks about for a second. Dawn was certainly a pretty thing to watch.

"Hmm, I understand the peaceful nature of your people and that is why I do not bring with me a large crew. As a matter of fact those two are staying in their vehicles. I figured that driving around with a Panzer Leopard III behind me would disturb the peaceful atmosphere around here...and I've certainly made the right choice. Let us get going, if all is ready..." Martens spoke very good English, although every now and then one of the Rs would hint to his German Accent, in spite of German not being his mother tongue. "Indeed. If I need anything I shall let you know." He smiles warmly as he looks at her and begins to advance towards the limo. Soon they'd be on the way, soon they'd arrive...

OOC: Just to let you know I'm still alive... I'm busy at work at the moment, but I'll post later I promise! I was going to post something the other day, but the forums weren't working properly.

With a deferential nod, Tetley smiled and waved his hand, smiling at the emissary of the Relorian government. Thank you, Madame, however I shall be accompanied only by two other individuals, the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, Emily Deveraux and my Chief of Staff, Howard Robertson.

As the small group headed off towards the waiting automobile Tetley turned around once to wave at the press corps, snapping hundreds of photos of the Prime Minister’s first visit to Reloria, which was itself an oddity for a man who preferred to remain at home in the United Kingdom. Finally, satisfied that the press had ample footage of his meeting with the Relorian emissary he turned around to face his escort.

First I should like to thank you for intervening in that whole affair. The press seems one of the most demanding bodies of a nation’s citizenry although quite similar in fact to a cat: utterly dependent upon the hand that feeds it its information although quite willing to go its own way and follow its own desires as soon as it can.

At last the group arrived at the limo, where Tetley paused before the Relorian official. And yourself, Madame, may I inquire as to your name as I am terribly afraid that you know well who I am – but I am at quite the disadvantage.

~~~

Agent Jerrassi panicked somewhat as the Xirniumite delegation emerged from the plane. She suddenly realised that she had little to no idea of how to greet these people according to their customs, much less regarding how to greet a male in a position of power without offending him in some way. She racked her brain and, after watching this man perform his own greeting, came to the conclusion that a simple head-bow and a salute would suffice. So, she did exactly that; she bowed her head slight and placed her hand against her chest in a Relorian salute.

"It is a significant honour to welcome to you to the Relorian Matriarchy, Lady High Grand Cardinal Eleanor Sabelina, Lord High Grand Cardinal Ertham Nidor," she stammered, nodding to each of them, simply pleased that she had actually remembered both titles. "I am Agent Jerrassi, of the Relorian Security Agency. I have been assigned to your safety for the duration of your stay here; feel free to badger me with any questions or requests you may have during your stay. If you would like to proceed down this staircase, your transportation awaits below."

She stood aside, allowing them to pass by her politely.



~~~

The stern woman performed a Relorian salute as the Yurka delegation emerged, her movements forceful and confident. She watched with some degree of interest as the various Yurkans made their way down the staircase, eying the security guards with a particularly stern glance, and listened intently as they spoke to ensure she absorbed every detail. She unusually regarded her duty as not only protecting the Yurkans from any harm, but also protecting Reloria from them if at all necessary, and every fact and mannerism she could absorb could be potentially useful. Though no such mission had been stated, she considered it to be inherent -- too many foreigners had stomped on Relorian soil already for her liking. When the Emperor finished speaking, she nodded her head.

"Emperor Drake Yurka, I presume," she said, her voice cold. She kept her emotions hidden, probably as she felt uncomfortable with the concept of a male in power -- a CT voter if ever there was one. "My mistress, Matriarch Zelella, sends her personal regards. She is most honoured by your attendance here, and that of your family and comrades, and looks forward to encountering you herself shortly. I am Agent Herral of the Relorian Security Agency; I have been assigned to you to ensure your delegation is secure for the duration of your stay. I have been instructed to answer your questions and consider any requests you may have. Yes, this is your transportation -- whenever you are ready, we can begin our journey."



~~~

Agent Kellisso nodded to the Kaiser. "Security is a serious concern. Though we have no real security threats here, especially not today of all days, the Matriarch stated that she did not wish for any of our visitors to feel... uncomfortable whilst here. I would suppose that if she were visiting a new foreign land, we would demand no less. And we all appreciate your understanding on this matter. Please, after you."

She tailed the delegation to the limo, rushing ahead to hold the door open for them. Once he was inside and she was sure nothing was in the doorway, she shut the door gently and jogged around the back of the vehicle, getting in the passenger door at the front. The engine started and revved up as the driver slowly moved the car forward, turning it around to join a small convoy consisting of black saloons and other limos. Agent Kellisso turned in her seat to look back at the Kaiser.

"The journey is a few miles, though there is a highway from here to the city centre so it should only be roughly twenty minutes," she told him. "There should not be any traffic, and the direct route is closed off to be certain."



~~~

The woman adjusted the elegant hairstyle she wore as they exited the morass of reporters, giving his two colleagues similar greetings as he introduced them, and listening to the Prime Minister's musings on the voracity of the press and nodding in agreement.

"From a security point of view they are often more trouble than they are worth," she agreed. "Though I suppose they have their uses..."

She escorted the three Azazian officials out of the hangar, away from the noise of the press, and outside into the peaceful, cool morning air, disturbed only by the throb of the limo's engine ticking over and other planes landing across the port. She realised her oversight when the Prime Minister asked her name.

"Apologies, Prime Minister," she said, bowing her head. "I was preoccupied just now, and completely forgot. I am Agent Rissa of the Relorian Security Agency. I have been assigned to ensure your safety here, and to answer any questions you may have to ask. If you need anything during your stay, please let me know." She smiled, holding the limo door open for the three officials. "The journey should take less than half an hour, and I anticipate that there will be no problems on the way." She was going to crack a joke about this particular brand of vehicle being prone to explosions, but thought it best to keep it to herself for the time being.

“I can't apologize enough for the trouble over Torontia, I don't even know who that fake was, as you know I was," before being cut off by a look from the Suprainister.

"Give it no mind Izalian, and don't mention it, I don't want to hurt your feelings, what's done is done, we merely need to see what the investigation yields, however though I do think that you had better apologize to the Xirnimites, you may not be the one responsible but for all appearances, that woman was you." The Suprainister finishes, rising, "I will see you later Minister Izalian, I shall be in my chambers until we land," with a polite nod he stalks out of the room with a billow of long tunic.

Izalian left to her own devices in the ready room sighs gently letting her head hang low as she brings her hands up to her face and sobs gently, why did this have to happen, it was even worse because she didn't even have her father there, he was dead, she didn't even know why he died, let alone how, it wasn't fair, why her, why did her father have to die, why him, why now? He'd only just beaten meningitis as well, why oh why she thought to herself deep in her tears. She would continue like that for an hour before collecting herself and retreating to her own quarters to clean herself up.

“Ensign how much longer till we enter Relorian Airspace?" called Captain Melvin from his perch at the command alcove, his brown hair poking out of his high brimmed cap he fixes the ensign with a look from his Veridian eyes.

“We’ll be entering momentarily sir,” comes the response from down in the pits.

“Who’s in charge of the guard anyway?” Melvin asks idly of his First Officer, who comments off-handedly, “Oh Commander Chara,” Instantly Melvin shoots up as if struck by lightening, “Not her, surely not her, she’s crazy.”

"Who’s Crazy?" The Woman herself would pose suggestively at the bridge entrance thrusting her chest forward fixing the Captain with a smile as she pads forward to his chair before with feline grace swinging round the back of the chair landing into the Captain’s Waiting and unwilling arms, “Oh Captain your such a kidder,” as she wraps her hands around the Captains head and embraces him, thrusting her chest into his face, “Now Captain I want to go faster, I want to see Reloria so hurry up, Ensign, Full speed ahead,”

Melvin would grimace from behind the prodigious Cleavage idly reflecting to himself, If she doesn’t like it she can get off and walk, I hopes she does, sighing he calls out somewhat muffled from behind the breast “Do as she says ensign, full speed,” pausing to mutter under his breath, “The sooner we get there the sooner I can get this woman off my ship,”

“Oh Captain you do know how to please a Woman, and turn up the Air Conditioning, I’m so hot, My body is so hot, so hot, I’m burning in here.” With a final chest thrust she vaunts off the captain landing on her feet and throwing out her vivid hair with a flourish to bounce her way off the bridge, leaving the captain much deflated, “That Chara, she acts as if she owns one big breast,” he stops suddenly realizing his mistake before correcting himself, “No she acts as if she owns the place, I feel sorry for the Suprainister, at least she didn’t use that whip of hers. How on earth she’s managed to become a Commander I’ll never know,” he looks up and sees the entire crew staring at him before standing up indignant, “Well what are you all standing around for, get the Air Conditioning turned up, I don’t want that woman back on my bridge again, you there, Lieutenant, inform the Relorian Air traffic Control we’ll be arriving early."

The Great Jindrax Skyfortress would pick up speed as Energy levels from it’s Tesla Generator were thrust into the engines causing the great sky ship to accelerate, as they began their final approach to the airport, Hijir bearing banners emerged waving them with much pomp and ceremony, Tokons sang out a symphony of words as the ship prepared to touch down, and Belly mounted weapons retreated into their compartments, All crew members were at duty stations, outside the Hijir would touch down on top of the Jindrax standing like great Obsidian and Crimson Statues of ancient flagbearers, while Chara was jumping around in the landing bay bellowing out orders to her command, only 17 guards in all yet that didn’t stop her cracking her whip, “Keep moving, Your guarding the Suprainister, no slacking, you there present weapons,” pointing the butt of her whip at an unfortunate Lieutenant who promptly presented his rifle with near perfect rifle, smirking Chara cracks her whip flicking a tiny fragment of dirt off the Rifle, “Clean it,” before turning to stalk over to the other side of the somewhat cramped yet seemingly spacious bay. Intent on Greeting the Relorian who would inevitably approach.

Secretary of State Arvin smiled as his aircraft landed at Mukasus City airport, it's pure white frame sliding rapidly to a halt on the runway. He nodded to his wife as he moved towards the exit. "Let's hope that these Relorians are not too shocked by your outfit, Jenny." – he chuckled as the door of the plane opened outwards with a low, ominous hum.

Secretary Arvin himself was, of course, a marvel of diplomatic fashion – a three-piece suit, a tie that cost more then some people's cars do, slick designer shoes, the works. A platinum-plated watch glinted slightly in the morning sun, and the man's haircut looked – just as everything else – impeccable. As he descended, a small crew of reporters and assistants – not more then ten, in total – emerged from the craft. They looked less like diplomats and more like a moving circus.

Jennifer Arvin, his wife, advanced with a royal smile, a fourteen-year old boy next to her. The boy was dressed in deliberately-torn jeans and a colored t-shirt, while the woman – rather obviously not his mother – wore a tight pink latex miniskirt with a bunnytail and fitting bunny ears, her upper body fitted in a black, tight latex shirt.

The assistants were equally weirdly dressed – one in a Trek-TNG uniform with a glittering communicator badge, one in a metal-studded leather jacket and a mane of bright orange hair, one in cowboy leather pants and a shirt with the face of General Lee on it, and one with a white T-shirt bearing the words Ask me about erotic suspension.

The diplomatic assistants were comparatively mild – they were wearing three piece suits – colored in all the shades of the rainbow.

As he surveilled the effect his followers had on the faces of the Relorians, James Kayle Arvin grinned and said:

"Well, hello."

~~~

Agent Ollari was cold. Literally. She had always been a 'heat' person, someone who could not tolerate temperatures below twenty degrees celcius without shivering and complaining, and so standing out in this early morning breeze was not her idea of fun. The sooner these foreigners arrived, the better for her. She paced along the length of the nearby limousine, clicking her heels against the soaked concrete impatiently.

She stopped for a moment and gazed across the virtually empty concrete expanse, over which hung an eerie mist, a remnant of the rainfall they had endured. She noticed several other planes had already arrived, being tended to by her colleagues already. Lucky for them; they got to go inside soon. Her quarry was still being taxied into its parking space. she watched the white aircraft intently as it landed, slowed down, and began to slowly move in her direction. She began to pace again as the aircraft slowly moved across the vast expanse towards its final destination.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the plane came to a halt. Soldiers swarmed in from seemingly nowhere and did their 'thing', before withdrawing just out of sight. A mobile stairway was manoeuvred into position beside the front door, allowing the occupants to disembark.

The first to emerge seemed fairly generic so far as diplomats went, nothing surprising to her, though enough to be uncomfortable with. She frowned as his cohorts followed.

"By the Goddess..." she muttered, sighing inwardly. Why do I always get the weird ones? she thought to herself. I must start visiting the Shrine more often... Suddenly she forgot how cold she felt.

Nevertheless, she straighted her jacket and her insanely straight ponytail and walked over to them. She placed her hand against her chest in salute, eying them all suspiciously.

"Welcome to the Constitutional Matriarchy of Reloria," she said sternly, nodding in response to the Secretary's own greeting. She instinctively wanted to address the female of the group, though, she wasn't quite sure what species the female actually was. They would have to ensure she didn't get near any Shrines while she was here.

"You are Secretary of State Arvin from Allanea... I... hope? The government of Reloria expresses their humbled gratitude by your visit here. I am Agent Ollari, assigned to your protection by the Relorian Security Agency. If you have any questions, or need anything else, such as replacement clothing or anything of that nature... feel free to ask me, please. Are you ready to depart? Will all of your companions be accompanying you?"

He smiles and nods as he enters the limo, leaning to the side against the door just slightly to be comfortable afterwards. "Allright..that is not very long...perfect." Martens remained there staring off the window once he was done speaking, watching the world pass by faster as they started to accelerate. He rubs the back of his neck slightly and smiles quietly as he waits for the other 19 minutes to pass. He had no hurry. It was quite the comfortable place to be. He wondered what he'd say to the Matriarch once he was there...he hadn't come for any reason, he just wanted to meet new places. "Maybe I'll just tell 'er that." - He thought, and eventually sunk into his thoughts, his mind drifting away.

Arvin nodded with a smile. “Yes indeed. The People of Allanea have indeed entrusted me with this high honor. This is my wife, Jennifer, and my little nephew, Victor, -“ he pointed at the child. “These are the assistants to provide your leaders with all the necessary information about Allanea they should require – you understand how this is necessary.”

Jennifer smiled in a semi-erotic fashion, winking at the Relorian official like a character of Teens Gone Wild N+1. “Hello, honey.” – she said in a deep, sensuous voice. I’m Jake’s wife… if you ever come to Allanea, drop us a call.” – and she gave the official her calling card.

In the meanwhile, the reporters were already getting their cameras ready, shutters clicking at an insane rate as they took pictures of the landscape, the cars, and the Relorians.

Arvin nodded in their direction. “And these are the Press.” – one could almost feel the capital P in his speech – “They are also quite necessary – they report the discussion, if any should take place, to three newspapers and two major blogs back in Allanea – all the better to serve the People, don’t you know. So, where are we going?”

(( OOC: To save time, and... well, sanity, use this post (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showpost.php?p=10549773&postcount=16) to get information on what you'd see driving from the airport to the Palace. Your guys can ask questions or whatever after arrival if they have any. ))

~~~

Ollari frowned at the woman, unsure of what to do with the card she had just been handed. She slipped it into her jacket pocket for now, gesturing towards the limo.

"We are to join a convoy which will head straight down the main highway, through the heart of Mukasus City and to the Grand Relorian Palace," Ollari said. "It's a few miles, but it is a fairly direct journey that should only take twenty to thirty minutes without any traffic. We will pass by some sites of interest on the way -- the Grand Shrine, business districts and the like -- so it's not an entirely uninteresting trip. If you like that sort of thing, anyway. Please, after you."



The Allanean car joined the convoy of other vehicles as they left the airport, carrying the leaders and representatives from the various nations which had arrived thus far. After a few minutes of driving down narrow lanes they reached the wide, slightly raised highway, and ratcheted up to top speed. Black unmarked saloons surrounded the limos, presumably armoured also, keeping pace with them for the entire duration of the journey. They passed by the distinct and unmistakable Grand Shrine, which towered over the highway, passed straight through the centre of the main, glistening business district, with its various parks and skyscrapers, and pulled off the highway as they approached a small hill in the distance. Making their way through some high-class residential areas they reached the steep hill and made their way up, towards the brilliant white Grand Palace. No other (active) vehicles had been seen throughout the journey, and the overhead railways seemed dormant.

The Security Agency cars pulled away from the limos as they entered the grounds of the Palace, either no longer needed or simply unwanted. The limos formed a queue of no particular order, stopping beside the main entrance to the Palace to let their passengers off, before driving away to find a place to park until needed again.

The main entrance was quite elegant. The road was made from gravel, surrounded by healthy, well-cut grass and early-flowering plants. Opposite the main wooden doors, with their marble frame and golden highlights, was an enormous marble fountain, with numerous waterfalls and streams conspiring to create a cascade of water into the pool below. By now the sun was a little higher in the sky, though everything was still quite wet.

Ministeress Jenn Pichi stood outside the doors in her typically unimaginative suit, along with numerous aides and security guards who stood to the sides. For each foreign national that arrived, she bowed (rather than giving them a traditional Relorian greeting, which may not have been appropriate to all) and gave them each the same 'welcome to Reloria, I am Ministeress Pichi...' greeting, allowing the Relorian press to take snapshots of her with each foreign national as she did so. The agents assigned to each group stood to one side, talking amongst themselves.

As the Emperor's Lear jet touched down in Reloria, he was a bit nervous. It had been a long time since he had personally attended one of these functions, and hoped that his hastily-gone-over ettiquite refresher would hold him in good stead.

He was also aware of his rather small retinue. The last time he represented Xeraph at a state dinner he had brought along a full platoon of Royal Marines and two HCGSs in addition to his two "friends" that accompanied him today. His "friends" had shown him that any protection other than themselves was superfluous.

As the jet pulled to a stop, Alaric strolled down the stairs to a waiting limo. Just before climbing in, he motioned to his two guards. He then turned and entered the limo with Major Kho and Lt. Gen. Az'ilt'a. The guards were nowhere to be seen.

"Ah, here we are then...." He smiles, walking out of the door and taking two steps before stopping, breathing in the air with a smile as he looks around him towards his surroundings and adjusts his uniform a little bit. He sees the water fountain and steps a bit closer, watching it for several moments. Then he remembers. "Oh. That's right. Diplomacy." And he turns promptly, slightly resembling a soldier when he did and walking onwards. His head bows slightly and once again he uses respectfully one of the very few Relorian phrases he learned two days before arriving. "Good Day Ministeress." as he walks past naturally, like he was taking a stroll in a park. Once inside he'd think to myself. "Hmm, what do we have here...?" as he sees the other leaders.

The Emperor's limo proceeded up the driveway, the crunching gravel a welcome sound to his ears. His own retreat high up in the mountains of the Duchy of Valtane was similar to this place. Very peaceful and pleasent. All tensions seemed to melt away as they pulled up to the front door.

The driver hurried around to open the door for the Xeraphians, but they were already halfway out by the time he got there. Which was just as well, because had he gotten there before the Emperor got out, he would in all probability been dead.

The Emperor's guards were called Brujah. They were technically citizens of the Xeraphian subject-nation of Vhammpyr, but they called no one but Alaric 'Master'. They were about seven-and-a-half feet tall, clad entirely in a grey, heavy wool hooded robe which hung to the ground. They had a curious gliding motion when they moved. The only visible part of their body were their hands: three fingers with an opposed thumb. They were more like the talons of an eagle or panther than a human hand. The hood of the robe concealed their faces, which was undoubtedly a good thing. More than one person had fainted dead away at the sight of the features of a Brujah.

As soon as the Emperor stepped out of the limo, the Brujah were there beside him. They were actually turning towards the driver when Alaric signalled the Brujah to let him be. Had the driver taken another step, he would have been writhing on the ground in unimaginable pain, blood pouring from every opening of his body, screaming out his life in a most horrible manner.

As Alaric stood in the beautiful morning sunlight, he glanced around at the arrivees and the officials, wondering which one was the Ministeress Pichi. A low gutteral word to the Brujah and they all moved toward the door.

Tetley nodded politely as he ducked his head to entered the limo, why thank you, madam. As the door shut soundly behind the Prime Minister Robertson flashed a smile at the single Prime Minister – who shot back an ice-cold glare. Shortly afterwards Agent Rissa joined the three in the limo and without a sound to the guests it accelerated off on its way to the Palace.

As the limousine sped through the city, Tetley sat calmly in his seat with his head turned towards the darkened windows, gazing out at the cleanliness that seemed to characterize the capital of Reloria. Reminiscent of Philadelphia, wouldn’t you say, Howard?

Indeed, sir. Very clean and appearing very efficient.

Though, Tetley responded with a glance at his escort, with all due respect, of course, one would never see a city in the UK quite this quiet, even for a state visit. Tetley then smiled, which I assure you and your government, madam, has made this trip thus far quite relaxing and enjoyable.

The limo continued onwards towards the Palace and the delegation from the United Kingdom continued to absorb as much of the sights as were visible through the windows of a single car upon a single route. Eventually the group felt a change in orientation as the vehicle began its climb up the steep hill and with great anticipation masked with the professional calm of a political expert Alistair Tetley shifted his tie and straightened the glasses that rested so delicately upon his nose.

Finally, the doors swung open and Tetley swung his legs out and pushed himself upwards where he stood among fellow leaders, some entirely unlike him as warriors while others seemed the consummate politicians – a class to which Tetley belonged. Nevertheless, Tetley seemed wholly diminutive amongst the crowd, and to the politically unaware it could well appear that Tetley’s taller woman companion could be his superior when in effect the Foreign Secretary was several pegs below the rank of Prime Minister. But with quiet confidence he took his place among the line of leaders and bowed just slightly more profusely than the Ministeress in deference to her role as host.

As Pichi gave her standard greeting, Tetley smiled politely before responding.

On the behalf of His Majesty King George and as the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, I would like to personally thank your government for hosting this event.

Tetley noted the sheer formality of the introductions and then quietly moved himself along in the line allowing the next dignitary to be introduced. As he entered the Palace he noted with a serene look upon his face the majesty of the architecture and its trappings and while different from the English colonial sensibilities of his own country and the palaces of the Crown those in Reloria were no less impressive and astonishing.

OOC: Sorry. Had the flu.

"I thank you for your service." The Emperor said with a bow of the head as he moved forward with his group, "This is my bodyguard, General, and lifelong friend Karth Grimoire. The younger ones are my youngest children, Zack and Zera Yurka. I would have liked to bring my older son and daughter, but of course that would be impossible in the current state of this world."

As he spoke out their names, Zack and Karth broke into slight bows, as Zera simply gave a wave. Once the formalities were once done, the group slowly entered the limousine, as Drake gave a simple gesture to his guards, whom remained behind; they would meet up with the group later. Once inside he sat back and smiled as he looked over the beautiful landscape, leaning back comfortably once he was in the car with only his family and the diplomat.

"I feel that despite our differences, Yurka and Reloria are not that different." Drake finally chimed in as he looked out the window, getting a few strange looks from the others, "We were both founded by religion and women, and are both willing to do what we need to do. Originally I had intended for my daughter to carry on after me, though like I've said, such a thing is no longer possible, so the power has been shifted onto my oldest son... Though if I live long enough, I would rather give the power to my twins."

Zack and Zera remained quiet during most of the trip, not paying much attention as their father spoke to them. They'd never seen such a prestine landscape before, and the people looked so different than those of Yurka. There seemed to be some sort of spark in the way they did things, some sort of enigma of energy which the typical Yurkan didn't have.

As they finally came to the palace, Karth quietly opened the door for the Emperor and his children and stepped out cautiously. Once the Emperor and his entourage had stepped out, there was a slight gasp of exhilleration upon seeing their destination. Though Drake and Karth remained quiet, the youngest two seemed a bit taken back.

"This is nice." Zera finally stated in a laidback tone as Zack replied with an, "Mhm." The two seemed to be a bit off, unable to do what they'd like to while their father was watching them.

President's arrival, 14:59.58 Standard Maraquen Time

"Demarco! Get off that couch right this instant!" shouted Darius Shulze to his son, who was jumping up and down on the leather sofa inside the lush and elegant Imperial II's interior.

"But daddy I'm bored. We've been on this plane for several hours!"

"You will just have to deal with it, Demarco. We'll be there soon enough." said the President.

The President had to admit it to himself, the long flight was getting to him too.

"Sir," said his aide, "we will be landing soon."

"Thank you Patrick," said the king.

***
The plane eventually landed at Mukasus International. The President and his family stepped off Imperial II flanked by a dozen Imperial Marines and entered the waiting Bentley Arnage RL limousine to the event.

***
King's arrival, 15:01.42 Standard Maraquen Time

"Stephen, how do you suppose we go about this? These people are we going to be among are not stupid individuals. They will soon realize that we're both males... and that we're a couple." Keith Norris said to his husband, King Stephen Norris.

"These individuals are also heads of state, dignitaries, representatives, etc. If they were to cause a stir during this event simply based on the fact that we are a couple would be prepostrous. I have faith in my fellow man that they will treat us with the respect we deserve." Stepen bellows, assuring his husband that everything will be all right.

"Yeah, dad, like, don't worry. I think everything will be a O.K!" said their son, Viktor.

***

Minutes after Imperial II landed at Mukasus International, the second plane of the party finally arrived in Reloria.

"This is such a beautiful country!" said Keith.

"This is so totally better than your country dad!" said Viktor

"Yes indeed Viktor it is..." said Stephen with a half-serious-half-sarcastic tone to his voice. He too, underestimated the vision of the country he had, as they stepped inside the waiting Bentley Continental Flying Spur, flanked by several dozen Imperial Marines.

~~~

Jenn eyed the man suspiciously as he wandered around, observing everything as though he were a child in a sweet store. His knowledge of Relorian was quite surprising to her, though she doubted he spoke the language fluently, nor that he would be any more welcoming of a traditional greeting any more than the others. She simply nodded to him formally.

"Good day, Kaiser," she said. "Impressive that you have learned some Relorian; I was under the impression that it was a fairly obscure language beyond our borders. Well, it is certainly a pleasure to see you here today, welcome. Please, head inside when you are ready..."

She nodded once again, and watched the man saunter off casually towards the doors.

The main lobby had been seen before by outsiders thanks to the first press conference they had recently held there. A marble floor with white wooden panels on the walls, a wide, curved staircase with a red carpet down the centre, elegant gold and silver railings and fixtures dotted all over, a few old paintings of previous rulers from centuries ago... women in suits stood ready at the sides with plates of various drinks and snacks for their well-travelled visitors to choose from if they were hungry or thirsty.



~~~

Jenn turned away from the Kaiser as he disappeared into the lobby, and looked over at the next batch of... well, Xeraphians. She had no idea what manner of creatures accompanied the Emperor, though she was certain that they weren't entering the Palace when she saw the way they looked at the driver as she merely went about her duties.

"Emperor Alaric, I presume?" she said regardless, and bowing her head. "It is an honour to finally meet you, welcome to Reloria. I trust your journey was without incident?"

She stepped to one side, gesturing towards the doorway.

"Please, proceed into the main lobby when you are ready," she said. "We can talk again later on."



~~~

Agent Rissa remained quite silent during the journey, leaving the important passengers to talk amongst themselves as she sent off a few text messages to her family, who were by now no doubt setting off for their local shrine. She turned a moment after they mentioned the silence, pointing out the Grand Shrine as they passed it.

"The whole country will be fairly inactive for most of today, it is quite an important national holiday," she told them. "But as you can see, the Shrines will all be quite populated regardless, this one especially." Upon squinting one could just about see many people bustling around in the main courtyard, all queuing to get into the most important holy building in the country.

The vehicle kept going, and arrived at the Palace. Jenn nodded at the Prime Minister stiffly as he spoke to her.

"It is a distinct honour to have you here, Prime Minister," she nodded in return. "Thank you for attending here today, it is greatly significant to us. I hope your journey was comfortable. I apologise if it seems like a... production line, but we had no idea that so many would choose to visit us. Please, proceed into the lobby when you are ready."



~~~

Agent Herral relayed the introductions of the Yurkans to Ministeress Picho, almost as though it were a chore, nodded to them, and then wandered over to join the growing group of agents.

"It is an honour to have you in Reloria, Emperor Yurka," Jenn said, bowing her head. She cast a glance over the younger members of the party and then looked back at the Emperor. "Will your children be needing anything while they are here? We will be happy to provide anything they need. Please, proceed inside at your convenience."



~~~

Agent Yass stood ready and waiting by the limosuine, which would have to join up with the convoy rather soon after the arrival of the Novacoms. Yass was unsure of who exactly was aboard, as she knew very little of Novacom and its political structure. All she knew was that they were arriving on something labelled a 'sky fortress', which didn't inspire feelings of safety and security in her. Uneasy at the presence of an armed foreign aircraft, several Typhoons from a nearby military airbase waited ready in a hangar, just in case. She ran her hand through her short cut hair nervously as soldiers pulled up nearby in preparation.

The vessel finally landed, and the usual checks were made before whoever was on board was allowed to disembark. Yass stepped foward as soon as she saw people emerge.

"I am Agent Yass of the Relorian Security Agency," she announced herself. "The Relorian Government bids you greetings and welcomes you here."

" Excuse me, Jenn. It appears that you are a bit apprehensive about my bodyguards. Their sole reason for existence is to protect me. There was nothing your driver did that was out of order, but whenever anyone approaches within ten feet of me, they assume a defense position. No offense to you or anyone else here was intended.

If you think that my guards are innapropriate for this gathering, I can have them remove themselves to an inconspicuous location. There is actually no need for them to be so close to me. If there ever were a real danger to myself, they would be at my side in less than one second.

Again, I apologise for any discomfort I may have caused you."

The Allanean ambassador looked at the Yurkans with a small bit of disdain – the kind an Allanean would be expected to feel to a Yurkan. Not only did the Allaneans consider their social structure far superior to what Yurka had, but they had defeated the Yurkan military in two wars – in one, destroying the entire of Yurka-City with only slightly over a thousand troops lost, and in another, having the Boy Scouts of Allanea rout a joint Yurkan-Feline airborne deployment. Now, the Yurkans were considered cowardish, barbaric, and evil – mostly cowardish and barbaric.

Arvin turned to the Relorian diplomat. “So, I have a few interesting proposals for your government... who do I show them to?”

OOC: See telegram.

Martens smiled and simply picked a snack which he ate elegantly as he continued with his way, looking around more calmly now. "Hmm, excellent" saying after he was done with the mentioned snack. For a moment he looked back to those paranoid bodyguard people, blinking and then mentally shrugging to himself and thinking. "Well, some people like feeling really safe.."

President and King's arrival to the palace

After the short drive from the airport the two vehicles carrying the President and King of Maraque arrived in front of the Grand Palace.

The President exited the vehicle first, flanked by four Imperial Marines, followed by his wife, two children and his aide.

The second vehicle pulled up and the King exited the vehicle flanked by six Imperial Marines, followed hesitantly by his husband and son.

The Emperor barely took notice of the Allaneans, though he could tell who they were from tales of his grandfather. Warmongerers through and through, they were singulary responsible for the Empire's staunch distrust of Democracies. After the nuclear destruction of their capital by Allanea and her swarm of allies, they had learned much, and had recently taken up a much stronger posisition in the world.

"Ah, Matriarch Zelella Rocca, truly the honour is all mine." The Emperor said with a sincerer smile, bowing his head as he looked at the large building in front of him, "Reloria truly is looked over fondly by your goddess, as never in my life have I seen such a stunning example on what a Democracy should be. I can safely say, that after seeing all of this as it is, this trip was truly worth it."

The Emperor slowly turned to his children and sighed, "No no, thats quite alright. I wouldn't want to trouble you, if they need anything, they will tell my bodyguards upon their arrival. There should only be four of them, and of course to make you feel more at ease, they are carrying non-lethal weapons... I hope that will be alright? After all, they are members of my Royal Family, and some nations are rather... How should I put this, disrespectful enough to try to take advantage of times like these?"

By this point Zera had begun dragging the staid Karth inside of the building, leaving Zack to stand behind his father as he looked around hesitantly. He appeared to have something to important to say, and as the Emperor looked at him, laughing a bit as he patted the young man on the back. The young teenager simply sighed before opening his mouth to speak, in a butchered Relorian.

"H-how do you do Matriarch? Would it be alright for an escort to help me locate your restroom?" He said with an uneasy smile as his father looked on, not understanding the language as well as his son, who had crammed for it previously, "It was a rather long drive here."

"Hmm... Well Matriarch, I suppose I should check on my daughter and Karth to make sure they're alright. Please don't mind my son, hes not a very social person, though he makes up for it I suppose. Well, I bid you farewell, perhaps later we can speak about relations between our two nations?"

With that, and another bow, he turned and entered the building as well, leaving Zack standing there alone.

~~~

"That is quite alright," Jenn nodded. "But it would probably be for the best if they disappeared for a while. There is no sense in unnecessarily provoking their attentions further."



~~~

Jenn watched the Allanean ambassador, and his reaction to the Yurkans. The Yurkans did not appear to regard him in high esteem either. She had no knowledge of whatever relations existed between the two nation states, though she suspected they weren't all that affable. The two almost looked as though they intended to go a few rounds with each other. She made a mental note to keep an eye on them both as she listened to what Arvin said to her.

"I would be somewhat surprised if you didn't," she nodded to Arvin when he had finished. "Once all the dignitaries are inside, my mistress shall present herself and say a few words, and then you shall all be free to approach any of us to discuss whatever you wish."



~~~

Jenn looked away from the Allanean as the dignitaries of Maraque arrived, in two separate cars.

"President... Shulze, was it?" she inquired. So many names to remember today, and she was never the best person with names in the first place. She was still trying to remember the names of her fellow Council members. "It is a pleasure to see you here... and this must be your family. I look forward to speaking with you all later on. Please, enter the lobby when you are ready and we can get started."

She immediately nodded to the King as he approached.

"King Stephen Norris, it is an honour, welcome to Reloria," she said, bowing her head slightly. "And is that your son? Good to see you also. When you are ready please follow your Prime Minister into the lobby so that we can begin."



~~~

OOC: :p The Matriarch is not yet present, she will be greeting all of the representatives shortly once everyone is inside, so I shall just assume your people were speaking to the Foreign Ministeress.

IC:

"Thank you Emperor," Jenn nodded. "Whether or not a goddess has anything to do with it I cannot say, but I am quite pleased with our accomplishments thus far. I am glad that you are enjoying yourself. As your guards are members of your royal family they are of course perfectly welcome, though I assure you there is no need for such measures within our capitol. Violence is not something that we tolerate here. I look forward to seeing you later on, Emperor. I am sure the Matriarch is most eager to speak with you."

She bowed her head to the Emperor, and then glanced down at Zack as he spoke, and nodded.

"Certainly," she said, almost managing a smile, but... not quite. "Follow your father into the lobby, and ask one of the servers, they shall escort you to the nearest water closet."

bump

"I have been assigned to your safety for the duration of your stay here; feel free to badger me with any questions or requests you may have during your stay. If you would like to proceed down this staircase, your transportation awaits below."
‘Thank you, madam,’ replied the Chief Minister smoothly. ‘My colleagues and I will be sure to let you know if we have any concerns.’

With a flurry of his dark maroon cloak, Ertham Nidor descending quickly with the rest of his delegation to the waiting limousine below, whose engine purred quietly as the vehicle idled.

The trip to the Grand Imperial Palace was made largely without incident, and those Xirniumites who were seated near the windows of the vehicle took the unique opportunity to gaze at some of the sights of the Relorian capital. The Grand Shrine, in particular, was a marvellous and ornate structure, and Lady Sabelina found herself quite intrigued by its distinct architecture and imposing size.

‘Perhaps, Agent Jerrassi, it might be possible for us to arrange for a visit to this Grand Shrine of yours later on, its architectural design looks fascinating,’ explained the deputy Foreign Minister, deciding that her fleeting glimpse of the temple had not been enough to quench her curiosity. ‘How old is it? It seems to show several of the signature features of the baroque period…’

‘Quite a curious contrast from the gothic cathedrals of Xirnium,’ noted the Chief Minister, looking up from a folded copy of the Naerath Times which he had been skimming through. ‘No longer in use anymore, of course, they are purely historical monuments now, but very beautiful - magestic and dark,’ Lord Nidor quickly clarified for the Relorian security agent’s benefit, as he reasoned that she might be unaware that modern Xirnium was a predominately atheist nation.

For the greater part of the journey the Xirniumites were content to ignore the Relorians in the limousine and chatter quietly amongst themselves, chiefly about an “upcoming Caucus meeting” which Ms Jerrassi might dimly have recalled reading about in the international segment of the local newspapers. Most of what was said by the conversing Parliamentarians about party factions and voting deals went over the Relorian’s head, though she perceived that the conversation was ultimately about whom would succeed Lord Nidor as the leader of the Progressive Democracy Party.

‘Ahh, hear we are,’ declared the Chief Minister as he finally noticed the crunching of gravel under the car’s tires, perceiving the vehicle come gradually to a stop in front of the Relorian Palace. Once again, it seemed that the Xirniumites were running a little late, as most of the foreign dignatries had already greeted the Foreign Ministeress.

‘On behalf of the Eternal Republic of Holy Xirnium, and her august Sovereign Parliament, allow me to convey how deeply honoured we are to be your guests in the Constitutional Matriarchy of Reloria,’ announced Ertham Nidor with a smile upon meeting Ministeress Pichi. ‘Both I and the deputy Foreign Minister,’ explained the Chief Minister, indicating the Parliamentarian beside him, ‘look forward to forming strong and affable ties with your nation during the course of this visit.’

~~~


Jerrassi glanced over her shoulder as the Xirmiumites spoke up from their conversation, attracting her attention with a question.

"A visit?" she repeated ponderously. "Perhaps to some of the outer sections, yes. The inner sanctums are subject to some traditional requirements which may not... sit so well with some cultures. Ordinarily I'm sure the Priesthood would give some sort of short-term diplomatic immunity, as a favour to the government perhaps, but... not today, not with so many worshippers and pilgrims inside."

She turned away and spoke quietly with the driver for a second, and then looked back.

"I believe it to be about three or four hundred years old," she said, shrugging. "The site itself has been used for shrines for a very long time though. It is some kind of holy site, the supposed place where the goddess first spoke to her children, or so the tale goes, and people continue to report religious experiences whilst visiting the Shrine. It has been in the news quite a great deal lately actually. There are catacombs running deep underground that apparently date back thousands of years, and a handful of archaeologists have been allowed down there under some very strict conditions by the Priesthood, hoping to locate the tombs of some of the first matriarchs. As the Priesthood will not allow any infractions on any of the tombs, regardless of their age, I do not see what they hope to accomplish if they find them, but scientists will do as scientists do, I suppose. Anyway, it is a very old site. I have never actually been there myself; my own belief in the goddess is... lacking, somewhat. I hear it is a peaceful place, though."

"If you truly wish to visit the place, you are probably best speaking with one of the resident High Priests," she said. "They shall most difficult to reach today, but I'm sure a friendly request from the Matriarch will get someone running over to see you before the day is out, if you mention it to her. Your own buildings sound quite interesting, and I'm sure the Matriarch would be interested in seeing them for herself one day, so I'm sure she will try to accommodate your own requests if she can."

She turned back around in her seat after a few moments, the car long passed the Grand Shrine. Leaving the Xirmiumites to speak amongst themselves about things she had no knowledge of, she rested her head back in her seat and waited.



"Chief Minister Nidor, Secretary Sabelina," Jenn nodded to the two as they finished. "It is a distinct honour to finally meet you both in the flesh. I know the Matriarch is particularly pleased that you chose to visit us today. I hope that great things can be achieved between our two nations here. Please, proceed inside at your convenience, I believe she is planning to make her address to all the dignitaries shortly. I hope to see you both later on."



OOC: I've had some problems finding spare time lately, I'm sorry all, but I should be back to normal now. It's quite late now, so I shall make another post tomorrow when I have time.

Jenn looked around after the Xirniumites had entered the lobby. There were no other cars incoming, so it seemed unlikely that anyone else would be arriving for a while. She turned around began to walk towards the doors, her shoes crunching in the wet gravel until she stopped and nodded to the guards. The agents who had escorted the dignitaries to the palace walked behind her and inside as she spoke to the guards.

“Remain outside and maintain the current level of security,” she said to the highest ranking soldier. “Alert me the moment any others arrive here.”

“Yes, Ministeress,” the soldier said, nodding.

Jenn crunched her way to the doors and stepped inside, shutting the doors behind her with a thud that reverberated around the marble lobby. She turned and looked around, finding it unusual to see so many foreign leaders all milling around in the lobby of her place of work. Light streamed in through the frosted glass windows at the front, causing the white marble to glow and make the whole room seem brighter than it really was. The waitresses standing to the sides provided a handful of them with food and drink, and one of them had just escorted a child back from the rest room. They were all commendably patient, though remarkably each group seemed to keep to themselves for the time being.

Jenn nodded to several of the dignitaries as she made her way through the crowd and to the stairs, quickly jogging up the curved staircase. She stepped in through the doors at the top of the staircase, almost knocking Matriarch Zelella over as she opened them. She quietly shut the door and looked at her, as the Matriarch cocked her head and frowned.

“Matriarch, I believe there are no further arrivals for the immediate future,” Jenn said to her. “Anyone else arriving late will have to be greeted individually. They are all in the lobby waiting.”

“Thank you Jenn,” Zelella said, smiling. “Have you been your usual warm self?”

“I have retained my professionalism, if that is what you are suggesting,” Jenn nodded.

“I never doubted it for a moment,” Zelella smirked. “Come, let's get this over with.”

“I thought you were the mind behind all this?” Jenn questioned her, confused.

“Well, yes, but that doesn't mean I don't have nerves,” Zelella shrugged.

Jenn stepped aside and opened the door for her, and she stepped out and looked around. So many important people in such a small space. A wide variety of people, from a wide variety of cultures, with a wide variety of political systems. It would likely be as much of a learning experience as a political one. She gulped, tugged her earthy-brown jacket straight, pulled her hair back and stepped forwards, making her way down the stairs.

“Hello, everybody,” she said after clearing her throat quietly. Her usually-light Relorian accent which tainted her flawless English seemed slightly more prominent than usual today, possibly a result of having little sleep the night before. “Welcome, I hope you all had a relaxing journey. I am Zelella Rocca, Matriarch of Reloria, and on behalf of the people and the govermnent of Reloria I'd like to say that we are greatly honoured that so many national leaders, from so many august and distinguished countries, have seen fit to visit our humble nation on this very important day. Some of you I already know, others... I look forward to meeting. But all are welcome! Now, we did not intend for this to be a formal event for us all to stand on ceremony, but rather an informal gathering, relaxed and comfortable. Just so we can discuss whatever issues are on our minds with each other, get to know each other and our respective cultures and traditions, and generally improve the relationships between our governments.”

“To that end, if you would all kindly follow myself and Ministeress Pichi,” she said in a different tone, and gestured towards Jenn who now stood beside her, arms behind her back stiffly. “Who I believe you have all met already. We can head to the main drawing room, which is much more comfortable.”

With that, she and Jenn stepped down from the staircase and entered an open doorway on the left of the room, national leaders in tow like a bizarre school field day. They passed through a series of fairly wide corridors, each sharing the overall design theme of the palace's interior, some with large portraits or other historical artefacts. It was only a short walk before they reached the drawing room, which was comfortably furnished and easily large enough to grant the large crowd sufficient space to mingle. The large windows which offered a view of the enclosed courtyard outside allowed the early-morning sunlight to cast a warm glow over most of the room, warming it noticeably. It was a very homely room.

“Please, make yourselves at home,” Zelella said after speaking quietly with one of the waitresses. “If you need anything, a drink or a snack, the waitresses will be happy to help you.” Zelella had already somehow managed to get a hold of a glass of red wine. A fairly unremarkable glass, though it had an unusually long stem, which judging from some of the crystal-ware on display in one of the wall cabinets was the norm here.

Alaric was enjoying himself immensely. Great conversation, many notable personages. This nation of Reloria was a class act.

He bowed, then said, " Matriarch Rocca, permit me to introduce myself. Alaric Tan'it, Emperor of the Xeraphian Empire. I wish to complement you on such a beautiful setting. The grounds, the architecture, the peaceful setting......it is such a pleasure to be here."

"Emperor, I have heard much of you, I am pleased to meet you," she said, smiling and bowing her head. "I am glad you are enjoying yourself, though your thanks should really go to the gardeners and the maintenance staff who have kept this place in its present condition for many years. I would imagine that your own capitol is very impressive, perhaps one day I shall see for myself? Would you like a drink, Emperor? A glass of wine perhaps?"

" Well, Madame Matriarch, our capitol is a bit different than most. As you may be aware, there are no buildings in Xeraph more than one story high above ground. The other stories extend down, underground anywhere from four to eleven stories.

Xeraph currently has only five cities, which we call Royal Cities. Tarascus, Khemi, Tarantia, Khoraja, and the capitol, Xeraphia. All exist for one function.....diplomacy. The Royal Cities are comprised of embassies from other nations. The citizens who live in Xeraph are employed as servants to the international community. The other residents of Xeraph are the military. At present, there are about 63 million men and women in the armed forces stationed in Xeraph. The rest are scattered throughout the world. Our diplomatic corps number 1.5 million, with the bulk of Xeraphian citizenry located in other nations of the Empire and off-world.

Getting back to Xeraphia, the only building that is taller than one story is what we call The Obelisk. It extends 2,144 feet straight up, and serves no funtion other than for me to meet foreign dignitaries. At the top is a single room, 30 feet by 30 feet, comfortably outfitted. There is no way to get into the room except by being TransBeamed there.

As I am an avid gardener, when there's time, the grounds of all the cities are, in my humble opinion, spectacular. And, since no vehicles are permitted within the city grounds, the peace and quiet is remarkable. And yes, your'e right. It is the army of gardeners that we should thank for the consistent beauty they provide."

Alaric paused for a second. " Madame Matriarch, I would be honored at some time in the near future if you would visit Xeraph. You would be only the fourth head of state to do so, the others being Eric Valtane of Verboten Lufftewaffe, President Branham of Jarridia, and Duchess d'Avignon-Elyrie of Elyria-Lorain. Oh, and yes, a glass of white wine would taste great right about now."

~~~

Zelella beckoned to one of the waitresses, who came over and handed the Emperor a glass of white wine, before retreating back into the crowd.

"I've never been one for white wine, but I believe that is quite a sweet variety... 1983 Nerissa I think," she commented, shrugging. "Anyway, your cities sound quite fascinating, we must work something out at some point. I do have a query though... why do your people prefer to spend so much time underground? Such a thing seems quite unusual to me."

" With the use of holoscapes, our citizens enjoy sun, surf, forests, mountains and fresh air.........all within the confines of their apartments. As they travel to work at their assigned embassy, they are treated to scenes preprogrammed by the city's mainline computers. They may be sixty to ninety feet underground, but they have the sense of the great outdoors.

Thats not to say that we don't encourage our citizens to avail themselves of the REAL outdoors. Many, many citizens, and ambassadorial staffers, quite often trek through Xeraph's numerous forests, valleys, and mountain ranges. Or they ski, swin, and fish in our pristine lakes, rivers, and reservoirs.

One thing I should mention.....aside from military vehicles, there are no private cars or trucks in Xeraph. They were outlawed 122 years ago by common agreement. Why pollute the environment with fossil fuel when everyone can beam from place to place?"

"It is quite the pleasure to meet you Ms. Rocca," said the Maraquen King, "this is one, if not the, most beautiful nations I have ever visited. I've always had a fascination for different cultures, especially yours."

"Aa, allow me to introduce myself, Lady Matriarch." He says as they made their way, catching up to her side and smiling warmly. "Good day" (Those two words in Relorian) "I am Kaiser Martens, of Silberunion. However due to the informal nature of this greeting I suppose that you can just call me Michel? Whichever the case is, Lady Matriarch, it is a honor to be here in such a special day, and I hope that I get to learn more about both your culture and your language, with time." His head bows gently, showing his respect, though he speaks of course with an air of dignity, yet never pride.

~~~

"Yes, I have heard of this from Ambassador Iluvi," Zelella nodded. "It is one way of cutting down pollution, I suppose. I still cannot get used to the idea of living underground though. How did this come to be? Was it to escape a war or some natural disaster? Apologies for asking so many questions, but... it is quite unusual to me."

~~~

"The pleasure is ours, King Norris," Zelella said, smiling and bowing her head. "Thank you for your compliments. I would like to return them, though I am afraid I know unfortunately little about the culture or appearance of Maraque. I do believe that we do not even have an active embassy program exchange at present. I suppose that now is a good time to address these issues, though. I'd be fascinated to hear about your own culture, to start with. Is there anything I should be aware of, before I inadvertently offend you?"

~~~

"Ah, Kaiser Martens... Michel, as you wish," she smiled. "I see you have taken the time to learn some of our words, I am most honoured. And quite impressed; I had no idea that Relorian was an accessible language beyond our borders so early. I wish I could have returned the favour, though... I was always terrible at learning new languages I am afraid. We are pleased to host you, and your counterparts also, here today. I too hope that it will be a constructive meeting for us all."

"Yes, I have heard of this from Ambassador Iluvi," Zelella nodded. "It is one way of cutting down pollution, I suppose. I still cannot get used to the idea of living underground though. How did this come to be? Was it to escape a war or some natural disaster? Apologies for asking so many questions, but... it is quite unusual to me."


" Well, m'lady, the answer is part history and part preference.

Years ago, when we entered what was to become the Kingdom of Xeraph, we found semi-civilized tribes and clans living in the extensive cave-system that was prevalent throughout the land. After we consolidated the tribes and clans into a single nation, we noticed two things: the citizen's preference for underground dwellings, and the pristine beauty of Xeraph. I determined to maintain that pristine quality and retain our citizens living preferences.

With the advent of holographic technologies, we were able to give our citizens the best of both worlds.

As a sort of a 'left-handed' advantage, having all of our manufacturing facilities on another planet makes us less of a target than most nations are used to being."

snip"Maraque was founded nearly 500 years ago on the planet Harth by a group of natives of the planet. They are dark in complexion much like the people of the African continent on Earth.

They originated in a continent called Curona which was the capital in it's earlier years. As the years went on, many of them went to sea to find other lands to form colonies. These would become the lands of Maraque, Atrons, Westhampton, York Island, Hythoria, Darkaan, The Coronian Islands, Hamburgh, Ankartha, Central Maraque, West Maraque, Addeis Abaus, Zureich, and Brennerbourgh.

Currently only Maraque, Atrons, Curona, Westhampton, and York Island are official provinces of the Kingdom. The rest will become provinces in due time, and they are still dependent upon us.

The landscape of Maraque very different depending on the continent you are visiting in. For example; Westhampton is the southern most region, the average temperature is -50°F. The land is surprisingly flat and quite a few people live in that region believe it or not.

Maraque is the central continent of the planet; it has vast central plains, and mountainous regions in the north. The average temperature is about 50-75°F and can be as much as 85-120°F in the southern coastal area. The coastal towns are full of life and is the spot of hundreds of millions of tourists each year.

There is no one culture in Maraque, because in recent years people from thousands upon thousands of countries moved here and became legal citizens. The native Maraquens make up approximately 2.4 billion people... non-native legal citizens make this total over 11 billion."

OOC: I apologise for the delay.

IC: A small group descended down the ramp, not making so much as a sound, the air whistled through their long black tunics with colored bands, the silence was unnerving, behind them skulked the bizarre Chara murmuring silently to her assembled soldiers.

At the forefront of the Delegation flanked by a man and woman was a tall young man, with dull blonde hair of medium length, swirled around gently in the wind, his viridian eyes were piercing, yet behind them lurked a burning fanaticism and an immense intelligence, his tunic, adorned with the 4 colors of the Novan Flag and wrought over with an infinitely delicate golden pattern clung to his tall form concealing the well muscles arms from view, he exuded an aura of confidence and mystery even as he looked casually round taking things in at a glance, his mind running every detail with practiced ease, He was Denteth Tolion, The Suprainister.

To his left was a tall man, his jet black hair streaked with silvers his face, set in an emotionless mask of casual disinterest, his barely lined face belying his entry into late age his brown eyes, their infinite depths to look into them the viewer would seemingly drown in their intensity, his Tunic fit him like a second skin, even amongst the other Novans he exuded confidence in the proceedings, this was second Nature to him, here walked Hugoro Sarestus, Foreign Minister of Novacom, to the far right was a woman, of long blonde hair in tight curls, sad cerulean eyes gentle features of a woman so recently wracked by sadness, yet her expression belied none of it, she was Minister Izalian Jhanhus the Novacom Defense Minister.

“I greet you, on Behalf of Novacom Agent Yass, I graciously accept your greetings and welcome,” Hugoro silkily replies, the words gliding off his tongue in unaccented English, his eyes appraising the young woman instantly, “you need not worry about the Hijir, they are mainly ceremonial, naturally because of current world events we could not allow our leader to travel without escort.” No sooner does he finish then the Hijir would enter back into the fortress large hangars.

“As is custom we have gifts for the Matriarch, if agreeable they will follow in convoy, and you may of course inspect and scrutanise them as to please your curiosity and allay any suspicions” finishing tactfully, behind him drive out a pair of jeep like vehicles, which causes Chara to spin round to coo, “Savas, Co’triggo Netronno ko'Zva ko'vre Supaster,” she finishes the unknown language, the Novan echoing cryptically throughout the air.

“We do apologize for our tardiness, the time differential is greater than we first thought,” Hugoro finishes, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth as he eyes up the antics going on in the background,

OOC: Just to let you all know that I haven't abandoned the forums; but my heart just isn't in it at the moment. A few things going on in my personal life that are pretty distracting, not the least of which is my mother going into hospital next week. I haven't left, I'm just taking a break. It would be a shame to abandon my nation as I put quite a bit of work into it in the short time I've been here.

OOC: OK then! This is pretty old now, but if any of you want to continue just say so.

OOC: Sure, I'm still interested.

OOC: Sure, I'm still interested.

OOC: Looks like it's just us then! I'll let you make the next move; I'm having a real case of writer's block trying to think of a response to your last post I'm afraid.

OOC: I'm still up for it as well lol, don't forget about me :)

OOC: I don't know what to write, lol.

OOC: I'm still up for it as well lol, don't forget about me :)

OOC: Hehe, OK. I just didn't want to write out any lengthy replies if it was all for nout, hence the headcount ;).

OOC: XIrnium is apparantly busy at the moment but give him a few days and he'll propably be up for it, I'll drop him a TG to check.

OOC: I am glad to see that you are back, Reloria. I am still interested in this RP, of course. Given time-constraint issues my replies might not be as frequent as I would like, but I will do my best.

As I understand it my politicians are just ambling around at the moment.

Glad to see that this thread is still active. Count me in periodically.

" So, m'lady Matriarch, what do Relorians do for fun?"