NationStates Jolt Archive

Timeless.

The Timeless one.

She who knows no age.

The great prophetess, who knows not the restrictions of time.

Unconquered by ages.

Her Children now rise and fall again.

Condemed to life, through joy and sorrow immesruable.



"My Twin lords, you must flee, the Enforcer Guard cannot hold back these fiends, you must go, now, before our defense crumbles." called out a brave man, frantically, casting his gaze at the indistinguishable nobles behind him, as he cast a fervent gaze at the great doors at the end of the vaunted hall, it's tapestries expanding the room seemingly forever.

"No Srihacul Veltes, we will not flee, we have come to accept our fate, we knew we would die here from a young age, cursed by birth to know our own death, but we will not Lie down and die a cowards death, Srihacul, bring swords and light the flame, we will die as tradition demands, with honor, bring light to us so our last moments may be seen with bright clarity." The words of the last of the twin emperors moved the Srihacul before he even realized it, the pair cut a solemn figure, they indeed had been doomed to death before their birth, the end of the dawn, for the day was here at last, the beginning of a new time, the end of the middle empire, yet, they sensed, that the middle empire was not yet finished, indeed they had pressed the war admirably, carving a great swath through the forces opposing them, they had earned the respect of their enemies, the enigmatic empire had surged forth from their hidden homelands, in this terrible war, and fought superior numbers to a halt, or so their enemy thought, for their numbers were equal, yet they thought their people the greater.

Folly.

The Middle empire had fought valiantly, the military under the care of Minister Krellzion had rode the crest of the technological advances, matching and surpassing their enemies at every step, yet the warring factions, of axis and allies had continued their fierce battles, and the Middle Empire was pulled yet further and further into the fray, attacked by the allies for their neutrality, their demands ignored, their dominance of the Atlantic, shattered, instead they resorted to moving to the far north, away from Novacom proper to keep their war alive, yet Axis had at first fought the people of the unknown country, and they too had fell back against this strange people, circumstance assailed the Palace of Unity, the Twin Emperors atop the Dual Thrones, accompanied by the Bonded Empresses had been thrust into an alliance against that of their choosing, to side with the axis, lest face 2 great enemies, yet this alliance would never truly hold by circumstance it had forged, and in circumstance it had fell, a kinship long forgotten, the union, the soviet union, a nation with links to the empire had offered a way out.

In the last days of that terrible war ceasefire had been made, the British, long-term rivals of the Novans, for empire had frequently been at odds with empire, grumbled under this arrangement, fond of seeing a dismemberment envisioned for the Reich, bestowed upon the Middle Kingdom, their desires thrashed by communist and capitalist alike, wary of prolonging the war further because of initial misunderstanding, of false pride and dangerous arrogance, yet in those last days the perpetuating force of war, a phantasm of the past was reborn again, the last of an ancient house, the house of Xalxon, Zundorian Kukonois, had set foot on a new path, a path leading back to the past, the ghost of rebellion made real once more, his followers had laid siege to the Palaces of Unity, in Kravirez, that noble city of old, in Tijivratz, the capitol of the distant Valjsguard, and finally in their current dwelling, the resplendent capitol, Novesia, the people had risen, decided in their hearts and minds, to never again revisit the past, yet the followers of Kukonois assailed the palaces, and forced their way within searching for the Twin Emperors, seeking to end the dynasty, to take the throne for his own.

In the city of Novesia great pillars of smoke billowed, and blood ran freely through the streets, in the cloudless sky, in the moonless night, a night where even the stars did not deign to shine, the people fought in the streets, fought in the under cities, fought in building street a park alike, the entire canyon city was at war, seeking to continue the present, to travel the journey, as the grandfathers said, well versed in their ancient history, as even they bore arms, the followers of Kukonois rallied, surging forth to the palace, yet near the Tower of Destiny, the home of the Council of Ministers, the people yet rallied even harder, in the lines many figures fought, many of the people recognized their own ministers fighting for the empire, with pistols and rifles, and some armed with 4 bladed sword, vukas, the ancient arm of times past.

"Fight on now my people, these traitors shall never harm you, we shall push them back, we shall know peace once more, TO FOREVER TO RETURN TO THE MIDDLE EMPIRE!" yelled a recognizable figure, the Suprainister ascendant, Malo Tolion, a fierce fire of patriotism and rage burning in his viridian eyes, wielding the vukas in his left and a pistol in the right he charged forth as one with the people together at the surging horde of infidelity, of treachery and immorality, to smite the very enemy of the Middle empire itself was their goal, and in the middle of it fought the current suprainister, a great tower figure of a man, who had donned great ceremonial amour, built like a bull, with massive broad shoulders, his long raven hair concealed behind helmet, in his 2 massive hands he bore a massive pole arm, sweeping away the enemy in close range, bellowing and roaring a fierce litany.

Surging forth, while Capitol enforcers advanced to the sides, keenly sniping out with their rifles, several silently fell to the side, in death their composure remained, not a cry did they make, their duty fulfilled, yet the treacherous rabble roiled and surged, firing back with their own pilfered rifles and swinging with their own weapons, when the Suprainister, Vitzagan Torrodell Charged forth sweeping a great swath of them to the ground with this savage blade, and for a moment all was still, and with a great thunder the behemoth embraced the earth and a cheer came from the rebels, a great man had been felled, by treachery and underhandedness.

Yet this cheer died stillborn on their lips as the people, the central imperial citizens cantered forward, shrieking in rage swinging and firing with unholy frenzy the expression on their visages, possessed as if by demons the attacked and attacked and attacked, the rebels thrown helplessly back, and yet in their wake mourning was done, Malo with sorrow in his heart, turned his friend and mentor, the suprainister so his eyes may see the sky one last time, touching his right fingers to his heart he closed his own eyes, reaching forth with his left, to close the eyes of the fallen legend, to place the hands in the proper position, to clasp his own vukas, his sword of state, so that he may be honored properly, with this malo looked up, tears pouring down his spattered cheeks, as he stalked through the crowds, now cheering as the rebels retreated, or rather fled, frantically running, to an unknown destination.

"Stand your ground Brothers and Sisters in war, we will not fall now, defend the Twin Emperors, they must not fall, and neither shall we. Rally now against the enemies of the people." cried up Jonian Jhanhus, the Captain of the guard, as he stormed through the control room of the spired strongholds heart. his voice carrying from the balcony of the room down to the men below, a tight packed morass of fighters, all of them reconciled to their fate, yet the lines were indeed faltering, a great salient at the gates, rumors persisted of intruders within the ancient halls, and an even more ancient enemy making his presence known, and he had trusted him, and for that his heart bled, his supposed greatest of friends, a traitor to flesh and state alike, his friend, his brother and cousin Zundorian Kukonois.

In the throne room, a light came, it shined crested and lustered, for it seemed, one of the stars itself had deigned visit the grand hall, and out of that light stepped that infamous figure, the bringer of veiled words of the future, the timeless maiden of prophecy, and the ultimate mother of all the Twin Emperors, That legendary lady, Viginias, her eyes leaked tears, her long flowing hair limed in light billowing gently behind her, as if toyed with by a gentle breeze, her entire form emanating light.

"Oh my descendant sons, I weep for you, but do not despair, your line does not end here, and although I weep for you know knowing that my sight has never failed, I give you small comfort in the coming sorrow, your heirs live, and the people shall endure, entrust the stewardship to the last line of the house of your ultimate father," pausing as the sounds of battle outside the chamber rose yet further the death cries of the fallen ringing shrilly out.

"let know your unknown cousin ascend, for he will watch over the people, as will his own descendants, and the people shall know peace in future times of uncertainty, yet your heirs, will refuse their birthright, and only when their fathers insist shall they rise, dispense know your missives, send now to your children a message, conceal it within the very seat of your power, for a time shall come when duty must be stirred." The fair lady swept down to them, her skin pale and unlined, perfect and unblemished, as she caressed her sons faces gently smiling, before fading into nothing, "rest now my sons, do not falter in the face of destiny, you shall be forever remembered, and never forgotten."

Brother stared upon Brother and nodded with a mischievous grin, turning to their thrones they withdrew their instruments of a grisly trade, running their hands over their seat of power one last time before they stood forward, back to back vukas in hand and waiting, solemnly.

"The people will thank me for this later, they don't yet realize that this is the only way," thundered a tall gaunt man, his cheeks hollow and his eyes wild, exuding an aura of sorrow as he gazed at his hands, hands that had lain to rest far too many sons in pointless wars, his heart heaved with sorrow, and his mind filled once more with that steely resolve, avenge his sons, and bring about a true time of peace, the man with cropped fair hair, chestnut eyes and well built form, of lank stance regarded the halls with somber determination.

"yet, can I truly free us of the cycle, like my ancestor I fight with the people, it is too late now, nothing can bring my sons back, but I can make sure they died not in vain." Zundorian Kukonois steeled himself as the vanguard ahead at last broke through the lines in front of the throne room door, his blood red garb billowing about his form as he beheld the grisly scene.

"The Throne room has been breached sir; our defenses have come to nothing!" Called a Ventulas from the corner, the equipment on his desk, before a small cacophony of noise had fallen silent, no more did the brave enforcer captain report, fallen in battle with his men he now lay, much to the despair of all within that room.

"Srihacul Veltes, your orders sir," called Jonian, his face a mask of horror, his hands wringing together gone was his jovial standing, he knew now despair, as did all within.

"Fight on, we may have failed the Twin Lords, but let us make sure that we may reach them in time to redeem ourselves, or at least, slay their slayers," he bellowed slamming a fist on a large wooden desk nearby with a loud crack, "Jonian old friend, take the last of the guard with you, to the throne room, if you hurry you may yet save the Twins, I have a task to carry out, given to me by the imperial brothers, it pains me to not run to their aid, but we all do our duty, even if others fall because of it, they would expect no less of us." he concealed with himself, his feeling of spiraling despair, his friends, Valkesean and Valtoronian, the Twin Emperors, doomed to die, as they had been from birth, yet they had thrust upon him a last decree, and it was his duty to carry it out, silently, not betraying his sorrow he stalked out the room, at a hectic pace.

The remaining denizens of the room eyed their captain with a despairing eye, they too knew what this meant, and it shocked them to the core, the end of the war was nigh, they had stood strong, yet they were about to loose everything, yet they trusted in the words of the Srihacul, close friend of the Twins, and in Jonian, empowered by the twins as their leader. They looked to him for direction, the attention snapping Jonian out of the misery induced stupor, at once straightening up, "We fight now, although we may not succeed let us go down, and take as many as we can with us, to forever to return to the middle empire!" he bellowed, and his men too bellowed with him as they snatched their weapons from the nearby desks, and traipsed out with him.

The Corridors were a mess, bodies lay strewn everywhere, features mutilated beyond recognition, blood and gore spattered everywhere, bodies still steaming and warm twitching in death, ankle deep in blood gore urine and excrement they trudged, these ones proud halls brought low, remembering yet how days ago their had been a happier place. Occasionally they came to some, barely alive moving slowly, in obvious pain, and without regret they ended these people long due a death, with a simple shot, ending their journey kindly with a hot bullet. The halls were near abandoned; little sense could be made of the place, it simply made no sense.

"So Zundorian, you would walk in your great grandfathers steps, but why?" called the Twin Valkesean, his stern voice ringing loudly through the hall, his hand tightening around the Vukas, his back tensing against that of his brother Valtoronian. the two were adorned in full imperial robing, dark black figures emblazoned with the crest of the middle empire, formidable fighters, trained from a young age, yet they knew their end was near, and yet accepted it they had. and steadfast in their determination, their desire to take this traitor with them.

"Quite simple Valkesean, your wars killed my family, and countless families of the people, I have seen the people slip back to how we were in ancient times, becomming proud, foolish reckless and arrogant, too long have we followed a cycle, it must be broken, for all our sakes, you are the guardians of the system, chosen by birth, and for that you must die" without a further word he swept forward, wielding a pair of Vukas he thrust with both in a decapitating move, yet the twins pushed against each other spinning away, bringing their own blades to bear with a flashing synchrony, in a perfect parry of the traitors blades, snarling he thrust again forcing them back a step.

While this happened a close cortiege of the traitors compatriots surounded the duelling trio, rifles levelled, unwilling to fire, lest they caught their leader in the cross fire, they cheared on their lord, chanting an ancient chear, hailing the house of Xalxon and it's saviour.

"You would bring us back to dark times Zundorian," bit out Valtoronian as he parried a powerful thrust by one of the Vukas four blades, withdrawing quickly as it whirled in a motion that would have surely lost him a hand. "The past is behind us for a reason, you are deluded, the people are not as you have described, they seek peace, and yet you bring more war, just how far has your trachery gone?"

The fallen man laughed out coldly, "this entire was was your fall, perpetuated to ensure an ultimate victory, with the world in it's weakened state, and we virtually untouched of the wars horrors, yet with all the advantages we have garnered we shall rule all, the people shall once more hold sway over everything, as we did in times past." he drew close once more as if to single out Valtoronian, when the young emporer jerked forward, as if struck by some invisible weapon to the back, coughing up a spatt of blood, his blade going wide grazing the face of the fallen man, drawing a line of blood, before he caught himself leaping back.

"You are a true traitor!" Valtoronian coughed clutching his chest for a moment, seeing the blood, and realising the truth, consigned to ending their rule by any means this man had come, and with a treahcerous shot he had weakned the noble Valtoronian, and his brother stood aghast and with a fury he himself surged forward, cutting a great gash across the mans chest, yet Zundorian leapt back just in time and with a well aimed shot caught Valkesean in the chest also, the two brothers stood oozing, bent slightly with a defiant look in their eyes as they stood in a puddle of their own spreading lifeflow, yet outside the halls a great call went up, the call of renwed battle.

"Come now Brothers, we must break through, our emperors are depending on us." screamed Jonian, as he and his men Hurled themselves against the last dregs of Zundorian's soldiers, the doors of the throne room hung loosely when abruptly something snapped, a great crack and half the men, snuffed out, their lives gone. Crushed beneath the fallen door, rallied by this Jonian and his men fought on to even greater frenzy, praying they were in time.

The sounds of frenzy down the hall, and the sight of help close at hand made the pair swell with hope, and together they roared and surged forth together, intent on ending this traitor forever, yet hope had blinded them, and Zundorian neatly swept out the way slashing at the twins as he left, causing more of their life flow to spill out on the floor, yet Zundorian slipped to the once polished floor, now slick with blood, casting his eyes round in despair as the royal pair descended upon him, "Despite your actions we will offer you mercy, if you surrender," the twins intoned together as they attempted to stand tall in front of the traitor, when a loud crash came in the background, a grenade had gone off the Jonian and his men, now bloodied and battered surged forth, turning their heads at the sight the twins lost their focus for a moment, and that was all Zundorian needed, grinning as he thrust up, the twin blades, embedding themselves in the chests of the Twin Emperors, they fell with a cry, the blades sunk deep within their chests.

"One swift blow and the deed is done, Hah!" cackled Zundorian as he cast a twitching eye towards the door, and yelled out tetchily, "Calmen you and your men cover, we're escaping," he whispered as he ran to the throne and to the left, tearing at a long drape with the Coat of Union embellished upon it, and another soldier heaved into it did Zundorian turn back, with a cautious look before hurling himself through the entry, behind him went his other soldiers, the last slamming the hatch shut, and gone forever they were.

Above this scene, a fitful phantom shed a tear, a shade of glory, the timeless lady of the future, Viginias wept for her fallen children, although not truly their mother, but rather a great grandmother, she wept, for on their birth, their death she had seen, a tragic death, slain by one so close...

The last of Zundorian's Soldiers fought savagely in the halls but were cut down ruthlessly as Jonian rushed to the limp forms of the twin monarchs, "Sires, we have failed you!" caterwauled Jonian, easing a blade out of a pouch preparing to slit his own throat his eyes closed and his teeth gritted, when with a hoarse couch the imperial pair struggled up ever so slightly, "no you have not failed, carry out your duty forever Kanzinian Jonian, tell our sons, that they must carry out their duty, and stand by them," the two heaved and wheezed, not long left for this world yet they pressed on, desperate for these last words, "our last words to them, our seat of power, and tell Veltes, tell him, that we are happy now, and as for," they wheezed desperately, their time near spent, "tell," spluttering up a small torrent of blood from his mouth Valkesean pressed on, "tell our hand, to guide the people, watch over them we.." the two their lives spent collapsed onto the floor, their eyes gazing sightlessly up at the vaunted ceiling, the treacherous bladed embedded still within their chests, their robes died a crimson red, the floor thick with the fetid flow, and Jonian cried out in despair, as did the men, a deep wailing cry of despair, the cry of all lost, forever gone, a beloved relative, a father dead, the unfairness of the world, an unnecessary death, brought on by their own inaction, and together they wept, as the Twin Emperors, the greatest of them all lat dead on the floor, dead by the hand of their cousin Zundorian Kukonois.

Present Day Novacom

Denteth Tolion, stood impassive in this ancient hall of sorrow, he held in his hand a medallion, yet that was not the object of his focus, he eyes of the great crest mounted on the wall at the end of the hall, the immaculately polished floors and walls, upon which hung great tapestries and tabards, the ceiling great and vaunted, at the end of the room a great rising, and a quartet of regal chairs, the thrones of the Twin Emperors and Their wives, The Bonded Empresses, he lowered his head again, regarding the medallion, a unity of 2 split parts, the crest of the Middle Empire, each half, once worn by Valkesean and Valtoronian, the last of the Twin Emperors, entrusted to his father by Srihacul Veltes at the end of a terrible war, by many known as the Second World War, he once more looked round the room, with a sorrowful expression, remembering the tales he had heard, the Imperial Pair, had been kindly brothers, ruling over the people with a fair hand, guiding the nation through many hazards at little worry for themselves, indeed they could have escaped death yet the stood and fought, and had died because of it.

Standing up to the traitor Kuknois who even to this day haunted the people, he had escaped that day, through a secret passage to the port, where a ship had awaited, he had evidently planned this a great deal of time in advance for the home fleets were away on patrol and ill positioned to intercept his escaping flotilla, a part of the nation had died that day, and a terrible enemy had revealed itself, he gazed up at the emblem of the middle empire once more, wondering how we could possibly end this great threat to the people, looking up once more reassuring himself, if it came to the same situation, he too would stand and fight, as had the entire of the nation that day, every city had been beset by rebellion, yet when the twins had died the rebels had fled, even to this day they knew not the depth of preparation the traitor had made.

"This must never again happen, we stood alone then, we will not stand alone again." he called out to the memories of the past, turning from the thrones the medallion clutched in his hand, the relic of the fallen emperors, as he padded out of the great hall.

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Novacom Diplomatic Directive

From: Suprainister Denteth Tolion
To: Nations with relations, (open to others wanting to establish relations as well)

As we approach rememberence day, I myself remember the Second World War, or what I have been told and seen, and yet I also remember the conflicts of more recent times, to that end I invite you all to visit Novacom, so we may remember those lost, and build together strong relations so the mistakes of the past can never come back to haunt us, I await your reply.

Signed,
Suprainister Denteth Tolion
The Message is signed in an indecipherable language, probably Novan

OOC: Consider this my return to NS, so starting off with refreshing relations establishing new ones :)

*bump*

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Official Imperial Transmission

To: Suprainister Denteth Tolion
From: The High Council of Arrandin

Greetings,

While our more recent history with Novacom is somewhat filled with tribulation, the Empire is willing to put ‘the mistakes of the past’ behind us, as you have put so adequately. Our friendship with Novacom was forged in the fires of battle and is not something to be abandoned lightly.

The Infinite Empire accepts your invitation and is willing to again send a representative of the High Council to Novacom.

Signed
Lord Erkal, Imperial Foreign Affairs Minister

OOC: I’m assuming in this that we never find out you were involved in the conflict in Atruria, otherwise, well you know what would happen.

Establishing Communication Channel…

Receiving Incoming Message…..



Official State Directive......

The United Military State of Xharn
The Ministry of Foreign Relations

The United Military State of Xharn has not forgiven the Novan Demons that have ravaged and destroyed our beloved fatherland. It was thanks to your interference and barbaric invasion on our fatherland. That lead to our great Xharnian people becoming mere savages. We were forced to submit to foreign will and become a third world nation. We have after many struggling years rebuilt our glorious fatherland in Irathria.

The Patron Joseph Stormberg has this to say about your nation. The only way he would send any member of the Grand National Unity Party to your homeland is if they were to be leading the invasion to exterminate the Novan infestation on this planet.

Signed,

Grand Ambassador Gerald Nomato
Head of Foreign Relations, Grand Ambassador

OOC: Sorry, The United Military State of Xharn just had to force it's pure hatred of all things Novan..

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Novacom Diplomatic Directive

From: Suprainister Denteth Tolion
To:Lord Erkal

It is good to hear from the Infinite Empire once again, we too feel the same way about our friendship, and are most eager to repair it, I Enclose the details of the events as well as a flight path and transponder codes for your safe arrival, I do however request some details of the delegation so I may relay numbers so accommodation may be organized.

Signed,
Suprainister Denteth Tolion
The Message is signed in an indecipherable language, probably Novan

OOC: no worries, My involvement never manifested itself as distinctly novan, that would have came later, if at all...

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Novacom Security Ministry

To Whom It may concern,

Enclosed you will find several disks from CYBERAX, on them are safe flight routes and navigation software allowing you access to NANA, to ensure your security you will be issued with ID cards upon your arrival to ensure your free access through Novan institutions during your stay.

Allowances have been made for the duration of your stay in Novacom, to that end we will be advising you of any possible altercations that may occur, we hope you have a pleasant and most of all stay within our lands, and do not hesitate to contact us for an escort at any terminal by entering: (5 indecipherable novan caligraphs are printed in this space)

Security Minister Halmenian

OOC: here’s a brief run down of the Flight Route

European Approach, traveling over the Fortress Isle of Fitzpar Hareltzex, over the Pvhaldun Colossus, and finally over the ravaged island of Valjsguard before arrival at Destinus, over the Kikaralas peaks before descending over Kikraenov to land at Novesia Air Terminal 6

IC:

Valcus cast the Xharnian message onto his obsidian black desk with a derisive snort, it skimmed across the surface, resting at the foot of a nearby lamp, Valcus sighed deeply to himself, the weight of his years in government weighing heavily upon him at that moment as he turned slowly to face out through the high framed window, casting his glance across the city of Novesia, spreading out before him, as if it flowed from the tall spiked spire like tower, he silently congratulated himself on, what he personally felt, to be the best view from the entire tower, the city, Novesia it’s cryptic skyline, it’s buildings glimmering with an almost internal luminescence, and the man smiled, at peace within himself.

They should know better to taunt the ones who brought them as low as they claim, his thoughts reverberated around his skull, stalked through his mind, as he contemplated the inflammatory message, Pride is the undoing, he thought to himself, reciting the old adage of his father. Father, your death was so tragic, to die at the end of the war against ones who were not our enemies, curse Kukonois, he bit out mentally, he sighed to himself his chest heaving slightly as he turned back to his desk, lowering himself into the high backed chair, he gave the matter a moment of thought, I won’t fret too much over the matter, they don’t deserve it, tapping his terminal twice he began to compose a message, and giving orders for it to be relayed in the morning, so it would arrive at the Irathian midnight, let us cause them a headache, I have better things to do than waste time enough on them, he contemplated to himself.

I do have a penchant for the Xharnians, they make for good debate, let them and others think me confrontational, it means they will speak bluntly, it means we can reach agreement far quicker, he thought to himself with an air of finality, casting his glance round the office, wide and spacious, and turned his head slightly back over his shoulder to admire the view, chuckling to himself again how he had unwittingly managed to snag the best office in the spire like tower, and he marveled to himself once more, as he frequently did at the skill of the architects who had built the city, to construct with such technique that seemingly massive crystalline blocks held aloft by a subtle metallic embrace, yet there were further wonder, seemingly transparent they held the view within from those without, staring up at the night sky turning back to face the portrait hanging on the wall, tugging at his collar once more, appreciative of the extra air conditioning he had insisted on, for the summer may be at it’s end, but the autumn was still swelteringly warm, the climate was always such, hot and sweltering, chuckling to himself at the thought of the delegates inevitably getting sun burn.

He cast a glance around the office the portrait beckoning him over, and he went to it, hanging his head before it, father, your sacrifice brought us victory, but at heavy cost, the Twin Emperors lay dead, dead along with you, we suffered great loss that day, yet it’s legacy still haunts us he finished, contemplating the sadness of the nation, yet he steeled himself, the past was past, it was no more than that, the people had soldiered on, as had he, and he had been pleased by recent events, although some of the enigma of the nation was revealed, yet officials had taken pride in using their true ranks, gone were admirals and generals, once more did they call themselves Srihacul, and he smiled at his own title, they called him ambassador, yet truly he was a Senvallen, at this he realized that he accomplished nothing by mourning the long since dead. With an air of finality he padded back over to his desk tapping 3 keys and waving at the lamp for that switch, no point in burning the midnight oil, as the western saying goes echoed the thought, as he turned for the door, casting another gaze out the window, the light of the eternal tower in the distance catching his glance, he turned and the door slid shut as he strode down the obsidian floored corridor.

Surely the Missive written by the Senvallen would arive at the new homeland of Xharn at midnight local time...

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Novacom Diplomatic Directive

From: Senvallen Valcus Torrodell
To: Grand Ambassador Gerald Nomato

I am somehow not surprised to here such rhetoric, I advise you humble yourselves with all possible haste, lest someone else take offence and decide to encourage humility. Surely you have not forgotten the rapid inroads the Novan military made in less than a week, such a feat can and will be repeated if you continue your senseless posturing, we care not a fig for it,

Signed,
Senvallen Valcus Torrodell
The Message is signed in an indecipherable language, probably Novan

OOC: Doesn't bother me mate :) it'll be interesting to have someone to butt heads against.

*bump*

*Bump*

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Official Imperial Transmission

To: Suprainister Denteth Tolion
From: The High Council of Arrandin

I have received the information package you dispatched with your last transmission successfully and an aircraft is already being prepared for the designated flight path to Novacom.

In regards to your inquiry, the Yallakian delegation will include two members of the High Council, Lord Baelin and Lord Merrech. I believe you have already met them, during our trade negotiations last year in Novacom. They will be arriving at the appointed Air Terminal within twenty four hours.

Signed
Lord Erkal, Imperial Foreign Affairs Minister

OOC: Sorry about the delay, for the past 2 days when I've tried to get in Jolt's let me down with taking half an hour at least to log in or not at all.

IC: "Srihcaul, Sir"

Jarchendrian turned from the console, the object of which is attention had been thoroughly fixated, "Yes Ventulas?" he coolly enquired, his inquisitive eyes now fixing the Ventulas with an inquisitive look, standing tall, his uniform bore the subtle and almost hidden markings of a commander who had seen command of infamous theatres, yet his smooth features, untouched by harsh mark of battle seemingly told otherwise, his dreamy blue eyes, and charismatic face hid from the world a calculating mind and a devious tactician.

"NANA reports incoming craft, the CI marks it as a Yallakian craft, outer Tokon patrol XD1802 is escorting them into the interior," the Ventulas uttered, saluting before staring back at the Srihacul Jarchendrian, on his guarded features a question was hinted at, at a glance it was obvious why, a young man serving his 3 years service before his place at the U.N.I. still learning much in the ways of the world he shared the traits of several of his generation, a curiosity of strangers, tempered by a cautious guardedness.

"Very good Ventulas Niolot, and calm yourself, is everything ready?" the Srihacul added as an aside, his gaze drifting to the large vision in the center of the expanse, with a series of long strides he placed himself at the railing eyeing up the proceedings going on down below, casting a glance round the area, seeing not a person in sight he beckoned the young man over, "what do you see young Tolion?"

The Yallakian craft had been sighted early on it's approach, having barely began it's flight over the Atlantic Tokons had been alive in the air, several military experts from notable nations had mused that there were more Tokons in service than the actual population of Novacom, something that baffled many elder statesman on how exactly such a massive force of machines was ran to this very day and would surely continue to do so for a long time, the great mechanical buzzards would pass the craft without notice as they swept through the skies in their uniform trio's, the increasing vigilance of the isolated state was something barely noticed by most, yet as their Zeonic enemy waxed and waned the people were ever vigilant in limiting their enemy.

As the Yallakians drew closer to Novan Territory proper small patrol ships would be seen occasionally, as the Home Fleets patrolled the seas for anything amiss, regulating trade and interdicting immigrants, which still continued in a heavy stream to attempt to join the nation, turned back by the drove for their deceitful approach. As the craft drew yet closer Tokons enclosed it in an embrace, "Tokon Patrol XD1802, assigned to escorting you to your destination, Identifiers checked out affirmative, we greet the Yallakian Lords," the metal birds cawed together over radio wave, their small yet elegant forms formed up slightly above the craft so as to not disturb the view, their beautifully crafted forms, each one seemed to have been hand crafted wing struts artfully mounted with that goggle-eyed face, sculpted to be a contradiction, much like the Novan soldiers helmet, both sinister yet friendly depending on viewpoint, the Tokons two talons were folded underneath much like a real birds, their wings spread wide as they effortlessly kept pace with the aircraft, occasionally other Tokon patrols would speed past at a frantic pace, and at that time heavily encrypted communications would intertwine temporarily as they greeted their brethren and brood.

It would not be long before the Eastern Fortress of Fitzpar Hareltzex, the bastion against the east, against Europe, a memorial of the cold war and the brinksmanship of the era, the pointless posturing against a nation quite happy to ignore the egomanias of the world, the fortress, built into a vast mountainous isle reached for the sky, great pylon like outcrops of mountain and built monolith alike intertwined to the point where the two were inseparable, below several ships moved at a hectic pace, Sankrellzion Dreadnoughts moved ponderously forward while the smaller and recently rolled out of a Novacom Manufacturing Laboratory Shipyard destroyer classed as a Phontellzion Destroyers navigated the fleet. The air above the fleet was alive with movement, and barely any of it recognizable, some were recognizable as Hijir, but not of a known model, they were the Hijir Savrozars the last of the Hijir Line, and with them flew Voloko Vurazestals, the first mass production variant of the new design tested in so many theatres.

From the Fortress Isle rose a single Parridigram, itself escorted by Tokons and a squadron of 8 strange designs, with strange shaped shoulders and long strange rifles they sped away with the transport, in the same direction as the Yallakian craft would travel. Passing over the isle of obsidian black stone, meshed with the subtle architecture of the Novan people the flight plan would direct, a place dubbed the Pvhaldun Colossus.

Now in the Novan interior the sea stretched for seeming miles with nothing to be seen, yet in the distance was a small finger seemingly rising out of the sea, as it was approached it would increase in size a thousand fold and more great jutting of stone, carved into a massive figure, great and vast, a massive island, yet also a work of art, a Soldier of Ancient Times rising out of a base of stone, standing seeming guard over nothing, and atop this colossus was a city, of unknown name, perched upon this soldiers helmet, and at his feet was a place of tranquility, rolling fields and forest, strange birds took to the skies, half the size of a man with beautiful flaming crest, flame colored feathers and a blood red talons, seeming birds of living fire, flying high in the sky, over crystal clear waters and unspoiled skies, the sun bearing down upon all, unfettered by clouds.

The colossus would come and go, and a great expanse of sea would once more take the craft, the tokons flew high, never once deviating from the perfect position with the craft, where it moved so did they, without even a millimeter deviation, after a seeming age land was sighted, an island twice the size of Britain spread out to the north of the craft, a great mountain blocking off most of the continent, in front of this mountain was a large walled city, nestled in a relatively unspoiled land, yet a land of frantic activity, large craft hovered in midair over the mountains, and the cities port was a frenzy of activity, and as the aircraft passed over the mountain the reason would become clear, for there lay a broken land, a place barren and cratered, spoiled seemingly forever by the ravages of war, and recent at that, where once forests stood there was a black fetid morass of charred ground and twig like stumps grizzled black, skeletons littered the place, and the ground itself was barren and bare, almost invisible a wave of seeming small insects pored over the place, upon closer inspection people these were, moving throughout the terrible devastation, picking through what with a sickening moment of clarity was the permanents of a massive city, in this land of horror many worked, to unknown purpose, such sights had never been seen, this place made Hiroshima Chernobyl and even the irradiated remnants of Slovania seem hospitable, The ruined Continent, Valjsguard.

Turning south from here skimming over seas where the dolphins played after another seeming age another place appeared, yet another mountain reaching to the skies, came into view, surrounding it a craggy expanse of canyons and rocky outjuttings, as the mountain was passed over, it would become apparent it too had been carved, the mountain city Kikaralas hid it's existence well, the northernmost city of the land of Destinus, the largest of the islands of Novacom, larger than several France and Germany combined.

Not too soon later a great sinkhole would be passed over, directly over it another city would be revealed, clinging to the very walls of the massive hollow, it hung, and in less than a few moments gone from sight again surely it had been Kikraenov, and now the journey was nearly beginning, for in the distance the rockiness ended and great plains and forests spread, even more surprisingly in the distance was a slither of yellow, possibly even a desert, yet this land like it's people held it's secrets well. Over a maze of twisting canyons the craft passed, wild and natural these places were, passing over a great rise of rock the widest and deepest canyon of them all spread wide before them, and in that place a great city was nestled, full of spires both cryptic and inviting, stretching out a great distance to the far off sea, even the very walls of the canyon were built upon, as if massive walls had risen up to protect the city, nearest the rise of rock was a great building, with many tiered towers and a wide courtyard spreading out before it, stood, it's purpose unknown. Further into the city a great glimmering tower of silver and obsidian, with now, seemingly customary jutting architecture it rose out of a wide base, at even spacing jutted out 4 wide angular pylon like extrusions, finally culminating at the top where the final 4 cradled the top of the tower, and it shone like a great beacon in the sun, a bright light for all the land.

A signal came, guiding the craft to what was recognizable as an airport, surprising for such an isolated nation, for a great many craft were landed their, separated slightly from the city by an expanse of unspoiled nature, as much of the city seemed to favor judging by the patches of green spread throughout, the buildings of the airport were covered in Novan flag and banners, just barely visible was a parridigram set down on one of the facilities many runways, several stick like figures visible and it's accompanying Tokons setting themselves upside down legs up into a strange tower of which the airport had several, when a male voice speaking in novan accent of clipped English spoke to the pilots "Yallakian Diplomatic Craft, this is Novesia Air Traffic control, runway 37D has been assigned to you, upon landing at Terminal 6 a Delegation is awaiting you, Mechnicians also await to refuel and perform maintenance, Welcome to Novesia,"

The sleek black Yallakian jet passed over the final Novan city before the airport. The flight had been long and not as comfortable as usual so its occupants were more than happy to see the spread of runways and aircraft of the Novan airport appear before them from behind the expanse of foliage and general greenness of nature which separated it from the city. Such an occasion as this would usually warrant the Imperial Households luxurious private jet, however it had been requisitioned for a trip to Xharn mere hours before the invite from Novacom was received.

Inside, Lord Baelin shifted uncomfortably in his seat for the umpteenth time, finally giving up his attempts to go through the documents he had brought with him, dumping them onto the chair next to him. Opposite him, the shadowy Imperial Chancellor set motionless as he had for most of the flight, the hood to his formal cloak drawn over his head as always.

‘How much longer?’, Baelin called through the open cockpit door to the pilot.

‘A few minutes,’ came the faceless reply from the other side of the doorway, ‘we’ve just received our landing instructions from the Novan’s.’

The pilot was very accurate in his estimation, and a few minutes later the aircraft touched down on runway 37D. Once it had come to a complete stop, the two Imperial High Councilors exited the craft alone through the stairs in the fuselage, just behind the wing, and headed off to meet the Novan delegation, leaving the pilots to supervise the plane and any work the Novan’s would be doing on it.

Sorry again about the wait.

OOC: ok np and Bump for more interest

*bump*

*Bump*

Bump

OOC: My deepest apolgies for the delay, I'm eager to get this back on track, now without further ado.

As the Plane had landed a sky bridge had been extended to the side of the plain, like a long silver tendril reaching out of the tall black and silver building, inside, in Terminal 6, part of the terminal had been sectioned off, as was evident by the grooves carved into the floor, those intricate patterns cut off by a great black barrier, and in stamped over the barrier in blue was a symbol, an image similar to the Tower of Destiny, it’s diamond like Pinnacle clutched underneath by the “wings” of the tower body, and underneath the logo was a small string of text, the emblem was that of the NCA Novesia City Authority, in the center of the section of the airport was a large pillar of a hazy and semi transparent black material, and around it in a seeming eternal embrace was a ring of monitors which descended down through the floors, while others descended from above, the section itself was done out in Silver with an obsidian black floor, carved and inlaid with silver, the entire place was cool and calm, a chill breeze graced these high halls, the walls bore the Novan coat of arms, and flags hung on the walls, in the center of the room, in the tight embrace of his governmental tunic, black with flares of blue, high collared and trailing hem, standing motionless at the end of a corridor of flesh and fabric, a squad of Novan Capitol Enforcers, stood at stiff attention, saluting Novan style, left arm raised to shoulder height folded back in on itself hand palm down resting over the heart, their uniforms although similar to the military even so slightly different, slightly looser, yet the almost invisible underlay of amour was even less visible than standard military, the plating thinner and of different materiel, meant more to absorb physical blows than survive hail of bullets, of a looser weave to allow for some respite from the sweltering summers.

“I greet you, on Behalf of the Novan State,” called out the tall and lank man, with dull blonde hair, in a seeming haphazard style, his arms folded behind him, as he stood slightly sideways on, left foot in front of the other, head raised eyes sparkling in the gloom, a smile crossing his features both warm and welcoming, despite the chillness of the terminal, “Vice Foreign Minister, Marcus Zekchuval, it is an honor to meet representatives of one of our highest allies,” half bowing slightly, as seemed to be customary among Novans, his voice echoed throughout the room, although he spoke quietly, it filled the room through some unknown trick of acoustics, “I trust your journey was enjoyable despite it’s length?”

‘Thank you Minister Zekchuval,’ replied Baelin as the two Imperial High Councilors approached, bowing his head towards the Vice Foreign Minister in the typical Yallakian formal greeting. ‘The journey here was pleasant enough, plenty of nice scenery actually. But where are my manners. This is His Eminence, the Imperial Chancellor, Lord Merrech,’ he stated, motioning towards the shadowy man standing slightly shorter in height next to him, ‘And I am High Councilor Baelin.’

The two men were dressed in practically identical outfits, both wearing the dark blue cloaks of the office of the High Council. The only difference was in what they wore beneath. Baelin wore the black dress uniform of an Imperial General, perfectly crisp and entirely crease free, while the Imperial Chancellor donned black robes, barely visible behind the cloak, which as he always wore it, was practically pulled closed around him with its hood drawn over his head, masking the figure behind it and casting his face in shadow.

‘We are pleased to once again be invited to visit Novacom.’

"You will find much of our homeland to be a pleasent sight, not many outsiders see the sights, a pity really," he replied shaking his head slightly at the last part, "I forget my manners, I'm sure you've no desire to stand around inside this cold terminal, though I think you'll find the weather outside still quite warm, you may find that those cloaks will become exceedingly uncomfortable in the heat," his words echoed throughout the cavern like terminal, the only other sound apart from that was of a ring of monitors slowly sliding down one of the pillars, heralding the imminent departure of a flight to Xirnium, in both Novan caligraphs and in english.

Marcus gestured to a high framed entry at the end of the hall like section of the terminal with a wave of a hand, the long tunic hugging his very arms, "Please this way, Lord Chancellor and High Councilor," with a wave of his hand as he turned to the entry, "we travel by monorail to the Tower of Destiny, I know that you may be accustomed to travel by" for the first time he stumbled slightly, unused to the english word, "car, but there is no such thing here, we prefer an unspolit environment,"

‘We’ll survive,’ answered Baelin to the Novan minister. The High Councilor knew that the odds of successfully convincing Merrech to remove his cloak were next to none. Especially not while they were on official business.

‘Please, lead on,’ he continued as the pair of Imperial representatives fell in step with Marcus as they headed towards the monorail. ‘While it’s true that we still use the car, an un-spoilt environment is also much preferred within the Empire and we do what we can to make sure road travel does as little damage as possible. Our vehicles are powered no longer by fossil fuels but by bio-fuels, which are much cleaner both in their day-to-day operation as well as their production, which happens in synchronization with our dairy farming. But I won’t go into the specifics, they’re quite, shall we say, uncivilized.’

Marcus lead the way out through the door, "I only hope so, it may be Autumn but the last vestiges of the summer heat or notoriously unpleasent to those who are unaccustomed," replied Marcus as he lead the way through another room and past a security checkpoint, and into a corridor, the walls were the typical black with a silver inset support glimmering in the bright light, “It has been more of a case of the terrain, mass transit during the past was the only practical way of getting around, I trust you noticed the terrain on your journey across the more northern regions of Destinus, as a result we use underground canals and monorails, far cleaner and ultimately more efficient,” as he passed by a portrait of a great palace in the skies, it’s thousand ramparts bedecked with clouds and it’s towers gilded with stars. At the end of the corridor and through a door it opened out onto a Monorail platform, a few Enforcers stood here and there, the typical Novan Security presence, paradoxical for a state that prided itself on it’s superb internal stability, a Monorail car was already awaiting, with the same logo that had been seen on the divider earlier, a diamond logo clutched by the underneath of the pinnacle.

Marcus passed a hand over a metal plate on the twin doors, they slid open silently and Marcus motioned the pair onboard before alighting himself, the interior was all silver, the seats done out in black and green, the paneling was slim and slender, the thick glass would offer an excellent view, once out of the terminal, Marcus eased himself into a seat in front of a table sighing inwardly at the comfort placing his hands on the table steepling his fingers, they was only one other in the carriage a tall willowy woman with curled blonde hair, who looked strikingly familiar, Defense Minister Izalian Jhanhus, “ah you may know Minister Izalian, she’s only just returned from the southern city of Kravirez,” he turned to the willowy minister and pointed out the Yallakians in turn, “Lord Merrech, High Councilor Baelin,” he trilled, as the lady herself lowered herself next to Marcus, “A pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard about your last visit, and hope you can stay after your business is done, this time of year is always so memorable,” she trailed off her eyes alight with memories of the festivities, and such fond memories they were, of pleasanter times, before the death of her father.

Marcus smiled gently as he reached into a compartment at the side of the table pulling out a hexagonal shaped pot with silver frame and black inlay, and 4 Ornate mugs, with stylized handles and intricate carvings tracing the surfaces, “may I interest you in some Kraviran blend tea?” intoned Marcus as the Monorail slowly and unnoticeably accelerated out of the terminal and past the foliage.

Heya! Sorry about my delayed replies. I will have a completed post for you tomorrow!!

‘Tea? Thank you, why not,’ answered Baelin to Marcus, even as he nodded a greeting to the Novan Defence Minister and shifted himself into a comfortable position within the monorail. Beside him, Merrech also accepted the offer of a tea from Marcus.

Jhanhus, Jhanhus, thought Baelin to himself trying to work out whether or not he had heard of or met the woman before, perhaps on his last visit. Nothing came to mind though. ‘Minister Jhanhus, it’s a pleasure indeed. I see no reason why we cannot remain for awhile after the meetings.’

‘So long as we are not needed elsewhere,’ interjected Merrech abruptly from beneath the darkness of his High Council cloak, ‘we are after all on an official capacity here.’

‘Of course, Chancellor,’ said Baelin, politely. Though the Imperial Chancellor had a very quiet manner, only speaking when necessary, which gave him seemingly cold façade, Baelin was quite used to it by now. ‘By the way Minister Zekchuval, what happened to Vice Foreign Minister Juulan Tasame?’

OOC: Sorry about the big delay had a few essays to whip up, and my apologies for the short post.

IC: That Lovely woman graced the man with a gentle smile, as she slid onto the padded seat next to Marcus, who poured the thick purple aromatic brew into the overstylaixed mugs, he uttered a single word in Novan to Izalian, to which she replied with a cryptic word herself, half closing his eyes to nod sagely as he finishes pouring the tea, "Juulan, ah Yes, Juulan, He's overseeing our Embassy in Kahanistan, A task I don't envy, there's been a fair few strange happenings there as of late apparently," he uttered as he slid the two mugs forward, across the table, an object of subtle elegance, like everything else Novan, subtle and enigmatic, while reflective, the images seen on it’s surface were of different figures, it seemed to reflect the very soul of the viewer.

Marcus smiled at the words exchanged between the Yallakians, “I must admire you, truly I do, there are few who would turn down a chance to see our homeland, we take great pride in it, and the number of outsiders to see our homeland could be counted on both hands, yet you worry more of your cuties elsewhere, there is in you Novan Virtues, Duty is such an important quality,” his voice seemed to wrap itself around everything in the room, that strange accent and wordings, almost completely alien, abnormal and unique, even their garb was different to the norm, the Novans truly were different from the rest, small wonder many would think, Izalian rolled her shoulders gently as she gazed out of the window to a distant sight, muttering a few words to Marcus, before mentioning in English, “We’re passing by the Halxven, there are tales of people seeing images of the future within it’s walls, it’s quite a sight, the palace and it’s bastions, and it’s story ends on such a sad note,” she finishes in a somewhat melancholy tone, brooding on times past, and her own more recent misfortune before raiding her head and smiling gently, “but your not here to brood over those departed, it won’t be long until we arrive in Novesia Proper,”

The monorail slid by a great palace like structure, with great towers and immense carvings, young figures full of hope stretched out from the walls and pinnacles, the walls themselves painted and carved with intricate scenes of impossible complexity, all swirling from one story to another as they moved past it, Soldiers patrolled the walls in an unusual garb, as the car past a certain point the sun caught the entire building, setting it alight gleaming brighter than a thousand suns it seemed and cryptic figures danced across the surface, a regal pair back to back wielding strange 4 bladed swords against an unknown enemy, standing strong against the darkness and fighting on bravely, behind them loomed a great woman, wreathed in light, before more could be seen the image vanished, a seeming apparition, Marcus sipped his tea gently before breathing over the surface oblivious to the visions dancing across the surface of that great building idly asked Izalian of how her visit to Kravirez went.

“Marcus, I’d never had a chance to properly visit Kravirez before, I’d never realized what a wonderful city it was,” she breathed as she remembered the ancient monolithic buildings, the heavy drapery within and that artifact, after her meetings she had been entranced by it’s mystery and gazed deeply into it’s changing depths, she was a northerner at heart and herself hailed from the city of Quhorel, that city far to the west, on the Isle of Sangthuzx, a labyrinthine city, built into a series of cracks in a mountain, full of a stoical yet emotional people, the city had produced some of the greatest linguists of the past despite the disadvantages of that cities Stock. “Tell me Baelin, what you thought of Novacom from your last visit” Marcus intoned gently over the brim of the mug.

OOC: Don’t worry about it, I had my end of semester exams going until this Monday so I was pretty busy over the last few weeks.

Baelin gave a chuckle at the mention of Juulan’s new posting. ‘Kahanistan you say. I think strange happenings is a slight understatement. Every time I hear of them there is either some form of internal trouble going on or they are under invasion. I have come to question their ability for rational thought.’

As he spoke, the Imperial High Councilor caught the mug sliding across the table and raised it up, taking a small sip to taste the bizarre coloured tea. It was unusual, not like any tea they had tasted in the Empire, but still quite pleasant. He took another drink from the fine mug and then spoke again.

‘Unfortunately current circumstances do not allow for us to spend much time, if any, sight-seeing, no matter how rare the opportunity. The Imperial government was not designed to operate with so many of its top officials engaging in diplomatic visits and the Senate has begun to voice its concern over the increasing frequency of such occurrences. The government will not form a separate division though because it is still believed our involvement with foreign nations should be minimized.’

The two Yallakians gazed out the windows at the passing sights as Izalian spoke, and quite a sight it was. Baelin was just making a mental note to remember to ask about the sad end to the story of the Halxven when Marcus spoke again, returning his attention to the inside of the monorail where he realized that he had been so busy looking at the passing structures that he had missed the opportunity to ask. Shifting the mental note to the back of his mind he instead answered the Ministers question.

‘Quite impressive, though to be honest I did not get the chance to see very much of it at all. We were transported directly to the trade summit after landing on one of the fortress islands. There was plenty of food at the meeting but it lacked something of a view.’

"Indeed, There is some admiration for their people, who still remain loyal after so many hardships, there is some sympathy for them, but I feel most sorry for Juulan," Replied smoothly, an undercurrent of mirth flavoring his words, as he sipped again at the brew, idly casting a glance out the window as they entered Novesia proper, a slight dour thought crossed his mind as he sighted something in the air that he very much suspected shouldn't be, he mentally filed it away to enquire about the matter later.

Outside the Monorail car as they entered the city rose the tall buildings of that noble city, Novesia, It's unique architecture, Frameworks of smooth shimmering, almost moving silver, clasped Black Obsidian panels, as thin channels cut in at each level, with silver intersections creating a grid like pattern, just below the level of the monorail, as it rose up slightly, were mounted monitors on the buildings, the pattern shifting to allow for a large block of obsidian, upon closer inspection, these obsidian sections were bordered with thing bands of a lighter color, and within these bands were cryptic caligraphs running across the surface, on the Monitors were at guess, the Lunchtime News, as a Reporter with crimson hair addressed the viewers, while behind her scenes of a battle around a lone island raged, below the monorail, some way down in the wide streets below the buildings wide brim, the people mingled, most noticeable amongst them were individuals bearing great torches, several pillars ran along the streets, and from them hung strange banners, the Novan flag, except the four arms were made of flame, and the background flared subtly to orange from black going center outwards,.

"Oh I can assure it would hardly be some idle pleasure tour, but of course, it is not my place to ruin the Suprainister's intent, And on that matter it would appear out two governments diverge, although we pride ourselves on our isolation, we are not above having contact, with outsides, though in certain cases that has been somewhat less than successful, Xharn comes to mind, we got something rather amusing a few days ago, a Denunciation and a vow to destroy us, surely they never learn, I do wonder at times why we afforded them mercy," Marcus shook his head slightly at this last part, while Izalian chuckled at the mention, her curled locks bouncing gently as she set her cup down on the table.

"Oh Marcus you should know yourself by now, that’s them posturing, it's the only way they can accept their earlier defeats, and serves them right as well, to have Kukonois slip through our fingers because of them, inexcusable." Izalian purred almost chidingly, at the mention of the name of that malignant individual the Novans eyes flashed almost dangerously, the universal hatred of Kukonois ran deeper than most outsiders realized, and for reasons that would perhaps never be revealed, fortunate for some, she reflected, the reasoning couldn't be truly understood by outsiders, at least not easily.

"Ah yes, I remember seeing you land, I was at Lystadan for an Inspection in the wake of Valjsguard, At the time things were rather hectic, the several battles of Iathern, and the final thrashing about of Admiral Kukonois' Srihacul Xrazdens Battle Covenant meant security was at maximum, understandably, we weren’t too keen on the potential Diplomatic fracas should any of you have came to harm within our territory, rest assured the situation has very much changed, recent offensives have thrust Kukonois traitors into disarray, their last major operation was their defense at Concremo, and even that wasn't entirely successful either," she finished with a high degree of mirth in her voice as she spoke derisively of the actions of Srihacul Keshast.

"Also I might add, Minister Hugoro was somewhat cagey after barely escaping with his life from that farce of a peace conference, but I digress, you are not here to hear a tirade of our fight against our own demons, it won't be much longer either, till we arrive at the Tower of Destiny," Juulan feverently wished that the Defense Minister were not quite so proud in her forces achievements, she was a straight to the point woman, well suited to the military, but somewhat prickly on the diplomacy front, idly reflecting to himself, that it would probably be dismissed as part of the Novan psyche he smoothly spoke, his tone carrying an undercurrent almost unnoticeable to non novan speakers, for a slight less modicum of pride, "Your devotion to your duty is admirable indeed, Rest Assured, we understand that well, As you have probably gathered, we spend little time ourselves idling away, such sight-seeing if there were time would be swift," he finished smiling gently as he sipped away at the tea again, as the sun reflected off a spire rapidly growing in the window, tall yet well built, a silvered framework, with sheets of a strange metal in-between the framework, pylons erupted from the side of the tower at equal intervals, seemingly grasping the tower, while providing large areas on the outside, while the final set at the top clutched a diamond like protrusion which reached up to the skies, yet like all of the other buildings, did not rise above the magnificently high canyon walls.

Hey, a Huge apology for my absence/deletion. Once I get my nation restored I will get onto writing you a reply.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say we consider ourselves above having contact we just like to limit it. Many of the problems our nation has suffered in its past were due to interactions with foreign states on one level or another.’

Baelin shooks ever so slightly with silent laughter as he listened to Marcus mention the recent communiqué from Xharn, one that he had actually read not so long ago after it was intercepted during the Empires own transmissions with the Novan’s to arrange this visit. Could it be they don’t know yet? He found this surprising at the least. Given their history he would have wagered everything on the bet that the Novan’s had a spy within Xharn reporting on information like this. ‘I wouldn’t worry about Xharn,’ he said, in a very flat monotone manner to keep the Novan’s unawares to the upcoming, ‘they’re probably just feeling a little more confident now that they’ve joined the Infinite Empire.’ The High Councilor watched intently as he spoke to gauge the Novan’s reactions.

Despite the fact he showed no signs of it in his speech, the Councilors could tell from his composure that Marcus did not so much appreciate the recitation of the campaigns against Kukonois by the Defence Minister. A pity really, thought Baelin as he drank some more of the strange Novan tea, politics could get quite decrepit and dull and he did quite enjoy those rare few times when he got to deal with those who avoided the typical useless niceties and just dealt with what needed doing. He also had a fair interest in the military. He made a note to himself that he should talk more with Izalian if the chance arose.

‘Ah, almost there are we. Well, don’t feel rushed – although we can’t really linger for too long once our business is concluded, we are not in any need to be hasty either.’

Vruzanzan Square, a great plaza, an expanse of pure white, adorned with a smattering of statues here and there, in tall lithe almost lank form, dramatic poise as they stared into the skies with eyes that seemed to have a transcendent look about them, an ethereal standing emphasized their dramatic pose, one hand low while another held high to the sky, cupping the midday sun within their great palms around the square rose the high peaked and typically dramatic yet elegant Novan architecture, towering spires, glittering crystal balconies tiers upon tiers, delicately etched with thousands upon thousands of glyphs, the very sides of the buildings shone and gleamed in the sun, almost flashing, flashing repeatedly as if possessed by the same inner fire that seemingly drove many of the Novans, the buildings seemed octagonal, great monitors mounted upon the corners, a low brim just above the level that would at a glance be first floor, from these brims sheets of billowing fabric were attached meeting midday between in each street, upon great spire like lamps, providing some shelter from the hot midsummer sun, banners seemingly held by nothing flew from everywhere, the Novan emblem, the insignia of state flew everywhere, the people went about their daily business, a few of them idly clattering away to their fellows while casting glances at the monitors, where an all too familiar figure, that of the Novan diplomatic bulldog Valcus Torrodell was in mid speech, if it could be called that, from a distance, he looked more as if in mid rant gesturing and gesticulating wildly.

The Monorail slid into the terminal, which appeared to be under the auspices of a more moderate contingent, however, the armbands of the Soldiers lurking around was adorned with the design of a grey eye, with the insignia of the state split into 4 and descending from the eye as if morbid tears, their coloration, of the darker of the 8 colors of the Novan flag, their uniforms bearing a darker red than usual, opposed to the blood red they bore a shade more akin to burgundy, their helmets were of a different style as well, their visors were larger as well, and appeared more opaque, different from an unusual norm, indeed all the personnel encountered thus far had a different style of uniform from what the Yallakians would have expected, evidently something was changing in this super ancient state, “Marcus, I have to attend to issues in the Tower, I’ll escort our guests to the Suprainister,” Izalian intoned soothingly to the Vice Foreign Minister, who inclined his head almost imperceptibly at the Defense Minister and her lovely long lashes, he turned and bowed at the waist to the Yallakians, “It would seem I am to take my leave of you earlier than I had thought,” He said with a polite air, “Until another time,” smiling he pin wheeled on his heel and turned left down a corridor, Izalian chuckled slightly at the retreating form of her diplomatic colleague, “I must pity him, the foreign Ministry has been inordinately busy as of late, Curious indeed, they must keep busy to keep me ill at leisure, well that will change in all likelihood,” she smirked as she turned to the guards, drawing herself up to her full height, tall and majestic and imposing, almost divine, she uttered an order, and it was undoubtedly an order to the soldiers who inclined their heads and returned heavily filtered “Vas’zun Vohokorodi,” and formed up around the party, Izalien stepped forward, he tunic rippling like the waters of the ocean.

“Follow me, it’s not far,” she smoothly uttered, her voice smooth and her words dripping with that strange accent, typical of the Novans as a whole her hair bounced gently as she moved and led the way out of the terminal, and into the great square, directly aside the great Tower, it rose out of the ground it’s tall spires many pylon outriggers the entire building seemed to have been designed to impose, to be dramatic, every single edge was lavished with detail, small spires arose from every corner, upon which was perched a majestic pair of figures, one was almost definetly a mythological figure, a great billow of hair and robe, her hands cupper upwards and stretched out before her, the carving seemed to glow with an inner light, those eyes seemed to penetrate to the very soul, an image very familiar, this great prophetess was known around the world as the great Novan Viginias, and beside her stood another majestic figure, clad in beautiful armor bearing a four bladed sword, seeming to have struck down an unseen enemy his left arm swept to the side in the act of striking, a billowing cape carved in faithful detail hung from his arm, and in his right, he held another one of the blades, it’s 4 blades in a position to show the origin of the Novan flag, the four pointed star, the blade of Voronzel Jindrax held over his heart, this pair were upon every corner, and the detailing upon them was incredible, the entire building seemed beyond a time, it seemed part of the city, part of the future and part of the nations ancient past, all at once.

Izalian smirked as she led the pair out, checking through a thick sheaf of papers one of them would certainly be recognizable to the Yallakians, a picture perfect copy of the treaty they has signed mere days earlier, Izalian had been patient in playing her hand with this, and Marcus had merely continued in his conversation about it, “I thought it impolite to bring it up at the time, we knew about this treaty, perhaps even before you did,” she mentioned conversationally as they entered the tall glass doors which opened without so much as a whisper, into a tall hall, that seemed to reach to the very peak of the tower, individuals hovered in midair, until the realization would dawn that the sight above was merely the floors, floors made of glass and framed by a strange pearly silver metal, the entire bottom section of the tower was visible, except for a few rooms a few of which had after a few seconds instantly opaqued, while another had become visible again, as a few individuals strode out chatting amiably, at the center of the entrance hall was a massive desk, manned by a small team of receptionists, to the corners of the room were elevators, and behind the reception, there appeared to be a photocopy room, Izalian led the dazed Yallakians past the reception, and into the area behind, which actually held another elevator passing by the now understated military presence they entered the elevator, which had been deceptively small, but was actually quite large, a ring of padded seats around the edge, motioning for the pair to sit down and nodded to the guards from the terminal who saluted and padded away, tapping a key on the panel the elevator glided into motion, as the elevator began to move the sights on the walls changed, for they appeared to be made of that strange glass as well.

“You need not worry, Nymatex is far stronger than mere glass,” Izalian smirked as she rapped her hand sharply against the elevator side, drawing the attention of a young intern on the other side who politely inclined his head at the smiling minister, “I have heard many say that to reach the top of the tower is the longest trip in the world, a fallacy I’m sure, the Tower is hardly the worlds tallest building, we care little for such pointless displays of ego, function over form as they say,” The elevator continued to rise, and after what seemed an eternity, the expanse of administrative offices seemed to recede as the elevator rose out of the wide bottom section of the tower, and a breathtaking view of the city was to be had as the elevator continued to rise, passing by the massive balconies, upon which a few individuals garbed in the Uniform of high office conversed, it would not be long before the elevator was fully enclosed on all sides again, and this time there would be no insides view of the inner workings, merely a strange pattern revolving around the Novan insignia, before the elevator halted, and the minister lead the two out.

“It is almost time for us to part ways, after the meeting is over I’ll have someone meet you and escort you, I’m unsure yet whether I’ll be in my office within this tower, or at the Senhacate across the Square,” she finished almost mournfully, as she led the way up a set of wide stairs, guards at every third step, in yet another style of armor, of traditional coloration, yet of far heavier duty, appearing to be assault gear, a thick air of security hung in the air, as the walls were simply decorated, yet the held their secrets well, a great sense of history lurked within, and here and there were small plinths with some undoubtedly historic item placed upon it, at the top of the stairs was a large hall way, at the end of which was a quartet of guards, from the atmosphere there was no doubt that this was an incredibly heavily fortified area, yet despite this the guards seemed highly vigilant, they nodded at Izalian as the doors swung open, revealing the Suprainisters office.

It was a well furnished place, with several portraits on the wall, a desk facing over the city, a viewing area out to the sea, as well as a few recessed areas of an unknown purpose, a table in the viewing area was prepared with food and comfortable chairs, in front of his desk stood Denteth, in normal attire, a loose fitting tunic Izalian with a smile wink nodded her head to Denteth who nodded in return, his blue eyes shining ever so slightly as he smiled, “Suprainister, our Yallakian friends, Lord Merrech and High Councilor Baelin,” Izalian spoke, a tone of respect, and something else, almost imperceptible, “Thank you Izalian, I appreciate this, I shall see you in the meeting later on,” Returned the Suprainister, allowing Izalian to retreat out of the office, the doors clicking silently closed, “My friends, I understand you’ve been a bit hurried as of late, what with jetting around several countries and signing treaties and such, please, enjoy some of our fine Novan cuisine while we enjoy the pleasures of conversation, and perhaps discuss other matters,” smiling as he gestured with his right hand to the prepared table and it’s window view, his tunic moving gently around him as he made the gesture.

The Imperial High Councilors bid their farewells to Izalian as she left and then turned their attention back to the Novan Suprainister as he spoke.

‘It has been a somewhat unrestful few days I must admit,’ replied Baelin, moving across to the table the Suprainister had motioned too. He was well know for his seemingly unending appetite and was never one to turn down food, even if it were something he’d never even seen before like some of this Novan cuisine would be. Still, the High Councilor was in remarkable physical condition and was in no way overweight despite the fact he was most always eating. The shadowy Merrech on the other hand, still almost completely hidden beneath his dark blue cloak and its drawn hood, declined the offer, remaining unmoved where he had stopped upon entering the room.

‘This is great,’ Baelin mumbled after selecting at random one of the foods from the table to sample. ‘The Emperor sends his regards and thanks for this invitation to Novacom,’ he continued, returning to the conversation at hand before he managed to completely forget why he had been sent here, ‘though he was unfortunately too busy to attend himself. I suppose you have probably also heard of the recent attack on our military forces by the Undershi Empire?’

“Please Lord Merrech be seated, it is Customary as host to see to the comfort of my guests, I can assure you the chairs do not have teeth," smiling with hidden mirth at the thought before stepping out into the alcove and gesturing to one of the well padded strangely formed chairs, "And I had indeed heard of the attack, our condolences go out to those who fell, conflict is far too frequent as of late," his voice dropping in pitch slightly as he clasped a clear glass cup full of the by now familiar strange colored Novan tea, "We all must bear our losses with stoicism, even those most dear to us," he continued, with a somewhat gloomy hint at his own loss in the last war.

Stretching out a well muscled arm concealed within a loose hanging tunic sleeve he clutched at a layered pastry like rod bizarrely colored with shades of green and red before biting into it delicately, evidently expecting a squirt or some kind of dripping, "You'll find our cuisine is quite unique full of flavor yet you could gorge yourself on it and not ruin your health, it's part of the reason why you won't find an obese Novan," he mentioned conversationally, smiling as the sun shone brighter, setting the city below ablaze every building glimmering in the sun shining to the sky in a rainbow pattern the sleek yet elegant crystal structures glinting in the radiance.

"I suppose we'll eventually have to get to business, but we can delay it for a short time, I am not unaware of the harrowing and rather frigid time you've had in Irathia," he mentioned offhandedly, he knew it was a loaded phrase, the Xharnian's were an open book to the Zimtaren, between them and the Black Skull Enforcers the last wars legacy allowing rather easy work for them in comparison to other nations, "I trust the temperature is acceptable, the Novan summers are usually quite hot, it's the part of the reason behind our architecture for ease of ventilation," tilting his head slightly as he sipped some of his bubbling brew.

OOC: Hey, my net screwed up the other day and i'm having trouble fixing it so i'll get a post up as soon as i can but.

With a nod of acknowledgment Merrech moved across to the indicated chair and seated himself, if for nothing more than to put the Novan at peace and save himself from enduring more offers of comfort. ‘Do you have enough condolences left to spare?’ he asked, having detected the man’s personal connection to his words about stoicism.

Baelin on the other hand was too busy making sure he tried at least one of all the Novan foods to read too much into Denteth’s words and so took Merrech’s question in a more verbatim sense. He quickly decided to step in and explain the situation before his colleagues words, coupled with the typical soft, icy manner in which he spoke (often enough just by itself to send a chill down a persons spine) could be taken as rude. ‘We are still unsure as to exactly how many are dead, and sporadic battles are still taking place in the far corners of the theatre, but estimates are it will be in the tens of thousands or roughly eight times the total dead from all the Empires past wars this century added together.’

‘I’m afraid I am unsure as to what transpired on the trip to Xharn, save the final outcome of the meeting,’ he added quickly to change the subject, ‘High Councillor Saroir was responsible for that alone, though I did hear that the Xharnian leadership were actually quite pleasant. There was some not so good cooments regarding their intelligence agents however.’ Baelin briefly surveyed the table of food again before picking up another strange item and popping it into his mouth, ‘But this food is great,’ he continued rather randomly, ‘and the temperature is quite adequate, thank you.’

He picked up another piece of Novan cuisine and bit into it. ‘I don’t suppose you do delivery?’ he asked hopefully.

OOC: There we go. Sorry for the wait. I've got exams next week until wednesday so probably won't be on again until after that, but once thats done I'm free to be online whenever now that my computers fixed.

Bump

“I always have condolences to share,” he replied strongly waving a hand to the food motioning for the pair to eat, “Stoicism is part of our culture, when a society has existed for nigh on ten millennia a certain amount of,” Pausing as if searching for the correct word in English, “well shall we say acceptance for the inevitability of death is a given, what is important is how they contributed to the next generation, those brave soldiers,” emphasizing soldiers and not gender, “Gave their lives to protect your empire, to ensure your citizenries continued happiness, there can be few better ends.”

He replied off handedly sipping away at a fizzing purple drink in a long thin glass, with etchings that seemed to dance across the surface like the tentacles of some aquatic creature, groping for a fresh meal, his eyes hooded in thought as he cast a glance over the sprawl below and the high noon sun harshly staring down upon them all, Times like this make me understand the need for a god when others looked up at the skies thinking why, but even then, such a need is ill founded, he casually reflected, as he offered drinks from a nearby tray filled with exotic Novan beverages.

“Ah Good, you’ll find most Novans prefer a slight chill to the air in the summer, too much heat is bad for a person, and the coolness keeps the mind sharp, never a bad thing, especially when discussions turn heated, which they do occasionally on sensitive issues, but as you will probably expect of us, they rarely do, we speak plainly and get to the point fairly quickly, it benefits nobody to speak in riddles for one’s own interest,” he replied simply to Merrech’s earlier words, quite comfortable in his chair, which like the rest of the furniture in the chamber seemed strange new modern, yet somehow unusually traditional, the Novan standards were so alien to many, it was often hard to tell.

Oho, you are a funny one,” Denteth chuckled at the remark about delivery, “I’m sure we’ll be able to come to some arrangement, you’ll forgive me however if I don’t personally deliver Moerthnay, Laetorneth or Kaivullie,” his lips dancing around the delicately pronounced words.

“I have serious doubts about the benign nature of the Xharn high command, anyway can put a party face on, and that pack of vipers certainly can, the version I received, painted the affair as rushed with excessive displays of the bunker mentality by a regime forever looking over it’s shoulder for when we finally decide to wipe them out for good,” Pausing to chew over a delicately cooked tube of meat filled with a very crunchy silver colored vegetable, “I am sure that the implications of ours and theirs continued state of war was a consideration when the treaty was signed, tell me, what are your opinions on the issue?” he asked off handedly holding a hand up to that ever brightening sun in the skies.

‘That is just as well,’ Baelin replied taking a pause from eating to procure one of the drinks Denteth was offering. ‘You’ll find most Yallakians very much agree with that mentality. There are too little hours in a day to talk in circles. Of course, sometimes problems do arise when others take our bluntness to be rudeness, but what would th….’

An abrupt beeping noise emanating from beneath the High Councillors cloak stopped him mid sentence, probably a fortunate event seeing as he was undoubtable about to say something negative about foreigners, a category which technically the Novan Suprainister would be included in. Pulling aside the dark blue garment, he withdrew a small rectangular device that had been attached to his belt in a black leather case, which the keen eyed Novan would probably be able to recognise as a military issue Imperial personal communicator. Concern could be easily seen on his face as he read the transmission, but after a few moments he merely returned the device to its case, gave Denteth a quick smile and then continued on as if the message hadn’t happened. Though something still troubled him he now had the composure to hide it properly.

‘Your hostilities with the Xharnians was considered, yes. I’m sure their main reason for joining the Empire was undoubtable similar to one of our own reasons – an alliance with us would be a deterrent to the resumption of war between you and them. The Imperial Government believes that Xharn may be a useful entity to have available, and that its relations with Automagfreek may also be considered something of worth.

Baelin glanced back at the food, but passed it over this time without a second thought. ‘Personally, I agree for the most part. I’m also sure you’ll agree that the Xharnians pose no real threat to your nation, so it is my hope that you will consider perhaps permanently ending these hostilities. In a peaceful manner of course,’ he added hastily. ‘They have of course postured and threatened but it is merely the only way they know to save face in spite of the beating you gave them.’ He smiled uneasily again, squinting slightly at the sun while he put his untouched drink down.

‘I’m sorry Suprainister, but there is something I must ask you.’ The High Councillors voice now betrayed the seriousness and urgency with which his next comment should be taken and his eyes held a determination that could even have pierced Merrech’s veil of secrecy. ‘The Emperor demands that I find out your intentions regarding the ViZion/Doomingsland conflict which Novacom has recently voiced an intention on entering. Yallak has committed itself to this war and if Novacom enters on the side of our enemies then we may have a serious problem.’

OOC: About that last paragraph, not sure if you intended this meeting to be happening in fluid time (before the ViZion thing) but I figured it was easier to do it here than have my government contact yours in another thread.