NationStates Jolt Archive

For those people who knew much about the Federated Klatchian Coast, there was a Christmas Party on for world leaders in their Capital in the Southern Vrakian city of Port Olympus. It was an open invitation to Ambassadors and Senior Politicians the world over, and the Federation was using it's substantial budget to get things flowing nicely.

The Party was being hosted within the expansive ballroom of the Presidential Palace, now the Residence of a certain Caroline ab Ieuaf, a Dyelli Beybian, recently elected President of the Federation.

The place was abuzz with Klatchian politicians of varying ranks, lit from above by three massive chandeliers that cast reflections of the guests on the polished wood floors. A massive red carpeted staircase at one end let down into the room. Anyone of significance would be announced as they appeared. So far that had been 'Vladimir Dzerzhinsky', Ambassador for the State of Dyelli Beybi.

"No, don't get up." the security guard, a fairly nondescript Vrakian human did manage to pull off something approaching a bow in his chair.

The monitors in the security room were abuzz with images of everywhere in the Palace. Heavily armed guards were stationed at key points to keep anything from going wrong. They had been discreetly moved away from the Ball room where absolutely no weapons were permitted.

Caroline ab Ieuaf, the new President of the Federation stood in the doorway to the security room before walking in to examine the monitors. She was 28 years old, far too young for her position as far as most outsiders were concerned. But they did not know the volatile state of Dyelli Beybi... People got a lot of life experience very quickly.

She was wearing a somewhat low cut, black evening dress that clung to her figure provocatively. She was attractive, knew it, and had used it to further herself, although ironically not while running for President.

She leaned forward across the monitors, a stray wisp of blonde hair falling across her cheeks, "Zoom in on him." she tapped the glass over the image of a man.

The image zoomed in the man, who despite having been told it was black tie and formal, and indeed despite having stuck to the dress code, still managed to look like some kind of street thug.

"Vladimir." she mused.

He was about average height, with thin weaselish features, a tie which seemed to be loose and a creased white shirt. He didn't look like he'd shaved before turning up at the function. Nevertheless he carried himself with confidence, "What on earth is that man smoking?" Caroline asked in disgust.

"Roll your own Ma'am." the Guard replied.

Caroline grimaced. She had delicate features, typical of her race, a pleasant round face and blue eyes. She was also wearing contact lenses, although nobody needed to know that, "You think he'd be able to afford branded cigarettes... let us leave the esteemed Mr Dzerzhinsky alone for a minute... focus on the door. I want to see when someone I actually want to talk to arrives."

"Yes Ma'am."

In truth there was more to the party than met the eye. The Klatchian Federation needed new States. There would be alcohol and food in huge supply, as well as a lot of Senior Klatchians extolling the virtues of joining the Federation. There was no pressure. It was just... optimal. Klatch needed more States involved in order to keep it's massive military funded and to keep events like this carrying on...

... Plus of course it gave the opportunity for Klatchian Politicians to meet the President, which most hadn't yet managed to do.

As usual, the Vrakian king did not deign it necessary to visit this conference. Whether it was customary for the Vrakian kings never to leave the state’s borders or whether he was following in the footsteps of his predecessor, one cannot quite tell. It should bear mentioning that the previous king went mad and the rumours that circulated the taverns, offices and pretty much were people gathered that the Order of Bok were gaining an undue influence over the king. As well, no one could really tell with the current king although his opening speech was received quite well.

Still, there was and still is a major reorganization of not only the military but also through all levels of government. The old style ministries were brought back, of which some were not particularly keen on. Which meant that a new Minister would be attending, along with some old faces from the Diplomatic Corp – which has subsequently been folded into the Ministry of Rites.

Jur Ratyuig, former Ambassador in the Diplomatic Corps was the same Ratyuig that showed SHODAN of Scolopendra one Great Blood War Scroll, which was the first time in over five hundred years that an outsider ever got to see such a document. It was a major sign of trust for any Vrakian to do that, and he wondered if that trust had been misplaced since after the treaty signed with that nation, nary a word have been heard since. His new title now was The Honourable Minister of Rites of which he still tried to pronounce since that particular combination of words in English was a tongue-twister to him.

He pondered this as he waddled about the conference area, careful to avoid squishing anyone with his walrus bulk. Accompanying him was Ipshi Hagwonak, a legend in the diplomatic corps and one that actually passed over the job for minister, preferring to retire. Although, no walrus can pass up a free banquet.

The usual entourage of King’s Own, Vrak’s elite special ops, clad in Royal Dress were with the two walruses, along with the twin brother Inuit bodyguards Tronk and Tronj. Tronk being the smaller at six and a half feet while his brother was three inches taller. Both wore black tuxedos and expensive cufflinks. Tattoos of spiders and wolfs decorated the back of their hands, suggesting that each one was heavily tattooed. No SOATs were present, since it was suggested that their presence might likely send the wrong signals to the newcomers.

“So, that is our new president, eh?” remarked Jur quietly to Ipshi in Vrakian and gazing at Caroline ab Ieuaf.

The new President didn't exactly carry herself with what might be described as Presidential dignity, she just didn't manage to look like a Politician... but she was a Dyellian. The Dyellians never seemed to quite get the idea of how they were supposed to look, especially on formal occasions, as might be vouched from the scruffy figure of Dzerzhinsky who right now was trying to roll a fresh cigarette on the buffet table.

The waiters dithered about him, uncertain whether to ask him to take his tobacco elsewhere or to just clean up the mess afterwards. They opted for the later, darting behind him with a silver dustpan and broom as the Ambassador turned to light his creation.

He was ignored by the President, who instead glided over to the Vrakians, a radiant smile on her face, "How do you do? You must be the delegation from Vrak, Caroline ab Ieuaf. I'm very pleased you could make it here."

Subconsciously, the Vrakians tended to equate size with power. This is why their previous king was so fat and why long ago they viewed the Polaris, or otherwise known as the Polar Bears, as equals. It also explains why they still have a paranoia of the North Sea, since some believe that the Orcas have not been completely exterminated. So, this waif of a…well…girl…did not seem capable to govern her own affairs, much less the unruly Klatch. Thus, the Vrakians were also quite chauvinistic in their outlook although they were pragmatic. Women did serve in the Vrakian military and were given lip service on their roles as mothers of the sons that served. Some were more progressive minded, such as the two walruses that were before the President. After all, they did respect power in the form of political office but remained suspicious because ab Ieuaf was a Dyellian. The Vrakians were not above machinations, which described much of the Klatch, but they tended to be more…forward and brutally honest than others. Still, they were on stage at the moment. How would this proud, stiff-necked race react?

Both walruses bowed, but not too lowly. Jur Ratyuig was the first to raise his great head up and then spoke in his rich baritone voice,

“All hail the President of the Klatch! I am Jur Ratyuig, Honourable Minister of Rites. My colleague is Ipshi Hagwonak, Chief Ambassador of the Vrak Diplomatic Corps. As you may or, well, may not know since we are somewhat insular, our government has undergone some restructuring. Which means that the Ministry of Rites now controls the Diplomatic Corps, unlike before. But that is hardly important at this time. What is important is this gathering of fellow Klatchians and hopefully meeting newcomers.”

“Indeed,” chimed in Ipshi, “We have sent out contacts of our own but, unfortunately, many of the nations that we’ve had dealings with have faded away. The new nations that now populate this era we’ve had little contact with.”

The Emperor, young at his age of 27, was the second emperor of Latica. His pride was surpassed only by his cruel and effective means of getting what he wanted. He had raised death camps and enslavement operations disguised at a group of police merely cracking down on an national gang. These abilities made Xion Rien greater than his father, Airch.

True, Airch had orchestrated the coup on Latica, but at the cost of nearly half of his forces and it took several years. Those several years had brought the economy of Latica down to nearly nothing, even worse than it was before the war. The damned old Prime Minister of Latica had nearly caused the economy to implode on itself due to the fact he was just slightly afraid of war and wanted to scare them away.

This is where the Prime Minister, his father, and he similiarized. As they all feared war. From most of their regimes their troops were trained to fight real war battle, but had no expierence, thus thier weapon's field training had to be done by other, un-trust worthy companies. One of these companies, was the Mayflower Corporation.

Xion Rien the First did not like this corporation as it was becoming the dominate power, after taking over the Neo-Panzer Battle Tank line and making one hundred, eighteen billion USD from one buy. This had made their money more than half of the Latican Empire's dence budget.

The Mayflower Corporation, Xion Rein for saw as a problem, and he would need allies. These allies would have to be one threw actual personnal contact. The Klatchian Christmas Part provided a perfect oppurtunity. And so Xion Rien the First flew off to the party with an escort of twenty higly-trained Jimuhn Imperial Guards.

The irony was that ab Ieuaf was tall by the standards of Dyellian women... which didn't mean tall by anyone else's standards.

"It is indeed an honour." she bobbed respectfully, "Minister, Ambassador."

Dyellians were good at machinating (usually in the form of cooking up some totally illegal way to scam their fellow Klatchians), but equally good at putting their foot in it. It seemed though, that the new President was trying to act appeasingly towards the Vrakians

"I had heard rumours." she remarked casually, "Yes, it's with strange irony that I, a... moderately young person, find myself the figurehead of what is one of the World's most ancient Institutions."

She laughed lightly, "You know, it is one of my goals during the early months of this Presidency to do an extensive field trip to all the key states, to allow myself to really come to grips with how the individual Governments are feeling."

"Vrak." she added, "Is top on my list. I think it is very important, especially considering the last President was a Vrakian, may his sould rest in peace."

----------

Xion Rein had come to the right place. The Klatchians were an unusual collection of dictatorships, highly liberal democracies and everything in between. What they were good at was looking the other way for the good of the Federation. Sure they plotted and backstabbed to make Byzantium proud, but it was more in the eternal wrestling match to come out top dog in the Federation. At the end of the day they usually stood by one another... usually. There had been bad blood recently.

The Jimuhn Imperial Guards were politely requested to wait outside the Ballroom in a nearby room, although close enough to come in at a moment's notice. The new President was nervous of weapons. She knew all too well the potential for armed groups to get nasty, and didn't want to turn the evening into a massacre. She was after all a Dyellian, and Dyelli Beybi had something of a poor record for 'blue on blue' incidents.

Xion Rein was announced, and immediately seemed to draw the attention of the scruffy looking lout with the cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He also caught a glance and smile from the President, although she was engrosed talking to two sentient Walruses. She looked like she'd introduce herself soon enough though... the scruffy man was already sidling over...

OOC: Am I the fat walrus, whose scruff? If so, mind if I make a physical description?

OOC: 5% of the population of Vrak are walruses. The scruffy fellow is Vladimir, I think. Anyhow, feel free to check out the NS Wiki article on the FKC.

The Lord Governor of Maraque always loved a good party. Especially at his tender age of just 26 years old, which in Imperial standards was quite young when every former Emperor before him besides his father was well into their eighties before taking reign.

"Ah, a Christmas party," the Emperor thought out loud. "This will certainly be a good time."

"Yes my Lord. It shall be," Tatenda, his assistant and wingman said.

"When are we getting off this plane? You know how much I hate planes, and every moment I spend on them I get crazier," the Lord Governor said.

"We'll be there momentarily, my Lord."

"I hope so!" The Lord Governor said.

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

After some time, they eventually made it to the party, and exited their vehicle. Dressed in a crisp black suite with a dark red silk tie and gray dress shirt behind, he grasped his girlfriends hand and went on.

Office of the Minister of External Affairs, Arn-Maciska, several days earlier

Lady Valdir, Minister of External Affairs, sighed and shook her head.
"No."
"But-"
"No. Just because we may be fond of the Klatch doesn't mean that we trust them. No. I am not going, you are not going."
Baroness Aryet sighed. She knew a losing battle when she saw one, but kept trying anyway.
"It's just a Christmas Party," she smiled. Valdir raised an eyebrow. "Actually, more of a celebration of the event, and a gathering between statesmen," Aryet hastily amended. The word "party" had connotations.
"It's a chance to meet with a variety of Klatchian politicians and diplomats and-"
"-be robbed at gunpoint?" Valdir interrupted. Aryet winced. Clearly Valdir was still nursing ill will over the Squall Straits. She wisely remained silent while the Minister shuffled papers.
"Fine. Send someone. Not you. Bishop Aidne, or Dominus Caoláin. Or that nice Lord Sakir. Oh, and someone from Duke Street. Someone... notable."
"Yes, Minister. Thank you, Minister"

************

Klatchian world leaders Christmas Party, present day

The SIS guards cheerfully waited with the other foreign guards, ignoring them completely; the diplomats themselves handed their ceremonial swords to the guards. Not that they suspected the door staff, but the blades were sharp, and their own guards were experienced at handling them.

One of the ever-present Imperial protocol officers whispered the correct forms of address to the herald; his Excellent Lordship, the Envoy Lord Vadin Sakir of the Covenant, and His Supreme Excellency, Sir Edmund Foxworth, Lord-President of the States-General.
Vadin was of above average height, but not tall. His hair, cut short and styled neatly, was a dark brown, with a reddish tinge. His face wasn't handsome enough to stop traffic, but still pleasing to the eye. Speaking of eyes, his were a light green, ever watchful, and as cold and hard as the Vrakian winter.
Foxworth was clearly the elder and senior; his hair was silver, and receding. His face was delicately lined, and he projected a grandfatherly air. His eyes were blue, and as blank as mirrors. He was slightly taller than Vadin.
They were both clad in the clothes of the Macisikani upper classes; stove-pipe silk hat, pressed black suit that would have been at home in 1900's England. A shirt the colour of red wine, and a silken tie of red and black patterning for Vadin, a light green silken shirt with a graded black-through-green tie for Foxworth. Over this was a light cloak, sable. They both had canes, though Vadin seemed too young, and something about Foxworth's gait seemed to belie any need for it.

An unremarkable man, General of the Home Guard and Arch Arsonist of Mer des Ennuis, Adam Wincenty, was an intelligent man. Seizing power after the assassination of the great Carpathia Ziemowit, father of Mer des Ennuis, and his deputies, his reign had been marked by peace and prosperity. A young 38, he had risen to his post by the sword, and took power when the opportunity presented itself. He was unremarkable as a person, with few distinct features save for his steely eyes. After hundreds, if not thousands of battles and contacts, little shook him. Without the rumblings of discontent in the Sea of Troubles that threatened the nation, Gen. Wincenty had turned his attention abroad, and what better way to expand international relations than with a Christmas party?

And so it came to be that the 14th Amphibious Assault Group, carrying Maj. Gen. Renata Lyudmila's 345th Mechanized Division, sitting just outside the territorial waters of the Federated Klatchian Coast, watched the massive Yacht "Illuminatus" depart for Port Olympus. Should the shit hit the proverbial fan, 16,000 rapid-response units would slam the port city to ensure the safety of their leader. Though nothing was expected to happen, these were dangerous times indeed.

An hour and a half later, Adam Wincenty, in full dress uniform, was escorted out of the 4th car in a 5 car convoy. Flanked by 15 guards, he entered the ballroom building. He turned to one of the guards.
"Major, you’ll accompany me in. Stand back at least 10 feet, stay inconspicuous. Turn over your weapon to one of the men, least we offend or surprise our hosts in the slightest. This is our first major international engagement since Ziemowit’s death, and I don’t want to fuck it up. You know the panic signal?”
While handing over his DAC-97-II SMG, he replied “Affirmative, sir.”
After turning over his chromed L-26 pistol, Wincenty walked into the ballroom, and looked around.

Jur smiled and replied,

"Ah, well, The Strange has called him away and there he shall live by feasting on the flesh of his smitten foes. A no better fate for any Vrakian. But now we, and I mean we as a truly united FKC nation, can move forward. I must say this idea..." and he spread one flipper as if encompassing the entire ballroom, "is quite novel. I hope good results come out of it."

====

As the President and the Minister were engaging in chit chat, Ipshi turned his head slightly as the new entrants were announced. Gente Del Agua...Maraque...Macisikan...Mer des Ennuis...all unfamiliar except one. At that one seemed to vacilate between indirect support of the Klatch or at least giving the facade of neutrality to lately, condemnation. So, it was with surprise that he heard their name and he gave an involuntary start. He would talk with them later hopefully but right now, he turned his attention to the first newcomer, that of Emperor of Gente Del Agua. Out of the corner of one eye, he noticed that Tronj, who lingered behind with Jur was quietly speaking into his mic. No doubt he was reporting the names of the entrants to a VIS operative who was relaying that information to headquarters. Every nation that entered would be quietly investigated by the VIS in regards to background, alliance connections, economic strength, and whatever else the analysts deemed important (ooc: just me doing a search through threads and looking for any wiki entries. :)). Macisikan already had an extensive file which was seemingly growing every day.

====

Ipshi waddled forward to the Emperor of Gente Del Agua in a purposeful but hopefully non-threatening manner. The sight of a 1800 kilogram talking walrus tended to alarm some people, especially outsiders and Ipshi was well aware of any possible miscommunication that could result. So, he nodded his head and said,

"Welcome to the Klatch, Emperor. I am Ipshi Hagwonak, Chief Ambassador of the Vrak Diplomatic Corps. With me is my aide, Tronk."

He indicated with one flipper the imposing Inuit bodygaurd who gave one brief nod to the Emperor. After all, his job was to protect and not play diplomat.

"I trust that your journey went well? The Klatch is, for many nations, a remote and often misunderstood place," continued Ipshi.

Christmas party? Christmas party?!

Ever consider the non-Christian leaders of the world? Myself I am a Jewish man, born and raised. In the temple was where I spent most of my days. Shootin' out, maxin, relaxin all cool. Readin' the torah, yeah I always ruled. 'Til a couple of goys, they were up to no good. Never eatin' kosher in my neighborhood. I got in one little fight and my mom got scared, and said you're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Broma!

~Premier Mikhail Cohen

Christmas party? Christmas party?!

Ever consider the non-Christian leaders of the world? Myself I am a Jewish man, born and raised. In the temple was where I spent most of my days. Shootin' out, maxin, relaxin all cool. Readin' the torah, yeah I always ruled. 'Til a couple of goys, they were up to no good. Never eatin' kosher in my neighborhood. I got in one little fight and my mom got scared, and said you're movin' with your auntie and uncle in Broma!

~Premier Mikhail Cohen

The Offices of the President recieved the message and rolled their eyes. All the Senior beaurocrats were away so they felt no particular guilt in taking the piss out of some stupid foreigner who seemed to fancy themselves as some kind of rapper.

Statement from the Offices of the President of Klatch

While other Religions are regarded as equally valid, the PResident of Klatch is a Roman Catholic and as such, it is felt has the right to celebrate her own religious festivals. Were the President a follower of Hat the Vulture Headed God of Unexpected Guests or any other such group, it would equally be right and just that she celebrate such festivals.

Yours respectfully,
Dr. Crippen.

OOC: Like Vrak said... The walrus is literally a Walrus, one of the Vrakians. The scruffy one is Vladimir Dzerzhinsky, the representative for Dyelli Beybi. As opposed to Caroline ab Ieuaf who is the President of the FKC, a group of semi-Independent states including Dyelli Beybi and Vrak.

The President idly wondered if Vrakians feasted on the flesh of smitten foes in this life as well as the afterlife, she didn't really know, it would definitely be interesting... "Credit where Credit is due, the Karmanyakans came up with the idea, although I see they don't seem to be present which is a pity."

She paused briefly, "Yes, a truly united Klatch is something I think we all want, definitely. Let us hope my Nationality goes some way to keeping the Southern States behaving themselves."

"Well Ambassador." she remarked, with something of a conspiratorial tone, "I suppose we should mingle with our non-Klatchian guests if we are to turn this little venture into profit."

She bobbed to him again, "No doubt we'll have the pleasure of speaking again before this evening is out."

She moved out into the crowd, angling towards the Emperor of Gente del Agua, Lord Governor of Maraque and General from Mer des Ennuis. She figured one of the three would probably seek her out. After all she was the President of the Federated Klatchian Coast, a Union of 12 Semi-Independent States many of which had long, colourful and glorious histories.

Vladimir Dzerzhinsky on the other hand, the actual representative for Dyelli Beybi had decided to hang around near the bar and drink himself into oblivion. It was rather more fun, and he wasn't relishing the prospect of having to deal with the delegation from Macisikan who he rather hoped to avoid.

Foxworth was occasionally glancing around. He'd directed a puzzled frown at Dzerzhinsky, as if he couldn't quite recall who the other man was. The Klatchian President had received a small smile, and the walruses a salutary nod. Then he'd ambushed a waitress and secured a glass of champagne.

Sakir's gaze drifted across the room once, then focused on the Lord-President; Dzerzhinsky had been passed over in favour of the wallpaper. And Lord Sakir had acquired a glass of orange juice from somewhere. The two were now drifting aimlessly around the room, their small company keeping silent station behind them.

Conversation between the two envoys was muted and inconsequential, and conducted in their native tongue.

OOC: Sorry for the short post, just finished a final and need a nap. This was intended to be directed at the Vladimir Dzerzhinsky character, who sounds Polish/Russian enough.

Gen. Wincenty stood dumbstruck halfway across the ballroom staring at the giant creature that apparently held some high office. "The hell did I get myself into?" he thought, before wandering to the well-stocked bar. Diplomacy in Mer des Ennuis, as it was in the Ennusian homeland of Eastern Europe, was often conducted out of a vodka bottle. He stood next to a well dressed diplomat who had already started to drink.
"Bar keep, vodka martini. 5 parts vodka, 1 part gin, 1 part Red Curaçao."
Turning towards the diplomat, he gave an easy salute.
"English ought to do here." he thought.
"Adam Wincenty. Arch Arsonist of Mer des Ennuis and General of the Home Guard. Who might you be?"

(OOC: Dyelli Beybi is a country with a somewhat mixed European background, by and large the aristocracy tend to have Welsh names. There is some quite distinct Eastern European groups, particularly in the North of the country)

"Welcome to the Federation Comrade" the scruffy man raised a glass in salute, it was filled with something green.

"Vladimir Dzerzhinsky, Ambassador for Dyelli Beybi, at your service." he offered a short bow, "That's the state South of here. Big desert in most of it, tough country."

"So you're knew here aye." he grinned broadly, "I see the Walruses catch your interest... don't worry about them they're well... I wouldn't say they're harmless, but they aren't going to bite you at a cocktail party. They've got plenty to trade, so does Dyelli Beybi if you like oil and metals."

"See the pretty blonde girl who looks like she's waiting for someone to approach her." he hiked a thumb at the President who was lounging against the bar and sipping at a glass of champagne while eyeing every foreigner in the room, "That is Caroline ab Ieuaf, the President of the whole Klatchian super-state. She is also a Dyellian. I used to work with her..."

He trailed off, "So tell me about your Country, I don't believe we in the Federation have had much to do with Mer des Ennuis."

"Sir, with all respect were're going to have to request that you relinquish your..."

"My guns? When you pry them from my cold dead fingers, you gutless, hippie..." The large, florid man was nearly bursting out of his maroon uniform, shaking with rage, making all the medals on his overdecorated chest jingle like sleighbells, one meaty hand set firmly on the .50 cal on his hip.

"Um, Field Marshal Turmus, might I remind you that guns are banned in the Empire of Dyelli Baybi. The fact you were allowed them in the country at all is a diplomatic courtesy and a sign of their good faith towards..." A mousy looking fellow in a gray suit muttered to the officer deferentially.

"Listen up, 'Ambassador', a real parsennan doesn't lay down his fighting spirit just because some lousy foreigners..." The Marshal begin to bark back.

"Igor, foretheloveofgod, could we have one Christmas, ONE, without an international incident, huh?" The tall, rail-thin man in the dark suit standing behind Turmus snarled under his breath. "Give the nice man your damn hand cannon, we're here to go to a party, not start a damn war!"

"But mister President..." Igor complained with the look of a small child being told to go indoors on a summer day.

"Give. Him. Your. Guns." The President hissed between clenched teeth.

"I don't believe you're giving in to..." Igor began.

"April 9, 1990. The Corto Maltese arms, Anathelas. 4:14 PM." The President leveled his gaze at the big soldier and muttered under his breath in Parsennan.

"Yessir." The Marshal seemed to deflate a little and demurely begin to give the security men his peronal arsonal.

The President straightend his tie and nodded to the concerned Federation diplomat standing just to the side of this altercation.

"You're expected, sirs?" The diplomat asked politely, his eyes darting over to where the Field Marshal was explaining to the guard to take special care of his Browning 1911 because was the one he'd killed his first communist with.

The little Parsennan diplomat opened his mouth to reply was cut off by the President. "Yeah. Delegation from Parsenna. Party of three? We called ahead."

"Ahh, yes, here we go. The Empire of Parsenna, from the Kyhber region to our south. President Vitalinus San Saxos, Special Ambassador to the Federation Clement Tinia, Field Marshal Igor Turmus and entourage. Follow me, sirs." He led them into the main ballroom of the Presidential Palace, the three dignitaries trailed by a coterie of black-suit goons hired more for their broad shoulders then their sparkling personalities.

"Gods, look at this bunch of stiffs." The President muttered snidely at his aide in low-towned Parsennan, "Alright, Clement, lets shake the hands, mention the new trade provisions and get the hells out of here before..." And stopped suddenly, as he saw President ab Ieuaf mingling with the crowd and meeting dignitaries, and a grin that was perhaps less then sanguine split his thin face. "New plan, Clement, we might be staying for a while..."

"Why are we here again, honey?"

"Gregov is off on some world tour, but he wanted us to be represented here. I dunno why we need to be at some event celebrating a rediculous religious holiday, but... whatever. Foreign relations and all that."

Francois Carpentier was the 48 year old head of the council of chellis. A very powerful position, similar to a prime minister. The son of French Immigrants to Chellis, he was a 3rd generation Chellian. Though he spoke in perfect Chellian, his parents only spole French in the home, and he considered the language his primary tounge.

"Monsieur, nous avons arrive."

"C'est bon." Francois said, as their limo arrived at the event. "Nikol, no flirting. Not even with the other women. This is a political event, ok?"

"Oui, je sais, je sais."

The two made their way towards the ballroom.

The Lord Governor, completely ignoring his wife, who mindlessly went off to seek conversation with someone else, went over to the bar.

"Lord Governor of Maraque, how do you two do?" The Lord Governor said. "I'll have the finest glass of wine you can muster," he said to the bartender.

The latest arrivals were assessed and dismissed in the same glance.
We're on our second circuit of the room, aren't we? Foxworth asked quietly.
Yes, Sir Edmund.
Is the walrus free yet?
Sakir looked around. Still being monopolised.
And the only other Klatchians of note are their President, and the vagrant by the bar... who are the others?
No idea.
I suppose we'd better make small talk with someone. Frankly the waiting staff here can't hold a conversation worth a damn.
The President?
Must we?
Business before pleasure.
With a subtle turn of foot, the pair angled directly for ab Ieuaf.
"A Merry Christmas Madam President," Sir Edmund said with a bow of his head as they approached. "I am Sir Edmund Foxworth, Lord-President of the Covenant. My companion, Lord Vadin Sakir, an Imperial Envoy."
The indicated man bowed from the waist and murmured "Merry Christmas". Something about his manner indicated that he would have kissed the back of ab Ieuaf's hand if it were offered.


OOC: The bits in italics are spoken in Ka'ani, not English.

"Well met sir, well met." Wincenty replied, taking his now-ready drink from the bartender. "I haven't traveled abroad much, especially for foreign relations. Our history is mostly isolationist, outside of paper contracts and arms deals. When our head of state died, the foreign delegations barely filled a pew." He took a sip, before muttering a curse in the dead language of High Enochian, and took another sip.
"We are a constitutional dictatorship. As leader, my word is law, but it is, quite frankly, much easier to let the Republican Senate run the country with my advice and consent." He looked at his pale red drink for a second, before downing it.
"Our nation is resource rich. We have veins of precious metals, uranium, and ores in the western mountains, oil in the east. This has naturally made us a strong base of manufacturing and trade, and its cost us. Kraven Whyatica led an invasion fleet and leveled many of our cities. Religious foreign terrorists and their Kraven brethren left hundreds dead in one of our schools. As such, to prevent such occurrences from happening, we've turned our country in to a veritable fortress."
He saw that Vladimir was somewhat bemused.
"Well Sir Dzerzhinsky, let me get to the point. A fortress, no matter how studry, can be besieged and worn down. Our ships may be sunk, our ports blockaded, and our citizens killed. Every leader needs friends, be they official or unofficial, and our friends are few and far between. Just like salads, Gunboats don’t win friends, Christmas parties do. ”

"Titanomagnetite." Dzerzhinsky explained, "The desert is full of it, and once we figured out how to actually refine it."

He laughed, "Mining is boring isn't it? Dyelli Beybi is a Democracy, although technically the head of state is the Tzarina at the moment. She will give up her executive powers within the next few months or she'll have another civil war on her hands. Doesn't mean she won't run for Prime Minister though."

In fact Dzerzhinsky had a very strong feeling she might, "She isn't here." he explained, "She's negotiating an end to the Civil War, so I'm here instead."

He gave a knowing smile, "Fortresses, yes we know all about those... interestingly, you know this Party was organised by the President for this very reason. She wants to rebuild the Klatchian Federation, which means she wants new blood. New States to sign the Klatchian Constitution and new Allies."

----------

Ab Ieuaf was begining to wish she could be in eight places at once, there were so many people she wanted to talk to...

"Merry Christmas to you both." she smiled engagingly at the pair from Macisikan, then did politely offer her hand (whatever else she had become, Caroline ab Ieuaf had originally been raised by a noble Dyellian family).

"I trust this evening finds you well?" she lowered her voice slightly, "Also I home the payments I promised have all been arriving promptly? The ships should be freed up by now, but there is a bit of a tricky situation going on. Nothing is ever simple eh?"

She didn't seem to have any problems with talking shop... Dyellians tended to be somewhat open about that.

The first thing San Saxos did was to drop Marshal Turmus off at the bar. Then, slow and smooth, like a good scotch, he started sliding through the crowd, deflecting possible distractions with a few blithe banalities. Making his way towards President ab Ieuaf, with Ambassador Tinia trailing desperately after him, like a tiny fishing boat tossed in an oil tanker's wake.

He approached Her Excellency, used one hand to slick back his salt-and-pepper hair and put on his best game face, waited until the perfect opening in the crowd and...

...was entirely cut off. By some silk-clad fop with a cane of all the things.

"Who the hell is this?" He muttered in Parsennan to Tinia, who'd just caught up to the long-legged politician. "And how quick can we blow him off. You know what we used to say back in the black market? Anyone who cuts me off at the pass gets cut off at the knees!"

"Uhm, sir," Tinia muttered back, "I think that would be a spectacularly bad idea. That's the the Envoy Lord Vadin the Lord-President of the States-General of Macisikan. They have an population base five times ours and the industrial capacity to match. If you really don't want to have an international incident tonight, this would be a good time to practice patience, sir."

"You've got some balls, Tinia, to talk to me like that..." San Saxos snarled at his subordinate in their mother tongue.

"Sorry sir, I.." Tinia swallowed nervously and turned pale. Well, paler.

"And its about time... first thing I've seen you do that shows you're Parsennan!" The President slapped Tinia on the back so hard he almost spilled his drink. Then he settled back, engaged one of the minor Vrakian delegates in an empty conversation and waited for his opening...

OOC: Oh, and following Macisikan's lead, the stuff in parentheses is in Parsennan, not english. Its related, distantly, to old Etruscan.

Foxworth's brows rose slightly while Sakir brushed his lips across the back of the President's hand. He collected himself as the envoy straightened, removing his hat and handing it to one of the protocol officers, who scooted back with it. Surely it was a coincidence: there was no way that ab Ieuaf, the host, could have realised that she'd just paid the two of them a great compliment by asking after their health first. He himself then smiled and also kissed her hand, his back protesting.
"Indeed madam President, we are both well. Are you well?" he paused for a moment to allow a reply, then smiled and continued.

"Of course you are right, simple is a six-letter word beginning with "s" that has nothing to do with our line of work. But," his voice lowered, "as for that other matter, affairs are being settled quite well. My own countrymen were rather miffed, but are happy the matter is resolved. I ought to tell you though, Lady Valdir's still rather irritated, as her MEA likes having their ships come home without any fuss - they're funny that way-" Sakir's lips quirked, "-but really, she's just annoyed at the extra work," Foxworth offered an elegant shrug.

"I take a different view, as does my esteemed colleague in the UIK. We think that this was just a terrible misunderstanding, and now that there is a competent, not to mention most charming, leader in Klatch," he inclined his head to the President again with a small smile, "it's all water under the bridge, and we shall be friends once more."
His obvious implication was that Sir Ozymandius, the previous President, was neither charming or competent.
"Indeed, if I may be so bold, madam President? A toast to friendship between our two states?"

Sakir's eyes had drifted to Dzerzhinsky. His expression remained blank, and his eyes cold; they noted who was talking to the Dyellian, then returned to the bar. He had instructions to have a little word with the Dyellian at some point. A commotion at the corner of his eye made him turn to see Tinia get a hearty slap on the back; the other seemed to take it in stride, so with a shrug Vadin turned back to the two Presidents.
Idly he wondered if ab Ieauf even knew what Foxworth's "line of work" was.

OOC: Parsenna: FYI - Sir Edmund Foxworth is the Lord-President. Lord Vadin Sakir is the Envoy.

"I really can't complain." ab Ieuaf smiled warmly, "I think I'm getting quite used to this cold climate."

"This would never have happened were I in Office at the time." she confided, perhaps this went some way to explaining the coldness between her and Dzerzhinsky, "It doesn't help to support the authority of Central Government, although perhaps ultimately something good will come of it. Peace benefits all of us, even our Eastern neighbours who seem so set on preventing it."

The compliment seemed to have caught her slightly off guard, she smiled, casting a modest glace downwards, "You really are too kind Lord-President... but no, I think that would be a very appropriate toast, although if I might be so bold as to make a slight addition to it?"

"May I suggest we offer a toast to friendship and to an accountable Klatch?" there was a certain promise behind the words, that the events in the Squall Straight were not about to be repeated if she had anything to do with it.

She tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. She had also noticed the Parsennans, who looked an interesting group, "President San Saxos?" she seemed to have been listening to the herald announcing people, as well as making a point of putting names to faces "Perhaps you will join us?"

She wanted to speak to everyone here. It was her party after all, what else would a good hostess do... although admittedly she had no experience whatsoever in being a hostess, much less a good one. This whole politics business was something new, she knew she had been nominated mostly because Dzerzhinsky wanted to get a key Royalist out of Dyelli Beybi during peace negotiations, but that was fine with her. The Klatchian Federation was infinitely more important than Dyelli Beybi and it's petty internal squabbles.

She stifled a giggle (that would have looked quite inappropriate), as she wondered how many people really knew what she had been up to for the last six years, since that rather fateful night when the whole of Dyelli Beybi had suddenly revealed Socialist leanings...

In the moments between ab Ieauf calling the Parsennans over, and their reaction, Foxworth seized his chance.

"Lord Sakir, would you give us a moment? Thank you," Foxworth sighed, as the other stepped back to discuss something with a staffer.
"Now that I don't have a Yuke breathing down my neck," he smiled, "let me be frank. We would like to engage the Klatch, but the MEA's efforts have not been that fruitful. The Vrak seemed keen to engage us, but the terrible death of their king has left them somewhat adrift. The rest, well..." he shrugged.

"Now I must confess," he smiled disarmingly, "I do have an agenda," his tone turned conspiratal, "I haven't told Lady Valdir about this, and she'll be rather annoyed with me for treading on her turf, but I would like to offer you, from the Covenant to the Federated Klatchian Coast, a treaty of friendship. I would like to offer an exchange of Ambassadors. I would hope that these offers lead to closer ties between us. Don't answer me now, just think on it."

He waved Sakir forward again, and turned slightly to face the Parsennans as they approached, his expression one of idle curiosity. He'd never even heard of them.

Jur Ratyuig could see that the President would be far busier than him at this gathering. Of course, being an attractive blonde with a plunging neckline tended to attract every single male in the room with their roving eyes. He smiled as he could see the Parsennan delegates striding their way. He politely excused himself as he gracefully let Foxworth, Sakir, and ab Ieuaf deal with the newcomers. He cast a sidelong glance at Ipshi who seemed to be, at least for the moment, engaging in a one-sided dialogue with the Emperor of Gente Del Agua. So, he swung his great head around and proceeded to the bar hoping to meet someone. Trailing him was the large, nearly seven foot stoic Inuit bodyguard. The small retinue of King's Own blended into the crowd but never far away.


I'll be away from the computer from Dec 22-27 for the holidays. No computer access to where I'm going so fair warning. I will be returning though so I'm not ignoring you if your character decides to strike up a conversation with either Jur or Ipshi.

OOC: Boy, I'm greedy... *yoink*

IC:
Foxworth waved Sakir forward; the other gently inclined his head towards the walrus, and received a slight nod in answer.

Leaving the Parsennans to the tender attentions of his Lord-President, Sakir approached the Minister of Rites, taking care not to get in the walrus's way.
"My lord Minister Ratyuig of Vrak," he said by way of greeting, doffing his hat, "honours to your house, and a merry Christmas to you."
A pair of protocol officers followed at a discreet distance; their superior seemed quite cheerful all of a sudden, and it was unnerving.

OOC: my access to the internet from Dec 22-28 will also be sket
chy because of the going-away-thing. I'll try to come online, but like Vrak, don't count on me turning up. Also like Vrak, I'll be back after that to keep going.

"I suppose I should have suspected as much; few events are purely for good will and politics does play a role... Bar keep! 3 fingers of your finest Scotch shaken over ice!" he called towards the bar. "Excuse me, where was I... ah yes, mining is indeed dull; we've recently discovered a lode of tungsten in the western mountains, and after a week of environmentalist meetings and mining lobbyists, I've just turned all related business to the Senate..."

Wincenty's eyes went cold, and his steely pupils constricted ever so slightly, and his convivial expression disappeared. "I seem to remember your name Sir Dzerzhinsky. You've been around for a while, and I seem to recall reading your name attached to a shipping scandal of sorts, and your demeanor suggests that you've outlasted many Presidents and Prime Ministers in this land. I imagine you are the puppet master of sorts for Dyelli Beybi, if not for the Klatchian Coast as a whole, and I'm rarely mistaken when it comes to people. So tell me about this constitution, and why you want the Sea of Troubles, which happens to be a good week and a half steam by our fastest ocean-going boats from the nearest outcropping in this Federation, on your side?"

As the Lord-President spoke, he would notice a slight smile forming on the Klatchian President's face. She also noticed the Parsennans weren't moving especially quickly, so took her opportunity...

"I'll let you in on a secret." her eyes had aquired a sparkle, she stepped forward, putting her left hand on Foxworth's shoulder.

A little voice at the back of her mind yelled she might be doing something offensive, but she shoved it away, leaning across to whisper close to his ear, "That, Lord-President is something I would definitely be in favour of. Our agendas you could say are the same. If you hadn't mentioned Ambassadors, I would have at some point."

She stepped back again, still smiling, "Don't worry, I don't need to think about it. I already have, more than you'd guess. What are you doing for breakfast tomorrow, perhaps you would like to join me?"

----------

"Very important in the light bulb industry, so I've heard." Dzerzhinsky remarked of tungsten... Dyelli Beybi had tungsten, it made light bulbs. It was quite possibly the world's leading light bulb manufacturer, but that was something he didn't particularly want to talk about. Mining was boring, but light bulbs were in a Kingdom of their own.

Dzerzhinsky put on his own poker face as the discussion changed, he shook his head, "Me, no, but my Father, well, he was, still is, an Institution. You could say I learn from the best."

"Perhaps." he acknowledged, "I do have some minor influence in Dyelli Beybi and in Dyelli Beybi, and waning influence in Port Olympus."

His eyes flickered momentarily to the President, apparently the source of his discomfort.

"The Constitution guarantees rights for the Individual states, gives Federal authority to castigate States who endanger the whole blah blah blah, but also means that the States that sign it have to pay money to Port Olympus." he explained, "About half of that goes into funding the Klatchian War Machine, and don't forget each State has it's own Military on top of the Federal one. Basically, the more people who sign and pay in, the better protected we all are."

The voice was worrying needlessly; Foxworth paid the familiarity no mind (though Mrs. Foxworth would have probably throttled ab Ieauf), and concentrated on the message.

"Call me Sir Edmund, please," he answered. "Breakfast tomorrow?" he smiled broadly. "I believe I shall be dining with you. We'll have to excuse Lord Sakir though, as the Yukes won't discuss business over the first meal of the day," his tone indicated that he didn't mind that at all.

The President tried something approaching a grimace. It didn't really work, she was smiling too much, "I'm sorry, I have to admit my knowledge of the customs of Macisikan are frankly non-existant. I honestly wish I'd had the time to study them before this evening."

She shrugged apologetically, "Put it down to my over-exuberance and barbaric Dyellianess." she joked.

"Speaking of Dyelli Beybi." she added conversationally, "What do you make of the latest regime to seize power?"

She was curious, and it also served to fill in the gap in the conversation before the Parsennans noted her invitation to join the group.

The Lord-President possibly knew that Caroline ab Ieuaf, often going by the assumed name Caroline Artois, had been in that movement from the start. She still had something of a vested interest in it, "Obviously, I like them." she smiled, acknowledging her connection with the Rebel Movement, "But I do have the promise of getting my house back, and the right to call myself Baroness without then having to check over my shoulder... although I am definitely interested to see how they are viewed from the outside."

The Lord-President did know of the connection; though Justina had nearly pitched a fit when he had told her he was going, she had still ordered Julia Perez to fill him in. Dear lady that she was.

Foxworth chuckled in response to the "barbaric" comment. "Actually, sera, you are rather mistaken. I am not Macisikani. Lord Sakir is, but not I. I am Akmadari. I'd say we do have much to discuss," his tone turned wry. "In any case, young Valdir has seen to it that there is precious little for you to study. They are a cautious lot, the yukes," he twitched his cloak, and smiled again.

"As for the new regime, we are partial to their success. Your ladyship's noble, and red, allies are viewed with greater favour then that pretentious little boy who styled himself "emperor"," his own smile remained broad. "Indeed, I understand that Lady Valdir is now just waiting for your announcement of victory to sign the forms recognising the new regime as the legitimate government," he seemed to gaze into the distance. "True nobles, working with and for the people, not over them."

"Tungsten has many uses other than lightbulbs; personally I prefer CF bulbs myself. Tungsten is much better spent on golf clubs or anti-dreadnought penetrators." Wincenty replied with a quiet, but stern voice as his still-lucid mind thought of a response to the changing conversation.
"I sense you have some reservations about this president of yours, possibly something you know that few of us here do that could dissuade prospective nations from joining the federation..." he said, letting his voice drop slightly towards the end, as he took a sip of scotch. "I'm not so ready to hand over the independance of the nation that I and my brothers-in-arms have paid for in blood defending from the Kraven heathens to be used as pawns..." he trailed off, muttering under his breath in High Enochian, before snapping back to reality. "I appologize. Tell me: what about trade pacts, defence agreements, and other diplomatic areas might exist between our fine nations?"

Leaving the Parsennans to the tender attentions of his Lord-President, Sakir approached the Minister of Rites, taking care not to get in the walrus's way.
"My lord Minister Ratyuig of Vrak," he said by way of greeting, doffing his hat, "honours to your house, and a merry Christmas to you."
A pair of protocol officers followed at a discreet distance; their superior seemed quite cheerful all of a sudden, and it was unnerving.

The Minister paused. Christmas was not celebrated in Vrak. In fact, some outsiders may consider Vrak to be a pagan nation, since they worshipped Bok the walrus god and his entourage, the Clam, the Octopus, and the Cantaloupe. But Jur was familiar with the holiday and replied,

“Ah…Merry Christmas to you to sir. Yes, it is a fine holiday if I recall correctly but alas, we do not celebrate it in Vrak. However…”

He was cut off quietly by the Inuit who spoke in low tones in their native tongue. Jur’s face crossed over from astonishment to seriousness, well, at least one able to read the expressions on a walrus. Still, one could make an educated guess that something major just occurred. The bodyguard then straightened out and began talking rapidly into his mic. His counterpart across the room moved his head slightly and then tilted his torso down to speak into Ipshi’s ear.

Jur inclined his head towards Sakir and then said,

“I must apologize but an urgent matter has come up. However, it is not so pressing that I cannot spare a few minutes. Again, I am sorry.”


ooc: what came up
http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=12120109#post12120109

Ab Ieuaf seemed vaguely suprised to hear that Foxworth was not Macisikani, "Please accept my apologies... I know little enough about Akmadari customs either."

She seemed even more suprised that the Royal Alliance should be viewed favourably, having mistakenly assumed they'd be permanently tainted by the dubious dealings of the likes of Dzerzhinsky, "I'd have to say that Alexia ap Adam is the most honest Dyellian leader I've ever met. She's young though, younger than me, and still full of idealism, who knows how she'll turn out in a few years? One can only pray she won't be tainted by politics. If she forms a political party I would put my money on her winning the elections. She has something of a magnetic personality."

"That toast then." she said, aware nobody seemed to be approaching the group, "To friendship and to an accountable Klatch."

She raised her glass, her eyes sparkling with ill-disguised enthusiasm for the potential of this short conversation.

----------

Dzerzhinsky chuckled, "No, none that would impact on her ability as President. One could say it is a personal matter between us. I have no doubt she will do her job well, with a gentle touch when needed, and with decisiveness on tough issues."
He listened intently to the talk on enemy Nations... it was something Dyelli Beybi could relate to...

"Trade agreements are best forged between the individual States." he paused, "Defence with the Federal Government, mainly because such deals with individual States are subject to Central Government approval anyway. I mean, what would you be interested in negotiating? I can set up trade talks with Dyelli Beybi if that is what you are looking at."

Sakir smiled and nodded.
"No doubt, ser. The business of government is ever ongoing," and this is why we have Deputy and Junior Ministers, he added in the privacy of his own skull.
"If I may be indulged for just a moment," he beckoned behind him, "and arrange to continue this conversation at a better time?"
A protocol officer stepped forward with a pen and pad of paper.

*********

Foxworth chuckled and waved away ab Ieuaf's apologies.
"No mind; it doesn't really matter," his tone was light, and his smile didn't fade.

He listened with interest to ab Ieauf's assessment of the Tzarina, and seemed slightly surprised.
"At some point I'm going to have to get someone to explain to me exactly what sort of arrangement your countrymen look to be setting up once you claim victory," he murmured. "Probably when I explain the nature of the Covenant. But yes, the toast."

He raised his own glass, and gently touched it to the President's.
"Friendship, an accountable Klatch, and many years of prosperity for us both."

After they'd tipped their glasses, he leaned in close and whispered in a conspiratal tone "You know, if I was Macisikani, we could get very drunk off the toasting alone, but don't tell Vadin I said that. He'll prove me right."

"It's quite simple really." ab Ieuaf confided, "She takes power, is crowned, then immediately resigns all executive power and in effect just becomes a wealthy land owner with no more political power than anyone else on the street."

She gave a sly smile, responding in a similar low whisper, "If I were a Dyellian I might well propose all kinds of toasts to everyone and everything from an end to poverty to Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer, just to try to get an excuse to drink a little more."

She paused, pulling off a look of serene innocence, "Believe me, I'm having to restrain myself."

It was at this point that a huge mass of grey haired muscle sidled up to the new President. Presumable one of the staff, "Would you excuse me for just a few seconds?" she asked apologetically, before letting him take her aside.

There was a brief whispered conversation. The young President looked very serious, nodding gravely along with the big employee. Foxworth might notice her wrapping a strand of hair around a finger, then releasing it and repeating. A nervous gesture.

She returned some moments later, "This concerns you too actually, Lord-President." she sounded slightly apologetic at the continued talk of business, "It's to do with this ridiculous Squall Straight fiasco."

"In an effort to prevent war, my secretary, Mr Delgado." she waved vaguely in the direction of the large departing man, "Has been authorised to take whatever steps he deems necessary in my absence. He has invited a Vaadian here to negotiate, I was wondering if you might be interested in joining me at the negotiations? Your Nation has an interest in the outcome, plus..."

She smiled with a suprising degree of warmth, "...I don't think I would be being too presumptuous if I said I think we understand one another and are singing from the same hymn book. All I want is to get those ships back home as quickly as possible, but I cannot allow Ilek-Vaad to treat employees of Federal Government as criminals as seems to be their want."

"What they seem to fail to grasp..." there was anger and exasperation in her voice (her mood had swung quickly at mention of 'criminals'), although she hadn't raised the volume, she didn't want to attract too much notice, "Is that what occured, though by no way shape or form being either remotely moral or good for the Federation or anyone concerned, was sanctioned by Parliament before I took Office. It is therefore legal and as such I cannot allow the workers concerned to be treated as pirates. If they were pirates, Ilek-Vaad could do what they liked, but they aren't which has put me in a difficult situation from the day I took Office."

She looked slightly flushed as she finished, "Sorry, I shouldn't be burdening you with that. I guess though, it can't hurt for you to get some idea as to what position I am taking with the Vaadians."

Foxworth laughed outright at the comment about toasting, and murmured "yes, of course," in answer to her request to be excused.

Those bright reflective eyes didn't miss a thing, and didn't reveal anything of what he was thinking. From outward appearances he was just another elderly aristocrat enjoying a quiet party.

He listened with a grave expression, muttering "here was I thinking it was solved," and then waving over one of his own attendants; there followed a very brief conversation in Ka'ani.

"And the Vaadians seemed like such reasonable people too," he sighed. His manner was disappointed, not angry. The attendant hovered next to his shoulder.

"I expect Justina is firing off messages to you and them trying to get everyone to put down their guns and start thinking," he shook his head slightly, "and the ink's probably drying on a neutrality declaration... not to mention the Stateholders would skin me alive if I made a foreign policy statement without their clearance," he paused, thinking.

"On the other hand, it always helps to have someone at the table who is friends with both parties, but neutral all the same," he nodded, "yes, I'll join you. And you have a point; we all want those ships home, trade resumed, and everyone to sheath their swords," he tapped his chin reflectively.

"My suggestion," he said slowly, "would be that they apologise for causing this fracas to nearly become a shooting war and detaining your officials, release anyone they've taken, and get out of your yard. In return you apologise to them as you did to us, blaming the person who presided over the deterioration in the first place, release any of their vessels that you're holding, and give an undertaking to keep the area in proper order. Make it clear they can't walk on your lawn, but you'll keep your dog out of their rose garden. You can word it in a way that's acceptable to them but doesn't actually give up any privileges," he paused again, thinking.

"Yes, that could work. After all, this is the season to be generous and forgiving... I'm sorry," he smiled, catching himself, "I forget that this isn't the Covenant... half of my job is to get everyone to play nice, lest they disturb His Serene Majesty's serenity," his lips quirked, "you see, when that happens a Viceroy usually turns up and it all gets very messy," he shrugged. "Occasionally they need reminding," his tone was that of a fond but exasperated parent. "So trying keep peace is a habit that's hard to shuffle into the background."

Ab Ieuaf nodded along with everything, eventually coming up with what she had though of herself, "I was going to ask them if they wanted to send a ship to observe, let them waste fuel if it keeps their precious egos intact."

She smiled, "I appreciate your opinion on these matters, just as I would appreciate your presence at the meeting. Let it never be said again that Klatch has a Unilateral foreign policy."

"Just between you and me." she leaned in closer again to whisper her message, "We've rigged all the ships with explosives. We can't let them think they can impose their will on us militarily, just because they happen to have caught the Federation at a bad moment. That is not how you do business in this Century, you go down diplomatic channels, negotiate and talk to people... You don't just swim along with a big ship and make demands. Furthermore if we let them get away with it, we'll have every tin pot Dictator from here to Timbuktu trying it on. If anything does get blown up we will refund 100% of the value of the ship and commission one of identical type and tonage to be built for the owners at the Port of their choice, on Federal budget... So effectively they double their money. It shouldn't come to that, though. Let us pray for a diplomatic outcome."

She was biting her lip now, another nervous gesture, "We don't want to alienate Macisikan or it's traders, but equally we cannot allow ourselves to get blackmailed, it would send entirely the wrong message to everyone."

Ab Ieuaf was giving a lot away in her expressions, quite unlike Foxworth. She was making no attempt to hide her feelings or plans and opinions that may not have gone down too well. It seemed she was trying the 'open' approach to politics. The Federation was steering in an entirely new direction.

"Dealing with Ilek-Vaad" she concluded, "Is like dealing with Khrushchev's USSR, or perhaps a tribe of neanderthals. They talk all nice to start with, but then it's all posturing and waving missiles and making demands. They don't understand compromise. If they don't get their way they threaten war."

She shrugged, "They have all kinds of nasty little institutions that anybody else would call terrorist networks that infiltrate states and try to set up pro-Vaadian Governments. They invaded Karmanyaka when they didn't like the Regime in that State. The Federation failed to act then. It will not fail again if they try invading one of the States. But we need time to organise and we need an unholy amount of weapons if we're ever going to keep their aggression in check."

"But I shall let you form your own opinion if they agree to this meeting." she grinned suddenly, "I'm hoping your presence as an observer will make them make some attempt to sound reasonable and allow us to force a peaceful settlement through."

Foxworth nodded.
"A consensus in international affairs leads to measured, thought-out, responses; the better sort I find," he sipped his glass, and again his tone turned serious; his eyes had widened almost imperceptibly when he was told of the explosives.

"Well, our problem will not so much the ships, as the cargo," he explained. "Some of those vessels have goods for sale in Klatch, others are resource haulers bringing your metals and materials to our factories. The loss of that is more likely to annoy people then the ships; vessels can be replaced, but the costs, time, and paperwork involved in replacing the cargo is going to make veins pop," he could hear the howls of the insurance companies already. "Just make sure you take them off before they reach our border," he smiled wryly. "The Defence Minister gets violent when people sail fire ships over the border."

"On the other hand, I understand your position; you cannot allow them to just walk in and take it upon themselves to police your waters. If you did..." he shook his head. "No, it would show you as weak to foreign nations, weak to your own states, and would undermine you personally for your entire term of office. Yet a shooting war right now with the Vaadians would wreck the resumption of trade, and in the short term..." he sighed. "I do not envy you. At least I can appeal to a common faith or monarchical power within the Covenant. No such luck with the Vaadians I'm afraid..."

He did seem surprised at her assessment of Ilek-Vaad, insofar as his impassiveness could be read. "Strange... our experiences with them have been more positive... perhaps we can solicit that goodwill, to help settle this peacefully... bloodshed at Christmas is somehow wrong, I feel."

Every expression, every tone of voice, every glance, of Foxworth's was deliberate and gauged. He'd risen to the top of the Covenant States-General; the Assembly had over four thousand delegates in it, and sitting above the podium as he was, he had to keep rigid control - there was always someone watching in the darkness of that Great Hall.

The irony with Caroline ab Ieuaf was that there was no reason she shouldn't be able to project a perfectly controlled image... apart from the fact that she didn't want to. Caroline had had significant experience in Intelligence, and in true Dyellian style had made the jump from Intelligence to Politics. That background wasn't too hard to figure out (although finding out what she actually did within that field was next to impossible). A photo match could be found with the Cheka's public records, although it raised the interesting question... How did Caroline ab Ieuaf look so healthy after having been listed as dead for close to a year, and why was she listed as Caroline D'Etienne?

She smiled and shook her head, "Give me the bill and I'll foot it. I will keep throwing money at this situation until it is cleared up. I want people to understand that the new Klatch is not so proud as to deny it has made a mistake and furthermore is willing to make ammends."

She nodded, then laughed pleasantly at Foxworth's assessment of her situation, "I think you have summed it up superbly. For me what happens here will stain the whole of that ridiculously long 20 years a President of the Federation is voted in for."

"Never fear." she added, with a continued smile, "The bombs will be gone as soon as we figure the Vaadians have given up on their plan to jump us."

"And like I said I'm somewhat relying on their goodwill towards you to allow you to be a moderating factor in all this." she was biting the corner of her lip again, "I hope I'm not jumping to the wrong conclusions when I say I think the best outcome for both of us is if the Vaadians just leave us alone and let us return stuff."

"Amen to that." she nodded in agreement with the sentiment regarding Christmas, "The Dyellians, apart from the D'Reg tribesmen, won't lift arms until January the 6th anyway, even if they were capable of it. They'll also refuse to fight over Easter. Very Catholic State."

Foxworth was aware, of course, of ab Ieauf's background. Some would have been mightily suspicious of her involvement in the Cheka. Foxworth merely hoped it was enough to prepare her for politics... and the "dead" period would have been helpful in avoiding Soult. Anyway, she didn't look (or smell) undead, so there was no problem. The mysteries of her name or earlier career were, frankly, none of his business.

A check on his own background would reveal six years as Lord-President, five as Secretary of the Assembly, three as the Akmadari Stateholder, and eight as a delegate for that nation. And then nothing; the records simply stopped.

He smiled broadly when she mentioned footing the bill.
"And that, sera, will soothe a lot of ruffled feathers in the worst-case scenario... or direct that ruffling elsewhere," he paused and gave serious thought to her next sentence, one hand stroking his chin.

"The best outcome is just to let you finish cleaning up the mess," he pronounced. "You seem to have it in hand, and the Vaadians ought to leave their brooms at home, rather then getting in the way," he twirled his glass. "They get in the way, start shooting things at you, trade is disrupted even more; they become part of the problem. His Serene Majesty's Governments might not move an inch for moral arguments, and I can count on one hand the number of nations with a legal claim, but they tend to become quite irate when someone touches their wallets," he chuckled at some internal joke. Judging by the look in his normally blank eyes, it wasn't very funny.

"Actually, I'll let you in on a little secret sera," he said, lowering his voice again. "No matter how angry they are, no matter what has been said, no matter what you've done, unless you've killed a royal scion or something similar, they are always, always, still willing to talk to you," his voice returned to normal levels. "Especially now; it is Christmas, a time for friends, family, and getting pleasantly inebriated by a fire. Or the barbecue, if you're in Arn-Maciska. A pool, if you're visiting us in Arn-Arakhan..."

"That is the idea." the President nodded amicably, "The last thing I want in my first month are ruffled feathers." she rolled her eyes at that, "Klatch is traditionally very good at ruffling feathers."

She continued nodding along to the rest, it all made sense and more or less agreed with what she wanted from the situation, ie the Vaadians to go back to their lands in the North and stop doing things that might cause a war.

"Well." she whispered, leaning in slightly closer herself, "I don't think I've killed a Royal scion, so I think we can keep talking."

"Do you have your family with you in Port Olympus?" she inquired politely.

She was also aware of the passage of time. She wanted a good night's sleep before getting down to talks the next morning with Foxworth and possibly the Vaadians later on, if they returned the messages that the Offices had sent out.

Foxworth mulled for a moment, too tactful to respond to the ruffling of feathers comment, then smiled. He certainly seemed to be doing a lot of that tonight.

"No, all the scions are all alive and well, though Catherine has colic, poor dear," he shook his head ruefully, suggesting that he'd been asked at least once to walk the young princess to sleep.

"I'm afraid this was believed a business trip sera; my wife has been invited to spend Christmas at Queensgrange. The rest... well, who keeps track of them? I have enough difficulty keeping track of the Stateholders, but there are over thirty of them... though my grandchildren have better table manners." his face was serious, but a twinkle in his eyes indicated he was holding back a laugh.

Though he was enjoying himself immensely, something he hadn't anticipated, he did note the passage of the clock. He could function quite well on an hours' sleep and as much coffee as Sakir could scrounge up (where was young Vadin, anyway? Oh, there he was, prowling around and scaring merry hell out of unwary diplomats), but he had his doubts that ab Ieauf would be as... astute as she needed to be.
Anyway, his legs weren't getting any younger, despite the assurances of the nice Saldari doctors.

Sakir smiled and nodded.
"No doubt, ser. The business of government is ever ongoing," and this is why we have Deputy and Junior Ministers, he added in the privacy of his own skull.
"If I may be indulged for just a moment," he beckoned behind him, "and arrange to continue this conversation at a better time?"
A protocol officer stepped forward with a pen and pad of paper."

The walrus merely inclined his head and then replied,

"Let us say, within the hour? I am usually not summoned directly by the King, so I must respond. However, I believe that once informed I can come back to this party. If you would excuse me?"

With that, the walrus turned and then exited the ballroom with Inuit and his retinue of King's Own in tow. He made his way directly to the quarters of where the keys were and sought out the Vrakian section. After a brief rap on the door, he was led to the communications room. There, with ultra secure communications to Vrak Prime he then was made aware of the situation. After some fevered conversation, a solution was devised, although it would rely upon the malleability of a third party. Jur hoped that the strategy would work. He didn't really want to know what was occuring in the Squall Straits since it might ruin his appetite, but he was given the latest update.

"Within the hour then ser, I look forward to it," Sakir said with a smile and a raise of his hat. His eyes tracked the walrus' retreating form for only a few seconds, before he was pulled aside by one of his attendants.

While Jur was being brought up to speed on the situation, so was Sakir. And another attendant waited to bring the same information to Foxworth's ears.

Sakri sighed. He just hoped that everything would be resolved before the Takuli, tense enough as it was, threw a tantrum on the floor of the States-General. The very thought made him take a beeline for the bar, in sore need of a drink.

"Over thirty?" ab Ieuaf blinked in suprise, "That's a healthy number to keep the line going. One isn't."

She shook her head, supressing a slight smile, "I'd be being horribly politically incorrect if I implied the good Tzarina should probably try to find a suitable husband, just in case something happens to her. Last thing Dyelli Beybi needs is reason for ANOTHER civil war and head of state or not, a murky succession is as good a cause as any to get the hot heads going."

She nooded along to Foxworth talking of his family, "I'll try not to hold you here too long." she responded earnestly.

"I look forward to our meeting tomorrow." her smile broadened, "But for now, I must beg your leave to retire. By the way, don't feel obliged in any way to dress formally tomorrow."

She offered a slight cutsey, in Dyelli Beybi she would have kissed Foxworth on both cheeks, but wasn't certain exactly what was done in his country, and figured the slightly submissive gesture couldn't hurt, "Au revoir, Lord President, it has been an honour and a genuine pleasure."

Foxworth stared for a moment, then smiled, slightly.
"No sera, you mistake me," he explained, gently. "A Stateholder isn't a royal scion except in very rare circumstances. His Serene Majesty has seven children, with an eighth on the way and it is rumoured a ninth in planning - those are the scions. There are over thirty nations in the Covenant, and each appoints a Stateholder to represent their interests in the High Council; those are my responsibility," he paused a moment, and smiled again.

"If I were you," he said, "I would keep your Tzarina away from our Cenariph; Her Serene Majesty, in long-standing tradition, is something of a matchmaker. Unless you want Her Majesty wed to one of our young gentry. We have quite a few."

Foxworth nodded in response to her comment about keeping him around, and smiled and bowed his head at her note about dressing formally.

In response to her curtsey, Foxworth bowed from the waist, and straightening, held up his right hand, palm outwards.
"The pleasure and honour are mutual. Fair health and peaceful rest to you and your kin, madam President," he said.

Turning away, he gathered his retune and made for the exit, collecting Sakir as he did so. His feet were starting to complain, blasted things.

"Might not be such a bad idea." the young President managed a wolfish smile, "I can think of many worse States for her to marry into, and none better... although I suspect they'd get a lot more than they bargained with, with her."

Dzerzhinsky had unsuccessfully tried to marry the Tzarina off, or at least attract suitors, presumably to keep her occupied while he tried to cement his hold on the country. He had tried the same stunt with ab Ieuaf and similarly failed. Caroline seemed to be joking in her attempts though.

She gave her hand to Foxworth again, "You are, Lord President, a breath of fresh air in the fetid swamp of Diplomacy today. Sleep well, I hope our facilities are to your liking."

She left much at the same time he did. Things seemed to be rounding up. Klatch had failed to generate interest in Statehood, but in the eyes of the President at least, things seemed to be working out quite well in other departments.

OOC: I've put up a new thread here btw

http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?p=12149738#post12149738

This time the older man shook her hand firmly, chuckling about the matchmaking comments.
"Probably. But that could be true for the both. Thank you for the compliment sera. Sleep well."

Well, how did it go?
Quite well I think. She's a sensible lass.
About bloody time one of them was.
Let's get to the room, my feet are giving me gyp.

In much that vein, they departed.