NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: For now consider this closed, it's just a meeting.

IC:

She sat back in her seat, staring out the window at the clouds below. The hum of the engines was all that reminded her that she was on a plane flying to another nation. The open blue ocean visible below the clouds to her looked like a vast desert, like the ones she grew up around.

"Ninridingir, we're beginning preparations for descent and langing." The voice of her aid dragged her back into reality as she looked forward to the cockpit, seeing indeed things were being prepared. The honorific still made her a little uncomfortable, only a few years ago had she been chosen to lead and she still couldn't get used to it.

"Bring me a glass of water before we descend, I'm feeling a little thirsty right now." She said as her aid began to return to the cockpit and forward galley area of the aircraft. It would take only a few minutes for her water to arrive but she was feeling a little cramped after sitting so long so she went to retrieve the water herself.

It wasn't too long after she had refreshed herself and sat back down, adjusting her uniform and scarf so as to not look like the mess it usually did. Being Dictator certianly didn't lessen the ammount of physical activity and long hours she had to do, and this was generally reflected in her uniform. Although for this ocasion she had made the intention of bring diplomatic and freindly, and had thus worn the dress skirt instead of her normal trousers.

She relaxed, looking back out the window as the clouds began to get closer, slowly the aircraft descending towards their final destination. The communications officer forward was undoubtable working hard to establish contact with the air authorities of the Kingdom of Ecolle, their final destination. She looked around, leaning down to see up into the sky, not seeing a thing. Her escort, the six heavy fighters which typically escorted her private plane were probably up quite high by now. They normally did that when there was no immediate threat, they would go high and watch allowing a more peaceful approach of the aircraft, but able to strike if trouble occured. Trouble was not expected however.

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Message to Ecolle's National Aviation Organization

This is the flight of Kisikil Ninatuma, Dictator of the Dictorial Republic of Sumer, requesting permission to approach and land. Please respond.

Official Communiqué from the Armée de l'Air de Ecolle

Permission granted. Please prepare to land at the Ècole Airstation in Semur, the capital.

--

Mary was awaiting the visit of Sumerian Dictator. It was going to be an interesting visit, for the Dictator was not a man, but rather, a woman. It was exciting for the young queen, whose female meeting had been hereto limited to fellow aristocratic friends. A female ruling was absurd—of course, she had friends who had ascended their father’s estates, but that meant little; Mary was the first regnant queen of Ecolle, and thus she was happy to be extending relations with fellow nations where the women were liberated.

“Are you prepared, your majesty?” The Earl of Arran asked, the very man who was often behind the queen, helping her along. Although he was her grandfather, and thus held a sort of paternal sway over her, he did not attempt to control her, at least directly. The fact that the Sumerian Dictator was coming had little to do with Arran—indeed, Mary had ordered the meeting independently. She was growing up.

“Yes, yes, I am.” Mary replied, eyes ablaze. “I hope I can learn something from her.”

“What is there to learn?” Arran asked, scoffing. “She’s merely a Dictator. You have royal poise and grip—if anything, you will teach her something.”

Mary sighed. “Papa, if only you could see beyond your haze. Rank means nothing, for the dumbest idiot can be King. In democratic countries, one must be wit to rule. She must be witty.”

“Or simply lucky,” the Earl mumbled.

The slow landing process was one that always annoyed her. The descent, the jolt as the wheels touched the ground, even the seemingly long time it took for everything to be set once the aircraft had actually stopped so she could get off. Shortly after the plane came to a halt she got from her seat, gently slipping her sunglasses on, being careful to slide the stems under the scarf covering her head so they would rest comfortable on her ears. She brushed herself off, assuring she had nothing such as crumbs or wrinkles staining her appearance. In some respects she could be very much like her mother, almost a slob. But she tried not to be.

It only took a few minutes for her to ready herself and walk to the plane's door, stepping out into the sunlight and taking a look around the foreign land. She spotted rather quickly the young woman awaiting her, who must be the young Queen Mary. With a slight smile on her face she exited the aircraft, walking slowly towards the young woman, nodding her head slightly in greeting before offering her hand to shake.

"I am Field Marshal Kisikil, Daughter of Puabi, Child of Ninatuma of Royal Heritage, Born of Uruk, Dictator of Sumer. I presume you are Queen Mary of this beautiful land, and I am pleased to meet you in person."

“Your Grace…” Mary began, unsure how to style the female dictator. “It is truly an honor that you can remove time from your busy schedule to visit the Kingdom of Ecolle. I am Queen Mary, and this is my grandfather, the Earl of Arran.”

The old lord bowed low to the female dictator, before taking her hand and kissing it gently.

“It is truly an honor to meet you, your grace.”

Aside from the Queen and the Earl, the hundreds of lords and ladies of the Kingdom had turned out to meet the strange Sumerian, bedecked in their plums, fans waving. An air hung about them, an air of feudal station, quickly pointing out that Ecolle was not a normal nation.

It was not liberty that governed: it was tyranny. The lords still held feudal rights over the farmers and those that squatted upon their land. In an age where land reform had came and gone, Ecolle’s nobility remained one of the few who still maintained their massive acreage, the very item which entitled them to sit in the Parliament.

“Your Grace,” The Earl of Arran began once more. “How long do you intend to stay with us? We have already cleared out space in the royal castle of Alba for you and whatever persons you have brought.”

"Unfortunately I can not stay too long, although this is a lovely countryside and I would otherwise like to. Work keeps me busy and I can only spend a week here." Kisikil replied, after smiling at the man who kissed her hand. It was very obvious to her that this nation was still deep in the confines of the feudel system, and she could almost feel that aspect of the culture in the atmosphere. "Please, call me by my name, Kisikil, or my rank of Field Marshal if you wish. There is no need for major formalities." She smiled back, hoping her request would not be seen as offensive to those she was visiting.

She looked around, taking in the sights once again before waving her hand back to her aid in the aircraft and then turning back to the young Queen. "I have only my two aids and six personal guards who travel with me normally, I hope that will not be a burden on you as gracious hosts."

Umm.. bump to bring back to the attention of Ecolle.