NationStates Jolt Archive

http://i194.photobucket.com/albums/z259/pertinax201/Londinian%20Flags/finalblflag-1.png

Official Londinian Communiqué

Mr Gannon, the Federal Havenic Republic of Central Prestonia:

It has come to my attention that you have petitioned the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for permission to conduct a state visit within Kensington, and, after thorough review, I am delighted to personally invite you to the Londinian Commonwealth on 18 Messidor 2014 so that we may tour the city together, and, hopefully, forge stronger relations between our grand nationstates. Please reply forthwith so appropriate arrangements can be made.

Sincerely,
http://i194.photobucket.com/albums/z259/pertinax201/fdavidson.jpg
The Rt. Hon. Flavia Davidson, OLC, MP, PhD
Consul of the Londinian Commonwealth

To: The Rt. Hon. Consul Flavia Zoe Davidson, MP, PhD
From: President Justin M. Gannon.

Thank you for approving my state visit. I haven't been to British Londinium in over ten years. My last visit was admittedly under less-then-perfect circumstances, as Mr. Swanner ran the country and I was sent by Mr. Preston to ask for support in the Revolution that was raging at the time. I am sure however that this visit will be much more pleasant. I shall be arriving around 1000 Hours local time, in order to make the most of the day. As I have full confidence in your security, I shall leave the Praetorian Guard behind. I will however be carrying an E21 pistol if this is ok, as eight years of revolution have made me feel rather naked without a firearm. I look forward to this tour of your fabulous city.

With Warmest Regards,
Justin M. Gannon
President, Federal Havenic Republic of Prestonia
Vice-Chairman, Prestonian Democratic Party
Order of the Republic, First Class

P.S. My Foreign Affairs Secretary, Steve Preston, sends his regards. He states that he remembers you from the boarding school in ViZion you attended together.

http://i194.photobucket.com/albums/z259/pertinax201/Londinian%20Flags/finalblflag-1.png

Ministry of Foreign Affairs

Official Londinian Communiqué

President Gannon:

Circumstances during the Swanner regime were regretable, it is unfortunate that you have not been witness to the extraordinary changes in effect. Arrangements are now in place, and we eagerly await your arrival.

Air Force One
100km Offshore Kensington

President Gannon smoothed out the wrinkles in his black Armani double-breasted suit as he sat in his recliner. Pacing anxiously, he re-arranged the E21 in his inner suit pocket, trying to hide it's presence as much as possible. After one last look in the mirror to check his overall appearance, he walked up to the cockpit to check the status of the flight. "We're one hundred kilometers from Kensington sir. Beginning descent now," the Captain said. "Kensington tower, this is Prestonian Air Force One. The President is aboard, please direct us to the airport or military installation of your choosing, over." In the distance, Kensington's skyline gleamed in the sunlight. "I think this trip shall be much better than the last one," Gannon said as he retreated into the cabin, awaiting the landing.

RAF Weston Zoyland
Near Mt Nyx

Nestled within the foothills of the imposing, snow-capped peak, Her Majesty's Royal Air Force Base Weston Zoyland was a perfect site to receive foreign dignitaries. After all, due to its military nature and reclusive location, RAF Weston Zoyland afforded incoming heads of state a certain amount of privacy incapable of being extended at the bustling Kensington International Airport. And, of course, RAF Weston Zoyland was propaedeutic to the state visits the Londinian government conducted with these diplomats. Designed to forge a formidable image within the minds of these visitors, the majority of the base's facilities were built out of translucent concrete, with striking repetitive angular geometries defining the structures, leading many architects to call Weston Zoyland the pinnacle of "New Barbarism".

Regardless, RAF Weston Zoyland was where air traffic controllers had guided the Prestonian Air Force One, and it was where Consul Flavia Davidson stood in front of regiment of dress uniform-clad Consular Guards as the winter snows fell softly upon the tarmac.

RAF Weston Zoyland
Near Mt. Nix

President Gannon stepped out of the plane and into the bitter cold, wrapping his suit coat around himself as best he could. On either side of the ramp stood two black-uniformed Praetorian Guardsmen, at perfect attention. As Gannon passed them he threw off a casual salute, not even breaking stride. Like human machines, the Guardsmen went to parade rest. "Aliao Consulere, quomo aca tu?," Gannon said to the Londinian Consul in his best Volscian, trying not to shiver. You'll have to excuse me Ms. Davidson, I'm afraid I'm not used to such climates. My nation's a bit more tropical than this, with the exception of the Washington Mountains. I must say, Mt. Nix looks quite beautiful. I've recently taken up mountain climbing, and she looks like one I'll have to visit sometime. Is she open for climbing by any chance?"

"Salus, Exsequé Gannon," the consul replied, shallowly curtseying towards the Prestonian leader. "It is a great honour to be with a man of your reputation. Prestonia is well respected within the Commonwealth; despite our...disagreements, tenacity is valued trait by our people." She reached into the jacket of her tweed pantsuit, withdrawing a Lilliputian red capsule, and handed it to the Prestonian. "Here," she said, "take this. Baryta, I believe its called. It stimulates lypolysis; it ought to acclimate you to the climate quicker."

Both Davidson and Gannon were ushered into a waiting armoured Land Rover, with a Commonwealth flag fluttering proudly next to a Prestonian one on the hood.

"Mountain climbing? I must say I have never partaken in that particular sport," Flavia said as the black vehicle accelerated. "My father believed that I ought to spend time learning more 'practical' sports, namely marksmanship. An odd juxtaposition, to say the least. But, yes, I believe certain sections of the peak are indeed available to the public."

"Well, I prefer some adventure. One gets bored of sitting around one's residence doing paperwork all day. That pill really does work well, I feel better already. As to the past tensions between our nations, I'm hoping we can put that behind us. Prestonian is starting to imitate British Londinium in many ways lately. Our newest city, Prestongrad, was modeled after Kensington, for example. The government is currently talking to some Londinian architectural firms about building a new Presidential Mansion. And, perhaps the best example, since Mr. Preston introduced Volscian to Prestonia the language has become the third most spoken in the nation, after English and Russian. But, I digress. Which beacon of Londinian civilization shall we visit first?"

Flavia smiled gently as she listed to President Gannon, brushing her auburn curls to the side. She was not flattered, as the president may think, but very, very pleased with a well laid plan. Soft power, an idea long advocated by Sir Alistair Davidson, referred to the ability to indirectly influence the behavior or interests of other political bodies through cultural or ideological means, and it clearly was a success when it came to Prestonia.

"I'm delighted that our two nations are finding common ground in culture," Davidson replied, carefully selecting her words. "And I too hope that a bitter past can perish and give way to a brighter future. I, for one, wished to start the tour at the Arch of Victory (http://i194.photobucket.com/albums/z259/pertinax201/Structures/VictoryArch.jpg), and, from there, circumnavigate the city before finally meeting at Parliament House for formal talks."

"Ah, excellent. I recently read an article about the Arch of Victory, and from what I've seen it must be quite an imposing sight. Of course, nothing compares to seeing it up close I would imagine. Is there any particular victory in commemorates?"

"It is not designed to commemorate a specific victory," Flavia replied. "But, after the Goob War of 1997, as Londinian forces finally evicted occupying Atopian forces, Kensington was laid in ruins, and the Arch of Victory was the first new structure to be built; for many, the Arch symbolizes the defeat of the Skgorrians and Atopians. It is also no small coincidence that the Arch is the headquarters of the War Ministry. But, and I must ask, how would Prestonia celebrate its victories?"

"Well, we haven't been in any wars since the Revolution, thankfully. The Great Revolution, as it's called, is commemorated by the Avenue of Heroes. On this Avenue lie walls with the names of the war dead, where people pay their respects to those who gave everything for their nation. At the end of the Avenue is a tower with a glass obelisk at the top, containing the Flame of Liberty. If ever the flame goes out it is said that the nation will fall. This is also, interestingly enough, the road upon which the current Presidential Mansion lies. The building is currently in the process of being converted to a Museum of The Revolution. There is also, in the outskirt city of Aston, a Tomb of Unknowns. Those are the only war monuments me have in the capitol. Of course, other cities have monuments to their own war dead but those in Hudson are the national ones."

"Interesting," Flavia replied. "A tranquil nation, I would presume. It is a pity that the Commonwealth is seemingly incapable of finding peace, either domestically or abroad. If I recall my history correctly, which, of course, I do, there have only been three years of Londinian history in which some sort of violent conflict was not occuring. From the city-state power struggles two thousand years ago, to the Prætonian invasions, and to the Politicide of Calaveras, peace is something that has yet to enter the Londinian lexicon. Perhaps it has to do with Volscian itself. From a linguistic standpoint, it is oddly centred around violence. Too many words, it seems, have to do with martial affairs; in my opinion, it seems to have fostered a sort of hostile attitude in the heart and mind of the Commonwealth."

"Your nation seems to have had it's share of violence, especially in the past five years. Prestonia on the other hand is a bit strange in how it regards war. While we are by nature a peaceful society that attempts to avoid violence, there are a few occasions when we will jump headfirst into the fire so to speak. Specifically, when a nation oppresses human rights and makes a show of it. As a member of UFAN we hold the fundamental rights of mankind to be sacrosanct."

"Fundamental rights..." the Londinian consul said musingly. "A most interesting concept. I'm afraid it is one that I am not versed well in, though, as a child, I do recall Consul Sinclair ranting and raving about them incoherently. In the Commonwealth, despite being a literal "commonwealth", rights are viewed as a privilege earned by merit. Since 1795, the Crown has issued the imperial examination, which is administered on every Londinian's sixteenth birthday. Satisfactory performance bestows citizenship, and thus rights. Of course, non-citizens - simply called nationals - have certain rights, but they are the bare minimum necessary to maintain basic human dignities. Of course, the lovely thing about this system is that anyone throughout the world, providing that they've lived in either British Londinium proper for five years or a Londinian overseas territory for seven, can apply for citizenship and have only minimal distinguishment from a standard citizen."

"This is indeed an interesting concept," Gannon said, intrigued. "In Prestonia citizenship for native-born Prestonians is automatic, provided that they were born in the Prestonian homeland. Territorial citizens are given the citizenship status of Prestonian National, which confers all rights except the right to vote in national matters and serve in Federal government. However, after five years, if a national has shown loyalty to the Republic, they may apply for full citizenship. Similar restrictions apply to immigrants, with exceptions made for refugees."

The Land Rover finally reached the Arch of Victory, slowly pulling to a halt next to the intricate fountains in front of the triumphal arch, a gleaming tesseract constructed out of marble from the Montaigne Mountains in the north and transphase aluminium, all over a prestressed concrete frame. At over one hundred and fifty meters tall, the Arch of Victory was quite the impressive sight.

"Here we are at last," Flavia said with a contented sigh, smiling as she gazed upon the building. "This, the Arch of Victory, is arguably the centre of the city, not only because of its location within the primary borough, but because it forms part of Victory Square Station, the backbone of the Kensington Metro. Regardless, it serves, concurrently, as the headquarters of the Ministry of War, whose less classified offices are housed within the arch proper, with the rest located deep underground."