NationStates Jolt Archive

Foreign Secretary Charles Talleyrand looked quite pleased as he paced up and down, waiting in a building near the main runway of the Government aeroport in Sita Pynholt. He was awaiting an ambassadorial mission from the Grand Duchy of Thrashia, a state which Talleyrand through they could do business with, and form much greater ties.

"Sire, they will be arriving any time now. In fact, I think that noise could be them Sire."

"Excellent. I hope everything is prepared for their arrival."

"Yes Sire...do we have to talk in Standard English Sire?"

"Yes, to prepare for their arrival. Not everyone understands Pineholtek."

The aide walked away, concentrating hard. Pynholtek was derived from a melange of Early Modern English, and Old Cornish, so Standard English, as it was known officially, wasn't the hardest language for them to learn, but some still found it hard.

As the noise grew louder, the Foreign Secretary looked to the skies...

The jet landed without any great difficulty, its pilot skilled enough and trusted enough to carry a leading member of the Duchy's government. Such a long trip was unusual but nothing that couldn't be handled. The lay over on the coast of the Americas had been pleasant and the important passenger hadn't complained about anything, which considering he was as Spartan in his living as most monks were, wasn't anything out of the norm.

The man who walked down the extended stairs of the jet was nothing less than morose and dignified. He walked with an authority lent from a privileged upbringing. Everything about the man was precise, the way he walked, the way he was dressed (a neat black military-esque suit with silver lined lapels), even the way he breathed. His aristocratic features looked around his new surroundings with a cold measure. Any women in the crowd would have swooned, for even in a ruffled state the man was a living, breathing avatar of male perfection.

Moving his blonde hair from his eyes Junior Foreign Minister of the Grand Duchy of Thrashia walked up to his Pineholtian hosts who stood waiting for him. He snapped his booted feet together and made a short bow to his host.

"I bring greetings to you Secretary Talleyrand. I'm Hans van Goethe (http://i19.photobucket.com/albums/b184/Upum/Modern%20Tech%20Thrashia/SS_Officer_by_anomolous-1.jpg) of the Grand Duchy of Thrashia's foreign ministry. Thank you for inviting me," Hans said formally in English.

"It is an honour to speak to you, Hans van Goethe from the Grand Duchy of Thashia. I hope your visit is the first of many for Thrashians coming to Pynholt."

Walking towards a parked convoy of cars, Sir Talleyrand wondered whether this young aristocrat would be an amicable negotiator. He gestured to van Goethe to enter a car with him, which would take them the short distance to the conference centre.

"In an age of increasing instability, our Government sees yours as one that we can trust, and build diplomatic relations with. I hope your Government feels a similar way."

Hans slipped smoothly into the car, Talleyrand on his heels. The minister was a quiet seeming man, unimposing in the way a politician with power usually was: visible but still shadowed. Hans decided he liked the older gentleman.

"But of course sir. His excellency, Duke Leto, has expressed great interest in creating diplomatic relations with Pynholt, as well as others. And, as you say, we live in a time of uncertainty. New friends are a welcomed and rare commodity," said Hans.