NationStates Jolt Archive

Conrad put his thumb and forefinger up to the bridge of his nose and began to rub it in annoyance as he read a telegram of protest that had arrived from Doomingsland. Underneath it were several very similar telegrams from Questers and Praetonia. The marriage that was supposedly going to happen between his niece and King Sverre IV of Hryvinia had created quite a stir, mainly because none of the monarchs from those nations had been informed of the arrangement and were unhappy with having their families joined unceremoniously and unknowingly with another, especially one from a relatively unknown nation with little military or economic power.

"Bloody hell, the Taradox's will never cease to cause me trouble," Conrad handed a written note to an aide to be sent out immediately, informing his relatives to come to Aiur and meet the fellow, and perhaps have a little family time,"Perhaps they'll like him?"

"Aye, Majesty, I'm sure they will if Kristen Taradox does," a senator from the north, who had been in the middle of a meeting with the Emperor on the mood of the people in his home city, chipped in.

"She's a Taradox. What the hell do you expect of her tastes in men?"

The senator attempted to sound as if he kept his own opinion on the subject, but sounded like a brown noser more and more,"Indeed.."

"Get out you shit. I need a drink," Conrad opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a shot-glass and some Jaredcohenian vodka. The senator stood up, bowed, and left the room at the wave from the Emperor, who was hardly paying any attention at this point.

"Aide, add to the telegrams that we'll be having fun at this meeting. Tell them we'll relieve some stress. Gods know I need it."

"Yes, majesty," and with that, the aide left the room.

Message from the Emperor
TO: My relatives in Doomingsland, Questers, Praetonia, Jaredcohenia, Clandonia, and Willink as well as King Sverre IV of Hryvinia
FROM: His Majesty By the Grace of the Gods Emperor Conrad II
RE: Situation with royal marriage

Right, I've received all of your messages, and I get the point. You all should have been informed of the arrangements that were going to take place. I apologise for the situation. I suggest we all get together here at my palace and get to know the kid. See if he is worthy of entering our glorious royal line. We'll have some fun while we're at it. Use the time to relieve some stress. You will be escorted to my land upon arrival at Aiur International Airport.

http://www.maj.com/gallery/Humhum/lolz/kaiser_konrad_ii_profile.png
SIGNED,
By the Grace of the Gods His Imperial Majesty Emperor Conrad II
Emperor of Zukariaa
Emperor of Shansekia
Emperor of Arterusia
King of Aiur
Duke of Taradoxica
Baron of Kahserbirg
Head of the House of Hüron
Head Monk of the Zukariaan Temple
42nd Sovereign Ruler of Zukariaa
Licensed Barbour

The offer was, of course, accepted, and Alexander II and his wife, Lady Alissa, would make their way there as soon as possible. Within a day they had packed and taken their private jet to Zukariaa, escorted every mile of the way by land borne fighters, tanker fuelled fighters, and carrier aviation. Landing finally at Aiur, they were picked up by Zukariaan authorities and taken to their destination...

30km from Aiur International Airport

"This is Hotel-Niner-Three-Seven-Three-Foxtrot-Tango-Whiskey, requesting permission to land." The pilot, Lars Anderssen, circled anxiously, awaiting the all-clear. After a few minutes, the reply came back. "Roger H9373FTW, take your place in the stack and await clearance." Groaning, Lars snapped the Bombardier Global Express business jet into a banking turn and began circling the city of Aiur, awaiting the words "permission to land granted." Judging by the number of planes in the air (it was apparently a busy day in Aiur) it was going to be awhile.

Meanwhile in the cabin of the aircraft, King Sverre IV was idly sipping a glass of wine while looking out at the cityscape below. The sidewalks were crowded, full of people heading to work. Even from the distance, a massive tower could be seen cutting through the skyline.

"That tower, Your Majesty, is the Senatorial Tower so I'm told. Largest of it's kind in the world if I remember correctly," the copilot said, assuming the role of a tour guide. "Over to Your Majesty's left, you can see the Sukarus Magnus, largest temple in Zukariaa. Finally, that large park in the city center is the Imperial Palace," he concluded, easing the aircraft into a banking turn.

A short time later, the plane landed at Aiur International. Upon taxiing to the gate, Sverre and a modest party of plainclothes bodyguards exited and began walking throughout the terminal nonchalantly. "Well, it appears I've arrived early," Sverre said to nobody in particular. "What do you say we take a walk around the terminal gentlemen? Get to know Zukariaa, or at least the airport."

Maximus was boarding his spaceplane with Empress Elizabeth several hours before he was supposed to have been arriving in Zukariaa. It had been some time since he'd visited Aiur, which was strange considering that Conrad II, despite being a pagan, was among the most popular allies of Caesar among the Doomani people. Maximus certainly wasn't pleased with this recent turn of events- he'd never even heard of this pissant kingdom that was marrying into Conrad's family, which in turn meant that this nobody would be related to some of the most powerful men on the planet. Still, Caesar kept an open mind, though he made sure not to display it. If he should find the boy to be worthy enough, and that was a very big if, Maximus would have little problem with the marriage. After all, another Christian in this end of the family meant there was more potential to convert the Zukariaan heathen branch, which was perhaps a more important objective.

Maximus was, however, looking forward to this meeting. He pretty much knew what would happen: he and Ferrin would get smashed before the thing even started and then he'd go off and grill the boy in a particularly intimidating manner alongside Alexander. That generally summed up all of the reunions within this family.

Ferrin and Maximus were supposed to get drunk together before the 'party', but Ferrin (a severe alcoholic) could not wait. While piloting his personal, 24 karat gold plated B-22 bomber, he took swig after swig of alcohol. In his drunken stupor, Ferrin also forgot to turn on the auto pilot. A man without a pilot's license and a blood alcohol level several times above the legal limit was flying one of the largest strategic bombers ever made. Himself and Maximus were very distant cousins, but very close. They shared the similar tastes in alcohol and similar tastes in women, but the religious difference between them was a severe contrast. Michael, Ferrin's son, joined his father in the cockpit. "We hittin' some turbulence, dad?" Ferrin snored audibly. "...Dad?"

"...yesh oficier i'm" He hiccuped, "sober enuff to dirve." He took a swig of vodka, "likwid gol', m'boy?"

"Dad, how smashed are you?" Michael asked, he stared at a pile of empty vodka, whiskey, gin, and beer bottles. He sighed, seemingly not caring his life was risk. Thank God we left from Rosbaningrad... "Dad, let me fly it."

"pfffffftt!!" Ferrin drunkenly made a noise. "i wil have popsinki punt you off da plane!!!!" He stood up, his legs buckling and falling. On the floor of the B-22's cockpit, Ferrin passed out. Michael sighed, sitting down at the pilot's seat and flying the remaining five miles to Aiur. After the plane landed, Michael placed his father in a wheel chair and put a blanket over him. In order to disguise his shut eyes, he placed a pair of sunglasses over his father's face. He again sighed, his sister and step-mother (knowing of their father/husband's antics) had flown a different plane to Zukariaa. Michael looked at his snoozing father, fixing his crooked tie and wiping some alcohol from his chin. "This is going to be a long day," he muttered wheeling his father off the plane.

OOC: Let's see if we can get this started back up

IC:

After a short time strolling around the airport waiting for his limo to be unloaded (the airport was quite busy at this hour), King Sverre IV got word via the concierge desk that his limo had been unloaded and was awaiting His Majesty's entourage at the front parking lot. Sverre, quite relieved to be on his way, wasted no time in getting to his vehicle.

After a short walk, he arrived at his armor-plated limousine, which was surrounded by various vehicles and motorcycles of the Aiur Police Department. "Seems like a nice little motorcade, though I doubt we shall be needing it," Sverre remarked as he stepped into the car. Almost immediately, the vehicle sped away, pulling onto the highway. After a few minutes, one of Sverre's guards remarked "Your Majesty, you should probably change into your formal wear for the party." "Right, I'll be out in a minute," Sverre replied, activating the vanity screen while he changed. About five minutes later, King Sverre IV emerged, dressed in the formal uniform of the Royal Hryvinian Army, with all his medals and orders attached. "So, how do I look?," Sverre queried. "Positively regal, Your Majesty," came the reply.

About ten minutes later, the limousine arrived at the front gate to the Palace of Aiur, manned by a squad of Zukariaan soldiers. As the limo came to a stop, one of the men, presumably the leader, began walking towards the vehicle.

OOC-No one seems to be replying, so I'll just move this right along.

Conrad and his family were awaiting their family members inside the Palace. First Alexander and his wife arrived Conrad joyfully grasped his father-in-law's hand saying,"Alexander, it has been far too long!"

Almost immediately this greeting was interrupted by the arrival of Maximus. Conrad greeted him as well, and the three monarchs had a short discussion about an odd occurance of a prominent disease in the nation of Aurum Domus in which the victim suffered of perpetual childhood.

Soon after, the drunken Ferrin was wheeled into the palace, still out cold. Conrad greeted his cousins briefly. As the group of aristocrats sat around and spoke with one another in one of many recreation rooms, word was given to Conrad that the Hryvinian monarch, Sverre IV, had arrived.

Kristen Taradox, who was speaking with Kristin Stuyvesant at the time of hearing of it, suddenly ran from the room.

"Oh, what in the world is that girl doing?" Conrad uttered his annoyance, but he was used to the strangeties that the Taradox family was known for. Sverre was escorted into the recreation room by several servants and was about to be greeted when Kristen Taradox burst into the room, knocking the large, solid wooden doors into the wall and shattering several vases.

"Hello, Sverrey!" she screamed. She was holding a chainsaw,"You said it would take a chainsaw to chop off your cock! I'm here to test that!"

"Why hello Kristen, or do you prefer Lady Taradox?," Sverre inquired, seemingly unfazed by the rather insane woman wielding a chainsaw. In reality he was a bit concerned that his wife-to-be was threatening his manhood, but he knew it would serve no purpose to show any fear.

"It's so nice to finally meet you all." Sverre briefly said hello to each of his fellow monarchs before sitting down in a vacant armchair. "I must say Conrad, your palace is quite well-appointed," he said, beckoning a servant over for a drink. Taking a brandy from the servant's tray, he again brought up conversation with his fellow monarchs. "Well, I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Sverre IV, King of Hryvinia By the Grace of God, or Gods if you prefer. I am here, as you know, because I've taken an interest in the Lady Taradox. Anything you wish to know about myself, feel free to ask."

Suddenly, he noticed Emperor Ferrin of Cohenia, out cold. "If you don't mind my asking, what seems to be the problem with the Cohenian emperor?"

"What an absolute pleasure to meet you." Alissa said. She was an extremely family oriented woman, and had taken a like to Sverre, which would prove important for him, because Alexander never dared disobey his wife. "You look awfully young to inherit such a role." She said. "It must be very daunting for you. How old are you exactly?" She queried, taking a cup of tea from the same servant who had served Sverre.

Alexander sat back in his chair and, folding one leg across the other, leaned back and listened intently. He had his own questions to ask, but they could wait. One does not simply marc- er, interrupt Alissa Beaufort of the Questarian Empire.

"Why thank you Your Highness," Sverre replied, taking a sip of his drink. "I am twenty-five years of age, the youngest Hryvinian monarch in over 200 years," he continued, suddenly becoming aware of his own age compared to his contemporaries. Out of all his fellow monarchs, not one was too young to be his father. "I must admit the task is rather daunting, but it is my duty to my people to fulfill my duties as monarch. The most challenging task I've faced so far is bringing my nation, the military in particular, onto the international stage. We Hryvinians have been in isolation from the world for over five hundred years, and naturally breaking that sort of cycle takes time."