NationStates Jolt Archive

Field Marshal Erik Hohenzorn stood impatiently at the airport in Vienna, waiting for the arrival of Emperor James I of Howesia. Generalissimo Grimmeberger was waiting at the Presidential Palace, but it was not the Head of State's duty to meet a visiting dignitary at the airport. That was for lackeys. The meeting between the two leaders would take place once the Emperor had actually entered the city. He glanced around surruptitiously. Mostly at the blocks of soldiers.

Geez. I know we're trying to impress the Emperor, but is the entire 44th Division really necessary for that? The assembled blocks of Federal Panzergrenadiers stood at attention, anxious for His Majesty's arrival. In all fairness, it would likely achieve the desired effect. An attentive, battle-ready Federal Armored Division was pretty damn impressive. All the more when it was the first Federal unit ever subjected to a nuclear strike, and had made it out.

From that memory, Hohenzorn and the 44th had been highly decorated, after they played a major role in ending the North-South Defesian conflict. But anyway...

On the night before he was expected to leave Howesia for the city of Vienna, Emperor James the First spent his time with his consort while overlooking possible suits that he would find appealing to wear - thinking that a military uniform could suit him well during the conference. All monarchs, even the self made ones, must look the part of a monarch. At least that is what James Reagan told himself and his wife, the Empress Stephanie, as they looked over possible suits, uniforms and the like in the Imperial wardrobe which was, well, where you could find some of the best clothes around. "Make sure you don't be some pompous ass, dear....remember your origins." Stephanie said with a sly grin, tantalizing her husband with her hopes. It must be said that Stephanie Reagan not only never expected to be an Empress but that she felt that, if she was going to be one, then one had to do it properly - being some pompous asshole just wasn't going to cut it these days.

"I will be who I am." James said with a smile as he adjusted the collar of his military uniform, decked out with the usual medals and insignias typically found in this Anglophone nation. For the bearers of the Union Jack had settled Howesia, they were considered to be the founders, the protectors, the creators. Everyone in Howesia was English. This was accepted as the sort of thing you'd say Well, duh! afterwards. Stephanie embraced her husband and smiled, resting her head on his broad shoulder while gazing at herself in the mirror. So what if she was Empress or not? She had James Reagan and that was very good, because not too many women around got men like him. Okay, perhaps she didn't have such a superiority complex, but she loved him, and that's what mattered the most for her and for them.

As James the First proceeded on the following day - having some 'alone time' with his wife to finish off the previous night - to get aboard a private jet, he designated people to manage the affairs of Howesia, kissed his wife one last time, and told his children to behave. If anything could be gathered from James Reagan, it was that he loved his wife and children. He acknowledged that being with them was a pleasure not everyone had. Then again, some people just didn't want it, or wanted half of it. As James got onto the jet, he noticed Stanley was already onboard, as if waiting for his liege to come aboard. "You've been waiting, haven't you?" James said, smiling.

"Meh. I just got here a couple of minutes ago, Your Majesty...." Stanley said, nodding his head before looking through the daily bulletin he had obtained to occupy himself with, as if he assumed the flight to Vienna would be boring. Then again, that flight attendant - was she one? - was staring at him so perhaps it wouldn't be boring. Oh, Stanley never had time for women. Well, he did, but he just never seemed to care much for women. Well, perhaps he did. Who knows, you'd think, since he never seemed to discuss his love life, if he had one, at all. Perhaps he'll find himself a nice Fanboyist woman. Who knows, yet again.

The jet soon proceeded to flow smoothly off the runway while everyone withdrew into their usually scheduled routines. As the flight went on, the Emperor looked over some notes that he had brought onboard from his offices. I might as well get some work done, he thought, so I do not have to do it later. Stanley was still reading the daily news, reading some of the citizens' opinions that the media would periodically publish. The Emperor said that free speech was a fundamental right of all citizens, even if it was to be used spending hour after hour condemning him for whatever things you could think of. Sometimes they would call him a wannabe monarch, a tyrant bent on making himself the center of the nation's attention, as if he was meant to be something more than your local Member of Parliament. As the plane continued onward, the Emperor felt his eyes grace the contents of his pockets, which was a picture of his wife in a fashionable outfit, her beauty - illustrious beauty! - brought out more in this new look. He smiled, staring into this beloved woman's eyes, remembering the dates that they went out on, when he was only James Reagan, that handsome, stubborn and rugged man who the women called one of the "best picks", the "big fishes".

When the plane finally landed at an airport in Vienna, James and Stanley calmly walked out onto Fanboyist soil with the security guards trailing close behind them, as they both expected would happen. James began scanning his surroundings for a trace of Fanboyist offical while Stanley just nodded his head. "They'll be here soon. I can sense it, Your Majesty. Soon enough, we'll be able to experience the sights and sounds of this nation...." (an unintelligble comment on "possibly being ridiculed and laughed at behind our backs" followed this. After all, who was to say that James the First was nothing more than a joke in other nations? To the monarchs who had been born monarchs, who knew how to be a monarch....)

OOC Note: Inspite of recent events regarding the leadership of my nation, this thread will take place during the period where Grimmeberger is still in power.

IC:
Still, Hohenzorn waited. And waited. After about fifteen minutes after they heard the Howesian jet was coming in to land, Erik turned to his aide-de-camp, and asked a question.
"Are you sure you gave them the right runway...?"
"Yes, runway 19 is what I told them..." his next word ("sir") was lost under the loud sound of Hohenzorn slapping his forehead.
"We're at runway nine you dolt!"
"Oh..."
"Get a company moving, and we need to get to runway 19, stat!"
"Yessir."
And soon enough, with enough hurry, Hohenzorn and Alpha company arrived at runway 19 to welcome the Emperor.

Hohenzorn smoothed down his rumpled field uniform, extending his hand to shake. "I'm deeply sorry, sir. My aide gave your pilot the wrong runway to land on. We have been waiting at the incorrect runway this whole time. Again, I'm deeply sorry. I am Field Marshal Erik Hohenzorn, and these," he gestured to the panzergrenadiers, "are the finest men of the 44th Armoured Division, here to escort you and yours to Generalissimo Grimmeberger. I hope you will understand that he has been very busy, and could not come out to meet you personnally right away. He will be at the conference, which will start approximately an hour after your arrival in the city itself. Do you understand?" Hohenzorn added the last question, as sometimes people had problems understanding his English through his (noticable, but not horribly thick) Danish accent.

"It seems that the Fanboyists either do not know how to make a proper welcome or have mistakenly sent everyone to another place - thinking we would be there instead." Stanley calmly observed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his suit while looking over to his companion, watching him pacing around, in wonder as to where the Fanboyists were.

While the two men waited, they could see the Fanboyists in the distance - noting that they must have probably realized their mistake. "Good. They're here." The Emperor of Howesia uttered to his aide-de-camp, telling him to prepare himself for them. Both of them shook Hohenzorn's hand, accepted his apology and smiled. "Sometimes even those who have done things like this so many times before can make mistakes." Stanley said, leading the Emperor towards what was assumbly an armored motorcade, saying how they both understood the situation about meeting Grimmeberger at the conference.

"We would not mind waiting for the honor to meet the Generalissimo. I am sure that our meeting will end up being beneficial for both our nations." The Emperor said. "Howesia desires to make friendships with other nations. Your nation will be one of our many friends, Fortune willing."

"Indeed, I hope our nations will work together closely in friendship in the future." Hohenzorn replied simply. "He is rather busy. He decided to finally put some thought into succession. Not that it took him 25 years to decide to do it or anything."
They walked for a little bit in silence, until Erik spoke again.

"What did you have in mind for discussion with the General? If it is for his ears only, and you'd rather not tell me, that is perfectly acceptable. I would imagine, correct me if I'm wrong, trade and potentially an alliance are under consideration?"