Unification before all (Closed, Attn: Finium, Zammora)

[The greater Vakolicci Haven]

Palascez goranduern,
Turin,
Celeria,
The Greater Vakolicci Haven

His Celari Majesty, King Blacksen I of Celeria swiped his arm back as he had been taught in

the days of his youth, back when grizzled old men had taught the young Prince, as he had

then been, how to throw a javelyn or grenade. He stood, held his right arm behind him,

placed his left foot forward and turned into the swing, bringing his arm forward with the

strength that only a professional athlete such as himself could muster. The alarm clock

arked through the air, a true and unwavering projectile before hitting the wall with a

satisfying cracking noise. Now satisfied, his morning anger finally satiated, he sat on the

side of his bed and prepared to go through his plans for the day.

Prepared, that was, until the palm of a hand caught him rather unexpectedly in the nape of

his neck, pushing the unfortunate monarch onto the floor with, to the owner of the hand, an

equally satisfying thud.
"How many times," his wife, queen Laura of Celeria told him, a look of iritation blemishing

the beautiful features he had fallen in love with so many years ago, "That the early

morning isn't an opurtunity to see how far you can throw the alarm clock. That's...5 you've

been through this week."
"It's Friday," Blacksen answered matter-of-factly, picking himself up from the floor. "That

figures, doesn't it. Are you aware that Friday is indeed the fifth day of the week?"
"It's a bit of a waste," Laura said blanching further as Blacksen crossed his legs on the

bed.
"Dear...our family is one of the worlds richest. It has been making a budget serplus for

the past 600 years. All that money hasn't gone anywhere, it's mounted up and mounted up,

meaning that I'd have to invent a canon which fires alarm clocks faster than any gun

currently produced in this world if I was ever to exhaust our wealth by throwing alarm
clocks across the room. I can vouch for the fact that tonight, someone will have braught a
fresh alarm clock to this bedroom, and it will be set to the correct time. I can vouch for
the fact that we'll both have a glass of vodka on each side of the bed, and that the fridge
you like to keep stocked with foods that do not befit your career as a football player will
be full. It is what you get when you have a nice title, a large amount of wealth, and a
populus that you don't actively atempt to brutalise."
Laura lay back on the bed; she knew that her atempts to get her husband to see that
throwing the alarm clock across the room every single morning was completely wasteful, not
to mention immature and deeply un-royal would lead to a lecture about how they were some of
the richest people in the world. She knew that the boy she'd fell in love with 5 years ago
had grown into a sarcastic, charming and confident king. She reached out her arm, and
Blacksen lay back on the bed where she wrapped it around him. Completely ignoring the now
shattered alarm clock, the 2 proceeded to lie in each others arms for the next half hour,
occasionally moving or talking, but mainly just looking at each other's faces. She still
loved him, despite all his faults, even if he did throw alarm clocks across the room.
At a quarter past 9, an altogether more unavoidable obstacle arrived to disturb the King's
rest as a sharp rapping came on the heavy old oak door.
"Is this the new alarm clock?" Blacksen pondered aloud. "It'll come you know."
The knocking came again.
"Just open it," Laura said, barely raising her voice.
The door opened without a hint of a creek to reveal the almost expressionless face of Atel
Loni, the families 'first hand,' the most senior pallace servant. He stood in his usual
position; body straight, head raised, hands occasionally straying from his sides to brush a
speck of lint from his crisp, black, emaculate suit.
"Your Majesties," he almost breathed. Blacksen sat up, before stopping himself from
punching the man: he was still knew. Atel Loni clearly had no knowledge of royal customs;
after all, royal customs had changed dramatically since the huge football captain had
ascended to the rank of King following his fathers death at a shooting arena in the Kytler
Peninsulae. The death of one man in a sporting accident had braught his son, a sportsman,
to power.
"My name," he said in the cool, clipped Celari accent that he was expected to use when
dealing with literally anyone, "Is Blacksen. I don't like my name, it sounds like my father
was merely atempting to ensure that he did not have the most ridiculous name of any Celari
monarch in history." As a matter of fact, King Althyus was atempting just that.
"Although my name is horrible and it should never be inflicted on another child, I believe,
however wrongly, that 'your majesty' sounds equally unnecisary. As Blacksen is shorter,
call me that in future."
Loni gulped, afraid he had insulted the King, before restarting his sentence.
"Blacksen," he said in the same smooth voice he had used before. "And...Laura. Our guests
will be arriving in 45 minutes."
"Guests? I didn't invite guests today...oh wait, I'm being inendated with foreigners again
at no notice aren't I?"
"The delegations from Zammora, and also from the nation that was once known as the Finian
empire. If I may say, it's something of a mystery how it stays together...all those little
factions and warlords-"
"That's enough," Blacksen groaned.
"When were these guys announced?" Laura asked, darting a look at the servant.
"Around 12 minutes ago."
"What the..."
"All the preparations have been put in order s-Blacksen," Loni interupted. "Delegations
both from Sondestadt in Velstrania, and from the Havenic confederal government are also on
their way."
"And they're all descending on Celeria for no good reason?" Blacksen asked.
"Apparently, Celeria would provide the best show to the foreign visitors. President O'clane
is hoping to absorb them into the Haven."

---

Turin royal multi-port,
Turin,
Celeria,
The Greater Vakolicci Haven

Runway 8 at Turin Royal Multi-port was never busy, unlike all the other runways on either
side no families rushed onto jumbo jets looking for adventure; equally no aircraft came,
loaded with hundreds of holiday makers who wanted to catch the sounds, sights, sea, sun and
sand of this particular corner of the Haven. Instead, every 2 weeks or so the odd plane
would land, carrying one government dignatary or another, strictly on official state
business: for this was the official Royal entry and exit port into Celeria.
The Vakolicci and Velsturmen delegations had arrived quicker than had been expected and
now, several minor dignitaries in an impressive range of clothing from the stark black of
the Celari black legion to the flowing green dress won by one particular Vakolicci
financial woman waited, enclosed on 2 sides by stern-looking guards, for the arrivals of
their far more higher-profile guests: the appointed representatives of both Zammora and
Finium. These men and women would make smalltalk, and treat the guests to some
refreshments, but crucially they would be granted with the permission to answer any of
their questions as regards to the Haven or to Celeria during their short ride in the 2
hulking green limozines that were parked smartly in front of the airport. Already, the
media was gathered around them hoping to get a shot of whoever was going to be entering
such luxurious-looking vehicles: as was the Celari way, the press were not to be hindered.
At the end of their journey would be yet more media photographers and broadcasters; however
crucially the leading corpus of Havenic leadership were waiting for their arrival inside
the cathedral-like interprovincial conference centre; its walls hung with stunning paitings
and other depictions of Celeria and the Celari people.
In the centre, President Ronan W. O'clane sat reading the extensive notes that his aids had
spent hours into the night preparing for him. He circled some points, before sitting back
in his over-stuffed leather seat and catching the eye of his vice-president, the leader of
the Havenic coalition for unification and Fascism, Jonathan Blazen. Blazen looked at the
president's notes, before nodding and handing them back to the man who he hoped in the next
few months to be replacing extremely soon.
Dianne Stevenson sat, as was her want throughout her political career, straight-backed and
almost entirely still. Her severe-looking, aged face was locked in a picture of displeasure
to the general world around her as she waited for somebody to aim that look at in
particular.
Alyana Della Barecci, one of the 2 other women in the room, couldn't have been more
opposite. The minister for trade was young, only around 20 years old. Her long, flowing
blonde hair was allowed to fall in waves down to her shoulders and she wore a simple form-
fitting black dress that did an excellent job at emphasising all that their was in the yong
woman's body to entice any man who looked upon her.
Lord-admiral Branislav Ivanovic sat to her left, stern and judging, his eyes roving around
the assembled Havenic delegates. His face, though it was old and lined, still displayed the
spark of charisma and intelligence that men had come to respect in the 82-year-old general
who had survived a spell in Kravenite solitary confinement and won countless battles for
the Haven.
He sat beside the only other representative from the military that was present, and she
looked nowhere in particular. Her features were made almost impossible to glance due to the
multi-faceted glass mask that covered her head, reflecting the light in front of her around
her head, making it extremely difficult for her opponents to focus on her head. She was
slim, though not to the point where people would start to think her health in danger, and
her arms sat crossed on the table. This was Vrone, the head of the Haven's most secretive
units in active service: the Vaktrieiga, the active terrorist units that funded and
assisted foreign terrorist and rebel groups in their own nations.
A little way apart from the Vakolicci sat the Celari and Velsturmen delegations, and at the
end of that group sat their host. His Celari Majesty, King Blacksen I, sat on a slightly
larger chair than the rest of the groups, his arms outstretched and the golden-crusted
headpiece he wore on royal occasions that did not call for the uncomfortable crown was
affixed on his head. His clothes were richly taylored and his eyes, usually calm and
placid, seemed to be sparkling as the light reflected off of the diamonds that covered his
forehead.
His Queen, Laura, sat by his side bedecked in jewels which did their best to hide the
bulging muscles which were clearly visible through her loose-fitting dress. The 2 were
talking in animated whispers between themselves, and looking at a vast shieth of notes.
The only other 2 seats were occupied by men of truly enormous proportions, the stark
resemblance in their faces making it clear that the 12 were a father and son. Oorjin
Velstraire, Mazhrit of the Velsturmen, sat, with his knees drawn up before him. His huge
chest seemed perfect for emitting from it a deep and resenant laugh, but his strong, well-
built arms seemed capable of crushing a man's skull. If he had stood, he would easily
reached 7 feet and 6 inches, and his son was even larger. The 2 men shared the same glaring
red hair, yet Otto Velstraire seemed to be lighter in general; the younger man was actually
smiling. His giant hands were folded in his lap as he checked the time on the watch that
was struggling to fit around his treetrunk-like wrist as he noted down some observations
about the Vakolicci delegates.
Velstrania must always have its say, he knew, especially if the 3 Velsturmen provinces were
actually about to be eclipsed by even larger entities within the Haven.
But right now, the group waited...waited for the future of the Haven; waited for the events
that would bring the Haven further on its quest for unification.

[Zammora]

Celaria
Turin royal multi-port

It was the first time Chancellor Raven set foot in Celaria in his entire life. In fact, he was the first Chancellor of the Enclave to ever set foot here at all in modern times. The contemporary foreign policy of the Hadean Enclave had characterised itself by a form of militant isolationism. As such it was a rare event for a Hadean leader to even set foot on foreign soil. In this long period of isolation, the Hadeans had been forging a massive army and society capable of total war. Chancellor Skaye, Raven's predecessor and mentor, had prophecized that one day the fatherland would be strong enough to rise to conquer the Alkharian continent. Under his and later Raven's leadership the Enclave steadily slumbered in hibernation to prepare for the inevitable opportunity to bring the Alkharian continent under Hadean leadership. And now, an opportunity had presented itself in the form of the Haven.

Raven remembered the last time he saw his predecessor Skaye. "Take back what is ours." Skaye said with great difficulty. It was clear that the decrepit old man was in pain, as every vowel in his sentence was interrupted by a coughing fit. The way the late Chancellor Skaye sat in his wheelchair with tubes entering his nostrils, was a sight that haunted Raven until today. It reminded him that even the greatest of leaders would wither, and that in due time even he himself would lay rotting in the ground until he was all but forgotten. But as the lateChancellor Skaye was the grand architect of the Enclave's masterplan, so would Chancellor Raven be the one whom would bring it to fruition. He would not be forgotten or ignored, and neither would the Hadean nation.

"His Excellency, Ian Mathus Raven, Chancellor of the Hadean Enclave, Chosen of the Hadean nation and Liberator the Hadean people." one of the secret agents escorting the Chancellor barked as they entered the conference room. A solid circle of black uniformed guards stood around the Hadean delegation, blocking them from the line of sight of all those present in the room. Slowly the circle opened and the Chancellor and his two companions stepped forward. He held his gloved hands behind his back as he greeted the Havenites with a sinister smirk that one would normally associate with a devilish chessmaster whom machinations finally yielded succes.

His words had the unmistakable touch of a mild Hadean accent "It is my pleasure to be with you here today.". He and his companions sat down at the table. To his left sat the Enclave's foreign minister, Ionin Spectre. To his right sat his humble secretary and assistant, an attractive young brunette whom would remain unintroduced. "With me here today is the honorable Ionin Spectre, the Enclave's minister for foreign affairs." Raven said, Spectre nodded slightly as to confirm his presence. "I look forward to what results this conference may yield." the minister spoke.

[Finium]

Church of Divine Providence
Hallsind, Finium Proper
Post-Imperial Federation

The Bishopric of Hallsind had always been the richest of Finium--her many deep-pocketed patrons had attempted to purchase the goodwill of the Church for centuries upon centuries--this resulted in all of the most grandiloquent events being held in the constantly expanding Church of Divine Providence. On this day, the red-carpeted wood-paneled stone-walled arch-ceiling monstrosity of a sanctuary contained the hushed remains of the Finian nobility. Their numbers were wracked by the sudden disappearance of the nation's major families. After a few months of economic hardships that lead to a deeper financial and political crisis, the greatest of Finians abandoned ship. Assembled here were counts, emirs and earls, but nowhere in the Empire could a rightful baron or a blooded duke be found. Worst of all, the Empire lacked an Emperor. In the place of the Emperor there was a regency, of noble birth entitled Lord-Regent. Unfortunately, such a quickly and furtively created title meant little more than the approval of the majority of the remaining nobles and the acceptance of the real rulers of the Empire; the bureaucrats that once directly served the will of the Emperor and now channeled his authority in his absence. The Lord-Regency changed hands every few months in a grand ceremony that was of more a mockery to the old authority off an Imperial Coronation.

It was such a farce that had filled the hallowed hall; now matter how undignified it was, everyone who was anyone had to be there, lest they be cut off from power altogether. Lord-Regent Johnathan Hahn had resigned due to his ailing heath and was passing his scepter (a replica of the real Imperial Scepter that had vanished along with its rightful owner) to his successor. It was a mystery as to what had caused his health to decline so suddenly, a mystery to all but his replacement, the reputable Marquis de St. Caux, Ernst Goddard. Marquis Goddard knew that Hahn's health was decaying due to liver failure, brought on by alcohol poisoning and a host of supporting drugs, provided by a series of particularly malicious cocktails served while the Regent stayed at the Chateau of one Ernst Goddard. As for everyone else, what a pity that the once great Consul of Relica had subsumed to the vice of drunkenness. Ernst watched Hahn out of the corner of his eye through the hymn #260, "Silently".

"Silently to rest we lay them, Empty is their house of clay; Unto God the soul returneth, Silently to pass away..." Hahn croaked his way through the verses; his gaze pointedly affixed to the monolithic crucifix that adorned the stage. He had never been an imposing man, but the slackness of his face and yellowed skin had turned an old man into a decrepit one. His sickness swelled under the careful attentions of Ernst's henchmen, causing mishaps and failures until the nation's elite lost their faith in the honest man and fell into line behind Ernst. The ceremony continued with a reading from the Book of Morion and the Gospel of Matthew, the Archbishop of Hallsind's reedy voice displaying the proportional depravity of the church.

All of the real power in the Empire was arrayed in the rearmost pew of the right file. Six men and two women, each in somber robes and sashes of some coarse black material, sat perfectly still. Tradition held them exempt from the practices of the church, not required to pray, tithe, or repent, but they were present here for the same reason everyone else was. Power was changing hands and they were the guardians of that sacred weapon. These eight statuesque figures were the renown Imperial Ministers, recently titled "National Administrators" to compensate for the lack of any real Imperial authority. They had approved the ascension of Ernst to the regency, for they had no ambition. Even in the height of their rule, they did not make decisions, but chose the decision-makers. Though they were government officials, they were sitting members of twenty-two boards and had hand-selected thirty-seven of the nation's most influential Chief Executives; doubtless they had their way in other positions of of power and influence as well. Sociopaths, one and all. They were all twisted into their current form by prior Emperors, perfected into the ultimate tools of bureaucracy by tortures, both physical and psychological, of the most horrendous description.

Then, quite suddenly, it was over. There was a prayer, the passage of the scepter from the shaking yellow hands of Hahn into the broader hands of Ernst, a procession out of the church that flew by and then the farce was over. Lord-Regent Goddard was suddenly the new face of the Empire; the machinations of the state stuttered as loyal supporters were shuffled in and persons with questionable allegiances vanished from their posts; fired or shot, it made little difference. Tomorrow, the federation would continue without anyone noticing the difference. Ernst, however, had deeper plans. His was not to be the temporary regency of his predecessors; he would not tolerate replacement or challenge and to do this, he needed his power to come from a higher authority than the church or the nobility. He needed a malleable master and he had arranged for just such an affair.

Turin Royal Multi-Port,
Turin, Celeria
The Greater Vakolicci Haven

The Finians came in great number; all dressed in white and gold with the eight-point emblem of the Empire stitched, pinned or painted onto everything. It was a shoddy display when compared to the grandeur of a Imperial delegation, but this would have to do. Everything was white except for the few non-nobles, who were few, but stuck out like sore thumbs in the presence of the thirty-odd Finians. First and foremost was Lord-Regent Ernst Goddard, the instigator of Finian involvement in the meeting to come; his uniform was gray and trimmed with gold, closer in kind to the federation flag. Also present were the democratic officials from the other major units of the Finian Federation, the Lord Chamberlain of Carynthia and the Grand Aldermen of Saturne. Most importantly were the eight National Administrators, clad in the same black vestments. It would be their authority that would bring the Finian Federation under Havenic control.

Also present was the visibly corroded carcass of Jonathan Hahn; his eyes now watching the ground with extra care. He wore the garments of a count, although he should have been a duke. After the disappearance of his would be predecessor, the old man had rejected his rightful rank out of shame for his family. Heroic, but ultimately his downfall when it was fully realized just how complete the exodus of the elite of the elite had been. His short regency had been one crisis after another, some the result of the great exodus, others were carefully plotted by his petty nemesis.

The Finians filed up slowly each bowing respectfully to King Blacksen, even in their stunted reign, the Haven's royalty was still what they saw as the source of authority. None of them introduced themselves and, in the absence of any military officers above the rank of General, there were no soldiers or heralds to announce them. They offered polite smiles or glowering indifference depending on their respective positions on the meetings. Coming at the end of the train were the National Administrators and Ernst followed, introducing each.

"His Majesty, it is my pleasure to present the National Administrators of the Post-Imperial Federation of Finium." Ernst began pompously. "Minister of the Exterior, Jonathan Nix, and his subordinates, the Vice Ministers of States, Trade and War."

At this distance it could be observed that there was a slight hierarchy to the administrators. The two chief ministers, the Exterior and Interior could be spotted by the possession of a minuscule gold pin in the shape of a sword and sun respectively. It was a small distinction since the divisions of their offices meant little. Each one had the same powers as the other and could operate within every sphere with absolute fluidity.

"The Minister of the Interior, Lucinda Ripclaw and her subordinates, the Vice Ministers of Safety, Prosperity and Order."

Ernst finished his introduction and the stiff ensemble merely nodded, their recognition sufficient and efficient. They were all identical in substance, though there were appropriate variations to demonstrate their lack of relation; tall, long-nosed, black-haired, pale-faced and bones as sharp as a knife. Ernst was a welcome comparison, a healthy rosy-faced man of some stature. He was, perhaps broader than he should have been, a little stretched out, but his smile were full and his teeth white.

"And your humble servant, My Lord, Lord-Regent of the Federation, Ernst Goddard. At your service."

[The greater Vakolicci Haven]

In a matter of moments, the scene of the King changed completely. At one point, the young man could, if the casual passer-by negated to notice the heavily jeweled headpiece he was sporting, be taken to be just another athletic-looking, tanned-skinned young man whispering into the ear of an atractive girl. A very short while afterwards, however, he was the very picture of royal organisation; ever-moving, with a dlowing face and warm hands perfect for a firm handshake.

This marked change in King Blacksen's manner of course coincided with the arrival of the guests that he had, until this very morning, not at all been expecting. The King stood dignified in the high, arched entryway to the interprovincial conference centre; Vakolicci President O'clane to his left, and the hulking, almost savage-like form of the Mazhrit Oorjin of Velstrania filling up the doorway to his right.

As the representatives of the Hadean enclave stepped into the chamber with all the authoratative and dignified disregard that Blacksen had come to expect from the files he had so recently read.

Though the chancellor did not profer his hand for a shake, Blacksen shook it anyway. "Welcome to Turin," he said in his warm, welcoming voice; the voice that everyone who knew him called his 'talking to important foreigners' voice. "I trust your journey was uneventful? Celeria is far from Sondria; feel free to ask any of my staff for whatever it is you need." He gestured to the group of slaves who, in a traddition which was surely strange to anyone unfamiliar to the Haven, were filling wine glasses with a highly expensive Delmontese vintage red.

The President and the Mazhrit took their turns to greet the new arrivals, before the King showed them to their seats near the head of the table, their to wait for the people that King Blacksen truly did not want to see.

They came, almost all in white, in significantly greater volume than usual; as if simply having more corrupted men present would hide the fact that they represented a diseased state. In Blacksen's mind, the post-imperial federation was a mockery of a once great and powerful Empire, a state that should have been left to fall apart and die like every other fallen Empire. Instead, it was still struggling on; all its honour and worth gone, replaced by these creatures that now trooped into the Celari conference chamber like they were actually wanted.
Blacksen would rather have taken Finium over, used it as some sort of military training ground. The President, however, seemed to have other ideas, seing Finium still as a useful ally. While he still needed to, the King would humour him.
What he wasn't having, however, was the near-obsequious nature of their introductions; only a few of them, mainly the corrupted 'national administrators' appeared to be seen worthy of names as the rest merely filed past, hoping to find chairs at the table; most coming up short. If Goddard truly was 'at his service,' he pondered, perhaps Blacksen should send the man and his friends out on a chair hunt.
"Welcome to Celeria!" he cheerfully said instead, logic and his voice clearly struggling to communicate with each other. "Please, make yourselves comfortable...no need to bow to anyone. If you require some refreshments, just ask any of my staff...we've pretty much got everything in, you're not going to struggle. Actually, on that front..."
He turned from the assembled ranks of everything important in Finium to the small group of slaves; some of which he'd actually prefer to have a conversation with.
"Marcin," he said almost emotionlessly.
"Yes, sir?" a man about his own age said, stepping forward. "Do you require anything?"
"Marcin...how long have you known me?"
"About 14 years, Sir."
"Yeah. You've known me since we were 6 years old. What's my Name?"
"Blacksen," the slave said exasperatedly, obviously having heard this lecture a thousand times before.
"I don't like my name, I actually have proof that my father was atempting to prove that their will be a Celari king with a more pretentious name than 'Althyus.' But if you use it, I might actually stop hating it."
"You won't," the man commented. "Anyway...what is it? Do you need some ch..."
"Chairs, yes."
"I'll go and speak to the housekeeping people."
"Thanks."

Hoping that this little pre-planned exchange would remove some of the dryness from the meeting, Blacksen reseated himself. One man who was not sitting down, however, was Lord-admiral Ivanovic; the ancient military leader walking with purpose towards Lord Hahn, Finium's former lord-regent.
Ivanovic had been around for longer than most people in the room could ever remember, and he knew Jonathan Hahn. The man was getting on in years yes, but now he looked posatively ill; weak on his feet with discolored skin. Strangely to the rest of the Havenic representatives, Ivanovic seemed somewhat concerned as he walked up to the man he'd known as a capable leader for decades.
"What is wrong?" he asked in a jovial manner. "You seem terribly ill. Don't tell me that the age is getting to you? You shouldn't let it do that.
Anyway, are you sure that you wish to sit through the ministrations of President O'clane's planning? You look like the ministrations of a doctor would be more needed."

[Finium]

The white-garbed flock of nobles settled into the hastily constructed gallery-like arrangement of chairs, only five Finians would actually participate in the meeting. The Lord-Regent, the two ranking National Administrators and the two executives of the other two fundamental units of the Federation, Carynthia and Saturne. Collectively, they wielded the supreme power in the Federation, which was lacking checks, balances and other structures of democratic society. It was a complex and delicate operation to be performed. First and foremost, anything demanded by the National Administrators would be absolute, their power was unquestioned and immutable, but while they could not be silenced, their interests were so few and specific, that their silence could be expected. Likewise, the Alderman of Saturne and Lord Chamberlain of Carynthia had very little sway over the actual goings-on; their respective nations were in such turmoil following the decline of the Imperial Bloodline that it was difficult to say how and when they would be able to speak. Finally, Ernst Goddard remained implacable, behind him was arrayed the host of Finians, the few men and women powerful enough to weather the collapse of the Empire, but not influential enough to have escaped along with the greater nobility. He could, within reason, effect the most authority as Regent of the Federation and the Finian sub-state. Even then, he had to walk carefully to avoid voiding any of the alliances that had brought him his meteoric rise to power; the unspoken and secretive authority of the host in white.

Like many Finians, Hahn was not blessed with excellent humor, but he was experienced enough to communicate with foreigners and while he was no diplomat, he was know as one of the most sociable members of the Imperial Court. He grinned kindheartedly, but his smile quickly changed to a grimace and then into a hacking cough. His eyes remained in a crinkled smile, but his nose was buried in a slightly stained handkerchief. "I am afraid that it is my liver rather than my vitality that has failed me." Having finished his cough, he gripped the admirals shoulder in a gesture that most of his rank would consider inappropriate, but that was justified by the longstanding series of encounters they had enjoyed through the years.

[The greater Vakolicci Haven]

Lord-admiral Ivanovic was not shocked; he'd seen the yellowed skin and the man's distant air. Still, he was shocked to see that the man had not been able to have the issue sorting out: even though all rhumours pointed to him being something of a drunk, if he was as ill as he looked he'd have gotten it treated.
Ignoring the looks of the people around him, the ancient admiral continued; allowing his old friend to grip his still well-built shoulder.
"Why do you not get it sorted out now you're in the Haven? Our military hospitals are the quickest, their's no waiting time for liver transplants if you know the right people." Catching the eye of the President, he continued "Ah...the comedy is about to start; President O'clane's about to start droaning on about nothing much. I'll catch you later."

With that, he briskly walked back to his seat at the table and sat down.

[The greater Vakolicci Haven]

With the return of Lord-Admiral Ivanovic to the table, glasses of wine were replaced, the President straightened in his chair and the flashing cameras of the assembled press began clicking at a fever pick as the air of anticipation of things to come grew. History was in the making today: everyone in the room, and in the Haven at large knew; and it would be Ronan O'clane who would usher it in.

"Honoured friends," he said in his loud, crisp, melodious voice as he got to his feet. "Today is a day that will stand in the memories of all our peoples for generations to come. It is a day that will be remembered as a day of friendship, a day of peace, and a day of ascention. Today, 5 noble peoples shall put down their collective differences and enter an era of peace and brotherhood under 1 collective flag. Today, the boundaries of a Haven of many nations shall reach out far and wide: a testament to the world of prosperity and strength.
This is the day in which 1 great Haven shall stand forever together against the pressures that other powers place on it: a state ready to both trade and fight, with the capacity and will to do both. I have prepared a document, signed by Schkorpallers of all major Vakolicci, Celari, and Velsturman parties, as well as representatives of our respective militaries. I present it now for your approval or alteration, for if a truly great Haven is to stand, it cannot be dominated by 1 of its peoples."

From under the table, the President produced a rather unassuming-looking, slim leather-bound booklet, which he placed on the table and began to read aloud. Celari slaves hurriedly handed out identicle copies to all seated delegates.

"We, the undersigned representatives of our respective nations, granted in our means to act upon our will for a strong and perfect union, granted by our respective nations the obligation to act in the betterment of our respective nations, do pledge the following;

1. Upon this day, a new entity is to be founded.
(A): This Entity Is To Be Referred to in law as the True and United Haven.
(B) The states known collectively as the Greater Vakolicci Haven (excluding those States known as Celeria, and those known as Velstrania), the state known as the Kingdom of Celeria, the State known as the Unified and Holy nation of Velstrania, the State known as the Hadean Enclave and the State known as the Post-imperial federation of Finium shall form equal partners within this entity.
(C) These states, henseforth collectively referred to as 'The Provinces,' are free to subdivide in their legal status as provinces following approval of either their respective law-making body or a referendum of the people, having in its completion no less than 75 % of the eligible population of the respective state.
(D) Governence in the Provinces shall remain unchanged, save for reservations made in subsequent articles of this document.
(E) The Official languages of all provinces shall become official languages of the True United Haven as a whole.

2. The True United Haven shall have within it a legislature to henceforth be referred to as the Havensschkorpal.
(A) This Havensschkorpal's location shall be in a suitably-sized and appropriate building within the nominated capital of the True United Haven.
(B) The Havensschkorpal's membership shall be composed of members from each province, represented according to their population.
(C) The means for appointing these Members shall be chosen by each province individually.
(D) Unless ordered by the High confederal court, no Province shall attempt to interfere with the selection process in any province save their own.
(E) This Havensschkorpal shall have the authority to make collective and binding decisions for the True United Haven as a whole.
(F) Decisions made by the Havensschkorpal can be overridden with the approval of 4 out of 5 provinces, or out of 4/5 of all provinces should this union grow.
(G) This hHavensschkorpal shall sit for periods of no more than 5 years, after which time a Havensschkorpal election shall be held Haven-wide.
3. All executive authority shall be vested in a Havenic president (and administration so appointed by him/her.)
(A) This President shall be elected in a mannor chosen by each province.
(B) To be elected president, a candidate must have the electoral support of a majority of provinces. If this cannot be achieved after 3 electoral rounds, a simple majority vote shall be held haven-wide to determine the President.
(C) The President has the authority to veto decisions made in the Havensschkorpal, or to cast the deciding vote in the Havensschkorpal in the event of a tie.
(D) The President has the authority to appoint justices to all Confederal courts, with the backing of 3 out of the 5 provinces.
(E) It is the President's sole responsibility to appoint federal officials.
(F) The President has the power to call a vote to expel a province from the Confederation at any time.

4. The Supreme Judicial power of this True United Havenshall be vested in a High Confederal Court.
(A) This High Confederal court has the authority to hear cases between 2 Havenic Citizens (of the same Province or of differing Provinces), between 2 corporations (of the same province or of differing Provinces), between a citizen and a corporation, between a citizen and a province, between 2 provinces, between a Province and the Havenic Central Government, between a corporation and the Havenic Central government, or between a citizen and the Havenic Central Government.
(B) Justices of this High Confederal Court shall sit for a period of their choosing, or until death.
(C) This High Confederal Court shall be composed of 13 justices.
(D) A justice of this high confederal court must not hold political office, nor be a registered member of any political party.

5. This True united Haven, seing the liberty and prosperity of its citizens as the cornerstone of a stable and lasting nation, shall enact certain inalienable rights, which no man, province or government shall lawfully remove from a citizen.
(A) A citizen of this Haven has the right to run for federal office, indiscriminate of age, ethnicity, gender, disability or economic status.
(B) A citizen of this True United Haven has the right to move or settle in any province of his or her choosing.
(C) A citizen of this True United Haven has the right to not face punishments equal or greater in severity than 5 years in Provincial jail for a crime that was not a punishable offense in his or her home Province.
(D) A citizen of this True United Haven has the write to criticise Federal politicians or officials, actions of the above, the True United Haven or actions thereof, or recognised symbols of either.

6. This True United Haven, recognising the unique nature of each Province, provisions for each province certain inalienable rights.
(A) Unless in conflict with Haven-wide legislation, each Province has the freedom to enact laws binding within their own provincial boarders.
(B) Each Province is unrestricted in its ability to maintain its own active military, independent of the rest of the Haven.
(C) Each Province may maintain its own foreign policy, aside from in cases which endanger the Haven as a whole or fellow Provinces.

7. In order to maintain a closer union, it has been considered necisary to enact certain provisions for this Union's maintenance.
(A) Each Province is required, without reservation, to defend each fellow province in the event of outside aggression.
(B) No province shall, whether politically, economically or militarily, attempt to harm or isolate another province.
(C) All import and export tariffs shall be abolished between provinces.
(D) To facilitate free movement of goods and services, the Vakolicci standard Dral shall become the sole official currency of this True United Haven.

Signed:
For the Greater Vakolicci Haven:
Ronan W. O'clane, Havenic President
Dianne Stevenson, Havenic senior secretary of state for foreign relations
Lord-Admiral Branislav Ivanovic, supreme commander-in-chief of the Vakolskrtm, secretary of State for defence.

For the Kingdom of Celeria:
His Celari Majesty, King Blacksen I, of the House of Domination, blessed of the Gods
Her Celari Majesty, Queen Laura of the Clan of McCabe and the House of Domination
The Honourable Lord Alexander Gordavris-darenen, Duke of Selinis

For the Unified and Holy Nation of Velstrania:
Oorjin Velstraire, Mazhrit of Velstrania
Lochnaus nos Menlich, Commander-General of the Velsturmen defence force
Isn'goer nos Meldintagh, High Minister of Velstrania.

[Zammora]

Chancellor Raven and Minister Spectre took turns reading the document, creating an uncomfortable silence in the room. Their faces were blank throughout the entire document, making it near impossible to asses their thoughts on the document. Only near the end did the Chancellor betray a hint of emotion, a slight sudden flash of displeasure.

"There are several things we want to point out." the Chancellor spoke. "First of all, the document is quite inconsistent regarding the selection of members of the Havensschkorpal. First it states that the method is left to the individual provinces. Later however, it states that after the sitting period for the Korpal, region-wide elections will be held. So this would imply that there would be an election at Havenic level, with no choices left for the provinces on how to select their representatives. Article 5A also implies elections by stating that 'A citizen of this Haven has the right to run for federal office, indiscriminate of age, ethnicity, gender, disability or economic status.', this also implies that we are required to appoint our representatives through election, same with 5D. It should be clarified what all this is to imply."

Raven turned to Spectre, whom then continued. "Secondly, why is preference given to the Vakolicci language? Why not chose a more linguistically impartial term such as Congress or Assembly? The average Hadean would be hard pressed to even pronounce Havensschkorpal."

Spectre paused briefly, before moving to his next point. He glanced quickly at a small notebook he had with him. "There is something we would want added, a small article stating the right of any province to unilaterally leave the Haven." he allowed his words to sink in.

"There is some more." Raven then said once more. "We want to lay it all on the table right now. We have big reservations to article 5 in general. Firstly, 5B. While we are willing to tolerate free movement, we demand the right to impose reasonable restrictions. You can't expect us to allow potential threats to state security to enter our Enclave. Secondly, 5C is absolutely unacceptable. From our conversations earlier I hoped we already reached concensus on this, but clearly we have not. We demand to be free to punish according to Hadean law and not be restricted in any way. This is, quite frankly, a deal breaker."

[Finium]

The Finian sat deaf to the constitution proposed by the President, one or two in the gallery perhaps perused it, but them, such a solemn affair could not be presented in such simple terms as law. It was as the ancient philosopher wrote in the Book of Morion, "the civilities of mankind are granted by the state and the civility of the state is granted by the Crown." In other words, these men and women had powers that were constrained not by law, but by age old traditions and ideals of order. The Finian right to rule came partially from God, as most pious tyrants claim, but more importantly, their titles contained in them the privilege of power and all of the rights of the state. A written law then, inherently conflicted with their right to negotiate with the Haven at all.

"My Lord," Ernst said, rising and recognizing the King with a bow, but addressing the President, "This document you have composed does not bind us--laws are without meaning unless the issuer has the rights of a Lord and I cannot, therefore, impose this constitution on the Lords of the Empire."

There was tremor of approval from the gallery and the other delegates nodded their heads sagely. The Administrators watched quietly, but did not deny the challenging nature of Finian subservience. Ernst motioned to Ripclaw, who rose quickly as Ernst was seated. She did not bow, but inclined her head appropriately before beginning.

"The right to rule is derived from the title of the realm, the highest of which is, of course, the Emperor. In order for unity to be achieved, the highest titled Finian must acquiesce his allegiance, just as every other Finian has done for him. In this way, the Empire shall then become subservient to the holder of the Emperor's allegiance."

A murmur of approval from the crowd once again. Ripclaw motioned for one of her inferiors to stand. The Vice Minister, undoubtedly that of Order, approached King Blacksen and proffered a scroll with an alternative proposal. At the bottom, a series of signatures and wax seals marked the heavy, cream paper.

"This, My Lord, is the necessary step for our inclusion in the Have." Said Ernst.

The Lord-Regent of Finium, acting in the stead of His Imperial Majesty, the Defender of Order, the First Servant of God, the Chair of the Barony Court, the President of the Lord's Council, the Steward of Earth, the Emperor of Finium, does hereto swear his fealty to the Crown of the Vakolicci to defend that person, his territories and rights, and the territories and rights of his successor. The Lord-Regent of Finium, acting in the sight of God as the Guardian of His First Servant's Church, does hereto pledge the sacred right of rule to the Crown of the Vakolicci and makes Her law his law, and Her borders his borders that God might bless this union with his righteousness.

The Lord-Regent of Finium, acting in the stead of the assembled Lords of Finium, Carynthtia and Saturne, shall hereafter be made Emperor of Finium by the Crown of the Vakolicci and shall defend order, serve God, guide the Barony Court, preside over the Lord's Council, steward the whole Earth and so shall be the Imperial Crown of Finium and he shall therefore establish the Governors of the Empire and shall define the causes of war and shall have a successor; for so it has been and so it will be.

The Crown of the Vakolicci shall give to the Emperor of Finium the autonomy of His Imperial Majesty's constituency and dominion so that he might defend the Crown and his laws and his borders so that God might bless this union with his righteousness. Likewise, the Emperor of Finium shall defend the order of the Vakolicci and shall accept those laws that the Crown may see fit to create.

This fealty shall be sworn by each estate of the Empire and by each Lord and by each man in the person of the Emperor of Finium to the Crown of the Vakolicci so that it might be justified by all of Finium and all of her subjects and so that God might bless this union with his righteousness.

Just so as it is hereto written by,

Ernst Goddard
Lord-Regent of the Imperial Crown
Actor of the Imperial Crown
Officiant of the Empire

Johnathan Nix
Minister of the Exterior
Servant of the Imperial Crown

Lucinda Ripclaw
Minister of the Interior
Servant of the Imperial Crown

Anastasia Dirigible
Alderman of Saturne
Officiant of the Federation

Alfred Windkey
Lord-Chamberlain of Carynthia
Officiant of the Federation

Li Moore
Archbishop of Hallsind
Officiant of the Church

*****

[The greater Vakolicci Haven]

As the Chancellor and Minister finished their rather negative appraisal of the Confederal Treaty, heads were joined as a clearly bemused Celari King spoke rapidly in his guttural native tongue, and his wife attempted to calm him. The Celari's arms shook, and a visible flash of red hot anger burned in his eyes before a tired, quiet voice spoke up; a voice few of them recognised.

Vrone had removed her angular glass mask, and those around the table who cared for her wished she hadn't. If Lord Hahn was living reminder of the dangers of alcohol, the 29-year old Vakolicci intelligence chief was a testament to the trials of overwork.
Her face was that of a woman decades older than her; her once-beautiful features creased by worry-lines which spoke of a life of hard work and little comfort. Under her dull, near-lifeless eyes had huge bags underneath them: Vrone had not slept before this meeting, the President realised. Vrone probably hadn't slept for some time. She stood, shaking on her feet to take the floor, keeping a hold of the table to steady herself as fatigue threatened to overwhealm her.

"I must lay some of your concerns to rest, good Chancellor," she murmured in her once strong, proud voice. "I am responsible for much of the law enforcement network in the Greater Vakolicci Haven...you must understand, that is the Haven in Sondria and Tyrrhenia only, without Celeria or Velstrania. I can assure you that, failing an order from at least a 4th-level Vakolicci court, Iros shall not be making any demands for deportation of its citizens in a hurry. Of course, if a Vakolicci faces exicution, we would ask your government to think with a huminitarian outlook; you must surely understand, it would be a grave tragedy if anyone should lose their life based on a simple misunderstanding."
Sighing from the effort of speaking, Vrone reseated herself and folded her arms upon the table, allowing Vice-president Jonathan Blazen to rise.
"Of course," he addressed the Hadeans with a nod of his head. "I cannot speak with my friends from either Celeria or Velstrania on this matter, and I strongly suspect that separate arrangements will have to be made between yourselves and the leaders of both of these provinces. I can agree, however, with what the honourable Lady Vrone has pointed out; the Vakolicci are unexpected to call a prisoner of yours back, especially as many of the activities our citizens are known to partake in that are illegal in your state are most likely to be undertaken within the Vakolicci Province itself. You have nothing to fear from this.
As for the wording, I would like to point out that an 'Election' is merely a word used to signify the method in which a person is chosen to take office. Whether this election is performed in the method used by the Vakolicci, or whether it is performed by inheritance, or even whether it is performed by a TV talent competition, this would still be acceptable under this document. To answer your other concern, I would believe that this was obvious. Of course a Province has the right to leave the Haven, much as they have entered into it, by their own free will."

[The greater Vakolicci Haven]

"I knew this would happen," the King almost groaned as the Finians put on their show, each person only speaking their allotted lines and for their allotted time. Why, he thought, did a nation have to be so deep-rooted in its own traditions, that even when collapse was highly possible they had to hold on to them?
Reading through the small scroll, he quickly deciphered the odd terminology that the Finians used. 'Crown,' he knew did not imply an actual Crown was possessed. Vakolicci, however in his mind had a clear meaning. Rising, he offered the scroll to President O'clane, the man who could most be called the leader of the Vakolicci who quizzically read the article.
"I am in a position to sign this," he said finally. "And I have no reservations with Finium again having an Emperor, as long as this emperor does maintain the relationship with the Haven as the President of the Vakolicci or the King of Celeria, which this document does inform me yourself and your successers shall do." O'clane was eying the references to the 'Crown of the Vakolicci,' and a golden opurtunity dawned on him. By their specification of fealty to the Crown of the Vakolicci, the Finians could serve easily to considerably hurt the positions of the King of Celeria and the Mazhrit of Velstrania in political matters. They, after all, were not Vakolicci.
Taking the pen from the leather holder in front of him, he wrote in his pronounced, slanting hand.
"Ronan W. O'clane, President of the Greater Vakolicci Haven," before drawing his elegant signature mark, a red snake coiled around a globe. He stood, brought the signed letter to the Finians, and reseated himself.

[Zammora]

Minister Spectre leaned in to exchange a few hushed words with the Chancellor, but before he could even whisper anything Chancellor Raven rose from his seat. Raven pressed his fists on the table and leaned on them, towering over those sitting in their seats. The Chancellor was a relatively muscular man, although this was not uncommon in Hadean politics. While he managed to retain his calm polite tone, one would not be surprised to learn that the Chancellor was annoyed.

"Surely you don't expect us to depend only on the goodwill of the provinces? There will be no negotiation over this, we will not sign any treaty with a law as ridiculous as this. We Hadeans pride ourselves on our system of justice, and we will not give anyone a legal option to subvert it, even if they promise not to use it. There is a principle of sovereignty at stake here, which should unsurprisingly be very important to the Hadean nation. And honestly, I fail to see why anyone would want such a peculier law in the treaty in the first place. The logic and reasoning behind it evade us completely. Those who voluntarily choose to enter Hadea, implicitly agree to be bound by its laws. We see no reason why anyone would think about this otherwise."

[Finium]

The Finians gave a polite, tired applause. Everyone already knew that this was going to happen. Everyone present was either going to benefit from the change, or had a gun pointed to their heads in one way or another. Share in the glory or be gagged, that was to be the reign of Ernst Goddard, the Haven's Emperor.

"Thank you, My Lord President, for allowing this momentous and most fortunate era of unification." Goddard pronounces lengthily, "Our unified people shall stand as a beacon of hope, determination and the power of unity around the world. In this spirit, I extend an invitation to all of you present, to join the Empire is celebrating this new era with my coronation!"

Another round of slightly bored applause, muffled by a shamed people.