A Gathering in Dinsmar (Closed Attn Pardes/OSEN)

[Temuair]

Gran Luxo Hotel
Dinsmar, AS
Empire of Temuair

Emperador Vitor Anton Avila, the 7th Avila to hold the reigns of power in the Empire, stood on a darkened balcony overlooking the spacious ball room on the Gran Luxo's ground floor. Its polished wooden and tiled floor gleaming from the bright light of the ornate chandeliers overhead. Though no trace of the 1993 fire that had gutted the buildings first floor remained, Avila thought he could still smell the tang and soot stench of smoke in the air.

He gazed down towards the ballroom floor, at the workers and servants scurrying about the room, setting up chairs and tables, waxing and polishing the already gleaming floor. The preparations to receive the heads of state of the other 9 nations of the Organisation of South-Eastern Nations were nearly complete; and a good thing they were, as the time of their arrival was close at hand. In a little under three hours, the first of the esteemed heads of state should be arriving at Xoia International Airport; and he intended to be there to greet each and everyone of them.

The guests would be housed here in the Gran Luxo, certainly the finest establishment in Temuair, and possibly the finest in the region, for several days. There was no pressing business to be discussed, no crisis to be attended to. though there was no shortage of hot topics to discuss; events of the world such as the ongoing conflicts in Bogoria and Bariya, the impending commitment of forces to Terinya, in which both Anikatia and Prestonia were involved, and the impending OSEN landing exercises in the eastern islands of Estovnia. This meeting was more informal....if a meeting between powerful people could ever be informal. Avila, new to reigns of power, wished to meet his colleges, interact with them, study them, and understand the so that he may better work to secure Temuair's place on the rungs of the ladder of world power. One most know thine enemy, surely, but he must also known thyself, and thine allies.

While there may be no pressing need for discussion, that did not mean the events details had not been organized. As a matter of custom, an agenda had been published and provided to all of the attendees, dinner, cocktails and socializing on the first night. Th second day was less organized in the morning and afternoon, allowing the attendees to take n the sights of the city at their leisure, or with a guided tour if they so choose. The evening events were the ones that interested Avila the most. A traditional fencing duel had been orchestrated for those willing to participate. The duel would be tournament style, with fighting, the winners engaging the winners until the end. The duels were, of course, not to the death, though Avila had heard those may still be practiced in Dniegua. No, they would use simple fencing foils, no edges and ball tips, so there would be no danger of injury. Avila had been an avid fencer in his youth, and was aware that many of the other attendees were practiced at the sport. Although he believed the Hetman may give him some trouble, he believed he could best the others, and was certainly eager to try.

“Sir.” a soft, yet imposing voice whispered from behind him. Though he was startled; Liam's catlike grace was renown throughout the Imperial Marshals Service and nothing new to Avila, he still did his best to refrain from showing his shock.

“Yes, Liam?” he said, turning to face the single member of his protection detail. In the past, Emperadors had been known to have entire teams dedicated to their personal protection. Avila found he only needed a single man.

“If you're to be at the airport in time, we should go.”

“Of course. Lead the way.”

Avila followed the Marshal from the hotel to the waiting limousine, and tried not to let himself be intimidated by the fact that, within a few short hours, he would be greeting some of the most powerful leaders in Pardes.

[Central Prestonia]

The sky had already gone dark over Dinsmar as the C750 business jet lined up to circle the international airport that would serve as the staging point for the leaders of ten nations as they arrived. From the air, the lights of the big city illuminated the horizon, each of these telling in its own strange way the story of one citizen or another of this ancient and, until recently, reclusive state. An office light of a skyscraper, from some businessman working late on an important project. Headlights of a thousand cars, a thousand people with somewhere to go, somewhere to be. The bright lights of advertisements, the dim and wildly-gesticulating spotlights of the most exclusive nightclubs. This was Vitor Anton Avila's land, a land which on its surface seemed not too much different from the downtown district of Hudson. But then, most downtowns didn't. Nations, and their leaders, were like that; you never really got to know the true character from a distance. For that, you had to get up close and personal.

That, Emperor Kazuhito supposed, was the purpose of this meeting. Of course, there was an agenda; going over some joint exercises, some discussions about Terinyi, but in the end, this was a social call. It made sense, really; Vitor Anton Avila, known to his subjects as Emperor Avila VII, was new to the reigns of power, and wanted to meet his colleagues. Albert Francis was in a similar position. His reign was not yet a year old, though he'd had the benefit of a few years of effectively running the show while his father lay dying of an inoperable stomach cancer. He hadn't had the opportunity nor the desire to go abroad then, but had gotten a chance to meet, greet and operate all the same. Avila had had no such luxury; in Temuair, they did things differently, and the succession was not known until the elder Avila had passed. For Avila to work as Albert Francis had would be seen as inappropriate at best, downright treasonous at worst.

As the plane continued to hold, the Emperor was going over the finer points of his briefing one last time with his personal secretary. Ishihara Tomoko had been on the staff of the Imperial Household Office since graduation; at 48, she was roughly the Emperor's own age and held a reputation as one of the few men--or women, for that matter--in the entire Empire who could tell the EMperor no. Being the private secretary to His Imperial Majesty, managing his schedule to the minute, came with such privileges. On this state visit, Ishihara's micromanaging was on full display.

"We're ten minutes late for arrival," she humphed to nobody in particular. "I'm going to find out what's holding us up at Dinsmar International. We were supposed to have a clear route in."

"It'll be fine, Ishihara-san," the Emperor said smoothly. "No alliance to date has ever been lost on account of a late plane."

"That isn't the point," she muttered irritably, before conceding the point. There was no need, nor anything to be won, by arguing with the Emperor on something over which she had no direct control. Turning to the manila folder she clutched, she decided on a new course.

"While we wait," she began with a note of irritation on the last word. "Let's review the dossier again. Your host is Vitor Anton Avila, known to his subjects as Avila VII. When you meet him for the first time, use the formal style; after that, he's usually open to first-name or Mr. Avila. We're also expecting President Sui from Anikatia, whom you've already met, President Mihajlovic from Gratislavia, the King of Valinor and Hetman Folke of Dniegua. The leaders of Sieuxerr, Austrasia, Estovnia and Tule are also expected, but we haven't heard their formal acceptance yet. Their dossiers are attached here as well. Formal titles for all until they indicate otherwise. We've included a list of suggested discussion topics for each, which I'm sure you've gone over."

"Sui was at my New Year's Ball, as I recall. Charming woman, sharp as a tack," the Emperor said. "I recall Mr Howe was quite charmed with her..."

"Yes, yes," Amelia replied sharply, bringing the Emperor's focus back. "Moving on. Avila was not at your party, not invited, and it will do well if you make some sort of deferential reference to that. Beyond that, basic rapport-building. We've arranged a state gift for all of the attendees, to be delivered via our embassy, be sure to emphasize these as a commitment to our continued friendship et cetera. This part you're good with, so I don't feel the need to belabour it." The Emperor nodded here, signalling her to continue.

"Now, onto the topics of discussion for tonight. Here," she said, handing the Emperor a sheaf of files. "Are the latest statements from your Government regarding Terinyi. You'll notice Howe has broken a bit differently than we expected him to; no overt support, but implicit support for humanitarian ops once the Tippercommoners take care of the light work. If Sui was counting on Prestonian support, and we expect she probably was, she may be disappointed, but it shouldn't be anything too severe. The coupists should fold in a week, after that Howe thinks we'll be good to go."

"Couldn't whip the votes for an invasion force, I take it."

"Evidently not. He wasn't pleased when he delivered the report, but that's politics I suppose. Regarding the exercises in Estovnia, we're in full support and committed to providing whatever is required. Assuming the Estovnians show, we'll be able to discuss that in more detail with them."

Suddenly, the ding of the plane's intercom interrupted the conversation. "Good evening Your Majesty," the cool voice of the pilot intoned. "We're five minutes out and beginning our landing process. We recommend at this time that you fasten your seatbelt and place your seat in the upright position."

The Emperor complied, as his aide took a seat across from him. "Once we've landed, we'll taxi to the far terminal that's been requisitioned for us. The Aisling have a press pool set up, photographers mostly, in a separate room. You'll get a courtesy shot with Avila, and then be moved on."

"No paparazzi, there's something to be thankful for," the Emperor replied with a laugh. He enjoyed his job, being the Emperor, but all the same it was nice to be able to navigate a terminal on a state visit without having to stop every ten metres to shake a hand, pose for a picture or kiss a baby. His mind was jolted once again as the plane gently touched down, running out the length of the runway as the reverse thrusters roared to life. A few minutes later, the plane had docked at the gate as the gangway was extended. It was showtime.

[Dniegua]

The mass of lights below were stunning. A sprawling city of light, stretching distance beyond that which one could see. Thousands of spectacles unfolding at once. The sight from above was amazing, one would boggle the mind of anyone who cared to look.

It is too bad, then, that no one was.

The Rhinefeltaba Aviation 340 above was as alive as any preparation room could be in any government building. Teams of people all gabbed and babbled angrily at one another, consulted yelled into telephones with various intensities, and consumed expensive foods. Finely groomed and all generally dressed in black tie, the gathering seemed to mirror more of the worlds angriest art convention than a political preparedness session.

If it was in fact the worlds angriest art convention, then, the art piece was quite obvious.

“Do I have to wear this damned thing?” the art shouted. Quite suddenly, the cabin of the aircraft went from a babble for nonsense to a total quiet. A woman approached the art with an unusual smile on. She grabbed at it and straightened a sleeve with a giggle.

“You look fine, Folke. A little..funny, but just as handsome as ever. And yes, you do need to wear it. Its the traditional Hetmans ceremonial dress. Can you imagine the field day the media would have if they caught you arriving at your first official meeting of your rule without them?”

“I mean...thats true...but think about what it would actually imply. “Hetman Folke brings Dniegua into 20th Century by wearing actual human clothing to event, hailed by all as trailblazer’. Doesn't that have a good ring to it?”

“It does, but whats far more likely to read ‘Young Hetman disgraces culture; family.”

The art was not actually that. Folke Venevitinov was the most recent, and the youngest, Hetman in Dnieguan history. Having taken the reigns from his father only a month prior, the young Venevitinov, now, was on his way to meet, for the first time, the leaders of OSEN-The Organization of South-Eastern Nations.

And he looked ridiculous.

Dressed in traditional clothing of the visiting Hetman, he wore a long blue pair of pants, tucked neatly into a pair of flamboyant scarlet leather boots. His sash bore the royal colors along his midline. His shirt was neatly festooned with an elaborate set of beads, stones and gems. Atop this, a great coat that pointed sharply, pinned with metals and a set of Gaziri that gave the jacket considerable heft. At his side, a Shashka, encased in an ornamental scabbard with a handle made of the finest ivory. The blade itself was 400 years old, and bore one of the crown jewels on the handle.

"I look like an Anikatian cartoon character."

"Yes, but at least you get a sword."

There was nothing he would like more than to be wearing a suit and tie at that moment.

“Now, sir, let us go over your speaking lines again. Practice your accent."

As the team resumed screaming at one another, the pilot received the permission to land order, in what would be, for sure, an interesting event.

[The Kievan People]

"Sir, you've woken up. Did you sleep well?" First Minister Sigenandus zu Eisenberg tried to conceal his surprise as he, and the rest of the staff, abruptly stood in acknowledgement of the Emperors entrance.

Sigenandus was surprised to see the Emperor on his feet. He had expected him to sleep through the landing.

Roland III smiled and waved dismissively as took a few haltering steps towards his seat "Sit, sit all of you. We will be landing soon will we not? There is not much to see from my cabin except the wing you know, so I decided to come to the lounge for a better view".

"A fine idea sir" Sigenandus and the others returned to their seats slowly, none of them was so brash as to return to their seat before the Emperor had taken his.

Helped by his two attendants into his seat, the Emperor closed his eyes for a moment to relax and catch his breath, no one in the cabin spoke a word. Roland knew they did it out of respect but it irked him regardless. He did not need another reminder of his advancing age. So having relaxed momentarily he broke the silence "There will be many new faces this year, Vitor, Folke, that Prestonian fellow..."

"Albert Francis, sir" one of his aids quietly reminded him.

"Yes, Francis. I remember now. It will be a great pleasure to meet them, even if some familiar faces will be absent..."

Roland III. The first Emperor of the Third Empire of Austrasia, the only popularly elected emperor in Austrasian history, was getting old. He had been elected to power twenty-four years ago and for decades before that he had been one of the most prominent and outspoken critics of the Junta which ruled the so-called 'Austrasien State'. His original career as an officer in the army of the Second Republic seemed like a lifetime ago now.

Age had been hard on his body. His movements were strained and his attendants were always close at hand. But his mind was sound and he will still the Emperor of Austrasia. It was an open secret that men and even women, another novelty in Austrasian politics, were beginning to position themselves for the election to succeed him but he fully intended to disappoint them. He had no intention of dropping dead or shuffling off into retirement yet.

Besides age had some advantages. He had a depth of political experience few of the other heads of state could hope to match, the new Hetman he had realized to his amusement had been a little boy when he had ascended the throne. If the purpose of a monarch was to embody the continuity of the state beyond over and above the shifting landscape of politics, few Roland reckoned could do it better than him.

First Minister Sigenandus meanwhile was becoming lost as thought as he mulled over the issues that would likely come up during the meeting. Embarrassingly he did not immediately reply to the Emperor, and when trying to correst it when-

"Sir I am sure..."

-he was interrupted by the crackle of the PA as the pilot announced they were beginning the approach to Dinsmar and instructed them to buckle in. They had arrived.

[Husseinarti]

Sitting high above the clouds, the single Falcon 7X neared and crossed over from Sieuxerrian airspace into Temuair. On board was the President of Sieuxerr, Adrien Auriol, who just starting his second term as president of the nation. He sat silently in his personal cabin, looking out from the single window, as the plane seemed to glide on top of the world at 32,000 feet. He rarely got these moments, where he could just sit and stare into the void, with no real thoughts on his head. Even as he tried to convince himself he could relax, however, the thoughts of his presidency, the polices that were coming up to vote, and just everything else seemed to still linger in his mind.

He had maintained the Sieuxerrian People's Evolution Party's platform for over four years, which had not changed much single the last president, whom Adrien had replaced what felt like an eternity before. While he maintained the party's platform, the man was never one to just simply "go with it." He had promised changes to the government, expansions of private industry, and overall the improvement of the average Sieuxerrian citizens life. That was however, before he encountered the deadlock that was the Senate. He was a Senator himself, but he'd always suspected that once you sat atop the throne, you would be in control. However it felt anything like that, he felt as if the Parliament was set out against him. People who he had called 'friends' in the various parties before when he was a Senator seemed to only speak bad of him now. He felt that his every move was criticized, he found himself unable to sleep certain nights due to the weight of the world that seemed to drive himself onto his shoulders.

The man had aged considerably. He was only 42, still prime years for most men, however Adrien felt that these years would be his worst.

However, even as he aged, as he stayed up at night, as he stressed and seemed to have thoughts come though his mind at thousands and miles a minute. He still was ambitious. One could say that he was just sitting by, testing the waters of the political climate as the president. It was what he had did as a Senator. He maintained the party's platform his first term, but then began to try to change things once he'd be reelected. It wasn't as successful as he was just a single man in a Senate hundreds strong, but he'd made an impact with his own party members and those in other parties. It was enough to get him into office, and he was poised to do it again.

He had great plans for Sieuxerr and Skandera itself. He was a patriot at heart, he loved his nation and loved the people more, no matter how much they seemed to hate him to talk him down. He knew he had their best interests at heart, even if they didn't know it. This meeting of the leaders of OSEN would be his first major event since his reelection in November of last year. He had cancelled a state dinner a few weeks ago, citing 'poor health' that he didn't "Want a state dinner to become a science experiment" as he wanted to not sit with local leaders, but the leaders of nations in an environment that was to spark discussion and get policy making into its foundation stages.

These people would be the driving force before not only the future of OSEN, but the entire future political, social and economic future of Pardes itself.

He was brought back from his trance by a quick, but strong knock on his door.

"Mister President, its Nathan, he wants to have quick conference call with you and the joint-chiefs."

Adrien stood, opening the sliding door, as a fairly well dressed man in a black suit and tie took a step back. It was Yves Boussard, the minister of defense who had been appointed by Adrien this year.

"Whats the occasion?" Adrien asked, unsure of what the overall situation was.

"Developments in Husseinarti. We are expecting an invasion of Terinyi within the next few days." His voice was serious, this would be his first serious military matter to deal with, and any wrong move could send it down as a massive failure of the Sieuxerrian government and a loss of tens of thousands of Sieuxerrian men's lives. However they would handle it much better than how the Central Defense Initiative, and mainly Eagleland, had performed in New Pontus just a year ago. They had to.

As the president and the minister walked into the conference room, were some other advisers of both military and civil matters had convened, the pilot came in over the PA system.

"We'll be touching down within the hour." The voice came radioed in. The pilot cut out and the conference call began to the prime minister and the joint-cheifs, who were most likely assembled much like Adrien was.

"Good morning Nathan, I see that we have some serious matters to discuss."

The plane would slowly begin its final decent as the conference began, coming into Dinsmar.

[Tule]

The king loved flying, for many different reasons. Some people found the fact that only a millimeter of aluminium separated them from the deadly and freezing cold stratosphere terrifying, but the king was fascinated by what that little bit of aluminium could do. Others found the limited space inside an aeroplane claustrophobic, but to king Kristián it reminded him of his small and secretive cabin in the remote mountains of southern Tule, which was snug and cozy. The roar of the engines filtered out unwanted distractions, Helping him relax and organize his thoughts, or simply let his mind wander. The view outside his window was often quite spectacular and as usual, this flight did not fail to deliver a beautiful view out his window. When his plane took off nine hours before at 8:20 in the evening it looked as if he wasn't the one leaving the city but as if the city was a brilliant carpet of light floating away into dark empty space.

Now it was 5:30 in the morning. As he was brushing his teeth he looked out the window once again to see pink clouds shining in the morning twilight over the still dark forests of Dniegua.
Although at 57 and starting to feel his age, this was not an entirely bad thing as it meant waking up earlier to see spectacular sights like the one outside his private bathroom window.
He savored the moment, for as much as he would have loved to watch the world below he had more important things to do.

King Kristián wasn't quite as busy as many heads of state in Pardes, but being one of the few executive monarchs still left in the world still meant that being the King of the State of Tule was no child's play.
He had legislation to sign (or veto if he was so inclined) and he had the power to introduce legislation, which he was regularly asked to do "anonymously" on behalf of a political party when there were concerns that partisan animosity would kill the legislation in parliament.
But his main responsibility was to be the eyes, ears and voice of the Tulese state during diplomatic missions such as this one.

A knock at the door.

"Come in!"

The door opened. It was Benedikt, his private secretary.

"Good morning Kristián, breakfast is ready for you"

"Thank you Benni, I'll be right there"

As with most of his closer assistants and guards, the King and Benedikt were on a first name basis. As private secretary however Benedikt was one of the few people in the world that had permission to knock on the King's door at this time of day.

"Once you've finished breakfast and reading the news I suggest we go over the details of your visit one more time."

"Sounds like a plan. When do we land?"

"In about 3 hours. So that should give us just enough time."

"Thanks Benni."

[Gratislavia]

Empire of Temuair
Executive Flight: Bedero to Dinsmark
On descent

Damjan Mihajlovic awoke abruptly as his face gently bumped into the glass window he had been leaning against, throwing him into a confused panic for a moment before he recalled where and more so, what he was. Not a day went by when his meteoric rise to power didn't strike him with amazement, and in truth, none of his staff or colleagues could blame him for it. Six months ago he had been at the front of the picket lines, megaphone in hand, arm and arm with thousands of others who had called out for Democracy. Now he led a nation, a nation of millions who had for the first time in their existence chosen their leader, their representative on the world stage. The early days of any administration were always marked with nervousness and uncertainty, but it was made markedly more painful simply because he was the first leader in an entirely new system of government. And worse still, he was now set to sit among the kings and autocrats, reminders of an era which had just passed. The task before him was massive, but in truth, Damjan had always loved a challenge, and even through his fear and uncertainty a calm veneer of confidence shone.

Below him, Dinsmar stretched out as a myriad collection of lights and towers, growing larger and larger as the plane steadily descended into the city. Around him, a team of advisers and diplomats worked tirelessly on all manner of subjects, finalizing what was to be the presentation of the "New Gratislavia" to the collection of OSEN leaders. In truth there was quite a bit to be presented, and this wasn't helped by the fervor of events that had gripped the world's conscious in the last few months, most notably the Bogorian conflict which seemed to hang about the air like a looming shadow in the government buildings of all nations. And then of course, there was the Rodarion deployment to the Saint Viktor islands, which had caused an uproar in Bedero and was viewed by many in Gratislavia as an act of Western aggression against the Skanderan people on a whole. It was an interesting time to be alive, and in power, to say the least.

Damnjan had just begun to comb over the fine details of his prepared dockets when the plane touched down with a gentle bump, much to the alarm of his staff whose frantic actions became even more frenzied. In an instant, the seat next to him was occupied by his most trusted confidant, Pedja Gavrilovic, a man who had been with him since the his early days of campaigning against the autocracy.

"You're ready then? The environment may be hostile you know, we're not exactly well regarded across the board, I've heard the Prestonians find us difficult." Pedja spoke with a frantic passion, not even pausing to breath as he continued. "Most of them are autocrats, so be sure not to bring up the Tsar or," he paused for the first time out of breath. "Or any of the past government's domestic policies, best to keep that off the table unless absolutely necessarily."

Damjan for his part, managed to remain calm, leaning over to grip his friend's arm as he spoke. "Don't worry so much Pedja, the Aisling Emperor is nearly as new to this as I am, and if they had outstanding problems with the transition they would have made it known. Our friends in Dniegua aren't subtle, and they didn't stream across the border to demand Stefanovic's return to power, so I think we got away with it." He broke off in a laugh, smiling widely. "A pair of thieves we are eh? Made off with the whole of the government and still haven't gotten caught."

Pedja tried to muster a smile, but it came across as a nervous grimace as he took up the conversation again. "Yes well, lets keep them from thinking we're going to make off with their pots alright? We may have stolen the reigns but now we've got to right the horse."

"Dear God man none of the pot stuff, I hear enough of that on those horrid comedy sketches they air here." Damjan buried his face in his hands, "Funny that a people can hold on to a prejudice for such a long time."

"Well, in any event, don't even pick up the cutlery. The Aislings will probably have you shot, or decapitated, or whatever it is they do here." Pedja did at last manage a smile, "We wouldn't want to start up another war just because you went and got yourself killed for being a thief now would we?"

Damnjan had readied a response, but just as he began to speak the plane finished docking at the terminal. "Well then, no more talk of pots or the Tsar, lets have at it."

[Anikatia]

​Dinsmar Airspace
Empire of Temuair

After several uneventful hours of smooth flying, the Anikatian delegation were ready to land. As the Ny-112NGV, a specially modified Nykov Ny-107NGX descended down towards Dismar International Airport. They were heading right into the heartland of Temuair. Once the great cold war enemy across the sea. Times had certainly changed.

Despite the humble goals of the summit in many ways a lot was riding on this meeting, a true test of the OSEN alliance. Any failures to come to any sort of meaningful outcomes might lead to the OSEN staying on the peripheral of the global arena. It was important for organisations to at least appear to be doing something useful. All the speculation by the media made it impossible for any meetings or summits not to be buildup.

President Sui Anyi was still only five months into office, it seemed only yesterday she took the oath. At 62 years old she was still very agile and in exceptionally good health. Anyi thanked this on her A'kyti genes, that still gave her a quite youthful and elegant appearance . She was the first female leader of Anikatia and the first socialist since the fall of the DSRA. It had not been easy to bring the socialist party back into power. Even now it was a delicate coalition with the liberals and democrats. Trying to handle the media cycle and political challenges of this new democracy was still a demanding task. Almost made her nostalgic for the return of the single party days of the DSRA. When the government controlled the media.

Sui would never forgive that traitor Liu Kasym for the great embarrassment he brought on Anikatia. Getting forced to accept PMF loans and have 'Free Pardes' dictate the terms of the economy was too much.

She was determined to chart a bright new course for Anikatia. Avoiding the errors of the DSRA and escaping the influence of the CDI or RCO. That is where the OSEN would come in, although it was her predecessor that signed up for the organisation. She was still rather skeptical of the idea. Sui wasn't sure if she could trust her former enemies or if they would even trust her. Anikatia was something of an outsider, just so different in culture and background. This meeting would be the true test of the partnership.

Byeon Na-eun the special aid to the President was doing some last minute review of documents for the summit. She was in her late 30s and had worked closely with President Sui since her initial campaigns. Byeon entered the meeting room, which was a hive of activity. Anyi along with the key staff were on a conference call discussing some last minute details before the arrival.

"Excuse me, madam." Byeon gestured as she entered the room with the papers.

President Sui acknowledged with a quick nod and then returned to the call.

"This is the last of it". Na-eun declared with a sigh of relief as she placed the documents on the desk in front the President. The last few days had been nonstop faxes and documents. Between the trade and sanctions against Ankar, the crisis in Bogoria and the peacekeeping mission in Terinyi. Along with all the usual list of terrorist attacks and political circus.

"So I understand the situation is under control?" The President asked.

"That is correct. The mission is in progress and has been fulfilling its objectives. The troops have been making good progress, most of the area has been secured." responded the voice from the phone.

"You'll keep me briefed?"

"Yes Ma'am"

"Thank you."

"Thank you. Madam President"

President Sui then hung up the phone and returned to the documents in front of her. Down the far side of the table Ryu Yu-mi the diligent Minister of Communications broke the silence, "Anything I should be aware of Madam President?"

"Nothing major just routine operations in Terinyi so far." Sui said in a somewhat distracted manner.

"The far more pressing issue is how we our going to cover the arrival."

“We still have the issue of Prestonian support for the operation.”

“Any progress on that front?”

“Well there PM Howe has made some statements in support of the idea but still no actual commitments. We believe he was unable to get enough support in time to assist with the invasion.”

“Well that’s going to look great before entering our summit. We can’t even join forces for a simple peacekeeping operation. Anything else I should know?” Sui stated in frustration.

"We should expect some concerned questions from OSEN members on the issue of our trade with the Ankaran Union. Also I take it many members were not pleased by the delivery of the Rodarion warships, especially after this news of Saint Viktor.” Reported Ryu. “Now I’d suggest taking a lighter approach with the Prestonians. We don’t want to alienate one of our closest allies in OSEN over a little operation in Ashizwe.” The Minister said. “Oh” she stopped to recollect herself . “There is one more thing Madam President, I would like you to reconsider the matter of the fencing."

"Now we have gone over this many times before-” Sui stopped. “It’s a matter of national pride and equality" Sui stressed. "I’m not going to let a bunch of Aristocratic old men. Just walk all over us because we're too concerned about safety to join their puerile little game." Sui declared defiantly. "Look..." Ryu started "I just don't think it is worth the risk." She paused for a moment trying to approach the issue as delicately as possbile. "From a media standpoint I just don't see any beneficial results. Think of the field day they might have if you got injured or... if you lost." Ryu cautioned. Special Government Agent Dae Kwang-gyoo joined the conversation. "We have some grave security concerns with this idea Madam President".

"Okay, okay" Sui said "lets defer this until after we land. Now was there anything else?"

"Now about your press releases, there are two issues. One is the OSEN summit with your initial speech. The other is the military peacekeeping operation in Terinyi. We can't say to much about Terinyi yet. Keep things focused on the summit." Ryu said handing the statements to the President.

"Hyeon-hee, stay in here, would you?" Sui asked.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Seop Hyeon-hee one of her most trusted advisers and a skilled translator, replied instinctively. Because although President Sui speaks six languages, Anikatian, English, French, Kyjianu, Romulan and Asturish. She would still require help against the vast array of languages among the OSEN group.

“Could you give me a quick rundown of the schedule again?”

“Ok, well we’ll land in a few moments. Then you’ll exit the aircraft. Walk straight out meeting the initial Anikatian embassy delegation from Temuair. They'll greet you and perhaps you could mention the state gifts. As they will be delivered via the embassy.”

“What about Avila?” Sui inquired.

“Yes, well you will then proceed into the terminal. Meeting Vitor Anton Avila before you both deliver a joint press conference. Where you can make your initial remarks. Then once you have finished the meeting with Avila. We will have the cars ready to take you to the hotel.” Seop explained.

Sui was a little concerned as there were few friendly faces among the leaders. "Ok, will there be a chance to meet any of the other leaders before the main event?” Sui asked. Eager to finally confront these new leaders or perhaps even find a friendly face. Before Seop could reply Sui said “Perhaps the Emperor will be joining us?”

“Err...which one would that be?” Seop struggled to reply as she dug through her dossiers trying to pick apart the myriad of monarchs.
“Emperor Francis?" Sui said realising her mistake. "I believe we met a his Christmas Ball last year.”

"Yes, Emperor Albert Francis and the Prestonian delegation should already be on the ground." Seop replied.

“He certainly more relaxed and straightforward than one would expect of a Emperor.” Sui mused for a moment. Having grown up with the strong ideals of equality. She didn't care much for the idea of royalty. Though Anyi did find a certain kinship with the Prestonians within the OSEN.
“Yes well unfortunately I’m not sure there will be time before we leave the terminal.” Seop stated sharply. “Although we do need to talk to the Prestonians about Terinyi as soon as possible.”

At that moment the soft pang of the seat belts sign lights up in the cabin. Breaking the quiet hum of the engines through the cabin. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking." The PA interrupted "We have begun our initial decent into Dismar. There may be some slight turbulence. If you look out the windows you will see the bright lights of the city Dismar.” said the pilot.

The captain switches his attention to the flight controls. Lowering the flaps and landing gear as the large aircraft rumbles into view of the control tower. He brings it in as gently as he can but the turbulence makes it difficult. Coming in for the landing with a violent thud the aircraft hits the runway. He glances to his co-pilot and they flip the engines to reverse thrust. In the shaking cabin, clenched fists, as the howl of the engines reversing their thrust. After taxing the airliner slows to a halt in the designated area. There is a sigh of relief by the delegation, thankful to be back on the ground once more.

Having completed the sweep of the area, special agent Dae gives the all clear to leave the aircraft. President Sui Anyi led the Anikatian delegation down the stairs from the front of the aircraft. Already waiting on the pavement was the President's armored limousine, a DHB Prymiak SL-G which had been flown in a few hours earlier by an Air Force Ny-114, and enough Aisling soldiers and police to discourage a regiment of terrorists.

[Temuair]

Dinsmar International Airport
Dinsmar, Temuair

Vitor Antón Avila smiled as the first of the arrivals strode into the terminal with the air of nobility only a state official can manage. Though aides stood by to assist should he require it, Avila doubted he would have any trouble recognizing the various leaders arriving in his fair nation, and so far, he was correct. As he smiled a greeting towards the Emperor of Prestonia, a flicker of movement outside the window to his left caught his attention, a vehicle arriving at the terminal entrance; more than likely the limousine sent by the Anikatian embassy for President Sui Anyi. The terminal closed for receiving the leaders did not have enough jet ways to handle all of the arriving aircraft at once; a situation not noticed until it was too late to change, and something that would surely need to be rectified.

“Greetings to you, Emperor Albert Francis, and to those who attend you! Welcome to Dinsmar, and welcome to Temuair!” he said, a bright smile affixed to his face. He reflected briefly that it was nice, for once, to not have to force the joviality into his voice. “I trust the flight was fine?”

“Yes, of course. Its a beautiful country.” Emperor Albert Francis replied

“Thank you, and I do extend you my apologizes in the delay of your landing. The air boss in the tower tells me that an airliner declared an emergency and had to make a priority landing; nothing serious, by all accounts, but it necessitated rerouting the arriving traffic.”

Emperor Albert Francis smiled understandingly, casting a subtle glance towards one of his attendants, “As I commented on the plane, no alliance to date has been lost due to a single late plane.”

“Of course, sir. I thank you. I'm looking forward to speaking with you later this evening. For the moment, please help yourself to refreshments. There will be a brief press conference and photo op, and then we'll get you over to the Gran Lux and settled in.” Avila replied and, with a nod, disengaged from the conversation smoothly with a smile and nod to both the Emperor of Prestonia and his associates, and moving away.

The man emerging from the next jet way drew the eye of everyone in the room and Avila, who had been prepared for it, was still shocked at the pure...flamboyance of his outfit. The riot of colors and lines, never mind the egregious amount beads, ribbons and charms adorning his chest, were almost too much to handle. Avila approached him, smiling and, speaking quietly, and remarked while extending his hand, “You look like a complete ass, Folke.”

“I'm aware Vitor. You do not need to remind me. If you do it again, I might show you the only manly part of this costume.”

“No need, my friend, no need. Welcome back to Dinsmar, it's been too long.”

“It was, and I'm looking forward to his, and winning that fencing competition, of course.”

Avila's smile broadened “We shall see, my friend. In the mean time, go have a drink, you'll feel better.”

As the Hetman of Dniegua moved off towards the bar, the sound of footfalls on the third jetway drew Avila's attention. He moved to greeting the next arrival and smiled when he say the wizened man and his escorts making their way up the hallway.

“It is so very good to see you, Roland the Third!” Avila exclaimed. “I remember meeting you in the summer of 1991, shortly after you took your oath, at a function in Eisenburg. I was a Coronel then, just having transferred to take command of the Aguia.

The elderly man before him returned the smile and nodded “I remember, as well as I remember your father, and fondly. He was proud of you, and would be proud of you still.”

“Thank you sir, he always spoke highly of you. Would you care for refreshment? To relax a little? There are some minor, but required, media events in about 30 minutes or so.”

“I slept on the flight, and I am used to dealing with matters of media relations, as you know. I am quite fine.” Roland III replied, with maybe a touch of exasperation in his voice, Avila wasn't sure. Surely being the longest reigning leader of those gathered her, Roland III had mastered the art of hiding his feelings from his voice and face whenever he desired.

“As you wish, sir. I will speak with you again tonight.” Avila said, shaking the man's hand again before departing. The other leaders had moved deeper into the terminal where the temporary bar and refreshments had been set up, clearing the way for the next arrivals.

The next to arrive, Avila saw, was Adrien Auriol of Sieuxerr. Avila new his was one of the other seasoned politicians attending the conference, whereas himself, Hetman Venevitinov, and the Gratislavian President Mihajlovic were all relatively new in the halls of power. Avila was also not as familiar wth the President of Sieuxerr as he'd prefer to be. He approached and smiled as the man and his escorts entered the terminal

“Salutations Monsieur le Président et Bienvenue à Temuair.” he called, smiling. French was no foreign language to him. A serving officer, let alone a world leader, did well to learn the language of his allies early in his career.

President Auriol smiled at the greeting “Thank you, Emperador. I'm glad to be here.”

“With so many other things going on in the world, I'm glad you found time to join us.” Avila replied, leading the man towards the refreshment bar

“Of course, Sieuxerr stands four square behind her Skanderian neighbors, and OSEN as well.”

“I never doubted.” Avila smiled “If you'd care for refreshment, there will be a media event in a short while, and we'll all speak again tonight.” With a final nod, Avila disconnected from the group of Sieuxerrians and moved to the next jetway. Arriving next, he saw, was the Tulese King, Kristan.

“Welcome to Temuair, majesty.” he said, giving the regent his due before shaking his hand. “I'm very pleased to see you here in Dinslar.”

“Thank you for welcoming me.” Kristan replied, “Yours is a beautiful nation, and I am certainly happy to be here.”

“Thank you sir, and I do look forward to seeing you again this evening at the dinner. In the meantime, please help yourself to refreshment at the bar, and we'll give the public the pictures it desires shortly.”

Next to arrive was President Damjan Mihajlovic of Gratisalvia. New to power and high office, newer than even Avila himself, his arrival was something that Avila had been anticipating for some time. Aislings and Gratisalvians had a long history, mostly centered on killing one another. It was only in modern times that Temuair and Gratisalvia had found common purpose and cause, and while relations were, indeed, at an all time high, Gratisalvia was outspokenly anti-Western, something Aislings found annoying and inconvenient at best, and infuriatingly frustrating at worst, especially when t interfered with advancing Aisling causes. Mihajlovic was an unknown, the leader of a brand new government, and Avila had hopes, albeit slim ones, that he might be less nationalistic than his predecessors were.

“Greetings, Mister President Mihajlovic, and I suppose congratulations on your elections are also in order. Welcome to Dinsmar.”

“Thank you for hosting us, Emperador Avila, I am certainly happy to be here. We have peacefully coexisted for some time, and with luck, will shall do so forever more.” Mihajlovic replied, grasping Avila's hand firmly.

“I could not agree with that more, sir.” Avila replied, directing the man towards the refreshments. “If you'd be so kind, we'll be hosting a press conference here shortly, but in the mean time, please enjoy Aisling hospitality.”

Lastly, the exterior doors opened and a group strode in. Avila rushed over to meet them, smiling. He approached President Anyi, grasping her hand lightly before bringing up up to his lips and placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, President Anyi. It is truly my pleasure to greet in peace the leader of a nation when once there was little peace between us. If such things are possible, then truly nothing can stop OSEN from becoming a strong and independent power in Pardes.

President Anyi smiled and laughed lightly “You're too kind, Emperador, and I thank you for your courteous greeting.”

“My pleasure. If you'll follow me, I think its about time to begin.”

Avila strode to the small stage that had been erected on the far side of the terminal. “Will you all please join me here for a moment?” he asked, speaking into the microphone. As the leaders made their way towards the stage; Folke draining his glass dry before leaving the bar, the press personal in attendance took up there places at the front of the stage. When all was in order, Avila continued “There will be no questions at this time, I'm sure you understand, just as I'm sure our guests are weary after their flights. I'd simply like to, formally and officially, welcome the all to Temuair in he name of cooperation and in the spirit of friendship. Through our unity, trust and cooperation, our nations, and the Organization of South Eastern Nations, can only flourish.”

Applause and flashes from cameras greeted these remarks, and continued for thirty seconds or more before the press officers and Marshals service agents began to disperse the crowd. Avila turned to the assembled leaders “Well then, now that that’s over with, what do you say we get you to your lodgings? I believe everyone’s vehicles have arrived, and its only a short trip to the Gran Luxo. I really do look forward to seeing you all again this evening.”

[Central Prestonia]

Despite the delay, the Emperor was still one of the first to reach the reception area. Exchanging pleasantries with the Aisling Emperor, he and his attendant retired to the well-stocked bar a few feet away. Normally, he wouldn't indulge; the conservative tabloids would have a field day at the thought of their Emperor drinking in an airport terminal bar like a commoner. Thankfully, the tabloids were never in a thousand years going to get press pool privileges for an event such as this, and the terminal was closed for the special event. The Emperor sipped a gin and tonic as he watched his counterparts make their entries.

The Hetman was unmistakable in his national costume, and Kazuhito was for a moment immensely thankful that the Imperial Household Agency had long-since stopped insisting he and his predecessors appear in such garb at international functions. The fine silks and well-sculpted hairpieces of centuries past may once have conveyed grace, power, and authority, but in today's Western fashion they were only likely to be seen as effeminate. That certainly wouldn't do. Exchanging his pleasantries, the Hetman came over to the bar and took a seat a few places down from the Emperor, nodding knowingly at the drink in his hand. Kazuhito nodded in acknowledgement of his new guest before speaking.

"I see great minds think alike, as always," he said, raising his glass. "Here's to a productive summit, and an honorable contest," the Emperor continued, as his eyes flashed toward the ornamental sword at the Hetman's hip. "Though I daresay we all know who the early favorite is." The Hetman flashed a quick smile, raising his glass in acknowledgement before drinking deeply. Here, the Emperor took another sip of his drink, and returned to his people-watching.

The elderly visage of Roland III of Austrasia was the next to arrive; the eldest of the group by far, Kazuhito could tell he was doing his best to hide the slings and arrows of age as he conversed with Avila. There would be matters to discuss with the Emperor of Austrasia (an elected man, if he recalled his dossier correctly), when the time was right; the disagreement on Bogoria a few months back, to name just one. It was a trifling thing, in the end, but an understanding had to be established at some point and there was little better place to do so than here, among allies and friends.

Next came President Auriol of Sieuxerr, a man with whom the Emperor was admittedly not as well acquainted as he might like to be. The man initially struck the Emperor as a bit haughty, perhaps a bit too serious, but this was the nature of the Sieuxerrian and so he could not fault Auriol. In any event, first impressions were rarely the best, more-so when said impression was made before actually speaking to the man; time would reveal the measure of this Sieuxerrian. So it went also with Damjan Mihajlovic, though here there was a bit of a deeper prejudice. Albert Francis had always regarded the Tsar of the Gratislavs highly; Javor VII had been at his New Year's Ball, and they had spoken at length about the future of the Presto-Gratislavian friendship and things to come. Now, all that was seemingly swept to history, his old friend reduced to a commoner and this interloper in his place. Kazuhito, of all people, had no quarrel with democracy, by any means, but all the same the thing left a bad taste in his mouth.

Of Kristian, King of the Tulese, the Emperor had no specific thoughts one way or the other, having never met the man nor his counsel. At any rate, the man seemed of a similar vein to himself; dignified, yet not stuffily formal. Even as a constitutional monarch, the Emperor realised the value of his own rapport to the foreign policy of his government, and here he made a mental note to have a word with King Kristian about the state of affairs in his Kingdom.

Last, and of most importance for the Emperor, came President Sui Anyi of Anikatia. Sui was at the Christmas Ball, and had spoken at length with his Premier and briefly with himself. It seemed almost an eternity ago. The President would be sure to take the Emperor to task on support--or lack thereof--for affairs in Terinyi, a line of conversation he was slightly annoyed at having to pursue. He wanted to blame Haru, his Prime Minister, for that, but in reality he was as much to blame; assuming one knows the course of politics before they play out never ends well. He had a list of items to go over with his Anikatian counterpart in the summit to come; with luck, he could bring the fait accompli back to Hudson and compel Howe and the coalition to go along. He had evidently caught Sui's eye from the initial greeting, as she began to make her way toward the bar.

Sui had always struck the Emperor in a certain light; politically Socialist, she was a middling bureaucrat when the Democratic Socialist Republic of Anikatia folded to the tides of democratization in 2001. In present circumstance, it was difficult to imagine the organ of single-party oppression coming back to power through the democratic process. Yet under Sui, the Socialist Party had returned to power with aplomb, proving it seemed that socialism and democracy were not incompatible after all. Sui, for her own part, seemed to have none of the DSRA-era hardness; the stone-etched face and wooden language of days past had been replaced by a warm smile and frank talk rather novel for Anikatian governments of days past. Perhaps that had helped her party's cause.

"Madam President," the Emperor said cheerfully. "A pleasure to see you this fine evening. It has been far too long since we last met, to be sure," he continued. "I trust your flight was agreeable?"

"Quite," Sui replied warmly. "It has indeed been too long. I trust Her Majesty the Empress is well, then? And your son, the Crown Prince? Such a charming young man, at his age. We have much to discuss tonight, I think."

"Indeed we do, Madam President, but for now let us toast our friends and our friendship."

A few minutes later, an Aisling staffer arrived, shuffling the heads of state into a press room where they posed for the obligatory front-page photo. To the world, it was perfection: a smiling, cohesive unit of disparate nations united for common cause. At Kazuhito's first OSEN Summit, he was eager to see how true the facade really was.

[Temuair]

Gran Luxo Hotel
Dinsmar, AS
Temuair

The Imperial government maintained a fairly large and spacious suite on the top floor of the Gran Luxo hotel. Generally, it was utilized by foreign dignitaries or anyone else coming to visit the Emperador on official business. Sometimes, if a subject or citizen had an appointment to see the ruler of Temuair, be it by application or summons, he might be longed in the Imperial Suite at the Gran Luxo.

Avila had installed himself in the suite for a variety of reasons. One, since there were many heads of state visiting, choosing which one of them received the suite would be difficult, and no matter how the choice was made, those not selected could take offense. Better to just install each of them in the nearly identical suites on the upper floors of the hotel. Expediency also played a role in his decision to take up residency in the hotel for the weekend, as opposed to returning to the palace. Not only did it allow him to be closer to the festivities, it also made him more accessible to his guests.

Avila adjusted the collar of his suit jacket until it was perfectly straight, and brushed some nearly imperceptible lint from his shoulder. He picked a small round decoration up from the dresser, during the black, gold and red pin over in his hand, the light playing off its gleaming surface. The Term of Service pin was awarded to anyone who completed a term of service in the Imperial Military, and citizens were encouraged to wear them, especially in formal occasions. Avila would have worn his Imperial Navy uniform, as he knew Folke would be in his, but decided against it. While it was within his right, as the nations chief Executive to wear military garb, that was no longer his life, and it felt somehow wrong to pretend otherwise. Unless going to a reunion for the crews of the Torita or the Augia, it would be more akin to wearing a costumer, and Avila was no pretender.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Come in.” he called, turning to regard his visitor. “Ah, hello Vitor, is there a problem?”

“No, Excellency.” Vitor Lista replied, bowing at the waist slightly, “I simply wanted to come by and see if you required any assistance.”

Avila suppressed a sigh. Vitor Lista was head Head Burgess, analogous to any nations Prime Minister, though with less executive power on the whole, and as such headed up the Imperial Party of Temuair, the largest party and the majority in the Chamber of Burgesses. The man was, however, a sycophant, a trait which had assuredly helped elevate him to his present position, but grated Avila no end. He truly hoped that no one would ever nominate this name to take the office of Emperador; Avila knew for certain that his nomination upon assuming office had not been Lista.

“No, but thank you Mister Lista. Our guests were shuttled here without any issues, and as far as I know, have found their suites without difficulty. Meeting them all was interesting, and Hetman Folke looks absolutely hilarious, you'll see it on the news. It was nice to see Emperor Roland again, as well. My father spoke well of him.” Avila answered as evenly as he could. The last bit, mentioning his father, had been a jibe to sting Lista, as it was well known, prior to Avila VI's death, that Lista believed he had the nomination for Emperador clenched.

If Lista was stung by the barb, he did not let it show. “What of the new combers, Emperor Kazuhito, President Anyi?

“Well, we only spoke for a few moments, but, they seem genuinely interested in being here. Theres some byplay between the Prestonian Emperor and President Anyi, though I imagine its related to their impending deployments to Terinyi. President Mihajlovic seemed ill at ease, though who can blame him, he's barely been in office a month! I never thought I'd be meeting a world leader newer at this than myself.” Avila smiled, “You seem tired, Vitor, why don't you go home to your family?”

“I will sir, as soon as I'm sure my duty is done.” Lista replied “Are you sure you would not like me to remain for dinner. Handling seven heads of state at one dinner paty could be tricky, and it will certainly be tiresome.”

And let you have a moment alone with any one of them? You'd bore them to death and quite possibly run them out of the alliance! Avila did briefly entertain the idea of sending him to confer with Folke, and a mental image of Folke drawing his sword and skewering the man nearly caused him to burst out laughing. Instead, he replied “I'll be fine. I'm sure that the many hours I've spent learning from your vast political experience will serve me well tonight. Go home, Vitor.”

“As you wish, Exellency.” Vitor replied, dismay showing on his face. Bowing slightly again, he began to leave, but abruptly stopped again “If you need anything, do not hesitate to call...”

Avlia strode forward, placing a hand on the mans shoulder and gently pushing him towards the door, manoeuvrings him into the suites common room. “I will, Vitor, certainly, but you must go. I need to finish getting ready.” he said, louder than necessary.

The suites outer door opened and Liam stepped inside “Burgess Lista? Are you ready to depart. I would gladly provide an escort to your vehicle.” Though phrased politely, everyone in the room understood it was not a request.

“Er, yes, thank you Marshal.” Lista said, allowing the Marshal to lead him out of the suite. Avila strode into the kitchen and poured himself a small amount of whiskey into a glass, draining it in a gulp before purring a second glass, and sipping it. After a few moments, Liam returned, smiling. “The Had Burgess has been safely removed form the premises.”

“Glioca's have mercy on me, but that man drives me nuts.” Avila said, placing his glass on a table. “How do I look.”

“Where is your gun?” Liam asked after looking over Avila's suit

“You know I don't carry a gun. What in the Dubhaimid would I need one for?”

“You should. You never know.”

“Guns are your job Liam, not mine. Not anymore. These are our allies, and our guests.” Avila replied.

“Then, sir, you look fine. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Avila replied, striding towards the door. “But you are not to skulk about the dinning hall. We don't need obvious security making our guests nervous. They'll think were no better than Bogoria.”

“Fine, sir, I'll go to the security office and relieve the deputy in charge there.” Lian replied as the two stepped onto the elevator.

“Why don't you go home?” Avila asked as he keyed for the first floor

“Because you're here.” Liam replied deadpan

“You're impossible.” Avila groaned as the high sped elevator began its decent.

Equally deadpan, Liam agreed “Yes sir.”

---

Having shed himself of his escort, Avila strode into the banquet hall. A fearless maître d' , followed by one of the endless lackeys from the Imperial Foreign Ministry, greeted him “Greetings, Excellency!” They both said, bowing at the waist.

“At ease, the both of you. Please.” Avila said, smiling. “What do you need of me?”

“Sir.” the lackey said “I request you reconsider your decision to forgo assigning seating to your guests. There's still time.”

“No.” Avila said flatly

“Sir, its most irregular-” the lackey replied

“I am aware. However, my decision is made.”

The banquet hall, which would usually have several dozen round tables able to accommodate 7 or 8 people, and been cleared out, with only a single large table in the middle. Avila had wanted no one seated in a position of prominence, lest the others be offended for being relegated to what might been seen as a lower status seat; hence the round table. He wanted to see where they chose to sat, however. Allowing them to form their own cliques would provide insight into the mindset of his guests, as well as clue him in to the relationships that may exist between the various leaders.

The lackey, defeated, withdrew from the conference. Turning to the maître d' , he asked. “What of the food preparations?”

“Sir, I believe you will be please.” he said, leading Avila towards the bustling kitchen. The aroma wafting through the door as the men entered made Avila's mouth water. “We have prepared a four course meal of traditional Aisling foodstuffs,, consisting of an appetizer, we have shrimp cocktail for this course. The second course of soup or salad comes net, Soup is chicken soup with dumplings, vegetables, whereas the salad is simple greens. Main course will be a meat option; lobster, steak- I have both filets and prime rib available, or spicy assuage. Dessert is apple charlotte, lemon custard, or cold rice pudding.”

The man directed Avila's attention to the head cook. “This is Lino, and he directed the meal preparations this evening. However should one of the guests find the food not to their liking, he guarantees he can create a dish to this satisfaction. Our kitchen is stocked and we can meet any request.”

“Do we have a vegetarian option?” Avila asked.

Lino answered “We do, Excellency. Four course vegetarian meal is an appetizer cheese plate, soup is bell pepper soup and the salad is bean salad with walnuts and feta, with the main course being either fresh pasta with potato leek gratin grilled vegetables with stuffed round zucchini. Dessert is berry cobbler, lemon mousse or orange sorbet.”

“Well, then lets just hope we don't have a vegan guest.” Avila said, smiling. “Good work, Chef de cuisine.”

Lino smiled at the use of his title “If we do, rest assured, we will accommodate them. I ordered non-standard foodstuffs, something from every nation we knew was attending, and can prepare a fest from it within an hours time. We will not disappoint you or your guests, sir.”

Avila smiled at both men. “I am sure of it. Have a waiter bring me water and a whiskey sour at the table, its time to prepare to greet our guests.” Avila strode out of the kitchen and seated himself at the table, ensuing he was facing towards the entrance and awaited the arrival of his fellow leaders to the fest.

[Central Prestonia]

The Emperor's room was well-appointed, and for a moment reminded him almost of his bedchambers at home, albeit much smaller. Even the decor had been arranged in a distinctly Eastern motif, a custom touch which made him chuckle pleasantly. Vitor Anton Avila certainly knew how to make his guests feel welcome. His attendant had gotten there first, and all was in order; a shower had been drawn, and a tuxedo had been laid out to perfection already. Stepping out from the suit he had worn on the flight over, the Emperor stepped into the shower, washing up before his big moment. He was not nervous--an Emperor did not get nervous--but he felt a strange sense of gravity descend upon him in the moment. A state visit, that was one thing; a summit, a group of world leaders coming together for a joint purpose was another level entirely. These were the moments that strengthened or weakened alliances, forged or broke friendships, shaped the opinion of the world. It could not be afford to be taken lightly.

His shower complete, the Emperor redressed in underclothes and wrapped a towel around himself. A manservant, one of his chamberlains from the Palace, stood by to dress and fix him for his appearance; tonight, he would appear in a tuxedo made and tailored by his own court tailor, luxuriously finished and accented by the traditional black tie. Upon the breast stood the star of the Order of the Clover; its sash fell across his shoulder, cutting a diagonal band of deep scarlet across the white starched undershirt, its sleeves held together with cuff links bearing the Imperial Clover. He looked every bit the dignified world leader he was born to be. The dress may have changed, but now, as ever, there stood the man with the soul and dignity of a god. That he was a mere man, in fact if not religion, mattered little in the present circumstance; gazing upon the man now, one could easily see how prior iterations of his line had been regarded as gods among mere mortals: he practically radiated charisma.

Having been dressed and outfitted to his satisfaction, his manservant departed to his own quarters with a stiff, deep bow, being replaced in a matter of minutes by the sharp visage of his secretary. Ishihara-san bowed before her Emperor, as was custom, but all else signified she was there to do what she did best: dictate and organize.

"Your Majesty, dinner begins in twenty minutes," she began, reading off a clipboard she had brought with her. "The state gifts, waka written by yourself to each of the attendant nations, have been delivered along with their translations. Your menu choices for tonight have been entered to the chef: an appetizer of shrimp cocktail, followed by traditional Aisling-style chicken and dumpling soup, lobster for main course, and rice pudding as a dessert. Is this acceptable?"

"That will do nicely, yes," Kazuhito responded. "I've also brought along some sake from my stores, which I'd like shared with my honored friends. Take this to the bar staff and instruct them in its proper presentation and serving," he continued, withdrawing an ornate bottle from his briefcase and handing it to his aide with an exchange of bows. "Anything else I should know?"

"His Majesty the Emperor Avila has arranged that you be seated at a circular table, rather than the traditional setting," Ishihara continued, her voice showing a slight hint of exasperation at this. "This is apparently a matter of Aisling tradition when entertaining guests one regards as equals. This said, you ought to find a seat close to Emperor Avila, though being seated near President Sui will no doubt give you an opportunity for some discussions we've outlined earlier."

"I shall manage," the Emperor responded. "And now, I do believe it is time I be off."

The halls were empty as Kazuhito made his way to the elevator which would take him to the ground floor; the entire hotel had been booked for this event, and the staff instructed to make themselves scarce. Finally, he reached the ballroom where dinner would be served; an orchestra was setting up in the corner, to provide dinner entertainment. With nobody else yet present, he waited in the wings; surely, a means of formal introduction was to precede dinner itself. In a few short minutes, the games would begin.

[Dniegua]

Photos were never Folkes favorite things, certainly not as they were just taken. While the traditional clothing of the Hetman were, in a word, ornate, they were far from flattering. The gaudy, bright colors, the gems and rhinestones embedded in the fine silk sewing, the flowing garment...none of them were particularly modern. He would likely be mocked by his colleagues, playfully of course, as having looked like a clown. Foreign medias might not be so nice, likely referring to him as a walking light show or something similar. All things considered, he preferred a nice suit and tie.

But his uniform would do as well.

The Dnieguan Naval Infantry uniform was an excellent representation of the heritage of the country itself. A crisp uniform with a well-tailored coat, accents of a deep crimson nature adorned the golden epaulets, which were emblazoned with black symbols of rank. The buttons were golden, and each was carved with the naval infantry official shield. His rank, Major, had adorned him with a campaign ribbon, which he wore proudly above his right breast. The rows of service awards, badges, and a military cap all tied the outfit together. As formal as it was, it was somehow comforting.

Alone in his room, Folke admired the uniform in his mirror. The silence was nice for a moment. It allowed him a moment to think. The past few months had been nothing but a whirlwind of meetings, speeches and gatherings. Here, in an empty hotel in the Empire of Temuair, he could enjoy the silence. Cleared from all but the service staff-and, presumably, many of them were not even allowed near the hotel. Entire floors were dedicated to housing the leaders and their associates. The silence was relaxing to some, but defining to most.

He paused a moment to enjoy being able to hear himself think, before looking back into the mirror. Despite a full length mirror, it was unable to actually present his full image. Standing at just over two meters tall, everything below his chin was visible. He paused to admire his uniform, which he had had for so long, and got to wear so little.

Though no longer a soldier, Folke remembered the days of his service very well, still fresh in his relatively young mind. He had always considered them the best days of his life. As Hetman, now, he hopped he could do as much good for his country as he had as a soldier.

He exited from his quarters, and into a crowded waiting area.

The silence was nice as it lasted.

As it was on the airplane, it was in the room, too. His assistants and staff answered phones constantly, jabbered back and forth into receivers. They looked at documents, trusted papers in each others faces, and typed away furiously on phones. Folke himself was surrounded by these people at least twelve hours a day, all of whom seemed to go everywhere with him. His security agents stood at attention, the only ones to do so immediately upon his entering. The rest of his staff continued on, momentarily at least, with their present activities. After a moment, most had glanced up. The room grew quiet as the staff seized conversing.

Folkes presence was formidable. He was the sort of person who filled the room before his physical presence was even a factor. One it had become one, it became clear why. He held his head high, and he stood tall and broad. His voice was deep, booming and commanding. He spoke from within his chest, and his sentences flowed like water from a creak. Never one to suffer from speech disfluency, many found themselves unable to not hang on his every word. Despite this, though, it was remembered that Folke was, indeed, at least eight years junior to every member of his cabinet staff.

“My Shashka, Torvald.”
The young man stepped forward with a wooden case, which he opened, before presenting its contents to the young Hetman.

A sabre, crafted of the strongest steels Dnieguan forges could muster, designed and built for the Hetman, as it had been for nearly Eight Hundred years.
The Shashka at his hip, made to commemorate his ascension to his throne, sat held in in a scabbard draped in onyx leather, with silver accents at the tip. The pommel had a red gemstone seated firmly within it, which complimented his uniform well. Most felt the sabre had actually been made to compliment his uniform more than the traditional wear, as was custom. But it was no doubt: it was a glorious blade, indeed.

Fixed to his hip, he nodded, appearance complete.

“Shall we, then?”

---

The dining hall was nothing short of grand. It reminded Folke very much of a palace of old, one that he might have seen in a photo album or gallery commemorating his lineages rule. Decorated with ornate woods and masonry of master quality, the traditional dining table had been removed and, in its place, a masterfully set round dining table was present.

“Smart man, that Avila.”

“Sir?”

“He has the tables arranged so that no individual is at a position of prominence. A smart man, indeed. Excellent political play.”

“Im not one much for politics, sir.”

Folke chuckled as he entered the hall further. A short, squirrely man approached him.

“Greeting Hetman Fol…”

“Thank you, but I cant talk, im busy.” His reply was quick and stern. The small man retreated quite quickly.

Folke glanced back at his security guards.

“You may leave, gentlemen, if your assessment of security is satisfactory. I feel no one poses a threat here.

His guards glanced around for a moment before nodding. They departed rank and file, after shaking the Hetmans hand.

He walked around the hall more, admiring its construction. Parts of him wanted to take some photos and post them to some social media sight, but he resisted. He had to act like a leader, not just another person in the modern world. As he walked around, he observed others within the hall conversing with one another. With a smile on his face, he approached Emperador Avila.

“Lovely room you have here, Avie.”

“Thanks, its nice to see that the Ents had finally selected an ambassador.”

“Whens the food coming out? I’m starving.”

“Of course you are, you infinite pit.”

“Hst'kurr would be envious.”

“Of course he would. Please, take a seat.”

“As far away from you I hope?”

The two smiled at one another for a brief moment before moving to another group.

[Gratislavia]

Gran Luxo Hotel
Dinsmar, AS
Temuair

Damjan had never been one to bask or really even accept the finer things afforded to him by his station. Upon his assumption of the Presidency, he had taken great steps to reduce the grandeur and splendor of the Presidential Palace, going so far as to reduce the staff considerably, much to the ire of many of his compatriots who also occupied the building. He wore no great ceremonial dress like his counterparts in Prestonia or Dniegua, and unlike those from most other OSEN nations, he had no prior military service under his belt. He was a simple man, and in truth, this was one of the many reasons the people of Gratislavia were infatuated with him.

Even still though, he did have to admit a certain admiration at the lengths the Aislings had taken to provide luxurious accommodation for the various foreign delegations. The suites dedicated to Damjan and his half dozen staff were immense in size, and in truth, they probably could have comfortably accommodated several dozen persons. The walls were decorated with an assortment of frescos depicting a variety of what were presumably monumental events in Aisling history. Most of the suites also sported crystal chandeliers, casting sparking rays across the rooms that seemed to dance on the various shining surfaces. The curtains were most certainly satin or silk, the counter tops were a deep black marble, and the floors alternated between rosewood, and a soft creamy colored carpet. It was extravagant, no, it was monarchial in fact. And most of all, it made Damjan incredibly uncomfortable, even if he was appreciative of it all.

“Do you really think all of this is necessary Pedja, don’t you think this is a little too high key?” Damjan fidgeted with his tie, his plain black suit seeming especially diminutive as he recalled the Dnieguan leader’s attire. “Couldn’t they have set us up in the embassy, or at least in a simpler room?”

“Not at all your majesty,” Pedja took a long deep bow as he spoke, a giddy smile illuminating the normally sour looking Gratislav’s face. “Only the finest drink, food, and accommodations for his Royal Majesty Miljahovic the First.”

“You’re funny, you know that?” Damjan shoved the man down mid-bow as he spoke, a similar smile creeping onto his almost youthful face as he watched Pedja careen across the wood floor. “Keep that up and maybe I’ll make you the royal jester.”

Pedja managed to shuffle to his feet, snorting at Damjan’s last sentence. “Yes well, maybe they’ll make you the royal ap-“

“Both of you, cut the shit, right now!” The door seemed to slam in unison with the bellow that erupted from it, both men immediately silencing themselves. “If the Aislings don’t gut you for acting like fools, I’ll have you hanged in Bedero for disgracing your offices!”

Damjan and Pedja turned in unison, each looking down with a flush of amused embarrassment brightly coloring their cheeks as the figure who was shouting at them came into full view.

Standing at a mighty five foot five inches tall and weighing in at a hefty one hundred and forty pounds, the old man in front of them was truly an imposing figure. He was dressed in a bluish-black uniform, decorated with a variety of medals and ribbons that told of decades of military service. His face was worn, old, almost sunken in appearance, while his eyes gleamed with a fiery blackness that seemed to scream “Dangerous!” Atop his head, a cap that titled in from both sides at a gradual angle and bore the quadruple “C”s of Gratislavia, topped the whole thing off. “You should both be ashamed of yourselves, this is a goddamn meeting of our closest allies, and here you are acting like a pair of jackasses!”

“Of course Marshall Zoric, my sincerest apologies.” For the first time, Damjan’s voice came across serious, a tone of sincere embarrassment just barely undercutting it. “Are the rest of the guests assembled?”

“Mostly, the Dnieguan has already came down, and the Prestonian as well. They both look pompous and stupid as usual, but what do you expect from a bunch of politicians and children dressed up as soldiers?” Zoric’s voice was gruff, and cracked with age and what was probably the effect brought on by too many cigarettes in his time. “The important question is, are you too morons ready, you remember how to act, or do I need to get a wet-nurse to coach you through this?”

“We are Marshall, are you?” Damjan issued the challenge quietly, real concern coming through his voice as the weight of the coming events plagued his mind.

“Me?” Zoric laughed, “I’m not going. The Aislings are taking me on a little tour around the guns, you won’t be seeing me until we get down to the real business, so you idiots better keep your goddamn heads on straight before you lose em.”

Pedja and Damjan both instantly formed a petrified question upon their lips, and both likewise, managed to stifle it.

“Of course Marshall, we are ready, we can handle this.” Damjan managed to squeak out a reply, the very opposite of readiness leaking through obviously.

“Good,” Zoric smiled, “I’m sure you’ll all be just fine my friends, just fine.” He patted the pair on the shoulder, then turned crisply on his heels. “Now get your asses down there, right this minute!”

---

The circular, imposing table that dominated the center of the dining room seemed to stand like a gallow to Damjan as he and Pedja entered the room. The pair were undressed, or at least it appeared so to Damjan as he caught a look at the Dnieguan Hetman out of the corner of his eye. Their suites seemed boorishly out of place, when compared to the massive man’s military uniform. “Let’s just keep our heads here Pedja, play it cool, remember to be civil, and the lot of it.”

“You don’t have to tell me sir, I’m ready for this if you are.” Pedja whispered back, just barely leaning towards Damjan as he spoke.

“Greetings President Damjan and attendee, it is our greatest honor and pleasure to welcome you here.” The concierge that stood by the door broke their private conversation, his voice booming out to announce their arrival.

“Thank you very much sir, the pleasure is all ours.” Damjan forced a smile at the man, extending his hand out to him.

“Uh, thank you Sir.” The concierge reached out and took Damjan’s hand, a look of bewilderment crossing his face as he lightly grasped and shook it.

“Come along sir,” Pedja managed to direct Damjan away from the still confused concierge, guiding him towards the Hetman and the Aisling emperor who were conversing. “Steady now, here we go…”

[Anikatia]

​Gran Luxo Hotel
Dinsmar, Astrid
Empire of Temuair

Growing up under the austere regime of the DSRA, Sui Anyi was still somewhat unaccustomed to lavish and extravagant hotels. Her room was western style although it was clear there had been efforts to provide a more Eastern feel for the visit. Yet, some of the elements struck Sui as more Prestonian than Anikatian. But the attempt itself was kind gesture that showed how much effort the Aislings had gone to in making everyone feel at home.

She wondered what to wear for the formal dinner tonight. As in the male-dominated world of politics women leaders had an extra task of finding the right clothes for the job. For men, the suit has become the accepted 'uniform' and that comes with a set of specific sartorial rules and guidelines. But for women there were no accepted 'uniforms' for a formal setting. As a result Sui always had to pay more attention to fashion than she would of cared too. That is why she had such skilled personal assistants.

The issue tonight was a tricky one. She had arrived in a simple yet elegant and authoritative suit. Consisting of a light cream three button blazer jacket with slim modern peaked lapel and subtle floral pattern over a white blouse. Matched with a pair of well tailored cadet grey trousers and some simple flat soled shoes. But a formal dinner is another thing altogether. Just then her advisor Seop Hyeon-hee and special aid Byeon Na-eun entered the room with a bow.

They placed and arranged the selection of clothing options on the bed.

"Ma'am we have some options for you to choose from." Byeon started

"Oh?" Sui looked over interested.

"Well we as you can see we have the top choice layed out on the bed here" Byeon gestured as Seop presented them. "A full option from western styles to more traditional or formal and business options here..." Byeon paused for a moment.

"I believe that it might be safest to go with this semi-formal purple dress and jacket combination."

Sui looked at the clothes presented. "Hmm...yes but that's perhaps a bit too cold and authoritative." Sui turned to the traditional hanbok option, "Now I think this will show our friends the true character of Anikatia."

"Of course," Byeon said "But aren't you afraid that might look a bit too conspicuous. Especially after how everyone was treating that Hetman fellow and his traditional outfit."

"Please, the hanbok is far more elegant and graceful than that outfit of the Hetman and besides as the only female leader here there isn't exactly much I can do to blend in now is there?" Sui said raising her hands.

"Heh" Byeon let out smile "Quite true ma'am"

"We'll just have this one thank you" Sui said pointing to the Hanbok.

"As you wish ma'am" Seop complied and removed the other outfits.

Byeon then caught Seop by the door and said. "In a about ten to fifteen minutes could you bring in the hair and makeup people?" Seop gave a nod of acknowledgement. Then gave a quick bow to Sui before exiting the room.

Leaving only the Hanbok and Byeon to help Sui get ready.

After a brief few minutes changing into the Sokchima underlayer. Byeon then helped Sui fit the deep blue silk Chima, then came the unique Jeogori. Unlike the usual Jeogori, this was a longer version reaching down to the mid-calf level. It was rich red silk coloured, detailed with intricate floral pattern. She then put on her pearl white high heels, that were hidden under the Chima but if revealed would match the Dongjeong perfectly. Then after some adjustments to her makeup and hair from the stylists she was set. Looking in the mirror she felt like one of the princesses or queens of ancient Anikatian dynasties.

Outside the room Dae Kwang-gyoo waited along with the other members of the security team. He was nervous, he checked his watch. It seemed like they might be late to the event. Why do women always take so long he thought, the last President never took this long to get ready. He let out a sigh. Not much point in standing guard here. Dae thought, the floor was completely deserted. No doubt the Aisling teams had the exterior zone locked down too.

But just then Sui and her assistant Byeon exited the room, and then the whole entourage made their way down to the grand dining hall. Entering the magnificent and palatial hall in an almost royal procession. The concierge was swift to greet them guiding them into the room. Where in place of the usual dinner table was a large and commanding round table.

This drew a slight smile from Sui. The equality of such a move, felt like such a contrast to the traditions of everything else in the building and indeed everything it seemed to stand for as well. But she gained a new respect for Avila after that. She was going to make a remark to him right then. But Sui could see that he was already engrossed in a three way conversation with the Dnieguan and Gratislavian leaders. She noted that the Gratislavians looked somewhat underdressed for the occasion. Especially standing next to the immaculately dressed Hetman Folke and Emperador Avila.

So President Sui stood for a moment to take in the room, and over off in one corner Sui noticed a gentleman dressed in an exquisite tuxedo. He was just chatting with his advisors it seemed. But then their eyes met and they both let out a friendly smile. Sui knew immediately from his characteristic grin that it was the Prestonian Emperor. Sui then made her way over to the Emperor and they both greeted each other with a simple hand shake.

The Emperor and Sui made for an odd duo, although their nations shared much in cultural ideals and customs. From a historical and even political standpoint they were some very grave differences and disagreements that still existed. Yet, somehow so far they have managed to make this partnership work. Perhaps by looking beyond the sins of the past, towards a future of greater unity in shared values.

[Central Prestonia]

The Emperor had scarcely been present five minutes before his eye caught the unmistakable visage of President Sui of Anikatia. Quite apart from being the only woman present, her radiant traditional hanbok and accouterments looked like something out of a painting from Kazuhito's own collection. It was a good thing, though, and made the Prestonian Emperor almost wish he had come in kimono. Next time, perhaps; the Kan knew he had more than enough of them.

He strode confidently across the room and extended his hand in a firm handshake, bowing perhaps a bit deeper than he would've otherwise done. Sui was difficult to read on this particular evening; her expression was as warm and cordial as ever, but it seemed as if there was something else behind that. A hint of suspicion, perhaps. Skepticism, one could call it. The Emperor supposed this could not be blamed. It was a new century, but old wounds healed slowly and old shames still blackened the honor of the Clover Throne, at least to some circles. The requisite apologies were made at the requisite periodic intervals, but somehow it never seemed enough to please everyone. Perhaps it never would be. Kazuhito remembered his grandfather's words, from his youth: "the shame of defeat is less than the shame of ignorance." It was necessary, in other words, to learn from history, lest it be repeated. It was a lesson he had well absorbed.

"Madam President," he began, in Anikatian which betrayed only a slight hint of his native tongue's accent. "A pleasure to meet once again," he continued, in English now. "I must say, the hanbok has never looked more radiant," he said flashing his trademark smile.

"Your Majesty," Sui replied. "I thank you for your kind words. It has indeed been too long. Come, let us sit down; I'm sure the others will be along shortly." The Emperor graciously helped his Anikatian counterpart to her seat, seating himself after pulling the chair out for Sui. Across the hall, the others seem to have taken notice, and began making their way over. The Emperor studied them as they did so; courtly Avila, dashing Folke, and then Damjan, looking more than slightly uncomfortable amongst the aristocrats. He felt a pang of sympathy for the man. On paper, they had ruled about the same length of time. In practice, this had been Kazuhito's calling since the moment of his birth.

"Your poem was quite...serene," Sui continued after a moment. "I had no idea Your Majesty was a poet."

"Among many other pursuits, when one finds the time," the Emperor replied. "One does one's best to promote the tradition's of one's country; when our citizens look to us for guidance, we must be the model of our people."

"Indeed," Sui replied graciously. Something about that statement, for some reason, led Sui's mind not to the monarchical dignity of the Clover Throne but the rigidity of the DSRA. There too the state's appointed representative had taken upon itself the responsibility for "promoting the tradition," though in a much different direction. How odd it was, that the same idea could be taken in such vastly disparate directions. The others were beginning to arrive at the table now, though dinner would not be served for some time; a few among their number were still absent, perhaps taking an extra moment to ensure that everything was just so. So far, so good.

[Austrasien]

Gran Luxo Hotel
Dinsmar, Astrid
Empire of Temuair

"So how do I look Sigrun?"

"Your majesty you look.." as she stepped back to admire her handiwork her brow furrowed as if in deep thought, before suddenly lighting up in a smile "...authoritative, dignified and if I may so, just a bit dashing. The perfect look for the leader of our people!"

Roland let out a polite laugh. I am not sure I trust you girl, but it is certainly delightful to have someone other than dour bureaucrats and grim soldiers to talk to. "What about you Sigenandus, what do you think of Miss Falks handiwork?"

Sigenandus as usual was not paying close attention to what the Emperor was doing, instead he had been more occupied with his troublesome tie. "As usual sir the young lady has not disappointed. Another finely executed outfit, but if you could just excuse me for a moment.."

"Oh! Mr minister! Let me help you with that." Having finally noticed his predicament, Sigrun rushed over to help the First Minister correct his tie.

Roland meanwhile was becoming lost in thought as he admired his reflection. Sigrun Falk, why are you here? She seemed so harmless, so innocent. Roland still had trouble accepting she might be capable of anything duplicitous. Let alone spying on the Emperor of Austrasia. But he also knew he Grandfather. That man, he would believe it if he was told that man had wired up Sigrun himself.

Sigrun Blau. A fashion and design student from the Elite Osterrode Academy. Officially an image consultant interning with the imperial household, selected to accompany the Emperor and First Minister to Dinsmar. But to those who knew of such things, Sigrun Falk. Granddaughter of Reichsmarschall Reinhard Falk, supreme commander of the Austrasian Armed Forces. Not long after the meeting had been finalized the Marshal had approached Roland and 'suggested' his granddaughter could be of use to him. He had heard, of course, that Roland's old tailor was developing arthritis in his hands and was thinking of retiring. And here his granddaughter was a star pupil...

Roland had, with reservation, accepted his offer. He had no evidence then or now Sigrun was spying on him, and in fairness she was more talented than he had expected. The rational part of his mind also knew that Reinhard had other means of collecting information of him. But the itch wouldn't go away.

"...and there it is, a first rate tie for the First Minister" she giggled at her own joke.

Sigenandus looked relieved that he no longer needed to worry about the troublesome knot.

"Would you say the First Minister and I are ready to attend the then, Sigrun?"

"Absolutely your majesty. Your outfits are perfect and..." She glanced over at the clock "...you'll be fashionably late! Not like those classless Anikatian women what kind of women wears a suit to a formal dinner anyways? Doesn't she own any good dresses? ANYWAYS! You wouldn't want to be late either like a couple of Gratislavian boors!"

Roland had realized she was starting to ramble and was already moving for the door "Thank you for all your help Miss Sigrun. I dread to think what I would have done on my own."

Sigenandus though was starting to follow Roland, before stopping in his tracks "Ah, Miss Falk, or Miss Blau should I say, would you like to join us for dinner, when you are prepared I mean? I have already spoken with the dinner staff and they have no problem arranging an extra seat at out table. I know politics are not your forte, but, how should I say it, the Emperor and I are not the the most charismatic pair - don't take offense sir - and I believe a fine young lady such as yourself would project well on our people."

"None taking Sigenandus, I think it's a fine idea" But is it yours, or...?

"Oh! Sigrun for her part was caught off guard by the offer.

"I'll uh... need to get ready.... I need to... I can wear... I mean, YES certainly I'd love to come!"

"Great. We'll see you there."