Funeral of a King, 1886 (Vapor Only, Open)

[Dalruanazkal]

Silence fell on the palace. Hardly a soul stirred about the many halls and rooms of the King's residence. Service staff worked passively; the last few days had not even seen a spilled drink. Doctors and herbalists clustered together in tight groups, mindful of anyone around them. They knew they would be blamed first and people would judge them for the inevitable outcome. Priests and bishops lead people in prayer in the palace for King Maruduk-izkur IV's failing health. In the royal chamber, archbishops stood around their Ecumenical Archpriest as he laid sick and dying on his bed before them. They knew the time for prayer had come to an end. Everyone knew his time was coming to an end.

Doctors closely monitored his body. Age and fever finally caught the old king at his weakest. His breath slowed. He gave one last cough. King Maruduk took one last deep breath, opening his eyes and turning his head, looking straight out the window onto the stars. " صلى ابني. قد القسسه يعطيه الصبر والعقل لمباراة طموحه." He whispered in the ancient Alkudri tongue, a language long dead to anyone in the room. Everyone person in the room was shocked to see the King speak, having been silent for the last three days. He turned his head back and rested on his pillow and closed his eyes. Slowly his body shut down.
"Time of death: 6:36 pm, January 17th, 1886" Spoke a voice, breaking the silence.

---

News would spread about the death of King Maruduk-izkur IV, King of Dalruanazkal. The next dawn, all papers in Dalruanazkal would headline the death. Everyone would be talking about it. By the end of the week, everyone in Amplector would know about the death of the monarch.

[Inoroth]

Dalruanazkal Palace Compound: January 17th - 8:13 pm

The Inorothian spy knew he was making a risky move, but he had to let his government know the news. He had been operating here for over 7 years now, and no one suspected him. Born in the 'disputed territories', he had the blood of a Dalruanazkal but his loyalties lay with Inoroth. While he had managed to avoid detection, had had also managed to not pass along much of interest or consequence either. But not tonight. Tonight was his shining moment. Over an old radio, nearly drowned out by static, he sent the following message in Morris Code:

"Authorization code 176928447-a (stop)
Druanazkal King Maruduk-izkur IV dead (stop)
Time of death: 6:36 pm, January 17th, 1886 (stop)
Old age and protracted illness suspected causes (stop)
Successor unclear (stop)
Nation in mourning and shock (stop)"

Were those footsteps? The spy could not chance it. Setting the radio back into it's secret compartment in the floorboards, he went about his normal duties without earning a second glance from the other palace workers.

Dalruanazkal-Inorothian Border: Radio Listening Outpost No. 19, 8:14 pm

Communications Officer 2nd Class Brantoni Daranto felt a strange combination of despair, misfortune, rage, and freezing cold. This was the fourth time this week he had drawn the night shift, and while his mates were wrapped under mounds of blankets, he sat here in that cursed metal chair, with metal-rimmed ear pieces sticking stubbornly to his poor cartilage. Stooped over a crude radio piece, he longed for the warmth of bed. Indeed, anything warm would be a comfort. He wasn't really paying attention to the radio, as there was never anything of importance to be picked up anyways. All he could think of was the fact that it would be another two months before he was able to return to his home in the warm south. 'Ahh, warmth' he thought out loud.

Playing with the tuning dials, he picked up something Morris Code. Dutifully, he began writing it down, knowing it was probably some ham messing around. But as he continued, he realized that this was more than just someone fooling around... It was one of Inoroth's deep cover spies. When the message had stopped, he read it over once, twice, thrice to make sure he could not have misread it. He then prepared to send the same message himself, this time by telegraph line straight to Roth itself!

Paleza Royale - Seat of Governance in Inoroth - Communications Room No. 2, 8:59 pm

There was a flurry of activity as soon as the message arrived. Although it was a known fact that Dalruanazkal's king was I'll, no one in Inoroth's Intelligence Ministry expected him to die so suddenly. Official dispatches of condolence were quickly drawn up, to be served as soon as the news officially broke in Inorothian papers. Telegrams and paper dispatches were sent to government departments, governors, and any leader who might need to know this critical information. It was remarkable to see all of the little cogs in this great machine functioning so well together. Soon all that remained was to inform King Vinchero and his staff.

King Vinchero's Personal Study, 9:39 pm

Working so focused as he was, Vinchero did not respond when the door knocked, nor did he look up when the messenger entered. It was not until the note, marked Extremely Urgent' was placed on his desk. Sighing as he opened it, perturbed by the interruption, he began scanning the brief communiqué. His facial expression changed from annoyance to confusion to seriousness to sadness as he read and reread it. Eventually, he excused the messenger and lay down to pray, asking for God's direction on how to proceed. Once finished he wrote but one line in his journal

'Although relations have always been icy between our nations, Dalruanazkal has lost a great leader and we have lost a man who found war almost as abominable as we do. I fear whomever ascends the Dalruanazkal throne shall not have the same temperaments."

[Dalruanazkal]

Prince Vul-Hassimir

It was over. It was finally over. The old king died peacefully in his bed. It all happened yesterday, but it only reached me now, in my hotel, after returning from a hunt in the northern mountains. Even though we grew distant form each other in recent years, I felt a sense of sorrow grow over me. Even fear. I could feel in the sorrow that welled up from the pit of my stomach that I would come to miss the arguments we had, no matter how heated they became. The arguments we had after his wife my... stepmother, died. I think that must have been why he died.

When Maruduk-izkur took the crown in 1847, he married a high Dalruanazkalian noblewoman, my mother. It seemed the perfect marriage of nobility at the time. A statesman raised form birth, married the smart, crafty, and beautiful native noblewoman. Yet they were partners and not lovers. Soon they became icons for progress as they expanded rights to nearly everyone and abolished serfdom, after years of decay. Yet, the praise and love of the citizenry could not manage to fill a hole in his heart, left empty by my mother.

In 1859, my mother died in childbirth, leaving behind my father, three children, and my little sister, whom she died to give life to. Nobody knew if the affair began before or after my mother's death, but Maruduk-izkur found a new woman he loved. A lowly noblewoman from the borders, the two became merry lovers. Within two years, they married. They produced no children, which lead church elders to ponder if they used birth control, a touchy subject in the Church. They were not partners in their relationship; she had no experience in governing, but she knew how to live happily, something Maruduk-izkur had to learn. Instead they were lovers, and Maruduk-izkur never did pass laws as radical as he once did.

She left here mark on everyone, even I came to love her as a mother, and she and Maruduk-izkur lived in bliss in the other's embrace. But paradise cannot last forever. During a tour of the country, an anarchist threw dynamite at her when she tour a town by horse-drawn carriage. It was a shock to the nation as a whole. Maruduk-izkur experienced mood swings, seeking vengeance, solace, pity, and lashed out in rage often all in the same day. We argued at length at how it could have been different. Convinced by the assassination that we needed to progress further, I complained how our methods of murder were modern, yet we lack factories, and not even the royal family owns a steam-powered, horseless carriage, something that might have protected the Queen. He argued at length that progress would leave to more ways to kill, and more efficient. I countered that there would be better countermeasures as a result. The debate raged on for years, on and off as Maruduk-izkur fell into depression, a sadness that got worse over. Two years after his beloved second wife died, he started to get better. Still shaken by her death, but he was in the mood for jokes and life. Yet his depression left him weak. He lost ten pounds and ate less afterwards and practiced combat less often. Within months, he caught fever and fell terribly ill. The rest is well-published.

Now the burden of rule falls to me. At 33 years of age, I can promise a long reign. My father's death as a sick man will not mean the end for the 'Sick man of Amplector.' Instead, Dalruanazkal will take the medicine it needs and fight off its fever. We will rise stronger and better than ever before and regain our place at the table of nations, until one day, we take our place at the head of that table. No scar of past wounds will linger, but be replaced by the stretchmarks from the birth of a new nation to live in a new century.

A bold vision, but I am bold man. But before my bold vision becomes a bold plan, I must become king. My father's funeral must be held as soon as possible so I may wear the crown of The King-Archpriest. I headed for the hotel's telegram office. I wired a message back to the palace.

I will return with all haste STOP
Prepare for the funeral STOP
Send out invitations to various heads of state STOP

[Pavlostani]

Dom Klerk was reading a Dalruanazkalan newspaper and was shocked to read of the king's death. The spy quickly wired a telegram back to the Dictator of Khamul stating this, and awaited anxiously for a response. He had been a friend of the steward, and decided he would attend the funeral. He would never seem out of place, and could possibly glean some juicy information for Khamul.

[Dalruanazkal]

Alam Kir-Shamash

These were sad days. King Maruduk-izkur IV, may the Divines bless him and watch over us, was a loved king. Maybe the most beloved there had ever been in our kingdom. His death shook everyone. I was in his bedroom as the embalmers took his body off the bed and placed in a casket, which they carried to the palace's basement to prepare to embalm him. Many were distraught, several people left the room unable to contain themselves. I asked an archbishop present, what were his last words. He said it was in ancient Alkurdi, a language known only to the oldest members of the Church as common Dalruanazkalian replaced it as the language of mass, the King was one of the only fluent speakers. Though no one knew what he said, the archbishop thought it was a warning about his son.

The archbishop's remarks remained him that the prince and heir sent a telegram back to the palace toady. He wanted us to prepare for the funeral as soon as possible. Knowing the prince's haste, I was sure he would be back by nightfall. The preparations started as soon as our future king commanded us. Reading over the telegram, I read that he wanted us to invite various heads of state to his father's funeral. It was without precedent, to have foreigners come to such an important state funeral. Some would say it was disrespectful, but I could not argue with my king. I must draft a letter.

You are hereby invited
By the Prince of Dalruanazkal
To attend the funeral of King Maruduk-izkur IV,
To pay respects to the passing of a peaceful and benevolent king

The funeral will be held on the First of February at Nine in the morning in the main hall of the Holy and Serene Temple in Atrahasis-kal-ammi. The Crown-Prince shall speak at the funeral along with other honor speakers and religious leaders. Other leaders willing to speak will require the permission of the prince, and seek that permission in their return letter to attend the funeral. Anyone attending the funeral will be asked to respond as soon as possible and with the number of guests attending. As this will be a large state funeral attended by people all over Dalruanazkal, space will be limited, reservations are a must.

We hope you will attend and pray with us as we celebrate the life and legacy of King Maruduk-izkur IV. May the Seven Divines bless you and grant you safe journey.

Signed
Alam Kir-Shamash,
Head of Foreign Affairs and
Interim Prime Minister

[The Holy Dominion of Inesea]

Dalruanazkal Naval College

Zheng Hua was startled awake by his roomate, Cadet Thiers. "Hua, our king has died. The College is holding a memorendum service in 6 hours, get ready. Zheng slowly, crankily got out of bed. So what, he thought, if their king was dead? Why did it matter to him? He was an Inesean exchange student sent by Inesea to help learn modern sailing and tactics. Then again, it would be disrespectful not to attend. Grabbing some stationary and a pen, he wrote a letter to his father, Captain Zheng He.

Dearest Father,
Today the Dalruanazkalian king has passed. I just thought that you should pass it on the the IIS.
With warm wishes,
Hua

[Inoroth]

Paleza Royale - Seat of Inorothian Governance - King Vinchero's Personal Study - 1:20 pm

The King was bent over his massive mahogany desk, possessing an 'all-business' look. Among the various items one would expect to find on such furniture sat a neatly stacked pile of variously sized letters. They came from all over the realm and beyond, Vinchero making it his policy to read personally every letter addressed to him. After all, anyone taking the trouble to write a letter to their King deserved to have their queries returned in kind. Thus, every day for about two hours Vinchero would read and respond to his own mail.

So far, none of them were of any particular interest to him. Most of his mail came from wealthy noblemen and women announcing births or parties and general celebrations. Vinchero did not much care for high society, so he rarely attended them. However, he always declined gracefully and ensured that a considerable gift was delivered to those concerned, to show his 'sincere' apologies for not attending.

Other letters came from ordinary citizens, complaining about some I'll that they believed the Government should fix. One woman from the Rothian suburb of Datti wrote once a month to condemn the 'horrible neglect' her town paid to noise ordinances. Although Vinchero politely informed that this issue should be brought up with local authorities and not the King, she diligently continued her correspondence. Indeed, Vinchero so enjoyed the diversion that he had paid a visit to Datti's Mayor, a bureaucrat named Flavoni, only four days ago. Feigning outrage, Vinchero informed the man that he 'wished to know why some of his subjects were being disturbed by loud cats at ungodly hours of the night?'. Vinchero then began a long lecture about the responsibilities of leadership and the duties of a Mayor. Poor Flavoni could only stand and nod, hoping his head would remain in it's current state before the day was up. Vinhero, satisfied he had instilled the fear of God into the man, then expressed his hope that Mr, Flavoni would 'execute his duties more diligently in the future'. He was sure that this man would, and he was still chuckling ever so slightly as he reached for the next letter in the stack.

This one was different. It felt heavier, more official. It was postmarked to Dalruanazkal. 'What could anyone from there possibly want?' thought Vinchero... Then he remembered: it was most likely an announcement for the funeral. Vinchero solemly opened the envelope with his favorite letter opener, one he had personally selected from a souvenir shop in Sri Tschow itself. Unfolding the paper, he read:

You are hereby invited
By the Prince of Dalruanazkal
To attend the funeral of King Maruduk-izkur IV,
To pay respects to the passing of a peaceful and benevolent king

The funeral will be held on the First of February at Nine in the morning in the main hall of the Holy and Serene Temple in Atrahasis-kal-ammi. The Crown-Prince shall speak at the funeral along with other honor speakers and religious leaders. Other leaders willing to speak will require the permission of the prince, and seek that permission in their return letter to attend the funeral. Anyone attending the funeral will be asked to respond as soon as possible and with the number of guests attending. As this will be a large state funeral attended by people all over Dalruanazkal, space will be limited, reservations are a must.

We hope you will attend and pray with us as we celebrate the life and legacy of King Maruduk-izkur IV. May the Seven Divines bless you and grant you safe journey.

Signed
Alam Kir-Shamash,
Head of Foreign Affairs and
Interim Prime Minister

So, despite the tensions, Inoroth was included in the invitation. Vinchero at first was inclined to decline, but then he noticed who the signature belonged to - his old friend, Mr. Alam. Remembering their promise to meet again as early as possible, Vinchero was swayed to attend. Dipping his pen into the inkwell, he wrote the following response:

Mr. Alam,

I was deeply grieved to hear of your loss. Although I did not have the pleasure to meet him personally, I have heard only positive reports of Maruduk-izkur's courage, honor, and leadership. He was a great man, and I am willing to pay my respects to greatness wherever it may be found, for it is a rare commodity.

Under his and my own father's rule, our countries have enjoyed a time of peace, prosperity, and glory unparalleled in their long, tumultuous history. I can only hope that we who follow in their footsteps are able to maintain that peace the peace they strove for and the prosperity the so diligently won.

I shall be attending the funeral with a party of no more the forty persons, and we shall arrive as soon as humanly possible. May God grant you your heart's inmost desires,

Your sincere friend,

Victor Emanuel Vinchero, King of all Inoroth

[Dalruanazkal]

Mr. Alam,

I was deeply grieved to hear of your loss. Although I did not have the pleasure to meet him personally, I have heard only positive reports of Maruduk-izkur's courage, honor, and leadership. He was a great man, and I am willing to pay my respects to greatness wherever it may be found, for it is a rare commodity.

Under his and my own father's rule, our countries have enjoyed a time of peace, prosperity, and glory unparalleled in their long, tumultuous history. I can only hope that we who follow in their footsteps are able to maintain that peace the peace they strove for and the prosperity the so diligently won.

I shall be attending the funeral with a party of no more the forty persons, and we shall arrive as soon as humanly possible. May God grant you your heart's inmost desires,

Your sincere friend,

Victor Emanuel Vinchero, King of all Inoroth

Oh dear. Vinchero plans to attend the funeral, which means someone sent him a copy of the letter. Curses. I thought to myself. A diplomatic hurricane started to brew before my eyes as I reread the letter, making certain that this was real. When I asked for copies of the letter to be sent out to the various countries of Amplector and beyond, I did not consider that some bureaucrat would be so stupid as to send a letter to Inoroth, our historical enemies. I rubbed my temples, wondering how something so easily preventable could cause the major storm that rolled towards Atrahasis-kal-ammi.

The Rothians would be seen as conquerors, coming to dance on the grave of their enemy. I couldn't be counted as one of the surprised if a riot broke out in the Temple at the sight of the Inorothian King. No one knew Vinchero like how I knew him. I did not get a war-mongering impression from the king while we were in Ticciano last year. I felt he was sincere, being a... sincere friend of mine and I was sure he and Maruduk-izkur IV would have been friends in another lifetime. But, no one would understand, that King Vinchero had no bad blood with the Dalruanazkalis, or so I think. His presence at the funeral would cause an uproar. I would have to alert him that his presence would do more harm than good and urge him to stay in his home country, before it is too late.

Dear King Victor Emanuel Vinchero,

It gives me much relief and hope for the future that you would attend the funeral of a man who was once considered your eternal enemy. I only wish there were more people that had the same understanding we share, but alas, our friendship is a diamond in an ocean of obsidian. An invitation was sent to you by mistake, and I am sorry that there is any confusion at this.
Many of my country would be deeply shocked and offended by your presence in one of our holiest sites during the funeral of a beloved king. Though I know you wish well and have no ill intention, I urge you stay in Roth and do not attend the funeral. I hope this letter reaches you in time and I wish that we might maintain our friendship, and that this misunderstanding will not interfere with it.

Your friend,
Alam Kir-Shamash

[Pavlostani]

Code: Select all

You are hereby invited
By the Prince of Dalruanazkal
To attend the funeral of King Maruduk-izkur IV,
To pay respects to the passing of a peaceful and benevolent king

The funeral will be held on the First of February at Nine in the morning in the main hall of the Holy and Serene Temple in Atrahasis-kal-ammi. The Crown-Prince shall speak at the funeral along with other honor speakers and religious leaders. Other leaders willing to speak will require the permission of the prince, and seek that permission in their return letter to attend the funeral. Anyone attending the funeral will be asked to respond as soon as possible and with the number of guests attending. As this will be a large state funeral attended by people all over Dalruanazkal, space will be limited, reservations are a must.

We hope you will attend and pray with us as we celebrate the life and legacy of King Maruduk-izkur IV. May the Seven Divines bless you and grant you safe journey.

Signed
Alam Kir-Shamash,
Head of Foreign Affairs and
Interim Prime Minister

The Dictator read the note solemnly. He was a staunch atheist, yet he didn't seem to mind the religious undertones in the note. "Good bye, Maruduk-izkur." He murmured. The King had been a good man, and would certainly attend the funeral. It would serve as a good cover while his agent in Dalruanazkal snooped behind the scenes.

Code: Select all

Dear Alam Kir-Shamash,
We give you our greatest condolences. The King was a good man, and if I remember correctly, a close friend of yours. I, the Benign Dictator Pavel will gladly attend this funeral, and pay tribute to one of the most stable and level headed men I have ever known. I shall attend with my aide, Alberto Milanvanzi, who shall show no problems, I assure you.
                                                                                Signed: Dictator Pavel VII of the Socialist State of Khamul.

[Inoroth]

Dear King Victor Emanuel Vinchero,

It gives me much relief and hope for the future that you would attend the funeral of a man who was once considered your eternal enemy. I only wish there were more people that had the same understanding we share, but alas, our friendship is a diamond in an ocean of obsidian. An invitation was sent to you by mistake, and I am sorry that there is any confusion at this.
Many of my country would be deeply shocked and offended by your presence in one of our holiest sites during the funeral of a beloved king. Though I know you wish well and have no ill intention, I urge you stay in Roth and do not attend the funeral. I hope this letter reaches you in time and I wish that we might maintain our friendship, and that this misunderstanding will not interfere with it.

Your friend,
Alam Kir-Shamash

The letter sat unopened on Vinchero's desk, sharing space with his other backed up paperwork. It had arrived around three pm, exactly two hours after Inoroth's King had boarded a special train heading North to Dalruanazkal, accompanied by thirty elite guards and four personal assistants. The train now sped towards it's destination, flitting past factories and villages, trees and farmhouses, it's occupants unaware of the potential trouble that awaited them.

[Dalruanazkal]

Alam Kir-Shamash, Atrahasis-kal-ammi
7:48 am, First of February, 1886

The day came as surely as any other day comes. The cosmic forces had not lost step, not even for the passing of my king. They had not stopped or even flinched at the lines of corpses of war, nor slowed as disease and frost threatened the lives of of Dalruanazkali living in the northern mountains. It made me wonder why the Divines let such heavy burdens crush their people. Had we not been worthy as of late?

Outside the carriage window lay Atrahasis-kal-ammi. Silence filled the city with emptiness. Drained souls in empty bodies passively headed towards the Temple, muffling their tears. The clock tower sticking out form the small skyline neared eight o'clock. Today the tower would not ring, expect at 6:36 this evening, the time of his passing. As the time approached nine o'clock, the start of the funeral, people filled the Temple, as new devices called 'speakers' were set up on the grounds surrounding the Temple so those who could not find a seat could still hear the funeral.

My carriage brought me up to the front gates of the Holy and Serene Temple. Many of my fellow countrymen passed me, hands in their faces, huddled together. I felt the same way they all did. I worked closely for the king and perhaps missed him most of all. Yet, I could show emotions and appear to be a broken man to the foreign dignities that were arriving. Dictator Pavel VII of Khamul was due to arrive. The group from Inoroth never sent a letter stating that they received their letter, asking them not to attend, and that worried me. But whatever was done was too late to change. I had to stand against the tide of mourners as I awaited the arrival of fate.

[Inoroth]

As the train steamed north, the countryside gradually changed from flat and industrialized to mountainous and agrarian. Vinchero relaxed in the plush private train-car as it click-clacked down the track. Everything had been arranged, and he was to be back before anything too important was missed back home. Nothing remained for him but to sit and enjoy the view. His four attendants were seated around him, one making up a itinerary for the next few days, two pulling out papers from files, papers that might be needed at the border or to enter the palace, and the last one writing out a press release. This was, after all, the first time in nearly 100 years that an Inorothian King had been on Dalruanazkal's soil, and even longer since one had been there peacefully.

The thirty Royal Guards of the Citadel perched poker straight in red velvet seats, their posh and exuberant violet and navy blue uniform jackets matching the opulent surroundings perfectly. A large silver breastplate hung predominantly out at the chest giving each man a very powerful, almost superhuman shape. Protective guards at the shoulders, elbows, thighs and knees enhanced the projection. The pants were deepest blue, with a black leather belt holding everything elegantly up. They were the crowning achievement of Inorothian engineering, the epitome of her fashion, and the highest accomplishment of culture. Arrayed such, in parade dress, A Royal Guard would fit the decor of any event, no matter how formal.

However, these men were equipped for more than show. Their uniforms were armored, able to deflect a thrust or blow. At their sides were holstered Army 1881 "Foal" Revolvers. Although they were slated to be replaced by some form of a semi-automatic pistol in the very near future, these firearms were still formidable, having the advantage of a rather large round capacity.

The Royal Guards were also armed with 1839 "Dragon Dragoons" - powder-less, pressure-repeating air rifles - something of a novelty. These rifles also had a large ammunition capacity, at twenty-five rounds. These bullets were stored in the handle, double stacked, and pushed foreword by a spring. Each rifle had a pressure chamber in the butt-stock, which once fully charged was good for 50+ shots before requiring re-pumping. So were Inoroth's finest armed and clad as they steamed North.

At last the train pulled up to the Inoroth - Dalruanazkal border. Here they would need to wait for permission to cross the lines and enter Dalruanazkal proper. They telegraphed ahead, refueling and watering as they awaited an answer.

[Dalruanazkal]

Atrahasis-kal-ammi, Dalruanazkal
Government telegraph Office

The message traveled with the great distance in only a matter of seconds. The efficiency that messages crossed the nation today seemed like magic to many a Dalruanazkali. Even the few citizens that worked in the telegraph offices across the nation did not know how the long telegraph lines worked and have just became use to the magic.
One of these messages coded in dots and dashes was remarkably different from all the rest. The woman operator who received the message on the behalf of Border Security was dumbfounded to say the lest. The Inorothian King seeks permission to enter Dalruanazkal! No one alive had ever witnessed a Inorothian King coming to Dalruanazkal, and definitely not on the day of a King's funeral! She was shocked, not sure to outright deny him access or call for a manager to help her. Deciding she was unqualified for international politics she called for a manager.
The door behind her opened and in walked a formally dressed man in a suit, something uncommon for a common Dalruanazkali, usually only worn by capitalists and a few government officials. He waled over to her and asked, "Is it the Rothian King?"
She nodded her head before she shook out of her mental trance and blurted out "Wait, who are you, and how did you know that he sent this message?"
The government agent distasted explaining himself, but he knew that it would clear things up faster that way. "I'm from the government, I was stationed here waiting for this message to arrive. He was expected. And yo are to rely back that he is allowed to continue through the country to his destination, unmolested."
"Hold on, why should-"
The agent held out his finger, telling the woman to be silent. "I am have my orders from the highest places in the government, I suggest you follow them as well as I do." The operator as again dumbfounded and though she did not fully understand, she complied and replied back that the king was allowed entry. After she finished transmitting the message she turned back around to face the government agent. He had already vanished without anyone else noticing. Before she could say anything, another message was coming in and she had to return to her duties, unable to wonder about the strange man.

[Inoroth]

"My lord, we should have been given permission by now... Or at least a response of some sort."

Bemoaned one of Vinchero's attendants who was responsible for the border papers. They had indeed been sitting too long. The Royal Guards were alert and attentive, and though they were always ordered to be watchful, it seemed they were especially nervous here. Vinchero attempted to allay everyone's fears (including his own).

"It's not every day an Inorothian King visits their nation, is it? I wouldn't be suppressed if the people who received the telegram are simply flabbergasted and confused as to the proper channels to gain approval for our request. Have no concerns, then... I am sure permission will be granted sooner or later."

As if a direct response to Vinchero's consolation, the unmistakeable clacks of the Telegram Reciever were heard. The operator read the message with the rapidity and efficiency that only comes from working on the lines.

"Inorothian Special Car -
You are hereby granted permission to bring -
The Funeral Party -
Including Inoroth's King -
into Dalruanazkal -
May the Seven Divines Guide Your Path -
End message -"

"Thank you, operator. Well gentlemen, let's be off!"

Exclaimed Vinchero. The car was again loaded with occupants as the 'Special Train' headed out of Vinchero's domain and into the unknown. The Inorothian Engine was turned around, and the car coupled to a Dalruanazkal train bound for the Capitol. Now Vinchero and his enturage were completely in their hands, and while he trusted Mr. Alam completely, the others had no such faith in their mortal enemies and were anxious for the entire affair to be over.

[Dalruanazkal]

Kudurri-lli, Dalruanazkal
4:01 p.m. January 31, 1886

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The however made an unexpected stop at a border town near Inoroth. Another car was added to the end of the train. No one knew they were going to add this car, and not a soul was told about the contents of the car, not even the conductor and engineer. Many a person noticed that stationing of armed guards in the second to last car guarding the foreign car. They carried brass and gold coated shotguns, with Dalruanazkali political and religious symbols craved in the metal. They were honor guards and soon the whole train knew this wasn't your regular shipment of tobacco.
The train rolled through the country without event. As night fell the lights of distant cities and Atrahasis-kal-ammi shone brighter and brighter until the train pulled into Atrahasis Central Rail Station. The passengers grabbed their belongings and walked onto the platform and into the glowing night of the city. The last car of the train to empty was the car that was added on at the border. The few citizens who stood on the platform stood shocked to see the Rothian King Vinchero step off the train with his entourage, flanked by Dalruanazkali honor guards. The silence that roared through the station did not last long. As the Royal attendance made their way to the main lobby and outside to the waiting carriages, one, two, five, an ever growing amount of men and women chanted racial slurs to the Inorothian Royal. "Goombah!" "Blood-thirsty conquerors!"
The crowd in the station slowly followed the King, expressing their hate. Police were brought in as the crowd grow in anger and mass. Someone threw balls of paper and another pens. The police used force and pushed the crowd away from the visiting dignitary. The honor guards lead Vinchero and the others to the waiting horse-drawn carriages outsides. On top each sat another honor guard armed with a rifle. The Royal entourage entered the carriages while the King was brought to a steam-powered car, among the first in Dalruanazkal. A highly decorated honor guard officer with a commanding gaze in his eyes apologized to Vinchero for the riot. He told him he was being brought to the most luxurious hotel the nation had to offer to rest before tomorrow's funeral. "I hope you enjoy your stay in Atrahasis-kal-ammi," said the officer. I hope it'll be the last you ever see of it. he said under his breath.

[Inoroth]

Once safely in the carriage, Vinchero turned to those riding with him:

"That was very unpleasant. By the seemingly unorganized and shocked nature of the protestors, one would think that they didn't even know I was coming. It certainly seems strange to me that we were shuttled in secretly on a normal train."

"I don't like it" said a concerned assistant - "If the people were not expecting us, then who knows what they will do once word spreads that were are here? They might even try and storm the hotel we're headed to. Those Barbarians!"

"Don't think that way. It was probably a minor incident. Anyways, the police seemed to know what they were doing, and we are only here to pay respects to and console my friend, Mr. Alam. As soon as the funeral service ends, we will be safely on a train bound for Roth. Ahh, this must be the hotel."

[Dalruanazkal]

First of February, 1886
8:15 a.m.

Everyone was quiet that day. Hardly a carriage rolled across the cobblestone and brick roads. Not a single shop was open. Factories closed for the day across the city. Reflexively, the country was still as Atrahasis-kal-ammi wallowed in its collective grief. Despite the silence, the city was not empty. The streets filled with people, marching to the coast to come to the Holy and Serene Temple. Every few minutes a train pulled in with dozens more muffled sobs flooding the mourning city.

The only vehicle that rocked and bumped on the mortar and stone roads was an Imperial Honor Guard Steam automobile. The car moved against the tide of citizens. It stopped halfway across the city at a luxury hotel. Out of the car stepped an Honor Guard Captain. He marched with armed guards into the hotel. Never stopping to ask questions or directions, the men seemed to know where exactly they were going.

They arrived at a reserved room, perhaps the most expensive in all of the city. The captain knocked three times and waited five seconds to knock twice more. This was the the secret signal the captain told the room occupant the night before to know his arrival. The door slowly opened to reveal a maid. Visible behind her was the Rothian King. "Your Majesty, I am here to escort you to the late King Maruduk-izkur's funeral," the honor guard started, "however, I must ask you wear this outfit instead." One the guards flanking the captain brought forth a silk suit and matching pants. "You won't look like a Dalruanazkali, but you won't look like Rothian Royalty. I can ask you you wear this, but it is for your protection, so I urge you to consider."

[Inoroth]

First of February, 1886
8:15 am

Although his assistants were nervous, the Rothian King had enjoyed a wonderful night's rest, and he awoke refreshed the next morning. He certainly could not complain about his lodgings too much. Although they were not Rothian (in style or quality), they were well designed and well kept. Vinchero had sat in his room reading for three hours now, awaiting the arrival of his escort. At last they arrived, using the predetermined knock sequence. Even Vinchero was a little concerned that the Dalruanazkal Imperial Honor Guard was taking such cautious measures, but he was sure they were over-reacting.

The door was opened, revealing a knot of Imperial Honor Guards. Their leader began:

"Your Majesty, I am here to escort you to the late King Maruduk-izkur's funeral, however, I must ask you wear this outfit instead."

One the guards flanking the captain brought forth a silk suit and matching pants.

"You won't look like a Dalruanazkali, but you won't look like Rothian Royalty."

The look of shock on Vinchero caused him to continue:

"I can ask you you wear this, but it is for your protection, so I urge you to consider."

Vinchero looked at the clothing for a moment, then back at the Ruanazkal.

"My good man, I am sure you mean well, and I mean no disrespect, but I cannot wear that! I have come as Inoroth's official mourner to this funeral, and I will appear as such no matter the danger. Even were I to wear this, I would still be identifiable as Rothian because of my thirty Royal Guards, which I intend to bring along with me. I must thus graciously refuse this offer."

The king looked squarely at the head guard, trying to determine how in danger he really was here in Dalruanazkal.

[Dalruanazkal]

Atrahasis-kal-ammi, Dalruanazkal
First of February, 1886
8:15 am

"Very well, your Majesty." The Honor Guard Captain bowed at the King's answer. He's just made my job a lot harder. I wonder if he knows that if he dies, I will be killed as well. The captain's men withdrew the silk clothing. "If you follow me then, I will lead you and your entourage to the Funeral." The escort and King Vinchero walked down the hotel's halls, gathering the other members of the Royal Entourage. After a few minutes, the group descended into the lobby and exited onto the streets.

The city had lost the energy and fury it had last night when 'greeting' the Rothian Monarch. Only a few carriages quietly rolled through the city. Most traffic was done by foot. The masses speak little, with only the cries and the routine whistles and bells of trains carrying additional mourners to the city breaking the hanging silence. This was not a day that random citizens or passerby's would assault the visiting King. Many did not notice the occupants of the convoy of carriages and the open steam-carriage.

The convoy arrived at the Holy and Serene Temple, one of the most scared temples in Kazamekism and its central church. The white glistened with the morning sun bearing down on its eastern front. Behind the temple, the Bay of Atrahasis shone in the sun's ray, adding an almost heavenly aura to the Temple. The Royal convoy circled around the courtyard that filled with the many Dalruanazkali who could not afford a reserved seat nor arrive arrive early enough to find an empty pew. The carriages stopped and unloaded their various passengers along with the wealthy captains of industry, high ranking government officials, prestigious military officers, and the well-connected nobility, along with the families of the formers wives of King Maruduk-izkur IV. As the Rothian King stepped out of the steam-carriage, a man of medium build wearing his blue government robes and well kept brown bread approached. "Is that you Vinchero? The same Vinchero from the railroad conference?" asked the man as he took out the coca cigar from his month.

[Inoroth]

Atrahasis-kal-ammi, Dalruanazkal
First of February, 1886
8:16 am

The Dalruanazkal Guard, though he hid his emotions well, seemed to Vinchero to posses a great deal of concerned and alarm at the garment's refusal and for the king's safety. No matter, Vinchero had full confidence in the man's ability to protect him - though he brought eight of his own Royal Guards, not leaving anything to chance. The nine of them followed the Guard down a flight of red-carpeted stairs, through the elaborately decorated main lobby, and into a waiting car.

The motorcade passed through the streets of the city, whose eerie silence told of he beloved king's departure. No angry crowds swarmed the automobile, for the mourning populace had more grievous matters to attend to than one visiting dignitary. Vinchero could not help but draw a comparison from this mourning city to his own city of Roth when his own father had passed. And once that memory entered his head, a feeling of empathy and connection with the multitude of sorrowful Dalruanazkals welled up in his heart.

Still feeling for their loss when they stopped, he stepped from the open car. A man approached, and he was a familiar and welcome one indeed.

"Mr. Alam! It is most truly I, King Vinchero! How good it is to see you again - as I promised I would... though I am sorry it needs be under the present circumstances. My sincerest condolences for your and your nation's loss."

[Dalruanazkal]

Atrahasis-kal-ammi, Dalruanazkal
First of February, 1886

"To be honest your Majesty, I am not sure how I feel about your attendance. I thank you for your condolences, but you were not invited to the funeral." There was a brief pause. I did not like appearing so rude to a friend, even more so when he was the King of a nation we held tense relations with. The effort to force the words up my throat was hard, and evener hard to bear to say them outright. "The invitation sent to you was a bureaucratic error. You see, while I believe that you are sincere in your reasons for coming to the King's funeral, many people will feel insulted. I've heard that mobs have turned angry and nearly violent after seeing you last night. You see, that's why you couldn't come, it would cause conflicts." I caught my breath. The stress and anxiety was getting to me. Vul-Hassimir will surely have my head if anything bad happens. I thought. "I am not sure what we should do if... if..."

"Is there a problem Mr. Kir-Shamash?" spoke a voice. I turned around and saw the crown prince standing there. In his white naval uniform, standing erect and arms behind his back he commanded a powerful presence. He looked at me and then at the King of Inoroth and back at me. "King Victor Emanuel Vinchero I of Inoroth I presume?" The prince took his hand and shook it with a little bow. I was amazed. Was the violence and bloodshed of hundreds of years finally behind us? I was still more shocked to see the prince speak perfectly in the Inorothian tongue, saying only what I could pick pieces up of: "I am Prince Vul-Hassimir Sharokeen, future King of Dalruanazkal. I see you are here to pay final respects to my father, yes?"

[Inoroth]

Atrahasis-kal-ammi, Dalruanazkal
First of February, 1886

King Vinchero's smile flattened into a look of confusion when Mr. Alam informed him he had not been invited. It turned into an outright frown as Mr. Alam explained what had happened. 'A bureaucratic error... but I had the invitation in my hands. Someone must have really botched something' he thought.

Vinchero could tell it pained Mr. Alam to inform him of what really happened, but it did not lessen the blow one bit. Before, Vinchero had thought that perhaps centuries of icily hostile relations might be thawing, but now it seemed nothing had changed... until the Crown Prince himself appeared.

Although not terribly tall, he certainly possessed an authoritative manner - most becoming of a future king. He probably first learned it - or, more likely earned it in combat. His uniform was pressed and neat, giving added weight to the likelyhood of military service. He seemed calm but sure, and Vinchero liked him right away. Then, in a manner of Rothian only spoken by nobles and upperclassmen, he spoke:

"King Victor Emanuel Vinchero I of Inoroth I presume? I am Prince Vul-Hassimir Sharokeen, future King of Dalruanazkal. I see you are here to pay final respects to my father, yes?"

Extending his hand, Vinchero responded fluently in the Arkudian tongue:

"You are correct on both counts sir. I am indeed Inoroth's King, come to honor your father. I offer you my deepest condolences on your loss. It is certainly a sad day for us all, for he and my father kept the peace for many years. It feels as though an era is passing, and a new one begins."

[Dalruanazkal]

Atrahasis-kal-ammi, Dalruanazkal
First of February, 1886

"I too, sincerely hope that the war and bloodshed of the past is over." said the Prince. I still shocked to see the future King welcome Vinchero. I have heard him complain bitterly about the disputed lands on our eastern border. Perhaps he turned over a new left. More likely, this was just diplomacy, making the best of an unfortunate turn of events. "But, I believe the funeral will start soon. Mr Kir-Shamash, could your lead our friend and his group to their pew?" asked the Prince. More like make a pew I thought. We did not reserve a pew for the Inorothians, since they were not supposed to come. No matter, moving a general's or a wealthy industrialist's family and his wrath were nothing to upsetting the King.
"Yes, your Majesty," I replied with all haste. "If you'll follow me King Vinchero, right this way."

[Inoroth]

Atrahasis-kal-ammi, Dalruanazkal
First of February, 1886

Vinchero nodded approvingly as the heir-apperant to the Arkudian throne expressed his desire for peace... perhaps they could maintain and possibly even expand on the peace their fathers had established - only time would tell. Meanwhile, Vinchero continued observing the Prince's actions, sizing him up. He was handsome, but with a hard, stern face - though it was quite possible that the passing of his father had changed his normal demeanor. He obviously knew what he was doing, and some of his people would respect him for that. But for most, competence is not enough... one must do more. Whether he would try to gain the other's respect through fear or love remained to be determined - and though Vinchero hoped for the former, he knew that most Arkudian Rulers preferred the former.

Prince Vul-Hassimir then requested that Mr. Alam show Vinchero to his seat. Vinchero bowed slightly towards the Prince and followed Mr. Alam into the overflowing Sanctuary of the Kamazek Church.

[Dalruanazkal]

The Holy and Serene Temple
Atrahasis-kal-ammi, Dalruanazkal

Alam Kir-Shamash walked with King down the central aisle of the Temple, taking a pew in the second row. Many hushed whispers filled the room as the Inorothian entourage walked by, yet no one speak no stand in protest at the culture clash. The people in the Temple remained silent as the funeral began. Archbishops filed into the main hall at two abreast. They each carried a copy of the Holy Nurakul and chanted ancient funeral rites and some swing incense burners as the archbishops approached the open stone coffin of King Maruduk-izkur IV. At the altar, many archbishops, still chanting away in Old Dalruanazkali, dispersed to light incense sticks throughout the Temple. One, the Archbishop Amukkan Ebar-Azum, head of the Order of the Black Cross, stood alone at the altar. Khazalode's Order of the Black Cross lead the faithful in funerals and and faith healings, and Amukkan Ebar-Azum, its head, had the honor to lead the late King's funeral.

He stood behind the old body of the King and said a silent prayer. Ebar-Azum motioned for the whole Temple to stand with him. "Our fellow Dalruanazkali and Alkurdians," began the archbishop, knowing that more then Kazamekists were here to grieve the death of a beloved monarch. "Brothers and Sisters of The Kazamek," he continued, referring to the faithful of Dalruanazkal. "And those of our human kin, here and abroad, whether they be friend... or foe," he added, talking to foreign nationals present or listening on the radio, but he made an effort to make eye contact with one man at the mention of 'foe.' "We welcome you all here today in peace and in common human suffering as we grieve and celebrate the life and death of King Maruduk-izkur. Let us sing Khazalode's prayer." Ebar-Azum sang, as well as a man of his late age could, the first verse of the song-prayer. The archbishops who surrounded him below the altar repeated the verse along with the Temple in modern Dalruanazkali.

The funeral song retold the story of the first death that humankind experienced. The first humans listened and heeded the words of Yaameshban, a man given divine knowledge to guide humanity in its earliest days. After many years, he disagreed with the Divines and forbid worship of them, claiming prayer hope in heavenly bodies only made them weaker. It did not take long until he created a cult of his own personality. One man, Yaamkuuhar, challenged Yaameshban and his cult. Yaameshban, with his divine knowledge, taught the loyal members of his cult how to kill, something unknown to them. That night they called Yaamkuuhar with stone. In a flash of blue light, Khazalode appeared before them. Her pale blue skin and empty white eyes that shined with holy radiance frightened the cultists and they repented. Khazalode picked up the body of Yaamkuuhar and repaired the corpse with stones that struck him. Yaamkuuhar returned to life and with hand in hand with the Goddess of Death, vanished into thin air. Yaameshban was burned and banished and became the first Demon in later years. From this, Kazamekists learned to bury the dead in stone to protect them form demonic spirits and retell the story to ask Khazalode for her blessings.