A Wedding in Markund (CLOSED; Western Atlantic/Invites Only)

[Brasland]

Royal Palace, Markund

After a symbolic and solemn ceremony at the Cathedral of St Nicholas, Irene of Brasland sealed her destiny. She was now married to Prince John, the heir to the throne of Cyretopolitania, and the couple looked forward for a bright and happy future together.

The royal carriage passed through the streets of Markund in the middle of the joy and excitement of the local population. Shouts of "Irene", "John" and "Long live the King" were heard while Braslander and Cyretian flags were waved by the people. Irene, now Princess of Cyretopolitania, watched all this with true surprise. She was too modest and shy to consider herself worthy of such public display of affection, but in her heart she felt touched and happy. She looked at her husband with a tender expression and touched his hand shyly.

"Remember to wave, honey", she told him, while raising her hand to the people.

While the royal couple greeted the public, the carriage approached to the Royal Palace, where the wedding reception would take place. It was an imponent building with more than a thousand rooms and surrounded by ellaborated gardens and artificial lakes. As the newlyweds arrived to the palace's gates, the Grand Master of the Court received them. He escorted them to the Grand Hall, where the King and the guests were waiting. When John and Irene arrived, they were received by an enthusiastic applause that lasted long after they reached their seats on the main table. Then, a courtier raised his voice to announce: "His Majesty the King!"

George IV stood up and and cleared his throat.

"Your Majesties, Your Royal Highnesses, Your Excellencies, dear friends,

"Today I have fulfilled a duty that, as an older brother, fell upon my shoulders. My beloved sister, Princess Irene, has made a sacred vow to spend her life with Prince John, the son of King Aksel and Queen Samia of Cyretopolitania. This is a truly happy occasion not only for both families, but for our countries, and we are glad to share it with our friends from Western Atlantic and all over the world.

"Princess Irene, you have lived in Brasland for a short time, but it has been enough to make a mark and earn you the affection of our people. As your King and brother I ask you never to forget your family and the land where you were born. The doors of this palace will always be open to you and your husband, and we hope to see you here very often.

"Prince John, I want to welcome you to our family. With this marriage I have not lost a sister, but won a brother. Although your life belongs to Cyretopolitania, I hope you will always have a place in your heart for Brasland. This country is now your home too, and this family is now yours as well.

"King Aksel, Queen Samia, I am proud to call you my friends. With this wedding, our families are closer and our friendship is stronger. I am certain that your son has chosen well and that my sister will be a worthy Crown Princess for your country. She carries with her the noble traditions of the House of Balkronn, and I trust she will live upon those values and the teachings received from our parents, King Paul and Queen Arabella.

"Your Majesties, Your Highnesses,

"May I ask you all to rise and join me in drinking a toast to the Crown Prince and Princess of Cyretopolitania."

OOC: This thread is for Western Atlantic players and invites only. To them we ask to send reps to the reception and hopefully get our characters involved in more political talks, intrigues, negotiations, etc.

[Cyretopolitania]

Markund, Kingdom of Brasland

Crown Prince John had approached his wedding with his usual air of confidence and restrained interest. At least he had until he had stood at the altar and seen Princess Irene in her wedding dress coming down the aisle. He had felt uncharacteristically overwhelmed with emotion and that had lingered well into the royal couples carriage ride through the streets.

“Oh,” he said to Irene as if stirred from some daydream, “yes,” he smiled taking his bride’s hand, “of course. Wave.” With his free hand and waved to the crowds, an oddly contented smile on his face.

After the carriage ride, John escorted Irene into the Grand Hall and their waiting guests. As King George stood to begin his toast, John and Irene - along with John’s parents, King Aksel and Queen Samia, and siblings - stood.

In deference to the Western heritage of their hosts, the Cyretopolitanian royal family dispensed with the elaborate robes and pharaonic crowns so well associated with their own court and dressed in a more conventionally Western Atlantic style. Crown Prince John, like his father the king, wore a white dress army uniform with ample amounts of gold braid, medals and ribbons. With his uniform the king wore the simple nine-point golden crown set with rubies known as the Crusader Crown after the short-lived foreign dynasty that had ruled during one of the crusades. Queen Samia wore an elegant silk dress in light purple with shimmering gold and silver details and a gold crown similar to her husband’s. Prince Agizul wore a simpler version of his older brother’s uniform and Princess Illizabith wore a light rose-colored silk dress.

As King George spoke of the friendship between the Braslander and Cyretopolitanian crowns, King Aksel nodded and smiled. At the conclusion of the toast, he raised his glass and said, “To the Crown Prince and Princess!”

Once everyone had taken a drink from the toast, King Aksel lifted his glass again. “Your Majesties, Your Highness, Friends and Family: I commend King George for his devotion to his sister, our new daughter Princess Irene, and for his unparalleled hospitality as our host on this most joyful of occasions.

“King George, you have made us feel at home in your kingdom and we are honoured to count you not only as a dear friend of the Cyretian crown, but as family.

“Princess Irene, we welcome you into our family and look forward to welcoming you to your new kingdom - Cyretopolitania. You are now truly our daughter and blood of our blood.

“John, my son, we have never been prouder of you or happier for you.”

The king turned and surveyed the assembled guests. “To the new couple! May they ever be blessed with peace, prosperity and loving family!”

[Excalbia]

Emperor David IV rose for the toasts somewhat shakily and though his family and attendants gave a few anxious looks, they allowed him to rise and steady himself on his own. Although he was clearly thinner than he had been, his color had returned and he seemed generally healthy and happy. Dressed in his white naval uniform with the Sword of Alsgood at his side, the Excalbian Emperor still made for an imposing figure. He traded a smile with his wife, the Empress Elizabeth, as they lifted their glasses for the toast.

Seated with the Emperor and Empress, Princess Rebecca and her husband, Duke Andrik, and Prince James stood for the toast. Crown Princess Joseph, now serving as Regent during his father’s long convalescence, had chosen to remain in the Citadel with his family to preside over the seemingly endless struggle to forge a new coalition in the Imperial Senate.

Rebecca smiled broadly, anxiously awaiting he opportunity to speak with the new couple and to renew her acquaintance with some of the other notables in the room. Her younger brother James, however, looked slightly bored and adrift without his friend, companion and cousin Tarik and tugged on the sleeves of his black jacket.

[Brasland]

After lunch (the wedding had been a morning event), the guests had the opportunity to mingle with each other. Princess Sophia, noticing the Excalbian guests on the other side of the ballroom, approached to greet them. She brought her younger sister Helena, as she thought Prince James would like to talk with someone closer to his age. The two princesses curtseyed at the Emperor and Empress, and Sophia exchanged some friendly greetings with them.

"Your Imperial Majesties, it is our pleasure to have you in Markund", said Sophia, smiling at the charming couple. "I met your cousin, Princess Hope, at the coronation of the Empress of Aerion, and I remember her fondly."

After they replied, she turned to Princess Rebecca and Duke Andrik. "Your Highnesses, I am very pleased to meet you. My aunt, Princess Maria Olimpia, attended your wedding last year and she had a very agreeable time in Excalbia."

Meanwhile, Princess Helena, a fifteen year old girl, looked at Prince James with some embarrasment. What would she say to him? She offered him her hand, as she had seen her older sisters when they were greeted by noblemen. "It's nice to meet you, Your Highness. What's your name?"

[New Chalcedon]

Royal Palace, Markund

Here on personal business, Lia of New Chalcedon (formerly Queen of Brasland and always mother to the bride) had nonetheless taken some time out of her retreat for the State duties she had always chafed at, but now found oddly comfortable. Eschewing her usual business suits (in her homeland, she was a businesswoman first and a minor Imperial princess second), she was dressed in a floor-length shoulderless royal blue silk dress, with gold embroidery at hem, wrists and bodice. Still slender and attractive at nearly fifty years of age (a rigorous regime of exercise and cosmetics left her appearance at nearly a decade younger than her true age), she devoted most of her time to her husband, the former King, who had returned to Brasland to see his daughter wed.

However, she still found time to mingle with some old friends among the haute couture of Markund - even a Queen as unpopular as she had not been totally friendless - and often drifted over to each of her children as the social event wore on, seeking to assure herself of their happiness - and in the cases of her two youngest daughters, their good behaviour. Blanche and Helena were still in secondary school, and had in fact not been born in Brasland (unlike Lia's four older children). Additionally, their relatively minor rank within the Empire (While Lia and the Empress Eirena were cousins, they were third cousins, and only the deaths of all four of Eirena's siblings in two bloody civil wars had given Lia any prospects of inheriting the Eagle Throne at all) had sheltered them from most State occasions - so they were "on holiday", "on duty" and rather inexperienced all at the same time.

[Excalbia]

After lunch (the wedding had been a morning event), the guests had the opportunity to mingle with each other. Princess Sophia, noticing the Excalbian guests on the other side of the ballroom, approached to greet them. She brought her younger sister Helena, as she thought Prince James would like to talk with someone closer to his age. The two princesses curtseyed at the Emperor and Empress, and Sophia exchanged some friendly greetings with them.

"Your Imperial Majesties, it is our pleasure to have you in Markund", said Sophia, smiling at the charming couple. "I met your cousin, Princess Hope, at the coronation of the Empress of Aerion, and I remember her fondly."

The Emperor and Empress bowed slightly to the two young princesses. “Your Highnesses,” David IV said with a smile, “it is a pleasure.” He turned, somewhat unsteadily, towards Princess Sophia. “Ah, yes. My cousin told me you were quite an impressive young lady.” As the Emperor spoke, Empress Elizabeth subtly slipped her arm around her husband’s arm, helping steady him.

“Your Highnesses,” the Empress said turning her head slightly towards her daughter, “have you met Princess Rebecca and her husband, Duke Andrik?”

After they replied, she turned to Princess Rebecca and Duke Andrik. "Your Highnesses, I am very pleased to meet you. My aunt, Princess Maria Olimpia, attended your wedding last year and she had a very agreeable time in Excalbia."

Rebecca smiled and gave a slight curtsey. “It is my pleasure, Your Highness. I remember your aunt quite well. I am pleased that she enjoyed the wedding and her visit to Excalbia. I must say that we,” she stole a quick glance at Andrik, “have enjoyed our visit to Brasland. Your country is quite lovely. In fact, we hope to stay for a few days after the wedding to see some of the countryside.”

Meanwhile, Princess Helena, a fifteen year old girl, looked at Prince James with some embarrasment. What would she say to him? She offered him her hand, as she had seen her older sisters when they were greeted by noblemen. "It's nice to meet you, Your Highness. What's your name?"

Prince James smiled as he noticed Helena’s embarrassment. She seemed a few years younger than him and her apparent shyness at the situation reminded him of some of his own more embarrassing moments. He took the princess’ hand, kissed the air above it – in what everyone in Excalbia called the Caldan fashion – and bowed deeply. “James, Your Highness,” he said rising from his bow. “Prince James, to be formal, but, please, call me James. And the pleasure is mine, Your Highness.”

[Brasland]

Rebecca smiled and gave a slight curtsey. “It is my pleasure, Your Highness. I remember your aunt quite well. I am pleased that she enjoyed the wedding and her visit to Excalbia. I must say that we,” she stole a quick glance at Andrik, “have enjoyed our visit to Brasland. Your country is quite lovely. In fact, we hope to stay for a few days after the wedding to see some of the countryside.”

"Perhaps you could visit my duchy of Lansborn in southern Brasland", proposed Sophia. "It's a quiet rural place near the mountains. Why don't you come? I have a lovely home, Speinburg Castle, and its doors are open for you. But I warn you: we Lansborners love to sing, dance and ride across the fields. It's not as quiet as you might think."

Prince James smiled as he noticed Helena’s embarrassment. She seemed a few years younger than him and her apparent shyness at the situation reminded him of some of his own more embarrassing moments. He took the princess’ hand, kissed the air above it – in what everyone in Excalbia called the Caldan fashion – and bowed deeply. “James, Your Highness,” he said rising from his bow. “Prince James, to be formal, but, please, call me James. And the pleasure is mine, Your Highness.”

Slightly more confident after James' friendly greetings, the princess replied.

"I am Princess Helena of Brasland, but you can just call me Helena. Don't let the courtiers hear it, though, as they're quite stuffy about those things. Would you prefer to see the gardens? It's much more fun than this boring ball and you can tell me about your country. Come on, James."

As her older sister was distracted talking to Princess Rebecca and Duke Andrik, Helena sneaked through the guests, inviting James to follow her. Although royal protocol did not cover princesses escaping from wedding balls, some of the courtiers certainly wouldn't approve to see the King's sister behaving in such way. But then, Helena had never lived in Brasland and royal protocol was not something she was used to. With a surprising ability, she reached the other side of the Grand Hall and dissappeared among trees and animal-shaped bushes.

[Excalbia]

"Perhaps you could visit my duchy of Lansborn in southern Brasland", proposed Sophia. "It's a quiet rural place near the mountains. Why don't you come? I have a lovely home, Speinburg Castle, and its doors are open for you. But I warn you: we Lansborners love to sing, dance and ride across the fields. It's not as quiet as you might think."

Rebecca nodded. “That sounds lovely, Your Highness,” she said. “Thank you for the invitation. I think we,” she gave a quick glance at her husband, “will take you up on your kind offer. It should be fun.”

Slightly more confident after James' friendly greetings, the princess replied.

"I am Princess Helena of Brasland, but you can just call me Helena. Don't let the courtiers hear it, though, as they're quite stuffy about those things. Would you prefer to see the gardens? It's much more fun than this boring ball and you can tell me about your country. Come on, James."

As her older sister was distracted talking to Princess Rebecca and Duke Andrik, Helena sneaked through the guests, inviting James to follow her. Although royal protocol did not cover princesses escaping from wedding balls, some of the courtiers certainly wouldn't approve to see the King's sister behaving in such way. But then, Helena had never lived in Brasland and royal protocol was not something she was used to. With a surprising ability, she reached the other side of the Grand Hall and dissappeared among trees and animal-shaped bushes.

James gave a conspiratorial smile. Helena seemed young to him, but everything else about the reception seemed rather boring. “Well, Helena,” he whispered, “then, let’s go.”

The prince followed Helena through the crowd and into the gardens beyond. “Hold up,” James called out as the girl ran ahead of him towards the trees. With a snort of impatience mixed with relief, he pulled off the coat he was wearing and the tie and took off after the princess at a full run.

[Brasland]

Rebecca nodded. “That sounds lovely, Your Highness,” she said. “Thank you for the invitation. I think we,” she gave a quick glance at her husband, “will take you up on your kind offer. It should be fun.”

As Sophia spoke to Princess Rebecca, some noises were heard around the Excalbian party. King George IV was approaching to the group, indifferent to the curtseys and nods from nobles and courtiers. He offered his hand to the Emperor in a firm, respectful way. George was a very tall man and seemed much older than his twenty-two would suggest.

"It's certainly a pleasure to have the Emperor and Empress of Excalbia in Brasland", said the young monarch. "Indeed, since before the war I've been meaning to thank you for the help your country provided to us, sir. The name of Excalbia is heard with approval in all the corners of my kingdom."

James gave a conspiratorial smile. Helena seemed young to him, but everything else about the reception seemed rather boring. “Well, Helena,” he whispered, “then, let’s go.”

The prince followed Helena through the crowd and into the gardens beyond. “Hold up,” James called out as the girl ran ahead of him towards the trees. With a snort of impatience mixed with relief, he pulled off the coat he was wearing and the tie and took off after the princess at a full run.

Helena looked back and saw James taking off his coat and tie. Smiling at him in a friendly way, she made a gesture with her hand to urge him to come. "Hurry before they start to wonder about us!"

When he saw him out of the palace, she ran through the gardens to a nearby fountain, on whose border she sat. Waiting for the prince, her hands played with the water, and she felt relieved for having managed to sneak away from the rigid Court atmosphere. She missed New Chalcedon terribly and hated this new world. Then she thought about her father, and the feelings were too strong to contain. Before she could control herself, she started to sob. Life was unfair, even for a princess.

As you may remember from the Cyretian thread, Braslander kings regard other sovereigns as their equals and, as such, they refer to them as "cousins" (and the chances of actually being related are not that slim). They refer kings or emperors as "Sir" and queens and empresses as "Ma'am". No curtseys or nods are needed between them.

[New Chalcedon]

From an upper balcony, Lia - who had known from the start how badly Helena was chafing at the rigid protocol of her older brother's Court - looked indulgently on as her daughter exited the room in the wake of the Excalbian royal. Some more variety in her social circle will be a good thing, I think, was her first thought. After a moment, she was aware of her husband's presence behind her. "She's your daughter all right, my love. Remember the first day we met, and you carried me away to look at your father's portrait? Still, it's worked out for us, hasn't it? A lifetime in your shadow.....if only it could have been so, Paul."

Her smile was bittersweet, for even though she and Paul had mended their long estrangement and were once again the lovers they had been when they married, they were both aware that his days were numbered, and that awareness stood next to them both, felt but never seen, like an unwanted guest.

As Helena burst into tears in the garden below, her mother stepped on her first impulse - to race down the stairs, run out of the room and gather her daughter in a tight hug. Helena was nearly an adult now, and needed to find her inner strength, or risk losing it. And on a more practical level, nothing would disrupt the party - or embarrass Helena - more than Lia acting the part of the smothering mother.

[Excalbia]

As Sophie spoke to Princess Rebecca, some noises were heard around the Excalbian party. King George IV was approaching to the group, indifferent to the curtseys and nods from nobles and courtiers. He offered his hand to the Emperor in a firm, respectful way. George was a very tall man and seemed much older than his twenty-two would suggest.

"It's certainly a pleasure to have the Emperor and Empress of Excalbia in Brasland", said the young monarch. "Indeed, since before the war I've been meaning to thank you for the help your country provided to us, sir. The name of Excalbia is heard with approval in all the corners of my kingdom."

Empress Elizabeth was watching Rebecca and Sophie make plans with a pleasant smile. She turned her head slightly as she heard the approaching commotion. Noticing the King approaching, Elizabeth gently nudged her husband’s arm and nodded in the direction of Braslander monarch.

David IV looked briefly at his wife, then followed her gaze towards the King. He bowed slightly as George IV approached and took the man’s hand when he offered it. Though still somewhat weaker than he had been, the Emperor tried to give the King’s hand a firm shake.

“Your Royal Majesty,” Emperor David IV said with a nod, “the pleasure has been all ours. Elizabeth and I have relished the opportunity to visit Brasland and we have certainly not been disappointed. Your country is lovely…”

“And," Empress Elizabeth seemed to continue her husband’s thought, "the wedding ceremony was quite lovely. The ball, of course, has been most delightful so far.”

“Indeed,” the Emperor said. “And, Your Majesty, I thank you for your kind words about the esteem in which your people hold our country. Let me assure you that Brasland is regarded with equal favor in the Holy Empire.”

Helena looked back and saw James taking off his coat and tie. Smiling at him in a friendly way, she made a gesture with her hand to urge him to come. "Hurry before they start to wonder about us!"

When he saw him out of the palace, she ran through the gardens to a nearby fountain, on whose border she sat. Waiting for the prince, her hands played with the water, and she felt relieved for having managed to sneak away from the rigid Court atmosphere. She missed New Chalcedon terribly and hated this new world. Then she thought about her father, and the feelings were too strong to contain. Before she could control herself, she started to sob. Life was unfair, even for a princess.

James ran faster at Helena’s urging. He was quite familiar with the art of evading palace handlers and took the young princess’ urgings seriously. He followed the girl through the gardens to the fountain.

As James approached the fountain, he froze and looked momentarily stricken as he saw Helena crying. Suddenly, he desperately wished that his friend Tariq were here. His adopted cousin had a natural charm and an instinctive way of dealing with women – ranging from other teens to older college-aged girls and beyond. Tariq would have known how to approach the crying girl, put her at ease and wrap her around his finger. James, however, had no idea what to do.

The Excalbian prince swallowed hard and did his best to put a pleasant though concerned expression on his face. He approached the fountain and sat down beside Helena. “Is there anything I can do? Are you alright?”

[Brasland]

James ran faster at Helena’s urging. He was quite familiar with the art of evading palace handlers and took the young princess’ urgings seriously. He followed the girl through the gardens to the fountain.

As James approached the fountain, he froze and looked momentarily stricken as he saw Helena crying. Suddenly, he desperately wished that his friend Tariq were here. His adopted cousin had a natural charm and an instinctive way of dealing with women – ranging from other teens to older college-aged girls and beyond. Tariq would have known how to approach the crying girl, put her at ease and wrap her around his finger. James, however, had no idea what to do.

The Excalbian prince swallowed hard and did his best to put a pleasant though concerned expression on his face. He approached the fountain and sat down beside Helena. “Is there anything I can do? Are you alright?”

As he saw the prince coming, Helena tried to dry her tears, but it was too late. He saw her and seemed to want to help her. She made a strange noise of frustration, avoiding looking at him. Her father's illness was kept as a secret by the royal family, as the former King Paul wanted to spend his last months quietly, without publicity. The princess tried to think of an excuse to explain her tears, but then the pain came back, though this time she managed to avoid more sobbing.

"My father is dying", she heard herself saying, to her own surprise. "I can't do anything to help him, and I hate it."

Then she looked at Prince James and tried to smile. "I'm sorry, James, I'm a stupid. Could you keep what I just told you as a secret? No one is supposed to know outside my family."

From an upper balcony, Lia - who had known from the start how badly Helena was chafing at the rigid protocol of her older brother's Court - looked indulgently on as her daughter exited the room in the wake of the Excalbian royal. Some more variety in her social circle will be a good thing, I think, was her first thought. After a moment, she was aware of her husband's presence behind her. "She's your daughter all right, my love. Remember the first day we met, and you carried me away to look at your father's portrait? Still, it's worked out for us, hasn't it? A lifetime in your shadow.....if only it could have been so, Paul."

Her smile was bittersweet, for even though she and Paul had mended their long estrangement and were once again the lovers they had been when they married, they were both aware that his days were numbered, and that awareness stood next to them both, felt but never seen, like an unwanted guest.

Paul didn't reply, as he knew emotion would overcome him. He just stood there, his arm wrapped around his wife. As he observed his little girl -though she was now fifteen, but for him she would always be his girl- with the Excalbian prince, Paul felt relieved that Helena was far too young for marriage. He wanted her and Blanche to be able to have a normal life, to study and travel. After that, there would be enough time for living in the shadows of their respective husbands.

[Katzistanza]

Home secretary Angelo Callis Papandreao felt like an impatient child who’s parents had dragged him to the wedding of some long-distant relative whom he neither knew nor cared to. Used to conducting business in his shirtsleaves, Callis was today wearing a grey jacket over his grey slacks and suspenders, adding to the feeling. Though Callis was a consummate professional, and would allow no trace of his annoyance to show, he deeply wished that George had sent Phemius instead. The Katzistanzan Foreign Secretary was more of a social animal, completely at home smoozing and networking with foreign dignitaries. Not that Callis was a stranger to such things, but in his capacity as Home Secretary, he was much more used to busting heads and TCB. He had told all this to George, but the Katzistanzan president would hear none of it. “This is a gathering of monarchs, of sovereigns” George had told him. “Sending Phemi would be akin to sending an ambassador. You are my right-hand man, the stewart of the Katzistanzan state. Only your office carries the authority necessary for this function.”

“Why don’t you go yourself, in that case?” Callis had asked.

“Because as a head-of-state, but not a monarch, I would be even more out of place than Phemi. We have to be very careful when dealing with our monarchic neighbors.”

So here he was, sitting in the hard wooden pew, watching the joining of two of the most powerful families in the Western Atlantic. George had been right, this wedding was quite the opportunity for both of the dynastic states involved, and for the Federal Republic, if Angelo did his job correctly. Brasland and Cyretopolitania were two of Katzistanza’s closest neighbors, and the Andrastos administration was quite keen on securing the Republic’s boarders through good relations with their geographical neighbors.

After the early morning ceremony came the reception. Angelo raised his glass when appropriate, his lean, severe face, backed by a tight crescent of close white hair, creased with an uncharacteristically warm smile. He was starting to get into the celebratory spirit, despite himself. With monarchic states, state functions were also a family affair, and even more so when the event was something as personal and intimate as a wedding.

After a light lunch, the guests began to mingle. As Angelo moved about the room, making small talk with the assembled guests and enjoying a glass of, frankly, the finest champagne he had ever enjoyed, he noticed his royal host, King George of Brasland, and a Braslandish princess speaking with the Excalibian emperor and several members of the Excalibian royal family. Absent was the current Regent and Excalibian head of state, Crown Prince Joseph.

A less tactful man may have taken it upon himself to make contact there and then, but Callis knew better. Neither royalty nor family, it would be presumptuous for the Katzistanza Home Secretary (known in some western nations as a Secretary of State) to interrupt a conversation between sovereigns. Having versed himself in Braslandish court etiquette, Angelo had already put in a request with the palace majordomo for a chance to speak with the monarch. If Callis had the young King George figured correctly, he would be magnanimous enough to come to the Katzistanzan tonight at the party. In the meantime, Callis continued to ingratiate himself with the other guests, hoping to make contact with movers and/or shakers within the courts of the Western Atlantic.

[Excalbia]

As he saw the prince coming, Helena tried to dry her tears, but it was too late. He saw her and seemed to want to help her. She made a strange noise of frustration, avoiding looking at him. Her father's illness was kept as a secret by the royal family, as the former King Paul wanted to spend his last months quietly, without publicity. The princess tried to think of an excuse to explain her tears, but then the pain came back, though this time she managed to avoid more sobbing.

"My father is dying", she heard herself saying, to her own surprise. "I can't do anything to help him, and I hate it."

Then she looked at Prince James and tried to smile. "I'm sorry, James, I'm a stupid. Could you keep what I just told you as a secret? No one is supposed to know outside my family."

James felt his throat tighten. “I’m,” he stammered. “I mean,” he paused and took a deep breath, “I am sorry, Helena. I really am.” The prince shrugged and looked into the fountain. “I’ve almost lost my father twice.” He started to reach out to the princess, then pulled his hand back.

“You can count on me to keep your secret; I won’t tell anyone.” James looked and Helena. “And if you need a friend to talk with, you can always talk to me. I know this must be hard for you.”

[Aerion]

Prince Faravindad Wasterin was a dashing Eastern Aerionian in his early thirties. He wore the dress uniform of the Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy with cerulean reeefer jacket, black slacks with ceruleon stripe. The jacket notably had a high traditional collar with elaborate golden weaving as in older naval uniforms. As Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy he wore elaborate gold shoulder epaulettes on the uniform, elaborate aiguillette, and gold sash belt. On the sleeves in gold filigree thread was stitched the bars of his rank in the naval style. A crown encircled with leaves over which were two crossed batons. Below that were five golden stripes above one notably thicker below. He wore the purple sash of the The Most August and Imperial Aerionian Order of the Purpure and the badge of the Order hanging from it on the right. On his right breast he also wore various medals and below the star of the Order of the Purpure, the Grand Cross of the Order of the White Wolf, etc.

The Pādshah Empress had sent her first cousin in her stead. His mother was the older sister to former King Wasterin X and the Pādshah Empress’s father.

He was the younger brother of Princess Jahanaray Wasterin, the Grand Mistress of the Robes. They wore perhaps two of the Pādshah Empress’s more favored cousins having grown up together.

Prince Faravindad had been amiable throughout the event, watching quietly. He seemed to particularly watch the more attractive women at the event, though did not ogle.

He had raised his glass, performed with appropriate etiquette, and now found himself sipping his glass at the reception. He was not particularly political, but the Pādshah Empress insisted on sending him because of his supposed charm. He was charming, but had the reputation for somewhat of a party boy and ladies’ man in the Grand Empire.

[Le Mont de la Lune]

The Grand Duke of Mont de la Lune His Royal Highness Alphonse IV had attended the wedding. He wore a traditional white tie tuxedo overlapped with the shiny silver sash with the badge of The Most Noble Order of Stella Maris hanging from it. The badge of the Order is a white-enamelled Maltese cross with white borders, each of the eight points ending in a gold ball (points boutonnées) and with a gold star between each adjacent pair of its arms. At the center of the badge is the image of crowned Stella Maris, or Our Lady Star of the Sea.

He was a thirty-dix year old French descendant man though with somewhat olive skin from other traces in his bloodline. He had sat through the wedding quietly, and observed the proceedings with his blue eyes.

He was very charming, and friendly. Often laughing. His aura was more of that of a polished businessman than royalty. He was not ashamed of his Grand Duchy's status as the playground of the rich & famous nor the fact it was a tax haven. He was quiet proud of it.

He was now at the reception sipping wine.

[Brasland]

James felt his throat tighten. “I’m,” he stammered. “I mean,” he paused and took a deep breath, “I am sorry, Helena. I really am.” The prince shrugged and looked into the fountain. “I’ve almost lost my father twice.” He started to reach out to the princess, then pulled his hand back.

“You can count on me to keep your secret; I won’t tell anyone.” James looked and Helena. “And if you need a friend to talk with, you can always talk to me. I know this must be hard for you.”

"Thank you," said Helena, now almost completely recovered, "I'm sorry about your father too, but now he seems well, right?"

Home secretary Angelo Callis Papandreao felt like an impatient child who’s parents had dragged him to the wedding of some long-distant relative whom he neither knew nor cared to. Used to conducting business in his shirtsleaves, Callis was today wearing a grey jacket over his grey slacks and suspenders, adding to the feeling. Though Callis was a consummate professional, and would allow no trace of his annoyance to show, he deeply wished that George had sent Phemius instead. The Katzistanzan Foreign Secretary was more of a social animal, completely at home smoozing and networking with foreign dignitaries. Not that Callis was a stranger to such things, but in his capacity as Home Secretary, he was much more used to busting heads and TCB. He had told all this to George, but the Katzistanzan president would hear none of it. “This is a gathering of monarchs, of sovereigns” George had told him. “Sending Phemi would be akin to sending an ambassador. You are my right-hand man, the stewart of the Katzistanzan state. Only your office carries the authority necessary for this function.”

“Why don’t you go yourself, in that case?” Callis had asked.

“Because as a head-of-state, but not a monarch, I would be even more out of place than Phemi. We have to be very careful when dealing with our monarchic neighbors.”

So here he was, sitting in the hard wooden pew, watching the joining of two of the most powerful families in the Western Atlantic. George had been right, this wedding was quite the opportunity for both of the dynastic states involved, and for the Federal Republic, if Angelo did his job correctly. Brasland and Cyretopolitania were two of Katzistanza’s closest neighbors, and the Andrastos administration was quite keen on securing the Republic’s boarders through good relations with their geographical neighbors.

After the early morning ceremony came the reception. Angelo raised his glass when appropriate, his lean, severe face, backed by a tight crescent of close white hair, creased with an uncharacteristically warm smile. He was starting to get into the celebratory spirit, despite himself. With monarchic states, state functions were also a family affair, and even more so when the event was something as personal and intimate as a wedding.

After a light lunch, the guests began to mingle. As Angelo moved about the room, making small talk with the assembled guests and enjoying a glass of, frankly, the finest champagne he had ever enjoyed, he noticed his royal host, King George of Brasland, and a Braslandish princess speaking with the Excalibian emperor and several members of the Excalibian royal family. Absent was the current Regent and Excalibian head of state, Crown Prince Joseph.

A less tactful man may have taken it upon himself to make contact there and then, but Callis knew better. Neither royalty nor family, it would be presumptuous for the Katzistanza Home Secretary (known in some western nations as a Secretary of State) to interrupt a conversation between sovereigns. Having versed himself in Braslandish court etiquette, Angelo had already put in a request with the palace majordomo for a chance to speak with the monarch. If Callis had the young King George figured correctly, he would be magnanimous enough to come to the Katzistanzan tonight at the party. In the meantime, Callis continued to ingratiate himself with the other guests, hoping to make contact with movers and/or shakers within the courts of the Western Atlantic.

After a short conversation with the Emperor and Empress of Excalbia -they were gracious enough to understand that he had many guests to attend-, King George was approached by the Grand Master of the Court, who whispered something to his ears. George gave him a few instructions, and the courtier nodded.

Angelo Callis Papandreao might have seen Count Klaus von Innerwitz, the Grand Master, walking towards him. Innerwitz was a tall man with auburn hair and blue eyes, with an air of distinction very much suited to the scion of one of the great families of Brasland. With impeccable manners, he greeted the Katzistanzan Home Secretary.

"Your Excellency, His Majesty the King would like to have a word with you", he said to Callis. "Would you follow me?"

The two walked across the Grand Hall in the middle of the expectation of the Braslander guests, who did not know who the foreign man was, but were sure it was someone important enough to be escorted by the Grand Master. Count von Innerwitz, indifferent to the attention, opened a door which opened to a small private room. The King was standing behind a coffee table, and smiled to his guest. Innerwitz nodded at Callis and then closed the door, leaving the two leaders alone.

"Mr Papandreao, it is a pleasure to meet you", he said, shaking his hand firmly, maybe too firmly. "I believe you wanted to talk to me about something."

Offering a seat to Callis, he sat himself opposite to him. The King was a young man, but his eyes revealed a maturity beyond his age, as he had lived too many things on a short period of time. Exile, coronation, war, an early marriage, state visits, all those experiences had helped to shape the man who was facing the Katzistanzan dignatary.

[Brasland]

Prince Faravindad Wasterin was a dashing Eastern Aerionian in his early thirties. He wore the dress uniform of the Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy with cerulean reeefer jacket, black slacks with ceruleon stripe. The jacket notably had a high traditional collar with elaborate golden weaving as in older naval uniforms. As Grand Admiral of the Imperial Navy he wore elaborate gold shoulder epaulettes on the uniform, elaborate aiguillette, and gold sash belt. On the sleeves in gold filigree thread was stitched the bars of his rank in the naval style. A crown encircled with leaves over which were two crossed batons. Below that were five golden stripes above one notably thicker below. He wore the purple sash of the The Most August and Imperial Aerionian Order of the Purpure and the badge of the Order hanging from it on the right. On his right breast he also wore various medals and below the star of the Order of the Purpure, the Grand Cross of the Order of the White Wolf, etc.

The Pādshah Empress had sent her first cousin in her stead. His mother was the older sister to former King Wasterin X and the Pādshah Empress’s father.

He was the younger brother of Princess Jahanaray Wasterin, the Grand Mistress of the Robes. They wore perhaps two of the Pādshah Empress’s more favored cousins having grown up together.

Prince Faravindad had been amiable throughout the event, watching quietly. He seemed to particularly watch the more attractive women at the event, though did not ogle.

He had raised his glass, performed with appropriate etiquette, and now found himself sipping his glass at the reception. He was not particularly political, but the Pādshah Empress insisted on sending him because of his supposed charm. He was charming, but had the reputation for somewhat of a party boy and ladies’ man in the Grand Empire.

Aware of Faravindad's reputation in Aerion, King George was determined to keep his sisters away from him. Instead, he sent his aunt, Princess Maria Olimpia, who received the instructions just when she intended to greet Princess Rebecca of Excalbia, whose wedding she had attended.

Maria Olimpia was introduced by a palace chamberlain, who bowed at the prince.

"Your Imperial Highness, may I introduce you to His Majesty's aunt, Princess Maria Olimpia", said the man, who then retreated on his steps and turned around to disappear among the crowd.

The Grand Duke of Mont de la Lune His Royal Highness Alphonse IV had attended the wedding. He wore a traditional white tie tuxedo overlapped with the shiny silver sash with the badge of The Most Noble Order of Stella Maris hanging from it. The badge of the Order is a white-enamelled Maltese cross with white borders, each of the eight points ending in a gold ball (points boutonnées) and with a gold star between each adjacent pair of its arms. At the center of the badge is the image of crowned Stella Maris, or Our Lady Star of the Sea.

He was a thirty-dix year old French descendant man though with somewhat olive skin from other traces in his bloodline. He had sat through the wedding quietly, and observed the proceedings with his blue eyes.

He was very charming, and friendly. Often laughing. His aura was more of that of a polished businessman than royalty. He was not ashamed of his Grand Duchy's status as the playground of the rich & famous nor the fact it was a tax haven. He was quiet proud of it.

He was now at the reception sipping wine.

After a similar ceremony to the introduction of Faravindad and Maria Olimpia, a chamberlain introduced another of the King's aunts, Princess Maria Amelia, to the Grand Duke of Mont de la Lune.

"Your Highness", said the princess. "I believe this is your first time in Brasland. We haven't heard of your beautiful country very much here."

[Aldrykslynd]

The Dystrmunnae were named for Snaari Dystrmunn. The surname and that of the tribe itself meant "Grim Men," a group shaped by the frost-bitten northlands and ice-choked coastline that they called home. They were known as an unyielding people, reserved and generally the most quiet ones at any gathering, and the stereotypical Dystrmunn had, at best, a dry sense of humor. If they had one at all.

Perhaps it was unsurprising that many of these things fit Skyld Dystrmunn to a 't'. He was, in all practical terms, the tribe's patriarch, the father of its most powerful family, who claimed direct descent from Snaari himself. He was also one of the thirty electors who, together with the King, ruled the Confederation. And he was an extremely powerful and respected elector, at that, which was why he had been sent in King Naaryk's stead to show the flag, as it were, at the wedding.

He was a tall, muscularly-built man. The black in his hair had turned to grey years ago, but he had yet to become frail or weak; his mind was as active as ever. He still looked like he could pick up a smaller man and snap him in half, if the situation called for it and, more to the point, he looked like the sort who might have actually done it, years ago. He was weathered and beaten, his eyes seemed to have faded from their original bright blue to what was nearly a steel-grey, much like the hair on his head and his grizzled, well-trimmed beard. Like an old bear, battered but still fearsome in its old age. This was King Naaryk VI's closest advisor, his Kaanslur, and the man who had helped to line up the votes to make Naaryk the one wearing the Oaken Crown.

He was not alone, of course, but he was the ranking representative of the Oaken Crown. He was accompanied by his wife of 26 years, Gudrun, a woman who was about proportionally-sized to her husband; she looked like she would not have been uncomfortable leading raids of her own, had she been born in another age. As it was, she looked like a life of relative comfort might have softened her somewhat, but underneath, she was as iron as her husband. They shared a robust constitution, as they were both in their mid-sixties; in Aldrykslynder terms, that was practically ancient. Normal life expectancy would place a noble in their early fifties, on average, and commoners usually were lucky to make it out of their forties. The frozen north did not tolerate weakness.

They were further accompanied by two of their three children. Gudrun had bore seven children, in her younger days, but only three had survived to adulthood; infant mortality rates were horrific in many parts of the country. The three who had reached adulthood shared their parents' constitution, if not, in all cases, their heavy builds. Their eldest, Gretchen, was part of her husband's family, now, and had not accompanied them. This left their middle child, their son, Ankulfr, and their youngest, their daughter Ingryd. Ankulfr was not quite as large as is father, but shared his sturdy build and robust constitution. His hair was brown, like his mothers' had once been, and he'd inherited his parents' shocking blue eyes. He was in his mid twenties. Ingryd was somewhat more slightly build than her parents, although she too leaned towards a sturdier build, and was of about average height. She too had the same bright blue eyes, but had inherited her father's black hair. No observer would call her exceptionally beautiful, but neither could she be fairly called unattractive, and was in her early twenties.

They were all dressed in traditional Aldrykvulk formal attire, which looked like it might have belonged in distant centuries; the men wore heavy trousers and heavy leather boots, and heavy woolen tunics, and the women heavy dresses that were great for keeping warmth and modesty. In this case, they all wore the same general color pallet, which consisted of greys, a deep crimson, and dark blues.

And, perhaps most importantly, they felt in many ways lost. Just because it was a country in the Western Atlantic did not mean that contact with neighbors who weren't Balthorvian was a terribly common occurrence; Aldrykslynd, when it came to foreign affairs, more or less kept to itself, engaging in negotiations and diplomacy only as often as necessary, while half-limping along through its own myriad problems. Arguably, the problem was lesser for outgoing Ankulfr and Ingryd, who were looking for people their own age to converse with. Meanwhile, Skyld was wondering if some networking couldn't be done; he suspected that his country's long isolation was finally ending.

[Brasland]

The Dystrmunnae were named for Snaari Dystrmunn. The surname and that of the tribe itself meant "Grim Men," a group shaped by the frost-bitten northlands and ice-choked coastline that they called home. They were known as an unyielding people, reserved and generally the most quiet ones at any gathering, and the stereotypical Dystrmunn had, at best, a dry sense of humor. If they had one at all.

Perhaps it was unsurprising that many of these things fit Skyld Dystrmunn to a 't'. He was, in all practical terms, the tribe's patriarch, the father of its most powerful family, who claimed direct descent from Snaari himself. He was also one of the thirty electors who, together with the King, ruled the Confederation. And he was an extremely powerful and respected elector, at that, which was why he had been sent in King Naaryk's stead to show the flag, as it were, at the wedding.

He was a tall, muscularly-built man. The black in his hair had turned to grey years ago, but he had yet to become frail or weak; his mind was as active as ever. He still looked like he could pick up a smaller man and snap him in half, if the situation called for it and, more to the point, he looked like the sort who might have actually done it, years ago. He was weathered and beaten, his eyes seemed to have faded from their original bright blue to what was nearly a steel-grey, much like the hair on his head and his grizzled, well-trimmed beard. Like an old bear, battered but still fearsome in its old age. This was King Naaryk VI's closest advisor, his Kaanslur, and the man who had helped to line up the votes to make Naaryk the one wearing the Oaken Crown.

He was not alone, of course, but he was the ranking representative of the Oaken Crown. He was accompanied by his wife of 26 years, Gudrun, a woman who was about proportionally-sized to her husband; she looked like she would not have been uncomfortable leading raids of her own, had she been born in another age. As it was, she looked like a life of relative comfort might have softened her somewhat, but underneath, she was as iron as her husband. They shared a robust constitution, as they were both in their mid-sixties; in Aldrykslynder terms, that was practically ancient. Normal life expectancy would place a noble in their early fifties, on average, and commoners usually were lucky to make it out of their forties. The frozen north did not tolerate weakness.

They were further accompanied by two of their three children. Gudrun had bore seven children, in her younger days, but only three had survived to adulthood; infant mortality rates were horrific in many parts of the country. The three who had reached adulthood shared their parents' constitution, if not, in all cases, their heavy builds. Their eldest, Gretchen, was part of her husband's family, now, and had not accompanied them. This left their middle child, their son, Ankulfr, and their youngest, their daughter Ingryd. Ankulfr was not quite as large as is father, but shared his sturdy build and robust constitution. His hair was brown, like his mothers' had once been, and he'd inherited his parents' shocking blue eyes. He was in his mid twenties. Ingryd was somewhat more slightly build than her parents, although she too leaned towards a sturdier build, and was of about average height. She too had the same bright blue eyes, but had inherited her father's black hair. No observer would call her exceptionally beautiful, but neither could she be fairly called unattractive, and was in her early twenties.

They were all dressed in traditional Aldrykvulk formal attire, which looked like it might have belonged in distant centuries; the men wore heavy trousers and heavy leather boots, and heavy woolen tunics, and the women heavy dresses that were great for keeping warmth and modesty. In this case, they all wore the same general color pallet, which consisted of greys, a deep crimson, and dark blues.

And, perhaps most importantly, they felt in many ways lost. Just because it was a country in the Western Atlantic did not mean that contact with neighbors who weren't Balthorvian was a terribly common occurrence; Aldrykslynd, when it came to foreign affairs, more or less kept to itself, engaging in negotiations and diplomacy only as often as necessary, while half-limping along through its own myriad problems. Arguably, the problem was lesser for outgoing Ankulfr and Ingryd, who were looking for people their own age to converse with. Meanwhile, Skyld was wondering if some networking couldn't be done; he suspected that his country's long isolation was finally ending.

A short man, wearing the red uniform of palace chamberlains, appeared in front of Skyld Dystrmunn and his wife Gudrun and bowed to them.

"Your Excellencies, may I introduce to you His Royal Highness Prince Leopold", he said.

Prince Leopold, a tall young man, though more slender than his brother the King, greeted the couple.

"It's a pleasure to receive friends from Aldrykslynd", he said. "I believe it's the first time one of your kin visits Brasland."

Leopold is the King's only brother and first in line to the throne (if George dies, he would succeed). He spends most of his time serving as a pilot on an Air Force base in northern Brasland.

[Excalbia]

"Thank you," said Helena, now almost completely recovered, "I'm sorry about your father too, but now he seems well, right?"

James nodded, more in relief that Helena had regained her composure than confidence in his father’s condition. “He is still recuperating, they say,” the young prince said with a slight shrug. “But he is still not himself. My brother, Joseph, continues as Regent and my father shows little interest in resuming his duties.” He shook his head. “I’m not quite sure what’s going on,” he sighed.

[Brasland]

"Helena! Are you there?", a voice called from the distance.

Helena stood up, inspected any possible spots in her dress (there were none) and took James' hand.

"Come, James, it's my sister Sophia. Let's go back before they get nervous."

Princess Sophia saw her sister with the Excalbian prince, relieved that they were fine. She knew that Helena, having lived all of her life in a foreign country, had troubles trying to adjust to the Braslander court, but she was confident that time would help her to accept her position and live by the strict codes of the House of Balkronn. There was no other alternative, sighed Sophia.

"Where were you, Helena?", asked Sophia. "You can't run away of your sister's wedding."

She said this feigning to be slightly upset, only to make her younger sister realize that a princess couldn't escape from her duties. The truth is that Sophia wanted to help her, although her upcoming trip to Pantocratoria, which would last several months, would prevent her from being with Helena for a long time. Realizing her sister's embarrasment at her scolding in front of Prince James, Sophia softened her attitude.

"I won't tell anyone of your little adventure," she said smiling. "But don't do it again. Besides, the dance has begun, and you two make a very sweet couple."

The young princess gave her older sister a furious and embarrased look, avoiding James' face. When the three passed the door and entered into the Grand Hall, Helena curtseyed at the prince.

"Thank you, James", she said, kissing his cheek. "And goodbye."

Then, she disappeared among the crowds, walking fast so that he couldn't notice her rosy cheeks.

[Katzistanza]

After a short conversation with the Emperor and Empress of Excalbia -they were gracious enough to understand that he had many guests to attend-, King George was approached by the Grand Master of the Court, who whispered something to his ears. George gave him a few instructions, and the courtier nodded.

Angelo Callis Papandreao might have seen Count Klaus von Innerwitz, the Grand Master, walking towards him. Innerwitz was a tall man with auburn hair and blue eyes, with an air of distinction very much suited to the scion of one of the great families of Brasland. With impeccable manners, he greeted the Katzistanzan Home Secretary.

"Your Excellency, His Majesty the King would like to have a word with you", he said to Callis. "Would you follow me?"

The two walked across the Grand Hall in the middle of the expectation of the Braslander guests, who did not know who the foreign man was, but were sure it was someone important enough to be escorted by the Grand Master. Count von Innerwitz, indifferent to the attention, opened a door which opened to a small private room. The King was standing behind a coffee table, and smiled to his guest. Innerwitz nodded at Callis and then closed the door, leaving the two leaders alone.

"Mr Papandreao, it is a pleasure to meet you", he said, shaking his hand firmly, maybe too firmly. "I believe you wanted to talk to me about something."

Offering a seat to Callis, he sat himself opposite to him. The King was a young man, but his eyes revealed a maturity beyond his age, as he had lived too many things on a short period of time. Exile, coronation, war, an early marriage, state visits, all those experiences had helped to shape the man who was facing the Katzistanzan dignatary.

Home Secretery Papandreao gave a slight dip of the head when shaking the young king's hand, impressed with the grace of such a young man in such a position.

"Your Magesty," Callis addressed his host as he took his seat, "I wished to personally convey the deepest congratulations on behalf of the Federal Republic and the people of Katzistanza to you and your family on this blessed occasion. This is a pround day for your family and for your kingdom, and the Federal Republic is honored to have been invited to share in your joy."

[Knootoss]

Royal Palace, Markund

"Oh, oh, I just wish you could see what I look like, right now!", Leonard Levendig whispered excitedly to himself. "When I snuck in with the Knootian delegation, it was just suit and a square haircut. But now I'm wearing Royal Braslander finery. Even the waiting staff here dress like little nobles... I'm serving snacks, Imperial style!"

The neko-human hybrid wasn't exaggerating about the Braslander costume. The fancy, perfectly ironed pants could only just about serve to hide his tail, though his ears still sprung from a conservative, short and gelled up haircut. His hair had also been dyed a shade of brown to prevent easy recognition. Although the spunky Woogle glasses made the Junior Foreign Affairs & Lifestyle Reporter look just a little nerdy, the microscopic camera that had been built into them was crucial to his Royal Wedding Infiltration Plan [TM].

"This is the fanciest party crash ever", he whispered again as the Woogle-View Camera swirled over a silver tray with fingerfoods that Leonard was balancing precariously on the fingers of his right hands. As the young journalist looked from left to right, so did the camera move to take in the scene of the wedding reception. Leonard's vision lingered on a few of the more fancy dress uniforms, occasionally pausing to present one of the guests with a fancy snack of cheese or meat. After a few minutes, the camera steadied just a little bit as Leonard looked at a middle-aged couple. The wife was talking to some noblewoman in French, while the balding man was listening and (poorly) trying to hide that he was either bored or not understanding what was being said. He wore tuxedo that seemed just a little bit too small, occasionally tugging at it in a self-concious manner.

"Shh. It's Jan Willem Daatman, the Grand Pensionary, and his wife Irene. Looks like he's not enjoying himself very much", Leonard narrated quietly, when he thought nobody was looking. "Figures, though. Our Grand Pensiona really only speaks Dutch properly. His English is poor, and I don't think he speaks French at all. Oh my."

As the Knootian Head of State being awkward at parties wasn't a great visual, Leonard swirled away to try and offer some Royal or Imperial person a snack from his exquisite silver tray.

[Brasland]

Royal Palace, Markund

"Oh, oh, I just wish you could see what I look like, right now!", Leonard Levendig whispered excitedly to himself. "When I snuck in with the Knootian delegation, it was just suit and a square haircut. But now I'm wearing Royal Braslander finery. Even the waiting staff here dress like little nobles... I'm serving snacks, Imperial style!"

The neko-human hybrid wasn't exaggerating about the Braslander costume. The fancy, perfectly ironed pants could only just about serve to hide his tail, though his ears still sprung from a conservative, short and gelled up haircut. His hair had also been dyed a shade of brown to prevent easy recognition. Although the spunky Woogle glasses made the Junior Foreign Affairs & Lifestyle Reporter look just a little nerdy, the microscopic camera that had been built into them was crucial to his Royal Wedding Infiltration Plan [TM].

"This is the fanciest party crash ever", he whispered again as the Woogle-View Camera swirled over a silver tray with fingerfoods that Leonard was balancing precariously on the fingers of his right hands. As the young journalist looked from left to right, so did the camera move to take in the scene of the wedding reception. Leonard's vision lingered on a few of the more fancy dress uniforms, occasionally pausing to present one of the guests with a fancy snack of cheese or meat. After a few minutes, the camera steadied just a little bit as Leonard looked at a middle-aged couple. The wife was talking to some noblewoman in French, while the balding man was listening and (poorly) trying to hide that he was either bored or not understanding what was being said. He wore tuxedo that seemed just a little bit too small, occasionally tugging at it in a self-concious manner.

"Shh. It's Jan Willem Daatman, the Grand Pensionary, and his wife Irene. Looks like he's not enjoying himself very much", Leonard narrated quietly, when he thought nobody was looking. "Figures, though. Our Grand Pensiona really only speaks Dutch properly. His English is poor, and I don't think he speaks French at all. Oh my."

As the Knootian Head of State being awkward at parties wasn't a great visual, Leonard swirled away to try and offer some Royal or Imperial person a snack from his exquisite silver tray.

Princess Alexandra of Brasland was a legend in Markund. Not only she had made a new life for herself in New Chalcedon after decades of monotonous life in a convent in the mountain, but she was also famous for her bad-temper. Now, at eighty-four, the old ivy was still full of energy and hoped to make a few guests to feel uncomfortable during the course of the event. As she pretended to be listening to an Excalbian woman who insisted in calling her “cousin” (she later remembered that her aunt Clotilde had married the Emperor of Excalbia), Alexandra looked from left to right to see if there was any servant serving drinks. By chance, she saw one carrying a tray with food. The man had an odd appearance, but the strangest things were his ears. He also looked fairly young to be serving at a royal banquet, but then service in the palace was clearly in decay, thought the princess. Before the servant could give another step, Alexandra stopped him with his silver cane.

"Stop right there, young man", she ordered, giving Levendig a terrifying look which pretended to be nice. "You will bring me a glass of scotch on the rocks. Right now."

Instead of removing her cane –which was now blocking the passage of a few guests– she thought about something for some seconds, and then she decided to follow the young man and supervise that he did what she asked him. She winked at her Excalbian cousin, relieved from getting away from her and feeling only slightly guilty that she was leaving her alone. Then, she grabbed the man from his jacket and followed him.

"And I want it on the rocks, did you hear?", she insisted. "When I saw your face I knew you were one of those troublesome boys who never do what they’re asked properly. There are different ways of doing a scotch on the rocks and you might easily do it the wrong way…."

As she followed him and gave him multiple instructions, which revealed her incredible knowledge about all things scotch, some of the guests whispered to each other, finding the situation quite comical. Poor chap…

Alexandra is quite a character: a spinster elderly aunt who has a bad-tempered, authoritarian character (though she can be quite sweet when she wants....though it's never honest, of course). She is well-known for her love of scotch, and some suggest in low voice that she is quite mad. They're probably right, but who says that mad people can't be amusing?
Also, Excalbia, I hope you're not offended by the mention of an Excalbian woman (she could be anyone you decide). I just did it because few people in Brasland would dare to approach Alexandra, and only a foolish person or someone who has never been in the kingdom before would do it. The Excalbian lady fells in the second category.