Summit of North American Leaders (AMW Only)

[Chrinthanium]

The drab gray skies blanketed the city of Omaha like suffocating blankets heralding the coming snow storm. The hair on the Emperors head danced around in the cold northerly wind as he stood on the steps of the Imperial Palace. Never before was anticipation as great as it was this moment in time. The culmination of forgone weather reports generating nothing but disappointment finally showed signs of coming to fruition.

Flecks of white glided gently from the gray skies. The Emperor smiled like a child in a toy store at the flakes of snow as they began their descent from the heavens. Every year it happened; the first snow. Omaha, acustomed to the ravages of winter, could rest assured that winter was finally here.

Emperor Nathaniel IV walked down the steps of the Imperial Palace to the large, tree-lined horseshoe driveway that stretch for a mile to the road. Soon, all that he gazed upon, would be covered in a fresh blanket of white. Emperor Nathaniel IV always anticipated the first snow. This moment was his most favorite time of the year. However, he had more pressing matters demanding his time than the normal winter precipitation.

When he reached the driveway, he greeted the driver of the shiny black Lincoln Town Car that was stopped in front of him. From the read door appeared a middle-aged woman with shoulder length red hair that whipped in the arctic wind. Her khaki-colored trench coat controuing her figure as best a trench coat could. The sound of her heels clacking along the driveway could be heard from yards around.

"Your Majesty," she spoke in a low pitched female voice, "it's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Ms. Cromwell." replied the Emperor as he escorted her towards the steps to the palace. "It's been ages since we've worked together, and I am thrilled at having the privilege to work together again."

The pair ascended the long staircase to the Grand Archway enterance to the palace. Imperial Guards stationed on either side of the door awaited their entry before they closed the doors.

"We need to come up with an idea on how to strengthen our image around the world." stated the Emperor as they walked through the Grand Hall and into the Imperial Office.

"Your Majesty," responded Ms. Cromwell, "that's going to be easier said then done. For the first one-hundred and fifty years of the Empires existance, the world viewed us as nothing more than a tyranical nation with agressive policies towards the world."

"My point exactly." stated the Emperor as he sat down on the plush leather chair behind his desk. "The problem is that we're not like that anymore. Even California seems to be more willing to work with us."

"Yes," she interjected, "but at the same time they don't actively seek to meet with you as does no other world leader. Your view in the world comes from years of your family's more dynastic past."

"Tell me," the Emperor said with anticipation, "how do I change my perception in the world? How do I convince the rest of the world that the Empire has changed for the good?"

"Your Majesty," she said with a smile, "luckily in todays twenty-four hour a day news cycle, the image is changing, but many nations worry about so called monarchial systems. They fear that national policy can change as suddenly as a heart attack."

She continued, "People have to meet you before they can like you, Your Majesty. Sometimes even that isn't enough to convince those who look at you with disdane. You need to open yourself, and the Empire up to the world."

The Emperor sat in his chair processing the information being given to him. The more he thought about what was being said, the more he liked what he was hearing. The Emperor wanted the world to know he was no more a tyrannical leader than any of the elected leaders of the world.

"Your Majesty," Ms. Cromwell spoke, "maybe you need to call a summit of North American leaders to discuss your ideas on an American alliance."

The Emperor thought a moment. "Ms. Cromwell, how can I be sure than anyone will attend?"

"That is up to those you invite. I suggest that you make sure every one of your neighbors receive this invitation. They will already be suspicious of your intentions when the receive the invitation. Don't allow them to grow even more suspicious by not inviting them.," responded Ms. Cromwell.

"I love the idea," answered the Emperor, "I'll have my staff write the invitations and we'll send them out. Let's hope and pray people respond."

The invitations were written and sent out:

You are cordially invited to the palace of His Imperial Majesty Nathaniel IV to attend a summit of North American leaders. The goal of the summit is to promote unity within the North American continent, exchange ideas and information on creating a Union of American States to promote their shared defense, economic, and political ideals and to share technology to better ourselves, and the world. The summit will also reintroduce you to the new Imperial Federation of Chrinthanium, its culture, and its people.

Sincerely,

His Imperial Majesty,
Nathaniel IV

[Walmington on Sea]

Inside the small colonial house that was 23 Lime Crescent, a plump and balding middle age ex-banker was drowning in twice his usual number of boxes. Boxes containing stacks of papers covered with the minutiae of governance.

Prime Minister George Mainwaring had to go over the year's expenditures in order to confirm that his government's eighteen billion dollar budget had not been exceeded, sound financial leadership being a plank of the Whig Party's platform and one of the few things that really kept them ahead of the Tories and WIDs. Then there was the British defence aid budget, a good portion of which still had to be spent, and ideally on British products. The PM had to give his input a long overdue replacement for the army's Centurion and Mk3 tanks. Having managed to find room enough in the budget to see through his proposal, Mainwaring now had to begin the search for suitable candidates in a new work visa scheme supposed to address the country's labour shortage in view of its small population and growing income expectations, which were in opposition to the immense potential of primary industry given new petrochemical, iron, copper, and uranium discoveries, not to mention the traditionally important timber and fishing industries that now faced new challenges.

A communiqué to the Emperor of Chrinthanium had not been on Mainwaring's long worklist, but now finding out whether Vickers was still in business, and specifically the business of building tanks, would have to wait. The Prime Minister indicated his intention to attend the proposed summit. Walmington had a lot to gain in finding local markets for its treasures, and equally could be brushed aside without a second thought by continental neighbours one hundred times its population if its leaders were not careful to assert themselves and be noticed.

[Acadzia]

New York City, Acadzia

Prime Minister Peter Akwasi sat in his office, sipping his morning coffee and rifling through the letter that his assistant had already set on his desk for him, just as he preferred. Parliamentary memos, international communiqué, and letters from supporters and opponents alike were almost always the PM's reading material. He saved the paper for noon, generally.

He continued flicking through the envelopes, deciding which to direct his attention to first. A particular letter caught his eye. Bearing the official seal of the Imperial Federation of Chrinthanium, the letter was certainly out of place, and certainly more intriguing, than his regular morning reading.

You are cordially invited to the palace of His Imperial Majesty Nathaniel IV to attend a summit of North American leaders. The goal of the summit is to promote unity within the North American continent, exchange ideas and information on creating a Union of American States to promote their shared defense, economic, and political ideals and to share technology to better ourselves, and the world. The summit will also reintroduce you to the new Imperial Federation of Chrinthanium, its culture, and its people.

Sincerely,

His Imperial Majesty,
Nathaniel IV

Prime Minister Peter Akwasi read the letter, a jovial smile spreading across his face as he did. Just as he finished reading it the third time, the phone rang. There were three phones in Akwasi's office. His regular phone, one connected to the Acadzian Defense Command, and a third, direct-line to the King of Acadzia, Jordanus Nicolas VIII

"Hello, Your Majesty! To what do I owe the pleasure?" answered Akwasi, setting the letter down. He took a quick sip of coffee as he waited for the response.

"I wonder if you received the same letter as I did this morning, Mr. Akwasi, from the Chrinthanium Empire?" came the young king's voice. Aged 24, the King was dearly loved by Acadzians, and indeed, perhaps one of the most intelligent and charismatic Acadzia had had in a while. It also didn't hurt that the young king and the 60-year-old Prime Minister saw eye-to-eye on most issues.

"I did, Your Majesty. I've yet to discuss it with my Cabinet, but I think it would be prudent to attend. It is rare for the Chrinthani to reach out like this."

"It most certainly is. Judging by the cordial wording, I don't think this is strictly a policy meeting, though there does to seem to be that aspect, too. What do you think, Mr. Akwasi? Should I attend as well?"

"Your Majesty, you certainly don't need my permission!"

"You're correct, Mr. Prime Minister, I don't. But I do want your advice. I don't want it to appear that I'm trying to influence the nation too much. Democracy is important, and it is you who is accountable to the nation, not I. Thank the Good Lord for that, by the way."

Akwasi flashed his white teeth in a wide grin and chuckled at the king's jest. "Well, I think it would prudent for you to attend the social functions. If you're concerned about taking a heavy-hand in governance, perhaps you could head to the links during any policy meetings? Does the Chrinthaninum Empire have golf courses?"

This time, it was the Acadzian monarch who laughed. "I hope so. Excellent suggestion, Akwasi, I think I'll do just that. I will see you in Omaha, then?"

"You most certainly will, Your Majesty."

"Excellent. I must go now. May the Lord be with you."

"And also with you, Your Majesty."

[Iansisle]

David Juan Ewaa, president of California, stood back to admire his drive down the third hole at Torrey Pines. Gray skies obscured the ball for a moment, but then he picked it up crossing the line of the water. It landed solidly in the rough.

"Good effort, Mr President," said his chief of staff. She smiled -- a scary, predatory, smile -- and motioned him aside. Her drive landed just a few yards from the par-3 hole.

"Remind me why I even bother playing with you, Catrina?"

"You like to fund my expensive nights out on the town," she said. "What was the bet? Ten bucks a hole?"

"Much to my chagrin," said Ewaa, looking down at his ball in depressingly tall grass. It would take him at least three shots to make the hole, assuming everything went perfectly, while he had little doubt that Cat would knock in the easy birdie. "Remind me why you never wanted to pursue this as a professional career? I've seen your pictures from the UCT team."

"And miss all the fun of San Diego politics? Never! Oops, speaking of --" Her phone must have gone off, because she tapped her bluetooth. "This is Mendez...ah, hello Minister. Yes, I'm with the President now."

Ewaa, who had been selecting clubs, looked over curiously. He scowled when he heard the phrase "We'll meet you at the airport."

"I suppose we're going somewhere?"

"Chrinthanium. I guess the Emperor is hosting a meet-and-greet for North American countries. Acadzia and the Walmies are already confirmed to be attending."

"Wait, let me guess. It's being held in Omaha."

"You got it. Minister Barth will be meeting us at the airport in five hours."

"What's the weather in Omaha, Cat?"

Catrina took out her iPhone and tapped a few times at the screen. "First snow of the season is just falling now."

It was a gray day in La Jolla, to be sure, with the promise of some rain later that week, but the president and his staff were still just in light jackets against the sea breeze. Flying inland to somewhere with snow -- fine for ski trips to Mammoth, but not to live in -- was utterly disheartening.

"Well, at least there's some good news. We have to get packing; can't finish the game."

Cat smiled. "Fine. But you still owe me for this hole!"

[Chrinthanium]

The twenty-one year old emperor stood at his bedroom window with the same look that a child has when they see Santa Claus. Carefully scanning the outside, he could see nothing but virgin snowfall.

"Nate," responded the Emperors younger brother Ryan Patrick Thornton.

"Ryan," spoke the Emperor with gladness, "isn't this the most delightful scene outside."

"Uh," responded Ryan, "yeah. It's great. I think Peter said we received six inches with the forecast calling for a few more by tomorrow."

The Emperor continued his study of the snowpack. Omaha never seemed more beautiful to him than it did at this moment in time.

"Nate, I just wanted to inform you that have receives responses from Walmington, Acadzia, and California." Ryan approached the emperor with letter is hand.

"California, indeed." Responded the Emperor, "I can only imagine President Ewaa in a snow-covered Omaha when he'd much rather be enjoying that warm climate in San Diego. Do you know who from Acadzia will be attending?"

"Both of them." Answered Ryan. "Prime Minister Mainwaring from Walmington will also be here." Ryan paused a moment, "We're still waiting for our responses from Wesleyopia and the Trade Federation."

The Emperor turned his attention from the window to Ryan. He accepted the letters from his brother and sifted through them.

"I see that Senate President Jansen wishes to attend also. At least Indiana will get what it wants from this. Have any of our provincial governors responded to my requests?"

"Some have. Oregon, Idaho, and Walshington have responded. Gov. Demps of Michigan called this morning and confirmed." Responded Ryan.

"The news is excellent. It seems that fortune does favor our first attempt." The emperor walked from his bedroom window towards the bedroom door. Ryan followed.

"Now, find Ms. Cromwell. Inform her of the response to our gathering. Make sure she has the flags of all attending nations placed outside. We musn't ignore these details. The time for Chrinthanium to finally shine. Only the best for our guests..." The Emperor continued to speak ad nauseum about the details as he and Ryan marched down the hall towards the Imperial Dining Room for their morning breakfast.

The duo entered the Imperial Dining Room. This wasn't the formal Grand Dining Hall. This was part of the personal wing of the palace. There were no fancy decorations or ornate carvings. The impression was more of a traditional family home.

"Nate, I'm your brother not your personal secretary." stated Ryan as both he and the Emperor seated themselves around the dining table.

The table itself was simplistic without the usual trappings of Imperial wealth. Trays of sausage, eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, waffles and toast sent aromatic waves of steam into the air. The Emperors youngest brother, Peter, was already seated at the table.

"Ah, Peter, good morning to you." Spoke the Emperor as he was seated at the head of the table. "Feeling better today?"

"Well," answered Peter somewhat unsure, "not really. Doctor Bollinger said I still have a fever. I think that it will be over in a few days."

"Maybe you should stay in bed today. The guests will be arriving. You need to be healthy for tomorrow." Said the Emperor, "It's not a problem if you cannot go sledding with me today."

"What, and miss out on smokin' your ass?" Answered Peter with zeal. "Never!"

Ryan chuckled as he spoke, "I doubt that you'd win. You're like one-hundred pounds soaking wet. I, on the other hand, being the biggest one, shall win by virtue of gravity."

The Emperor spoke up, "It's not a race. It's just a bit of fun. Of course you both know this means I am going to have to beat the pair of you."

The trio began to enjoy the breakfast that servant carefully made them. Ms. Cromwell strolled into the dining room while they ate.

"Your Majesty," she stated, "I have started the staff on decorating the palace. I hope you don't mind, but you may have to resign yourself to not barrelling down the unshoveled steps in a sled so we can clear them for the guests. I have requested that the groundsmen pile the snow on the south lawn for your frivality."

"Indeed, Ms. Cromwell, indeed." Answered Nathaniel. "It will be sweeter to beat them later rather than sooner. Come and join us for breakfast!"

"I've already eaten, but I thank you for your generocity," replied Ms. Cromwell, "but those hashbrown do look wonderful." She sat down next to Peter and helped herself to a plate with hashbrowns and a piece of bacon. "Also, please remember to behave yourself, Peter. You're seventeen and must learn to control yourself."

"Yes, Ms. Cromwell." replied Peter.

Helen Cromwell was charged with the duty of Imperial Nanny when Nicholas was Emperor. She raised the boys herself until they went to school. Now, with them all grown, she had been given the post of Imperial Social Secretary.

[Chrinthanium]

At the Imperial Airport of Omaha (RL-Epply Airport), crews were decorating the International Terminal of the airport. Flags from all North American nations were hanging from the ceiling. A red carpet stretched from the gate to where the International Terminal intersected the main terminal. The location made a perfect place for the Chrinthanian media to set up their cameras.

In the city, crews were busy not only decorating the city for the Christmas season, but they were also raising flags of Chrinthanium provinces along the Carter Lake park that formed the northern portion of the Imperial Palace grounds.

Back at the palace, the Emperor was meeting with his ministers discussing some business before the summit commenced. The Emperor, paying careful attention to detail, entrusted his ministers with the business of running the Empire while he was busy. He was only to be disturbed in case of National emergency.

The only problem he had was that he couldn't control the weather. Recent weather reports were calling for upwards of 6-12 more inches of snow this night.

[Iansisle]

Three people around the table groaned as the Queen of Spades plopped down on the table. Only the president, who had led the trick, had a club. Thirteen extra points: that put him well over one hundred, whereas Catrina Mendez had only a handful of points.

"Come on, Mr President," said Hendrick, one of his bodyguards. "You cannot have thought that playing a club was a good idea -- didn't you see all the others go?"

"I've never been much good at counting these, I'm afraid," said Ewaa. "The rest are mine, I assume." He tossed down the Ace and Queen of Hearts. "You'll see, given my other options, the seven of clubs seemed a reasonable bet."

"You took a couple points in one of those trick, didn't you, Mary?" said Mendez as she collected the cards. "Ah, I see I was correct. No moon for you, Mr President. And another sixty bucks for me." She collected the pile of bills from the center of the small table. "Another game, then?"

"Too rich for my blood," said Hendrick, standing up from the table. He worked the leaf, ducked through it, and took a seat farther forward in the cabin.

"How about you, Hank?" asked Ewaa, leaning out from his spot. "We could really use a fourth."

Henry Barth, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, looked up from his desk with a shock at being addressed so suddenly. The shock quickly turned to disdain.

"No, thank you, Mr President. I'm afraid my position leaves me with some actual work to do." He waved one of the sheets that he was perusing at the game table, then went back to staring intently at some clause or another.

"Suit yourself," said Ewaa. He had long ago stopped letting petty jealousies from 'his' ministers bother him. Sure the President of California was essentially a meaningless office, but he had been elected to serve a constitutional role, even when that meant working with the other party. "We'll just play this with three. Hand me the two of diamonds, Cat, and I think it's Mary's deal."

--------------------

Doubtlessly, many other countries would use an arrival as a way to show off to the other attendees. So long as nobody had been paying attention since the '60s, the Californian delegation would do that. The presidential airplane was an antiquated Lockheed JetStar II that still flew well, but had not been redecorated in twenty or thirty years. Bright pastel colors and shag carpeting predominated, along with lush purple curtains and faux wood for every available surface. But it still served, as the pilot put it expertly down in tricky conditions at the Imperial Airport.

[Chrinthanium]

Planes arriving at Imperial Airport would see the large aircraft that served as the Emperors personal plane. A Boeign 767 that was essentially parked at a private terminal on the northside of the airport. The plane itself was painted solid black with a shiny, slick look. On the bottom half of the plane were painted the words "Imperial Federation of Chrinthanium" in gold. The tail of the plane had the Imperial Seal. The seal was gold. On the outer edge of the seal were stalks of wheat with their heads entwined at the top, and their stems growing from the bottom center to form a circle. In the middle was a five-point crown, a rendition of the actual Imperial crown the Emperor wore at his coronation.

On the westside of the airport were the passenger terminals. People glancing from their windows on the left side of the plane would be able to see a digital sign that read "Welcome to Omaha." Beyond the terminal building, passengers would also be able to see the Imperial Palace from their view point as they landed.

The snow continued to fall from the heavens as if it were making up for lost time. The official snowfall measurement at the airport was 7.5 inches. The Imperial Weather Service noted that the temperature at the airport was a balmy 31 degrees fahrenheit. Weather reports indicated that the current snow storm would continue to coat the greater Omaha area in another 5-8 inches of snow before it was over.

Back at the Palace, the Emperor and his brothers geared up for their visitors. The Emperor was not afraid to pick up a mop or a broom to assist, but the Palace Housekeeping service often would respectfully request the Emperor to leave the job to those he paid. He resigned himself to dressing for the ocassion.

In his large bedroom, the young Emperor fretted over which would be the most appropriate attire to wear in which to receive guests. His wardrobe closet, which was the size of a medium bedroom in and of itself, appeared to be full of suits, dress shirts, dress shoes, casual attire, belts, and hats. His brother, Ryan, often would describe the closet as "a clothing store all to itself."

Inside the closet with the Emperor was Franklin James, the personal tailor of the Emperor.

"Your Majesty," spoke the elderly tailor, "I would suggest that you not be so frantic with picking out the perfect suit. Your Majesty looks fine in anything he wears."

"Franklin," answered the Emperor, "though I appreciate your kindness, I need honest answers. What do you think about a black suit, solid white dress shirt and black tie?"

"Are we attending a funeral?"

"No, but it is classic." The Emperor sighed. "I could wear the Imperial Suit."

"Isn't that a bit militaristic for this event? I beg your pardon, but I would not wish to be received by an Emperor wearing a black military uniform, decorated with service ribbons and a sword."

At that moment, Helen Cromwell entered the walk-in closet. The white gown she wore was an airy, pleated mesh lending graceful movement to a floor-sweeping gown with surplice V-neck. Crisscrossed pannels wrapped the waist to flatter the figure. She appeared as though she was a princess.

"Ms. Cromwell," stated Franklin, "I must say you look most ravishing in that gown."

"You like it?" she said with a smile as she gave a fashion-model turn for Franklin. "Your Majesty, I suggest you wear the tux. Not the usual tux, but the new one."

"Ms. Cromwell," relied the Emperor while sorting through his closet, "I'm not getting married either."

"Fine, then wear a native american tribe outfit and let your body show." she said with an air of sarcasm. "I doubt that whether you wear a tuxedo or a simple suit will matter not with the dignitaries."

"I understand your sarcasm, Ms. Cromwell, but this is more important to me than most people seem to understand," replied the Emperor. "I have to make the right first impression."

"I think that tribal outfit would make quite the impression myself," Ms. Cromwell said with a chuckle. "Just go with the new tuxedo. It will give the impression of your serious attempt to be formal."

"Ok, let us away with the peanut gallery. Time for me to change." The Emperor stated. Both Franklin and Ms. Cromwell exited the closet. The proceeded into the bedroom of the Emperor and sat on his canopy, king-sized bed.

"Ms. Cromwell, how come you never married?" asked Franklin

"Well, Franklin, to be honest, I never found the right man. My duties with the Imperial family kept me busy for almost 20 years. Do I wish I had married? I guess the answer is no."

"You are such a lovely woman, and if I weren't almost 75, I'd ask you to marry me." Franklin blushed after he said those words.

"Dear Franklin," she said with a smile, "that is the most sincere offer I have had in a while." She leaned over and gave him a kiss on his cheek. "You certainly know how to make a woman feel very happy."

"Ah, well. That came from spending all those years with my Maggie. She used to tell me that I had the words of a poet and the intentions of a schoolboy." He paused a moment, "The Lord saw fit to take her last year. You know it gets quite lonely at times. I guess that is why I am at His Majesty's beck and call now. Gets me out of the house."

The Emperor stepped out of his closet. Both sets of eyes stared at the well-dressed emperor. He was wearing a two-button peak lapel tuxedo coat with a slimmer, more updated lapel. The wool fabric was slimmer than the usual wool. His matching trousers were a single-pleat. Under his tuxedo coat he word a purple silk vest and purple silk tie. His black dress shoes were shined effectively.

"Your Majesty," stated Franklin with a smile, "you look to elegant."

"I must agree with Franklin, you're a doll in that tux!" agreed Ms. Cromwell. "Too bad you're gay."

"Thank you both, I hope the visiting guests approve," stated the Emperor as he walked over to his dressing table. He reached onto the table and removed a golden crown, fashioned similarly to the Roman Imperial crown with the exception that it was wheat stalks instead of olive vines. This was the crown the Emperor wore at all times. Some disliked the use of wheat in the crown, but the Emperor enjoyed the nod to the crop that Chrinthanium grows more abundantly than any other nation of which they were aware.

"The only thing to do now is await their arrival. If I remember correctly, the Californians will most likely be first. They'll want to beat the weather. Apparently snow is something of an oddity in California. I just cannot imagine not having now in the winter," said the Emperor. "The Walmington delegation will most likely be last, as they will spend a few hours making sure they don't go over budget. The Acadzians will probably be fashionably late. You know how they are in New York. Any news from our other southern neighbors?"

"Not at the present time, Your Majesty," responded Ms. Cromwell.

[Walmington on Sea]

Somewhere below in the vast proving grounds of Norbray a Vickers Mk.7 was being put through its paces in the harsh imperial climate, blasting away with the Rheinmetall smoothbore that General Sir Jack Jones had insisted be trialed against the British rifle that everyone naturally expected Walmington's next tank to carry. Some thousands of feet up, a locally modified Dominie navigation training aircraft of the RWAF carried a portly Prime Minister and a young heir apparent, George Mainwaring and Edryd of Newry.

The older man was disturbed by the younger's taste for loud music, some manner of rock and/or roll he thought, but was hardly inclined to challenge the king's only son on the matter, and so tried instead to make conversation, rustling his enormous copy of The Standard and saying something mildly derogatory about, "This new pope chap."

He hadn't much luck, and the long flight continued to the sounds of a shrieking Innu and his electric guitar. Fortunately The Standard had a number of suplements even on a week day, and once Mainwaring had his fill of what the Catholics were up to he was able to entertain himself with the little sense of satisfaction he got from knowing the Hibernia oil platform's production figures before everyone else who may be reading the same article at this moment. Last Thursday alone they got sixty-thousand barrels. The state's share in the project did make balancing the books considerably easier for the current administration.

There was even a pretty detailed continental weather report that allowed the Walmingtonians to know exactly what lay ahead in that regard. Rather a lot of snow, but the City of Walmington was expecting almost two feet of the stuff this month, so they ought to be able to cope.

At least the pilot of their twin-engine aircraft was accustomed to flying through and landing in less than ideal conditions, and nobody anticipated too much trouble as the jet black machine showed its maroon and gold roundels in the skies of a city thought to have a metropolitan population greater than the number of subjects in all the Godfreyite Empire, and without even being nearly the largest city likely to be represented by the assembly of statesmen whom Edryd and Mainwaring would meet.

With just a two man flight crew accompanying the Walmingtonians' head of government and the heir to their chief of state, virtually the entire -and similarly modest- embassy staff had battled through the snow to meet their compatriots and flesh out the numbers a little, the embassy's security officer insisting on being able to wear his Chasshire-Webley .38" double-action revolver for appearances sake, even if it wasn't loaded.

[Acadzia]

America Palace, New York City, Acadzia
Standing in the master-bathroom of America Palace, King Jordanus Nicolas VIII donned a modest, silver crucifix, and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. "I think it kind of looks odd over the tie..." he mumbled.

Queen Bridget, his wife, laughed. "Honestly, I don't think it matters, dear." She put a small diamond earring into her ear, and turned to her husband. "Unless you're trying to attract the Emperor?"

Jordanus raised a brow, "Come again?"

"He's a homosexual, and single from what I've read." Always the playful one, Bridget was. She grinned up at her husband, chuckling at the look on his face. He laughed back and embraced her.

"I've no eyes for other women, let alone other men," he kissed her forehead. "Besides, if I did decide to marry the Emperor, which one of us would rule?"

Slyly she replied, "And Emperor is above a king." Jordanus made to playfully reprimand her, but the telephone in his bedroom rang, distracting him. "One second, and then I'll be back to shake you for that comment." Her laughter tinkled behind him as he entered the bedroom, picking up the phone.

"Good morning! King Jordanus here," he chimed, sitting down on the bed and unbuttoning his suit jacket.

"Your Majesty, I have some unfortunate news," came the distinct, baritone voice on the other line. Prime Minister Akwasi. "I cannot attend the Summit in the Chrinthanium Empire. My Minister of Agriculture just took off in a peculiar hurry to bloody Saxemberg of all places, and four backbenchers are sick. I simply need to be in parliament."

"What? You're kidding. Akwasi - Peter, listen. I can't make policy decisions, I can't-"

"Calm down, Your Majesty. If it would be acceptable to you, I can send Elijah Krozenberg with you." Dr. Elijah Krozenberg was Akwasi's Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Foreign Affairs. One of Acadzia's few Jews, and perhaps its most infamous Jewish political leader, Jordanus didn't know Krozenberg very well, but he did know that the man was cold and calculating, and not as much fun as Peter Akwasi, despite the fact that Krozenberg was 20 years younger than the PM.

"He says he'll bring Miriam, his wife, if the Queen is going. Is she?"

"Yep, the doctors said it would be ok this early in the pregnancy for her to fly as far as Omaha and back. Do you have any idea how long this Summit is going to be? I need to be back in Acadzia in time for the Pope's visit."

"Obviously," chuckled the PM. "Unfortunately, I don't know how long the Summit will last, but I am sure Dr. Krozenberg can handle it if you decide you need to duck out early. He'll have his own transportation to and from Omaha, obviously. It'd be far too major a security risk to have the Deputy PM and Your Highness and Her Majesty the Queen all on one ship. Having just you and Her Majesty together on a plane is risky enough, if you ask me."

"Alright. Very well. Tell Dr. Krozenberg and Mrs. Krozenberg that Bridget and I cannot wait to meet them at the Imperial Airport."

Shortly thereafter, King Jordanus dialed one of his senior aides and informed her about the change of plans. "So, if you could please phone our Crinthani hosts that we'll be bringing the four of us, as well as eight Royal Guards and two ACIS agents. Thank you."
======================================================
St. Gabriel's Airport
"Ah, greetings Dr. and Mrs. Krozenberg," chimed King Jordanus as he shook the Foreign Affairs Minister's hand and kissed his wife's hand. The two looked off-put, and Jordanus surmised that they had expected to have to bow or something before him. Bridget smiled encouragingly at the couple, extending her hand to Dr. Krozenberg, and then kissing his wife on either cheek.

Krozenberg was a fairly handsome man, with shaggy, straight white hair and thin-rimmed glasses. He worse a black suit with a light-blue shirt and a black tie, and looked quite young for 40. Miriam Krozenberg was lovely, as well. About three inches taller than Jordanus' Bridget, Miriam had long, curly black hair and large, brown eyes, and wore a lovely periwinkle dress that matches her husband's tie.

The four exchanged pleasantries, discussed their children with some brevity, and then boarded their respective planes.

King Jordanus and the Queen would fly their private plane; a large 747 painted white. The seal of the king was emblazoned on the tail; a shield with a red Jerusalem cross on it, flanked by a golden bear and golden stag on either side. A crown sat atop the seal, and the motto of House Nicolas, and of Acadzia, "Deo Volente!" was written on the bottom. The top half of the plane was bright red, the bottom white; the official colours of Acadzia.

The Krozenberg's plane was similar. Payed for by taxpayers dollars, however, and it did not bear the king's seal, but the official seal of the government of Acadzia:

The two planes took off with just a 30 minute delay between the two, rising with little difficulty in the gentle, early December snowfall, and headed West, for Omaha.

[Wesleyopia]

The Executive Manison in Wesley, F.D.

President Lee McDonald was a short, older man in his fifties, greatly balding too. He sat in his office, an oval room decorated with the symbols of Wesleyopia, a great testament to Wesleyopia's proud history. McDonald was reading a newspaper, his reading glasses propped in his nose when an aide walked into his office.

The President looked down at the paper, his balding head shining under the light, and asked, "Charles, what do you want? I'm busy reading the funnies."

"Mr. President, sir, I mean, Mr. President," said the aide, a young nervous man who was still reeling from the tounge lashing the President gave him earlier because of an embarrassing mistake concerning a female Senator,"I have a letter for you. It's from Chrinthanium, the Emperor himself."

"What does that damn faggot want from me?" said McDonald as he took the letter, looking it over, his bald head was still shining.

"I don't know. The Secretary read it, I didn't."

"It seems his 'Majesty' wants me to attend a conference of North American leaders."

"So, are you attending sir?

"Why not? The Libertarians are always gaining ground, and they love the gay rights. This will reflect good when we try to push through the military budget increase next week. Ready Airforce One, and notify the Emperor's people I'll be there.

"Yes sir..."

***

Presidential Runway at Carlson Airport in Wesley, F.D.

Airforce One was the designation for all ships carrying the President at any time. The current ships used were normal civilian commercial aricraft outfitted to carry more fuel, weapons, and many extra security and surveillance devices than normal. On the outside was a stylized white Dove streaking across the entire side like a stripe, the rest of the plane was blue. On both sides were large bold letters:

PRESIDENT OF WESLEYOPIA

"I've always wanted to see some Chrinthanium winters. Whatever stupidity a leader can bring upon a country, beautiful weather can always help keep its image secure." said President McDonald, his nose red in the comparable mild Wesleyopian winter.

"Sir, it's time to get on the plane." said a large man in a black suit, a scarf around his neck blowing in the wind.

"You don't have to tell me twice. Is the hot cocoa ready?"

"Yes sir. I took special care to alert the staff to the need."

"Good, now let's go."

The President and his bodygruards boarded tha plane. With a large roar the jet engines fired up and the plane took off, streaking across the sky. Only time could tell what this meeting would bring, but for sure something about President McDonald, a very informal man in a formal office, would be shown to all who would attend.

[Chrinthanium]

While showing off his tux to Ms. Cromwell and Franklin, the Emperors cell phone rang. He walked over to his dressing table and answered the phone.

"Yes, Carl?......they are?......... McDonald? That's excellent news. Thank you."

The Emperor walked over to Ms. Cromwell, "apparently President McDonald will also be here."

"I wonder what he has to gain politically by this visit. From what I understand, he's not exactly pro-homo." She replied.

"It matters not to me," answered Nathaniel. "I am sure he will be cordial, and polite as all politicians are."

"By the way, have the town cars and limos waiting at the airport. No foreign dignitary will be waiting around in Omaha for a car. Police escorts. Have the Praetorian Guard lead the way...." And onve again the Emperor spouted off, ad nausuem, about the attention to detail.

This was going to be a long day.

[Iansisle]

Dress was also very much on the mind of the Californian delegation, although less attention was paid to how a certain garment would look than to how warm it would be. Formality was perhaps out the window when one considered who was involved; one of Ewaa's campaign promises had been that he'd never wear a tie. It was said in jest, perhaps, but it was a promise that he intended to keep, more out of personal preference than political considerations. Like the other members of his staff -- Catrina Mendez, his chief of staff, Henry Barth, "his" Foreign Minister, and his bodyguards Robert Hendrick and Mary Iwate-- the president was bundled up in an enormous jacket and thick, multiple-layered trousers. If any locals saw them, they might assume that the Californians were preparing to scale Mt Everest, perhaps, or walk to the North Pole. Granted, in the minds of most who grew up in San Diego, Omaha may as well have been the Arctic!

President Ewaa completed his ensemble with a watch cap pulled low over his ears and overlapping his jacket. The front was emblazoned with the symbol of the San Pedro-Long Beach Unified Port Authority, the largest container port in California and quite possibly in the whole world.

"We ready?" asked Iwate, her voice muffled the enormous scarf around her neck. "Jeez -- even the handle is cold!"

"Just open the thing," growled Hendrick. She did, and the cabin was briefly filled the the most appalling gust as the warm air inside met the frigid air without. But before they could register the cold, a band outside struck up 'California, Here I Come' and the presidential party forced their way down the steps of the JetStar one at a time to the national anthem. There were a few handshakes and whatnot exchanged but, all in all, the Californians would be happy the sooner they could be shoved into a car and taken to someplace not outside.

[Chrinthanium]

Once the Imperial Federation Marine Corps Marching Band finished playing, a man stepped out of the two black limos waiting at the Airport for the Californian delegation. The sargeant of the band marched over to the first black limo and opened the door. A young man stepped out of the limo as the song ended. As the man appeared, the Sargeant of the band shouted, "Attention!" Followed by, "Present, Arms!" Each member issued an immediate, crisp salute in perfect unison. The sargent then spoke again, "Presenting His Imperial Highness, Ryan Patrick Thornton!"

Ryan stepped out of the limo, his black trench coat catching the falling snow while his black hair waved in the cold windy air. He had a young face to attest to his age of nineteen. He would appear to the average person as a frat boy with his clean-cut looks. He turned towards the Sargeant and returned the salute, which was not quite as crisp as the Marine Corps. Turning his attention to the Californians, who appeared to him as being ready to freeze to death, he walked over to the President and extended his hand in friendship.

"Mr. President, members of the Californian government, I welcome you to Omaha and the Imperial Federation of Chrinthanium! Let's get you into the limos where you can find hot chocolate and coffee awaiting you." Once the greetings had been exchanged, Ryan ushered the delegation into the second limo, followed by himself.

After everyone was seated, he turned to the driver and stated, "To the Palace." The partition was raised, giving the delegation some privacy as the motorcade began making its way towards the Imperial Palace, just a few miles away.

"I apologize for all of the pageantry. That was my brothers idea. He likes to make the right impression on people," said Ryan as he offered the delegation some coffee. "We only have about a ten minute ride to the palace, but if you have any questions, please feel free to ask."

"I will give you some advice about the palace. The palace is guarded by two types of guards, Imperial Guards and Praetorian Guards. Both are made of members of the Imperial Marine Corps. They serve similar roles, but there is one major difference. Imperial Guards protect the palace, Praetorian Guards protect the Emperor and his family." And with that, Ryan await any questions.

[Iansisle]

David Juan Ewaa returned the handshake as best he could with the thick leather gloves -- a relic of his days riding to political rallies on his trusty restored Triumph Speed Twin -- and was glad that he wasn't asked to return any military salutes. Outside of the air shows, military pageantry in California was almost non-existent and Hollywood war movies were constantly panned in the more militaristic parts of the world for being incapable of rendering a proper salute.

"It's a pleasure to meet you in person, your Highness," said Ewaa. "Allow me to present --"

"Mr President, I believe I can speak on behalf of the entire staff when I say introductions can wait until we're in the limo," cut in Cat Mendez, her hood pulled close around her head. Despite that, Barth looked a little put out, as the sole representative of the government itself didn't want to wait for his introduction. But he didn't say anything to that effect.

"Of course," said Ryan, flashing a grin across his young features. "We have cocoa and coffee waiting for you inside."

Inside, the president introduced his companions -- including "Mr Barth, my Minister of Foreign Affairs" -- and was sure to find himself a seat near a vent, where he flexed his newly ungloved hand in front of the heat.

"Well, it certainly did make an impression," said Ewaa. Barth glanced at him with furrowed brow. "A good impression," the president clarified. "And I must say how happy we all are to be in Omaha, weather notwithstanding. Your brother's invitation was most welcome."

"Especially with fifteen holes left to pay, er, play," said Mendez. Her hands were wrapped around a coffee mug.

[Chrinthanium]

"Minister Barth, Ms. Mendez, it is indeed an honor to meet you." replied His Highness. "I will admit to you that I am not as formal as he is. In public, we can use the title of Highness, in private, please feel free to call me Ryan. Sometimes I wish that everyone could just call me Ryan." Ryan retrieved his cup of hot cocoa and started sipping it. He looked at President Ewaa with a smile, "I must say that my brother is really excited that you are here."

[Acadzia]

Queen Bridget thanked the Acadzian stewardess, and then began to eat the sandwich the stewardess had brought her. Beside her, King Jordanus snorted derisively, "They'll serve us cod and lobster on here, and you ask for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?" He shook his head and slid a bit of Brie from his knife to a wheat cracker.

"I've eaten thousands of PB&Js throughout my life, no need to stop now. Besides, it's probably better for the baby than just eating a couple crackers." She took another bite.

"I, unlike you, am saving room for some Chrithani food." He set the knife back down on the platter of cheese and crackers, and then gently shoved it away from him. "What will the Emperor think when he sees you picking at your food?"

The Queen's laugh filled the air, "Oh ho! You underestimate the appetite of a pregnant woman, my dear husband." To demonstrate her point, she took a huge bite from her sandwich, getting strawberry jelly on the sides of her mouth and a little on her cheek. She then grinned at her husband.

"I hope you get jelly on your suit," he chuckled. Absentmindedly, he shoved the cheese a bit further away from him. He was starving but knew that if he didn't check himself, he'd eat the whole platter. He and Bridget were both foodies to the max. His wife wore a bright red skirt and matching jacket, and diamond earrings in her ears. Her hair was drawn back in a tight bun.

The King himself had donned a black suit with a tie that matched his wife's suit. He had eventually opted to wear the crucifix, and it now hung on his chest.

As the plane touched down, the Acadzian monarchs prepared to exit their warm plane. Bridget donned a black cloak, a matching lace mantilla over her head and a red wool scarf, while Jordanus wore a simple felt coat that went to his knees, and a scarf matching his wife's. As they exited the plane, the Acadzian National Anthem blared from the Imperial Federation Marine Corps Marching Band.

"I just love this song, it never gets old," sighed Jordanus as he waved at those who had come to watch them arrive. Behind the monarchs, eight royal guards followed. They were dressed in red military suits with red berets, and a white sash over their shoulders.

The king and queen awaited their Crinthani hosts' greetings.

[Wesleyopia]

President Lee McDonald took a drink from his coffee, steam rising up around his face and fogging his reading glasses. He was almost finished reading another newspaper, the Richmond Times. He sat the coffee back down on a table in front of him onto a coaster. The interior of the airplane wasn't very amazing, but it was many times better than riding coach, as McDonald had many a time before the Revolution.

"Mr. President, we are coming upon our destination." said a voice from a speaker, it was the pilot.

"Time to get going Mr. President," said a man in a dark suit, sunglasses tucked away in a front pocket.

"Yes, yes, let me finish this article." replied the President, preoccupied with his coffee and newspaper.

After finishing his newspaper, and his coffee, McDonald buckled his seat belt and readied himself for landing. He looked over and saw, to his satisfaction, the Acadzian plan landing too. Acadzia was a beautiful nation, thought McDonald, even if they did have the filthy monarchs on the throne. At least they weren't gay.

"We've landed sir!" said his aide, Charles, excited to be out of the daily routine of newspaper retrieving and coffee making.

"I can tell, Charles," replied the President, "Today will be a day long remembered, we may very well change the political face of this continent. Or, of course, the whole thing could disentegrate because of our differences. Remember, we will not make the Constitution subservient to international law."

"Nevermind international law sir, I just can't believe being an aide for an oppressed dissenter in Parliament back in oh-two could get me this close to the heads of state of this many nations."

"And I never would have thought being a dissenter in Parliament could make me one of those heads of state."

As the plane landed the revelry began, with the Wesleyopian national anthem blaring loudly, the fast paced music was candy to the ears of the President as he stepped out of Airforce One. What wasn't candy to any of his senses, however, was the cold that immediately hit him. He had been advised to dress warmly, and he did. The layers of clothing protected his torso well, but his face was another story. Behind him his aide Charles came, holding a small gift wrapped in shiny blue paper. It was a token gift for the Emperor, their host. The President had thoght about getting him some fine cigars, but figured that something else would be in order...

[The RSU]

JOESEN SHOGUNATE
OFFICIAL COMMUNIQUÉ
FOREIGN OFFICE

TO: Nathaniel IV, Emperor of Chrinthanium
FROM: General Hiroshi Akutagawa, Executive Secretary for Foreign Affairs

Greeting to His Imperial Majesty.

While this may be stretching the definition of "neighbours" to its utmost limit, I would be delighted if a delegation from the Shogunate of Joesen would be enabled to attend the North American summit to be held in Chrinthanium. The Shogunate of Joesen has a great interest in the American market, and we are always eager to identify potential trading partners and ideologically allies. Indeed, perhaps there may even be interests shared by the Shogun and His Imperial Majesty.

With the permission of His Imperial Majesty, we would despatch a delegation straight away so as to be punctual.

Signed,

GENERAL HIROSHI AKUTAGAWA
EXECUTIVE SECRETARY FOR FOREIGN AFFAIRS
JOESEN EXECUTIVE NATIONAL DEVELOPMENT COMMITTEE
SHOGUNATE OF JOESEN

[Somewhereistonia]

Confederação de Florida
Foreign Office
Official Communique

We must apologise for our late reply to the invitation to join the conference in Chrinthanium. The majority of leading figures of the Trade Federation were busy in Miami to create the budget for the next four years. We also elected a new President, the venerable José Sócrates of Puerto Rico. The new Presidents first action representing the Trade Federation during this conference of North American leaders.

Whilst we wish to ensure that none of our trade partners are isolated or compromised by this treaty, we hope to be able to add a great deal to this conference as a body. We aim to secure long term peace, security and trade within the North American nations. José Sócrates will look to head to the Empire of Chrinthanium as soon as the conference in Miami comes to a close. Once again we apologise for this late response and we are grateful for the invitation.

[Iansisle]

"Ryan it is, then. At least, when your brother isn't around to think it uncouth of me," said Ewaa with a wink. He was more than twice the young man's age (and, as his wife had taken to jokingly reminding him, probably twice his girth as well), but he had gotten to the presidency mostly through his charm and easy manner. The schmoozers of the party were the ones who ran for president; the politicians were the ones who pursued cabinet positions. "It is a noble cause your brother has taken up," said Ewaa, sipping at his own coffee as the motorcade hummed through Omaha. "Too often, we characterize Omaha, San Diego, New York, New Lisbon, and Wesley FD by their --"

"-- and Great Walmington," cut in Barth, a tad annoyed.

"Yes, yes, and Great Walmington -- erm, we characterize them by their differences, and not their similarities. With Wesleyopia's recent move towards democratization, I think we may find that we indeed have more in common than not."

The motorcade slowed to a stop in front of a building which the Californians assumed must be the palace, their destination.

[Chrinthanium]

"Mr. President, I appreciate hearing someone other than my brothers call me Ryan. Makes me feel like a kid." and he issued his patented smile after that comment.

The motorcade pulled up to the palace steps. "Welcome to the Imperial Palace!" He soon ushered the Californians from the limo.

It didn't look like a European palace. It wasn't ornately decorated. The palace would appear more like an overtly large mansion with a horseshoe lake behind it. It was somewhat understated with its light beige exterior and dark roof and only about three stories high. It may look simple, but once inside, the guests would realize just how efficient of a palace it truly was.

At the top of the steps leading to the palace doors stood 10 Praetorian Guards, five on each side of the walkway. At the base of the steps stood ten more Praetorian guards with a similar alignment.

The Sargeant at Arms of the Palace shouted, "His Imperial Highness, Ryan Patrick Thornton accompanied by President David Juan Ewaa of the Republic of California, Catrina Mendaz, and Foreign Minister Henry Barth."

Emperor Nathaniel IV stood awaiting the end of the introductions, in the falling snow. On either side of him were two Guards wearing a gray uniform with the Imperial Seal over their heart, and the Praetorian Seal over their right. The Emperor was wearing his black trench coat over his tux, which had a light dusting of snow over the shoulders to match his brown hair.

"Mr. President, welcome to the Imperial Palace and the Imperial Federation!" exclaimed a beaming Emperor. He extended his hand in friendship to the Californian head of state. "Let's get you all inside and out of this cold. I'd like to also introduce you to Ms. Cromwell, my Social Secretary, and the two gentlemen casting an ominous shadow over me are the commanders of the Imperial and Praetorian guards. General Salvadore D'Antonio on my right, commander of the Imperials, and General Philip Etheridge, commander of the Praetorians."

"Mr. President, Ms. Mendez, Minister Barth, a pleasure to make you aquaintence." spoke up Helen Cromwell with a smile. The 51 year old still had a figure on her, but the white trench coat she was wearing wasn't complimenting it.

Turning towards his Generals, the Emperor spoke, "Generals, thank you for your time, I know you are busy." Instantly, the Generals saluted the Emperor and proceeded into the Palace.

"Your Majesty," said Ms. Cromwell, "I know I can speak for the Californians when I respectfully request we continue the introductions while on our way inside where the warm air awaits our return."

"Follow me, my friends." said the Emperor as he gestured to the President to walk along side him. Once he and the President started walking towards the palace, the motorcade pulled away.


----------------

From: Emperor Nathaniel IV
To: Foreign Office, Confederacy of Florida

My dear friends,

Think nothing of it. I certainly understand when matters of state require attention. I look forward to meeting the newly elected President Socrates. Extend to him my warm wishes and congratulations. We shall save a place of honor for him.

Sincerely

Nathaniel IV

----------------------

To: General Akutagawa
From: Emperor Nathaniel IV

Honorable General Akutagawa,

Your communique brought gladness to my face today. While the summit is to discuss matters of continental importance, I certainly understand your willingness to initiate diplomatic relations. The definition of neighbors go futher than just sharing a border. Our shared interest in Pan-Pacific trade and diplomatic relations endears us to each others as neighbors of the Pacific.

I shall inform the delegations from the North American nations as to your visit.

Sincerely

Nathaniel IV

-------------------

[Chrinthanium]

As the King and Queen of Acadzia made their way down the steps from their aircraft, a rather large motorcade arrived which included 10 police cars, four limos, and four SUV's with the Praetorian Seal. The delegations from both Acadzia and Wesleytopia were both on the tarmac awaiting transportation to the Palace and out of the Omaha winter.

Once the Sargeant of the Imperial Federation Marine Corps Band ended his international serenade, he quickly snaped his unit to attention and rendered yet another perfect, crisp and uniform salute as the door to the first limo opened.

"Presenting His Imperial Highness, Peter Alexander Thornton!" shouted the Sargeant.

From inside the limo appeared a very young man of seventeen years of age. To the delegation, he must have looked like a high school kid. Dressed in a black trench coat, with black suit underneat and matching shoes, the Emperors youngest brother greeted the delegations.

"Your Majesties, President McDonald, representatives of Acadzia and Wesleytopia, it is quite an honor to meet you. Welcome to the Imperial Federation of Chrinthanium!" said Peter with a rather large smile. This was Peters first time ever greeting foreign royalty or heads of state. "Let's get you all out of the cold and into the nice war limos." Immediately he ushered the Acadzian and Wesleytopian delegations to the awaiting transportation.

"Your Majesty, King Jordanus," spoke the young Peter, "the first limo will be your security details. The President, Your Majesties, myself, Mr. Krozenberg, and Charles in the second limo. Mr. President, your security detail in the third limo, and the fourth will run empty."

After the delegations organized themselves into the limos, Peter gave the order to have the motorcade head towards the palace.

"I have some advice for you reguarding the palace. The Guards, both Praetorians and Imperials, will not speak to you if you speak to them. Please do not take this silence as an insult. They are under orders to only speak to Imperial family members and their commanders. You'll know the guards when you see them. The Imperials wear purple uniforms with the Imperial Seal over their hearts, the Praetorians wear black uniforms with the Praetorian seal over their hearts. Any other questions or concerns, please let me know." spouted Peter. Peter, being full of youthful zeal, had a tendency to ramble on at length.

[Walmington on Sea]

At the airport, with the little Dominie safely landed, the Walmingtonian Prime Minister and the heir to the throne disembarked in the company of the aircraft's captain, leaving the co-pilot in the cockpit while they tried to remain dignified. This was made difficult by the fact that the ambassador and his security officer had left their lumbering Stockley limousine somewhere in the carpark and headed into arrivals as if meeting one of the regularly scheduled flights.

Presently a narrow man with a grey moustache, wire-rimmed spectacles, black and grey suit and bowler hat was wandering about the fringes of a terminal in the company of a thicker little man wearing a revolver on his hip, which was bound to end well, while three other Walmingtonians tried to appear as if they weren't concerned about not being met by the pair. The Prince was doing a fairly good job of it, and one might almost believe that he really couldn't care less, while Mainwaring was talking entirely too much in an effort to appear at ease as he tried to decide what could be keeping the ambassador.

"Ah, well, we shall just have to leave him!" He joked. "Look, there are people all around, some will be here for us and we can't hold up a pan-continental conference for Ambassador..." And he stopped abruptly, realising that he'd completely forgotten the man's name. "Thurlow-Adnams, Prime Minister." Said the Captain, over his shoulder. "Yeees, I was wondering how long it'd take you to get that, Captain."

Mainwaring put his smile back on and prepared to meet the locals.

[Chrinthanium]

((OOC: WoS, if you would please write a book, because I would love to read anything you write. I feel very green in my writing abilities at this moment in time.))