A Wedding At Midsummer (Closed, ATTN Ajax)

[Allamunnic States]

[OoC: At long long last! The (long-overdue) thread is up. If you're interested in participating, please see the Sign-up thread (and keep in mind this thread is for the most part limited to members of The Cornellian Empire. In addition, please keep any OoC chatter there, as well. Feel free to post your party's arrival starting now! Also, big thanks to Ghant and Latin, who this post was written with.]

Fradrykhuld Palace, Near Rikardsburg
State of Staalmark, Allamunnic States

The rain had stopped. There were puddles all over the long driveway that snaked up the small mountain where the traditional seat of the Sproeks was located, but at least there was a promise of their disappearance as the day went on. In some regards, the weather was mirroring the mood of Gretchen Sproek, the second child of King Rodrik IV and Queen Jana of Staalmark. Clouds were breaking, and there was some hope that maybe she was not doomed to forever be on a sour note with her sister-in-law-to-be.

She glanced over at her brother’s fiancee, who had joined her in the long gallery on the palace’s eastern wing, facing the still-ascending sun. There was already plenty of bustle around the palace in preparation for the nuptial festivities, despite the fact that the wedding itself was a few days distant yet. A few of the guests had started to arrive and more were due in later that day, with the rehearsal dinner set for that evening.

Gretchen shuffled slightly, pulling her sweatpants up slightly to counter the way the loose sleep garments had begun sliding down. She had never been exactly plump, but Gretchen had been working out in preparation for Vitus’ wedding. After all, one never knew who they might meet at such an event. It always paid to look one’s best. After a long pause, watching the sun dry out the puddles, she cleared her throat and spoke.

“Alright, I’m game. So, Arietta, what was this plan you wanted to tell me about?”

Arietta was similarly dressed, though slightly different in an old pair of blue gym shorts and a t-shirt featuring some obscure psychedelic rock band, and her long red hair bedraggled by a day spent in indoor relaxation. “Alright, so here’s the deal,” she began to say ever so casually without making eye contact, rather picking under her fingernails. “Your brother and I negotiated, and we’ve come to an arrangement. I wanted my brother Charles in the wedding, and Vitus agreed to make him a groomsman in exchange for me making you a bridesmaid. I accepted this proposal...it wasn’t an easy one to make, because there’s a long line of girls I’d have wanted to be bridesmaids but instead it’ll have to be you. You cool with that?”

Ah, that’s Vitus, always sticking up for the family, Gretchen thought with inward amusement. She nodded, then, realizing Arietta was not looking, vocalized her agreement.

“That sounds great to me. And… thank you for doing that. I know perfectly well I’m far from your favorite.” That was an understatement. She was not sure that Arietta knew that she knew about the… delightful little ditty one of the Ghantish princess’s friends had made up about her. Truthfully, it had stung a little bit, but Gretchen was perfectly used to rubbing people the wrong way on occasion. Ari was hardly the first, but Gretchen had wanted them to hit it off, for her brother’s sake, if nothing else.

Then another thought occurred, and she gave a small chuckle. “So I’m going to hazard a guess that there’s another catch. Fire away.”

“Yeah, there is. First of all,” Arietta began to explain with mild amusement, “you will have to be in our little rehearsal dinner play, performing the role of Judas. In addition,” she tapped her chin this time, “We will require your assistance with the Bachelorette party. Also, no crab-ass-ness. I promise to be cool if you’re cool, but I won’t be happy if you fuck this up for me. Sound good?”

“Sounds fair to me. Judas, you say?” She mused for a moment, before glancing over again. “You’re not trying to get me to hang myself, right?” she asked, amusement of her own clear in her tone. “Anyways, consider it a done deal. I’ll try not to be too much of a wet blanket. Now, what do you want my help with, as far as the bachelorette party goes?”

...That was easy, Arietta thought with some skepticism. Far too easy. “Nah, I need you alive,” she sniggered. “You know this city better than I do. You know the venues, you know what’s good and all...you’ll have to be the pointman for the Bachelorette party, especially considering how naive some of the other bridesmaids are…”

Speak of the devil. Arietta’s sister Alexia walked somberly into view, entering the hall from the direction that they were heading. Like her sister she was fair, though that seemed the extent of the similarities. Alexia was taller, with long raven hair and deep blue eyes, and already formally dressed in a dark blue satin gown. When she saw ArIetta and Gretchen, she curtsied politely. “Gretchen...sister,” she said faintly, as though she were in a library.

Gretchen gave Alexia a deep nod of acknowledgement, low enough that it was almost a small bow. “Good morning, Alexia.” Gretchen shot a look at Arietta that silently asked how much her younger sister knew about the plot. “How are you doing this morning?” Ain’t she a little early on the sprucing? she thought, seeing Alexia’s attire. In truth, Gretchen actually liked the younger sister a little bit better than her future sister-in-law, even if she was often unsure what to make of her. Alexia’s arrival also made her wonder about what her own sisters were up to.

Or others, for that matter. The palace, on the outskirts of Rikardsburg, had gotten almost crowded, despite its size, over the last day or two, with guests, specifically those from the wedding parties. She knew several of her brother’s groomsmen had arrived even earlier, as they had embarked on a few nights of partying before that. Nothing on par with a bachelor party, but… they were similar in the same manner as a creek to a river. She was somewhat surprised they had not been ambushed by any of them, either.

“I am well, thank you,” Alexia said with a faint smile.

Arietta cocked her head and asked, “Look at you, dressed so nicely so early. Are you trying to impress someone?” she teased.

To this, Alexia grimaced and replied solemnly, “Mother’s always nagging me to appear presentable, just in case...I’d have been fine wearing a shift.”

“I’m sure. Well, you’ll be relieved to know that you’re no longer slated to play Judas,” Arietta informed her while looking her over quickly. “That honor belongs to Gretchen now.”

“...How splendid.” Though Alexia didn’t say anything, Arietta knew that her sister was relieved, and surely pitied Gretchen already.

Gretchen’s lips quirked at Alexia’s remark about appearing presentable. “You know, Mum’s always saying the same to me.” She glanced down at the sleep-wrinkled t-shirt and sweats she was wearing, indicating she did not always take her mother’s advice.

She was about to add something else when there was another set of footfalls. Moments later, Gretchen and Arietta’s mutual cousin, Crown Princess Marie of Onneria, entered the room. Marie was less than an inch shorter than Gretchen, but where Gretchen was naturally slender, Marie’s own relatively narrow build was betrayed by toned muscle and an athletic gracefulness that Gretchen lacked. That muscle and fitness was on display, since Marie had actually bothered to get dressed, but had chosen a sundress that left her arms and even shoulders mostly bare, while also showing off her legs starting just above the knees.

“Oh I know a plot when I see one,” Marie said cheerfully. “A conspiracy in the making, I see here,” she added, flashing a pearly smile at her cousins. “What’s cooking?”

Maybe it was just her imagination, but it seemed like there was a slight hitch in Marie’s step, like she was aching or stiff. Or maybe she was just seeing what she expected, since she knew that a certain Onneria Saints wide receiver had decided to take a well-timed ‘vacation’ to Rikardsburg that week.

“I’ll leave that to the lady in charge,” Gretchen said, returning her own grin.

Arietta sniggered at her cousin Marie and said, “What’s up slut? I figured you’d show up to my wedding walking bowlegged.”

Alexia’s face quivered slightly at her sister’s greeting of the Princess of Onneria. “Why sister, that’s no way to speak to a Princess!”

To this Arietta merely shrugged off Alexia’s concerned expression. “Well you know what mother always says, Alexia. You wanna get treated like a Princess, then you ought to act like one.”

“...I don’t think that’s what she meant by that,” Alexia shook her head in dismay.

“Boo, you whore,” Marie drawled back. “I bet you’re just jealous. I know Vitus’s parents have been watching him like a hawk. I bet you’re not getting any right now.” A smirk had appeared and become fixed to her face as she answered. “So aaaanyway, what have you all been conspiring about?”

“Gretchen’s in the wedding party now,” Arietta informed her cousin with a certain dryness in her voice. “I was letting her know, and giving her the scoop on the play. She’s excited to be taking on the role of Judas. And, my sister Alexia here was walking around aimlessly, as usual.”

Alexia stiffened her back. “I was not walking around aimlessly...I was admiring the architecture of the inner facade.”

“...Who does that? Besides old people?” Alexia was often the punchline of many of Arietta’s cruel jokes, though for some reason she felt the need to go easy on her, perhaps because it wouldn’t look good if she gave her too hard of a time. “Sometimes I wonder if we even have the same mother…”

“I doth confess that I oft wonder the same,” Alexia agreed in her finest speech.

“I dunno, it is rather… picturesque,” Gretchen opined, with the smile of someone knowingly stirring the pot.

Marie cocked an eyebrow at her maternal cousin, and shook her head. “If you say so, Gretchen. In any case, glad you’re on board.”

“What’s that? We don’t have the same mother though,” Theodora walked out to join the rest of the bridesmaids with her other sister Diana. Together, these two girls didn’t have the same mother as Arietta, but they shared a father. Theodora shared the look of to father - according to her mother at least. She had a pale skin that contrasted with her jet black hair. She had a deadpan face if she wasn’t making a point of smiling, though now she was smiling with her mouth closed, showcasing her full lips. This morning she wore a black designer top with her shoulders exposed and tight gray jeans with tears around the knees “I’m still in the wedding though right?”

“Don’t butt in, she wasn’t talking to you Thea,” Diana, the elder of the two girls, lightly elbowed Theodora. Diana smiled to all the girls in the room, dimples on each of her cheeks becoming apparent. She had a tanned skin, much like her mother’s, with dark brown eyes and hair of a similar shade done up in a braid to resemble a crown. Opposite her sister, Diana wore a much more cheerful face, always with a glowing smile. She moved to find herself a seat, brushing the ends of her summer dress against her legs to sit properly . “Good morning everyone.”

“...What a stupid question.” Arietta chastised her sister while laughing simultaneously. “You think I’d cut any of you bitches out? Besides, if I were going to cut out a sister, I’d probably start with Alexandra. She’s been shitty about this whole thing because I’m getting married first. She accused me of deliberately planning the wedding before her’s in August. I just wanted to get married when it was still at least somewhat warm, and besides, we can do all that Allamunnic Solstice shit,” she finished with a nod towards Gretchen and Marie.

Marie snorted. “What, you mean you didn’t for a moment consider that you’d be getting married before Alexandra? Never crossed your mind?” She sounded skeptical.

At the mention of the Midsummer Festivities, Gretchen and Marie both nodded vigorously. The summer solstice was an occasion for considerable celebration in the Allamunnic regions, usually done with copious amounts of alcohol, general debauchery, as well as street games, pageants, and competitions. It was, on the whole, quite a good time of year to hold any sort of celebration.

“Yeah, I’ve got some spots we can hit up in mind,” Gretchen said. “A few of the clubs in town get pretty wild this time of year.” She did not mention that they were far from her usual hangouts. She knew perfectly well that nobody would want to go to a pub for a bachelorette party, much less her sister-in-law-to-be. She would have to ask Kaarla or Kristina about that.

“You see? She’s making herself a useful asset to the bridal party already.” Arietta clasped her sister-in-law to be on the shoulder, and stretched her other arm out across her. “We have the whole of Staalburg at our fingertips, ladies. Just don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”

It took almost deliberate effort for Gretchen to not correct her that the city was called “Rikardsburg.” Moments later, two more of her cousins entered the room.

At first glance, it was hard to tell that Marie and Grace Izaaksunn were sisters. Grace was about two inches shorter than Marie, plumper (although not overweight) and curvier, and she was a brunette in contrast to Marie’s raven hair. Marie in many ways resembled the female form Allamunnic sculptors would carve into marble, whereas Grace bore a greater resemblance to the type of princess one might see in a children’s picture book, warm and welcoming, if not as precisely defined. And, par for the course, she had only dressed in the sense that she had grabbed her glasses off of the bedside table that morning, otherwise remaining in her fuzzy navy blue pajamas, brown hair piled into a messy bun.

“Heya, sis! Cuz…es?” The youngest Izaaksunn sister fumbled with word choice. Ophelia had promptly taken the initiative as they entered the room, and Grace had made no attempt to speak, being far more shy. “Woo, we’ve got us a par-tay in here!”

Grace was far from homely, but one might be forgiven for thinking she was, standing next to her younger sister. Ophelia was just shy of eighteen and shorter still, but was already easily the most attractive of the Onnerian princesses, combining Marie’s vivacious athleticism and Grace’s voluptuous warmth with a confident front. Unlike Grace, Ophelia already looked fantastic, even though she was in only a pair of swishy athletic shorts and a t-shirt, and her dark brown hair had fallen in a wavy sheet down her back. Knowing her, Gretchen thought, she had probably woken up looking like that.

“Yeah, Ophie, we do have a party in here,” Marie replied, rolling her eyes. “What’re you so chipper for? I mean, nobody’s in the dumps here, but damn, kid. Calm down,” her words betrayed by a grin.

“She’s so chipper because I’m getting married, and because she knows that I will be nearer more often,” Arietta boasted with self-amusement. “Although the party hasn’t really started until we’ve started drinking and getting high...it’s already past due on that front. The way the world is now, it’s never too early for any of that either. Everybody’s all high strung, I swear, but not me, not us and not here, amirite?”

Alexia curtsied to the other girls as they entered, and to Ophelia she smiled and said, “good morning your Grace, you look radiant.”

Arietta narrowed her eyes in the manner she did when she was feeling mischievous. “Yeah, I’m especially looking forward to Nathan’s Hamlet jokes. What’s the one he always says…”

“Lady, shall I lie in your lap?” Alexia recited the line. “I often hear him speaking lines for future use.”

“Aye, that’s the one. He also likes to say, ‘Get thee to a nunnery; why wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners?’ I don’t know why, but I think that one is hilarious.” Arietta couldn’t help but chuckle a bit after saying that. What was Aunt Caroline thinking when she named her Ophelia? Surely she had to expect a lifetime of Hamlet jokes…

“Let me tell you, the ‘Lady, shall I lie in your lap?’ one is really awkward coming from family,” Ophelia said with a sigh. “Of course, they all wear a tad thin after you’ve heard them for the millionth time. Luckily, everyone at school only knows me by my middle name,” she said. “Maybe I should just use that, all the time,” she muttered somewhat darkly, her original good humor sinking somewhat.

“Oh, Ophie,” Grace finally chimed in, voice mellow. “It’s a lovely name. Besides, it’s so fitting, for a theater student!” Ophelia rolled her eyes, although now there was at least a smile accompanying it again.

It was at that moment that another young woman emerged from down the hall. She was dressed in a teal kimono robe, walking barefoot along the floor. Statuesque, with long dark brown hair nearly black, and with a blunt in her hand, she waltzed up to the group that had since been congregating in the hallway. “Please tell me we are not talking about Shakespeare,” Anastasia said bemused. “It’s too early for that.”

“No, talking about Nathan,” Theodora poked her head up from her phone, which she had been staring at nearly since the moment she found herself a seat. She didn’t look away from her phone for long as it pulled back her attention. “And those terribly cheesy jokes or pick lines he uses.”

“...I thought there was some test regarding women talking about something other than a man with other women,” Anastasia teased her cousin.

Alexia raised a finger sagely. “The Bechdel test, which asks if a work of fiction features at least two women who talk about something besides a man.”

“Thank you Lex, that’s what it was.” Looking around the group of young women, Anastasia took a drag of her blunt and added, “but hey, talking about men is so much fun…”

Ophelia rolled her eyes again, this time joined by Grace. Marie could only blush, somewhat embarrassed, since she half suspected, given the ingenuity of the paparazzi bastards, that anyone who did not know what she had been up to the night before would know soon enough.

“Hey, a little balance never hurt anyone,” Ophelia opined, after just a moment of pause. She was, mercifully, spared from further awkwardness by the arrival of her older brother, Aetius.

Aetius had hit something of a second growth spurt over the last few months, and was now even taller than their father, and his athletic endeavors at his college had clearly done at least some of their work in improving a skinny build into a toned, muscular physique. The awkwardness of puberty was starting to disappear, and the little imperfections that had marred him had cleared up and left a strong-jawed, clean-cut young man who Ophelia knew routinely turned heads among his female peers. Even through the objectivity provided by a sibling relationship, she could safely say her brother was extremely handsome.

His voice was clear and showed no signs of early morning hoarseness as he spoke: “Hello, sisters of mine…” he trailed off as he noticed the multitude of other young nobleladies. “M’ladies,” he added with a respectful nod, making eye contact with most of them. “Mother wanted me to let you know that the other guests were going to be arriving in the next thirty minutes or so, and to go ahead and make yourself presentable if you hadn’t already,” he said. The Onnerian prince was already in a light gray, summery suit that hugged his well-muscled figure and looked like it was none-too-thick for formalwear.

All three Onnerian princesses nodded back and exchanged glances, and the two younger ladies started walking, making to return to their quarters to make themselves ready to be seen by people they did not necessarily know personally.

Ophelia walked down the carpeted hallway from the long gallery towards the guest quarters where the Onnerian royal family had been housed for the occasion. The youngest Izaaksunn was noticing now just how long that hallway was, and how many rooms seemed to branch off of it, mostly guest rooms but the occasional common room or sitting room to be used by guests without disturbing the other residents of the palace. The decoration was somewhat outside the Allamunnic norm, ornate sculpted molding along the edges of the walls and rich golds, silvers, crimsons, and ebonies, in the shapes of leaves, fruit, trees, and other things that generally reminded a viewer of the forested mountain surroundings of the palace. It was a feast for the eyes even if many of their countrymen would find the whole thing a little bit gauche. But what was the point of having such wealth if one did not flaunt it?

The young Onnerian found the room she had been stashed in, a relatively small room (still with ample room) that shared a bathroom with an adjoining chamber (the one her eldest sister had been given), clearly designed with families in mind. As soon as she had swung the heavy oaken door shut and checked the lock, she wasted no time. She quickly undressed, tossing her discarded clothes haphazardly on the unmade bed, grabbing a towel and making a break for the bath. She made sure both doors in the bathroom were shut and locked, and turning the knob, stepped into the shower. The Sproeks could afford good water heating, and the water was already almost piping hot by the time she stepped in and slid the glass door shut behind her.

Ophelia lingered perhaps a bit longer than she should have, but while she was washing she found herself cheerfully singing a few numbers from A Lovely Lady. She only really got on task when she heard a sharp knocking at the door from Marie’s side, and a muffled voice.

“Mum says to hurry up! The other bigwigs are almost here!” she called through the door. That snapped Ophelia from her daze, and she finished up her washing a couple of minutes later, pushing the water off, completely forgetting to wipe the fog off of the glass, and running out into her room.

After hurriedly toweling off, she hung up her towel on a convenient rack, opened her suitcase and pulled suitably comfortable (and cute) undergarments out, putting them on with practiced ease before wandering over to the closet. She glanced around the room, all polished wood and cushioned shag carpet, and sighed. These were truly great accommodations, and she would absolutely enjoy the break from dormitory life (which, admittedly, she had insisted on experiencing). Turning back to the closet, she selected a sundress that specifically did not match Marie’s, opting for a white one with a flowery purple and yellow pattern (in contrast to Marie’s red-and-white-striped dress) and a pair of high-heeled sandals, sitting on the end of the bed for a moment to pull them on.

Brushing her hair and donning a relatively light helping of make-up took only a few minutes more, and Ophelia was able to step out of her room with her phone and keys in her purse in time for the festivities. She walked down the hall, slowed slightly by her choice in footwear, but still comfortable and graceful as she reached the front atrium, where the guests would be received. She looked around, noting that most of her fellow wedding party members were already present, and she slipped in next to Marie and Grace.

“Did I miss anyone?” she asked her elder sisters. Grace simply shook her head, but Marie actually answered.

“Nope. You’re just in time for the first arrivals.”

[Lacus Magni]

Latin Imperial Family
Allamunnic Airspace

“So I toe dragged around the defensemen and then it was just me and the goalie. I got down to the about right in front of the crease, put on the breaks and tapped the puck back between my legs like this,” Peter stood up and motioned the move. “Stopped and turned to face it on my forehand and ripped it right to the back of the net. By the time the goalie went to make a save his water bottle flew off the top of the net from the shot. And then I just cellyed.”

“That was your first goal?” Leo asked his Princely cousin Peter as he, Constantine, and their second cousin Justin Ulpius talked with him about his first season of junior hockey while they were nearly closing in on their destination.

“Second, but I think it was one of the coolest,” Peter smiled, and brushed his hair with a quick whisk of his hand. His dark hair was longer now than it had been before he went to play for Troezinope XK Achilleas in the Latin Major Junior Ice Hockey Association. While his older brother had blue eyes, Peter – and Polyxena’s – were a light brown, almost yellowish at times, with chiseled cheekbones and a rounding chin. “My first goal was the period before. A quick snap shot from the top of the circle. Took me four games to finally get a single point…”

“You finished rather strong though. And that’s really all that matters,” Justin Ulpius added. Two of the six Ulpii children were joining the Imperial party that consisted of all members of the immediate Imperial Family, with the exception of Emperor Jason VI Augustus and Prince Michael. With the Emperor remaining in Latium, Empress Marsella and Prince Constantine would be the chief Latin envoys at the wedding.

Justin Ulpius was the son of their father’s cousin and held the courtesy style Marquis Volaterrae as he was heir to the Dukedom of Vindóbona. He, and even his sister Theodora, remained some of the closer friends to Princess Maria and he was invited to come along with her as her plus one for the festivities, though she affirmed that it was just as friends.

“I remember one of the games I went to with Maria,” Constantine laughed as he leaned forward in his seat.

“When he got in that fight,” Maria added from the other side of the plane where she had been chatting with her sisters and Justin’s sister Theodora Ulpia. All the girls laughed while Maria walked over to join in Peter’s conversation.

“You handled him well though. He was what, a good head taller than you?” Constantine kept poking fun at his younger brother.

“At least, and I think I held my own…all things considered at least,” Peter didn’t appear to be amused and found his way back to a seat next to his brother with Leo seated across from them.

“Aye, that you did,” Constantine patted Peter on the back with another chuckle. “But you did win that nice shiner for your eye.”

Leo laughed at that, while Maria giggled slightly after having joined. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe some of the girls and ladies in attendance prefer a battle scar or two.”

“It could have been your big opener,” Justin added. “They would have all come up to you if even just to ask for the story, then you just mention you’re a hockey phenom and a prince to boot.”

“Or you know, just lead with that,” Peter stated plainly.

The plane was nearing its landing and Maria found her way back over to her seat between Justin and Leo, across from Peter and Constantine. The four men wore suits of black, gray, charcoal, and navy respectively, while Maria sported a Tyrian purple dress. “Girl advice from the three boys who don’t have girlfriends? Not sure I’d go down that road, little brother,” Maria joked and patted her Peter’s hand as it laid on the arm rest before taking her seat. “The girls won’t care one way or the other about whatever nonsense these two are spouting at you. Whatever they’re saying, don’t listen to them, Peter.”

“Harsh,” Leo couldn’t help but laugh at her jab.

“Ouch, that one stung, sister,” Constantine said jokingly, feigning injury.

“Ah, you wound us so,” Justin added along with Constantine and Leo.

“Oh hush, you three,” Maria smiled and turned to ignore them as she fastened her seatbelt as instructed by the pilot. “Just be yourself, Peter. That’s all you need to do.”

The plane began its steady descent to land, and all was well and calm until Leo felt a grip on his hand, pinning it to the arm rest. “Sorry,” Maria said nervously as she tried to loosen her hand from his. “This is the part of flying I don’t care much for.” She lifted her hand up, though the other was still glued to the other armrest. She looked more nervous than she knew she should be, but the Princess never cared much for flying.

“If it makes you more comfortable,” Leo replied just before Maria lifted her hand.

In the other seats of the plane sat Empress Marsella with her youngest son Philip buckled in right next to her. Philip was always irritable on flights, and Princess Olivia was doing her best to distract the little prince until the plane came to land at a stop. Across from her was Peter’s twin Polyxena. She was nearly sixteen years old now, born only minutes after her twin. The pair was of a similar height until recently, though Poly was much more thin and slender than any of her other sisters or mother. To round out the group was Lady Theodora Ulpia, Lord Justin’s elder sister and oldest child of The Duke and Duchess of Vindóbona.

Once the plane landed, the Latins all found their way safely off the plane and onto the tarmac where at least three SUVs were waiting for them. All the while, their plane’s staff and attendants helped gather any belongings the family didn’t keep on their person, and loaded them into the vehicles. The Empress, and all four of her children, Peter, Poly, Olivia, and Philip climbed into the first, with Constantine, Maria, Leo, Justin and Theodora entering the second with the third being used for their luggage and other items.

“So Leo…the first of your sisters to marry. I bet you’re excited to see your sister married, huh?” Maria asked Leo as the vehicle began to drive.

“Mhm,” he nodded with a simple smile. “I’m very happy for her.”

“Oh come on now, say it like you mean it,” Justin gave Leo a light shove with a laugh. “Pretty soon it will be Di and Thea. And maybe, if we’re lucky, one day we’ll even find you a girl to wed.”

They continued to chat some time until they arrived at the Fradrykhuld Palace. Upon stopping, the Latins exited their vehicles. Constantine was the first out of his, stepping right into a puddle causing the splash to wet his shoes. What a great start, he thought.

[Ghant]

“Of the Sea”
Fradrykhuld Palace, Near Staalburg
State of Staalmark, Allamunnic States

The Ghantish had invaded Allamunnika…though this time it wasn’t because of blood claims, or land or glory, but for a wedding. A wedding between Crown Prince Vitus of Staalmark and Arietta of Ghant, younger sister of the Emperor of Ghant. The last time the Ghantish nobility made such a showing in the Allamunnic States was in 1995, when Caroline of Ghant married the then Crown Prince Theodurik of Onneria. Thus, it was a special occasion indeed.

Of the Gentries, their House was well represented. Arietta’s Uncle Albert was in attendance, though not without some difficulty as he had to discuss his ability to attend with Stevan Grimmeburger well in advance, and had to convince the man that he was safe to enter the country. Albert was able to do this, but not without concessions. He was joined by his cousin-wife Isabel of Garza and their young daughter Adela. Albert’s estranged son King Edward of Zuri was in attendance with his betrothed, Lady Madi Pazua.

Then there was Arietta’s uncle, Prince Stephen, with his wife Lysa Baltkalns and their children Alysanne, her husband Suleiman of New Othman and sons Bashir and Amir, followed by Prince Alexander and his Edomite bride Princess Ava Shalmaneser, and lastly Prince Lucas and his Edomite bride Camilla Sharra. Next was Prince Richard’s wife Minka of Nekulturnya (Richard was barred from the country on pain of arrest), and their children Cassandra, Brian, Christopher and Cameron. Their sister Anastasia was already present in the bridal party. After them was Arietta’s youngest uncle Prince Mathias and his wife Valeria of Rome.

Among the great houses present in the city were the Dakmarans of Dakmoor, the Errauts of Arrautsa, the Caliens of Gaemar, the Gendulains of Gahen, the Lianus of Nathia, the Galans of Langael, the Gadeas of Gadea, the Grismarkas of Izotza, the Jehans of Jehenna, the Orinberes of Gauekoizarra and the Unbarrekos of Urd, with their respective spouses, siblings and children.

The Seven Lords of Ghant were present, an occurrence most rare among the Ghantish. Gorman Gorria, Luther Laranja, Bentos Horia, Garramun Berdea, Arthur Urdina and Antso Morea and their respective spouses and progeny were in attendance. The seventh of the Seven Lords was Raymond Zuria, Arietta’s grandfather. They all wore tunics and gowns reflecting their house colors…the Zurias wore white, the Gorrias wore red, the Laranjas wore orange, the Horias wore yellow, the Berdeas wore green, the Urdinas wore blue and the Moreas wore purple.

All of the great lords, ladies, kings and princes occupied different places within the city. The bride’s immediate family and bridesmaids stayed at the Palace, while others further removed from the Princess stayed elsewhere in the city. For many it was their first time in the country, let alone Staalmark. Such was the case for the poorly-traveled and oft-sheltered Princess Maraja of Ghant, and her trusted servant Aera. Like most of the Gentries they were arriving after the Emperor and his personal entourage, who had been in the country in advance of most.

Aera might not have been highborn herself, but she certainly dressed well enough to fool even the most prickly Ghantish nobleman. She wore her blonde hair long and wavy in a cascade past her shoulders, with faint blonde eyebrows above blue eyes like the sea on a bright summer day. That was the color of her dress as well, while Maraja went with dark blue. The Princess had long hair too, but was brown, and her eyes a lighter shade of blue. Aera had more common sense and coordination between the two, and the eccentric and clumsy princess often relied upon her servant to guide her, especially in strange settings such as this.

They had departed Maraja’s father’s estate in Abaza early in the morning, hoping to arrive in Staalburg before the evening. Traveling by plane, it wasn’t a long flight, and the two of them kept mostly to themselves rather then mingle with the other “lesser Gentries” that made up their traveling party, such as it was. Maraja’s father traveled separately with some other great men of Ghant, who was eager to cast his youngest child into the proverbial frying pan in the hopes that she would come out of her anti-social shell. As was the case with all of Grand Admiral-Prince Louis of Ghant’s children, he didn’t know Maraja especially well.

“Why do people in Ghant still call it Staalburg?” Maraja asked her servant as they rode in a sedan towards Fradrykhuld Palace. “And how in Gods name do you pronounce this palace? Is it Frat-rig-held?” With them were Maraja’s cousins Verena and Seraphina, too caught up in their own conversation about young lordlings that they possessed affections for. Maraja found such conversations droll.

“Let’s say someone decided to rename a person,” Aera poised a hypothetical situation to her charge. “Imagine, if you will, that someone came up to you and started calling you Joan, and insisted that everyone else call you Joan. Would your name be Joan, or would it be Maraja?”

Maraja laughed with curled back lips, not unlike a hyena. “What a silly question. My name would still be Maraja. That’s what my name had always been? Why would I let someone call me Joan?”

“Exactly my point,” Aera grinned in return. “Why would you let someone call it Rikardsburg, when its name has always been Staalburg?”

“Oh, I get it…well, I know they call it Rikardsburg in honor of Rikard Filus. Wouldn’t that make the Allamunnae mad if we call it Staalburg?” Maraja asked curiously.

“It might, but then again, everyone in Ghant calls it Staalburg, and what are they going to do? Get mad at the entire country? They can ill-afford to get testy with us, not with the likes of Rietumimark and Estovnia at their backs,” Aera explained. Maraja had a bad habit of not paying attention to international politics, but fortunately for Maraja, Aera did, and kept her informed of the goings on around the world.

“As for the palace, it’s one of those Allamunnic names, and those are hard to say and even harder to spell. If you must, just refer to it as ‘the palace,’ people around here should understand.” One thing Aera knew that Maraja had going for her was her knowledge of several languages, Allamunnic among them. Strange, how she’s never been here and yet she knows their language.

Maraja looked out the window as they began to conclude their arrival at the palace. “What should we do when we get inside?”

Aera scratched her chin and considered that for a moment. “Look for your cousin the Emperor, I suspect. He shouldn’t be hard to find. He’s usually where the women are.”

Once again, Maraja laughed with great giddiness. “Oh that’s so true! I pity his poor wife though. Sophia has great fortitude to tolerate his woman-mongering.”

That or she just doesn’t give a shit anymore. “Now remember that you will need to lead, since you are the princess of precedence here,” Aera instructed her. “I will follow your cousins in the back. Remember to observe your courtesies, there will be many great royals from around the world here, and you will be noted by them, and how you conduct yourself will be reflected upon your father.”

“My father,” Maraja grimaced as the sedan came to a stop in front of the palace, “is a crab-ass. I swear the older I get, the more impatient he becomes about me marrying off. I’d rather stay single then get married to some bloke just because he has a fancy title.” Maraja followed Aera’s instructions, and made her way from the sedan to the palace entrance in front of her cousins, with Aera at the back.

Sure enough, theirs was not the first party to arrive. Many of the Ghantish were gathered in the great hall, speaking amongst each other in small groups. Maraja’s cousin the Emperor was there with Empress Sophia and their four children and respective entourages, while others such as Cassandra and Albert were making small talk in another cluster. While Maraja’s cousins quickly dispersed into the throngs of people, Maraja quickly faded away into the back of the hall.

“No shame in being a wallflower,” Maraja told her servant off to the side. “Ever get that feeling of being overwhelmed when there’s so many people and you don’t know what you should do? Where to begin? Questions like that.”

“All the time,” Aera nodded, expressing some sympathy. For all the shit that people gave the Gentries, whether it was other royals, noblemen or common folk, Aera adored Maraja like a true best friend. Many people Aera knew disliked the monarchy and wanted it abolished, thinking the Gentries to be corrupt, inane and arrogant, and while that may have been true for many if not most of them, Maraja was the odd duck. In fact, if it wasn’t for the monarchy Maraja would be lost, Aera suspected. The institution provided both of their lives with some semblance of structure and purpose. “The important thing is that we are here…”

It didn’t take long for the Emperor of Ghant to circle around the great hall and come upon the two of them. Nathan and Maraja were not all that uncommon, aside from being members of the Imperial Family. The first cousins once-removed both had that aloof, yet quirky charm about them, a certain clumsiness and innocuous sense of self and lack of awareness. The Emperor had short, but thick reddish-brown hair and a light blue tunic and black boots, and a daughter in each of his arms. Sara, the older one was on his left arm, sitting with her arms wrapped around his neck, and the younger one Valerie on the other one, peering like a cat.

“Maraja Many-Tongues,” Nathan smiled as he kissed his cousin on either cheek. “And Aida, is it?”

“Aera,” Maraja answered on behalf of her servant. Nathan’s never been so good with names, Aera mused to herself. It would have been out of place to speak to the Emperor unless spoken to first, so she kept her mouth shut and let Maraja do all the talking. “You look well…as do the little girls. How many are there now?”

“Three,” he answered. “Blanche is with Dominique…their presence is a discreet one, as I’m sure you can understand.”

Maraja pursed her lips with squinty eyes. Aera knew that Maraja had a certain distaste for this Ohaide business, as did most of the Gentries, and the whole situation was tolerated at best. “Of course. Where’s Ari?”

“With her bridesmaids, last I heard,” he said as he tried to manage his squirming daughters. “Where’s your sister Daphne?”

“With mother and father.” Unlike Maraja, Daphne was more fearful of being on her own, and tended towards anxiety when traveling without their father. “Where’s Cassandra? Plotting in a corner I assume?” Despite her somewhat timid personality, Maraja wasn’t afraid to speak candidly with close family and friends, the Emperor included.

Nathan flashed a grimace for a moment, as though he were annoyed by his cousin’s joking barb. “She’s speaking to Uncle Albert over there. Would you like to say hello?”

“…The last time I said hello to Uncle Albert, he said I was starting to look fat,” Maraja shrugged casually. “As for Cassandra, she complains that I waste too much of time. Maybe I do, but at least I’m not wound up too tight. Why, I still remember many years ago when we were playing a game of Kerbasi, and when I beat her she flipped the board over and yelled at me for making her look stupid.”

By now the little girls seemed restless, and their father as well. “Well Maraja, I should keep moving. There’s a lot of people to meet and greet, and these little ones are making my arms tired.” With that he inclined his head and made his way past Maraja and Aera, leaving them alone in the throngs of people present.

“I think I annoyed him,” the princess shrugged while watching him leave. “Then again, don’t I always?”

“Didn’t you say it bothers him that your name is abstract?” Aera recalled as she tugged at the wrinkles in Maraja’s skirt in an attempt to get them out.

“He doesn’t care much for Esperanto. He thinks my name is stupid because it’s Esperanto for ‘of the sea.’ I think it’s a good name, because how many people do you know named ‘Maraja?’” she asked her servant soberly.

To that, Aera let crack a smile. “Only you, Maraja…only you. By the way, we should maybe see what everyone’s up to,” Aera suggested. “We don’t have to talk to everyone if you don’t want to, just observe, and listen. Try to catch-up on court gossip.”

“…but court gossip is so stupid!” the princess puffed out her lips. “It’s all just a big soap opera. I’d rather crochet or something…or maybe watch that music video on my phone of the professor that stalks one of his students who happens to be blind, only to find out in the end that she made a sculpture of his head in sculpture class.”

You would like that music video, wouldn’t you? “…On that note, who should we talk to first?” Aera looked around the room. “Your cousin Leo is over there, with Constantine and the Latins. Empress Marsella too…”

“Maybe later,” the princess yawned without covering her mouth, and tried to pick her nose discreetly. “Let’s just walk around and let come what may.”

“I’m game for that.” Aera offered Maraja her arm. “Come then, let’s go see who’s here and what they’re doing. Maybe if we’re lucky, you’ll see someone that catches your eye…”

Maraja sniggered at that and winced her eyes. “Martin of Dakmoor did, but I didn’t stand out enough in the end I suppose. Around here, they’d have to be made of chocolate with whipped cream and blueberries on top! Oh, I certainly hope there will be a chocolate fondue. I’d gladly get a little fatter if there was one of those here…”

“…You’re not fat, Maraja. You’re exceptionally well proportioned, like your mother says,” Aera pointed out in earnest.

“My mother also says she’s afraid I’m a lesbian,” Maraja laughed as she made her way through the Great Hall, with her trusted servant Aera on her arm. Oh, the things you say, and when you say them…

[North Rietumimark]

Dewedish Royal Family

Kralin, Deweden

A stunning orange canvas of a skyline shined brightly in the early hours of the midsummer morning. The horizon at this time of the day was ethereal, an exquisite piece of natural art for all to admire, despite station, rank, or economic status. It was a sky like none other, one which inspired poets, writers, and artists of all kinds. It was mornings like this the middle aged Princess Aleksandra would get up especially early just to gaze upon the morning sky.

Princess Aleksandra, although a natural early bird for as far as she could remember, wouldn’t normally wake up at four thirty in the morning and be up and about by early five, but alas, that was the position she found herself in today. For too often she found that there was never enough time in the day and on days like this it is especially important to squeeze every minute she could. For today was the beginning of the long planned wedding between Princess Arietta, her second-cousin, to Vitus, Crown Prince of Staalmark. Normally such events were attended by Queen Annabelle or Aleksandra herself as a representative for the royal family and Deweden. However, this wedding was different, for all of the royal family approaching marriageable age were required to go and dip their toes into the water.

The summer morning was still and quiet, broken slightly by the dull hum of their air conditioning unit - which had been forced to work over time amid a particularly nasty heat consuming Deweden and parts of northern Rietumimark in recent days. Temperatures had jumped from a ‘high’ of just under 6 celsius to 33 celsius nationwide - hotter than some countries well further south. Hundreds of thousands of Dewedish had opted to take an early vacation and a great many students recently out of school decided to enjoy the outdoors rather staying inside until it fully warmed up in mid-July. Indeed, the only Dewedish not suffering from the heat was those who’d spent some time aboard in a hotter part of Cornellia. Fortunately for Aleksandra and her family, the summer house along the western coastline they’d been staying an air conditioning unit built into the house before they’d purchased the property. It was a luxury unavailable to most of the populous, who previously didn’t believe buying an AC was necessary in cold Deweden; but for Aleksandra - it made all the difference in the world.

A perfectionist for her entire life, she’d spent several hours assiduously going through every details in preparation for the trip - making ensure that every detail was just right, that nothing would go wrong and that the royal family wouldn’t cause national humiliation during such an internationalist event. It was the first such that her eldest children - who’d previously had been sheltered by their parents from attending an event like this was - were poised to act as representatives for the crown. It was important for Aleksandra and her husband Prince Benedikt of Deweden for their children to start cutting their teeth in the world of dating and relationships - Deweden’s long term survival depended on forging stronger familial ties with other royal families and far more powerful monarchies. It was for that reason that Aleksandra fretted over the slightest detail in the Dewedish delegation’s time in Allamunnic States.

Beneath the feet of Princess Aleksandra the tiny figure of two and half-year-old Prince Ulf of Deweden moved around in the shadow of her chair, playing jubilantly with his favourite stuffed toy teddy bear on the warm wooden floor - cooing and gurgling as he did. The boy, much like his mother, favouring his Gentry roots, with long, wavy light brown hair, big light brown eyes, and strongly resembled his great-grandfather Prince Alexander of Ghant. Ulf had been the most high maintenance child of Aleksandra’s entire brood, requiring and demanding constant attention and adulation from whoever was looking after him at the time. If ignored for the briefest of moments, he had an annoying tendency of purposely crying for hours on end without reprieve just to punish everyone.

Princess Aleksandra was an older woman who’d recently turned forty-one years of age with wavy, reddish-brown hair swung back into her left shoulder, fair, unblemished skin, a broad mouth, and light brown eyes. Princess Aleksandra was the second oldest child of the late and notorious - especially among certain social circles - Queen Alara I of Deweden and her late husband King Nikolajs. Ostracised by many members her own extended family - especially her Rietumish side - because of her mother’s marriage to the son to one of the men who claimed and boasted about slaying Tsar Nicholas I of Rietumimark. Throughout her childhood, she evolved thick-skinned and developed no shit kind of attitude towards people and their problems; which curried little favour among Dewedish nobles and earnt her the nickname Is fyrstinde or Ice Princess. This was the quite the opposite to her older sister, Annabelle XII, who could be described as a people pleaser.

Facing the young Prince Ulf was his baby sister, the Princess Thora of Deweden, who sat comfortably in her play-pen supported by several green and red pillows. Little Thora was fast approaching one year old - far too quickly for her doting parents and siblings. Thora was undoubtedly a very cute little baby and starkly contrasting her older brother Ulf - with dark black straight hair and green eyes like her father. Princess Thora was clad in a sweet little pink onesie. She was an extremely low maintenance child - crying on seldom and perfectly content to spend hours upon hours in her playpen or crib playing her baby toys. Indeed, Thora was by far Aleksandra most easy going child by far - which was both a relief after fussy Ulf and slight disappointment.

Aleksandra continued to stare out thoughtfully at the sky, a smile beaming from either side of her face as she listened to her youngest children play. Her mind was a blank canvas, empty of fleeting thoughts as she patiently waited for her husband’s arrival. Time seemed to fly whilst she waited, glancing at her watch every few minutes. Five-thirty, turned into five-forty, five-fifty, six-clock and finally six-fifteen without a change. Then finally, at sixty-twenty, the vibration of the metal gate which led inside her summer house and the rumble of a car’s engine signified her husband’s return. Pulling up at their summer house in a recent purchased black convertible BMW, parking and turning off the engine just outside the main entryway into the house. The tall and bald Prince Benedikt with green eyes and an auburn goatee emerged from his vehicle to reveal himself in full to his wife. Benedikt was of low birth, born to poor Dewedish refugees who fled Deweden after it came under the RUP’s control to what would later constitute South Rietumimark. Through hard work and determination, he managed to found and run a major cybersecurity firm worth hundreds of millions of USD.

“I am so sorry, my darling Aleksandra, for being so late. As you probably know, early morning roadway construction caused horrific traffic jams in and around Kralin International Airport and Central Kralin, which delayed me for well over an hour.” Benedikt explained as he traveled up the pebble path towards the porch his wife and kids were on, beaming at them the entire time. “How are you and the kids doing?”

Aleksandra rose from her seat, swooping up Ulf and Thora and placing them both on her hips. Thora smiled and cooed with excitement that the prospect of being hugged by her mother. Ulf, on the other hand, let out an importunate groan in protest of being disturbed and displaced by his mother. “Well, little Ulf decided it would be a great idea to wake up his mum and baby sister at four-thirty in the morning by yelling for no apparent reason,” Aleksandra said with a hint of irritation in her voice as she strode over to her her husband. Thora let out an animated yell at the sight of her father, reaching her arms out to embrace him. “How was your fly back to Deweden and your drive back here?”

“As I aforementioned, the traffic in and around Kralin was absolutely horrific, which was quite a nasty surprise at this time of the day. It was incredibly infuriating as my flight back here was painless, with no delays of any kind. I do hope that the traffic has cleared once you and the kids are on the road.” Benedikt said softly, smiling back at his youngest daughter and taking her from her mother’s arms. He looked at his children’s faces for a moment, following his inside and asked. “Where are our older children, are they inside or hanging out with Valgeror and Alexia Maria?”

“Almost all of them are with Valgeror and Alexia Maria at a beach house just a ten minute walk from the shore, with the exception of Vilmar - who’s upstairs getting ready, having just woken up about twenty minutes ago,” Aleksandra explained to her husband, entering their summer house and walking through the main family room. “And before you say anything, I didn’t trust Valgeror to prepare and sheep everyone to the airport, so I did everything for them with the help of several trust aids; who swore to get them to Kralin International Airport at the agreed time. Also, thank you for coming back early from your cybersecurity conference, I know it was a major inconvenience.”

“It is quite alright my dear, I certainly don’t mind taking time off work to spend on father-child bonding time with my two little angels. I would much rather occupy my time looking after my children than listen to stuffy business types and cyber security blokes blab on for hours about the growing importance of further combating cyber attacks and developing new software to stop or prevent them.” Benedikt elaborated with a laugh, kissing his wife on the cheek as she put Ulf in another playpen, this one by the dining room. “I don’t like them spending too much time with Valgeror, she is a bad influence on them - especially our Beatrice. Do you remember one and half years ago when she filmed herself and our daughter singing the anthem of the far-right National Front or only months later, she and Beatrice were again in the press for drunk driving. This is not even going into her recent shift in political position, which has become increasingly radical jingoist, ultranationalist, right-wing. It has taken months to but some distance between the two.”

“Yes, I know all of that, but they are family and need to spend some time together. I know what it is like not to talk or even know some of my extended family members and I certainly don’t want them to have to experience the same as they get older. Family is important, my dear, and, for me at least, it is the only thing that truly matters in this world. Without a loving family, you have nothing.” Aleksandra countered defensively, looking up at their house’s grand staircase as Vilmar descended down them with a suitcase in hand, fully dressed in a beige and brown wedding suit. Vilmar was closely resembled his father, inheriting his father’s lanky height, green eyes, and auburn hair. “Vilmar honey, are you ready to go?”

Vilmar’s response was a thorough nod to his mother. “That excellent news to hear. Now go to the car waiting for us outside the garage and put your things in the trunk and climb inside and wait for there while I finish speaking to dad. Okay?” Aleksandra elucidated to her son, who this time opted to reply with a smile and a thumbs up to his mother. She waited for Vilmar to leave audible range for continuing her conversation with her husband. “With that being taken into account, I do concur that we should try and limit Valgeror’s time and influence over our children, especially our younger kids. We don’t want some of her more unpleasant points of view to take hold over children’s minds.”

“We are in agreement then, now get going to Kralin International Airport before too much time passes by, you don’t want to be beaten to the Airport by Valgeror, you’ll never hear the end of her showboating and bragging about being the first to arrive throughout your time in the Allamunnic States,” said Benedikt jokily on a lighter subject, escorting his wife, Ulf and Thora on either arm, to the car waiting just outside the summer house’s garage. He gave Aleksandra kiss and embraced Vilmar - both reciprocated - and waved his final goodbye as the car barrelled through the pebbly pathway and onto the main roads. Aleksandra and her son each slipped on an ear plugs, plugging them into their phone and turned on their favourite playlists to pass the time during their long drive. Their vehicle came barrelling down the major motorway, later joined by a police escort, as they progressed slowly through heavy traffic which Aleksandra's husband had warned about as scenic, rugged rural Deweden was replaced by the concrete structures of Kralin. Eventually, after nearly two hours on the road, they finally arrived at Kralin International Airport to be greeted by a grinning Valgeror.

“Finally I have arrived, I thought for a moment that you pussied out on us and left us to go to the wedding all by ourselves!” Valgeror yelled out towards her aunt as she climbed out of her car outside their private jet, placing her light-brown hair which dangled just above her shoulders into a ponytail. Valgeror wore a dark gray, gothic stylists dress, black eyeliner and eyeshadow encircling her brown eyes, and purple lipstick. Valgeror had filled out and become far more muscular than she previously was since she had gone professional in the Dewedish Kvinders Nationalråd Ishockey Liga, playing for Kralin United FC and started making appearances for the Dewedish women’s ice hockey team. A left-wing forward, her fiery, aggressive playstyle aligned up with her personality. But Aleksandra knew better, in truth Valgeror was nothing more than a damaged little girl who’d created a facade to protect herself from reliving the pain she suffered after the loss of her grandparents and mother. “You complain at me for always being late, yet here we are, with you, auntie, being the one who is late.”

“It appears like that you managed to avoid the worst of the traffic, as per your luck. Had you been in the same kind of traffic we had, you would have been late as well. But go on, have your fun boasting.” said Aleksandra gracefully exiting the car with Vilmar, while around them, the jet’s stuff hurriedly placed their luggage into the jet. Not wanting to waste any time, Aleksandra and Vilmar followed Valgeror inside the jet. “So tell, is everyone inside and ready to go once we are in the interior of the aircraft?”

“I think I will save it up and unleash the bragging when you’re not expecting it to happen. And yes, everyone is inside the jet and is currently waiting for your arrival.” Valgeror said with a laugh, moving to the side to allow her aunt and cousin to pass her. Aleksandra was immediately greeted by her children and Alexia Maria, all of whom took turns exchanging pleasantries and embrace; each giving detailed accounts of their time with Valgeror and journey to Krailn International Airport, varying slightly with each different rendition of the story. She beamed with pride as they each spoke, for her, there was no greater gift in this world than parenthood. Once everyone had said their piece, they took their seats - with Aleksandra telling them that she would sit in the back and get some shut eye during, while also secretly listening to their conversations - as the plane ascended into the air and began its journey to the Allamunnic States.

“Sis, what the hell is wrong with you, why are you studying at the beginning of summer break,” Valgeror spoke up indignantly at her younger sister, shock and horror from the thought of studying permeating from her face. Alexia and Valgeror couldn’t have, aesthetically, personality wise, and the ways they coped with their mother’s death, been more different from each other. Alexia was sheltered, shy and timid, but quietly steely, preferring the company of a good book over a large social gathering like a wedding. Additionally, the girl the extremely intelligent, having already finished secondary school and was poised to start studying medicine at the Royal University of Kralin at the beginning of the next school year in pursuit of her dream of becoming a pediatrician. She was unique for the fact of being the only natural blond and blue eyed person among her sisters and cousins, all of whom had darker hair and eyes. Because of this deviation from the norm, she was considered by many to be the most stunning of the lot, even though didn’t believe it. “That is a tragedy, a war crime for which needs to be punished at the highest court in Cornellia. No one should never voluntary study during our time off, in is an insult to every god people blindly believe in. Do us all a favour and put the books away so we don’t have to be reminded on what awaits us in a few weeks time.”

“I agree with Val, you seriously need to take a break from studying Alex, you spent a better a better part of four months studying constantly for your LSEs; which you passed with a score of 99.7%, the third best grade anyone has received in the exams’ ten year history. This wedding should be an opportunity for all of us to let our hair down and enjoy ourselves, despite the fact the bride great many rumoured vices like her older brother.” Prince Salomon explained to his cousin with a disapproving tone in his voice towards the end of his sentence. Saloman studied with Alexia Maria for the LSE and too passed his final exams, graduating from secondary school early, and was preparing to enlist into the Royal Dewedish Navy, following the footsteps of his great-uncle Grand Admiral Abelard, after his sixteenth birthday later this summer. He was tall, handsome, sporting hazel eyes and sandy brown hair and was the type of Prince which many ladies around his age swooned over. “Jesus, taking a couple days off isn’t to mean I’ll forget everything I’ve learned over the past couple weeks. Out of everyone here, you don’t need to get some extra curriculum activities in.”

“Yes, but I’m going to be surrounded, when I start university, with people much...much older and smarter than myself. I need to as prepared as possible, I have to read every book possible that is about medicine to fully expand my knowledge of healthcare and what it entails to become a doctor. Sal and Val, I simply doubt have the time for this stupid wedding.” Alexia muttered quietly, failing to remove her gaze from her medicinal textbook she’d been reading since they’d boarded the jet. “All I want is to read my textbook in peace while we’re flying and get this wedding over and done with.”

“Sis, don’t be such a party pooper. It is after you graduate you celebrate and carouse like it’s your last day on earth. What you don’t do, is read fucking textbooks and not bloody stress about what’s going to happen in a couple weeks time. Put the fucking textbook away,” said Valgeror lunging across the Salomon to snatch Alexia’s textbook away from her sister. Alexia promptly tried to pull the book out of Valgeror reach, thrusting it against the jet’s window; she was too slow. Valgeror’s far superior reflexes were too quick for Alexia, who felt the textbook slip through her fingers and be dragged onto Valgeror’s lap. “And do something which normal people do, like have a conversation or something.”

At that moment, self-absorbed Princess Beatrice sauntered by, her eyes were glued to her phone and seemed to be completely oblivious to the events which had just occurred moments ago. She was already dressed, primed for their impending arrival, wearing a fitted royal blue silk dress, diamond earrings, several silver rings, a necklace with her birthstone slung around her neck, lavender eyeshadow to amplify the flecks gold in her hazel eyes, and her brunette hair was braided back into a chignon. “So, which one of my like selfies do you guys think is like the best pic for all my social media?” Beatrice asked, extending her arm out to show them two selfies of herself pouting on her cell phone. “BTW, you all should like really finished start getting ready for the wedding, we’ll like landing soon. Hmm...I wonder if Arietta would be willing to take a selfie with me, my following would love that, a pic of the bride before she gets married.”

“Okay, thank you, Beatrice for telling us, but can you just piss off. We don’t care about which picture you choose, just choose one and leave us out of it.” Salomon snapped at his older sister, outstretching his hands so Alexia - who was considerably smaller that Valgeror - couldn’t retaliate against her sister. “Val, can you please give Alex the textbook back, my mum will be really pissed if you two spend the entire time glaring at each other, embarrassing our family in front of many of Cornellia’s most powerful royal families?”

“Fine then, I’m sorry that I was rather brusque with you, it was only cus I love you sis and I don’t want you to waste your life away reading books. I want you to get out there and find someone.” Valgeror said nonchalantly, throwing the textbook back on Alexia’s lap. “Beatrice, are you blind? Can you not see that we’re already dressed up, all set for the wedding?” To which Beatrice replied with an apathetic shrug and ambled over to her younger brother Prince Daniel, who shared his sister’s passion for makeup and fashion; prompting rumours about his sexual orientation in the Dewedish press.

“I understand your reasoning Val, although you have a crude way of explaining things. I’ll try to be far more sociable during the wedding, not bringing my textbook anywhere people might be, but you two must understand, I find social events like weddings to be...difficult, especially since mum died,” said Alexia chokingly, nervously playing with part of her flowing yellow gown. Salomon placed his left hand on his cousin's shoulder to comfort her, smiling compassionately and softly as he did.

“Of course we understand, right Val,” Salomon said gently pushing his elbow her in ribs in an affectionate way; causing Valgeror to nodded in agreement. “Both of us and Aleksandra will be right here and shall support you in anyway you need.” he added with a confident grin. The trio continued to talk about various subjects, consisting predominantly of ice hockey - much too Alexia distaste - to who would be attending the wedding. Upon the jet landing, they climbed out of it, continuing their conversation, and entered two SUVs waiting for them; whilst their jet’s staff quickly loaded their belongings into the SUVs. “Staalmark is colder than I expected,” Solomon chuckled as the SUVs sped towards Fradrykhuld Palace. Once they’d arrived, the convoy pulled up at the palace, one by one, the Dewedish Royal family exited their vehicles, a throng of suited members of the Queen of Deweden's Royal Brigades forming a protective circle around the family. and entered the palace.

[Allamunnic States]

The Streets of Rikardsburg,
A motorcade, approaching Fradrykhuld Palace

The Riktunsunns had been kings, once. So they liked to claim, at least. And, Rosanna thought with a somewhat sour glance at her father out of the corner of her eye, liked to act. That was, at least to her thinking, the only possible reason behind the... display he had organized for their arrival. There was not, she thought, any really compelling reason for their *entire* family to show up as one, particularly when her elder brothers, Viktur and Harald, had already been at the palace for days with Crown Prince Vitus, helping with wedding arrangements and planning the bachelor party with the other groomsmen.

Beyond that, it was invariably awkward whenever the entire Riktunsunn brood were all together. Although most of Adolfus Riktunsunn's children got along reasonably well (and, to Rosanna's knowledge, did not bear each other any particular ill-will), there was always the awkwardness that inevitably arose from the fact that there was a substantial age gap between the eldest and youngest, and that they were variously the children of Adolfus and three different women.

Rosanna had somehow wound up in the limousine with her father, his current wife, Katya (who was an astounding and, to Allamunnic sensibilities, horrifying quarter-century younger than her husband) and the most recent litter of children. There had not been enough room in the town cars carrying the rest of the fifteen Riktunsunn children, two ex-wives, and the drivers, for Rosanna to stay with her own mother. She had spent much of the journey keeping her eyes on her smartphone, and pointedly away from her father, who, despite a certain amount of familial affection, also built an undue amount of anger in her.

That preoccupation, however, had been owed to more than just disgust with Adolfus. Rosanna also had plans. Big plans, and a fair amount would need to go right during these wedding festivities, if they were to happen. So she had spent a not-inconsiderable amount of time text messaging Gretchen Sproek, trying to coordinate.

Do you have your pitch written out? she had asked Gretchen a few hours before.

When am I ever not ready for a presentation? the Sproek princess had responded. Do you want me to run through yours when you get here, make sure we are on the same page?

Thatw might be a good call, she had texted back, mentally kicking herself after the fact for the entirely-avoidable typo.

Cool. There's some sort of rager happening when everyone gets here, but there should be a moment's peace after, her ally had replied. Rosanna, of course, had not needed the reminder that there was supposed to be a mingling hour or so when everyone arrived; she would have to be ready to make a positive impression as soon as they arrived, instead of having some downtime to freshen up. She shifted on the leather seat, lifting herself slightly so that she could tuck the hem of her lilac sundress back under her after it had slid up.

She snuck another glance around the inside of the car, checking mostly on her numerous half-siblings. Kaarlus and Jaekus, the two eldest of the most recent brood at thirteen and twelve years, were old enough to keep themselves occupied as they watched the city roll by through the windows. Meanwhile, their younger sisters were in varying states of daze or sleep, with ten-year-old Karlotta and five-year-old Helena both sound asleep, while seven-year-old Helga was thoroughly zoned out courtesy of some allergy medication she had been given prior to the long car ride. Courtesy of the miracles of probabilities and genetics, the entire car save for Katya had some shade of red hair (well, except for Adolfus himself, although there it was a simple matter of age rather than natural shade: he had been fiery-haired in his youth as well, but had long-since gone gray). However, Rosanna was the lone occupant of the vehicle with dark eyes, a smooth, warm brown she shared with her mother.

Lifting her eyes further, she pointedly avoided looking at her father and his wife, and turned to the window. It was tinted to a point where the entire rest of the world seemed somewhat dimmed by comparison, despite the brightness brought on by an increasingly-cloudless sky. As they rolled through the city of Rikardsburg, the sunlight was washing the damp off of the buildings as they rolled by, moving north. Coming from the southeast, the Riktunsunns were getting a good view of some of the wealthier areas of the second largest Allamunnic city, entering it through the Feldun Hill district, home to many of the city’s richest areas, including the Greenway neighborhood that they had entered from.

As its name suggested, Greenway was lined with parks, lush, ancient trees, and wide, well-tended boulevards that led along rows of ornate mansions that housed the city’s economic and political elites, many of which could only be glimpsed through thick brush and tree covering that isolated them from the streets, allowing their occupants the privacy they craved in an otherwise dense Allamunnic city. The Riktunsunn motorcade was able to pass swiftly through the relatively quiet neighborhood, skirting the beginnings of the downtown area as they entered the Old Market district.

In the Old Market, the buildings remained relatively low, almost all of them older than a full century, even the newest of the buildings (and with many of them well older than that), built from brick, timber, and usually no more than a few stories tall, with fairly few streets open to cars, many of them pedestrian roads fitted with cobblestone rather than concrete. The buildings slowly got taller as the cars rolled towards the city center on the Innus River, briefly past the ritzy apartments and townhomes of the Gilded Coast, and then into the built-up Merchants’ Landing district, rolling along the river. Many of the city’s tallest buildings were built along the riverfront in the downtown area, up through the Merchants’ Landing and Bridge Districts, and that density and modernity carried over into the New Market district, until they rolled into Spyrvyl, a district chock-full of churches, cathedrals, and other... spires and towers that gave the area its name.

Rosanna must have dozed off somewhere in Spyrvyl, because when her eyes snapped open they were making their approach to the Fradrykhuld Palace, on the peak of the next ridge to the west of Rikardsburg, several miles away from the city. She shook her head, trying to wake herself up a little bit. She was only partially successful, feeling a yawn force its way out of her, and she looked out the window to see they were part of a veritable procession of similar limousines and towncars headed up towards the Palace.

“Wow,” she mumbled. “I guess everyone else showed up at the same time.” She leaned her head against the window, watching as the procession of luxury vehicles inched forward at a glacial pace. As she watched the scene, dimmed by the window’s tint, she idly curled a bit of her mass of curly, rusty hair around her finger, before dropping it, allowing it to fall past her shoulder blade with the rest of her mane.

Turning to look back, she watched the road they had followed recede back down the mountain they had climbed on their approach to Fradrykhuld Palace, vanishing into an old-growth forest that covered the eastern slope. She must have missed them passing the guardhouse. Despite the tint, the light was bright, and Rosanna found herself first squinting, then yawning, stretching her limbs out, feeling the leather of the seat meet the smooth skin of her right leg as she uncrossed.

Her father chose that moment to break the silence. “Oh, child, how could you possibly be so tired so early? We have such a long day ahead of us. Important people to meet. Maybe we’ll even find someone for you,” he said, his voice jolly in the manner of a person who thought himself wittier than they actually were.

For her part, Rosanna scratched her slim nose before responding. “If you say so, father.” She kept her tone neutral, rubbing her eyes sleepily. “You don’t need to worry about me scaring off potential suitors with my ghastly manners,” she continued, sarcasm creeping into her voice. “Gods forbid they should see someone yawn.”

Adolfus withheld additional comment, simply shaking his head and turning his attention back to his wife. Rosanna, for her part, turned back to the window, this time looking at her reflection, and checking on where her make-up required touching-up. She had no desire to hide the freckles that marked her fair skin, but she did touch-up the subtle lipstick that accented the gentle Cupid’s Bow of her upper lip.

She realized that, for the sake of avoiding misunderstandings, she would have to spend a good portion of the upcoming festivities smiling, even if it was a relatively light smile. Although Rosanna’s features did not take on a sour cast in times of idleness, her resting expression was very much one that suggested a lack of interest in whatever she happened to be turning her attention to.

After what seemed like an eternity, their limousine pulled up to the large front double doors of the Fradrykhuld Palace, and an attendant, dressed in a uniform embellished with the black-and-gold crest of the House of Sproek, pulled the door open. “Lord Adolfus Riktunsunn? Please allow me, on behalf of my employer, King Rodrik IV, to welcome you and your family to Fradrykhuld Palace,” the young man said. Adolfus had stepped up and exited the car, nodding thanks to the attendant as he stepped out, turning back to watch his family file out of the car. The first to follow him out was Katya, whose youth was even more apparent in the light, blonde hair piled in an elaborate up-do, and wearing a yellow dress that was fancier than the occasion of their arrival really required. She was also heavily jeweled, and the significant number of gemstones caught the sun as she took a position next to her husband.

Behind her came their brood, the five children filing in next to Katya and Adolfus, leaving Rosanna as the last one out. A slight wind kicked up as she exited the vehicle, perturbing the garments of her family. Perhaps it was the angle, but it caused Rosanna’s hair to billow slightly behind her, and had the unfortunate (or perhaps fortunate, for some onlookers) side effect of plastering her dress close against her body. Although she possessed a fairly slender build, genetics had been kind to the young Riktunsunn woman, granting her an appealing figure, which she did her best to hide by taking up a position where her father sheltered her somewhat from the wind, just a little embarrassed by the incident.

As the breeze quieted down, Adolfus and Katya turned and allowed themselves and their children to be led into the palace, despite the fact that both of Adolfus’ ex-wives were still disembarking from their vehicles with the other Riktunsunn children.

Rosanna stayed behind for a moment while her own mother and immediate siblings joined them. Alana Moerr was actually shorter than Rosanna by a couple of inches, and where her middle daughter had fiery hair, her own shoulders were graced by a thick mane whose dark brown was now threaded with silver . The family resemblance could be seen in the cast of their faces, and in the chocolatey-hued eyes on both Rosanna and Alana’s faces were virtually identical. It was also clear that the daughter had inherited her build from her mother; although morphed somewhat by years of comfortable living and the strains of bearing seven children, she was still appealing in her way.

The middle Riktunshof daughter’s elder twin brothers were absent, but Alana had been accompanied by her other four daughters, and then some. Barbara, who bore a striking resemblance to her mother, was six years Rosanna’s senior, and, while far from homely, had clearly not hit the genetic lottery the way some of her younger siblings had. Still, Barbara had a very calming manner about her, something that led to the natural conclusion that she would make an excellent mother one day. That day was coming sooner rather than later, since, as her husband, Maeryk, helped her out of the car, it was obvious that Barbara was fairly far along in pregnancy.

Joerga was only a year younger than Rosanna, but the two looked even more different than the middle Riktunshof and her own mother. Joerga had inherited her father’s height, and had topped out only a couple inches shy of six feet tall. From her mother, she had inherited virtually everything else: her hair, her eyes, even her gait. Perhaps it was just a matter of her height, but Rosanna always had the slight feeling that even if she were shorter, Joerga’s nose would likely remain at the same elevation. Behind her came Brenna, who was practically a copy of their mother, with the lone noticeable exception being that she had inherited her father’s almost-luminous green eyes. Joerga had brought her significant other, Erik Danner, a rookie tight-end for the Kohlenburg Boars, and Brenna had brought her girlfriend Joanna, making for a rather packed vehicle, and explaining why Rosanna had volunteered for the other vehicle.

Lastly came Rosanna’s “baby” sister. Apart from being the only one of Alana’s children who was actually shorter than her mother, the first thing most would notice about “little Amelie” was her appearance. Despite coming from a rather attractive family, Amelie somehow managed to make those around her seem almost drab in comparison. Her face was not unlike Rosanna’s, but instead of smooth brown eyes, her eyes were an intermediate hue between blue and green, and her skin was as fair as her siblings, but with even fainter freckles. Where Rosanna’s fiery hair usually wound up in an unruly cascade, Amelie’s was an even, strawberry-blonde curtain. Although less curvy than her sisters, the youngest of Alana’s children was also the most athletically-built, and the youngest, not even at the comparatively-low Allamunnic seventeen-year-old age of majority.

Or, Rosanna thought, surveying the mob of the middle set of Riktunshofs, eyes falling on her youngest full-sister, in layman’s terms, jailbait. Which means it will likely fall to me to make sure she stays out of trouble. The other three will be preoccupied, and I’m willing to bet Mum will spend an unseemly amount of effort trying to make Father jealous. As if I needed more on my to-do list.

Approaching her immediate family, she smiled pleasantly, and, it was worth note, completely genuinely. Despite her occasional exasperation at her family, she loved them dearly. Well, the ones in front of her at that moment, at least. Perhaps a little less dearly in other cases. “How was the ride up for you all?” she asked cheerfully.

“It was quite pleasant,” Alana said, her voice mellow. “The scenery, as always, was wonderful. Your sisters, are such excellent company, even if they won’t let an old lady rest peacefully during a car ride,” she continued, a teasing tone entering her voice. “What about for you? Thank you so much for taking one for the family, sweetie.” At that, she gave Rosanna a hug.

“Could have been much, much worse. All the tiny ones are pleasant company, still. Even if Kaarl and Jaek are turning into such excellent specimens of teenage petulance,” she replied with a chuckle. Motioning towards the still open front doors, held open by attendants, she continued. “Shall we?”

The middle batch of Riktunshofs entered the increasingly-crowded room between the front doors and the doors that separated them from the crowds in the front hall. They were joined, moments later, by the eldest of the Riktunshofs, Adolfus’s first wife, Ryanna Boern, and her three children. The youngest and most handsome of them, Magnus, was in his mid-thirties, accompanied by his husband and their own two children, a boy and a girl who looked to be within a year of their first decade.

Behind them was the eldest of the Riktunshof brood, Kristiana, who was a successful lawyer in her early forties, with aspirations of public service. She was accompanied by her husband, who, Rosanna knew, was a stay-at-home parent, leading their three children.

Finally, there was the middle of Ryanna’s children, there was Izaak, who was both a priest and the head of a rather extremist religious school and was a sanctimonious prick, and was to boot part of the stricter Honorian school of Christianity rather than the more lax Korynnian denomination. Although Ryanna’s children were so much older that they tended to not be especially close to the other members of the Riktunshof brood, at least Kristy and Magnus were nice enough. Rosanna had never had a pleasant interaction with Izaak.

She did notice the way her own mother and Ryanna drifted together. Adolfus’s spurned wives had become close friends over the years, to a degree she knew made her father more than a little nervous. On the whole, she had trouble having any sympathy for him on that front: it was an entirely self-created problem, from what she could tell.

Through the doors, she heard the attendant call out, albeit somewhat muffled: “Please welcome from Latium, Her Majesty the Empress Marcella and their Highnesses the Princes and Princesses Constantine, Maria, Selena, Peter, Philip, and Polyxena of Latium, Princes and Princesses Olivia, Leo, Diana, and Theodora of Ghant, Marquis Justin Ulpius, and Lady Theodora Ulpia.”

With the whole Riktunshof clan assembled, the front doors were closed behind them. They were all dressed in relatively light attire, well-made sundresses and lightweight sports jackets, in the main, but even so, almost thirty people in the enclosed space caused it to heat up alarmingly quickly as the doorman explained the process of making their entrance.

“When we open the doors, you will be able to make your entrance into the Front Hall. Many other guests who have arrived earlier will already be present, and His Majesty King Rodrik will be waiting with his family to receive you. Once you have been received, he asks that you proceed with all possible brevity so that we may keep the line of arriving guests moving.”

“Wants to show us how unimportant we are, I bet,” Adolfus muttered. Rosanna rolled her eyes. Her father was the only person this side of the sixteenth century who still thought there was a rivalry between the Sproeks and Riktunshofs. The War of Staalmarker Succession that had sparked it had been almost seven centuries ago, now. Even by the standards of hilariously-long Ghantish family feuds, she thought, that kind of grudge was absurd.

“Alright, well, this is our chance to show off, then,” her father continued. “Amelie, Rosanna, Brenna, would you please come up front with me?” Although the expressions on all three of the sisters matched, Rosanna was the only one to audibly sigh. The last thing they needed was all the predatory foreign noble types getting a good public look at their baby sister. Nudging Joerga, Rosanna nodded up front. Luckily, they were all on more-or-less the same page in this regard, and eager to not make more work for themselves, so Joerga took what was supposed to be Amelie’s place at Adolfus’ right, with Rosanna on the outside. Amelie fell in behind her towering sister, Joerga’s boyfriend behind Rosanna, and Brenna came up to the left of Katya, making a five-wide row.

Brenna’s girlfriend, Rosanna was dismayed to see, had been crowded out of the front. Unfortunately, Adolfus was one of the less accepting sorts, and so while he could not be openly homophobic without drawing social sanction on himself, he had made it clear that he disapproved of his daughter’s relationship with another woman. For that matter, he had disapproved rather clearly of his second son’s relationship with another man. He would just have to learn to live with it, Rosanna thought.

Unfortunately, the shuffle had not escaped Amelie’s attention. She had leaned forward, muttering to her sisters. “What’s going on?”

Rosanna made sure their father was not paying attention before speaking. “Father wants to show off how attractive his children are. He wants you in front because he’s trying to get the attention of all the young men in the audience, nevermind that a bunch of them will be foreigners who will happily use you for their own ends without a second thought to your well-being.” She sighed, then relented slightly. “It’s not wrong to have fun, here, Ami, but keep your guard up. Not everyone who acts like your friend at these things actually is.”

Amelie looked somewhat taken aback, even alarmed, but nodded her understanding. “You’ll watch my back, right sis?”

“Of course I will, kiddo. Even if he’s a dinosaur, Father is right about one thing: family have to look out for each other.”

Luckily, her words were mostly drowned out by the muttering and chatter in the antechamber, so only her adjacent sisters heard her.

At that point, the doors swung open, and the Riktunshofs proceeded into the Front Hall. Light flooded their vision, as the eliptical room was illuminated by high windows, including a huge skylight, which reflected off of the polished white, black, and pink-streaked marble floors.

A large number of people crowded along a symmetrical circular staircase and along the floors. In front of them all was King Rodrik of Staalmark, his wife Queen Jana at his right side, with his son (and the groom), Vitus, to her right. On his left were his three daughters, in descending order by age: Gretchen was furthest inside, then Kaarla, then Kristina. The attendant announced their arrival, as he had all previous guests, in a resonant voice that carried and echoed throughout the room.

“Please welcome His Grace the Duke of Innusburg, Adolfus Riktunshof, and his family: his wife, Duchess Katya, his children, Kristiana, Izaak, Magnus, Barbara, Harald, Viktur, Rosanna, Joerga, Brenna, Amelie, Kaarlus, Jaekus, Karlotta, Helga, and Helena, and their mothers, Ryanna Boern and Alana Moerr.”

The veritable posse proceeded toward the Staalmarker royal family. Even if feudalism had withered away to any functional extent in the Federation, some of its trappings remained. One of those was readily apparent as Adolfus bowed to his King. His wife, ex-wives, and children followed his lead, those in pants bowing, and those in skirts or dresses curtseying to their nominal liege lord. Those bows were very brief, as almost as soon as they had sunk to their lowest point, Rodrik raised his hand to indicate that they should rise. “Greetings, Your Majesty,” Adolfus said. “We thank you for your invitation to celebrate this joyous occasion with you,” he continued, his tone sounding like he actually meant it.

“I thank you for attending,” Rodrik replied, with a smile that by all accounts seemed genuine enough. “It is our pleasure to have you with us for this wonderful event.” He gestured to a table with light lunch fare and several drink options. “Please, help yourselves to refreshments. We are still waiting on a number of guests to arrive.”

The eldest of the Sproek sisters made eye contact with Rosanna, and she and Gretchen exchanged semi-conspiratorial smiles, nodding, but otherwise saying and doing nothing. A relatively few short moments later, the Riktunshofs had been ushered off to the side to join the growing crowd, while the next guests were brought in to repeat the ritual.

As they walked off to the side, the Dewedish contingent entered behind them. The crier made the announcement just as Rosanna turned around to watch the newest arrivals.

“Please welcome from the Kingdom of Deweden, Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Valgeror and Their Royal Highnesses Princess Alexia, Princess Aleksandra, Princess Beatrice, Prince Salomon, Prince Daniel, and Prince Vilmar of Deweden!”

Rosanna watched as the Dewedish royal family entered the chamber, having been seperated from most of their security in the atrium, with a token guard on them. The guards, if she recalled previous visits correctly, would go off to coordinate with the Royal Guard forces and whatever other security were present for the event. Her eyes followed them as they approached the royal family of Staalmark, and observed them go through similar motions of pleasantries and brief discussion, before the Dewedish royals were shuffled off to the side, and the next group was ushered in.

Unlike the last few arrivals, which had been rather large groups, this was only a single person, accompanied by their own security.

“Please welcome Generalissimo Stevan Grimmeburger, head of state of the Federation of Allamunnic States!” the herald announced.

Flanked by blue-and-gray dress-uniformed Huskaarls of the General’s Guard, carrying almost archaic rifles, the Allamunnic head of state walked casually into the room, dressed in a dark gray dress uniform that looked crisp and official, and was cut close enough to show off his fairly good physical condition for a person in their fifties. His more-pepper-than-salt hair was cut reasonably short, and his similarly-hued beard, while still full, was similarly well-maintained and trimmed. Grimmeburger nodded to the Guards, who halted only a few long strides into the room, assuming an at-ease position with the butts of their rifles resting on their feet. The heavily-bearded, burly guards almost dwarfed their average-sized charge, who continued walking towards the royal family.

Following the facial expressions involved, Rosanna figured that the General’s smile, though perhaps a little small, appeared genuine. Of course, she was relatively far away, but it still looked like the smile went up to the former soldier’s eyes, and the greetings he exchanged with the Sproeks, while not effusive, seemed to carry a degree of genuine warmth. A few long moments later, he gave them a deep nod, which, while not to be confused with a bow, was still as close to a gesture of deference as one might expect of a person to their subordinate, and he walked off to the side. With another nod, the two Huskaarls picked up their rifles, slinging them over their shoulders on leather straps, did an about-face, and exited the chamber. The General was clearly convinced he was safe inside the palace, a display which hopefully would ease the minds of any foreign dignitaries who were uncertain.

Most of those who followed the Generalissimo into the Hall were Allamunnic dignitaries from Staalmark in particular, but from throughout the country as well. The first to follow Grimmeburger were a handful of Senators who looked somewhat ill at ease with one another. Rosanna recognized them, some of them better than others. Leading the way was the Allamunnic chancellor, Anessa Maarks, a blonde woman of average height in her early forties. Maarks had donned an off-white skirt-suit with a dark-blue blouse and light brown flats that caused her icy blue eyes to jump out strongly. She was the most poised and comfortable of the Senators in the group.

Behind her was a light-gray suited man in his late fifties, only an inch or two taller than Maarks, once-sandy hair now gray and with watery blue eyes behind round wire-framed glasses. With a start, Rosanna realized she was looking at one of her political heroes, Labor leader Stannis Lynnun, one of the officers who had overthrown Eddard Jaal and who had served as alternately loyal opposition and ally to the current government. Next to him, occasionally shooting Lynnun the odd, harsh glance, was Nationalist leader Izaak Mueller, a man in his mid-sixties, iron-haired, with a square jaw, and wearing a darker suit that looked considerably more expensive and finely-made than Lynnun’s well-worn garment. Mueller and Maarks had both brought their spouses. Maarks was accompanied by her husband Graagur, along with their children, Karlus and Anastasya, who were thirteen and eleven years old respectively. Mueller’s wife, Marna, was about the same age as the Nationalist leader, and they were unaccompanied by their grown children.

Rosanna noticed as they began their greetings with the Sproeks, that her family was disintegrating, separating off into several groups going their separate ways. She was pleased to note that Amelie had stuck with Joerga and Erik as they wandered off, while Brenna and Joanna had simply made an attempt to put some distance between themselves and Adolfus. Most of her younger half-siblings had stayed with Katya and Adolfus, who were moving towards the refreshments, while Ryanna and Alana started forming their own group with the eldest Riktunshof children and their respective families. Meanwhile, the person she most wanted to talk to was stuck at the front in what amounted to a receiving line, and so she was unsure where to go.

Looking around the room, she saw business magnates, other nobles and royals (she recognized the Grimmurs of Skraelingia, the Beows of Nyurdlynd, the Claemurs of Piekslynd, the Ufdraakurrs of Draakurr, and the Izaaksunns of Onneria all present), athletes, and other elected officials. The Lieutenant Governor of Staalmark, Walder Filius, who oversaw most of the day-to-day executive duties of the state, was present with his own family, as were other members of the influential Filius family. She also noted the numerous descendents of Lady Henderson, another political idol of Rosanna’s. She noted that General Grimmeburger had started mingling with them, which essentially headed off any chance that Rosanna could venture there with any comfort.

The Aronvulk family were also present. Their Vulksaron Company was one of the businesses that had built Staalmark, and the rival Svaartaron family, who had done much to build Dunnmaar, were scattered around the room. Rosanna was interested to note the presence of several athletic sorts, and she suspected that several, but not all of them played for the Rikardsburg Ironmongers. She also observed a group of people that she was fairly sure were members of the Latin royal family. There were also already a substantial number of Ghantish nobles and notables wandering around, mingling with the Staalmarkers.

She was saved from making a choice by a tap on her shoulder. She turned to find the daughter of another prominent Staalmarker family at her side. “Hey Ro!” Rosanna found herself in a strong hug almost immediately, squashed against a somewhat soft, curvy young woman. After a moment, the young Riktunshof woman managed to extricate herself.

“Hey, Lyna, didn’t know you were going to be here!” she exclaimed. The brunette hugger nodded, some of the enthusiasm going out of her smile.

“Yeah, Mom and Dad said I had to go, it would be unsightly if I didn’t,” she explained. “Apparently, social convention is unforgiving of people who don’t want to attend their ex’s wedding.”

“No, that’d be much too easy,” Rosanna answered. “God forbid we be able to avoid potentially awkward situations without prompting lots of talk.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice, but then she gave the young Jormunt a hug back. “Are you going to be okay? I can’t imagine this is fun for you.”

Lyna shrugged after they split again. “I’ll manage. It can’t be worse than a text message saying we should ‘take a break’ whatever the fuck that was supposed to be,” she said, bitterness creeping into her tone. “And if it is… well, hell, at least I can good and drunk on their dollar to take my mind off it.”

Rosanna nodded, even as she mused that really, the last thing anyone here (including Lyna) needed was a thoroughly-wasted Lyna Jormunt. Rosanna was hoping that she would not have to talk the young woman down from self-destructive behavior once again. One incident of The Dumping was enough without having a reprise. She mentally cursed the Jormunts for insisting that her friend come to an event that would obviously be unpleasant for her.

“Have you seen anyone worth bumping elbows with?” Rosanna asked her friend. Lyna’s smile came back, and she shrugged. There were a large number of people milling about, usually wearing pastel sundresses, or light suits that blended well with the light, off-white walls of the sunbathed hall.

“Oh, where to start?! There’s a bunch of gridballers around, there’s the rich and powerful, there’s old friends…” They both looked around. “Speaking of gridballers, I hear Kristian Moore is coming!” Rosanna raised an eyebrow.

“Honestly, just let me know if you see Claeg Knutsunn,” Rosanna said, suddenly a little distracted. “If I could get a piece of what he’s got…” She shook her head. “Well, I suppose we could wander…” Despite her words, Rosanna and Lyna continued to stand and watch the procession of new arrivals, which had turned into a steady stream rather than the trickle it had been only minutes before.

[New Edom]

As Princess Jocasta's motorcade rolled through the streets of Rikardsburg, she held out something to Prince Michael and her cousin Count Lalery. Her bosom rose and fell exciedly, her cldeavage threatening almost to burst her bodice of her lovely crimson gown which her fox fur cloak parted to reveal. A golden cross drew attention to the middle of this splendour. Raven curls fell to either side of her delicate oval face, and her hazel-brown eyes were alive with excitement.

"What's that?" Lalery asked.

"It's a book..."

"A book!" Lalery snatched it out of her hands, causing her to crease her lovely forehad in a frown, and flipped through the pages. "It's got...Good God almighty! Moveable type! But if the common folk get hold of such things, it could cause revolution! I will throw it out at once!" he began to open the window.

"Give it back, you lunatic!" she cried. 'It's my book, I wrote it!"

She grabbed it as he laughed at her. "You're an idiot, it's a book about my vision for restoring irghteousness, order and deceny to the Region--it's called The Turning of the Die, see? And it has a silhouetted figure on it showing a navigator struggling against a storm...signfying the ship of state."

"You're so sensitive, Sisssy, you take everything so seriously," said Lalery. "I'll read a copy. This is a dreary place, isn't it?"

"No it is has a beauty all its own, but it does not compare of course with Padan-Aran, but what places do?" Jocasta was very put out, she had had her moment ruined. "Of course these people are often very barbours, they love their hockey and this bizarre form of rugby they call, improperly, football and their names are like someone spitting up phlegm, but they're a people of honour in their way. What is ost appalling about them is their love of socialism and irreligiousness. A perfectly suitable people for Arietta to marry into."

"I pinched Arietta's ass really hard once when I danced with her," said Lalery. "She led me on until I did that."

"Spare me your vulgarity," said Jocasta, looking out the window. "Is Ava still coming?"

"Ava will come with her husband. I miss her," said Lalery a bit more softly.

Jocasta smiled. "I miss her too. Dear Ava, so gentle, so much the pacific balm upon the turmoiled waters of our House. Artistic and kind, I miss her too. And she really cares for you and worries for your happiness, cuz. I hope she is here, it will make you more bearable."

Lalery gaped then laughed. "And Sissy gets a zinger! I'm looking forward to this."

Jocata eyed him. Because you will see Caroline Zuria. You are such a bundle of contraictions, cousin, but you still have your uses. When I am Queen...

She smiled and waved out the window to the people.

When at last they arrived, Jocasta, in her crimson gown and dark hair piled up and flowing down her neck and in wavy curls by her face, was a splendid contrast to other Edomite dignitaries in white or dark blue uniforms. She met the Ambassador, the ageing Mr. Adoni-Zedek, who leaned on his ivory handled cane and bowed over her. Relations with the Allamunnic States were challenigng. They were among the strongest supporters of the CPO but differed greatly in how to develop policy in it. They were a key industrial nation that was vital to development, and they were extremely wary of trading with natiosn that did not support workers' rights in a manner to which they approved. New Edom was simply behind other nations in this and struggling towards them. This was one issue on which she and Lalery were united, at least, and supported the efforts of members of the Chamber to continually improve them. Both believed it was the best way to avoid further civil war and interruptions of domestic development of the economy. The Allamunnic dignitaries had attended the King's birthday in great numbers though. Hopefully this visit would cement furthering good relations along with the connections between the AS and Ghant. Ghant was the key, acting as a bridge, so this arrival meant a strong demonstration of respect. At this time, Jocasta was still the Heir.

"Ten-shun!" snapped Colonel Marcus Josephus as the Obeds emerged from their car.

"Oh my gosh," muttered Countess Camilla Sharra, geting out to attend the Heir along with Countess Nabal, "This is supposed to be summer? I'm freezing my buns off!" Colonel Josephus and the other miltiary aides and security detail either observed the situation around them keenly before handing over protection to the Fradrykhuld Palace personnel or else saluted stiffly and bowed.

"This is just after a storm, silly," said Countess Lavinia Nabal, moving in to help Jocata adjust her cloak. "It rained."

"Rain is warm and nice," protested Camilla.

"You're an idiot, this is a cooler climate," snapped Lavinia.

"I need a bathroom quickly, so one of you scamper and find me one," said Jocasta, interrupting. Her weak bladder was a plague.

"All palaces should have a piss boy," said Count Lalery, getting out nearby genially.

"Your Highness, I will present you to the King of Staalmark and his family," murmured Adon-Zedek.

So Jocasta, escorted by the Ambassador, approached the entrance to the event with her husband, Count Lalery and her own attendants following just behind her.

[Ghant]

“The Brothers Dakmaran”
Fradrykhuld Palace, Near Staalburg
State of Staalmark, Allamunnic States

It was a strange feeling that Prince Michael of Dakmoor had, almost surreal. Arietta, the Red Princess Imperial of Ghant, getting married at last…and at such a young age. Who would have thought? he didn’t necessarily want to be there however, given his own checkered history with the Red Princess, but alas he was expected to be there, and his beloved wife Jocasta would be in attendance. Given all that, how could he not?

It was in his wife’s motorcade that Jocasta held something out for Michael and Count Thomas Lalery to see. Michael tried not to be distracted by his wife’s figure, though often that was an insurmountable task in and of itself. Her eyes flickered with excitement however at the prospect of showing what she was presenting to him and Thomas, and in short order his eyes drifted towards the object in question.

"What's that?" Lalery asked, though Michael suspected that the Count already knew the answer to that.

Jocasta responded "It's a book…"

"A book!" Lalery snatched it, causing her to frown. It’s got...Good God almighty! Moveable type! But if the common folk get hold of such things, it could cause revolution! I will throw it out at once!" he began to open the window.

"Give it back, you lunatic!" she cried. “It's my book, I wrote it!"

Had it been any other man, Michael might have gotten angry and intervened. Yet it was Thomas, a man that Michael both respected and considered a friend, though it hadn’t always been so. Once Michael disdained the man for his brutal antics, though Michael’s time in New Edom taught him that the best way to survive purges, vicious court intrigues and to protect the ones he cared about involved making the right friends. In Michael’s mind, Thomas was the best friend he could have, and even though Jocasta might not realize it, Thomas could do a lot for her.

She grabbed the book back from him as the Count laughed at her. "You're an idiot, it's a book about my vision for restoring righteousness, order and decency to the Region--it's called The Turning of the Die, see? And it has a silhouetted figure on it showing a navigator struggling against a storm...signifying the ship of state."

...I need to take her to northern Ghant, Michael realized as he listened to his wife speak of the book. How can you restore righteousness, order and decency to places where they’ve never existed? “That’s lovely, Jocasta,” Michael said with a smile. “Too many lands have grown rotten with the decay of corruption, debauchery and indiscretion. If only more people had the vision that you do.”

"You're so sensitive, Sissy, you take everything so seriously," said Lalery.

“Is it better to take everything too seriously or not enough things seriously?” Michael posed the question to Thomas. “Take Nathan, case in point…he doesn’t take enough things as seriously as he ought to.”

"I'll read a copy,” Lalery conceded. “This is a dreary place, isn't it?"

"No it is has a beauty all its own, but it does not compare of course with Padan-Aran, but what places do?" Jocasta replied in a rather drained fashion. "Of course these people are often very barbarous, they love their hockey and this bizarre form of rugby they call, improperly, football and their names are like someone spitting up phlegm, but they're a people of honor in their way. What is most appalling about them is their love of socialism and irreligiousness. A perfectly suitable people for Arietta to marry into."

Michael knew a thing or two about the subject that he was willing to share, but not before placing a hand on Jocasta’s shoulder to reassuringly rub it to let her know that he was aware that she was feeling exacerbated. “The Allamunnic States and Ghant have a great degree of common history. In fact, it was the Magnussunn Dynasty from this country that deposed the Gentries, stripping them of their precious throne and attainting them, casting them out into the far reaches of the continent as rebels, until they eventually took it back. The Gentries themselves were originally an Angle house if I recall correctly, the Angles originating in Allamunnika, a very long time ago. Perhaps it’s not a coincidence then that hockey, socialism and irreligiousness seem to transcend both countries.”

Thomas pointed out that. "I pinched Arietta's ass really hard once when I danced with her," said Lalery. "She led me on until I did that."

“…She told everyone that you came on really strong and that she was afraid to pull away from you,” Michael clarified what he had heard. “To be fair you are much larger than she is, and rather intimidating to strangers.”

"Spare me your vulgarity," said Jocasta, looking out the window. "Is Ava still coming?"

"Ava will come with her husband. I miss her," said Lalery a bit more softly.

Jocasta smiled. "I miss her too. Dear Ava, so gentle, so much the pacific balm upon the turmoiled waters of our House. Artistic and kind, I miss her too. And she really cares for you and worries for your happiness, cuz. I hope she is here, it will make you more bearable."

I pity Ava, Michael thought to himself. She has Cassandra to contend with in Ghish. “I’m sure she will be happy to see everyone,” Michael reassured his Edomite companions. “Alexander by all accounts treats her well and gives her a wide berth, I’m sure she’s doing well.” Well was an understatement…she was doing in Ghant what she did in New Edom. Bringing people together, especially the ladies, and creating a sense of fun and elegance that Ghish had been lacking since Sophia’s retreat into her shell.

Michael phased out of the remaining back and forth between Thomas and Jocasta as he looked out the window to gaze upon the palace as they arrived. "Ten-shun!" snapped Colonel Marcus Josephus as Micael and the Obeds emerged from their car.

"Oh my gosh," muttered Countess Camilla Sharra, as she emerged with Jocasta and Countess Lavinia Nabal…the latter someone that Michael always felt awkward being around when his wife was present. "This is supposed to be summer? I'm freezing my buns off!"

“Seems pretty temperate to me,” Michael said as he got out of the car and straightened out his clothes. He was wearing his cavalry guard event uniform, neatly pressed and wrinkle free. His black hair wasn’t as short as it usually was, it was thicker and grew out atop his head, though his face was still clean-shaven as always.

"This is just after a storm, silly," said Countess Lavinia Nabal, moving in to help Jocasta adjust her cloak. "It rained."

"Rain is warm and nice," protested Camilla.

”You should spend more time in Ghant,” Michael teased Countess Sharra. “The rain there is cold and heavy and it will find its way into your socks before it freezes and makes you shiver.”

As the Edomites engaged in witty banter, Adon-Zedek approached Jocasta and informed her that they were to be presented to the Royal Family of Staakmark. This ought to be interesting…

---

ooooooo

---

It was a strange feeling for Prince Martin of Dakmoor, almost surreal. Arietta was someone that Martin had known since she was an infant, having held her and fed her on at least more than one occasion…one time he even changed her diaper. He watched her grow up into a rebellious, rambunctious child and then into a wanton young woman with a hedonistic streak. The strangest thing of all however was that Martin was her first crush, and in a way, all of the men in her life that had staying power were judged by Martin’s standard.

Martin of course never reciprocated that attraction…why would he? He didn’t see her as a romantic interest. She was always his best friend’s little sister, and whenever he saw her, all he could see was the little girl that wore pretty dresses with a doll in her hands. Martin often wondered what went wrong, per say, in her trajectory that led her to become the bane of nobility and royal watchers across the region, the so called red menace and the epitome of Ghantish Imperial dysfunction.

Most people guessed, but Martin believed he knew the answer. You’re only as good as the company you keep. It wasn’t until Arietta started spending more time with her cousins on the Zuria side, and their lowborn companions, that she began her transformation. Perhaps I shouldn’t be too hard on her, he thought soberly. She is getting married to an Allamunnic Crown Prince. That’s got to count for something…

For his part, Allamunnic brides were often considered by King Malibar of Dakmoor for his beloved oldest son and heir. A few that came to mind were Myranda of Skraelingia, Gretchen of Staalmark and Marie of Onneria. The last one was a reach, because she was of Gentry lineage on her mother’s side (Marie’s mother being Princess Caroline, the late Emperor Albert’s only daughter), while Myranda too was a reach, because she was the heir to her respective kingdom.

It was not then without a sense of irony that Arietta would marry into Staalmark. It was no fault of Gretchen’s or of Staalmark’s, but the notion of that match never really took hold in Dakmoor, perhaps due to Martin’s personal apathy and Malibar’s growing frustration for Martin’s lack of enthusiasm. Martin’s fatal flaw, as he understood it (and was often told) was that he was a romantic, who couldn’t care less about the politics.

Enter Maria of Garza. The blonde buxom beauty was also a romantic at heart, and despite being rebuffed by Martin’s parents (Malibar didn’t like that she was of Gentry lineage, and Elizabeth considered her too mentally fragile), she never gave up on her quest to be with Martin, and eventually she won him over. It took some strong-arm tactics to persuade Malibar to accept the match, but eventually he relented due to Martin’s insistence.

The fruit which that tree bore was apparent. On each of Martin’s arms at his now one year old twin daughters Isabella and Valencia, mirror images of each other distinguished only by Isabella’s black dress, and Valencia’s violet dress. Otherwise, they had their long black hair each in the same braided ponytail, their skin was fair and unblemished and they both had rich, deep blue eyes. Like their grandfather the King, their eyes seemed to pierce the room around them.

Martin on the other hand was wearing a black court uniform complete with purple pauldrons and a rich dark violet cape that marked his rank and origin. He kept clean-shaven and his hair somewhat short, though he liked his to grow out a bit more. He had a few good men about him, watching him and his daughters closely. Maria was off somewhere, mingling with kinfolk, leaving Martin and his daughters to their devices.

It didn’t take long for Martin to find someone in the great hall worth speaking to. In a small group he found three individuals of note. Damien Sturridge, the half-Ghantish star of Ghantish football, Prince Lucas of Ghant who was the Emperor’s younger cousin, and none other then Olio Belagorri, the young captain of the Ghish Imperials GHL club, and hockey phenom of his day. On his ringfinger was his Vikandi Cup Championship ring that he had received in 2011.

Damien was a dirty blonde with hazel eyes, and built like a lumberjack despite his trappings as a football star. Lucas on the other hand had sandy brown hair and light blue eyes, and was a thin, lean and strong young man who enjoyed basketball, pilota, polo, rugby and hockey, among other pursuits. Olio wasn’t especially tall nor was he especially strong, but he was fast on the ice and could do things with a puck that many people didn’t think were possible. While Damien was from Onmutu and Lucas from Ghish, Olio was from Gahen, and like many Gaheners he had dark brown hair and blue eyes. All three young men were clean-shaven and well dressed…dressed to impress.

“Hello,” Martin said casually to the group of three. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Lucas said with a smile to the Crown Prince of Dakmoor. The two were friends in a fashion, or at least Lucas was with Michael during their time in New Edom, and any friend of Michael’s was a friend of Martin’s. “We were just discussing the wares, if you know what I mean.”

Of course you were. “I wouldn’t put it past these two scoundrels,” Martin teased Damien and Olio. “Arietta certainly has friends in high places if both of you would turn up.”

“Yeah, we used to hang out after games and stuff,” Olio spoke candidly. “Nothing like that though, mostly just tours and VIP access to team events and stuff. Coach doesn’t want us attracting too much tabloid attention.”

Damien said that “I’ve seen her at exhibition matches and after parties and stuff. We’ve hung out but yeah…nothing like that. Just friends,” he clarified bluntly. “I think she gets a bad rap…maybe she was a bit more crazy when she was a few years younger but I’ve never seen anything unbecoming.”

“Oh I’m not doubting any of you,” the Crown Prince pointed out to them, before his daughters buried their faces in his neck, more than likely because they were shy. “These are my girls by the way, Isabella and Valencia.”

“It’s so hard to tell them apart,” observed Lucas as he glanced around the room, as though he were keeping his eyes out for something…or someone. “I’d designate them colors too…”

It was Damien Sturridge that changed the subject back to what it was originally before Martin arrived. “Now Martin, if you don’t mind me asking…if you weren’t married and you could fuck any woman here, who would you pick?”

Martin glared with narrowed eyes at the football star and said, “you know there are children right in front of you, right?”

“…Well yeah but they’re only one,” Damien defended himself, though with a great sense of unease. “Alright sorry, but still…who would you?”

“You realize if I answer that and it gets back to my wife, she’s not only going to throw a fit but she’s going to find whoever I say and will have to be restrained.” Martin wished that what he just said could be interpreted jokingly, but unfortunately it was probably the truth. “So my answer would be Maria of Garza. I mean, look how beautiful these children are.”

That prompted them to laugh, though Martin didn’t want to indulge their conversation any further because he considered it highly inappropriate. “I’ll leave you guys to it. Try not to get into too much trouble, lest the wrong people notice.” Martin left it to interpretation who the wrong people referred to, before inclining his head and wandering off. The girls looked over their father’s shoulders back at the group of them as he went off into the crowd.

Three things stood out to Martin during his wanderings. The first and most obvious observation was that, for the most part, the Gentries mingled in circles to themselves, with a few here and there mingling with the Allamunnae and others as circumstances and convenience necessitated. A few spared glances at Martin and his girls, though thankfully Maria’s grandmother Bessandra wasn’t one of them. She was in the far side of the room surrounded by other old Ghantish women, and had that not been the case, Bessie would have without a doubt imposed herself upon Martin and squeezed her great-granddaughters to the point that they could hardly breathe, pinch their cheeks and kiss them until their faces were wet with slobber.

Arietta as could be expected was late to the receiving line, with red eyes to boot. More than likely she was off somewhere smoking weed and then remembered what she was expected to do at her own wedding no less. Hence she had eventually turned up and assisted in receiving the people coming in. Interestingly, the Edomites were there just in time, and Arietta received Jocasta will a cool disdain. She was especially warm in her welcome of Michael, as a way of messing with Jocasta, and for Count Lalery she seemed especially forced in her politeness. There were few Edomites at court that she disliked more than Enoch Tubal-Cain and Count Thomas Lalery, but Lalery especially so.

Michael on the other hand was polite to Arietta, but Martin could tell that his younger brother didn’t appreciate Arietta’s fondness for teasing his wife. Martin in some ways pitied his younger brother, who was said to be not as smart, as strong, as tall, as intelligent or as good looking as Martin, and yet all the same was thrust into a more demanding political environment than Dakar, where often the greatest challenge was in determining which noblelady would have the privilege of serving as a lady of court…

Distracted by his observations of the receiving line, Martin failed to notice Isabella reach out in an effort to grab the red hair of a young woman with brown eyes, who was standing with another young brunette woman watching the procession of arrivals enter into the palace grand hall. He only noticed when it was too late, and when he did he said, “Izzy, no!”

To the young women that he didn’t know, he very politely said, “I’m sorry, please excuse my daughter. She has a tendency to grab hair that she thinks is pretty…” Oh that didn’t sound right…Goddamnit…

[The IASM]

Fradrykhuld Palace
Near Rikardsburg
State of Staalmark
Allamunnic States

LILISI

---

The Celestial Princess of the First Rank of Akai, the Court Liaison to the Emperor of Ghant, the daughter of Ditu Jieke was exhausted, incredibly so. While the work on the affairs of the region and trying to work within the nonsensical, enigmatic labyrinthine Akai bureaucracy which her brother had the fortune of commanding, it was not the root issue of this tiredness. As she later learned, the number of flights it would take to gather all the various members of Clan Lazin which were vaguely acceptable to their Ghantish and Allamunnic hosts all across the nation. While she had to ask quite cautiously in some instances and was greeted with the misfortune of the rejection of her admittedly quite pathetic uncle Sanfu. Yet through her friendships with Arietta and Alexandra, she was able to proceed. This was further made increasingly difficult but the utterly vicious weather which was often brought by the Summer Monsoons. She had taken up several hours of her day, and the day before flying over the Tempesta with the misfortune of diminished sleep also. Then there was the egregious amount of time spent on the clothing also, with Lilisi and the girls all wearing the reactionary yet modern clothes which were expected of their rank. The Celestial Princess herself has burdened an imposing set of hanfu with black robes with two dragons circling across them - one silver and one gold yet bearing ruby eyes. This was also on top of a far more modern cheongsam, one which was made from crimson silk and surrounded her flesh leaving little of it visible. Flesh covering was a tradition for the Akai, and it seemed a common theme among the clothing of the guests including the masks. The men were fortunate to wear much of their old military attire, And all of them wore their masks or at least when they were present in a formal capacity. Regardless, now that she and the family accompanying her to the Allamunnic states were at the gates of Fradryhuld Palace - there was a sense of relief that she felt. She and her family emerged from the subtly fortified motorcade with her lumbering giant at her side - Shang. He stood a seven and a half feet and as usual was equipped with his foreboding black helmet, demonic mask and a black all encompassing cloak.

“Are you positively sure that this is a prudent idea,” her great-uncle Prince Zhu-Di inquired in his aged and weak voice, a whisper of the great orator that he used to be. He was the old court liaison to Ghant before Hulang decided that his retirement was due and long overdue it was. He was in his late eighties now and the effects of such age were decidedly visible. He had a tall frail build, with boney hands and skin faded. Yet despite this, he still attempted to retain his formality, his old grandeur. He was a man who once could have been Ditu of Akai but first his brother Long and then his nephew Jieke took that away from him. He was once Prince Laurence of Ghant’s own protege, in a time when Ghant was closer to the Akai. He was once a man who many saw to be best of Akai, bringing it into the modern age and out of its dark past. Now a relic of a bygone age compiling and editing his memoirs for letter publishing. “I recall Arietta quite well, and most of her family for that matter. And then there’s...”

“It is no longer you place to decide uncle,” Prince Qiang Lazin interrupted in his sharp traditional way of speaking. Qiang was a tall, physically imposing marshal of the Celestial Army who was the other relic of the traditionalists and reactionaries which used to dominate Akai court politics. He was a paranoid, bitter and vindictive fellow - often rather shy and solitary in his nature. While not as bad as Yanfeng in Lilisi’s eyes, she still found him distasteful but not pathetic like Sanfu. What he envisioned was the failed corporate state of Sunzhi fully returned. Father brought us strength and order unparalleled, yet wants to go back not forward. He was being followed by his daughters, the bookish Aorta whose name if the Princess recalled her history well enough is derived from an Allamunnic-Ghantish Queen, Shijin whose scheming pride was hidden underneath that mask of hers and finally Housheng who just simply accepted what happened to her. “It was Lilisi’s decision and it was met with my nephew's support.”

“Of course he would, the boy is just entertaining Sanfu’s folly,” a politely indomitable individual began, her voice scattered with the hints of a Selajtrazeni accent. The Celestial Princes Pingan was Jieke’s polar body twin, and Lilisi’s aunt. She shared many of her mother's and her brother's characteristics, that fierce indomitable spirit which was oft personified in that crimson glare they all shared. It seemed to be a recurring trend for women vaguely related to Jieke to be such a character, Youxian, Pingan and Tingzi all falling into these categories, it seemed Lilisi herself was the only exception to this particular rule. Yet there was always a contemptuous hatred Pingan had for her brother the one which led to her abandoning her betrothed. And this was accompanied with a venomous pessimism which made her always entertaining to have present along with a deeply moral character. Yet intriguingly her mask was a mirror image of Jieke’s, its colour scheme however inverted - in a sense a reflection of them physically. The two looked more or less like an alternate version of the other in their youth, “If he is anything like his father, which seems to be the case, Sanfu is merely a glove to touch things too hot for his bare flesh.”

“Always a joy to have you present,” Qiang commented on his half-sister with his faux affability as stark as ever. Lilisi suspected both were smiling underneath their three-eyed masks. We never change, do we? “Then again, it’s a shame your grandson hasn’t had a chance to meet Hulang. I’d imagine the two would get along quite spectacularly. But how is my old ward anyways?”

“Yes, Gylras is doing quite well, I think,” Pingan rather proudly commented from behind her decidedly emotionless mask. “Making exceptional progress in duelling, of course, he moves like lightning now and is just as vicious. This being said he is impatient as ever you know, he lacks the mind for long term strategy it seems.” Gylras was the last relic of Pingan’s own lineage with, her Jaznapral husband and son dead along with his wife. It seemed a curse of the family from the looks of it, with it rarely having more than one member in a generation. The more suspicious types suggest that her ‘soft’ son’s crash was less than accidental with other Selajtrazeni families often been accused of conspiracy. Regardless, Gylras survived and was quickly made a ward of Jieke’s a few years after the incident and then after his demise, he was made Qiang’s. Poor boy probably has felt like has no family for a while Lilisi thought as she gathered her family and studied the building before her.

It was quite like the Gentry’s Inperiala Palace from the looks of it, a hybrid construction which had been built upon for centuries but currently it was dominated by two styles synthesised. Dominant was the Cornellian, Acheronian Neoclassical style which dominated the whole structure. Yet it reminded Lilisi in some areas would find herself reminded of the old mansions of Ceti. It felt homely, grand and comfortable in quite a few senses. Palaces like these were almost never to be found on Lazin estates - the philosophy of their constructions was rarely similar. The Lazins sought to inspire fear and awe with their buildings as well as admiration - a reflection on their divine nature.

This’ll be an interesting day for sure. Lilisi thought as he stared through her mask in her melancholy manner.

[Lacus Magni]

Maria
Fradrykhuld Palace

Not long after their arrival, the Latins had been seen into the Hall and for the herald to announce their names. They were received by the host, King Rodrik, and his family. It was pleasant enough, and short at that to keep things moving along at an orderly pace. It was preferable, at least among some of the Latins. Maria had remarked such a thing to Selene at one point afterwards. But Selene paid her little mind, only nodding after the remark and looking out into the throng of people ahead of them.

“Looking for Audric?” Maria whispered to her sister Selene, who walked right on her side. Leo and Constantine walked just in front of them and shared a laugh from their eavesdropping. Selene was Constantine’s youngest full-sibling, and was fresh off of wrapping up her first year of post-secondary education at one of the many colleges at the University of Adrianople. For a girl with such a warm face and pleasant smile, Selene was notorious for being rather pretentious and generally stuck up. Not so unlike their mother, in fact. Just as always, she was dressed well, wearing a navy designer dress, reaching just above her knees. It left her arms exposed, though reached up over her collarbone and covered her shoulders in a lighter shade of lace.

The Latins clung together once they had moved past the welcoming line, taking in the wide variety of guests. The twins Peter and Poly gravitated towards one another, which they usually did during events like this. The two were had always seemed inseparable, though since Peter returned from his first hockey season away he tended to act more distant. It even prompted Poly to complain to Maria one night that Peter was too cool for her now. The youngest girl, Olivia, was often considered the sweetest and perhaps most naive of the children, but for the time, the thirteen year old hung close by her mother’s side.

“Well...are you?” Selene offered no response, so Maria prodded once again. Theodora Ulpia, their second cousin, joined them as the Latins began to form groups among themselves.

“Am I what?” Selene titled her head with a snap in her voice. She pulled her phone out of her handbag and immediately began texting.

“Are you looking for Audric?” Maria repeated with a sigh, this time in the Greek tongue opposed to Latin. She, along with most other high born or well-educated Latins, would have been just as fluent in Greek as they would their first language. Often times in large groups they would usually elect to speak Greek, under the assumption they might not be as easily understood. Maybe if she didn’t act like an airhead blonde all the time people wouldn’t call her one.

Selene hardly looked up from her phone, but squinted her face and shook her head in unison as she replied in Greek. “What...no. God, Maria I’m not so clingy as some. He...he’ll arrive when he arrives.” But you’ll run right to his side once he walks into the hall all the same.

“Maybe we should find someone else to hang with?” Theodora, her second cousin, whispered to Maria, pulling the end of her braid through her hands. Each of the girls combed over the crowds to look for someone they knew or at the very least an opportunity to find some interesting or handsome men to talk with. “I see plenty of handsome men lingering about. There’s, umm, one of the Dakmaran fellows, the name escapes me, but he’s wearing a cape.”

“Do you fancy superheroes then, Dora?” Maria teased her second cousin.

“Oh, I see Nathan over there,” Theodora added with a faint point as the girls overheard the herald announce further guests. “It looks like he’s got two girls in his arms already.”

Maria made sure to stand up tall, brushing a hand down to front of her purple dress before feigned disinterest. “Oh?” after some time she took a look around to see him carrying his daughters, causing Dora some laughter.

“I’d make sure he was gelded by now if he were my husband,” Selene finally pulled her head up from her phone, even if for a brief moment before sending another text. “I don’t know how or why his wife puts up with it. The poor woman.”

“Hush now,” Maria said in a harsh whisper when she noticed her cousins Princesses Diana and Theodora of Ghant strolling over. Diana appeared to be her usual calm and collected self, whereas Theodora flashed smiles at whomever they passed along the way.

“Please tell me you aren’t still in love with him,” Selene gave her a look a shock, only noticing her cousins and the reason for being told to quiet after the fact. “I mean…”

“Who are you in love with now, Maria?” Princess Theodora posed to her cousin, also in Greek, when the two girls finally arrived with smiles. Each exchanged a hug with the three Latin women. “A lucky man, I expect.”

“Thea! Diana! So good to see you both,” Maria embraced each of her cousins in turn, trading light welcoming kisses on each girls cheeks. Her own face was on the verge of turning red at the talk of Nathan, so she entirely ignored the point in the hopes no one pressed and it was quickly forgotten.

Selene immediately shoved her phone back into her bag once her cousins appeared. She even inspected Theodora’s dress in awe. “My God, this is just beautiful. You pull it off wonderfully,” she was genuinely impressed, taking the liberty of taking a touch of her cousin’s short-sleeve, skin colored sequin dress. Diana was dressed just as nicely, though more conservative and not to stand out quite as much as her younger sister.

“Oh please, have a look at yourself why don’t you, Selie,” Thea immediately pushed the compliment back, causing Selene to blush. Then she latched around one of Maria’s arms and asked her first question again with a cute laugh. “But really now, who’s fallen for the lovely Maria Sophia Euphemia Constantina this time?”

Maria laughed in an attempt to shrug off the question, and better get a look about the large hall. She spotted a group of three men: two of brown hair - though one of light, the other dark - and a blonde. “Selene’s speaking nonsense. It’s what she does best,” Maria added a tease at her sister, who quickly stuck her tongue out in a playful manner. “Dora and I were just commenting on some of the other guests...simple fun and games to pass the time.”

“I’m going to find Leo,” Diana smiled, lightly placing a hand on Thea’s shoulder, which she acknowledged with a nod. “I’ll catch up with you all in a little while.”

“Oh, my favorite game. I’d love to join in!” Thea let go of Maria’s arm and lightly clapped her hands out of excitement. “There are plenty of athletes here, you know. Footballers, hockey stars, gridiron...gridironers? Is that what they’re called, the other football players? I went to a game once, it was exceptionally boring. Stop, then play. Then stop and everybody talks for a bit. Then repeat it all again,” Thea began to ramble on, causing the others to smile. “Though it’s not as bad as basketball, what with all the squeaking.”

“All theses politicians, lords, and royalty here and you start with athletes,” Selene mocked, pulling her phone out immediately as it buzzed. “They’re usually nothing but commoners.”

“Well Maria has a thing for athletes, doesn’t she?” Thea commented with a teasing smile.

“Do I?” Maria pulled her head back some, but Dora nodded her head with a laugh.

“I’m sure you’ve dated a few. There was that recent one...I forget his name. Proculus or Kyrillos maybe,” Thea commented. “The Greek footballer Uncle didn’t like.”

“Zeno,” Maria corrected, not entirely amused with the turn of the conversation. “And we only we only went on the one date...like a year and a half ago.”

“Ha, yes! That’s the one,” Thea laughed boisterously. “He only had the one name…”

“...because, and I quote ‘marketing purposes,’ we wouldn’t understand,” Selene finished Thea’s sentence.

Maria bit her lip. “Surely there’s something we can talk about other than men. Maybe I should go help Diana find Leo,” she motioned away, but was pulled back by Thea while the three girls shared in their laugher.

“Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy,” Thea continued to laugh, brushing her braided hair over her shoulder to her back.

The group of girls continued to chat for a little while longer, thankfully about things other than men. Mostly school and other monotonous things, Though Selene continued to be enamoured with Thea’s dress and vice versa. They spoke of Selene having just finished her first year at university, Thea wrapping up a gap year, and Dora talking something of her job at the Education Ministry. Selene and Dora even ended up talking about their new horses for a time. That was when Maria drifted off mentally, inspecting the hall, though with the hopes of locating her brothers, along with Leo and Justin.

First she spotted who she thought were some Allamunnic noblemen, but she wasn’t all that knowledgeable on most of their noble families. However, she did recognize the national leader Stevan Grimmeburger, who seemed to have plenty of people hovering around him. She spotted her family eventually. Peter and Poly seemed to almost move into a small group all their own, though still near enough to the others. She caught Peter pointing at something, or someone, but Poly quickly pushed his hand down. Justin must have had his eye on Maria the whole time, or at least she suspected, wasting little time in waving her to come over with his hand and a smile.

“Be right back, I think Justin’s calling for me,” Maria said while Dora and Selene continued to speak a whole heap of nonsense about horses that Maria didn’t understand.

She felt a tug as she began to walk away. “I think I’ll tag along,” Thea smiled to her older cousin. “I don’t care much for all the talk of mares, colts and whatever else they were saying.” The two cousins took began a leisurely pace to reach the other Latins, taking in their surroundings and all the other guests around the hall.

[Allamunnic States]

When the Latins, Dewedish, Edomites, and other arrivals entered, they would, like other guests before them, find themselves in a luminous, naturally-lit room of elliptical shape. The Front Hall was painted in relatively pastel colors, mostly in whites, off-whites, and light browns, with some lilacs, pale yellows, pastel blues, and light greens painted in floral patterns along the lower walls. There were numerous windows, both at ground level, at a higher level (where the twin staircases, wrapped around the far wall, elevated pedestrians to), and across much of the central roof, a flat dome dominated by skylight that showed the blue sky and summer sun. The natural light helped alleviate some of the chill the Bluwaald region experienced year-round, and the room was in fact somewhat warmer than the outside, although not uncomfortably so. The room's brightness was amplified by the polished marble floor, which reflected the light, leaving shadows faint.

As they entered, they would also hear a herald announce their arrival. "From the Allied States of New Edom, please welcome Her Royal Highness Princess Jocasta, her husband Prince Michael, Count Thomas Lalery,

They would approach the Sproek family, who had also been joined by the bride-to-be, the Ghantish Princess Imperial Arietta, who had, as per usual, run a little late to join the receiving line. The Edomites would exchange pleasantries with the hosts, the typical pro-forma niceties that conveyed gratitude, welcome, and general good feeling, wrapped into a nice, vague package.

From there, they would step to the side, possibly toward the refreshment table. The table was stocked with relatively light fare, although the quantities were sufficient that anyone who had not already lunched could do so without being in any danger of clearing the table.

The tables were on opposite sides of the room, long, rectangular platforms running perpendicular to the door. They were set up to mirror one another, with the side nearest the doors having stacks of light plates, perhaps nine inches in diameter, made from a plain, translucent glass. The plates were obviously well-made, but were clearly intended for a function as informal as the welcome luncheon was intended to be.

Moving away from the door, the first set of plates would have an assortment of light sandwiches on them. Between small pieces of bread would be a layer of ham, roast beef, or chicken salad, some lettuce, maybe a small slice of tomato, and, depending on the sandwich, a condiment of one type or another (mayonnaise being the most common, followed by mustard). The ham and roast beef sandwiches were accompanied by swiss cheese in the case of the former, provolone in the case of the latter, and the entire sandwich, in all cases, was made to be eaten in no more than three bites, unless one were an unusually dainty diner.

Proceeding from there were an assortment of salads. The first was a traditional-enough lettuce-based salad, supplemented by slices of carrot, cabbage, tomatoes and croutons, with an assortment of dressings available including blue cheese, a vinaigrette dressing, and a honey mustard dressing. Past that was a fruit-based salad, composed entirely of fresh apples, honeydew melon, and cantaloupe, blueberries, and blackberries tossed together in a bowl.

Beyond those lay a handful of different foods intended to serve as sides and complements to the rest. The largest bowl was filled with hand-cut potato chips, garnished with a fairly light, but noticeable portion of salt. Also present in the assortment were semi-sweet rolls, a plate with several cheeses running the gamut of sharpness and creaminess (including brie), made from cow’s milk, sheep’s milk, and goat’s milk alike. There was also a platter of charcuterie, with including a rather famous brand of salt-cured ham from the Piekslynd-Bluwaald foothills, from a famous breed of pigs fed on acorns. There were a few small bowls of lightly-salted butter, and even a bowl of an airy mayonnaise. Here again, were slices of cantaloupe and apple, and bowls of walnuts, meant to pair with the meats and cheeses.

Finally, as a guest reached the end of the table, they would find themselves at the deserts. Again, there was nothing there that was especially heavy. There were cookies with morsels of chocolate, and fluffy brownies, fruit tarts, and an ambrosia fruit salad, using a host of imported fruits, coconut, pineapple, pecans, and bananas.

---

The Edomites

A few feet off from the Sproeks, about equidistant from the tables, the Hendrsunns had congregated. Several representatives of one of the Federation’s most prominent, politically-active families, had knotted themselves together, along with the nation’s head of state. Grimmeburger was ostensibly talking shop with the tall, clean-cut Prime Minister Erik Hendrsunn, who headed up the Assembly, the lower chamber of the Allamunnic legislative Moet. Also present was the grayed Eleonur Hendrsunn II, the youngest, and only surviving daughter of the late Despot Lady Eleonur. A few months ago, the former governor of Upper Tyrrslynd had been a hale and healthy woman of 68 years, but a few months of chemotherapy had caused her to almost shrivel up. Although she still had a pleasantly-surprising amount of energy and a remarkably sunny outlook, it was hard to ignore the toll the treatment had taken on her.

The crowd of Hendrsunns was studded with political stars, rising and established alike. Beyond the Prime Minister and former governor, the current governor of Upper Tyrrslynd, Waaltur Hendrsunn, was also present, shorter and darker of hair than his cousin Erik, and less handsome, although not without a certain warm charm. All of Eleonur’s children were present, including her eldest daughter Helene, a level-headed councilwoman on the Kaepenhulm City Council, and her middle child, a steely son named Henrik (after his grandfather) who served as a police chief in Tyrrswatch. Stefany, one of their cousins, and a state legislator in Lower Tyrrslynd, had also come, as was Daanyl, the mayor of Nordfurt, along with the youngest, Ellie, the third in the line to be named Eleonur, and the former ambassador to New Edom. All of them bore a certain resemblance in their sharp features, hair in varying shades of brown or dirty blonde, and together, it was hard to deny that they trended toward a certain level of attractiveness to complement their ample political clout.

And they were rubbing elbows with the Generalissimo. Admittedly, Grimmeburger was only paying the barest of attention to the conversation, sipping on what was perhaps an undue amount of cider since his arrival (one of the considerable number of liquid refreshments available from the four minibars in the ‘corners’ of the room), watching the arrivals roll in, eyes peeled for foreign dignitaries. There were a few in particular he was waiting to see, and as he saw one set of them, the Edomites, enter the room, he gave a relevant Hendrsunn a nudge.

Feeling him bump, Ellie Hendrsunn looked back at him, following his glance. Their non-verbal communication had gotten much better over the last few months, for more than one reason (and one of which they had pointedly not yet disclosed to her family. Or much of anyone, for that matter). As she followed his eyes, she caught sight of notables from the nation she had previously represented the Federation to. Nodding back at Stevan, Ellie spoke.

“Shall we greet our Edomite guests?” she asked him. Grimmeburger nodded, offering an arm in what was a somewhat uncharacteristically courtly gesture. Chuckling, she accepted his arm for a moment before they settled into a much more natural side-by-side walk, both of them with their arms by their sides, with a slight natural swing to them. Moments later, they reached the Edomites, wherever they were in the room. As they approached, Grimmeburger opened with the proper methods of address for each person, offering to shake the hands of each Edomite dignitary. “Welcome to the Allamunnic States. I understand our hosts have already welcomed you, but I wanted to convey additional thanks for making the trek up to our cold, rainy abode here in the north,” he said with a small, but genuine smile.

When he had finished, Ellie stepped forward as well. Since she lacked any official position in the government, she used more deferential forms of address for the highly-ranked Edomites, before speaking. “It is good to see you all. I apologize for my sudden resignation earlier this year. There were some… unexpected developments in our family that made it impossible to focus on the roles of the Ambassador to the degree they required. I hope that you have found Ambassador Wyndur a suitable replacement,” she added.

---

Martin of Ghant

Rosanna felt a tug at the back of her head that quickly turned painfully sharp. She let out a rather undignified squeak at the pull, and turned around to see that an infant had seen and pulled at her hair. As soon as she had whirled, the child’s father was apologizing profusely.

“I’m sorry, please excuse my daughter. She has a tendency to grab hair that she thinks is pretty…”

The man holding the child (and now, Ro could see, it was two children) was rather charming in his own right. Although Rosanna was only rarely inclined to be sour with a stranger, this fact likely helped her keep her composure and enabled her to respond with a laugh and a smile of her own.

“Oh, it’s fine. Just a little bit of a surprise,” she said. “It’s not the first time something like this has happened,” she added. “Though I grant it’s been a while since the last offense,” she said. “I’m Ro. What’s your name?” she asked the newcomer. Behind her, Lyna had made the same observation as Rosanna, and had quickly slid to her friend’s side.

“And I’m Lyna. It’s nice to meet you,” the curvaceous Staalmarker added, smiling a little more widely than Ro’s polite grin. “Your daughters are just the cutest!” she exclaimed. If Ro were any judge, she suspected her friend might have been hitting the sauce a little bit prior to her arrival. Lyna was not usually anywhere near this forward under normal circumstances. He’s clearly married, to boot, Lyna. This is clearly the wrong tree to bark up.

---

The Latins

While they continued to avidly discuss horses, Dora and Selena managed to drift slightly into the path of a knot of the groomsmen who had joined the social fray. Due to their attendance at the same, exclusive academy during their grade school years, Prince Andrik of Draakurr, the twins Harald and Viktur Riktunshof, Bryndyn Redmunn, and several of the groom's cousins were well acquainted with each other even outside of the context of the wedding. Bryndyn was a smaller, somewhat bookish-looking young man with rusty hair, but as it was he was essentially wandering in the wake of three bigger, more confident young men.

Harald, Viktur, and Andrik were all well-built young men, although while Harald and Viktur were of relatively average height, Andrik was almost as tall as the groom, shorter by only an inch. Where his good friend Vitus of Staalmark was ebon-haired, Andrik's hair was a sandy blonde, and he had eyes of an almost luminous blue. He was well-muscled, naturally athletic, had a chiseled jaw, and it had been speculated that an artist would be hard-pressed to find a more striking form of the Allamunnic male physical ideal. The Riktunshofs that flanked him were, like much of the rest of their family, red-haired, lightly freckled, and athletic, while possessing more wiry builds than the friend between them. Both of them were strapping young men in their own rights, but standing next to Prince Andrik did them almost no favors in that regard.

As the three walked along somewhat aimlessly, engrossed in their conversation about all the guests and what promising avenues they could go down in various pursuits, they quite literally collided with the young Latin ladies, due to the fact that the groomsmen were not paying the slightest attention to the ground directly ahead of them. In a small mercy, they were walking slowly enough that nobody fell or stumbled overmuch at the slow impact, but it did cause quite a bit of embarrassment all around.

While Viktur and Harald were somewhat alarmed at the unnoticed obstacles to their progress, Andrik began apologizing profusely. "Oh, goodness! I am so sorry, ladies, are you okay?" It did not appear that anyone had dropped anything as a result of the collision, but he quickly reached out and put a hand on Dora's shoulder as she swayed slightly. "Again, so sorry. That is entirely my fault. Should have been watching where we were going better." The words came out in a rush, causing his still-resonant voice to pitch slightly upward with nervousness.

---

The Akai

As per usual, the Lazins cut an unusual sight in any crowd they were a part of in the nations of Cornellia. They were not helped, to put it mildly, by the reputation that the Lazins had in the Federation. Earlier Ditors, and the Akai state as a whole, had been used as something of a national boogeyman for years by the Allamunnae, ever since the fateful Tempesta War. There were a not inconsiderable number of people in the room who had grown up with such fear-mongering, and whether or not it was justified, such tales almost always had an effect.

Thankfully, there were Allamunnae present who were well-informed enough, and had significant enough business, to ignore those factors and approach the Akai guests. Anessa Maarks and Stannis Lynnun, two of the leaders of the Federation’s ruling coalition, noticed the Akai, standing in something of an island in the crowd, and after brief conferring, began walking toward the Lazins and their entourage. Uncertain of the proper protocol for approaching members of the Lazin dynasty, they went for a generic gesture of respect, but with only a small amount of deference. They both gave deep nods to the Lazins as they approached, followed by an offering of their hands to shake, as was the norm for Allamunnic greetings; despite the existence of nobility, Allamunnic greeting habits tended to be rather egalitarian in nature.

“We bid you welcome to the Allamunnic States, your Heavenly Highnesses,” Anessa said, straightening. Behind her, the substantially older Lynnun remained quiet, although there was a vague, pleasant expression on his face. “I realize it has been quite some time since any member of your dynasty has come to the Federation, so we hope this will be a pleasant visit for you all.” The Chancellor paused for a moment to gather her thoughts, then added “We have heard many good things about the members of this delegation.”

---

Other Allamunnae

As the guests arrived, the Izaaksunn siblings moved in a clump, down the stairs into the milling crowd. Marie, tall and athletic, lead the way, catching more than a little attention courtesy of a dress that alternated white stripes with brilliant red ones. The dress fell just below her knees, and covered her fairly well above the waist, as well, but her graceful gait was still apparent. At her side walked Ophelia, who, while several inches shorter than her eldest sister, was also notably curvier, having a figure more like her mother's, while Marie favored their father's side. Behind them walked their twin siblings, Aetius, who was taller than any of his sisters, and was wearing a tan sport jacket and light shirt that fit closely enough to showcase his athletic frame, and Grace, the softest of the siblings in form, but the sharpest in mind, wearing a light, blue dress that fell to her ankles, providing plenty of skin coverage, but doing fairly little to disguise her shape.

They made their way over to the refreshment table, and Marie was struck by a familiar face. Not that of a friend, but of an adversary. She remembered from the Cornellian Cup the... embarrassing incident in which the Ghantish striker, Damien Sturridge had presented her with a rose. She was still unsure what that had been about, but seeing the man stirred a competitive fire that lay dormant in the Princess much of the time off of the pitch.

Elsewhere, Honorius Waalturs, the well-built mayor of Skarrsboro and a former National Team gridiron player, a square-jawed former athlete that still looked the part, and carried a certain rugged charm, despite a nose slightly crooked that suggested it had been broken at some point in the past. He was speaking with the Lieutenant Governor of Upper Skraelingia, Sofya Rudulf, who was considered one of the front runners for the Labor Party's presidential candidacy. Rudulf was a plain, but not homely woman in her early forties, with short brown hair and an even-keeled demeanor. They had been joined by the King of Skraelingia, Junn III, and his husband, Maarkus, a handsome, if aging royal couple who were scanning the crowd with pleasant, if somewhat detached expressions. All four of the group were in light suits, comfortable in the warmer weather, but not especially fancy.

Their two daughters, Myranda and Anhyld had wandered off, ostensibly to seek refreshments, although they had been hovering for far too long at one end of the right side table for that to be the case. Myranda, dark brown hair in a French braid and wearing a green blouse and close-fitting off-white pants and dark (perhaps dark brown) pumps, cut a striking, clean hourglass figure. Next to her, her younger, but somewhat taller sister, Anhyld, was much less buttoned-down, wearing a flowery blue-and-yellow sundress that showed off pale legs, her strawberry-blonde hair in a long ponytail that she had pulled over her shoulder, quietly swaying in place to the sound of a summery tune played by a band stationed directly under the main balcony where the stairwells met.

[New Edom]

Michael was, as usual, good at being jocular and charming, and soothed his wife's rufled fathers about Lalery's teasing, made her smile at the compliments he paid her and made her ladies in waiting laugh at how he responded to Camilla's complaints about the cold. To Jocasta's inner circle, Michael was a good fellow--he was solid without distracting from the virtues of their princess.

Arm in arm, they approached the entrance, Lalery just behind, the others trailing after them. At this time King Elijah IV was in Adiron sealing the deal with an Arbites-Adiran peace, while Queen Mara was very much with childa nd unable to travel. But Princess Ava, her ladies and Count Alexander Domris would also be present.

When the Edomites entered, they would, like other guests before them, find themselves in a luminous, naturally-lit room of elliptical shape. The Front Hall was painted in relatively pastel colors, mostly in whites, off-whites, and light browns, with some lilacs, pale yellows, pastel blues, and light greens painted in floral patterns along the lower walls. There were numerous windows, both at ground level, at a higher level (where the twin staircases, wrapped around the far wall, elevated pedestrians to), and across much of the central roof, a flat dome dominated by skylight that showed the blue sky and summer sun. The natural light helped alleviate some of the chill the Bluwaald region experienced year-round, and the room was in fact somewhat warmer than the outside, although not uncomfortably so. The room's brightness was amplified by the polished marble floor, which reflected the light, leaving shadows faint.

As they entered, they heard herald announce their arrival. "From the Allied States of New Edom, please welcome Her Royal Highness Princess Jocasta, her husband Prince Michael, Count Thomas Lalery,

They would approach the Sproek family, who had also been joined by the bride-to-be, the Ghantish Princess Imperial Arietta, who had, as per usual, run a little late to join the receiving line. The Edomites would exchange pleasantries with the hosts, the typical pro-forma niceties that conveyed gratitude, welcome, and general good feeling, wrapped into a nice, vague package. Arietta seemed rather cool and distant to Jocatsa and Lalery. Neither seemed offended by this, and Lalery in fact just winked at Airetta and moved on. Jocasta however paused, and said, "Well, you are getting married at last. I hope that you will do well with this. You are now arrived in the public eye as a person of consequence, cousin Arietta. I will be available should you need advice or help. And may your union be blessed with all that God can provide. And to your husband, the same, with all blessings and hopes for the future and all good things, that the blessings of God will rain down and prosper you even as the soul prospers."

With that, satisfied, she moved on to greet others present.

Lalery murmured to Michael, "Damn, is that Nathan's cousin Anastasia? If I had not set my sights elswehre I'd want her. She got her eye on anyone?"

From there they went on to the refreshment tables where Jocasta piled her plate with fruit in an intersting pattern and where Lalery sampled this and that. "Northerners either eat stuff that's bland as baby food or else it tastes lke vinegar," he grumbled quietly to Camilla.

"Oh, is that Prince Lucas? My gosh, he looks nice doesn't he?"

"Yeah, I'm so into men that I think he's to die for," snorted Lalery.

"I thought I was talking to Lavinia," she snapped, turning to that owrthy, who was following Jocata wondering if she should sneak some sandwiches, she was famished because she had been smoking up a fit of weed on the plane to relax her nerves.

---

The Edomites

“Shall we greet our Edomite guests?” she asked him. Grimmeburger nodded, offering an arm in what was a somewhat uncharacteristically courtly gesture. Chuckling, she accepted his arm for a moment before they settled into a much more natural side-by-side walk, both of them with their arms by their sides, with a slight natural swing to them. Moments later, they reached the Edomites, wherever they were in the room. As they approached, Grimmeburger opened with the proper methods of address for each person, offering to shake the hands of each Edomite dignitary. “Welcome to the Allamunnic States. I understand our hosts have already welcomed you, but I wanted to convey additional thanks for making the trek up to our cold, rainy abode here in the north,” he said with a small, but genuine smile.

Jocasta said, "It is a pleasure to see you again, Generalissimo, and you are looking so relaxed that I wonder if we could bottle your secret, for a head of state to appear so after the no dbout many cares you have...but I am glad of it. And I thank you for your greeting. You know my husband, Prince MIchael of Dakmoor of course, and my cousin, Count Lalery, our Minister of Finance and my cousin?"

"Thank you for the personal touch, sir," said Lalery with a shake of the hand that suggested that unlike most Edomites, he knew how to do it. Most Edomites either shook too hard and long or offered a dead fish handshake. "Great football season so far."

When he had finished, Ellie stepped forward as well. Since she lacked any official position in the government, she used more deferential forms of address for the highly-ranked Edomites, before speaking. “It is good to see you all. I apologize for my sudden resignation earlier this year. There were some… unexpected developments in our family that made it impossible to focus on the roles of the Ambassador to the degree they required. I hope that you have found Ambassador Wyndur a suitable replacement,” she added.

"No, he isn't," said Lalery.

"Cousin Thomas!" said Jocasta.

"He's not half as pretty," said Lalery with a smile. "Some of the officers and young gentlemen at our embassy have made bets about who can dance with you the most tonight. You're going to have sore feet unless you get them to back off. Let me know and I'll frighten them away."

"Please ignore my cousin's...I'm not even sure what to call it," said Jocasta. "I hope that things have improved."

Elsewhere, Honorius Waalturs, the well-built mayor of Skarrsboro and a former National Team gridiron player, a square-jawed former athlete that still looked the part, and carried a certain rugged charm, despite a nose slightly crooked that suggested it had been broken at some point in the past. He was speaking with the Lieutenant Governor of Upper Skraelingia, Sofya Rudulf, who was considered one of the front runners for the Labor Party's presidential candidacy. Rudulf was a plain, but not homely woman in her early forties, with short brown hair and an even-keeled demeanor. They had been joined by the King of Skraelingia, Junn III, and his husband, Maarkus, a handsome, if aging royal couple who were scanning the crowd with pleasant, if somewhat detached expressions. All four of the group were in light suits, comfortable in the warmer weather, but not especially fancy.

Their two daughters, Myranda and Anhyld had wandered off, ostensibly to seek refreshments, although they had been hovering for far too long at one end of the right side table for that to be the case. Myranda, dark brown hair in a French braid and wearing a green blouse and close-fitting off-white pants and dark (perhaps dark brown) pumps, cut a striking, clean hourglass figure. Next to her, her younger, but somewhat taller sister, Anhyld, was much less buttoned-down, wearing a flowery blue-and-yellow sundress that showed off pale legs, her strawberry-blonde hair in a long ponytail that she had pulled over her shoulder, quietly swaying in place to the sound of a summery tune played by a band stationed directly under the main balcony where the stairwells met.

"Damn there's some nice hips here tonight," enthused Daniel Cleopas, the First Striker for the New Edomite National Football Team. The lean wiry man was trying to resist drinking too much too fast, but he was nervous about the company he was keeping. He was ding a kind of PR tour to do two things--promote the New Edomite league as well as get more trading and more visiblity for the better players. He had done very well in the 2014 and 2015 Regional Cups. Due to regional tensions 2016 had not quite gotten off the ground and so that wasn't his fault.

"They feed them well up here," observed Major Count Max "The Lance" Sharra, the Military Attache to the Embassy to the Allaunnic States, sipping his drink and glancing around. 'It's all the meat and pastry. "Look at those two, the blondes there. Like honey on halvah."

Cleopas said, "Making me hungry. Ever been with a blonde, Count?"

"I have not," said Max. A shadow fell over his face, thinking of the woman he had lost in Jedoria. But that was another time, another place, and he must move on from that.

Cleopas wore a formal suit and tie, a contrast of light blue blazer, crimson shirt and a darker blue tie, his dark hair slightly ruffled, his naturally olive tanned skin a bit flushed, dark eyes avidly taking in all the fancy folk around him that he rarely got to see up close in New Edom. The AS was a lot more easy going for sure. His wiry lean body looked rangy and fit in his suit.

Beside him, Max was easily as athletic, though more from tennis and polo than football. He was a consummate rider, with strong legs and shoulders, and had an air of swagger about him that was as confident as Cleopas with the addition of high birth, being the older son to a Minister of the Interior and Count, and he had striking features, lighter olive than Cleopas. "Come here," he said in af riendly way, "i want to introduce you to my sister." He put up a warning finger. "Don't read anything into it."

Cleopas hid a bit of embarrassment; of course he'd never dream of hitting on Max's sister. they were friends, but he never forgot what class he was. "Thanks..."

Thehy began to move towards Camilla and Lavinia at the buffet table, but this would take them near the two sisters they had just seen. Myranda and Anhyld. Max wasn't really going to approach them directly yet unless they approached him; this was a soft recon. After all there were other women in the room to his liking, and he was in no hurry. Cleopas was about to make some silly remark or other, he could tell, looking at them both with interest.

"I'm getting a dog while I'm here," he told Cleopas.

"Er, what?"

"A dog. An interesting northern one," said Max. "Just can't decide what kind."

"Oh..."

[Ghant]

“Who’s That Lady?”
Fradrykhuld Palace, Near Staalburg
State of Staalmark, Allamunnic States

Martin of Ghant

The young woman that Isabella grabbed a handful of hair of seemed startled at first, and then she said to Martin after a fashion “Oh, it’s fine. Just a little bit of a surprise.” Fortunately she didn’t seem to upset. “It’s not the first time something like this has happened,” she added. “Though I grant it’s been a while since the last offense.”

What a relief, Martin thought to himself with a smile. Apparently she gets her hair grabbed often…by babies that is…

“I’m Ro. What’s your name?” she asked the newcomer. The young brunette behind her came up to stand beside her companion.

“And I’m Lyna. It’s nice to meet you,” the curvy brunette said with a wide grin. “Your daughters are just the cutest!” she exclaimed.

“Why thank you,” Martin returned to pleasant expression. “I am Martin, Crown Prince of Dakmoor. My sister Sophia is the Empress of Ghant, and Arietta’s sister-in-law. I’ve been friends of the family for as long as I can remember, so naturally I couldn’t miss such an occasion as this. Are you acquainted with the prospective bride and groom?” he asked them curiously, though despite his better judgment, he found himself looking more at Lyna then he did at Ro…

Lucas

The small cadre of sporty young Ghantar found their way towards the refreshment table, where Lucas thought he’d say hello to his Onnerian cousins, chief among them Marie who was wearing a great dress of red and white stripes…she trying to pull off the lifeguard look or something? he debated whether or not he’d tease her about that, but figured he wouldn’t, because Damien would be doing plenty of that.

“Well well well,” Damien Sturridge waltzed up to the table beside Marie. “If it isn’t Princess Marie of Onneria, famed Allamunnic striker. Though as I seem to recall from our Cup match, you didn’t do a lot of striking. Oh, but you’re certainly making up for it now, striking as you are in that dress…”

“Now now,” Olio shook his head. “Let’s not be too testy, Damien. What is it that you football players say? Keep it on the pitch?” the hockey star laughed. “Besides, her mother’s family owns the club I play for, so let’s not get me in the doghouse.” It was commonly known, or so Lucas assumed, that the Gentries owned the Ghish Imperials franchise, of which Olio was the young captain. Though he won a cup in his rookie season, the franchise was in the wilderness now, getting bounced in the second round of the playoffs every year it seemed like.

Lucas introduced all of them to each other for the sake of polite expectations. “Hey guys,” he said to his cousins, “these are Olio Belagorri, captain of the Ghish Imperials, and Damien Sturridge, striker of the Ghantish national football team and scoring champion.” To his friends he said, “these are my cousins Marie, Ophelia, Grace and Aetius.”

“…Is that the same Ophelia that the Emperor is always telling me Hamlet jokes about during team social events?” Olio asked curiously.

“…Yeah, that’s the one,” Lucas said with a slight groan.

Lucas could tell that Olio suddenly felt awkward. “…Wow, I thought he was joking about that.”

“Oh no, cousin Ophelia is real. He wasn’t making that up…” Lucas himself was feeling distracted by Camilla Sharra across the room, but he had to keep playing it cool. So he forced himself to focus on the social situation before him, and hopefully keeping Damien and Marie from kicking each other like they seemed to try to do during their cup match. Damien was one of the few Ghantar on the team that didn’t pussyfoot around her, and at times it even seemed like he played her harder. Many sports analysts blamed the 0-0 final score on the fact that Marie was playing on the Allamunnic squad and that the Ghantish were too afraid to touch her. Damien, however, was most definitely not afraid…

Michael

As the Edomite party entered, the herald announced their arrival. "From the Allied States of New Edom, please welcome Her Royal Highness Princess Jocasta, her husband Prince Michael, Count Thomas Lalery.”

That’s certainly a shorter announcement then they give in Ghant, Michael thought as he recalled the lengthy titles that the Ghantish heralds would often rattle off. Michael was a bit distracted by everything that was going on, but observed his wife and the Count exchanging pleasantries with the Sproeks. Arietta as he expected didn’t seem thrilled, and then to top it off, Jocasta spoke at length to her.

“Well, you are getting married at last. I hope that you will do well with this. You are now arrived in the public eye as a person of consequence, cousin Arietta. I will be available should you need advice or help. And may your union be blessed with all that God can provide. And to your husband, the same, with all blessings and hopes for the future and all good things, that the blessings of God will rain down and prosper you even as the soul prospers."

“Thanks,” Arietta said dryly. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she finished, as though she meant I won’t keep that in mind. Michael knew Arietta well enough to know what she was thinking. That she’s already a person of consequence, and that she doesn’t need Jocasta’s advice. At least Arietta didn’t say anything of the sort, although her tone left much to be desired…

Lalery murmured to Michael, "Damn, is that Nathan's cousin Anastasia? If I had not set my sights elsewhere I'd want her. She got her eye on anyone?"

Michael nearly chocked on the air in his lungs when Lalery told him that, and it took a moment to recompose himself. “…Yeah, that’s Anastasia…Cassandra’s sister. Haven’t seen her in years. She’s a black sheep, so I wouldn’t know.” Anastasia was always away from court in her own little world on the island of Abaza, and most likely only emerged to take part in her cousin Arietta’s wedding.

The group headed towards the refreshment table, where Michael and Jocasta helped themselves to some fruit. Then he heard Camilla say, "oh, is that Prince Lucas? My gosh, he looks nice doesn't he?"

"Yeah, I'm so into men that I think he's to die for," snorted Lalery, which prompted Michael to laugh.

"I thought I was talking to Lavinia," Camilla snapped, while Michael casually addressed the Count.

“Well to be fair Thomas, I’m not into men either, but I will acknowledge that Lucas is good looking young man. Not as much as you of course,” he teased his friend.

Anastasia

The elusive Princess Anastasia of Ghant was not one for family get-togethers. She’d rather go swimming with sharks, because in her mind, the sharks were less likely to bite her. In fact, if Arietta didn’t specifically call her and ask her to be in her bridal party, she wouldn’t have left Abaza at all to attend. It wasn’t anything personal, it was just that…God my family is so fucking insufferable!

The wayward princess was the fourth child born to Prince Richard of Ghant and Princess Minka of Nekulturnya, coming after Cassandra, Bryan and Christopher, respectively. She was born on April Fool’s Day of 1994, so it seemed that even the moment of her birth was some sort of punchline. Alas, from that day, the fact that she was an Imperial Princess of Ghant was never lost upon her.

Cassandra disliked Anastasia from the beginning. Before Anastasia was born, Cassandra was the only girl, and relished in her position. Anastasia was born when Cassandra was five, and by all measures, was acutely aware that she then had to share with her little sister. Cassandra doesn’t like to share. And so much of her early life was spent dealing with being tormented by her older sister, a girl that Anastasia had come to despise for her petty cruelty.

One thing that Anastasia did have going for her however was that she was smart, though a different sort of smart from her older sister, it appeared. They both attended the same girl’s school in Ghish, and while Cassandra excelled in politics and courtesies, Anastasia had the gift of social tact, though her greatest weakness, she was told, was that she was lazy and didn’t apply herself. Mediocrity was good enough, because when you’re a Princess of Ghant with the wealth of the Imperial family and a nation at your back, what incentive is there to overachieve? None whatsoever.

That’s why upon graduation from ladies school (or finishing school, as they called it in New Edom), Anastasia wandered off to Abaza and got a little place by the sea where she could merely enjoy her life away from court and the dysfunction of her family. It was a decision that she didn’t regret, because when it came to freedom, there was no real substitute, or so she was inclined to believe.

In time, Anastasia grew to be a shapely young woman that stood at 5’10’’, with long hair the darkest shade of brown one could have to the point of it looking black, and brown eyes to boot. Perhaps she didn’t intend it, but she drew looks from various Ghantish men of note there in the great hall, with her long shoulder-less black dress that left her smooth creamy shoulders bare and her ample bosom pushing up firmly against the front of her dress while her unblemished décolletage was exposed for all to see. She wore her hair long and loose so that it fell down behind her back in luxuriant strands.

It was a strange feeling, because Anastasia didn’t really know anyone here outside of her immediate family, and nobody really knew her either. Apparently though, many thought she was attractive and mysterious, to the point that she had a certain song stuck in her head on replay. She found the feeling to be rather thrilling.

Naturally, she gravitated towards her wallflower cousin Maraja who as usual was accompanied by her lowborn companion Aera. Anastasia knew both well, as they all resided in Abaza. As they started drinking some wine together, they got to talking, and eventually Anastasia started telling a story without really knowing how it came up, or thinking about how it go to that point.

“Some friends and I were at a house party in Abaza, on the beach last summer. There were people on the beach, there were people in the pool, there were people all over the place, that sort of thing. So, we were sitting in a circle around the coffee table in the living room, I want to say it was three in the morning or some time around then. The guy across from me is wearing a gold track suit, his hair in a dirty pony tail, and he is telling a story about some girl he banged or something, I don’t recall exactly. He was kind of a douche, but anyway…

Mid sentence he starts to throw up, like I mean just all of a sudden, just like that. He cups his hands and catches a foamy handful right there in his hands, but a considerable amount of vomit ends up all over his chest. Bug eyed, he looks around the circle, and promptly re-drinks the shit in his cupped hands. I mean, he’s drinking his own foamy vomit like it’s fucking water, like, just chugs it, right down the gullet. Then he stands up, wipes his hands on his legs and exclaims:

‘You didn't think I was ready for this? You didn't think I was prepared? I AM ALWAYS PREPARED.’

None of us can speak. I mean fuck, I was speechless. Like, what the fucking fuck did we just see? I just watched a man throw up on himself, then drink it again, and he acted like it was part of the fucking plan all along. But hey, he was prepared, and we were not. So then after that, he rips off this filthy track suit, just tears it off in one complete motion, the legs perfectly snapping apart, buttons popping like a machine gun. And what he is wearing underneath is: another gold track suit. We are dumbfounded, amazed; he just danced around like he'd scored the winning touchdown. That’s hands down one of the most fucked up, yet awesome, things I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Maraja stood there listening, and at the end her jaw was agape as though she were stunned. “That’s…fascinating, Ana. I’d tell you a story but you’d probably think it was boring.”

“Yeah probably, but that’s okay,” Anastasia said deadpan. “I wonder how long people are going to be standing around talking and shit. I’m ready for the big show.”

“Yeah me too,” her cousin Maraja said with a yawn. “You know, I was thinking, do you have your eye on anyone?”

Anastasia looked around the room, knowing what Maraja was asking. After at least a minute, she returned her gaze to Maraja and shook her head. “Eh, not yet. Why do you?”

“Well…you,” Maraja said jokingly, causing Anastasia to narrow her eyes.

“Duh. I thought you meant like, ‘is there a guy that seems interesting.” Anastasia then looked over Maraja’s shoulder and pointed discreetly at the man. “You see that northerner up there? He looks interesting…he looks like a ferret that gave up on himself six months ago,” she said with a smirk, trying not to laugh.

Maraja found this hysterical and started cracking up. “Oh my goodness that’s hilarious, Ana. Gosh you’re so funny.”

“Yes yes, Maraja, I know,” Anastasia let herself cackle a little bit. “I’m a riot…by the way don’t worry, somebody is going to come this way. We’re too pretty to pass up. Let’s just hope that whoever he is, he doesn’t look like something that crawled out of a cave…”

[Tericio]

ignore

[North Rietumimark]

Dewedish Royal Family

State of Staalmark, Allamunnic States

“Please welcome from the Kingdom of Deweden, Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Valgeror and Their Royal Highnesses Princess Alexia, Princess Aleksandra, Princess Beatrice, Prince Salomon, Prince Daniel, and Prince Vilmar of Deweden!” the herald called out as the Dewedish entered they entered the chamber, with their token security force being separated from them and escorted to their temporary quarters in the Royal Guard Barracks. There, they would go to coordinate with the protection of the Dewedish royal family with the local Royal Guard forces. The Dewedish were received by their hosts - the royal family of Staalmark - and engaged the usual script of exchanging basic pleasantries and inconsequential discussion on miscellaneous subjects. I hate all this fake shit, Salomon mumbled under his breath as he and his family were guided deeper into the massive palace. In the background, he could hear the delegation, the Edomites arrival with a booming announcement by the herald.

“The Edomites are such a bunch of weirdos. If god meant for humans to be and walk around in their birthday suits all the time why did god allow people to create such revolutionary things such as clothes?” Salomon heard Valgeror asked sarcastically upon her gaze land upon the Edomite delegation to Alexia Maria and Salomon. He immediately turned around to look for himself, recognising Ghant’s Prince Michael, Princess Jocasta and Count Thomas Lalery, but couldn’t put a name to the face to the rest of the lot. “They are almost as batshit crazy as the fucking Akai filth. There obsession..borderline fetish with traditional architecture and creepy arse masks is needing of a psychological evaluation. And don’t get me started with their rampant incest - I guess siblings are best in bed.”

Alexia gasped at her older sister’s remark and Salomon struggled to contain a laugh, disguising his laugh as a horse cough. “To be fair to the Edomites, at least it could be considered to walk around stalkers where they are from. You would not have a very long life going about your naked in Deweden. Shit, I doubt you would even survive a couple weeks before succumbing to hypothermia or frostbite.” Salomon said, pondering the idea how you would live like those Edomites in Deweden. It was in that moment he realised that he knew nothing about the New Edom beyond the basics. I must read up more about it, especially if I want to go anywhere in the navy.

“I think a lot of them must be perverts, too debase themselves like that and walk around like we humans are still bloody monkeys.” Valgeror continued to press the topic, in spite of her sister’s and cousin’s uneasiness about the possibility of being overheard. Can’t afford to humiliate the family at such a high profile wedding. “For all intents and purposes, their queen is a complete loon...utterly insane, which certainly ain’t going to help shit with ending their backwardness and barbarity in some of the cultural customs.”

“There is no much things a backward nor barbaric cultures, just different ones. It was that kind of thinking that furthers ethnoreligious hatred and violence. It was the kind of thinking which led to the Dewedish and Intaki genocides to name a handful. If people stopped being so consumed with what divides humanity and starts focusing on what we as a species have in common, the world would be a much safer place for everyone.” Alexia countered quite fervently, although Valgeror seemed not to really care. “Also you should have said apes, not monkeys…”

“I understand cute, my genius little sister, however, there are certain countries, like the Imps or Riets, who don’t deserve any of that pissy-poshy hippie bullshit. What they need is to be wiped off the face of the planet.” Valgeror said with a smile, nonchalantly looking around the palace at nothing particularly. It was at this moment the Akai delegation appeared, their arrival announced by the herald. “Look what hell has thrown up...Lazins.” Valgeror whispered to her kin, sending a glare at the Akai’s direction. Salomon turned to look for himself, curious to see who the Akai would be sending to attend the wedding. “I can’t believe these fuckers have the audacity to show their ugly faces around here.” Salmon heard his cousin growl.

“It looks like the Ditu decided to send only those with some semblances of a reputation to the wedding. Only the half-decent Lazins, if such a Lazin exists, and Prince Qiang appear to be going to be in attendance for the wedding,” he said recalling his lessons about Akai and the major figures within its court with Count Ove, a dabbling old man nearing one hundred years old who served as one of the Dewdish royal family's tutors. Brilliant and a treasure trove of knowledge about a variety of subjects, Salomon and his siblings had come to the conclusion that he was borderline insane, truly believing to have met numerous famous historic figures, such as Tiberius Gallus, in spite the plainly obvious that he wouldn’t have been born decades after Tiberius Gallus’s death. “I suspect that they sent the more ‘liked’ members of the Lazin Dynasty to avoid another major incident like at the midsummer ball in Ghant last year involving Hulang. Has anyone actually found out happened yet beyond the rumours?" Salomon wondered aloud, subtly watching the Akai delegation.

“No incident huh, I’ll happily give them an incident which would be burnt into their memory for a lifetime,” Valgeror mumbled just above a whisper through a grin, entering the Front Hall. Salomon was taken by the raw beauty of the space, untouched nor corrupted by time. He soaked in all of the aesthetics of the building, especially the pastel colours painted in floral designs along the lower sections of the wall. It was rare for him to gaze upon buildings such as Fradrykhuld Palace, a structure which wasn’t a reconstruction using old photos, but the real thing...a real palace which hadn’t been razed to the ground and rebuilt only in the past few years; which was the norm in Deweden for so many old structures like this didn’t survive Rietumish occupation. “They have no right to be here, after everything they have and haven’t done. Isn’t there a metaphor and quote warning about people who wear masks going like ‘Never trust someone who wears a mask for you never know when they have it on’ or some shit like that?”

“Since when were you the 16th century philosopher Val? What have you been hiding from us all this time...a secret professor type hidden deep inside?” Alexia Maria struggled to say over a bout of furious giggles. Salomon too found it difficult to contain his laugh as a picture popped into his mind’s eye of Valgeror wearing big, nerdy glasses, a stiff upper lip, and being one of those people who spent most of their life at university, earning a shit ton of degrees by the time they reached old age. “Do you have any plans of writing a novel exploring the complexities of human existence and all it entails to be human?”

“Of course, bitches. I can’t make y’all feel down about yourselves that I’ve been playing out for suckers all this time once I unveil my death defying genius I have enjoyed the entire time.” Valgeror remarked in a half-laugh, much to the amusement of Alexia and Salomon - whom both were unable to hold back their laughs. “But on a more serious note, can you guys believe that cousin Alexander and Lucas are both going to get married soon to Edomite brides. Those Edomites are really pushing hard for greater integration between Ghant and their own royal families. At this rate, there will be so many Gentry-Edomite marriages that there won’t be a single unwed Gentry left in Ghant. Maybe that’s their plan, to have the Edomite-Ghantish intermarry to the point that they are one of the same” Valgeror said using a lampooned conspiracy nut tone in her voice.

Before either Salomon or Alexia could continue on the joke, Salomon’s mother Aleksandra seized the attention of the Völunds. As Salomon long come to expect from his mother, a woman who loved and craved order, control, and organisation, the question she poised to the group didn’t come as that much of a shock. “Is anyone feelings peckish or hungry, because if so, please feel free to a get a bite to eat from the tables,” she said gesturing towards the tables with a seemingly endless amount of food whose dishes ranged from basic sandwiches to fruit salad. Damn, they wasted no expense on this wedding, all that food alone must have cost an arm and a leg, Salomon thought to himself as he eyed up all the food, contemplating whether he should have some or not. While he did have something on the flight to the wedding, all this food was so tempting to gorge on. In the end, Salomon’s discipline prevailed and he decided against to grabbing something to eat on a full stomach. “Furthermore, this wedding is the perfect opportunity to catch up with Lysa, her husband Prince Stephen, and their kids. Especially Alexander and his fiance Princess Ava - for whom we have yet to meet; something which would be most prudent since she will join our extended family soon. So, what do you all want to do, stay here and chill or join me in introducing ourselves to young Ava?”

“I guess I’ll come with mum, you never know...Ava could be cool to hangout with,” Beatrice said, removing her gaze from her phone for the first time since had arrived at Fradrykhuld Palace, just having finished posting the selfies she had taken of herself on the flight here in Dewedish, Ghantish, and Latin and on multiple social media platforms. “I am not feeling that hungry, thus, I like don’t seem like any reason to stand around here doing nothing. What do you think Daniel?” she asked her younger brother who shared his sister’s passion for all things makeup and fashion. “Do you want to come and see for ourselves what this Ava character is like?”

“Of course bitch. You know I got you,” said Salomon’s younger brother Daniel, moving his head left-to-right and back again in an exaggerated manner. Aleksandra winced as she heard her dear babies curse at each other in a playful manner. She looked at Daniel and gave him that disappointed motherly look that had the uncanny effect of making you feel like a piece of shit. “Yo, Vilmar, do you want in. I doubt anything remotely interesting is going to happen anytime soon and this might be a bit of fun to see Lysa again. It has been ages and ages since we last saw them.” he asked Daniel, who mumbled the words: ‘yeah sure, why not.’ Leaving Alexia, Valgeror, and Salomon next in the line to speak.

“I don’t know, I mean it could be fun but that brownie over there is calling me and I believe I can see my name on it. I’m not sure what to do, what do you think Alex and Sal?” Valgeror said turning towards them. Without saying a word, Alexia and Salomon conveyed with their eyes that, while they did enjoy spending time with their extended family, neither of them had any particular fancy playing catch up and would much rather piss about with Val. “Nah, us three - Alex, Sal and myself - are going to stay here and hang out and do teenage shit. Perhaps we might have a snack or two while you’re gone.

Aleksandra smile was betrayed by the suspicious, penetrating look in her eyes as she surveyed Valgeror’s body language - wondering what she was up to. “Well, okay then but make sure you stay safe and be careful. Salmon, can you make sure Val doesn’t get into too much trouble while I am not there to supervise.” Aleksandra said in a more playful, yet authoritative tone, making it clear that she wasn’t going to tolerate any hiccups under her watch. “Have fun while I’m out of earshot and don’t get into any trouble. I love you all.” she added, going out if her way to embrace them before walking off to find Lysa. Salomon watched them navigate their way through the crowd while Valgeror briskly found herself a piece of brownie to share with Alexia; suspecting that they might join him in watching everyone’s interactions in the hall. “Hello, Stephen, Lysa and Alexander, how have you all been. It has certainly been awhile since we last saw each other and spoke in person.” Aleksandra with a small curtsy with Beatrice, while her sons bowed slightly. Aleksandra turned to Ava and added. “Yes, you must be the lovely Princess Ava - Alexander's fiance. I am Princess Aleksandra and these are some of my children Beatrice, Daniel, and Vilmar. It is so nice to finally meet you in person.” Salomon overheard his mother saying softly.

“Damn, this brownie is the shit. The Allamunnic certainly know how to fucking bake a brownie.” Valgeror spoke out loud to her sister and cousin just barely covering her mouth with her hand. “Holy shit is that who I think it is...Prince Peter of Latium, a wonder kid in the Latin men’s ice hockey.” Salomon, who was never really that good interested with remembering the coming and goings of Cornellia’s powerful noble families for that was usually Beatrice’s specialty, took Valgeror work on it about this Peter fellow was as she indicated with her eyes where Prince Peter was standing. Peter was standing by a very pretty girl who was roughly Salomon’s and Alexia’s age and appeared to be his sister, possibly his twin by the way she seemed to be almost a female version of Peter. His gaze caught that of his cousin’s Alexia’s and noticed that she appeared to blush - but before he could connect the dots, he was distracted by Valgeror when she added. “What do you lot think about introducing ourselves, it would be nice to talk to someone who has the same passion for hockey unlike you sorry saps. Who knows, maybe I might be able to get you to a boy/girlfriend finally. And if you two say no, I am going anyway.”

“So what you are politely trying saying that we have to join you in introducing ourselves? Salomon asked Valgeror, who replied with a confident nod and a self assured smirk. “If that is the case, I guess we have to go and join you. Also, I don’t want a girlfriend, I am about to join the Dewedish Royal Navy and delicate the next few years entirely towards securing Dewedish waters from the Rietumish filth who seek to seize it for themselves.”

“Whatever,” Valgeror said with a nonchalant shrug, climbing up from her seat and stride over towards Peter, with Alexia Maria and Salomon on either side. “Hello, I’m Crown Princess Valgeror and this is my sister Alexia Maria and my cousin Salomon.” said Valgeror with a curtsy along with her sister, whilst Salomon bowed slightly. “I have been following your meteoric rise in men’s Latin ice hockey and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to meet you in person.”

[Lacus Magni]

Theodora “Dora” Ulpia

While Selene and Dora had gradually shifted the conversation to their horses, Maria and Thea seemed to drift away from them without their notice. Then all of the sudden the two Latin girls felt a bump from a group of men. It wasn’t enough to knock either off their feet, though Selene may have dropped her phone were she not gripping it so tightly. Dora turned around to face the group, feeling a hand grip the shoulder of her royal blue dress. He had blue eyes and blonde hair, a set she rarely encountered on men in Latium, and most of all very handsome.

"Oh, goodness! I am so sorry, ladies, are you okay?" the man who held her shoulder said to the pair. "Again, so sorry. That is entirely my fault. Should have been watching where we were going better." He sounded nervous, and looked important.

“It’s a good thing I wasn’t holding a drink,” Dora said, facing the group of men. “We may have ruined one of your fine suits or even a dress.”

He sounded nervous or at least embarrassed for having run into them. Selene didn’t seem to care and was visibly annoyed. “Yeah, I guess you should,” she said.

“Selene!” Dora quickly turned towards her and narrowed her eyes. Then she turned back to face him. “No, it’s alright. Really,” Dora spoke quickly with cute smile and light laugh. “I think we might have migrated into a walkway or something.”

“I...umm, Dora. I mean my name is Theodora, but my friends call me Dora. You can call me Dora if you like,” she hoped her nerves weren’t all that apparent as she tried to shift herself towards him, though she doubted she was that lucky. She brushed her straight, dark, mid-length, chestnut colored hair away from her face.

---

Constantine

At some point since their entrance to the hall, the Latin party had split up with most of the ladies, with the exception of Polyxena, huddling together and the men catching up and chatting in their own group. Just as on the flight, Constantine, Leo and Justin spoke with the young Prince Peter about other interesting occurrences from his first junior hockey season. They were joined by his twin Poly, who hung close by his side.

Peter seemed to tire of that discussion and gradually closed off from the others into his own grouping with his twin sister. Justin began to speak more freely with the young Princess apart from them. He had started to tell a story about a girl he met at a ball before, but Constantine hushed him from doing so on account of his sister’s presence.

With the twins off on their own, Justin told continued the story where he left off, though Constantine wasn’t all that interested. Justin was a good enough person, Constantine thought, but he had a tendency to be arrogant, flat out annoying and fawn over Maria though she never showed any sign of interest in him.

“Are you nervous about opening the Ludi this year?” Justin commented on the recent announcement that Constantine would be presiding over the opening of the annual Ludi Hippodromus festival. Ludi Hippodrumus was the single largest celebration in Latium, usually with over two weeks of horse and chariot races, along with other sporting and cultural events.

Constantine ran a hand through his short and freshly cut brown hair, before each hand found their way into his pants pockets. “No more than normal,” he stated, becoming a little distracted by some of the other guests. “Olympia made sure I had a larger role in Transvectio Equitum for some practice. I must have done alright with it.”

“Oh thats right, you just graduated. I entirely forgot you didn’t take a gap year. God you missed out on that,” Justin touched his forehead with two fingers while he recalled it, ending with a smile. “What did they end up commissioning you as?”

Constantine had turned his attention to elsewhere around the hall, discretely taking in some looks at the other guests. There were more people present now than when they’d arrived. He noticed the Edomites first, mostly due to Princess Jocasta and her very...welcoming appearance. She was certainly the most appealing at his first glance. Soon he noticed the rest of her entourage and disregarded the whole group, turning instead to a group of dark haired girls talking and laughing off in the distance. A girl with the shoulder-less dress stuck out the most to him.

“A major wasn’t it?” Leo eventually answered for Constantine when it was clear he wasn’t going to respond timely. But the Latin heir was drawn back in and nodded his head to agree.

“The heir outranks you then, eh?” Justin gave Leo a joking shove at the shoulder. “Not that it matters, neither of you would ever see any real combat anyway.” Justin was interrupted by the arrival of Leo’s sister, Princess Diana.

Diana snuck up behind Leo and gave him a hug without saying a word. He looked shocked and perhaps even a bit worried until he realized it was his sister. “Gray again, Leo?” Diana teased her brother. “Please do try and find some other colors to wear at some point.”

“Hello Di,” Constantine smiled.

“Diana, may I say you look beautiful today,” Justin told her with a playful smile.

“You may. And you all look quite handsome as well,” Diana smiled happily and let go of her brother. “Maybe we’ll find the lot of you some girlfriends while we’re here.”

“Alright alright,” Leo smiled at his sister’s teasing. “Maria already gave us that whole song and dance before we landed.”

“You actually received a new posting recently,” Constantine picked the conversation right back up where they left it. “A damn decent one at that in...Utica was it?”

“Utica has some of the best beaches,” Diana added said with a smile. “And it’s so close to the islands too, very, very beautiful.”

Leo only smiled, and shifted his position to turn away from the center of the hall. The last time it was brought up, Leo groaned on about how “dreadfully hot” it was in Utica, and his preference to remain in Leonopolis. Constantine recalled that Leo didn’t like to talk about his new posting much. It wasn’t difficult to figure out why, but it made feel bad for even bringing it up at all.

“But dear God, the people there...so fucking hard to understand,” Justin chimed in, waving to Maria who was walking over. “It’s like they couldn’t decide on the Imperials or Greek so they threw it into a pot and bam!”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Leo began to walk away from the group just as his sister and Princess Maria came to join.

Thea reached out for his arm, grabbing hold of him. “Leo? Off somewhere before you say hello to your favorite sister?” she said with a laugh, though he didn’t share in the laugher.

“I...uh, I’m only off to fetch a drink,” Leo lightly patted Thea’s shoulder. “Can I get you something?”

No one asked him for anything, and then he was off to find a drink. “What was that all about?” Thea asked the group, though they appeared to be splitting up some - with Justin managing to pull Maria away for a time, the two walking towards the refreshments. It left Constantine with his cousins Diana and Thea.

“I made the mistake of mentioning Utica again,” Constantine stated plainly. “I should probably go apologize.”

The two sisters told him not to apologize, and that their brother likely wasn’t upset or angry with him.

“He’s always anxious at big family gatherings. I’m sure it’s nothing but that,” Diana noted her previous observations.

“Well we’ll just let him have some space then,” Thea nodded in agreement with Diana’s suggestion. “What do you say we go mingle about? There are so many, many people here...and some very attractive women, Kostas,” Thea slid next to Constantine and teased him. “Di and I are important people you know…very useful wingmen. Well, you’re kind of important too though. Maybe you won’t need us.”

“You’re really too much,” Diana laughed at her sister.

“Did you ever think that I’d just prefer to speak with my cousins for a little?” Constantine smiled to them both. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen either of you.”

“While I agree that we are an absolute pleasure to speak with, you can do that whenever you like,” Thea took Constantine by the arm. “Come now, let’s find someone to mingle with.” Thea dragged him along, releasing his arms once they began to move their feet with Diana tagging along.

“What about them?” Diana offered pointing to a cluster of people neither Constantine nor Thea recognized.

“No, they won’t do,” Thea kept up her casual pace through the hall. “Have you had your eye one anyone in particular, Kostas?”

“I’m sorry, I think being a bridesmaid has gone to her head,” Diana commented, drawing a laugh from Constantine.

“There was this one,” Constantine began to mentioned, though it didn’t seem like Thea heard him from all the noise of those around them.

“That’s it!,” Thea said rather loudly, paying no mind to Constantine. “Diana you’re a genius. Come on I know just the person.”

Thea led Diana and Constantine a little further until they came upon a group of three women. That’s her, Constantine tried not to stare at the girl with the dark hair as they approached. He quickly adjusted his tie and looked down at his navy suit to make sure he was presentable.

“Hello hello, I’m here to interrupt and I’ve brought someone for you all to meet,” Thea hopped right into the group with a smile as if she’d always been there. Constantine was right at her side. Diana joined in near Maraja.

“Your dresses all look so lovely,” Diana added after saying hello all her own.

Thea tugged at Constantine’s arm to make sure she had his attention. “Ladies, this is my cousin Constantine, the great and talented heir of Latium. Kostas, this is my cousin Anastasia. Isn’t she lovely?” her attempt to draw Constantine's attention to Anastasia was less than subtle, though he’d hoped his focus on her wasn’t as obvious as his cousin’s speech. “And this is another cousin, Maraja and her friend...God you must think I’m horrid. I’m so sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“Aera was it?” Diana offered and Thea smiled with an approving nod.

“Yes, thank you,” Thea nodded. “I swear it was right on the tip of my tongue.”

Constantine was impressed with Anastasia’s appearance, nearly neglecting the other girls Thea had led them too. “Of course, very beauti...er lovely,” the Latin prince talked over himself initially, but smiled all the same as he was being introduced. “It's nice to finally be able to put a face to the name and a pleasure to meet you all.”

---

Polyxena

While their eldest brother, Constantine, spoke with Justin and Leo, Poly and her twin Peter gradually drifted away where they spoke amongst themselves. “Has Justin always been so horrid?” Poly laughed to Peter. “He’s much more vulgar than I remember.”

“It’s because he tries to hold his tongue around you, Maria and the others,” Peter noted as he and his sister stood by themselves. “I think he just forgot you were there with how quiet you were.”

“I wasn’t quiet,” Poly crossed her arms and stood on a slight lean. “He just likes to hear his own voice...and hear it loudly I might add.”

Peter didn’t speak for a moment and Poly caught him looking off towards a group of similarly aged people. “Don’t stare, who are you looking at?”

“A girl, I don’t know,” Peter flashed a smile at her when she glanced over at him. “She’s hot though, right? ”

“Are you asking for my approval?” Poly teased, noticing the group walking over. Peter motioned like he demanded an answer. “Which one are we talking about, the shorter blonde girl? She’s pretty.”

“They seem to be walking this way actually, don’t get all nervous now, Peter,” Poly smiled to her brother, who quickly ran a hand through his longer, dark hair before they arrived.

“There’s a boy among them too,” Peter said with a smirk in Greek. “Try not to get all nervous, sister.”

“What, I’m not going to be all nervous,” Poly rolled her eyes with a shake of her head. “I’d be more worried about myself if I were you, smartass.”

Then they arrived. “Hello, I’m Crown Princess Valgeror and this is my sister Alexia Maria and my cousin Salomon,” the Crown Princess said as she curtsied along with her sister and a bow from the cousin. “I have been following your meteoric rise in men’s Latin ice hockey and I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to meet you in person.”

Peter was instantly engaged. The ego will take over now, Poly thought, watching her brother’s grin and eyes widen. “This is my twin sister Polyxena” Peter smiled before jumping right into the hockey discussion. “Really now? That’s always a good thing to hear”

“A pleasure for the both of us,” Poly curtsied in return and smiled to all three. “That’s right, Peter was just saying how he thought you looked familiar. I guess we know why now.”

“I guess so, sister. I know Princess Valgeror does, but do either of you play at all?” Peter said to Alexia and Salomon, flashing another smile to Alexia. “I've managed to get Poly in skates a handful of times, but it won't take.”

Poly looked at her brother closed her eyes with a laugh. “It's really much more difficult that it looks. But I think I'm getting better. Or at least would if you were a better instructor.”

[Allamunnic States]

Grimmeburger & Hendrsunn (Attn Edom)

Grimmeburger smiled at Jocasta's reply. It probably has nothing to do with getting laid on a regular basis for the first time in a long, long while, he thought. Mercifully, his poker face was a good one, and he gave no indication of what he was thinking. "The pleasure is mine. And I believe, although we all likely know each others' faces, that we have never been properly introduced. So It is good to meet you all, properly," he concluded. He was pleasantly surprised by Lalery's handshake, although perhaps he should not have been. A man as urbane and well-traveled as the Edomite Minister of Finance would have to be well-versed in the greetings customs of other nations.

"It has been a good season, all around, I think. Although I think you'd agree our own footy league is perhaps not quite up to the same competitive standard as your own. Up here, we must wait until the gridiron season starts in September before we begin seeing our best athletes," he explained.

When Ellie had stepped forward and said her piece, Lalery almost instantly made what could at least be interpreted as an attempt to flirt. Although Stevan was reasonably sure the Count, who had a reputation in the Federation as something of a womanizer, had his sights set elsewhere, there was a momentary, involuntary, and, mercifully, entirely inward moment of bristling. Luckily, his facial control managed to keep his expression fixed while Hendrsunn responded.

"That's very flattering of you to say, sir. I cannot say I have any problem with dancing, although if it gets too much I can always count on boss-man over here," she said, with a grin and look at Grimmeburger, "to threaten an international incident over it, isn't that right?" The Generalissimo raised an eyebrow in response, but did not dispute her. "See? I should be alright, although I appreciate the offer," she said cheerfully to Lalery.

Grimmeburger then offered a response. "Certainly, provided I get to poach your first dance," he teased back. She shot him a glance back.

"Guess I can't argue with that, either," she said with a shrug.

---

Prince Andrik Ufdraakurr & Company (Attn Latin)

Oh, wow, Andrik thought, seeing Dora's face as she turned around. He heard the other lady snap something, and, almost on autopilot, he briefly looked to Selene. "I am terribly sorry, m'lady," he said. Looking back to Dora, he answered her. "Oh, there's no real walkways now. Have you seen this mob?" he asked her. "No, not a thing you did wrong."

The young Latin woman introduced herself, and Andrik's smile widened, while behind him his compatriots almost milled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dora," he said. She seemed a little bit , which was relieving to Andrik; he was, himself, quite sure his own nervousness was apparent. "My name is Andrik. Err, Andrik Ufdraakurr." He did not append his title, partially because he forgot until it would have been awkward to do so, and partially because he did not want to come off as a pompous git to this lovely young lady he had had the good fortune to run into. "Perhaps my carelessness was for the best," he said, "if it meant meeting you." He paused before speaking again, almost gathering his thoughts. "I don't think I've seen you around before. Is it alright if I ask where you're from, ma'am?"

Behind him, Viktur and Harald had started sidling around him, towards the side Selene was on (without really planning it).

---

Derrik Fahlstryk, and Princes Kyl & Henrik (Attn Ghant & Latin)

Three members of the groom's party, all first cousins of the groom himself, had drifted into a small clump, eying the room as a whole, looking for potential opportunities to mingle, or perhaps lay the groundwork for further exploits later in the evening. The trio were an odd collection of young men. One could, in fact, be forgiven for not thinking them related, perhaps, because in a genetic sense, they weren't.

Kyl and Henrik were both members of the House of Sproek, the children of King Rodrik's younger sisters. Kyl was the child of the elder sister, Vikturya, one of a veritable brood of children. Vikturya and her husband, Izaak Rynnur, were believers in the verse in the Bible urging one to "be fruitful and multiply," and Kyl was but one of the results of that mindset. The second of the Rynnur-Sproek branch was on the taller end of the Allamunnic average, an inch over six feet, athletic, brown-haired, blue-eyed, and square-jawed, and very handsome. He had clearly gotten the full brunt of the Sproek genetics that had been so kind to his mother, aunt, and uncles.

His first cousin Henrik, by contrast, looked entirely different. Henrik had, in fact, been adopted by Hylda and her wife Stefany, from an orphanage in Rikardsburg, an indeterminate mutt of a boy, who looked to have a mix of Han, Dengali, and Allamunnic heritage. The confluence of genetics actually had given the young man fairly handsome features, and what was, by Allamunnic standards, an exotic cast, a darker complexion, epicanthic folds, and a mess of tightly-curling dark hair. But he also very definitively did not have any family resemblance to his fictive consanguines.

The three groomsmen had been in a knot, shooting the breeze and surveying the crowd when a trio of ladies off to the side caught their eyes. The Ghantish princess Anastasia certainly was striking for more than one reason, but even the others with her were intriguing in their way. An exchange of looks was all it took to set the trio off towards them, a gray-and-tan-suited group making their way across the chamber.

Along the way, they bumped into the Grimmur sisters, who had wandered briefly into their paths. After a brief exchange of greetings and a few small jokes, Myranda and Anhyld joined the three members of the Sproek clan in their path toward Anastasia and Maraja. It was only another minute or so before they reached the group, just after a second group had beaten them there. From the looks of things, it was a group of Latins that had preempted them.

"Hello, hello, ladies and gentlemen," best man Kyl said cheerfully. "Lady Anastasia, radiant, as always," he said. Henrik and Derrik echoed the sentiment. "I'm afraid the rest of us have not yet met, though," he said, looking at the mixed Ghantish and Latin group. "Something we should absolutely fix. Hello, all. I am Kyl of the Rynnur-Sproeks. This gentleman here is Prince Henrik, of the Wyllur-Sproeks, and this other one is Derrik Fahlstryk, our cousin." Derrik and Henrik nodded greetings, while also shooting glances at Kyl, both of them irritated at his presumption to introduce them instead of allowing them to do themselves.

Before he could do the same to their female compatriots, Anhyld piped up. "We're not related to them," she said. "My name's Anhyld, and this is my big sister, Myranda," she said. Anhyld, feeling a little self-conscious and not wanting to start a last-name-based pissing match, pointedly did not say which family they belonged to. If it was important, it would come up. Myranda remained quiet, although she did give a small, but pleasant smile. "Let me just say -- Lady Anastasia, is that right? -- that your dress is magnificent. And yours too, ladies," she said, towards the others present.

---

The Izaaksunn Children (Attn Ghant)

Marie briefly considered ignoring Sturridge, but thought better of that. Instead, as she started making a plate, she glanced over at the Allamunnic soccer ace, rolled her eyes, and returned her gaze to the sandwiches. "Oh, Sturridge, I didn't see you there. With that sort of talk, you're not likely to score, although if that Cup game was any indication, you're used to that." She noticed her cousin, then. "Oh, hey Lucas. Sturridge and I are already acquainted, unfortunately," she said, giving the striker a truly impressive aside glare. "Nice to meet you, though, Olio. I hear good things about your play. Bad luck on the playoffs, but I'm sure you guys will break on through soon enough."

As the introductions went around, Ophelia nodded. "Yes, I'm real. Suffering my cousin's jokes is just one of the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," she said, with a grin. She did not get many opportunities to make Shakespeare jokes of her own, so she took the chances where she got them. Still, she looked mildly pained and looked at Grace and Aetius. "See, this is why I use my middle name at school," she said.

She glanced back at their eldest sister in time to notice that Marie was looking rather distracted. "Sis, you alright? Something the matter?" she asked, fairly quietly. Her attention snapping back to Ophelia, Marie nodded.

"Uhh, yeah, for now, at least. I think." She looked back to where her attention had been moments before. "Just thought I saw... oh, son of a bitch." Her gaze went back to her siblings. "Hold on, I'll be right back, there's just... something I need to take care of." She did not quite stomp off, but her sandals fell on the floor more heavily than they might have otherwise.

Aetius and Grace leaned forward to Ophelia, speaking quietly enough that Lucas and company could not hear what they were actually saying. "What was that about?" Aetius asked his younger sister. Ophelia scanned the crowd in the direction Marie had stomped off in. A few moments later, she spotted what had caused the Crown Princess's consternation. Her eyes widened slightly. "I think she wasn't expecting her boy-toy to show up," she muttered to her twin siblings.

Aetius and Grace's eyes both widened. Aetius started looking around in the same direction, while Grace sighed and rubbed at her eyes. "Oh Christ," the middle sister groaned. "Like this wasn't already liable to be a shit show." Ophelia nodded solemnly.

As they resumed speaking to their cousins, Ophelia took significant pains to stay away from Damien, having formed much of her opinion of the striker from her sister's stories and statements. "So, how has your visit to the States treated you so far, cuz?" she asked Lucas. Meanwhile, Aetius edged toward Sturridge, and Grace hovered indecisively.

Meanwhile, Marie was all but stomping across the room, homing towards a tall, well-built man in his mid-to-late twenties. As she reached Kevan Rudulf, a wide receiver for the Onneria Saints, and her not-quite-boyfriend, she was aghast. "What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, quietly, but with her voice strained, trying not to make a scene.

Rudulf, looking down at her with bright blue eyes and a square jaw, smiled. "Marie! Good to see you again..." he dropped his voice then, "so soon." Raising his voice again, he explained. "I got an invite, same as a lot of other AGL stars," he said. "What did you think I was in town for?"

"I don't know!" Marie said grumpily. "But you could have told me!"

"Maybe I didn't want you to know," Kevan shot back, his voice now less warm. "You don't have to know everything I do," he said.

"No, you just have to know what I do, apparently."

"Think whatever you want, dear," he replied, his voice now cheerful again. "Oh, hey, there's Andy Likely! I'll see you later, Marie," he said, extricating himself from his friend-with-benefits. Marie glared at his back as he escaped, rolled her eyes, and then wandered back toward her family, back through the thickening crowd.

---

Rosanna & Lyna (Attn Ghant)

Well, well, a Prince! Lyna thought. And he even looks rather like... She mentally shook herself. She could not get distracted while talking to such a nice man. And a prince, at that. And such an easy on the eyes one, to boot. She noticed Ro's disapproving look out of the corner of her eye, likely in response to the way Lyna was standing, utilizing a posture that showed off her generous curves. She mentally patted herself on the back for her choice of attire. The frilly green sun dress she had chosen for the arrival was a little lower cut than might have typically been considered appropriate for Allamunnae, and it showed off an ample bosom, supported by some rather impressively-strong undergarments. She had chosen it in the hopes of making the groom at least a little jealous, reminding him what he had given up, but perhaps it might be of further help.

At being asked if they were acquainted with the bride and groom, Rosanna began to explain the context of the situation to Martin. "We are, actually. Our parents head two of the great houses of Staalmark." She indicated Lyna. "Lyna is a Jormunt. The Jormunts historically were the Lords of Baaltrhulm. I am a Riktunshof. Our family were historically the Lords of Innusburg." She shrugged. "Granted, the titles still hold true, but they're largely ceremonial now."

Before she could continue, Lyna started answering the question in a more immediate sense. Rosanna inwardly cringed. She was not sure if it would be better or worse if the truth was told here. Unfortunately for her, she was not decisive enough, and did not see a suitable opening to cut her friend off before she explained the situation more fully to the Dakmaran prince.

"Well, Rosanna and I knew Prince Vitus in school -- a lot of the old families send their children to one of two preparatory academies -- so we've known him for a while. And Vitus and I were a couple for three years," she continued.

"And I guess Vitus and I are still friends," Rosanna concluded weakly, hoping her friend had not just made a fool of herself in front of a potentially mean-spirited and unforgiving foreigner.

---

The Sproeks

Finally, the last of the guests rolled through the receiving line, and the Sproeks were able to break apart. Vitus heaved a sigh of relief, shaking out his hand, which seemed to have cramped up from all the shaking that it had done over the last hour and change. He glanced over at his parents. Rodrik and Jana had managed the whole parade of guests with the stoicism born of years of practice of putting on a friendly face, even in the face of exhaustion or, in rare cases, distaste. As the doors swung shut for the last time, though, Vitus could discern some relief even in their faces.

He knew they were not quite done yet. He and Arietta would have to stay with Jana and Rodrik, while they waited for Arietta's parents to join them. Rodrik would make some remarks to the crowd once they had done so, welcoming them formally and explaining the events of the next couple of days. Vitus noted that his sisters had disappeared into the crowd, for the most part. As he scanned the mass of people, he noticed familiar faces all around. Some of them were his party, of course, or Arietta's, or childhood friends, or long-time associates, or--

He noted, with some growing dismay, that what was perhaps a logical conclusion of his... ways, over the years, had manifested in the room. He was having a hard time putting his gaze anywhere where he was not seeing, at least in his peripherals, someone he had not engaged in intimate activities with. Well, file that under "Problems I did not expect to have," he thought drily. Most of them he had expected: he and Myranda had seen each other briefly, for instance, among others.

But the presence of Lyna Jormunt was certainly a wrench. Why do I suspect she picked that dress just to mess with me? he thought, straightening his suit, and adjusting his pants slightly courtesy of a hand on his pocket. What the flying fuck is she doing here?

He also noticed that his sister Gretchen had made a beeline for the easily recognizable head of Rosanna Riktunshof. Not that it's not easy to mistake her for the rest of the family. There's only so many packs of gingers running around. As his gaze returned to straight ahead, with another glance at his parents, it began to dawn on him.

Holy shit, Ari and I are getting married. And all these people came to watch it happen.

[Ghant]

"Daddy Dearest"
Fradrykhuld Palace, Near Staalburg
State of Staalmark, Allamunnic States

Anastasia

It was during the midst of her conversation with her cousin Maraja and her faithful, though quiet servant Aera that Anastasia’s cousins Diana and Theodora came upon them, with a young man Anastasia didn’t know with them. “Hello hello, I’m here to interrupt and I’ve brought someone for you all to meet,” Thea announced to the group of them.

“Your dresses all look so lovely,” Diana added upon saying hello.

While Maraja blushed and batted at her hair while saying thank you, and Aera said thank you gracefully, Anastasia raised an eyebrow as she scanned the three of them. “You think it’s lovely do you? I’m glad someone does. My sister said it looks like something I found at a Halloween party. That coming from someone who’s idea of fashion is spending thirty thousand Ghantmarks on a gown made by a guild craftsman.”

Thea tugged at the man with her as she introduced him. “Ladies, this is my cousin Constantine, the great and talented heir of Latium. Kostas, this is my cousin Anastasia. Isn’t she lovely?”

“Thanks, Thea, now I have that Stevie Wonder song stuck in my head,” Anastasia shook her head before remembering her manners and curtseying. “A pleasure, your Highness. Great and talented, eh? You have a high score in Pac-Man or something?”

“And this is another cousin, Maraja and her friend...God you must think I’m horrid. I’m so sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“Aera was it?” Diana clarified for those present.

“Yes, Aera,” answered the blonde servant with a deep bow, after Maraja did the same.

“Yes, thank you,” Thea nodded. “I swear it was right on the tip of my tongue.”

Constantine addressed Anastasia by saying, “Of course, very beauti...er lovely,” the Latin prince seemed to talk over himself. “It's nice to finally be able to put a face to the name and a pleasure to meet you all.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Maraja offered a wide smile, though Anastasia merely sniggered, sensing the game that was being played. “Now that I think about it, Prince Kostas, you don’t look like the Pac-Man high score type. My cousin was so bold to say that you are great and talented, but what makes you so great, and where do your talents lie? Just don’t say Shakespearian literature, there’s going to be enough of that with my cousin the Emperor teasing our cousin Ophelia with Hamlet lines…”

It was at that point that three men of the groom’s party converged upon Anastasia’s group, men that Anastasia was acquainted with due to her having been in the palace for roughly a week up to that point. They were Kyl and Henrik, cousins of the groom, the former a tall, athletic type with brown hair and blue eyes, and a square jaw that he could surely use to smash pistachios, and Vitus’s best man. Henrik was adopted, hence Anastasia’s internal nickname of Mystery Meat. He had an Asiatic look about him coupled with dark skin and hair. The third of their number was Derrik Something…Anastasia could neither remember nor pronounce his last name.

"Hello, hello, ladies and gentlemen," Kyle said cheerfully. "Lady Anastasia, radiant, as always," he added. Henrik and Derrik seemed to agree.

“As always, huh?” she teased him with a wicked expression that would have put Cassandra to shame. “Clearly you’ve never seen me in the morning.” She said that in part to make sure that Constantine was aware that she had no carnal knowledge of the Allamunnic groomsmen. Since most people probably assume I’m some kind of a whore…

"I'm afraid the rest of us have not yet met, though," Kyle said, looking at the mixed Ghantish and Latin group. "Something we should absolutely fix. Hello, all. I am Kyl of the Rynnur-Sproeks. This gentleman here is Prince Henrik, of the Wyllur-Sproeks, and this other one is Derrik Fahlstryk, our cousin." Derrik and Henrik nodded greetings, while also shooting glances at Kyl, as though they were irritated.

Anastasia took the point on introductions. “This is my first-cousin once removed, Maraja, daughter of my great-uncle Louis, Grand Admiral Prince of the Ghantish Imperial Navy, and her trusty servant Aera…think of her like Hadji to Maraja’s Jonny Quest. These over here are my cousins Diana and Theodora, Arietta’s sisters, and then this great and talented individual is their cousin Constantine, or Kostas as they call him. I’m still not sure how he got that nickname but alas, such as it is, the glove seems to fit.”

“A pleasure to meet you, your Highnesses,” Maraja curtsied, joined by Aera who did not speak. “I feel most honored to be in the presence of so many handsome princes,” she said with a blush. Looks like I’m going to be in the Princess Protection Program this evening, Anastasia sighed softly.

A young woman seemed to appear beside them, and said "We're not related to them," the girl said. "My name's Anhyld, and this is my big sister, Myranda," she said. "Let me just say -- Lady Anastasia, is that right? -- that your dress is magnificent. And yours too, ladies," she said.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Anastasia answered. “I would introduce everyone, but I already did that once in the past few minutes, and I’m loathe to repeat myself without adequate hydration. Please forgive me.” She examined the two young women carefully. “So you’re not a Runner-Sproek or a Walrus-Sproek, or whatever Allamunnic House Derrik is from,” Anastasia tapped her chin as she exchanged glances with those in her company, and then her face lit up brightly. “Oh my, you’re Myranda of Skraelingia, aren’t you?”

Anastasia keeled over in laughter, slapping her knees and then holding a large pale hand to her décolletage. “Oh my, do I have a story to tell you guys. Back before my cousin Alexander got setup with Ava of New Edom, he tried his luck with Myranda here at the Midsummer Ball. No joke, she burned him worse than self-immolating Buddhist monk.” She turned to Myranda and said, “I don’t know what you said to him, but he’s had it stuck up his ass for an entire year!”

Laughing in earnest, she shook it off and continued. “Then she did the tango with my brother Bryan, and he said she was cool, so it’s all good. When Bryan says they’re cool, they’re cool. Alexander though…he wouldn’t know cool if it floated up to his precious yacht club and started singing the theme song to Spongebob…”

Alexander

The strapping tall blonde Prince Alexander of Ghant lingered around his mother Lysa Baltkalns, father Prince Stephen of Ghant, older sister Princess Alysanne and wife Ava, who deigned to make an appearance at their cousin Arietta’s wedding. Alysanne was a large woman like their mother, buxom with a large posterior and big hands to boot. Being married to a Prince of New Othman, she was discussing with her parents and brother the merits of Islam when someone came upon them.

It was none other than Princess Aleksandra of Deweden and her three children. The younger sister of the late Queen Annabelle XII, Lysa in particular was no fan. Her brother had married Annabelle and begotten the current Queen Annabelle XIII, and within the Imperial family it went without saying that the Ghantish Baltkalns were none too pleased about the match, considering Annabelle and her sisters were the spawn of Alara of Ghant and the Bastard of Rietumimark.

So it was that Alksandra introduced herself, while a look of scorn crept across Lysa’s face. “Hello, Stephen, Lysa and Alexander, how have you all been. It has certainly been awhile since we last saw each other and spoke in person.” Aleksandra said with a curtsey, joined by her daughter as her sons bowed. Aleksandra turned to Ava and added, “Yes, you must be the lovely Princess Ava - Alexander's fiancé. I am Princess Aleksandra and these are some of my children Beatrice, Daniel, and Vilmar. It is so nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Not long enough,” Lysa replied gruffly as she only half-curtsied, limited by her bulk. Lysa’s husband glared at her.

“It has been too long indeed,” Prince Stephen said gratefully. “I’m glad to see you all in such good shape. You might recall my daughter Alysanne,” he gestured towards his daughter, wearing a long dark mauve gown with her brown hair down.

Alysanne took the cue, and curtsied. “A pleasure, your Highness. Such a wonderful figure you have, and lovely children as well. Truly the envy of Deweden I must say.”

Lucas

Prince Lucas could sense his cousin Marie’s tension with Damien Sturridge. It was palpable even from a few feet away. "Oh, Sturridge, I didn't see you there. With that sort of talk, you're not likely to score, although if that Cup game was any indication, you're used to that," she said the Ghantish football scoring champion.

Ouch, damn cuz. The insult seemed to roll of Damien’s broad shoulders like cascading water. Clearly he didn’t give a fuck, since he was baiting her anyway. Marie then turned to Lucas and said "oh, hey Lucas. Sturridge and I are already acquainted, unfortunately." glaring at the striker from the side.

To the young hockey captain she said "nice to meet you, though, Olio. I hear good things about your play. Bad luck on the playoffs, but I'm sure you guys will break on through soon enough."

“…Just need some more D…fense,” Olio corrected himself, not because he was lewd but because he didn’t want to be misunderstood. “Thank you though…I hope so.”

To the hockey star’s surprise that there really was a cousin Ophelia, the real Ophelia said "yes, I'm real. Suffering my cousin's jokes is just one of the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," she said, the Shakespearian reference not lost upon Lucas. "See, this is why I use my middle name at school.”

There was a break in the conversation during which Marie wandered off, prompting Lucas to gather with his friends. “You need some ice for that burn, Damien?” he asked his friend teasingly about Marie’s comments directed at him.

Damien just laughed it off. “That wasn’t a burn. Just makes her look stupid. I’m the scoring champion, scoring is what I do. She’s just jealous that I didn’t kiss her ass and let her run the pitch, and that I went deep into the tournament. If she wasn’t the Emperor’s cousin I’d say worse than that…”

“Probably a good idea that you don’t.” Damien Sturridge was truly a force of nature, though Lucas thought that he could harness it in such a setting as this. Once Marie was gone off to deal with whatever she had going on, Ophelia returned.

"So, how has your visit to the States treated you so far, cuz?" she asked him.

“Nothing out of the ordinary…seems pretty straightforward,” Lucas responded as he scratched the back of his head. “What about Grace? You haven’t said anything. Cat got your tongue or something? Tell me what’s going on with you guys these days…you excited?”

Martin

"We are, actually,” Ros told Martin about being acquainted with the groom. “Our parents head two of the great houses of Staalmark," She indicated Lyna. "Lyna is a Jormunt. The Jormunts historically were the Lords of Baaltrhulm. I am a Riktunshof. Our family were historically the Lords of Innusburg." She shrugged casually. "Granted, the titles still hold true, but they're largely ceremonial now…"

Lyna chimed in and explained, "Well, Rosanna and I knew Prince Vitus in school…a lot of the old families send their children to one of two preparatory academies…so we've known him for a while. And Vitus and I were a couple for three years.”

Three years? I can see why…

"And I guess Vitus and I are still friends," Ros added feebly towards the end.

“Ceremonial or not, there is great pride to be felt in being a lady of ancient name,” Martin smiled, finding himself directing it at the brunette in the low-cut frilly green sundress. “Three years is a long time to be with someone. I’m sorry that it didn’t work out my lady, though rest assured, clearly you are an impressive young lady of good name, with grace and beauty that would make any eligible bachelor grateful to have you.”

The little girls on Martin’s arms were growing somewhat impatient, though with so many people around, he was loathe to set them down, so he simply adjusted them, which prompted the girls to lay their heads against his shoulders as though they were on opposite sides of a mirror. “Suffice it to say I do not know Crown Prince Vitus, nor his family especially well. I hope to change that during the duration of my stay here. It is my intention to experience much of what Staalburg has to offer.” Once again, he said that with a pearly white smile at Lyna without really thinking about it…

Arietta

Princess Arietta yawned lazily as the guests petered through the receiving line, looking like it was finally starting to taper off. It wasn’t the guests, or the looming wedding that made her worry. No, it was her mom and dad…well her step-dad really, but he was the only father she ever knew, as her real father died before she was born, and it was her step-father that held her in his arms when she came into the world.

They came eventually, at different times. Caroline Zuria came first, the curvaceous, saucy redhead in a streaming shoulderless gown of blue and white with her hair in an elaborate hair bow. She seemed moody and irritable, made worse by the eventual appearance of her estranged husband, Charles Kindaro himself.

Charles swaggered over in a very fine black tuxedo that matched his swarthy black hair and accentuated his tan skin and dark brown eyes. The way he carried himself, he clearly had been drinking, though at least he seemed in better spirits than his estranged wife, who scowled at him as he emerged to join her, his “daughter” and future son-in-law and his parents.

“How nice of you to show up,” Caroline said to him. “I guess asking you not to show up drunk was too much to ask for.”

Mr. Kindaro glared at her and snorted. “Shut the fuck up…I only had a few drinks, and I wasn’t going to miss my daughter’s wedding for anything.” Fortunately he kept his voice down, as to not cause too much of a scene.

“She’s not your daughter,” Caroline said coldly to him, causing Charles to twist as though she plunged a dagger into his chest.

“Yes she is…I was the one with you when she was born. If you didn’t want me to be her dad then you shouldn’t have gotten together with me when your first husband’s body was still warm…” Charles was playing with fire, Arietta knew.

“Go fuck yourself, you son of a bitch…” Caroline was turning red as a beet, and was clearly about to backhand the man across the face, Arietta suspected her mother’s rage was great.

Arietta for her part grabbed her mother by the arm. “Can we not, please? Not now.” Then she turned to Vitus and his parents. “I’m sure you’ve met my mother Caroline Zuria already…this is my dad Charles. Dad, these are Vitus’s parents, Rodrik and Jana.”

Like a duck on dry land, Charles waddled over to them, and clasped Rodrik on the shoulder. “Such a pleasure, your Majesty…I’m quite happy to see this union come to fruition. Arietta tells me such wonderful things about Vitus…” Then he turned his gaze towards Jana, and with wide eyes he made his way towards her. “And oh my goodness, what trick is this upon my eyes? Such a beautiful queen,” he said swaggeringly to Jana, as he took her hand gently and kissed it upon the back with tender strokes of his thumb upon the delicate skin at the base of her fingers. “Such a lovely family my dear Ari is marrying into indeed…”

Oh for fucksake dad, Arietta thought as she was turning red too. She was half-tempted to join her mother in beating his ass…

[New Edom]

Grimmeburger & Hendrsunn

"It has been a good season, all around, I think. Although I think you'd agree our own footy league is perhaps not quite up to the same competitive standard as your own. Up here, we must wait until the gridiron season starts in September before we begin seeing our best athletes," he explained.

"I need to watch more of it," said Lalery thoughtfully. "It's popular in a lot of the middle Acheronian states, but not all. It strikes me as being really strategic."

"Oh it is!" cried Jocasta. "Like infantry combat! Oh my gosh, I love going to the regimental exercises and watching the small unit tactics stuff, it's so exciting! It made me wish I'd been born of lower rank for a bit, but then...I love my life, I can hardly envy anyone. But yes, football, oh it's lovely, such a manly sport. General, we've been interested in possibly importing it to a greater extent in New Edom. We really need to explore closer trade relations, weren't you saying that, Count Lalery?"

"Yes, we were, I'm glad you reminded me," said Lalery. "The previous obstacle had been our lack of democracy, but now that's gone like the morning dew. We should talk about that tonight really, get the ball rolling. After all we cannot let the side down. The more of that, the less civil wars and craziness in the region, right?"

"That's very flattering of you to say, sir. I cannot say I have any problem with dancing, although if it gets too much I can always count on boss-man over here," she said, with a grin and look at Grimmeburger, "to threaten an international incident over it, isn't that right?" The Generalissimo raised an eyebrow in response, but did not dispute her. "See? I should be alright, although I appreciate the offer," she said cheerfully to Lalery.

Grimmeburger then offered a response. "Certainly, provided I get to poach your first dance," he teased back. She shot him a glance back.

"Guess I can't argue with that, either," she said with a shrug.

Lalery took a step back. "Wait..." he looked at both of them, then broke into a broad grin. "General, you delightfully surprise me! Well done, sir! May I say--rank aside--you are definitely tapping far above your league! I mean this is one damned fine lady!"

"Lalery!" said Jocasta, scowling. "I apologize for his vulgarity, Your Excellency, Miss Hendrsunn, he can be a vulgar man and acts like he is still at school or in a Guards' mess at times."

(Deweden and Ghant)

It was none other than Princess Aleksandra of Deweden and her three children. The younger sister of the late Queen Annabelle XII, Lysa in particular was no fan. Her brother had married Annabelle and begotten the current Queen Annabelle XIII, and within the Imperial family it went without saying that the Ghantish Baltkalns were none too pleased about the match, considering Annabelle and her sisters were the spawn of Alara of Ghant and the Bastard of Rietumimark.

So it was that Alksandra introduced herself, while a look of scorn crept across Lysa’s face. “Hello, Stephen, Lysa and Alexander, how have you all been. It has certainly been awhile since we last saw each other and spoke in person.” Aleksandra said with a curtsey, joined by her daughter as her sons bowed. Aleksandra turned to Ava and added, “Yes, you must be the lovely Princess Ava - Alexander's fiancé. I am Princess Aleksandra and these are some of my children Beatrice, Daniel, and Vilmar. It is so nice to finally meet you in person.”

“Not long enough,” Lysa replied gruffly as she only half-curtsied, limited by her bulk. Lysa’s husband glared at her.

“It has been too long indeed,” Prince Stephen said gratefully. “I’m glad to see you all in such good shape. You might recall my daughter Alysanne,” he gestured towards his daughter, wearing a long dark mauve gown with her brown hair down.

Alysanne took the cue, and curtsied. “A pleasure, your Highness. Such a wonderful figure you have, and lovely children as well. Truly the envy of Deweden I must say.”

Princess Ava had light olive skin, large dark sleepy lovely eyes, very dark brown flowing hair that was held back by a eweled set of golden pins, and a violet wrap around gown that flattered her rather voluptuous wide hipped figure. She seemed languid, a child of the tropics, and bore a rather heavy looking beaten gold bracelet around her wrist that was carved in an ancient fashion with imagery of saints. "

"My dearest Lysa," said Princess Ava softly, "I beg you to put aside your anger. We have much to do with the Kingdom of Deweden and their hopes for peace on their borders. My brother..." she crossed herself, "And my cousin Mara salute your family's courage, Madame, and I am delighted to meet you. What lovely children. I am honoured to meet all of you. So what did everyone have for breakfast? I enjoyed soft boiled eggs mashed onto flatbread with salt, pepper and olive oil, and then orange slices, it was most refreshing. But what about the rest of you? You know, starting with a good breakfast is the most important part of the day...don't I always say so my honey?" she asked Alexander with a gentle smile.

[Allamunnic States]

The Crowd Around the Terians

Once the Terians had gone through the receiving line, they found themselves in a fairly dense crowd, with people moving around them. As the arrivals wound down, they were approached by several people with somewhat different priorities. Livia, despite the skepticism of certain members of her group, had managed to garner a fair amount of attention (coming to a luncheon dressed for cocktails will have that effect) from young men (and women) in the room.

Partially due to where the Terians had settled, in terms of positioning, they found themselves in the trajectory of the younger two Sproek sisters. Kaarla and Kristina Sproek were a stark contrast to Vitus and Gretchen in their height; where the first two Sproek children favored their father and were both quite tall, Kaarla and Kristinia were of much more average height, more of a middle ground between the towering Rodrik and the diminutive Jana. The two were, apart from height, not overly similar, although there was still a certain family resemblance in the faces of the twenty- and sixteen-year-old royal sisters. However, where Kaarla was an athletic-and-shapely, green-eyed brunette whereas her younger sister was almost a carbon copy of her mother, a petite, slender blonde with blue eyes. Kaarla's gaze was almost calculating, as she gauged those around her, whereas Kristina seemed happy to be in a large group, at ease with the crowd. Although the two sisters were not looking for anyone in particular, the path they had taken led them almost straight into the Terians.

Meanwhile, they had also been approached much more deliberately by a different duo, even higher in profile. The governor of Staalmark, Walder Filius, had been deep in conversation with Prime Minister Erik Hendrsunn, and, seeing the Terians, had realized that it might be a good idea to give an official welcome to one of the Federation's trading partners. The two gentlemen were of middle age, with Hendrsunn the younger of the two, a man in his early forties, on the taller side, skinny and brown-haired, with cheek bones a person might cut themselves on. By contrast, Walder Filius, the eldest of three brothers (the middle of which was a member of the State Department), with dark brown hair cut close, over a somewhat sunken face, brown eyes neutral and calm, with a body that was naturally athletic, but showed signs of comfortable living. His husband, Anders, was elsewhere in the Front Hall with the couple's children, as was Hendrsunn's wife with his own progeny.

As a result, the Terians found themselves with four Allamunnae running into their group at more or less the same time.

The first to arrive by a narrow margin were Hendrsunn and Filius. The two approached the Doge and the Councilmembers. Extending a hand to them, Hendrsunn gave a winning smile and a greeting. "Welcome to the Federation, Your Majesty, Your Excellencies," he said. "We're honored that you were able to make your way up to the 'frozen north'," he said cheerfully. "I'm Prime Minister Erik Hendrsunn. This gentleman here is the former governor of this state, Walder Filius."

Meanwhile, the Sproek girls had approached Livia, with 'approached' taken to mean 'came very close to colliding with.' "Oh, hey, didn't see you there!" Kristina said, her voice effervescent. "Oh my God, your dress is so pretty!" she said to Livia, not mentioning the violation of Allamunnic social norms it presented (being a little bit too short to be considered properly decent). Kaarla nodded, letting her younger, bubblier sister take the social lead.

---

Grimmeburger & Hendrsunn - The Edomites

"Absolutely. We had the hiccup regarding the change in ambassadors, of course, and this election is shaping up to be abominably close," he said, irritation tinging his voice at the last, although it clearly was not aimed at anyone present, but rather the situation in general, "But improving our trade relations needs to resume with all possible haste. I believe Secretary Graagursunn could not make it to this event, but Deputy Secretary Filius should be present. The whole Filius clan seems to be here in force, so unless he's late, he should already be here..." he said.

"You might also want to try chatting up the Aronvulks and Svaartarons. Both families are in charge of rather some rather large manufacturing companies. They don't have a huge amount of pull when it comes to policy, of course, but they might still be useful contacts to have," Hendrsunn volunteered. The General nodded in agreement.

Then Lalery took a step back. "Wait..." He appeared to do a double-take before grinning. "General, you delightfully surprise me! Well done, sir! May I say--rank aside--you are definitely tapping far above your league! I mean this is one damned fine lady!"

Oh, shit, Hendrsunn thought. She was fairly sure she understood what Lalery was doing. Either Grimmeburger would have to out their relationship, or he would not have a good public reason to interfere in anyone flirting further with her. It was not, in of itself, a problem -- she was, as she had once told her lover, a grown adult and more than capable of taking care of herself. But even if Lalery was remarkably perceptive, if he had noticed their relationship, others might. They would have to be more careful.

She took it upon herself to head off a possible misstep by Stevan. So she snorted. "Oh, he wishes. I'm sure you know how our lot tend to work. No amount of power in the world is going to get me to ignore a twenty-year age gap," she lied smoothly. "He's just very intent on getting my boyfriend's hackles up, don't know why you do that to him, sir," she continued with an aside to Stevan, hoping it would not get pressed too much.

"Lalery!" said Jocasta, scowling. "I apologize for his vulgarity, Your Excellency, Miss Hendrsunn, he can be a vulgar man and acts like he is still at school or in a Guards' mess at times."

"Oh, no harm done, Your Majesty. It's a refreshing change-up from the usual small talk, actually," Grimmeburger answered cheerfully, extremely glad that Hendrsunn had taken up the cover duties. "And he's not wrong. Lady Hendrsunn is a formidable lady. The family seems to breed them," he observed. "Her grandmother is something of a hero of mine, actually," he said. "She did a lot of good for a lot of people. Including for one Staalmarker orphan." He hoped the history lesson might serve as an oblique change of topic.

---

The Sproek Cousins - Anastasia & Company

Kyl was more than a little miffed by what amounted to a dismissal by Anastasia. He had had his eye on her over the past week, and although he managed to keep his cool, he felt a fire to redouble his efforts. "Well, I'm sure you're magnificent then, too," he said, doggedly not taking the hint. Behind him, Derrik and Henrik did not quite smirk at their cousin's idiocy, but it was a near thing. Myranda briefly rolled her eyes behind Anhyld before taking a place in the circle proper.

In fact, Myranda could almost swear she heard Henrik mutter something that sounded an awful lot like "Christ", but maybe she was imagining it. Myranda also figured it would be gauche to tell Anastasia that her dress was definitely violating Allamunnic social norms (although it was getting her a lot of attention, so maybe that had been deliberate). Then Ana began talking about Alexander's pass at her at the Midsummer Ball, and she couldn't resist a laugh of her own.

"Ohhh, is that so? I'd think he'd have immediately shacked up with some floozy and forgotten about it," she remarked. "I might have to remember that. I don't remember my repertoire that night being particularly on-point, but I might have to give that material a second look," she said. "Dude made it a little too easy."

"Myra, are you saying you tormented some poor boy for nothing more than your amusement?" Anhyld looked somewhat horrified. The idea of being deliberately mean to someone was not quite alien to her, but it was an uncomfortably unfamiliar concept. She tried to be kind to everyone as a matter of course, and her sister's occasional belligerence sometimes left her aghast.

"I think you're assuming a little too much of me, Ani," Myranda replied. "He approached me first, turned out to be very much not my type, and then just would not take a hint," she said with a meaningful glance at Kyl. "Was I perhaps a little more unpleasant than was strictly necessary? Maybe. Unprovoked? Hardly."

Meanwhile, Henrik had made an attempt to sidle over towards Maraja. He was himself less outgoing than the other two cousins, and Maraja's manner had struck something of a chord with him. Provided Anastasia did not attempt to block him, he would try to be closer to her so as to make speaking to her much easier.

---

The Izaaksunns - Prince Lucas & Company

Ophelia, for her part, rather enjoyed watching her sister land some verbal blows on Sturridge. Although Marie had wandered off, she could imagine what her eldest sister's retort would have been to Sturridge. Ooh, looks like she touched his pride there. Can't be easy knowing you're favored to beat an opponent and then failing to do the deed, she thought, remembering the bitter glee of many Allamunnae when the national team played the Ghantish side to a draw during that Cornellian Cup.

Lucas, of course, managed to not say anything interesting in response to her. "What, you haven't done anything interesting in the interim between getting here and now?" She raised an eyebrow. When he then tried to talk to Grace, the youngest Izaaksunn girl interjected. "Oh, you have Grace confused with someone who talks, now," she said. Grace rolled her eyes and smiled, but did not deny the charge, as that would have required speaking.

Of course, then she did speak. "Studies, mostly." Her voice was a little lower than her other sisters, somewhat fitting given that the middle Izaaksunn girl was also a little plumper than her sisters. "I've been taking summer courses as ROU, trying to get my remaining prereqs and gen-ed requirements out of the way, so I can double down on my biology and chemistry courses," she explained. "Mercifully, the writing course I'm taking is done online, so this isn't getting in the way. I just had to power through a few assignments yesterday."

Aetius, meanwhile, was thoroughly distracted, looking around the room for, Ophelia guessed, were eligible ladies. Ohhh, brother.

---

Rosanna & Lyna - Prince Martin & Daughters

Lyna mercifully had the good sense to not mention to a recent acquaintance how she had been dumped in rather callous fashion by the groom. For that, Rosanna was thankful. This whole thing would be enough of a trial without the meltdowns and pity parties beginning early. She loved her friend, she really did, but Lyna could be draining sometimes.

But she was noticing something else. The Ghantish prince was directing a lot of attention to her friend. She had also noticed that he was, in fact, wearing a wedding ring. Oh, fuck, Lyna, don't let your need to forget turn you into a homewrecker. She would need to find an opportunity - and soon - to have a talk with her friend that she would not like one bit.

And then Martin had to go and say something about seeing what Staalburg had to offer. There were two problems, there. The first was a relatively minor thing: hearing the city's old name used blithely by foreigners in place of the name that it had carried for most of the span of the Federation was grating and irritating, even if it was a fairly forgivable sin. The second problem, however, was Rosanna being able to predict her friend's response to it before she even said it.

"Oh, well Midsummer Festivities are magnificent throughout the Bluwaalds," Rosanna began, trying to head Lyna off. Unfortunately, in doing so, she gave the girl the perfect opening.

"Maybe I could show you around to some of the good spots?" Lyna offered, the playing ever-helpful host. "After the evening feast, there's time to either wander around the palace grounds, or go into town for the festivities," she explained. "If you were thinking about the second option, having a local guide is always helpful."

Rosanna was about to open her mouth to cut Lyna off when she felt an arm around her shoulder, and she was pulled off-balance into a side-hug. "Heya, Ro! Good to see you made it in. Sorry I couldn't get to you right away..." said Gretchen Sproek. The eldest Sproek girl had donned a gray blazer to complement a green button-down shirt and khaki pants, standing in a pair of silver flats. Gretchen was substantially taller than Ro, so her head had almost bumped her friend's shoulder when she had been pulled. "I see you've settled in, though. Hello, sir. I don't believe we've met. Gretchen Sproek. May I ask your name?"

[Lacus Magni]

Dora

“I’m a Princess. Not a lady,” Selene wasn’t pleased about the entire ordeal at all. “You two have fun, I’ll go wait for Audric somewhere people don’t get run into.” There’s so many people it's hardly his fault...how could she be so upset at someone who looks like this, Dora thought as the gentleman spoke to them and apologized.

“I’m so sorry about my cousin, I swear she’s usually not so...easily upset. But oh my, I know. I mean I figured it would be a large gathering given the people involved, but wow. It is pretty packed in here,” Dora smiled to him.

Once she introduced herself, he did the same. "My name is Andrik. Err, Andrik Ufdraakurr," he said, though she sensed some more nerves in his voice. "Perhaps my carelessness was for the best. If it meant meeting you." He paused before speaking again, almost gathering his thoughts. "I don't think I've seen you around before. Is it alright if I ask where you're from, ma'am?"

“I’m actually from Latium. Adrianople to be exact, in the north right near Vannois,” Dora smiled widely as she spoke with Andrik. As the daughter of a former Latin Consul and even as a granddaughter of a Latin Princess, it was a rare relief to speak with someone who wasn’t so interest in her name or family titles. “This is actually my first time in the States. So I’d be surprised if you’ve seen me before. Are you from around these parts? You speak English much better than I, so you must be Allamunnic.”

---

Constantine

Good job hitting that one over the head, Thea, Constantine thought from his cousin’s less than subtle language directed between him and Princess Anastasia. “Thanks, Thea, now I have that Stevie Wonder song stuck in my head,” Anastasia shook her head before remembering her manners and curtseying. “A pleasure, your Highness. Great and talented, eh? You have a high score in Pac-Man or something?”

“I have no idea what that means,” Thea spoke softly to her sister of their cousin Anastasia’s reference.

Diana rolled her eyes and whispered back, “I’ll tell you later.”

But it seemed to Thea that things were going well. The girls were all smiles around Constantine, and he appeared to be in a good mood around them. “The pleasure is ours,” Maraja smiled.

“Now that I think about it, Prince Kostas, you don’t look like the Pac-Man high score type. My cousin was so bold to say that you are great and talented, but what makes you so great, and where do your talents lie? Just don’t say Shakespearian literature, there’s going to be enough of that with my cousin the Emperor teasing our cousin Ophelia with Hamlet lines…” Anastasia continued again before Constantine had a chance to reply the first time.

Anastasia’s remarks managed to garner a smile and laugh from Constantine. “Oh no I was never very good at Pac-Man, Princess. Those damned ghosts always got me early on,” Constantine looked to her with a friendly smile.

The Prince had to think quickly, considering Princess Anastasia to not be like most other nobles or royals he’d conversed with. “Ah come on, Thea. I practiced those Shakespeare lines all of last week to try and impress everyone here...and now I hear this?” he said jokingly to tease his cousin some, then turned his gaze back to Anastasia. “Well I’m just embarrassed now, I’ll have to find some other way to support Thea’s gracious boasting of me. I hope that’s alright. I can't have it said my cousin's a liar.”

Thea shook her head with a laugh. “See, he’s funny too. And quite the dancer as well.”

Before the conversation between the Ghantish women and the Latin prince could take off, a group of Allamunnic men and women joined the group. Well this won’t do, Constantine thought. The first of them to speak was a groomsman named Kyle, an Allamunnic Prince, introducing himself and the others. Henrik and Derrik, both of whom didn’t seem entirely enthused.

Anastasia quickly took the lead on introducing the whole lot of the group, even making some joke - or so he perceived - at his name. “Please just Constantine,” he said to the newly arrived Allamunnic men and women. “It’s nice to meet you.”

What then followed an awkward exchange, in Constantine’s mind, when Prince Kyle spoke to Anastasia. “As always, huh? Clearly you’ve never seen me in the morning,” Anastasia seemed to brush off the entire thing.

"Well, I'm sure you're magnificent then, too", Kyle somehow thought it wise to say, causing Constantine to try his best to stifle his laughter. He kept silent during that exchange, but quickly closed his eyes and laughed quietly. If anything I thought he’d say, ‘no but I’d like too’. The Latin Prince even looked towards Diana and Thea, catching them snigger to one another.

“Oh Jesus,” Thea said rather loudly to her sister in Greek. Diana was smiled the entire time, but tried to keep Thea from embarrassing the Allamunnic Prince. Not that he needs the help to do that.

The rest of girls then continued on as if it never happened, discussing an encounter at a previous ball where the girl named Myranda spurned some relative of hers. She even made a remark of the event that was said in such a tone to be directed at Kyle. The story seemed entertaining, but Constantine had little idea of the event past what he was being told now.

"Myra, are you saying you tormented some poor boy for nothing more than your amusement?" the other Allamunnic girl questioned.

“Oh my, that’s rather funny actually,” Thea laughed at the telling of the story. “Sometimes they deserve it. It’s not our fault when they act like fools.”

[Ghant]

"A Lively Sense of Humor"
Fradrykhuld Palace, Near Staalburg
State of Staalmark, Allamunnic States

Michael

To say Michael of Dakmoor was distracted would have been an understatement. He hadn’t fully realized the veritable minefield he had entered until he was already well enough into it. For one, his wife Jocasta was still, even after only being married for over a year, still very much surreal, as though she were plucked from his dreams and placed before him as his bride. There wasn’t a day that didn’t go by that he didn’t consider himself the luckiest man alive.

Yet, there were also certain realities that Michael had to face, his wife’s political struggles chief among them. Today however, he was faced with another problem. I am in a building chock full of women that I have carnal knowledge of. Some of those women were fine with it being in the past, but others would undoubtedly want more. Jocasta was no fool, she was more than aware of the fact that Michael played the field at one time of his life, and the ghosts of flings past had come back to haunt him as he tried to shrink within his Edomite company…

Michael didn’t get very far. Generalissimo Grimmeburger, as he was oft called among the Ghantish, came upon them with offers of handshakes. “Welcome to the Allamunnic States. I understand our hosts have already welcomed you, but I wanted to convey additional thanks for making the trek up to our cold, rainy abode here in the north,” he said with a faint smile, which Michael found surprising. I thought he was supposed to be some kind of a hardass.

Jocasta replied "it is a pleasure to see you again, Generalissimo, and you are looking so relaxed that I wonder if we could bottle your secret, for a head of state to appear so after the no doubt many cares you have...but I am glad of it. And I thank you for your greeting. You know my husband, Prince MIchael of Dakmoor of course, and my cousin, Count Lalery, our Minister of Finance and my cousin?"

The Prince of Dakmoor shook his hand eagerly, and returned the genuine expression. “Feels like home, Mr. Grimmeburger,” the prince chuckled lightly.

"Thank you for the personal touch, sir," said Lalery with a firm handshake. "Great football season so far."

To that the Generalissimo replied by saying "it has been a good season, all around, I think. Although I think you'd agree our own footy league is perhaps not quite up to the same competitive standard as your own. Up here, we must wait until the gridiron season starts in September before we begin seeing our best athletes," he explained.

I’m sure Damien Sturridge would agree with that, Michael thought of the swaggering Ghantish striker. “Well to be fair, sir, they did force the Ghantish national team to a draw. The Allamunnic team may be better than you give them credit for. That or the Ghantish team is overrated…

"I need to watch more of it," Lalery said politely. "It's popular in a lot of the middle Acheronian states, but not all. It strikes me as being really strategic."

"Oh it is!" cried Jocasta. "Like infantry combat! Oh my gosh, I love going to the regimental exercises and watching the small unit tactics stuff, it's so exciting! It made me wish I'd been born of lower rank for a bit, but then...I love my life, I can hardly envy anyone. But yes, football, oh it's lovely, such a manly sport. General, we've been interested in possibly importing it to a greater extent in New Edom. We really need to explore closer trade relations, weren't you saying that, Count Lalery?"

"Yes, we were, I'm glad you reminded me," said Lalery. "The previous obstacle had been our lack of democracy, but now that's gone like the morning dew. We should talk about that tonight really, get the ball rolling. After all we cannot let the side down. The more of that, the less civil wars and craziness in the region, right?"

…Talking about trade agreements at a wedding, Michael thought as he nodded along. I suppose one cannot let a good opportunity go to waste. Michael took the opportunity to look around the chamber, for his brother, father, sister, etc. Here and there he saw some women he had known intimately in the past, and for the sake of propriety tried not to think about them. He didn’t tell Jocasta about any of them unless she asked, and it was better that way, because she was prone to jealousy, as was he. To be fair…

A woman that Michael knew to be Ellie Hendrsunn presented herself, and said “it is good to see you all. I apologize for my sudden resignation earlier this year. There were some… unexpected developments in our family that made it impossible to focus on the roles of the Ambassador to the degree they required. I hope that you have found Ambassador Wyndur a suitable replacement,” she added.

"No, he isn't," said Lalery, prompting Michael to choke back a laugh at his friend’s rather strong sense of humor.

"Cousin Thomas!" said Jocasta.

“…What the good count means to say is that Miss Hendrsunn is simply irresistible,” Michael said with a pearly white smile.

"He's not half as pretty," said Lalery with a smile. "Some of the officers and young gentlemen at our embassy have made bets about who can dance with you the most tonight. You're going to have sore feet unless you get them to back off. Let me know and I'll frighten them away."

"Please ignore my cousin's...I'm not even sure what to call it," said Jocasta. "I hope that things have improved."

Michael looked at Ellie and said, “his lively sense of humor.”

"That's very flattering of you to say, sir,” Ellie said to the Count. “I cannot say I have any problem with dancing, although if it gets too much I can always count on boss-man over here," she said, with an interesting look towards Grimmeburger, "to threaten an international incident over it, isn't that right?"

Michael looked between the two of them. Why would the Generalissimo care about that? The Generalissimo raised an eyebrow and Ellie added "See? I should be alright, although I appreciate the offer," she said cheerfully to Lalery.

Grimmeburger came back with "certainly, provided I get to poach your first dance," he seemed to be teasing her, which provoked a response.

"Guess I can't argue with that, either," Ellie shrugged.

…Am I missing something here? No…

Lalery took a step back, and said what Michael was thinking. "Wait… he stammered, taking a step back and looking between them with a grin. “General, you delightfully surprise me! Well done, sir! May I say--rank aside--you are definitely tapping far above your league! I mean this is one damned fine lady!"

If it were socially acceptable to facepalm, Michael would have. Did he have to say it out loud in front of them? For Godsake man…

"Lalery!" said Jocasta, scowling. "I apologize for his vulgarity, Your Excellency, Miss Hendrsunn, he can be a vulgar man and acts like he is still at school or in a Guards' mess at times."

“As I’ve said, Sir and my lady,” Michael forced a generous smile. “The Count has a lively sense of humor.”

"Oh, he wishes,” Ellie seemed to brush it off. “I'm sure you know how our lot tend to work. No amount of power in the world is going to get me to ignore a twenty-year age gap."

Spoken like a true Ghantar…

Ellie added that "he's just very intent on getting my boyfriend's hackles up, don't know why you do that to him, sir."

"Oh, no harm done, Your Majesty. It's a refreshing change-up from the usual small talk, actually," Grimmeburger said cheerfully. "And he's not wrong. Lady Hendrsunn is a formidable lady. The family seems to breed them."

Like the Haribecs. None of them were present, for the great Ghantish political family seldom mingled with the highborns and kept to their own common circles. Makes them more easily underestimated…

"Her grandmother is something of a hero of mine, actually," the General said. "She did a lot of good for a lot of people. Including for one Staalmarker orphan.

“I once heard a story about the elder Hendrsunn’s historic visit to Ghish in the early 70s,” Michael explained gingerly in an effort to diffuse some of the awkward tension. “She met with Emperor Michael, after who I was named, and Prime Minister Malderi Haribec, then in office for thirty years. They were accompanied by the old King of Onneria as well, and they all buried the hatchet. It is said however that Michael’s grandsons, John and Albert, interrupted their meeting by chasing each other into the feast hall where the meeting was taking place. Apparently, John was pleasant and polite as could be, but the young Albert…was rude and indignant, even then. It’s said that there was a look in old Hendrsunn’s eye after she first met Albert, that she knew he was the rotten fruit of the Gentry tree,” he casually concluded. “Or so the story goes, anyway…”

Anastasia

“Oh no I was never very good at Pac-Man, Princess. Those damned ghosts always got me early on,” Constantine said with a smile and a friendly look to the elusive Ghantish princess.

“You know, people say that video games affect kids adversely, but I’m not convinced,” Anastasia mused. “If Pac-Man would have affected us as children, we would now run around in darkened rooms, munching pills and listening to repetitive music…oh wait…”

In regards to Shakespeare, Constantine countered “ah come on, Thea. I practiced those Shakespeare lines all of last week to try and impress everyone here...and now I hear this?” he joked to Theodora before turning back to Anastasia. “Well I’m just embarrassed now, I’ll have to find some other way to support Thea’s gracious boasting of me. I hope that’s alright. I can't have it said my cousin's a liar.”

Thea shook her head and laughed. “See, he’s funny too. And quite the dancer as well.”

“Are you trying to sell me something, Thea?” Anastasia did allow herself to laugh at the sequence of events at hand, and then she looked at all three of Diana, Theodora and Constantine in turn.

“My dear dear lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford
Is spotless reputation—that away,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
A jewel in a ten-times barr'd-up chest
Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.”

“Richard the Second, Act 1, scene 1, lines 176–181,” Maraja added with a snigger. “Well done!”

To Anastasia, the Allamunnic Prince Kyl said "well, I'm sure you're magnificent then, too," Kyl replied to Anastasia regarding her comment about being bedraggled in the morning.

Anastasia tilted her head and smiled cheekily. “Well my friend, if I’m magnificent then, I’d hate to imagine what I must be right now,” she teased him with a snigger. So hot I could melt your face right off!

In regards to Alexander’s failure at the Midsummer Ball, Myranda said, "Ohhh, is that so? I'd think he'd have immediately shacked up with some floozy and forgotten about it," she remarked. "I might have to remember that. I don't remember my repertoire that night being particularly on-point, but I might have to give that material a second look," she said. "Dude made it a little too easy."

“Well, he did get together with Ava of New Edom,” Anastasia pointed out. “But that was due to politics…it had nothing to do with Alexander’s efforts to charm and woo the girl. But she’s cool I’m told, and certainly drains some of the stuffiness out of Inperiala.” Cassandra drains the life out of it…

"Myra, are you saying you tormented some poor boy for nothing more than your amusement?" Anhyld seemed aghast, for how little she knew.

“Oh my, that’s rather funny actually,” Thea laughed at the telling of the story. “Sometimes they deserve it. It’s not our fault when they act like fools.”

Princess Anastasia tapped her chin, and told Theodora with a smile “It’s funny because Alexander invites such spurns upon himself. Had it been otherwise, then it would have just been cruel, and cruelty isn’t funny…most of the time.”

"I think you're assuming a little too much of me, Ani," Myranda replied. "He approached me first, turned out to be very much not my type, and then just would not take a hint," she said with a glance at Kyl, which prompted Anastasia to do the same. "Was I perhaps a little more unpleasant than was strictly necessary? Maybe. Unprovoked? Hardly."

Anastasia brought a hand to her décolletage. “If I know Alexander the way I think, he must have led on with his fancy titles and how it was your privilege to entertain him, and then he’d try to impress you with talk about his yacht club. I’ve seen his yacht club, and let me tell you…there’s more yachts shoved up their asses then there actually are at the docks!” she laughed.

It wasn’t lost on Anastasia, or Maraja, that Henrik got a bit closer to the latter, which prompted Maraja to look away bashfully. “Hello, your Highness,” Maraja said to him demurely. “Isn’t cousin Anastasia so delightfully entertaining? She has such a lively sense of humor! I told her she should become a comedian, but she refused, saying that once it becomes work, it isn’t amusing anymore.” Aera was next to Maraja, watching her carefully. Looks like she’s in the Princess Protection Program too…

Lucas

"What, you haven't done anything interesting in the interim between getting here and now?" Ophelia raised an eyebrow.

Olio, usually quiet around royals of a Ghantish persuasion or immediate lineage, said that “He’s just being modest. He comes to most of the Imperials’ games and goes to our parties. Lucas lives a very eventful life…he just doesn’t brag about it,” Olio explained. “You all should come out to Ghish sometime for the playoffs. There’s nothing like it…the atmosphere is surreal.”

“…Well, umm,” Lucas stammered, suddenly feeling bashful. “I met a girl that I like. She’s here, so I’m trying to play it cool, you know? I’m trying not to make it too obvious that I’m really into her, but I’m also planning on talking to her and seeing what’s up…with all that. If I’m having a good time with family, that will look cool…if that makes sense. It’s a bit distracting though…”

When Lucas tried to talk to Grace, Ophelia said "oh, you have Grace confused with someone who talks, now," she said.

Grace rolled her eyes and smiled, and then responded. "Studies, mostly," she spoke softly. "I've been taking summer courses as ROU, trying to get my remaining prereqs and gen-ed requirements out of the way, so I can double down on my biology and chemistry courses," she explained. "Mercifully, the writing course I'm taking is done online, so this isn't getting in the way. I just had to power through a few assignments yesterday."

As for Aetius, he seemed distracted. Probably looking for girls, Lucas thought, suddenly realizing that he wouldn’t have to look very far, or for very long. As Damien wandered off with a wounded sense of pride, a tall young woman who cast a great shadow made her approach. She was a tall, long legged blonde with long thick curls that fell behind her shoulders, and icy blue eyes that looked like they could fire ice sickles from their depths. Her dress was a light, crystalline blue, rather simplistic in design.

Upon closer inspection, she was exceptionally fair, with pale skin unusually marked by dark freckles and fine blonde hairs. The girl had curves where they counted, generally about the chest and posterior, though she made no effort to accentuate either. Indeed, standing at 6’2’’, at only nineteen years of age, Princess Zigora of Thule strode with lumbering steps towards her second cousin Prince Lucas, with a wide grin that didn’t show any teeth, an expression not unlike the Prime Minister of Ghant. She had a wide mouth, and in Lucas’s opinion, was generally pretty when she didn’t open her mouth too wide, lest she reveal her rows of crooked teeth.

“Coozin,” Zigora said as she gave her cousin a bear-hug. “I’ve been loogin for ye er yur immediate family. Too many strangors.” She noticed those that Lucas was with. “Who deez? Sum Gentry kin?”

“Cousins,” Lucas said as he received her. “Children of my aunt Caroline. This is Grace, Ophelia and Aetius, of Onneria here in the Allamunnic States. And this over here is…”

“Olio Belagorri, I know,” Zigora clarified. “I seem him play on TV…wur my manners?” Zigora courtside low and deep, tugging her gown with each hand as she dipped. “Forgive me, your Highnesses. I am Princess Zigora of Thule, daughter of Crown Prince Erramun of Thule and Andere Ojuta. Tis a pleasur to meet yur acquaintance.”

The Ghantish hockey star grinned and stiffened his back. “I take it you’re a fan of Thule, then?” he asked the northern princess about her hockey interests.

“Naw, Arrautsa,” she said with zeal in her northern accent. “Da Bonebreaka is frum Thule, you know. He is my favorite playor. If you dunt mind my sayun.” Indeed, Latin was a very hard language for northerners to speak, given their dialect, and even Lucas, who had known his second-cousin on and off since childhood, had to strain his ears to understand her.

Martin

"Oh, well Midsummer Festivities are magnificent throughout the Bluwaalds," Rosanna responded to Martin’s plans of seeing the locale.

"Maybe I could show you around to some of the good spots?" Lyna offered, the double meaning not lost on Martin in the slightest. "After the evening feast, there's time to either wander around the palace grounds, or go into town for the festivities," she explained. "If you were thinking about the second option, having a local guide is always helpful."

Martin offered a courteous smile as he bobbed his arms to keep them from growing too tired on account of the one year olds on each. “…I’d certainly quite enjoy going to town,” he responded, though at this point, he feared he was suffering from the boiling frog dilemma. Put the frog in hot water, and it will jump out. Put the frog in cold water and increase the temperature…and it won’t even know it’s getting cooked. “I’m sure my wife would enjoy such a tour as well, if she is up for it,” he told them politely. “She’s eager to spend time with family, so we shall see if she’s interested…”

Princess Gretchen of Staalmark was upon them then, wrapping an arm around Ro. "Heya, Ro! Good to see you made it in. Sorry I couldn't get to you right away..." Martin observed that the princess was wearing a gray blazer, green button-down shirt and khaki pants. Most unbecoming of a lady of rank, let alone a princess. Martin wasn’t one to criticize too harshly however, especially given the different cultural norms regarding gender expectations between Ghant and Allamunnika.

"I see you've settled in, though,” Gretchen added to Ro, before turning her sights upon Martin. “Hello, sir. I don't believe we've met. Gretchen Sproek. May I ask your name?"

“I believe you just did,” Martin teased lightly with a beaming smile and a chuckle. “I am Crown Prince Martin of Dakmoor, brother to the Empress. These little girls are my daughters, Isabella and Valencia. They’re a bit bashful, and tired too.” Interestingly enough, Valencia was fast asleep, though Isabella was somewhat awake, staring leery-eyed at Lyna. There was no mistaking the two of them as Martin’s children, for they had the same black hair and dark blue eyes that came to characterize their house.

[New Edom]

Hendrsunn and Grimmeburger and Michael

Lalery looked at the two and then at Jocasta and Michael. "If you say so," he said with a grin. "Nothing to be ashamed of though, sir, Miss Hendrsunn, if it is true. Make hay while the sun shines, eh?"

"I am sure that such persons of such great dignity and stature would not be engaged in some sordid affair with nasty sticky hotel sex," said Princess Jocasta primly. Lalery choked on his drink at the last words she said. While he was choking and reaching for his handkerchief, she went on: "My cousin is a brilliant Finance Minister, wise beyond his years in many respects of statecraft; we would be hard put to do without him. But he is a rough man. As a soldier yourself though, you must be used to that. While our Edomite men can be rough, they are first and foremost men, as the men of Dakmar and teh men of the Ghantish North are as well," she said, affectionately looking up at Michael. "My cousin is trying to steer us towards greater acceptance of the NCTO--what do you think of that?" she asked Grimmeburger. "Michael has been encouraging that direction too without meddling in our politics overmuch, but it is favourable among some of our best minds. And Miss Hendrsunn, you were in our country, do you think there is such fertile ground? How do you imagine we wold be received?"

Lalery finished wiping his mouth and murmured to Michael, "The woman's nearly killed me..." he took a few deep breaths and grabbed another glass of wine.

---

Princess Anastasia and Co.

Countess Lavinia Nabal and Countess Camilla Sharra had abandoned their fathers, who were lurking arond somewhere talking business and politics with some older gentlemen, and had snagged Camilla's older brother and Daniel Cleopas.

"Hello Lavinia" said Cleopas happily. "I mean 'your Excellency'"

Lavinia was annoyed immediately but smiled at him politely. "Hello Mr. Cleopas, how are you?"

"A lot better now!" he exclaimed. "I'm so glad to see you again! Do you know the Countess, Max?"

"Of course I do, hello Lavvy," said Max Sharra, kissing her cheek. "Hello Little Sister."

"Hello," Camilla said with a brave smile. Lavinia pinched her cheek gently.

"Wow, sure a lot of fancy folks here huh?" exclaimed Cleopas happily.

"You should meet some. Have either of you met Princess Anastasia Gentry?" said Lavinia hiding her wickedness behind an innocent smile.

"A princess! Gosh, no, only Princess Jocasta at the receiving line that one time!" exclaimed Celopas. "Woudl I ever like to meet her, where is she? Over there, the one with the big tits?"

"For God's sake, are you drunk already?" hissed Lavinia.

"Why's he acting like this?" asked Camilla to her brother.

"Stop fidgeting you two, it's like being around guinea hens" said Max irritably. "Let's go meet her."

Lavinia did know Anastasia but not well; she was far closer to Arietta and intended to go and stand with her soon as she saw a flutter going on, but intended to dupm pt he doleful Camilla and the feisty Max and Cleopas with her. Approaching, she smiled and said, "Hello darling Anastasia, you know Camilla right?" she raised her eyebrows. She inclined her head graciously to the Latin and Allamunnic aristocracy and royalty present. "I am Countess Lavinia Nabal; my dear friend Countess Camilla Sharrra and her brother, Major Count Maximilian Sharra, the Military Attache here, and our friend Daniel Cleopas, lead striker for the Fineberg Flockers."

Cleopas wore a formal suit and tie, a contrast of light blue blazer, crimson shirt and a darker blue tie, his dark hair slightly ruffled, his naturally olive tanned skin a bit flushed, dark eyes avidly taking in all the fancy folk around him that he rarely got to see up close in New Edom. The AS was a lot more easy going for sure. His wiry lean body looked rangy and fit in his suit. "Hello everyone," he said in a friendly manner. "So many highnesses here, who do I bow to first?"

Beside him, Max was easily as athletic, though more from tennis and polo than football. He was a consummate rider, with strong legs and shoulders, and had an air of swagger about him that was as confident as Cleopas with the addition of high birth, being the older son to a Minister of the Interior and Count, and he had striking features, lighter olive than Cleopas. He was wearing a formal miltiary dinner jacket with four miniature medals on it. He bowed to Anastasia and the others. Allamunnic persons might have known him as the New Edomite military attache at the embassy. "Excuse my friend, he's great on the pitch but I'm afraid this is his first high function, but my friend he is," said Max. "A general bow will do. And people tend to shake hands up here and indeed in Latium too, Danny."

Lavinia and Camilla were a study in contrasts--the former in red with an hourglass figure, a long nose and strong cheek bones, olive skin and her dark hair in a softly layered bob, while Camilla's honey-brown hair flowed nearly to the middle of her back in soft waves framing a delicate featured face with dark eyes large as a startled deer's, a slim athletic body flattered by a green evening gown. "I hope we aren't interrupting anything," she said a bit shyly. "God bless all here."

[The IASM]

Fradrykhuld Palace
Near Rikardsburg
State of Staalmark
Allamunnic States

LILISI

---

A sense of awkwardness which was so especially potent in inducing a sense of alienation for the old Ditu’s daughter. Her dress, her mask, even her very flesh felt out of place. She herself had familiarised herself with the guests and unsurprisingly virtually all were from relatively similar lands. All were varying degrees of Christian it seemed, mostly Bergorian and all aristocratic and royal. Yet within this, there lay a great diversity of people and families, all clannish in their disposition. She spotted the Volunds present, Dewedish royals who probably did not take well to her brothers increased stakes in their nemesis Rietumimark. She hated the fact that she couldn’t understand them - it seemed they were having quite the conversation. She recognised many of them, Alexia-Maria the feminist princess, Princess Valgeror the Starlist and a few others who she paid little attention to. She recalled Jieke’s strange admiration of the Dewedish and how utterly ruthless they were. ‘If the Ghantish were like Starl, we’d have a far more complex puzzle to solve she recalled him saying once as in 2006 in one of his rare visits to Lazinato.

There were also the Latins from House Claudius, with Prince Constantine of Youth and the rest of his family. The presence of Leo Gentry, on the other hand, was one which was rather intriguing - she felt he was a hint about the Imperial Nathanian dynasty’s personal flaws when it came to dealing with the world. It increasingly seemed as genetic as the Lazins to breed monsters once every two generations.

And finally, the only other set of guests who came close to the bizarreness of the Lazins were the Edomites. Lilisi swore every other person here was born north of the equator except them both. They were the very rare thing known which is so hard to find - an ally of Akai. Lilisi, however, had developed a growing disdain for one particular member of the party, one festering since her brother’s birthday. She carried an air of arrogance and strength so deeply alluring for some, but so toxic it was for the Ditu. Her influence on him was increasingly uncomfortable for Lilis and she felt increasingly powerless to prevent it from so far away. Perhaps it was some feverish delusion built upon the festering wound of envy which she felt untreated. Yet the scar on her brother’s arm remained.

It was, however, the sight of two distinctly non-royal individuals who Lilisi was not quite aware of who woke her from her contemplative observation. They did not look like aristocrats, nor were they foreign or businessmen from a cursory glance. There’s often a difference in mannerism which often accompanies such people. They approached the collection of Lazins and bowed their heads deeply in respect. Their hands were held out but it was the ancient Zhu-Di who responded to the offer, handing out his own frail hands in return. “Mrs Maarks and Mr Lyuun,” he introduced in Latin as he noticed Qiang’s glare coming down upon the trio. “ I must apologise for my own companies misunderstanding of your norms. Shaking hands is not a normal practice.”

“Nor is offering a handshake first to a Lazin, all those who are lesser need to receive in that sense” Qiang critiqued with a hint of disrespect in his voice. He once again took the lead as he stood over all of them, “I am Prince-Marshal Qiang, my uncle Celestial Prince Zhu-Di - former court liaison and ambassador to Ghant, Celestial Princess Lilisi - daughter of Ditu Jieke and current court liaison to Ghant, Celestial Princess Pingan, twin sister of Jieke and my elder sister. And these are my daughters, triplets Princesses Shijin, Aorta and Housheng.” The daughters bowed while Pingan and Lilisi looked on.

“We bid you welcome to the Allamunnic States, your Heavenly Highnesses,” Anessa said, erecting her back to be greeted by various masks. Lilisi observed the relatively aged Lyuun, with his formal pleasant face being one rather artfully created. “I realise it has been quite some time since any member of your dynasty has come to the Federation, so we hope this will be a pleasant visit for you all.” The Chancellor paused briefly to gather her thoughts, then added “We have heard many good things about the members of this delegation.”

“Not since uncle… Prince Hei tried to come here,” Pingan recalled in a solipsistic moment of vivid memory of the sort she usually experienced. “And well, fortunately, our plane didn’t blow up this time.”

“Yes, on that morbid note, this was proposed by myself, in order to try and demystify things, father always loved his secrecy,” Lilisi responded in Latin, which hopefully they understood. “I apologise for not being able to speak your native tongue like my brother might be able to do, but then I am not as talented as he.” She began to walk inside with the rest of her party, Qiang’s daughters began to quietly mumble to themselves as they followed at the back.

“We have quite the array of guests. Half I remember the days of their birth, even Nathan and Arietta over there. Being royal courts for sure gives you an interesting perspective of things. My personal fascination with the north came from Prince Laurence of Ghant, a mentor of mine and a friend of my fathers. He introduced me to this world and now I feel it is quite an interesting time to spectate it,” Zhu-Di began, ever knowledgeable with a nod from Lilisi. “My great niece here hopefully can handle the vacuum I have left.”

"Of course I can," Lilisi proudly declared in response, a tad bit too loudly for her preference but still it was not obnoxious in its nature. “Anyway, shall we move to somewhere less audible?” Then another question popped into her head. “Would removing our masks make you more comfortable?” she asked in her smooth and silky voice, full of luxury.

[Leasath]

The Vannoisian Royal Family
Near the Palace

"... and that we might fare well at this event, for ourselves and for Vannois... Amen."

The young woman, sitting across from the equally youthful man finishing his prayer by crossing himself and opening his previously lidded eyes, snorted slightly. The sound drew a raised brow from the solemn man, and a few of the others in the vehicle that was quickly making its way to the location of the event that the man had mentioned quirked smiles.

"Something funny, little sister?" Audric, newly minted Dauphin of Vannois, murmured his question to his younger sister; the second eldest, Catherine, and by all accounts the most beautiful of Vannoisian princesses since before the Black Princess's disgrace. "I should think that you could do with praying more often, actually; though if you cannot hold a laugh at the practice then perhaps I am incorrect."

"No.. No, I apologize." Catherine could not wipe the smile off her face, shaking her head slightly. "It's just - it's so weird, sometimes. You're the most devout person in our family. You." Spotting the eyebrow that was slowly rising once again from where it had fallen, she waved a hand. "I mean, considering our parents, you would think that we would all be of the same disposition - God belongs only in our ceremonial duties - but somehow you've clung to religion harder than any of us."

"I won't take that as an insult, sister, whatever you intended. Perhaps you would be benefited by taking another look at our father and wondering why I would want to emulate... well, anything about the man." Audric shrugged. "Perhaps, it began as a form of rebellion that had become a comfort." Looking around the car at some of the faces - his aunt looked slightly sad, his sisters the same, and his young cousin simply confused - he resisted the urge to shrug again. "Or not. The Lord works in mysterious ways. Safe to say, I am simply looking forward to this wedding for wholly selfish reasons and feel the need to give thanks for those things."

"So that's why you wanted to come!" Marie-Joseé exclaimed, the third child of the late Alexandre speaking up finally; she was the loudest of the newest Niort-Parthenay generation, that was certain, and her silence up to now was uncharacteristic of her anyway. "You just want to see Selene, I knew it!" She had a look of complete triumph on her face, immediately turning to her cellphone, likely to inform their second younger sister - too young to accompany them, little Marie-Thérèse - of the truth of their theory. As for Audric, he simply humored the girl with a grin himself.

"That's not the only reason I came, you know. I can see Selene at other times, sister... But... It certainly played a part in why we are coming, or at least why I am." In reality, it had been the duty of his aunt Aliénor, her husband, and her son Charles to accompany the Princesses on this trip; however, a convenient sickness in the Princess's husband meant that Audric could find a good reason to fit into this mission, and so he decided to attend the wedding.

"Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, we are arriving." The bodyguard situated in the passenger seat alongside the driver turned his head to inform the group of their impending arrival, dipping his head slightly as he addressed his future Emperor.

"Very well - thank you, Yves." Audric said, turning to the others with a critical eye before nodding, satisfied. They all looked quite royal, perfect representatives of the Vannoisian monarchy and the people of their young Empire. As the cars arrived at the palace, Audric was the first to exit, quickly turning to help his sisters and aunt depart the car and grasping his younger cousin's shoulder; this was Charles's first foreign visit in the name of the Emperor who was his namesake, and he was likely rather nervous. As such, Audric made sure to reinforce the fact that "we are Vannoisian, we are Niort-Parthenay, and you of all are named for the Emperor." And, despite the Crown Prince's views on that namesake, Charles the Younger was turning out into a fine lad; one Audric was hoping he could use as a friend in the future, considering his lack of blood brothers.

The group entered the main meeting place soon after, and both of the Crown Prince's sisters giggled at his obvious scanning for his girlfriend. It was the softspoken Charles who spotted the blonde Latin, pointing towards her.

"Cousin, there she is - go on, tell her we say hello and we might see her after you're done with her." The two men exchanged smiles and Audric was off towards her, leaving his family to their own devices; thankfully, each had been well trained in Vannoisian court, and were well able to circulate on their own.

"If he finishes with her, mind you." Catherine muttered good-naturedly. "I'd wager we don't see either of them for quite a while, really." This prompted further giggles and even a laugh from their aunt, who reddened slightly at the idea of her nephew and his girlfriend 'disappearing' from the room before dismissing the idea. Audric didn't play like that, thank God; that was his father... and his uncle... and perhaps one of his aunts...

Regardless, that was not Aliénor, who immediately dispersed the chuckling children and teens to go off and find someone to bother themselves, thank you very much.

[Allamunnic States]

Grimmeburger & Hendrsunn - Attn New Edom

Neither the Generalissimo, nor Hendrsunn, said anything in response to Lalery's last statement, acting naturally and generally doing a reasonably good job at covering. They managed to, barely, keep straight faces at what Princess Jocasta said immediately after.

"I am sure that such persons of such great dignity and stature would not be engaged in some sordid affair with nasty sticky hotel sex," said Princess Jocasta primly. The Count, meanwhile, had begun choking on his wine, and it was only courtesy of very good self-control that neither Stevan nor Ellie cracked up at the remark. They, of course, had somewhat different inward reactions.

Oh, come on, it's hardly 'sticky hotel sex', Stevan thought, somewhat aggrieved. More like 'active bedroom sex.' And 'steamy shower sex.' And 'hasty counter top sex... wait, she's probably trying to prod us into giving up the secret, he thought, having been a leader for perhaps a little bit too long, and now finding it hard not to ascribe ulterior motives to people.

Hendrsunn might have been closer to the truth. Although she also had to fight not to crack up, she realized that Jocasta had more than likely actually spoken her mind and feelings. Having spent at least some time in New Edom among them, she had managed to accrue at least some insight into how their upper crust tended to think, and such a strait-laced sentiment from the Heir would not be at all surprising. Of course, she might also be needling them. Jocasta was at least somewhat more clever than people tended to give her credit for.

"My cousin is a brilliant Finance Minister, wise beyond his years in many respects of statecraft; we would be hard put to do without him. But he is a rough man. As a soldier yourself though, you must be used to that. While our Edomite men can be rough, they are first and foremost men, as the men of Dakmar and the men of the Ghantish North are as well," she said, affectionately looking up at Michael. "My cousin is trying to steer us towards greater acceptance of the NCTO--what do you think of that?" she asked Grimmeburger. "Michael has been encouraging that direction too without meddling in our politics overmuch, but it is favourable among some of our best minds. And Miss Hendrsunn, you were in our country, do you think there is such fertile ground? How do you imagine we wold be received?"

I note that you did not include Allamunnic men in that list. Wonder why that is, Ellie thought, bemusedly. She was sure Stevan was sharing the thought, and then some. She was not at all wrong.

Grimmeburger was somewhat... surprised to learn that Lalery had served in the military. "Oh, I had forgotten that the good Count was a soldier, too," he said. "I'd be interested to hear about your time in combat," he said jovially to Lalery. Although I'd hazard that there are things growing from the underside of trees that would be more reliable under fire, he mentally added.

Then he answered her question. "The CTO can be a little bit tricky. As a general rule, we've typically been skeptical of unrestricted free trade, although I and those I've worked with see its benefits in addition to its risks. We'll need to look at ways to ameliorate and head off the potential harm the removal of trade barriers might cause to make sure that the benefits don't come at a cost that renders them useless," he explained. "Unfortunately, I'm coming to the end of my time as the Federation's leader. It's going to fall to the incoming administration, whoever it is," he said. "Obviously, I have my own preferences..." and here, he glanced approvingly over towards where Chancellor Maarks and Prime Minister Hendrsunn were standing. "...But I can't promise anything, since what comes next will be out of my hands."

Hendrsunn then added her piece. "From what I saw, there's ample room for closer relations between the Allied States and the Federation, when it comes to trade. The values of our peoples are not as far apart as they sometimes might appear, and since a lot of the anxiety regarding closer relations on our end tends to come from fears that we'll have to compromise on our values, I think that bodes well. As General Grimmeburger said, we'll have to see about the CTO proper, but intermediate steps in the interim to lower barriers between our nations should be efforts on a good foundation," she said.