International District [IC, TWI]

[Enchanta]

Rachel noticed a man arguing with a clerk. She walked over to him and tapped his shoulder "Sir, please calm down, there is no n need to argue. I'm Rachel Alpin, leader of Enchanta. You are?" She winced as her baby kicked her in the stomach.

[Nhoor]

Orumha Cany-Jwchmiqen, the 52 year old minister of foreign affairs of Nhoor, looked around apprehensively. "This doesn't look too intimidating", she thought as she watched her surroundings. "The building looks like it has seen better days, but some fresh paint could work miracles already - Stop it Orumha! You are here to represent your country, not as an interior designer!" She sighed, wishing that her job left her more time for her favorite hobby...

She turned to her personal secretary. "So So̦na, what is the order of business here?"
So̦na, a lanky young man with spectacles and a boyish face trying to keep up with an amount of luggage that seemed far too excessive for just two persons, struggled to retrieve his notepad from one of his pockets. "Ahem, well Ma'am, as you know, the First Minister thought it a good idea if you came here to do some diplomatic reconnaissance work, as he described it, so that Nhoor can establish new international relationships", he said, slightly out of breath. "I booked you a suite in the, er.., Larches Number One Hotels Resort."
"Alright, and what appointments will I have and with whom?"
"Er..., there are no fixed appointments as far as I can see..", So̦na agressively swiped his pad to see if he overlooked something.
"No appointments? So it really is reconnaissance work? I thought Sanhad was kidding about that.. Couldn't we have sent some clerks from the diplomatic service to do this instead of the minister of foreign affairs in bloody person?" The minister rolled her eyes.
"Er...", So̦na wasn't sure if his boss's question was a rhetorical one or not.
"Well", she sighed. "First let's check in and see if the staff here is really as incompetent as Ƨī̦mhɵnod told us."
"Ƨī̦mhɵnod, Ma'am?" So̦na asked.
"Yes, our World Assembly representative Ƨī̦mhɵnod Juvey-Ɵƨa̦nā̦qh; apparently people here had some trouble writing his name down a few months ago and in general he didn't have a pleasant time here, apart from a short meeting with a nice representative from Enchanta, but I'm told that he is a very difficult person to be around and that we shouldn't take his word for granted. I don't know; to me he is always very charming!"
So̦na looked at his boss, not sure if she was going somewhere with her line of thought.
"Anyway! Let's go to that Number One Larch thing and get a little bit of rest first and then eat something. I hope they have a sauna or a swimming pool, although we have only one week before we have to be back for the swearing in ceremony on the 30th, so we won't have much time to relax! So chop-chop, So̦na!"

[Fushiya]

Hieronymus Lovesung, the Minister of Fushingese Foreign Affairs, pulls up outside the main building in a black, freshly polished Bentley. As expected the minister is not alone, as a bodyguard immediately exits the car's front door and opens the back, where upon Lovesung himself steps out. The minister looks up at the sky, as his bodyguard just stares at him.
"Is everything alright, sir?" asks the bodyguard. The minister says nothing. After a long silence, he ceases to stare at the sky and walks toward the building. The bodyguard follows him with haste, as they walk through the front door.

[Equilar]

Véronique Côté-Martin, newly appointed as the Equilese ambassador for the International District by the newly elected Prime Minister Nadeau, arrives at the building.

"Hehe, sorry I'm late, friends, the flight from Clearwater to the City was quite longer than expected." said the ambassador. "Anywho, I'm a bit new to the building, can someone help me understand the ins-and-outs of TWI relations at the moment?"

[Ainslie]

Véronique Côté-Martin, newly appointed as the Equilese ambassador for the International District by the newly elected Prime Minister Nadeau, arrives at the building.

"Hehe, sorry I'm late, friends, the flight from Clearwater to the City was quite longer than expected." said the ambassador. "Anywho, I'm a bit new to the building, can someone help me understand the ins-and-outs of TWI relations at the moment?"

“Arae! That coat of arms your wearing, Equilise I believe? How was the flight - I hear that they’re pretty easy journeys from here, similar flight time from Arnton...”, Hamish responded, taking the diplomat aside.

[Equilar]

Véronique Côté-Martin, newly appointed as the Equilese ambassador for the International District by the newly elected Prime Minister Nadeau, arrives at the building.

"Hehe, sorry I'm late, friends, the flight from Clearwater to the City was quite longer than expected." said the ambassador. "Anywho, I'm a bit new to the building, can someone help me understand the ins-and-outs of TWI relations at the moment?"

“Arae! That coat of arms your wearing, Equilise I believe? How was the flight - I hear that they’re pretty easy journeys from here, similar flight time from Arnton...”, Hamish responded, taking the diplomat aside.

"Thank you. The flight was pretty calm. I got seated next to a crying baby though, not the most fun, but he was pretty quiet during the second half of the flight." said Véro, in a faint accent that resembles French Canadian. "500 lire for a trip, can you believe how dirt cheap that is?"
[OOC: The noun is Equilo, and the adjective is Equilese. ;-)]

[Ainslie]

“Arae! That coat of arms your wearing, Equilise I believe? How was the flight - I hear that they’re pretty easy journeys from here, similar flight time from Arnton...”, Hamish responded, taking the diplomat aside.

"Thank you. The flight was pretty calm. I got seated next to a crying baby though, not the most fun, but he was pretty quiet during the second half of the flight." said Véro, in a faint accent that resembles French Canadian. "500 lire for a trip, can you believe how dirt cheap that is?"
[OOC: The noun is Equilo, and the adjective is Equilese. ;-)]

“They don’t put you in business class? And 500 lire? I do hope you’re sending that bill to your boss... I can assure you my boss is used to the ones I give him... even pays for my coffee”, Hamish replied with an animated smile.

[Equilar]

"Thank you. The flight was pretty calm. I got seated next to a crying baby though, not the most fun, but he was pretty quiet during the second half of the flight." said Véro, in a faint accent that resembles French Canadian. "500 lire for a trip, can you believe how dirt cheap that is?"
[OOC: The noun is Equilo, and the adjective is Equilese. ;-)]

“They don’t put you in business class? And 500 lire? I do hope you’re sending that bill to your boss... I can assure you my boss is used to the ones I give him... even pays for my coffee”, Hamish replied with an animated smile.

"Hehe, I do. I try not to get spoil myself though, it can be very easy to do that when you're in a position like mine." smirked Mrs. Côté-Martin, smiling back at Hamish. "If Ainslee wants to open relations with my country, I think I could set that up. I try to keep in touch with the prime minister, and she's very keen on opening relations with countries. Heck, she's a former diplomat herself, back when we just declared independence from France. When she'd advise me, she kept repeating one phrase. 'Construisez des ponts, pas des murs.' Build bridges, not walls."

[Nhoor]

'I have been walking around this place for over a month and it's been driving me crazy! Either the restaurants are all daily pop-ups or there is something seriously wrong with my maps app!' The Nhoor representative to the League, Naty O̦cenharemedy, tried to find his potentially favorite Balnician restaurant. The second time he visited it, he could have sworn that it was on the other side of the street from where it was the first time he ate there. He noted down the street but now there seemed to be some kind of kindergarten at that spot. With the rent prices here it would be hard to stay at the same location for more than half a year but the Balnician restaurant now seemed to have moved at least twice in an equal amount of months - if it still existed! Actually he could very well understand why his maps app couldn't keep track of these changes.

Naty's hunger took the better of him and he decided to go for junk food instead. As he was sitting at the window of the establishment, scrunching away his big whatever it was (it had big chunks of onion - Naty lurved onions!), he saw the Ainsliean representative passing by with an unknown woman. 'That is one hell of a woman! Definitely someone from Northern Argus', Naty thought. Apart from some exceptions, facial distinctions were never well to guess in the Western Isles but Naty was surprisingly good at it. 'I can't imagine that the Alterans finally sent a representative to the League so she must be from Equilar - and that damned overly fashionably dressed Ainslie guy took hold of her already! In the interests of good relations between Nhoor and Ainslie, I shouldn't make a move, of course. But professionaly, the Equilo representative and I should get to know each other! Let's see how well she likes people from Nhoor!'

Naty O̦cenharemedy left the restaurant and followed Véronique and Hamish.

[Ainslie]

“They don’t put you in business class? And 500 lire? I do hope you’re sending that bill to your boss... I can assure you my boss is used to the ones I give him... even pays for my coffee”, Hamish replied with an animated smile.

"Hehe, I do. I try not to get spoil myself though, it can be very easy to do that when you're in a position like mine." smirked Mrs. Côté-Martin, smiling back at Hamish. "If Ainslee wants to open relations with my country, I think I could set that up. I try to keep in touch with the prime minister, and she's very keen on opening relations with countries. Heck, she's a former diplomat herself, back when we just declared independence from France. When she'd advise me, she kept repeating one phrase. 'Construisez des ponts, pas des murs.' Build bridges, not walls."

“Ah, yes, that’s a very important thing to keep in mind... sometimes, unfortunately though walls may be necessary to protect your people. I do hope that us Ahnslens are not alone in that opinion as it seems a bit unpopular at times to think that way, especially in a city like this, Hamish soberly said before chuckling awkwardly.

The two ambassadors continued down the footpath, past the Balniki restaurant back towards one of the locations where many of the missions to the League were located. Hamish continued...

“I am definitely interested in talking about Ahnslen-Equilo relations further. Constitutional monarchies have a lot in common with constitutional republics such as ours, so I’m sure our Prime Minister back home would be keen to build relations.

However, as it is the flavour of the month at the moment I really do need to ask a tough question of really any monarchies that the Ahnslens talk diplomacy with...

Is Equilar a party to the Pact of Kings, and if so, if you don’t mind me cutting to the chase a bit, your nation’s intentions within the organisation?”

[Equilar]

"Hehe, I do. I try not to get spoil myself though, it can be very easy to do that when you're in a position like mine." smirked Mrs. Côté-Martin, smiling back at Hamish. "If Ainslee wants to open relations with my country, I think I could set that up. I try to keep in touch with the prime minister, and she's very keen on opening relations with countries. Heck, she's a former diplomat herself, back when we just declared independence from France. When she'd advise me, she kept repeating one phrase. 'Construisez des ponts, pas des murs.' Build bridges, not walls."

“Ah, yes, that’s a very important thing to keep in mind... sometimes, unfortunately though walls may be necessary to protect your people. I do hope that us Ahnslens are not alone in that opinion as it seems a bit unpopular at times to think that way, especially in a city like this, Hamish soberly said before chuckling awkwardly.

The two ambassadors continued down the footpath, past the Balniki restaurant back towards one of the locations where many of the missions to the League were located. Hamish continued...

“I am definitely interested in talking about Ahnslen-Equilo relations further. Constitutional monarchies have a lot in common with constitutional republics such as ours, so I’m sure our Prime Minister back home would be keen to build relations.

However, as it is the flavour of the month at the moment I really do need to ask a tough question of really any monarchies that the Ahnslens talk diplomacy with...

Is Equilar a party to the Pact of Kings, and if so, if you don’t mind me cutting to the chase a bit, your nation’s intentions within the organisation?”

"We are a member of the Pact, however, as far as my coworkers have informed me, we try to stay as neutral as possible within TWI conflicts. As Equilese diplomacy is heavily steeped in pacifism, our primary intentions are to defend ourselves and enforce peaceful relations with as many nations as possible."

[New Lindale]

It was half past five o'clock when York Chow exited the grocery store, and was walking down to the train station, bags in hand. After sliding in some coins into the slot and passing through the gate, he soon saw the sign above the platform with the time at five thirty-three. He fumbled to grab his phone out of the right pocket of his jacket, and placing a call. It went straight to voicemail, so after the beep he left a message. "Hello there, I am York Chow from the Lindali Diplomatic Mission of the Western Isles, and I am hoping contact a Consul or other representative for Shanzie. I would appreciate if you could call me back at the earliest convenience, as I would like to arrange for us meet over lunch. I'll be buying. Thank you."
He hung up the phone, as the train was arriving. Upon the doors opened, York entered the car and sat down at the seat next to the door. While the door closed, he took out the sandwich from the bag in his lap, and started to nibble it as the train pulled away.

[Massie]

Some press had gathered in a conference chamber in the International Building a podium with the government seal of Massie had been erected at the centre of the room; dark-suited security men in sunglasses everywhere. Mira Fairchild looked out towards the assembled press. A diverse bunch, from across the Western Isles, but mostly Massiean. Not quite what the Prime Minister had been hoping for; she'd wanted to make more of a name for herself and Massie across the Western Isles, Massie was "back" now. But it would do. The camera's fluttered and turned to the Prime Minister as she walked to the podium, and flashed a bright smile.

"Thank you for being here," she began. "I'd have the great pleasure of introducing Massie's new ambassador to the League of the Western Isles, Max van Beuren!" There was a smattering of applause as a distinguished-looking, silver-haired man a head taller than Mire strode towards the podium. They greeted each other with a stiff, former embrace and tight smiles. "Mr. van Bueren brings a huge array of experience to his new position, having spent years as Massie's Foreign Minister. While we have had our differences and rivalries in the past-" Max's face appeared to twitch at this line- "I am confident that he still has so much to contribute not just to Massie but to the Western Isles as a whole. We couldn't have anyone better representing us here." There was another smattering of applause as Max stood up to the podium to say a few words himself.

At the back of the room, two Massian journalists, an old hand and his mentee, zoned out from the boilerplate acceptance speech of Ambassador van Beuren. "What a display," the older one said.

"What do you mean?", asked the younger one.

"Can't you see what's happening?" the older journo replied. "van Beuren's being kicked upstairs. He was supposed to lead the Reform Party, he was supposed to be Prime Minister, after all his years toiling as minister for this, that and the other it was his turn. And then Fairchild, this random outsider practically half his age comes and steals the top job out from under him. It was bloody and ruthless, but she won. And now she's getting rid of him. Sending him somewhere where he can't cause trouble. But sending him here looks like a promotion. It's brilliant."

Van Beuren finished his speech and there was another smattering of applause. The Ambassador and the Prime Minister embraced again, exchanging tight smiles and dagger filled glares. Max shared a joke and Mira laughed a bit too hard.

"Fuck the theatre," the older journalist said. "This is acting."

[Cecily Sotonnadath]

is this a fanfic

[Ainslie]

“Good to hear that you’re not footing that bill… but yeah, should definitely get your PM get in touch with our Government… I’m sure there’s plenty to collaborate on.”, Hamish replied to the Equilese diplomat.

The next morning
Hamish stood with a dead, lifeless face the next morning as he watched today’s convoy of dark bulletproof cars roll into the diplomatic buildings of the International District.

“Hmmm… Massie… haven’t talked with them before”, he thought to himself…

He wasn’t sure after all the fanfare whether it was worth it to try and simply walk up and talk to them. He decided to wait back and see if they approached anyone else first or whether this was just a PR stunt.

[Segentova]

Ever since being assigned as the Segentovan delegate to the league Hugo hadn't been sleeping well. His family was settling in well, his wife, Marjorie appreciated the new stately home that was reserved for high ranking diplomats, it was a real upgrade from their apartment on the outskirts of Nouveau Toulon. The ID was different than that city, so it seemed to Hugo, the streets were broader and the buildings sleeker, more modern than the old government buildings and brutalist office building surrounding the government district of the Champs d'Août, where he had been working for the most of his adult life. Hugo remembered strolling through the street together with his family shortly after moving in at their new quarters, Majorie had been peeking into the windows of the stores, Hugo remembered thinking to himself that she was probably thinking of the salary he would be making, thinking about something nice to buy in order to impress their friends back at the capital. And his daughter, Isabelle, who had just turned 13, he remembered seeing her happy at the breakfast table that day, for the first time in a long while, she had always had issues fitting in at school, finding friends, but she seemed to get along well with the other children here. Hugo smiled as he thought of all this, it's not like he didn't like the ID, too, there were a certain charm and elegance to this place, a stark contrast to their old lives. But as the car rolled up to the entrance something caught his mind. What had he done to ever deserve a position like this? He had been pushing pens for most of his life, it's not like he had ever done a bad job or anything, but this felt like such a step up he thought to himself. Hugo all of a sudden came to remember the man he had nominated for the position of Secretary-General, Professor Paquet, he seemed a lot more qualified, Hugo was aware of the professor's public presence, he had even read a few of his books, "Wouldn't he be much more qualified than I am?" he thought to himself, but then again, this Paquet, he was getting pretty old... Hugos train of thought got interrupted as the car stopped in front of the entrance, his aide opened the door, Hugo grabbed his briefcase and coat from the back seat and proceeded to greet his aide, he handed her the briefcase and told her to leave it in his office and that he'd pick it up later. Hugo then put on his coat and proceeded to fish a packet of cigarettes and a lighter up from its breast pocket. He carefully studied the package before opening the lid and placing one in his mouth before proceeding to light it. "Another long day", he thought to himself...

[Ainslie]

Hamish was sitting alone at a table near the building’s cafe, scrolling through his emails whilst having a coffee.

An email caught his attention, partially because that was the very point of it...

“ATTN: New Segentovan representative” read the subject line.

Hi Hamish,
We’ve received word that Segentova has sent a new ambassador to the International District. The nation is a close cultural friend of ours, as you already would know. Please be on good terms with him, a direct line between you two would pay much dividends for the bilateral relationship.

Thanks

Best,
Aaron Gerslin
Foreign Minister, Unified Electorates of Ainslie
PS: attached in a document is the phone number Callum [Parkes, the Ahnslen ambassador to the League] gave me.”

Hamish promptly clicked on the attachment, saving the details of the new ambassador before quickly committing himself to sending a text.

The text read as follows:
“Hello, Hugo.... forgive me, my superiors haven’t given me your last name

I’m not sure if you’ve been made aware of this text coming your way, but I’m Hamish Dyson... I lead the Ahnslen delegation to the International District. My understanding is that you now represent Segentova in a similar capacity?

Anyway, if you’re in the area and want to taste the best coffee the international bureaucracy can whip up, I’m at Cafe 4 on the fourth floor of the international building at the moment. Otherwise, I can drop by wherever your mission is set up or perhaps at the League Building? Let me know.

~ AaG”

[Trigel]

Hi everybody, for my character of roleplay, his name Is Filiberto Patano

[Frajland]

An aged balding man walks into the office with a very thin mouth. He appears annoyed.
“Four months of paperwork. Four damn months” he mumbles. He walks to the desk of the building and asks the clerk; “Where could I find the office for the Dominion of Frajland?” The clerk indicates to a space on a map of the building. The man begins walking briskly to an elevator but is stopped by a security guard. “Halt! Who are you? Hand me your pass!” The guard indicates by hand to hand him the pass he carries. The man says, clearly, “I am Helmut Kohl, chancellor of Frajland. Let me the hell through.” The guard, cowed, allows him through to the elevators. He steps into the elevator and the doors slide closed. He presses the button labeled 4, and the elevator ascends. The cables snap to a stop at floor 4, and the doors clunk open. Kohl stops by the cafe to purchase a coffee. The cashier, unfamiliar with Frajlandic Marks, consults a chart. After receiving his coffee, Kohl begins at a brisk pace towards his office. He arrives at the room, already set with desk, chair and computer, and sits in the chair. “Finally. I’ve waited a long time for this.” He promptly falls asleep at the desk, without even closing the door.

[Corsitilia]

A man walks inside a government building. "Hey stop! Who are you?", A Security Guard shouted. "Here is my ID, Sergei. Just calm down." The guard opened his eyes wide open once he read the ID, bit his lip, and quickly gave back the ID. He heads inside an empty elevator and looks at the buttons closely. "Where is it... aah there it is", he mumbled. The elevator halts at the 8th floor and the doors open up wide. The man walks inside a conference room. "G day.", He said. "Name's Miguel E. Jorge, chancellor of Corsitilia. How do you do."

[Aromea]

[deleted]

[Hospitaller West Indies]

Once a proud bucca- I mean admiral aboard the...uh....”navy” of the Hospitaller West Indies (or the HWI for short), now elected head of the diplomacy department, Maximilien Every awaits a meeting while reading the latest newspaper. The front page story is just more news on the political crisis going on in the HWI, with the two main political factions growing exponentially more radical. The authoritarian, heavily religious party of the Order was recently accused of voter fraud, and that the very libertarian, and (possibly) piratical, Swashbucklers party should have won. The paper shows a picture of the leader of the Order and new Governor of the HWI, Thomas de Bonpar, giving a victory speech. Every puts down the newspaper and sighs, as he himself, while he displays himself as neutral and unbiased, is a secret fierce supporter of the Swashbucklers.

[Roendavar]

-==-=-==-
THE WESTERN ISLES GALA - OPENING POST
-==-=-==-

~

The once formal tone and theme of the International District has turned into one of extravagance. The Hall of International Peace, with its high vaulted ceilings cut by wide windows of glass, let in the silver streaks of serene moonlight from the night sky. Its wooden floor, polished and glistening, and its pillars decorated with colorful flora that snaked across the chamber in color. Tables and lofty curtains were colored in a tinted purple and gold trimmings that complimented the golden utensils and glasses. Soft music reverberated through the halls as a small orchestra on one one corner of the vast hall played a variety of tunes that evoked a feeling of luxury. A massive chandelier has been hung on the center casting a gentle orange glow.

A myriad of hors d'oeuvres were spread across a small table at the center of the room. Servers and attendants buzzed their way across the hall holding expensive wine bottles and polishing much of the diningware with small white cloths. On each table, an emerald colored menu with gold lettering displayed costly gourmet food that attendees could choose, from crisp vegetables to succulent meats, from tarts to glistening fruit cakes, and fresh seafood to caviar. There was no shortage to the amount of expense at the event's sustenance, their ingredients imported from all around the Western Isles and their quality ensured safe and top-of-the-line.

Outside, gardens surround the irregular Hall of International Peace that stood as a testament to the peace achieved by the nations of the Western Isles, its sharp and silver exterior lit with thousands of small lights that shone like fireflies. It smelled of trimmed grass and flowers, the latter imported from the country which has sponsored the event. Far beyond, the International District, with its glass buildings and urban domain, surrounded the hall on all sides. A single road, lined with limousines filled with important delegates as they made their way to the building, connected the Hall to the outside world.

Representatives from all four corners of the Western Isles have arrived in the center of the region. With them, they carry their nation's identities, the very soul of what they represent step forth into the hallowed land of the International District. The Gala has begun.

~

[Roendavar]

"Everything seems to be in order. The servers are ready. The decorations are in check. The orchestra seems fine. Heard there was an issue with the sprinklers outside and told them to shut them all off before one of the foreign delegates get wet."
"Hm..."
"Are you quite done with your breathing exercises? I can see them arriving."

Faunus exhaled as he opened his eyes, the glow and light of the room unfolding once more to him. The same hall, the same tables, the same glasses. The same purple, emerald, and gold. The same creeping anxiety of having to deal with such an important event. The same Western Isles Gala that he has been supervising for days since he has arrived in the International District.

The ruling monarch of the Utopian Kingdom of the Union of Roendavarian States sat at a long banquet table at the front of the hall, a place for the primary sponsor of the Gala and a position with the best view. His immaculate white suit, gloves, leather boots, and pants contrasted the golden jewelry that adorned his entire body. A headpiece fashioned like deer horns, a necklace, two matching bracelets, and a gilded ring adorned with deep green emeralds and purple diamonds, and a neck band that bore a golden rose. A flowing white fur coat was draped across his back, chained together by more gold. He was tall, fair-skinned, dark brown wavy hair uncombed, and the look of one whose youth still remained.

"Yes, Sylvanus. Thank you for alerting me. It would be a great shame if they all saw me with such bother and contempt on my face." Faunus flatly said, raising his gloved hand to dismiss his companion.
"We paid a lot for this you know. Half on the Royal Tour of yours and a quarter for this Gala. You may have to live off bread the rest of the year." Sylvanus joked. "You might as well enjoy it. Besides, aren't gatherings what you are most excited about?"
"If only it wasn't attended by people whose concept of "enjoy" are talks about politics and economics. I may sound hypocritical by saying this but I abhor fake diplomacy. Well, at least I have you to liven that up." Faunus turned to his companion. He wore the same clothes with less jewelry and less pomposity. In contrast to him, he was wearing pure black. Sylvanus was the same height as him, pale and sharp, with long black hair flowing down his shoulders, some held back by two crossed wooden sticks with beads.
"By the purposes of this gala, I am but your mere bodyguard. We have enough scandal already between the both of us. Some of them will recognize me though. Doesn't take much to recognize the snake of Roendavar." Sylvanus kept his eyes foward, watching as cars pulled up in front of the building.
"No doubt. I have already gotten the ire of Dociara for insisting that you come with me. They ask, of all the Roendavari you can bring along with you, why him? and I turn them away, as always." Faunus slowly stood up to prepare greeting the delegates. He smoothed his clothes as he gauged how far the delegates are from entering the Hall.
"Then must I thank you for that then? That you have pulled me from my job to play consort tonight?" Sylvanus teased. "Well, it shall be easy for me for I have no need to act, do I?"
"Sylvanus!" The monarch exclaimed, thinking of another topic to change the subject. "This is a very professional meeting. We are here to improve Roendavar's standing with the world and help bridge new ties and allies considering the political situation we have!" He quickly recited as he echoed the letter sent to him by the Thronai of Andavar.
"Stop it. You sound like that old man. Yeah, yeah. Faronna, League, and whatnots."
"I am here as a representative of the Roendavari and the Roendavarieil government as they have so much insisted."
"You may say that but we both know the second one is not true." Sylvanus turned to the King, his face carved with a calculating grin.

Faunus ignored Sylvanus' comment, yet such words he cannot refute. Figures slowly made their way to the entrance of the hall, their features slowly being revealed as they come closer to the glass doors of the Hall of International Peace. i Florin Celion Faunus Eleos Caenalren Iralethias, the young King of Roendavar stood at the far center of the hall. Beside him, stood the Snake of Roendavar, Sylanus Valtheril Iaveniraeth, leader of the HEI. Two people at the center of Roendavarian politics and society. As the first of the guests walked in, a gentle and diplomatic smile quickly appeared on the King's face.

[Dormill and Stiura]

Griffon One buzzed through the cold winter air as it made for the International District, being slightly shaken around by the winter winds snapping against the air-frame of the heavily modified 4-11 500 as it flew. Within is a unique assortment of Dormill-Stiuraians for a rather unique event, President Dyson and his new girlfriend Sylvia Vilar alongside her sister Claudia, paired with Diplomatic Director for the northern Mesder Sea and Raedlon, Merritt Simonis and his wife Kaye. Though it would have otherwise been seen as too low-brow of an event for the Doraltic President to show up to, given the RSVPs, Dyson had insisted on going regardless as an escape from the hectic election season he just faced, the weight of the entire nation still rested heavily on him with telltale signs of greying hair starting to build up on his head.

In the back of his mind, however, he still had a fear of the goings-on. The attacks in Roendavar have only ramped up in frequency and intensity, and the International Court of Justice was set to render its verdict on the Faronna Islands Dispute soon. He knew, as his advisors told him, that these were telltale signs of building tensions in western Gael, and a rise in Balniki threat was soon to follow. For now, he sat in the cabin, resting alongside his heart's greatest content, fighting with what might he can spare to be happy, be professional, and be ready.

The flight from Cour Rouge to the International District was relatively short, a benefit that geography had granted Gael from ancient times, though it did have the downside of leaving little room for rest.

"Mister President." the nearby Presidential Guard spoke, "We're landing in a few moments if you're ready."

"Yes of course," he responded, sitting upright in his chair and adjusting his suit.

As Griffon One came to rest on the tarmac some moments later, awaiting her cargo to offload, a new press crew formed around the plane's terminal. The Isles were eager to hear from the mouth of the Dyson Government regarding recent events, always eager for that next big story. Ahead of him, the motorcade provided by the League in connection to the Gala waited, the flag of the United Republics prominent on the window as he waved at the crowd. As was customary, President Dyson was first to properly disembark, with Sylvia not far behind, followed a moment later by Director Simonis and his wife. Ambassador Van Adrichem, who had been promoting Doraltic and international interests at the League proper, would meet the Presidential entourage at the Hall of World Peace, since he had planned to stay in the city once the invite reached him.