Lupercal [MT, IC, Closed, ATTN: Chrinthanium]

[Chrinthanium]

Nathaniel squirmed slightly after fixing himself. The erstwhile well-dressed emperor was now disheveled to the point of looking more like a college student who simply rolled out of bed and tossed on a suit to interview at a fast food place. Regardless of Ilia's comforting words, Nathaniel found himself in the position of some discomfort once buttoning the top button of the dress shirt. He sighed heavily, unbuttoned it and rolled his tie into a slightly neat ball and put it into one of the pockets. If ever he felt the need to Tweet about first world problems, now was the time.

"That's better," Nathaniel asked feeling slightly relieved.

Giosua called back and asked, “Is the crisis averted?”

"All is right," Wentworth said. "Some emperor's consider natural disasters as a major crisis. This one never flinches and organizes a few governmental departments like its no sweat. He gets an ink stain, now we're in crisis mode."

"My Lord Chancellor does all my worrying for me. He's handy like that," Nathaniel said squirming in the tight shirt which felt tighter to him by the minute. "I hope Reynolds gets here soon. By the way, did you get skinnier, Matthew? This shirt is really tight."

"No, Nate. The last time you wore one of my shirt was in college. You complained about the tightness then. Just don't breathe in too hard. I'd hate for it to pop a button."

Nathaniel started laughing as he realized how ridiculous the conversation must seem to Ilia, "I apologize, Ilia. Must seem like I'm hung up on clothes. Though, once we get outside, I think I might be able to come up with a solution in the meantime before Reynolds gets here."

[Astrolinium]

The King raised his eyebrows at Nathaniel’s mention of an alternative solution. “If you need, there’s a small, er, I suppose you might call it a ‘green room’ of sorts behind the stage that you would be welcome to use.”

He thought for a moment, and then his face lit up with a little smile and a soft chuckling. He added, “I’m not sure what your solution is, but I’d note that, while the runners will be nude, it might seem a bit odd for you to be.” He winked. “We wouldn’t want you to get the reputation of being a Marc Antony.”

Up front, Giosua said, “Your Majesty, Your Imperial Majesty, if you don’t mind…”

Ilia interrupted the bodyguard and said, “Ah, yes, time to get out of the van, I think. Shall we?”

---

Upon exiting the royal van, the group would find themselves standing in a gravel parking lot behind the band shell. It looked as though Dr. Romero and Emilia Caralico had beat the royal contingent by a few minutes – Dr. Romero’s Porsche was parked across from the van, and Giovanni and Emilia were chatting amicably as they leaned against the side of it. As Ilia stepped down from the van, an identical vehicle pulled into the lot as well, this one containing the soldiers who had welcomed Nathaniel at the airport. A few other cars which had not been at the airport were in the lot as well, presumably belonging to the performers who would also be using the stage.

The back of the band shell was far uglier than the front – a squat, blocky structure made of the same concrete seemed to serve as the green room the King had mentioned. While the inside was presumably more aesthetically pleasing, the outside was featureless and gray, with only a few simple windows and a rather utilitarian door serving to break up the monotony of it. This stood in stark contrast to the opposite side of the parking lot. While the gravel was bordered by a line of tall cypresses, beyond it the grass sloped downward and thinned out until it turned quickly into a beach of white sand, beyond it the calm waters of the Bay. A pleasant breeze, sharp with the scent of salt, seemed to be blowing off the waters, and overhead, the blue sky was dotted by fluffy, white clouds.

[Chrinthanium]

"Nudity will not be a concern," Nathaniel stated with a wry smile. He stepped out of the van and took a few glances around. He unbuttoned his suit coat, then unbuttoned the shirt by a few buttons from the bottom careful not to unbutton past where the suit exposed the shirt. He then tucked the partially-buttoned shirt into his suit pants, leaned into one of the windows of the van to use as a mirror, and adjusted himself until he looked respectable. He looked at Wentworth who was experiencing the opposite problem.

"Looks fine, Nate. Stop worrying. Go with that look more often, too."

Nathaniel finished preening and smiled at Ilia. "Well, when you're a kid, you're taught all about the alleged high life that royalty live. Fancy balls, officiating ceremonies, so forth and so on. They never tell you about wardrobe malfunctions and how to fix them."

He then took a deep breath of the salted air. He exhaled slowly. He closed his eyes and just stood there for a moment absorbing everything around. "My god this air is so fresh and clean. It's invigorating." He seems transfixed in his thoughts. He was reminded of times when he was a kid and the family would go to Grantham Beach. It has a similar air. He remembered running around the beach playing volleyball with his brother while his mother and father simply decompressed from their lives for a few hours.

"I'm convinced you live in paradise," Nathaniel stated snapping back into reality. "I simply must come back on a vacation, if you'll allow me."

"I suppose His Majesty needs to prepare for the upcoming spectacle," Wentworth said returning to formal titles. "Your Imperial Majesty, perhaps we best find a place out of his way."

[Astrolinium]

The King watched with interest as Nate fixed himself. An ingenious idea – he himself was famous for meeting wardrobe challenges with equanimity, but he would have to remember that little trick. Then his face cracked into a grin as his guest took in the air, carrying the salt in along the breeze. Of all his duties as King, Ilia thought that this was the one that delighted him the most – seeing his more urban visitors really get a taste of the air off the Bay for the first time. As long as the island served to charm its guests, he felt that he never needed to worry about the threat large nations might pose.

In response to Nate’s statement on paradise, he said, “We can discuss future vacations further after your first visit is done with, though if this first twenty minutes have been any indication, Your Imperial Majesty, then I should consider it a delight to have you on my shores. If you should like, the shore is just beyond those trees over there, and Your Imperial Majesty would be more than welcome to enjoy a quick stroll along it while I finish preparing.”

As he spoke, Giosua joined the group, having locked up the van. The King glanced at him and then added, “Giosua will be more than happy to retrieve Your Imperial Majesty, I am certain, when the time comes for you to be introduced to my people and watch the festivities from a place of honor alongside me. Isn’t that right?”

Giosua nodded respectfully towards the King, responding, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

[Chrinthanium]

Nathaniel paused for a moment. Twenty minutes of nothing to do. This could be something he could get used to. The idea he could just relax and do nothing was more appealing to him that the sweet, honeyed words of a suitor. He smiled broadly in Ilia's direction.

"I think I might pop down to the beach for a few moments. As long as Wentworth understands to give me a few moments to take it all in," Nathaniel said.

"Your Majesty," Wentworth said, "I will not bother you if you so desire."

"And, Mr. Giosua, I thank you for your diligence in ensuring I don't get lost or, worse, arrive late," Nathaniel added. "So, off to the sand I go."

He walked through the trees to the shore before him. It was tranquil--quiet, even. There were a few people meandering around on the beach enjoying the peace before the show, but most seemed to be awaiting the start of Lupercalia and their King's speech.

Nathaniel removed his suit coat and carefully placed it on the sand. Sand was an easy thing to dust away, though he knew he'd find grains of sand in his pockets for months afterwards. He even unbuttoned his shirt, removed it, and placed it on top of the suit coat. Free breathing at last.

Under normal circumstances, he would quickly locate a solitary location. In Chrinthanium, beyond the ever-present paparazzi, the beaches were so crowded in places and so many people had camera phone and wanted nothing more than to take selfies with their emperor. He did entertain them to a degree, but, even the most polite people sometimes forgot that an emperor is still a human who did, from time to time, require some privacy.

The air was cool. It made him smile as it cascaded across his bare torso. All for the good, though. The Mediterranean sun felt spectacular. He even found himself leaning his head back slightly, closing his eyes, and even stretching his arms down and back slightly as if receiving a heavenly message.

He felt something bump his foot. He snapped back into reality as a soccer ball spun on the sand. He heard a few children laughing as one of them cautiously approached. Nathaniel smiled at the boy who couldn't have been more than 10. Nathaniel waved him off and pointed for him to take a position on the beach. The boy paused and then followed the direction. The boy even positioned some of his friends to form a defensive unit. Nathaniel cocked a half smile and began to drive the ball down the beach. At first he attempted to use natural talent, but the beach was not a normal playing surface for a footballer. He adjusted, slowed down, maintained as much control over the ball as the geography would allow. The boys moved closed, defending their goal. He juked around one boy quite decidedly at quarter speed as the boy laughed and tried to tackle Nathaniel.

It was the older boy who came to play. About 13 and, apparently, the brother of the 10 year old, this kid decided to give Nathaniel a full tackle. It surprised the emperor who, in that moment, lost track of the ball only to regain its location as the 13 year old raced down the beach and scored by kicking it between two trees that were just wide enough to be considered a goal.

Nathaniel roared with laughter as the kids celebrated. He felt a tug on his pocket and looked. It was a younger boy, perhaps 8, who was very timid.

The boy said something in Aelian, but the puzzled look on Nathaniel's face gave the boy the realization that the emperor wasn't a native. "Do you play for real?" The boy asked in broken English.

"I used to," Nathaniel said with a smile. "I don't any more."

"You good," the boy said. "Just keep the ball in your sight next time."

Nathaniel smiled widely as then pat the boy on the head, "Yes, sir."

Nathaniel would continue to play until Giosua called for him.

[Astrolinium]

Ilia nodded and watched for a moment as Nathaniel disappeared into the trees. What a smile the man had! He looked back to Wentworth and said, “Well, I’ll be off. Don’t be afraid to talk to Giosua, he doesn’t bite, though I might inform His Imperial Majesty that Giosua is his first name and thus he properly ought to be ‘Mr. Fontane’, or, if His Imperial Majesty is feeling like picking up some of the local language, ‘Don Fontane’.”

He clapped Wentworth on the shoulder amicably and then headed off to have a momentary word with Dr. Romero and Emilia before heading into the green room. Upon reaching the graying foreign secretary and butch defense secretary, he nodded.

“Magiestate!” was Dr. Romero’s overzealous greeting.

The King cocked an eyebrow and motioned from Dr. Romero to Secretary Caralico with an open hand.

“Gio, Emi, chao,” he said. “Gia este pòvliqui, no?”

Giovanni and Emilia exchanged a glance, and then Giovanni frowned and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his coat.

“No?” the King repeated, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “Vuole, ’ta vidimine. Squite qui vuo achettavo, non ippuorta cale, ma, si non eo còveti, vuo spettate. Si?”

Giovanni nodded as he pulled out a cigarette to light. Emilia glanced from Dr. Romero to herself and nodded as well.

The King shrugged. “Vuo amo, peroc i puovlo commicha fare.”

He walked off, leaving the two leaning uncomfortably against Giovanni’s Porsche.

Across the lot, Giosua chuckled softly.

---

After about fifteen minutes, before Giosua could retrieve Nathaniel, a woman in a sunny, yellow tunic appeared through the trees, a hand on one hip, and called, “Gioni, perrenite! Adora’s!”

There was a collective groan from the boys with whom Nate was playing. The ten-year-old rolled his eyes. “Ahhhh, mama!” he shouted.

The woman merely raised her eyebrows, and, though they groaned about it, the boys slowly filtered back towards the meadow. The youngest one took the ball with him and waved to Nate. With a grin, he said, “Thanks for the game, sir!” Then he ran off after the others.

[Chrinthanium]

"Mr. Fontane, Don Fontane," Wentworth said as he placed his smartphone in his pocket, "I cannot begin to tell you how thrilled we are to be here. I know this came together fairly quickly and I can only express my thanks for the hospitality shown thus far. I know that Nate feels the same."

Wentworth reached into his pocket and pulled out a solid gold cigarette case and retrieved one. Taking a Zippo from his pocket, in what seemed like one fluid movement, he lit the cigarette and took a deep drag; exhaling almost as if exasperated. "You know, Don Fontane, it seems like His Majesty has it all together. He's not like Nate. Nate's always impetuous and trying to go off script. It's like trying to catch a chicken with your bare hands sometimes. How do I get Nate to calm down a bit and stick to the script better?"

---

"Thanks for letting me play!" Nathaniel shouted back as the boys disappeared towards the meadow.

To the observant, Nathaniel would also seem slightly disappointed the game didn't last longer. Of course, playing football on sand was much more difficult than on a regular pitch. Nathaniel found himself feeling as though his body was given a decent workout in spite of taking it easy on the young boys. As he began to walk towards his clothes, he turned towards the people who were now moving towards the meadow and took a mental picture. He sat down in the sand next to his shirt and suit coat and rested for a moment. The beads of sweat that had appeared were beginning to evaporate in the cool breeze.

The time was coming near when Giosua would call and the emperor would have to return to the plan. Of course, since he hadn't heard anyone calling for him, Nathaniel did the next best thing he could think at this moment: he laid back in the sand and let the sun wash over him.

He didn't care about being sandy. He didn't care about the shirt being too tight. He didn't care that his amabssador to Astrolinium still hadn't arrived the last time he checked. He was on the cool sand. He was alone. He was being left alone. He was simply Nate right now. No title, no protocol--just a young man lying on a beach. And this was perfect for him.

[Astrolinium]

Glancing at Wentworth, Giosua shrugged. “It is no problem: Astrolinium doesn’t take much of a script. Most of the island either works for the government or for tourism in some way, so we know how to give visitors a good show at even a moment’s notice. It’s like so.”

He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

“As to His Majesty…”

He grinned, glancing towards the green room, and shrugged.

“Well, you can imagine the only getting ready he really has left to do is mentally preparing himself for the day, you get it? He doesn’t stick to the script either, except on days like this one, when he is the one who wrote the script. And, of course, I don’t think he’s ever really gotten over his big day out in Rome a few years ago. The press certainly never has let him. Bit of a trauma, that, so he’s very conscious of not giving me a heart attack these days.”

He sighed.

“I always thought the council should have let his mother stay regent for longer. He handles the job well, but I worry about what it does to him. In my experience, it’s only the people who don’t look like they have it all together who actually do.”

He fell silent, frowning, lost in thought. He had known the King longer than nearly anyone, and he thought he worried about the King more than nearly anyone. After a number of further minutes of waiting and idle chatting with Wentworth – Giosua was a quiet man, he himself rarely spoke unless prompted – he checked his watch and said, “It is time to go get Nathaniel. Come, if you like.”

In the intervening minutes, a few other cars had arrived. Their occupants had looked to be performers, and most had gone to join His Majesty in the green room, though one – he had wild, curly hair and a pair of drumsticks in his back pocket – had joined Dr. Romero and Secretary Caralico, evidently a friend of theirs on some level. Giosua ignored them all, making a beeline straight for and through the cypresses and toward the shore.

He surveyed the beach for a moment before his eyes set upon young Nathaniel laying back in the sand. An amused twitch played across his lips, and he called out, “Your Imperial Majesty, how is the tan coming along?”

[Chrinthanium]

"Maybe you're right," Wentworth said as Giosua talked about those who might actually have it all together. "Nate had it a bit rough. His mother is completely overbearing, forced him to follow strict regiments and all that. It's probably why he played football instead of something more appropriate for a man of his station as his mother always said. Nate's father never really showed him the ropes. Mostly his father worked and worked while Nate and Ryan did their thing by their mother's command. Then, just as Emperor Nicholas V was starting to show Nate how to do the job, Nate's father dropped dead of a heart attack. I remember that day.. he walked out of the dining room, into the hallway. I was coming towards him to bring him some papers. He stopped, grabbed his left arm, then went down in a grunt. Nathaniel was there coming out of the dining room when it happened. Rough day."

Matthew Wentworth took another long drag as Giosua sat quietly apparently taking everything in. When Giosua said it was time to get Nathaniel, Wentworth put the cigarette out and followed Giosua to the beach only to spy Nathaniel lying down in the sand. He shook his head in delight. Only Nate, he thought to himself.

Nathaniel, deep in thought, twitched slightly when he heard the formal title. He cracked open one eye, tilted his head and took a deep sigh. Without anyone else saying anything, he stood up, dusted himself off to the best of his ability, shook out the shirt and coat, folded them over his arm, and marched over to Wentworth. The private secretary brushed the sand off of Nathaniel's back trying desperately not to chuckle but decidedly not being able to prevent it from happening. "You know, you need to pay me more for this kind of service," He said.

"My tan," Nathaniel said ignoring Wentworth intentionally, "is coming along fine, good sir. Just taking in a few quiet moments." Nathaniel put on the shirt in the augmented way he had prior, then, once that was settled, put the suit coat on and buttoned it properly. He refused to attempt to put the tie back on. "Did Reynolds arrive?"

"Not yet," Wentworth said as they began to follow Giosua back to where they needed to be. "I did receive word that your ambassador and his husband are here. They apparently parked somewhere over there." Wentworth gestured in the vague direction of where he assumed a parking lot should be. "It's probably for the best Reynolds isn't here yet. Of course, for some reason, you're sweating a bit. Too hot here for you?"

"No, just a little football with a few kids on the beach. You know how it goes," Nathaniel chirped. "It was nice. They didn't care who I was, nor did they know or even care to know. Except one who thought I might have been a pro."

Wentworth differed to Giosua to lead the way to the next stage of the day.

[Astrolinium]

Giosua waited expectantly as Nathaniel and Wentworth bantered. He gestured toward the tree line and led the pair back toward the small parking lot.

“Now,” he said, “I don’t know how much Romero sent you both as to the schedule. He can be a bit… lax at times. At any rate, you’ll both be waiting in the green room until cued. His Majesty will be on stage to give a short speech and introduce Your Imperial Majesty – your name should be the cue, at which point you will join him. There will be a small band which will play both your and our anthems, there will be a brief exchange of official gifts, and then His Majesty will open the festival. We will all remain on the stage for the duration of the footrace, and then we will acquiesce the stage to the first musical performers.”

As they found themselves back in the parking lot, Giosua began leading the pair toward the Green Room. He continued, “After that, I believe His Majesty intends to give Your Imperial Majesty the opportunity to meet some of the performers – or, rather, give some of the performers the opportunity to meet Your Imperial Majesty, and then I believe that he intends to show you around the festival, meet some of the people, talk to reporters, et cetera.”

The bodyguard reached for the door to the Green Room and pulled it open, gesturing towards the inside of it. True to its name, the room was carpeted in sumptuous green shag, and the walls were papered in a green-white striped pattern with gold trim. It was the sort of pattern which looked like it might have liked to be referred to as being tasteful even though it really wasn’t. On the far side of the room, a door was marked ‘Schena – Stage’. While the whole attachment was called a room, it was actually several: a number of doors led to dressing rooms on the left and right, a fair few of which were open. The main room itself was decorated fairly sparsely: a coffee table and a few couches occupied its middle, and the far side held a kitchenette, complete with a microwave, refrigerator, coffee pot, and sink. Along the near wall, a wide-screen television showed a closed circuit view of the stage.

On the couches, two young men – they seemed to lie comfortably within the decade between twenty and thirty – were lounging in the nude. Both had the sort of tan, olive skin one often encountered in the Mediterranean; the nearest had long, curly locks of brown hair, and the furthest had a frizzy mop of blonde. They glanced up briefly as the door opened, and then resumed chatting in Aelian. On the coffee table next to them were a jar of red paint, a brush, and a vase full of what looked to be milk. Next to the further one, and older woman reclined. She was not nude – in fact, she was wearing a floor-length gown of gold silk that sparkled in the light whenever she moved – but she seemed utterly unperturbed by the nudity of the two men next to her, and was, in fact, absorbed somewhat intently by whatever was on her phone.

From one of the dressing rooms, the King reappeared, still in his garb from earlier, though now an unornamented gold circlet adorned the top of his head. He grinned and approached Nathaniel with open arms.

“Ah, is Your Imperial Majesty ready to see what Lupercalia is all about?” he asked.

At the words ‘imperial majesty’, the air in the room changed dramatically. Suddenly, the woman’s phone seemed to disappear, and the two young men seemed almost to spring upward (the woman stood with considerably more grace, though she stood nonetheless). The two men would bow as Nathaniel entered the room, and the woman would curtsy.

[Chrinthanium]

Wentworth entered first. The two nude men sitting on the couch were where his eyes instantly went. The Chrinthani were far from being prudes. Nudity was celebrated, nude beaches were a very common sight, and people spoke openly about things in that same vein. It just wasn't normal for the Emperor of Chrinthanium to be presented to two nude twenty-somethings in his official capacity. Wentworth would relax his face slightly as he thought to himself, I bet Nate doesn't mind this at all. He supposed this was an Astrolinian thing and erased any issues from his own mind as he cast eyes upon the lady in gold whose smartphone was being worked almost as much as Wentworth worked his.

Nathaniel entered just behind Wentworth. Unlike Wentworth, Nathaniel's eyes hit the wallpaper first. He'd been in many of green rooms, but he couldn't recall a single one actually having green in it outside of perhaps celery stalks or cucumber slices as snacks. When he was introduced, Nathaniel realized his cover was, for all intents and purposes, blown and that from here on out any anonymity he had on the island was simply done and over with. As everyone stood up and then bowed down, Nathaniel politely nodded in royal fashion. Noticing the men were nude, Nathaniel turned on his trademarked smile and then turned his attention to the lady in the shimmering gold gown and nodded to her curtsy. "It's a pleasure to meet you all," Nathaniel said graciously.

When Ilia had asked if he was ready to see what Lupercalia was all about, Nathaniel freely said, "I'm giddy with anticipation, Your Majesty." He noticed the circlet on Ilia's head an instantly tried to remember the last time he actually wore either a crown or a circlet. He remembered wearing the crown once at his coronation, though usually that thing happens at that kind of event. He remembered wearing his circlet to open parliament and to open the Emperor's Cup football tournament. Outside of that, even if the situation dictated he needed some adornment demonstrating his position, he just plain refused to wear it. He remembered his father always telling him that no one likes a tall poppy.

It was at that point that a bald man seemingly out of breath came into the green room with a white handmade silk dress shirt on a hangar for Nathaniel. Wentworth accepted the shirt and tapped Nathaniel on the shoulder.

"Reynolds!" Nathaniel said happily, "Thank you. Thank you for coming out here. I am sorry that you had to rush out here, though. I keep forgetting to take pens out of my pocket." Nathaniel said.

"Your Imperial Majesty," Reynolds stated, "May I have the damaged shirt?"

"Well, uh, Wentworth is wearing it now. But, if you give us a few moments, we'll sort out the shirts," Nathaniel said. At that point, Nathaniel found an empty dressing room and changed into the new shirt. Once assured everything was perfect, he reappeared and nodded to Wentworth for him to change back into his own shirt.

"Now I feel better," Nathaniel said. "I appreciate you assisting me in my little wardrobe crisis, Matthew."

When Wentworth reappeared, he handed the damaged shirt to Reynolds who nodded to Nathaniel and then left almost as quickly as he arrived. "Imperial Majesty, it is always my pleasure to help when needed."

Nathaniel then turned his attention to the two nude men, "Gentlemen, will you be performing this morning?"

[Astrolinium]

The nude men nodded. The blond one said, “Indeed, Imperial Majesty. We are the runners, if you could not guess from our state of undress.”

The King motioned from one man to the other. Pointing first at the blond man and then at the curly-haired one, he said, “This is Marco Altieri, who will be our Fabius, and this is Enrico Rosso, who will be our Quinctilius. More specifically, Marco will be running to help resettle Syrian refugees, and Enrico for a program which helps educate young girls in undeveloped countries. The winner of the race will see all proceeds from today’s festival donated to their charity, and then I will match that donation from my personal wealth in a donation to the other man’s charity. So, everyone wins.”

The two men nodded respectfully. Enrico glanced from the King to the Emperor briefly – he stood perhaps more upright than was strictly necessary, his muscles tensed. Marco, on the other hand, seemed much more comfortable in the presence of royalty. Neither, of course, had anything to be ashamed about in regards to their bodies – they had, after all, been selected to run nude for a reason. Nonetheless, it was unusual to be presented nude to a foreign head of state, even in Astrolinium.

“And this,” the King continued, gesturing to the woman, “is the incomparable Titania Caspian, who will be performing after the foot race. I do not know if you keep up with the World Hit Festival in Chrinthanium, but she won the very third one for us, and I cannot express how proud we are of her. She has a voice like an angel, and even the strongest men have been known to weep upon hearing it.”

Titania had a mousy look about her. She seemed to be in her mid-40s, though her makeup would make her look younger from afar than she actually was. A pince nez with a gold chain sat upon the thin bridge of her nose, and through it, large grey eyes regarded the King and the Emperor closely. At Ilia’s kind words, a very small little grin appeared on her face, and her cheeks reddened slightly.

“His Majesty speaks more highly of me than I think realistic,” she said to Wentworth and Nathaniel. “Though I do hope Your Imperial Majesty will find my performance pleasant.”

Ilia snorted and waved his hand as if to dismiss the very idea. “Titania, my dear, he will be stunned.” He grinned and looked at Nate. “Believe me,” he said. “You have to think, ‘oh, there must be a reason that thirty other countries would vote for this tiny island they’d never heard of in an international competition’, and it’s her.”

[Chrinthanium]

Nathaniel nodded as befitting and smiled, "It's a pleasure to meet you all. Gentlemen, I cannot wait to see which one of you comes in first. I wish you both good luck. And Ms. Caspian, I have heard of your voice and I can only say that I greatly anticipate you allowing us to share in your natural talent."

"Your Majesty," Nathaniel started, "No one has to ask why this tiny island, as you referred to it, would ever win a competition. It is won by being the best. The island may not be large nor may it be very populous, but it is a good and decent land with wonderful people, natural beauty, and a great spirit. If everyone saw the Astrolinium I see today, I'm certain the world would come calling."

Wentworth smiled at the nude men and Ms. Caspian, "Pleasure to meet you all." Wentworth also noticed Nathaniel's eyes giving the blonde, Marco Altieri, perhaps a few more glances than Enrico Rosso. Wentworth cleared his throat and motioned for Nathaniel to be seated. Nathaniel took the cue and sat down.

"Mr. Altieri, Mr. Rosso, are you solely runners or do you play other sports as well," Nathaniel asked. "I've always been the sporting type. Played football... soccer, I think you call it here... in my college days. Could've probably gone pro if it wasn't for one minor detail."

[Astrolinium]

“You flatter myself and my people deeply, Your Imperial Majesty,” was all that Ilia said. The glances at Marco did not escape him either, and he had to hold back the improper urge to laugh. At the cue to sit, he and the others followed suit. The two runners returned largely to the positions they’d been in before, though Titania shifted to allow room for the King on the couch she’d been on.

Marco grinned, and glanced from Nathaniel to Ilia. “Is that what he told you?” he asked, pointing from the King to the Emperor. “Your Imperial Majesty, my friend the King has been pulling your leg if he told you we call it soccer. It is football here, as it is in any civilized society.”

The King opened his mouth in feigned shock at being betrayed in this way. “I did nothing of the sort!” he declared. He glanced down at the ground. “It is hardly my fault if His Imperial Majesty has misinterpreted my statements.”

Marco rolled his eyes and then cast his gaze back towards Nate. “Probably playing a joke on you. He loves his jokes. Oh, the trouble he’d get us in back in the day!”

Ilia shook his head and sighed. “You will have to forgive Marco, Your Imperial Majesty. He is one of my oldest and dearest friends, and I am afraid that sometimes this leads him to forget himself in my presence.”

Marco sat up and scoffed, gesturing wildly towards Nathaniel. “Forget myself! He’s already seen my cock. I doubt a little idle banter will offend him.” He pouted and turned towards Nathaniel again. Voice dripping with sardonic humor, he said, “Your Imperial Majesty, my deepest apologies if I have shattered your delicate sensibilities by my rustic manner.”

Now it was the King’s turn to roll his eyes. Meanwhile, Enrico continued to look deeply uncomfortable. After a moment of silence, in a small, low voice, he said, “I quite like football, Your Imperial Majesty. I played left midfielder for our club here while I was getting my degree.”

[Chrinthanium]

Wentworth nearly fell off out of his seat when Marco made mention of his manhood. This, in turn, caused Nathaniel, already laughing himself, to nearly cry from laughter.

"Mr. Altieri," Nathaniel started while trying to reign in his laughter, "I think I'll make it official policy that all future first meetings must be done in the buff. There's no better way to break the ice. And sarcastic banter is my favorite kind. For certain you've nothing to hide at this point, so please do not concern yourself with tone. I'll also have to be on my guard around His Majesty from now on. Thanks for the tip."

Nathaniel turned his attention to Marco Rosso and his more timid voice, "Well, I was a right winger and forward in both high school and university. A few of the blokes I played with are now in the Chrinthani Super League and one is in the Premier League in England. Probably would be there with them, but that wasn't quite the direction life took me." Nathaniel let out an audible sigh. "Of course, in the charity matches, I'm always there playing. I do love the game."

[Astrolinium]

The King turned as red as a beet. Stammering, he got out, “I… well… eh… Fot’te, Marco!” He glared at the blond, who merely grinned back. Marco stuck out his tongue and shouted back, “Vuo, gia nonca fottevi te, Ili! Non se sta ta roso, amino.” He made a circle with his finger, gesturing towards the King’s blushing cheeks, and then he grabbed his stomach and curled up into a ball as he let forth a high-pitched cackle.

Enrico and Titania’s eyebrows both shot skyward, and they exchanged a glance. Stumbling over his words, Enrico tried to respond to the Emperor, but found he kept glancing back at the King – who had taken to fiddling sheepishly with his cufflinks – as he tried to do so.

“I, eh, I’m afraid that…” Enrico said, trying not to laugh nervously, “well, we’ve only got a, heh, a local club here, and the school in town has some teams, of course.”

He trailed off. As he did so, the King stood. The red color had faded from his cheeks, and he looked from Wentworth to Nathaniel. Calmly, he said, “I do believe that I am needed on stage. Your Imperial Majesty, Wentworth, I do hope that Marco, Enrico, and Titania might keep the two of you sufficiently entertained while you wait until it is time to join me.”

He made a very slight bend that could have been a bow, shot one last dirty look at Marco, and then turned to go. Marco shrugged as he did so.

[Chrinthanium]

Wentworth was not the kind who took his job lightly. There was protocol and it must be followed. While he knew they weren't in Chrinthanium, the level of informality about considering this would be the first impression the Chrinthani had of Astrolinium cause Wentworth to wonder just where they were. Wentworth attempted to remain neutral, but involuntary facial expressions were deceiving his intentions.

Nathaniel wanted to know what was said and, in more particular terms, what they sign language meant, but, obviously, it caused Ilia some slight embarrassment, so he decided not ask and gave a polite chuckle. Then Nathaniel shrugged.

"Mr. Altieri, I suppose I have to ask the question why you're both naked. Not that I mind, but I am curious as to why," Nathaniel asked.

The emperor also became concerned about Marco's nervousness. It was apparently that he was uncomfortable. Perhaps, as Nathaniel first thought, it was being in such a state of undress around complete strangers, but that didn't seem to be the real reason. In fact, the nervousness seemed to be brought into the forefront the more the conversation went down less proper paths.

"Do you want to play football," Nathaniel asked with interest of Enrico. "I can get you tryouts with some of the professional teams back home. I'll have Wentworth leave my office number with you in case you ever want to give it a try. Also, I'm certain you can find enough people to form two teams here. Even if they only play once a year. Maybe your neighboring nations will let Astrolinium join their leagues if they have them."

[Astrolinium]

As Ilia left, a breeze intruded into the room from outside. When he appeared on the closed circuit television, he was the picture of composure, a broad grin on his face, waving to the crowd beyond.

Marco Altieri shook his head one more time and then turned back to Nathaniel. “Ah, well, Your Imperial Majesty, it is for Lupercal. The Romans did it naked, and therefore so do we. I always find it interesting – it’s so Astrolinian of us, revive a Roman festival, leave out the animal sacrifice, keep the nudity. Beyond that…”

He shrugged. “Believe me,” he said, “it is not normal that we would greet you like this. To be honest, if the King had thought to tell us you were about to enter, I might have covered up, which is part of why I decided to be hard on him. He gets upset so easily.”

A bit uncomfortable with the idea that the conversation might be heading back down this path, Enrico Rosso interjected, adding, “As I remember from school, not even the Romans really remembered where the festival came from. The Nationalists revived it back in the nineteenth century, because they were wanting us to establish a firm national identity against Oquepeano oppression, and because they thought it would piss off the Catholics because it was the same time as the Day of St. Valentine.”

On the TV, they could see the King gesturing dramatically as he spoke in Latin. Nathaniel would probably be able to catch a few words here and there – words like amor, gloria, dignitas, and cursores seemed to keep coming up.

While the boys spoke, Titania Caspian calmly stood and said, “If any of you need me, I’ll be in my dressing room putting some final touches on my makeup.”

Marco waved absently as she left for one of the side rooms. Enrico, meanwhile, sighed dramatically. Now that the King had left, he actually seemed more relaxed, though it may have been merely that he was growing more comfortable around the guest.

“Ah, Imperial Majesty, I cannot tell you how much I would love to, but unfortunately, I am a good Astrolinian, and so my future lies in diplomatic service. Dr. Romero tells me that I am under strong consideration as a consul to Aleria, if you know that nation.”

He shrugged. “To be honest, I barely know it myself. I have a lot of research to do before I am shipped off.”

[Chrinthanium]

"Well, you certainly kept the best parts and ditched the worst parts. I, for one, applaud the effect. I can only imagine how it see to witness the race." Nathaniel said. "If I had known you both were going to be nude, I would have done the same just for the laughs." When Tatiana excused herself, Nathaniel stood up for the lady and said, "Break a leg."

Nathaniel's eyebrows arched slightly at the terms good Astrolinian and shipped off. He remembered the terms he heard from his mother so many years ago. A 'good Thornton' and 'shipped off' and 'one's duty'. Those were words he hated with passion. Those were words which indicated that free will was not a thing and the good of the one was being sacrificed to traditions. He recalled the conversations with his mother explaining that he was gay anyway, so Ryan would carry the line. Explaining that Ryan would be a better emperor. Explaining that he didn't want to be emperor. All those conversations fell on deaf ears. And now Nathaniel wore the weight of the Chrinthani on his shoulders. He did the things he had to and gave up the things he wanted to do.

"Forgive my ignorance of local traditions and as I broadly overreach my opinions, but is that what you want to do? Serve in the Diplomatic Corps?" Nathaniel stated. "Certain, if it is what you want, then let no one stop you. If it isn't,then do what it is you want, my friend. Be happy. Be free."

It was at that time that Wentworth's cell phone rang a distinct cadence in the vein of a military march but without harmony. He stood up and walked outside to take the call.

"Now that Wentworth is gone," Nathaniel said, "Call me Nate when he's not around. He's such a stickler for protocol in these situations. Please, I insist."

[Astrolinium]

Marco and Enrico shared a glance as Wentworth left the room and Nathaniel asked about the service. Enrico waved his right hand around in circles, gesturing as though he were trying to pull the right words from the air.

“Ehhhhhh, it’s like… you know, I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want to, but there are only so many jobs. What else would I do, work in a shop? Be a waste man? I could try to play football over in Eugepae or Malsitar, or even Chrinthanium, but who knows if I am good enough? It’s the best option that I know will be a career. It’s just, you know, they don’t let a guy with only a few years of experience go be the ambassador to some important place, you get it? So they send me somewhere that sucks a little bit and doesn’t matter as much if I screw it all up, and I whine a little about it.”

Marco stood while Enrico talked and walked over to the kitchenette, blissfully unconcerned with the fact that he was displaying his bare ass to a foreign head of state in doing so. On the counter, there was a bowl of fruit, from which he selected a bright red apple.

As Marco washed off the fruit in the sink, the blond added, “We all do what we have to, or the island wouldn’t work. Astrolinium, it’s all one big familia.”

He turned around and took a bite out of the apple, a loud crunching sound emanating from it. On the CCTV, the King continued speaking. Hodie, sicut laetissimus omnium, sicut pater infantis ridentis sum, nam hic sunt, hic estis vos, vos omnes, Astrolinienses.

[Chrinthanium]

"I suppose the community isn't entirely thrilled when someone runs off to join the circus," Nathaniel said. "Still, take the card and keep it. If you ever feel the urge to give it a go, I'll set up some meetings. Worst-case scenario is you remain in the diplomatic service. Best case scenario: I get to present to you the Emperor's Cup under the lights at Chrinthani Airlines Arena as a member of AFC Dariopolis (my personal favorite team in the CSL)." Nathaniel smiled at the last comment. "I believe it was Virgil who said, 'fortune favors the bold.'"

Then Nathaniel focused his attention on Marco standing there eating an apple. The thoughts racing through Nathaniel's mind were far too racy to speak out loud, but sufficed to say that it was very entertaining to Nathaniel. "It is nice to be part of one big family--happy family, I would assume. You have a wonderful atmosphere here. It seems, at times, almost too perfect. Of course, when you are used to the other shoe always dropping, you always expect that. You expect that for every X there is a Y and for every up there is a down. Cynicism: the result of disappointed idealism."

It was at that point Wentworth entered the green room again. He approached Nathaniel and then sat next to him. "Majesty, His Imperial Highness, Prince Ryan has been sent to hospital. He apparently broke the femur of his left leg surfing at the family estate earlier this morning. The Dowager Empress thought you should know. She tells me she is upset that you did not answer your personal phone and that she had to send the message--as usual--through me. Apparently the surf was quite high from a passing cyclone and The Prince was caught by the lip of a 14-meter wave."

"I told him not to surf the spot while Cyclone Edward passed by. He can't handle the big waves. Tell my darling mother I will call her later today when we're done here at the festival. I love Ryan, but it is just a broken leg. Besides, I did warn him before we left." Nathaniel finished.

"Sorry, gentlemen. My brother may have the brains in the family, but he seems to have balanced out smarts by trading away common sense." Nathaniel said.

"Yes, well, you traded away both intelligence and common sense for good looks, mad football skillz, yo, and piano." Wentworth quipped trying to bring some levity to the mood.

"See, gentleman, all monarchs have those who are snarky towards us. It's a perk of the job. It helps keep us in line." Nathaniel stated. "Besides, we're often handled with kid gloves by most. It is good to have trusted friends who you can cut up with."

It was also noted by Nathaniel that Ilia was, if Nathaniel's Latin was more rusty than he assumed, stating something about a child's father, and that everyone there was Astrolinian.

[Astrolinium]

Contrary to Nathaniel’s understanding, however, a great many of the people assembled on the lawn that day were not Astrolinians. In the half hour since the royal party had arrived, the crowd size had swelled to nearly six thousand people. While a large number – over two-thousand – were indeed citizens of Astrolinium, and another several hundred counted themselves among the island’s permanent residents, nearly half the crowd hailed from foreign nations, come to see the spectacle. Most of the visitors looked Oquepeano or Citarian, but quite a few looked to be from elsewhere, possibly from places as close as the Kingdom of Rome or Aleria, and perhaps as far away as Kannap or Brazil. ‘See Astrolinium in February!’ the tourist brochures had said, ‘And don’t miss the Lupercalia, an ancient Roman festival in the modern day!’ Well, the tourists had come. They formed a mass of bright colors in front of the stage, a pulsating sea of flesh and fabric.

Back in the green room, Enrico took the business card from the Emperor, looked around briefly, and placed it on the table. “I don’t seem to have anywhere to put it right now,” he said, punctuating the statement with a small, single laugh.

Marco was about to respond to Nathaniel’s comment about every X needing its Y – a smirk had crossed his face at the idea that Astrolinium had somehow escaped this reality – when Wentworth reentered to inform the Emperor of his brother’s accident. It was odd to him how nonchalantly Nate took the news: Marco thought on the years his own brother had been abroad, and the way their mother would fuss any time she heard of even the slightest misfortune happening to him while she couldn’t get to him. He supposed that the tendency to worry must have worn off on him – he hardly liked letting Petro out of his sight.

The blond was pulled out of his thoughts and back into the conversation by the utter oddity of the words ‘mad football skillz yo’ coming from the mouth of a man like Wentworth. He took another bite of his apple, an amused look upon his face, and ventured, “We all need friends, Your Imperial Majesty. His Majesty, he has no personal secretary like you, so he gets me.”

He shrugged. On the CCTV, Ilia continued on. “Hoc dies, hoc Lupercalis dies,” he intoned, “semper mirabilis est, sed hodie, mirabilior! Hodie enim quidam hospes, longe advectus, ad nostram insulam videndam, adest. Si benigne illum accipietis, mihi magnopere placebit, illum imperatorem, illum nobis amicum, illum ex Chrinthanio. Ad scaenam accipite, quaeso, Maiestatem Imperialem Suam, Nathaniel IV, Chrinthanii Imperatorem.”

[Chrinthanium]

Nathaniel chuckled, "Well, I'm certain that we can make sure you receive the card before you leave the grounds."

The Blond's comment about needing friends was hit immediately by Nathaniel, "You make that sound like it's a bad thing. Good friends are hard to find, particularly at this level."

Nathaniel heard his name, stood up, made sure his coat was buttoned, and moved towards the entrance of the stage. Before walking out, he nodded for Wentworth to come over to him. "Make sure that you keep me posted on Ryan. I can't call my darling mother until this festival is over."

"Not much you can do from here anyway, Imperial Majesty," Wentworth responded. He made sure Nathaniel's tie was straight, smiled at him, then spoke, "Showtime, Imperial Majesty."

Nathaniel walked onto the stage and raised his hand and began waving to the crowd. He walked over to Ilia and smiled brightly and shook his hand politely and regally. Nathaniel remained standing as the band began playing the anthems. When the band played the Chrinthani National Anthem, God Defend Our Emperor, it would be noted that Nathaniel did not sing it at all. The few Chrinthani in the crowd could be overheard singing, though. Since the words of the song spoke about defending the emperor, keeping him righteous and just, and all similar platitudes, it was like God Save The Queen in its idealism and the monarch did not sing it on purpose since it was a prayer sung for the emperor himself.

Nathaniel scanned the crowd. He saw his ambassador and his husband off near the stage. They had indeed arrived late, but better late than never. He could see the boys he played football with suddenly realizing who he was and getting moderately excited by the fact they'd played football with an emperor. Other people he noticed seemed mostly to respect the anthems as they played. Once that ended, some would snap pictures with their cell phone, particularly the 20 or so Chrinthani who were part of the Imperial entourage.

While Nathaniel and Ilia stood on stage doing official things, Wentworth was navigating the gift towards the stage. A box, long and flat, was pressed through the green room and towards the stage. It was rather light--only about 4 kilograms in weight. It would be held off stage until the presentation was ready to start. That's when Wentworth would take the stage and ensure the present was given to Nathaniel to present.

When the anthem played, Wentworth didn't sing. He kind of almost shook his head in humor as he recalled the great Chrinthani-Kiwi Argument over the song playing right now. It was a Chrinthani who wrote the music, unlike what the Kiwi thought. It was a Chrinthani song and anthem before it was ever played for the Kiwis. Still, the two nations were in a headed debate about who owned the song--a song the Emperor of Chrinthanium has a copyright claim on before the Kiwis ever tried.

[Astrolinium]

The playing of the Chrinthani anthem was followed by the playing of the Astrolinian one. Through no one person’s fault, the rendition of Hymnus Regi was somewhat more striking: firstly, it was a familiar piece to the Astrolinium School Band, and not something hastily learned as soon as the Chrinthani Emperor’s visit had been announced. Secondly, while one a handful of Chrinthanis dotted the crowd, there were several thousand Astrolinians in attendance, and so, as the band played, the people made a joyous noise, and the anthem rang throughout the meadow with one clarion voice, some singing it in Latin and others in their native Aelian, but all singing it with the familiarity and pride in one’s country which is only achieved in the presence of a foreigner, to whom said pride must be shown off.

Hymnum Regi

Rex Astroliniorum,
O pater populorum,
duc nos ex inimicis
et in Deum.

Effer Arcadiam,
defende patriam,
cura et porta nos in
Solis lucem.

Rex Astroliniorum
O pater populorum,
duc nos ex inimicis
et in Deum.

Agnosce optimos,
defende miseros,
cura et porta nos in
Solis lucem.

Rex Astroliniorum
O pater populorum,
duc nos ex inimicis
et in Deum.

Cura insulam,
serva patriam,
duc nos in Deum,
et Astrolinium.

As the people sang, the King stood on the stage, surveying the crowd. Every year, he wondered how they compared him to his father, who had stood before them for decades before the responsibility had suddenly been thrust on Ilia. This year, looking out at the crowd, it occurred to him that there were children as old as seven, perhaps even older, given how early memories flee, who had never known how his father had led the Astrolinian people in the Lupercal rite.

The stage itself was a semicircular floor of hardwood. While the King and the Emperor stood front and center, behind them, a number of chairs were arranged in a row. While four were empty, the others had their occupants. Furthest to the left sat a woman who looked to be in her late forties, her hair – tight, black curls – held up and woven into a complex style. She wore a modest dress of light, silver fabric, ornamented with the deep, royal green of the Astrolinian flag, and a glittering diamond necklace sat around her neck. Her eyes were the same as the King’s.

To her right, beyond the empty chairs, sat the members of the Royal Advisory Board. Dr. Romero and Emilia Caralico had, it seemed, found their ways quite handily from the parking lot to the stage at some point in the previous minutes, and sat looking the picture of formality, starkly unlike the casual air they had fostered near Dr. Romero’s Porsche.

Next to Dr. Romero sat a corpulent, graying man. What little hair he had was slicked back with overly much gel, and he wore a suit of gray pinstripes which made him look for all the world like a banker. Next to him was a man, equally old, with far darker skin than most anyone Nathaniel would have yet seen on the island. Horn-rimmed glasses perched over a broad, flat nose, piercing eyes peering out from behind them. He wore a suit of purple tweed, and the pin clipped to his tie bore the seal of the Astrolinian Department of Domestic Affairs. Next to this man was where Emilia Caralico sat, and three more men sat to her right. The first among them was a slight, scholarly fellow, who had substituted the suits of his comrades for a long, orange doublet which resembled a more formal version of the tunic his fellow Astrolinians had donned. Next to him was a great, hulking man in late middle age who wore the black robes and powdered wig which in all the places of the world demarcated a judge, and finally sat a very old man who looked for all the world like an ancient Roman out of his time. He wore a white tunic and toga, a medal was pinned to his chest, and a postman’s cap made of green fabric was perched upon his wizened head.

As the last strains of the Astrolinian anthem faded, the King smiled at Nate and began to speak once more.

“Your Imperial Majesty, I welcome you to my humble island home. I know it is not so grand as your own, but I hope it shall be sufficient. Please, accept this gift as a token of friendship from all the people of Astrolinium.”

At his words, Dr. Romero rose, a long, white box of cardboard under his arm. He strode to the front of the stage, saluted, and then held out the box. A grin on his face, the King lifted the lid, revealing a simple tunic of the finest red silk, hemmed with a gold border. It looked to be just about Nathaniel’s size.

“A tunic, our customary, traditional dress, in order that you might take a piece of Astrolinium home with you,” he declared.

[Chrinthanium]

The Chrinthani delegation worried not that their anthem would seem less regal in comparison. It was to be expected at events held outside of the emperor's domains. It would be important to the Chrinthani their anthem did not outshine their hosts. The music given was the true anthem, but in a more relaxed version. In Chrinthanium, three verses were sung: one in Native Chrinthani, two others in English... plus there were flourishes that were not used outside of the empire.

In spite of the size of Astrolinium, Nathaniel could tell it, along with its people, had a very big heart and a lot of pride in itself; and, most assuredly, it should. Beyond its natural beauty, it seemed a nation of peace, of tranquility, of giving everyone a fair go: things that the Chrinthani prided themselves on.

When the present was given, Nathaniel's eyes widened. He was absolutely humbled and thrilled with the gift. "I thank Your Majesty for this most gracious and special welcome. To the good people of Astrolinium, to its government representatives, and Your Majesty, I am both touched and honored to receive such a beautiful, thoughtful, and personal gift. I shall treasure this as a reminder of both the warmth, beauty, and greatness of Astrolinium, but also as a symbol of the friendship which begins in earnest today. On behalf of the People of Chrinthanium, I accept this gift." It was at this point Wentworth appeared beside Nathaniel. The box itself was white with a red bow. It was long and flat, a few centimeters shorter than Nathaniel. "As well as offer this humble gift as a token of friendship from the People of Chrinthanium."

Wentworth opened the box and, what would not be surprising to anyone, it was a surfboard. It was not like many surfboards. First, it was hand crafted by a man known in Chrinthanium as the Kahuna, the greatest surfboard craftsman in the empire. The board was not fiberglass, though. This was made from balsa wood, like the originals. There was a recognizable design on the board: the flag of Astrolinium, though it was not in green and gold. It was burned into the wood itself by hand. While it may appear to be a ceremonial gift, it was, by far, able to be ridden by beginner or pro alike--not that he expected Ilia to actually use it for surfing. Upon further inspection, there was a saying also burned into the wood in the Native Chrinthani. "E iti noa ana nā te aroha"

"The words," Nathaniel pointed at the narrow portion near the top of the board, " are written in the Native tongue. It means, A small thing given with love." Then Nathaniel smiled, raised his right forearm up to his heart, turned the back of his clenched hand to Ilia, extended the thumb and pinky almost like people who imitate a telephone. He then gave it a shake. "In Chrinthanium, this is a sign of friendship and brotherhood. Many of you may well know it as the Shaka sign from all those surfing movies. To us, it isn't a gimmick, but the Chrinthani way of life."