Salve,
In celebration of the defeat of the malicious coalition of totalitarian states known as the Third Solution, the Caspian League will be holding a Victory Ball. We courteously invite fellow world leaders to attend and revel with us.
The Ball will be held on April 15th starting at 6:00 PM, in the Andouin Citadel of Caelestiam City. Highlights of the Victory Ball include a banquet (complete with a fully stocked, traditional Caelestian Xizusanza Bar - ask for further information) and special guest performances by some of the League's greatest musicians. The Citadel gates open at 6:00 PM and close at 2:00 PM. If you would like to stay overnight, please specify upon entry and guest quarters will be prepared for you and your party.
Dress code is formal; both men and women are required to come in full military dress uniform, formal court dress, or modest, polished evening dress.
The following items are prohibited:
- Swords, knives, dirks, or any sort of bladed weapon.
- Maces, cudgels, clubs, or any sort of blunt weapon.
- Firearms of any sort.
- Explosives.
- Dresses with long trains (as these may possibly trip fellow attendees).
Though the Citadel will be heavily guarded throughout the night, you are permitted to bring a small security detail, and this is recommended should you elect to leave the Citadel and travel around Caelestiam City.
Attached to this invitation is a schedule of events, a menu of food to be served at the banquet, and noteworthy individuals that will be present.
We hope to see you at the ball.
Citadel Exterior
Citadel Ballroom
Hall of Melody
Citadel Ballroom
Hall of Melody
Schedule of Events
- 6:00PM - Opening of the Citadel Gates
- 6:00PM-7:30PM - Introduction and Greetings
- 7:30PM-8:29PM - Introductory Performance of the Holy Philharmonic Salvine City Orchestra
- 8:30PM-10:59PM - Ball Starts, Banquet is Available. Guest performances throughout.
- 11:00PM-12:00AM - Caspian War Military Award Ceremony.
- 12:00AM-1:59AM - Ball continues, Banquet continues until 2:00 AM.
- 2:00AM - Closing of the Citadel Gates. Guests staying overnight may head to their quarters if they wish.
Cuisine and Beverages
Main Courses: Pollum avec Vinu (Polavi - Wine Braised Chicken Stew).Fervabaisse (Fish Stew), Ruskadunian Corned Beef Hash, Xizusanza, Suirruoks Beef (Pot Roast Marinated in White Wine), Parsley-Garlic Ribeye Steak, Cinnamon-Apple Pork Chops, Andouille Sausage Strata, Italian Lasagna, Sessrumnir Roast Lamb, Urqumant Fermented Herring, Bruudkoikosa (Blood Sausage), Veal in red wine, caramelised shallots and garlic, served on a bed of gratin dauphinois with roasted vegetables, Monkfish wrapped in Parma ham with a sauce of white wine, shallots, capers, and green chillies, Fillet Steak in a honey and pistachio sauce with paprika chips, Pan-fried Salmon with a Balsamic glaze.
Appetizers: Escargots dul Marais, Bruschetta Prosciutto, Parmesan Pannacotta Amuse-Bouche, Calamari, Anrhaith Crab Cakes, Tiger Prawns served in sizzling olive oil with chilli and garlic.
Sides: Breaded or Non-Breaded Shrimp, Baked Potatoes, Assorted Salads, Pudeduninfrailrr (Potato Dumplings), Tar Sequini Garlic Bread, Noatuni Sushi.
Desserts: Calissons, Crème brûlée, Vinseaux Grape Tart, Saint Estrela Cake (Buttery Puff Pastry With Custard or Chocolate Filling), Shanyu Ice Cream, Arretium Gelatin, Tar Sequini Sugared Cherries, Chocolate-coated Strawberries, Pasteis de Nata, TSS Brand Gummy Shapes.
Beverages (Nonalcoholic): MUG Root Beer, Sprite, Coca-Cola (Flavour Variant Upon Request), Pepsi (FVUR), Caspia®Sparkling Water, Heavy Bubbles.
Beverages (Alcoholic): Reverdin-Chagnon® Wines, Yingtao (Southsea Cherry Wine), Bearded Barrel® Ales, Lagers and Stouts, Isbjörn® White Ale, Valbiorn® Whiskey, Kungsgard '64 Single Malt, Ruskadunian Absinthe, Mæotian Liquor, Shalorni Rum, Reyksalar Hard Cider, TSS Brand Vodka.
Notable Persons
Caelestiam: King Mathias Andouin I. Queen-Mother Tana Andouin. Ministress Kazimah DuQieng. Minister Pascien Ulfonse. Minister Alistan Malique. Ministress Saphiir Malique. Minister Hjorzian Kamuzu. Ministress Iola Kamuzu. Senior Master Sergeant Alexandre Avelli. Sophitia Larane. Tiburo Aranoa.
Zaurell: Emperor Nieldun Gildedtongue I. Prince Nasvell Gildedtongue I. Prince Waldeal Gildedtongue I. Princess Meriel Gildedtongue I. Admiral Adelina Braveshine. General Fabian Reinhold Boehler. Birar Commander Vinzent Gutermuth. Shadowcloak Gelomo Thurstan. Captain Janina Ebbe Hutmacher. Corporal Henry Valentin Ingersson. Sergeant Reiner Adalberht. Black Knight Camilla Athaulf Reuter. Black Knight Hugleikr Ottmar.
Kragholm Free States:
- His Most Noble Majesty, General Sir Henryk Sebastian Drake, Fourteenth Duke of Vasswick, Knight of the Royal Order of the Chalice, and Lord Protector of the Realm.
- Lady Elisabeth Nimue, Third Countess of Strattburg and Knight of the Royal Order of the Silver Lance.
Fascistisk States: Chancellor Rakel Trygstad, Provincial Governor Straagland, Provincial Governor Ringstad.
Tyronian Socialist State: Flebe Tyronian
European Empire: Chancellor Carl Drache, Minister Oliver Smith, Minister Roxanne Chastain, Captain Maksymilian Ziliński
Imperial America: Emperor Erik Valemont, Empress Cornelia Valemont, Imperial War General Tara Sigilis
The Hook Islands: PM Jennifer Harper, LtGen. Michael Carter
Ukrainian Airspace, March 5th, 2017
The Caspian League had formed with the intent of slowing the rise of cruel and totalitarian states and defeating those that already existed. In its formation it had originally sought to pressure reform in the state of Zeanobia, a twisted and politically inconsistent communist state that permitted the exploitation of children. What the League did not anticipate was the rise of a coalition known as the Third Solution, which sought to conquer, assimilate, and slaughter those caught in their sights and those who stood in their path. The war had been bloody and hard fought - so much death in so little time, but with the defeat of the Fascistisk States at the Battle of Uhræskt mere days ago, peace, even if a tenuous one, reigned again.
Save for the sound of the engines, the flight from Uhræskt was nearly silent. Within the transport aircraft, most soldiers either slept, or quietly occupied themselves with some activity or another. They had lived to see the end of a lightning war, and were now most fortunate to finally be heading home to the Kingdom of Caelestiam.
On board with them was their King, Mathias Andouin I, accompanied by his personal fireteam, Paladin Crew Kingsguard. He sat silently, clad in full T-14 armor, loosely holding in his hand several dogtags by their chains, staring somberly at the embossed tags. Each one had belonged to a different Paladin, someone that he had known personally. He set the tags down in his left hand, sifting through each one. The entirety of Stormgarde Crew had lost their lives in the campaign in the Socialist Global Union.
What Mathias had seen there, what had been done there, would be burned into his memory forever. The SGU, run by artificial intelligences and ruled with a staunch belief in moral nihilism, had committed unspeakable atrocities against prisoners of war, using them in sickening experiments. Seeing their own human population as nothing more than obsolete, biochemical computers, the "Overseer" had no qualms with using nuclear weapons on its own people. Perhaps more citizens had lost their lives at the hands of their leaders than by the invaders they were trying to stop.
Aintisar
Thromvul M.
Pal-Cap
B Neg (Dwf)
Catholic
For as long as he had been looking at these tags, Mathias couldn't help but feel a sting in his heart every time he saw that name. A long-time close friend, Thromvul had a fire in his heart that burned for his team and for his people; as the leader of his squad, he had thrown his life away in a berserk charge as soon as he saw that his last squadmate had fallen. Mathias, unable to aid him from his position, watched him die - With a sawn-off Benelli M4 and a sword, the dwarf had taken at least ten Union infantrymen with him before he succumbed to his wounds, his armor having been obliterated by high caliber rounds fired from heavy gunners. Seeing his charge, the previously retreating Caspian forces rallied behind his sacrifice, pushing forward once again. Though the battle was costly, Lanzhou had been won that day.
He read the names of the other tags once again. Anselmo Neyra, Hadrianna Ismene, Raul Cristescu, Rúna Nolsøe, Hugin Kielberg. Some tags were in decent condition, others battered, stained, and/or caked in rust. One, Raul's by process of elimination, was melted and twisted beyond legibility. All Stormgarde. These were by no means the only tags left from fallen Paladins, but none of the many Crews had been completely eradicated. Few were as prestigious or as old as Stormgarde, besides. Mathias's hand curled around the tags, and he shook his head somberly. That so many people perished under his command, on his orders, was something he could never wash away.
He recalled how naive he had once been, how fond of war he was when his odds were stacked high against his enemies in Anchorwatt. An ultraconservative nation of mostly moronic hillbillies, they put up fair resistance, but were horribly underequipped and lacked a proper strategy to defend against Caelestiam and fellow League member-state Zaurell.
How different he had become when deployed into the Socialist Global Union. Having seen war, having witnessed death, and having known what atrocities the Third Solution had planned for his people, his naivety had fallen away, replaced with something much... darker. Destroying the SGU had to be done, for the sake of countless millions of innocent lives. And yet, Mathias felt deep shame for the way he conducted himself in that campaign. Violent, vengeful, arrogant, and brutal, he had set his mind on one track, determined to destroy the Overseer, and anyone AI or otherwise that colluded with it.
While the Fascistisk States were less advanced and nowhere close to as barbaric as the Socialist Global Union or Anchorwatt (indeed, they were perhaps the most honourable opponent in this war), they had put up the greatest fight. Most victories the Caspian League had achieved were ostensibly pyrrhic, costing massive casualties. Hell, it was a miracle that they could be considered victories at all. By the time Oslo had come under fire, Mathias had mellowed out, and he had been able to effectively command a siege of the city. Stockholm fell shortly after, followed by Uhræskt.
"Psst. Mathias?"
His contemplation was cut short by the voice of a Paladin. Haruchi Yoshida, a Hanbukitsune and scout for the Yasukiyo's Revenant Paladin Crew, approached the King, taking a seat beside him. "Yoshida," he replied. The two had been close friends since childhood - if anyone was going to get him to talk, it'd be him.
"Still thinking about them?" Yoshida replied, reaching for his helmet. With a quiet series of beeps and a hiss of air, his helmet slipped off. Setting it down in the chair next to him, the vulpine Paladin continued, scratching his snout. "I miss them too, Math. And I'll be honest, I'm not sure how to best word this... but they're heroes. Every last one of them. Friends, as well. I doubt any of them would blame you for what's happened this past year," he said.
"They may not be quick to point the blame for their deaths to me," Mathias replied, holding the tags aloft and letting them dangle from their chains, "But this was my war. My hunt for honor and glory, and my desire to display my Kingdom's might before the world led to this League's creation - the Third Solution was a reactionary inevitability." Yoshida frowned at this, and leaned closer with the intent to reply. Mathias continued before he could speak. "The Mathias at the beginning of this war would agree with you. It wasn't his fault, it was the fault of the Third Solution for interfering. The Mathias in the Socialist Global Union would have agreed with you. It wasn't his fault, it was the SGU and their plans for genocide. The Fascistisk could be negotiated with, the Overseer was the greatest threat to Caelestiam, and it had to die," he said, now looking back at Yoshida.
Yoshida was, in fact, going to attempt to tell Mathias that he was not to blame for the war. Curious, he lifted a brow and asked in reply, "What does this Mathias think, then?"
Stealing another glance at the dog tags, the King put them away and spoke. "I take responsibility for my war, Yoshida," he said, pausing briefly. "I know not whether history will remember me as a just ruler, or if it will think of Nieldun Gildedtongue and I as the second coming of Benito Mussolini and Adolf Hitler." He stopped to chuckle softly, shaking his head. "Now, Nieldun would probably welcome the comparison to Mussolini," he said, "As for my own legacy? My people are safe, our enemies defeated. That is all I need to know."
Yoshida leaned back in his seat, thinking over what Mathias had said. He tilted his head in the King's direction and replied, "I doubt your legacy would be that tarnished, given what Anchorwatt, SGU were doing, and what the Hydraic Empire had wanted to do up in the interstellar front."
"Stockholm?" replied Mathias. More specifically, he had recalled a tragedy incurred during Battle of Stockholm, when the Ministry of Peace building had been shelled with artillery. Refugees escaping the Caspian advance had hunkered down in the building. The League was only aware that the building was acting as command center for the city's defense forces, not that it was housing civilians. Regardless, that had severely blemished the League's record for not committing atrocities, and would likely serve as the focal point of all future debates looking back on this war.
"They're gonna have to rebrand Stockholm Syndrome for that one, aren't they?" Yoshida retorted. An angry, sideways glance from Mathias took him aback, and he held his hands up submissively. "Ok, ok, too soon. Just... trying to make light of it all."
Mathias allowed himself to smirk, though he was thinking of something else entirely - a better way to lighten the mood. "You always were the clown of the group," he said. "Back in '96 when we were twelve..."
"Oh kami no," Yoshida said, giving Mathias a faux-concerned glance.
"You, Willam, and Silvana captured this wild goose from the castle lake, and let it loose in the courtyard as Bill Clinton was meeting with my father..."
Yoshida started laughing, struggling to keep his voice down for the sake of the other soldiers on the plane. "I remember that, it singled out Hillary and started chasing her around the courtyard until the guards could wrangle it?"
"You know she cited that against me during the American election season?" Mathias chuckled.
"Oh, we were such little shits back then."
The King's smile faded slightly. "How we've changed since then."
The Paladin patted his shoulder comfortingly and looked around the transport's cargo bay. "I won't dispute that. But at the very least, we're still friends. We're still here..."
Mathias sighed in response, "That we are. Though I wish that the others were here to see our victory."
"Perhaps, in a strange way, they were here with us, cheering us on from the beyond?"
"Perhaps."
There was a brief silence as Yoshida leaned back in his seat. Suddenly, he lurched forward, an inquisitive finger raised. "What ever happened to Silvana Devereux, if you know?" He chuckled at his unintended rhyme and awaited the King's reply.
The question required a long moment of thought, after which Mathias answered, "I believe... she went into medical? Became a nurse if I'm not mistaken?"
"Haven't heard from her recently?" Yoshida asked.
Mathias shook his head, "No, I haven't. Why do you ask?"
Yoshida grinned, staring up at the ceiling of the cargo bay. "I was mulling over the idea that maybe we should throw a party. A Veni Vidi Vici Victory Ball. Invite all the goddamned heroes who made our continued survival possible, leave it open to some world leaders to come drop in and meet the League. We can invite our old Merde-Tete Quartet for a reunion..."
Mathias let out a sputtering burst of laughter, attempting to rein himself in as quickly as possible. "Ah, excuse your French," he quipped.
"We'll all bring dates, have a merry time... I can bring Alesan..." Yoshida continued, his gaze shifting to a fellow Paladin, a human currently asleep on a makeshift cot on the other side of the cargo bay.
"I'm happy you met him to be honest," said Mathias, "Maybe now you'll stop hitting on Willam and I." Mathias had known for years that Yoshida was gay, and while he was completely supportive of his friend, he wasn't above the occasional jibe.
"I do not hit on you two!" Yoshida laughed, feigning betrayal.
"Oh come now, you had the biggest crush on me when we were teens," Mathias fired back.
Yoshida replied with a sigh, defeated smile, and a "little bit" gesture. "Whatever. I don't do it now, and I won't do it in the future; I know you've got a lady waiting for you back home."
Mathias nodded and said, "Thank you." Yoshida paused for another moment, before chuckling for seemingly no reason. "I'm sorry?" said Mathias.
"I know you're straight and all, but I never imagined you were a chubby chaser with scale-itch," said Yoshida, letting out a brief guffaw. "You're somehow even more of a faggot than I am, and I bottom."
The sound of metal striking metal resonated throughout the cargo bay.
"Alright, alright," Yoshida laughed, rubbing his shoulder, inspecting the pauldron for damage. "As long as you're happy."
Mathias returned the smile, leaning back and taking a deep breath. "Thanks for the talk, Yoshi," he said, "I suppose I should be getting some rest, though, I've got a lot to do when we land..." he closed his eyes and reached for his helmet, which had been sitting beside him in the other adjacent seat. Slipping it on, silence fell upon his ears, and his visor darkened.
Without another word, Yoshida stood, saluted his friend and King, and left him be.
The Caspian League had formed with the intent of slowing the rise of cruel and totalitarian states and defeating those that already existed. In its formation it had originally sought to pressure reform in the state of Zeanobia, a twisted and politically inconsistent communist state that permitted the exploitation of children. What the League did not anticipate was the rise of a coalition known as the Third Solution, which sought to conquer, assimilate, and slaughter those caught in their sights and those who stood in their path. The war had been bloody and hard fought - so much death in so little time, but with the defeat of the Fascistisk States at the Battle of Uhræskt mere days ago, peace, even if a tenuous one, reigned again.
Save for the sound of the engines, the flight from Uhræskt was nearly silent. Within the transport aircraft, most soldiers either slept, or quietly occupied themselves with some activity or another. They had lived to see the end of a lightning war, and were now most fortunate to finally be heading home to the Kingdom of Caelestiam.
On board with them was their King, Mathias Andouin I, accompanied by his personal fireteam, Paladin Crew Kingsguard. He sat silently, clad in full T-14 armor, loosely holding in his hand several dogtags by their chains, staring somberly at the embossed tags. Each one had belonged to a different Paladin, someone that he had known personally. He set the tags down in his left hand, sifting through each one. The entirety of Stormgarde Crew had lost their lives in the campaign in the Socialist Global Union.
What Mathias had seen there, what had been done there, would be burned into his memory forever. The SGU, run by artificial intelligences and ruled with a staunch belief in moral nihilism, had committed unspeakable atrocities against prisoners of war, using them in sickening experiments. Seeing their own human population as nothing more than obsolete, biochemical computers, the "Overseer" had no qualms with using nuclear weapons on its own people. Perhaps more citizens had lost their lives at the hands of their leaders than by the invaders they were trying to stop.
Aintisar
Thromvul M.
Pal-Cap
B Neg (Dwf)
Catholic
For as long as he had been looking at these tags, Mathias couldn't help but feel a sting in his heart every time he saw that name. A long-time close friend, Thromvul had a fire in his heart that burned for his team and for his people; as the leader of his squad, he had thrown his life away in a berserk charge as soon as he saw that his last squadmate had fallen. Mathias, unable to aid him from his position, watched him die - With a sawn-off Benelli M4 and a sword, the dwarf had taken at least ten Union infantrymen with him before he succumbed to his wounds, his armor having been obliterated by high caliber rounds fired from heavy gunners. Seeing his charge, the previously retreating Caspian forces rallied behind his sacrifice, pushing forward once again. Though the battle was costly, Lanzhou had been won that day.
He read the names of the other tags once again. Anselmo Neyra, Hadrianna Ismene, Raul Cristescu, Rúna Nolsøe, Hugin Kielberg. Some tags were in decent condition, others battered, stained, and/or caked in rust. One, Raul's by process of elimination, was melted and twisted beyond legibility. All Stormgarde. These were by no means the only tags left from fallen Paladins, but none of the many Crews had been completely eradicated. Few were as prestigious or as old as Stormgarde, besides. Mathias's hand curled around the tags, and he shook his head somberly. That so many people perished under his command, on his orders, was something he could never wash away.
He recalled how naive he had once been, how fond of war he was when his odds were stacked high against his enemies in Anchorwatt. An ultraconservative nation of mostly moronic hillbillies, they put up fair resistance, but were horribly underequipped and lacked a proper strategy to defend against Caelestiam and fellow League member-state Zaurell.
How different he had become when deployed into the Socialist Global Union. Having seen war, having witnessed death, and having known what atrocities the Third Solution had planned for his people, his naivety had fallen away, replaced with something much... darker. Destroying the SGU had to be done, for the sake of countless millions of innocent lives. And yet, Mathias felt deep shame for the way he conducted himself in that campaign. Violent, vengeful, arrogant, and brutal, he had set his mind on one track, determined to destroy the Overseer, and anyone AI or otherwise that colluded with it.
While the Fascistisk States were less advanced and nowhere close to as barbaric as the Socialist Global Union or Anchorwatt (indeed, they were perhaps the most honourable opponent in this war), they had put up the greatest fight. Most victories the Caspian League had achieved were ostensibly pyrrhic, costing massive casualties. Hell, it was a miracle that they could be considered victories at all. By the time Oslo had come under fire, Mathias had mellowed out, and he had been able to effectively command a siege of the city. Stockholm fell shortly after, followed by Uhræskt.
"Psst. Mathias?"
His contemplation was cut short by the voice of a Paladin. Haruchi Yoshida, a Hanbukitsune and scout for the Yasukiyo's Revenant Paladin Crew, approached the King, taking a seat beside him. "Yoshida," he replied. The two had been close friends since childhood - if anyone was going to get him to talk, it'd be him.
"Still thinking about them?" Yoshida replied, reaching for his helmet. With a quiet series of beeps and a hiss of air, his helmet slipped off. Setting it down in the chair next to him, the vulpine Paladin continued, scratching his snout. "I miss them too, Math. And I'll be honest, I'm not sure how to best word this... but they're heroes. Every last one of them. Friends, as well. I doubt any of them would blame you for what's happened this past year," he said.
"They may not be quick to point the blame for their deaths to me," Mathias replied, holding the tags aloft and letting them dangle from their chains, "But this was my war. My hunt for honor and glory, and my desire to display my Kingdom's might before the world led to this League's creation - the Third Solution was a reactionary inevitability." Yoshida frowned at this, and leaned closer with the intent to reply. Mathias continued before he could speak. "The Mathias at the beginning of this war would agree with you. It wasn't his fault, it was the fault of the Third Solution for interfering. The Mathias in the Socialist Global Union would have agreed with you. It wasn't his fault, it was the SGU and their plans for genocide. The Fascistisk could be negotiated with, the Overseer was the greatest threat to Caelestiam, and it had to die," he said, now looking back at Yoshida.
Yoshida was, in fact, going to attempt to tell Mathias that he was not to blame for the war. Curious, he lifted a brow and asked in reply, "What does this Mathias think, then?"
Stealing another glance at the dog tags, the King put them away and spoke. "I take responsibility for my war, Yoshida," he said, pausing briefly. "I know not whether history will remember me as a just ruler, or if it will think of Nieldun Gildedtongue and I as the second coming of Benito Mussolini and Adolf Hitler." He stopped to chuckle softly, shaking his head. "Now, Nieldun would probably welcome the comparison to Mussolini," he said, "As for my own legacy? My people are safe, our enemies defeated. That is all I need to know."
Yoshida leaned back in his seat, thinking over what Mathias had said. He tilted his head in the King's direction and replied, "I doubt your legacy would be that tarnished, given what Anchorwatt, SGU were doing, and what the Hydraic Empire had wanted to do up in the interstellar front."
"Stockholm?" replied Mathias. More specifically, he had recalled a tragedy incurred during Battle of Stockholm, when the Ministry of Peace building had been shelled with artillery. Refugees escaping the Caspian advance had hunkered down in the building. The League was only aware that the building was acting as command center for the city's defense forces, not that it was housing civilians. Regardless, that had severely blemished the League's record for not committing atrocities, and would likely serve as the focal point of all future debates looking back on this war.
"They're gonna have to rebrand Stockholm Syndrome for that one, aren't they?" Yoshida retorted. An angry, sideways glance from Mathias took him aback, and he held his hands up submissively. "Ok, ok, too soon. Just... trying to make light of it all."
Mathias allowed himself to smirk, though he was thinking of something else entirely - a better way to lighten the mood. "You always were the clown of the group," he said. "Back in '96 when we were twelve..."
"Oh kami no," Yoshida said, giving Mathias a faux-concerned glance.
"You, Willam, and Silvana captured this wild goose from the castle lake, and let it loose in the courtyard as Bill Clinton was meeting with my father..."
Yoshida started laughing, struggling to keep his voice down for the sake of the other soldiers on the plane. "I remember that, it singled out Hillary and started chasing her around the courtyard until the guards could wrangle it?"
"You know she cited that against me during the American election season?" Mathias chuckled.
"Oh, we were such little shits back then."
The King's smile faded slightly. "How we've changed since then."
The Paladin patted his shoulder comfortingly and looked around the transport's cargo bay. "I won't dispute that. But at the very least, we're still friends. We're still here..."
Mathias sighed in response, "That we are. Though I wish that the others were here to see our victory."
"Perhaps, in a strange way, they were here with us, cheering us on from the beyond?"
"Perhaps."
There was a brief silence as Yoshida leaned back in his seat. Suddenly, he lurched forward, an inquisitive finger raised. "What ever happened to Silvana Devereux, if you know?" He chuckled at his unintended rhyme and awaited the King's reply.
The question required a long moment of thought, after which Mathias answered, "I believe... she went into medical? Became a nurse if I'm not mistaken?"
"Haven't heard from her recently?" Yoshida asked.
Mathias shook his head, "No, I haven't. Why do you ask?"
Yoshida grinned, staring up at the ceiling of the cargo bay. "I was mulling over the idea that maybe we should throw a party. A Veni Vidi Vici Victory Ball. Invite all the goddamned heroes who made our continued survival possible, leave it open to some world leaders to come drop in and meet the League. We can invite our old Merde-Tete Quartet for a reunion..."
Mathias let out a sputtering burst of laughter, attempting to rein himself in as quickly as possible. "Ah, excuse your French," he quipped.
"We'll all bring dates, have a merry time... I can bring Alesan..." Yoshida continued, his gaze shifting to a fellow Paladin, a human currently asleep on a makeshift cot on the other side of the cargo bay.
"I'm happy you met him to be honest," said Mathias, "Maybe now you'll stop hitting on Willam and I." Mathias had known for years that Yoshida was gay, and while he was completely supportive of his friend, he wasn't above the occasional jibe.
"I do not hit on you two!" Yoshida laughed, feigning betrayal.
"Oh come now, you had the biggest crush on me when we were teens," Mathias fired back.
Yoshida replied with a sigh, defeated smile, and a "little bit" gesture. "Whatever. I don't do it now, and I won't do it in the future; I know you've got a lady waiting for you back home."
Mathias nodded and said, "Thank you." Yoshida paused for another moment, before chuckling for seemingly no reason. "I'm sorry?" said Mathias.
"I know you're straight and all, but I never imagined you were a chubby chaser with scale-itch," said Yoshida, letting out a brief guffaw. "You're somehow even more of a faggot than I am, and I bottom."
The sound of metal striking metal resonated throughout the cargo bay.
"Alright, alright," Yoshida laughed, rubbing his shoulder, inspecting the pauldron for damage. "As long as you're happy."
Mathias returned the smile, leaning back and taking a deep breath. "Thanks for the talk, Yoshi," he said, "I suppose I should be getting some rest, though, I've got a lot to do when we land..." he closed his eyes and reached for his helmet, which had been sitting beside him in the other adjacent seat. Slipping it on, silence fell upon his ears, and his visor darkened.
Without another word, Yoshida stood, saluted his friend and King, and left him be.
Lucinte-Varias International Airport, March 6th, 2017
The time was approximately 7:30am when the transport plane touched down at Lucinte-Varias. Though many of the soldiers within it were exhausted, they were awake and eager to finally see home again. The loading ramp lowered, sunlight flooding the cargo bay. Led by their King and his squad, the soldiers, marines, and Paladins onboard stepped down onto the asphalt runway.
They were greeted by the sight of rows of soldiers and Paladins, all saluting the return of their King and his warriors. Some broke from formation to assist the disembarking men and women in carrying cargo out of the plane, and others moved to surround the King, escorting him and the Kingsguard from the runway into the airport.
"Your Majesty!" called the voice of a young woman, a Forest Elf in full business attire. A government employee, likely. She caught up to the King and walked alongside his escort, trying to keep his attention. Upon examining the young elf for any weapons, the soldiers let her through to speak with the King. "Your Majesty, welcome home. The Council is waiting for you at the terminal." She holds up a clipboard with several documents attached, flipping through each one. "As you may be experiencing jet lag, the Council has given you the rest of the day free, Your Majesty."
That sounded like it led to a huge "but."
"However, the rest of the week are filled with scheduled events." And there it was. Mathias let out a subtle sigh, turning his full attention towards this secretary.
"Proceed?" he replied.
"Tuesday: A State of the Kingdom Address and Press Conference regarding the end of what journalists are now calling the Caspian War.
Wednesday: The selected bodies of unidentified Caelestian soldiers from each front of the war are to be enshrined in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Solas National Cemetery. You, Ministress DuQieng, and Minister Alistan Malique will be presiding over the ceremony and wake.
Thursday: Harbinger DuQieng wishes to hold a meeting to discuss the occupation policy for Sweden.
Friday: American President Donald Trump has scheduled a visit to the Citadel - he wishes to congratulate you on the victory.
Saturday: There will be a Victory Parade starting at the outskirts of New Caelestiam City, into the Old City and ending at the Citadel.
Sunday: Minister Alistan Malique, Imam Safar al-Nazir, Elder Xuan Luoyang, High Pujari Ganesh Mitra, and Kannushi Matsudaira Norikata will be holding a special Mass in the Magna Vinculum Cathedral for survivors of the war and their families."
"Email me the schedule, I'll check it over later tonight," Mathias replied, "Thank you."
"Yes milord," said the secretary, and she departed, off to see to further business.
Mathias and the other homebound warriors were taken into the airport and guided to the customs station, where they set to work removing their armor, dropping off their weapons and equipment, and donning their uniforms, fatigues, or casual clothes brought in for them beforehand. Some soldiers worked more quickly than others, and once out of their armor and into more comfortable clothes, set off for the terminal.
As Mathias removed his helmet, Kazimah DuQieng, his Ministress of Defense and Harbinger of the Royal Armed Forces, walked over and removed her helmet as well. "Your Majesty," she addressed, setting her helmet on a nearby metal table.
"Kazi."
"Finally home," Kazimah said, entering a code into her left gauntlet's TacPad. A few seconds later, segments of her armor folded back, exposing her back. She carefully stepped out of the suit of power armor and called for customs officials, who worked to move the suit for transport back to the Citadel. "Need help with the armor?" she inquired, stepping closer to Mathias.
"I've got it, thank you," came the curt reply as Mathias inputted his own code into his TacPad. His armor opened up, and he stepped out, twisting and stretching as soon as he was out. "So, eager to return to normalcy?"
Kazimah smiled, rubbing her neck for a brief moment. "You bet your crown," she replied, "Though, I don't think we'll be back to normalcy for a while." As Kazimah began removing her skinsuit, Mathias called for his clothes - a simple set including a white tee, black longcoat, and a pair of trousers to match the coat. Upon receiving the outfit from a customs official, he opted to put them on over his skinsuit, rather than remove it first. Kazimah cocked an eyebrow and looked the King over, "Worried about something?" she asked. Given the skinsuit acted as a thin suit of bulletproof armor itself, there was little reason for Mathias to continue wearing it in public. On home soil, no less.
"I just can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, that we aren't done yet," he replied.
"What are y-"
Kazimah was interrupted by the sounds of people cheering. The first soldiers had reached the terminal, presumably greeted by civilians and family members.
"We'll discuss this later," Mathias said, a grin spreading across his face. "We've got people waiting for us."
With that, Kazimah finished donning her dress uniform and followed Mathias down the hall towards the terminal. They arrived just behind another wave of soldiers - as they approached the end of the hall, two customs officials opened the doors, happily ushering the soldiers through.
Sure enough, awaiting the returning heroes was a crowd of civilians. The din of applauding friends and family filled the air, soldiers ran to their families, embracing their cheering, laughing, and crying spouses and children. The jubilation was palpable, almost overwhelming.
And then Mathias and Kazimah stepped into the terminal, into the full light of day shining down through the glass ceilings. It had been loud before, but at first sight of their King and Harbinger, a thundering ovation exploded from the crowd.
"I wouldn't worry about the history books demonizing you," Kazimah quipped, nudging Mathias's shoulder.
"At least not in this country. Don't know about most of Eur-oh!" Mathias began. Before he could finish, he suddenly found himself in a surprise embrace.
Staggering back, he took a quick look at the person who had crashed into him; a young dragoness with sky blue scales and long, black, wavy "hair" (while more pycnofiber filaments than truly human hair, the texture was quite similar). Though the hair had been a light purple the last time Mathias had seen the dragoness, he recognized her instantly as Sophitia Larane. Laughing along with her, Mathias took hold of her, his arms slipping around her plump figure to lift her up and twirl her around. Setting her back down, he opened his mouth to speak, but upon seeing a group of familiar faces behind Sophitia, he fell silent.
In front of him stood the Ministers and Ministresses of his Council of Lords. They all stood, applauding Mathias and Sophitia's reunion. Notably, the Minister of Education, Hjorzian Kamuzu - a short, burly dwarf - was holding up a sign that was comically oversized for him, with the text "All Hail the Return of the King!"
Fucking dork.
Smirking at the heartwarming display before him, Mathias noticed another small person, this one notably more human - a child standing by the legs of Minister of Commerce, Pascien Ulfonse. Felix Magnusson, his name was. Prior to the War, he was a Fascistisk child whose parents were killed by special forces - he had been rescued by the first refugees to arrive in Caelestiam, and had effectively been adopted by Sophitia, whom the boy seemed to adore.
"Welcome back, Your Majesty. As promised, we took good care of everything, everyone you left on the homefront," said Hjorzian, finally putting the damn sign down.
His sister, Ministress Iola Kamuzu, approached the child beside Pascien and laid a hand on his shoulder - an easy feat, as she and Hjorzian were only slightly taller than the six year old - and whispered something to him in Swedish.
Felix smiled and ran to the now crouching Mathias and Sophitia, jumping up into their arms, to the delight of the audience that had gathered around them - divided from them by a line of soldiers.. "Hey, buddy," Mathias said, patting the boy's back. He and Sophitia released him. "Did you take care of Sophitia while I was away?" he asked.
Felix nodded vigorously. He was not a talkative boy, but Mathias was certain that there was an energy to him that was not there when they last saw each other. "Felix was a little angel," Sophitia replied, hugging Felix again. This time, she lifted him up to carry him, and turned to face Mathias. She was positively beaming with excitement as she said, "Words can't describe how happy I am to see you again."
Mathias returned the smile and nodded. "I love you too." To Felix, he reached to ruffle the boy's hair affectionately and added, "I'm proud of you, kiddo."
"Come on, Papa Bear, let's head back to the Citadel, there'll be plenty of opportunity to make up for lost time once we're home," Kazimah said, punching Mathias's shoulder and walking off to rejoin the Council. Her fellow Ministers and Ministresses greeted her with open arms, a sort of group hug briefly forming.
Mathias, rolling his eyes at Kazimah's comment, gently took the dragoness's hand, kissing the back of it as he led her through the airport, now accompanied by the Council and their escort. For a moment, his eyes were glued to her silky hair, curious as to the change in color. "So, you did a little something different?" he asked, his other hand ruffling his own dark brown hair.
"Got rid of the dye," she replied, giving Mathias a sly, sideways look. "What you see is natural. Do you like it? I could always try something else."
"No, no. You look gorgeous as ever," said Mathias, throwing an arm around Sophitia's waist.
"Black hair it is then," came the reply.
There was a moment of silence as they continued through the terminal, broken by Ministress Iola. "So now that you've returned, Your Majesty," she said suddenly, drawing the King's attention, "The Council had for a while been deliberating on whether or not we should have some sort of celebration in honor of our victory over the Third Solution."
"Of what sort? Private dinner? Tea ceremony with the other national leaders of the League?" Mathias asked. "Something brief, I imagine?"
"With the combined effort of the League, we decisively annihilated twisted versions of China, the United States, Germany, and a fascist Kalmar Union, Your Highness. All of whom were more advanced than their true counterparts. With all due respect, you're thinking small when you have every right to think grand!" said Kazimah. "I myself missed this meeting, Iola. Have you decided on anything in particular?"
Minister Pascien answered, leaning towards Kazimah with an enthusiastic grin. "A banquet. A Royal Ball, as the Monarchs of Old used to have," he said, "We'll invite leaders from the League and extend it to leaders the world over. With the way the economy has been booming from the war, we can afford to spare no expense when it comes to food and entertainment for our honoured guests," he added, chopping at the air with a flat hand.
Mathias's smile faded as approval spread through his entourage. Kazimah wistfully smiled and laughed in reply. "Oh, I remember the Gala your grandfather threw when World War II ended in Europe," she said, a wave of nostalgia washing over her.
"That's a lovely idea!" Sophitia said, adjusting her hold on Felix. "It'd be an excellent way to simmer down from all this fighting and connect with your fellow sovereigns."
Mathias shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. "Paladin Haruchi Yoshida mentioned the same idea to me on the plane from Scandinavia. I don't think we should spend our time on such an arrogant display when there's work to be done," he replied.
"What? This is perhaps one of our nation's greatest victories!" Iola replied, shocked by the King's statement.
"I agree with His Majesty," said the Minister of Faith, a middle-aged human by the name of Alistan Malique, "we should be humble in victory, and prioritize stabilizing the Fascistisk States. Their honourable conduct musn't go unnoticed, and we have an obligation to repay the favour."
"Thank you, Your Holiness," Mathias replied, nodding in solidarity.
"We can invite the Chancellor, let her bring her entourage. It would be good to show that we wish to extend an olive branch," said Pascien.
"We besieged her homeland and killed her brother, Pascien, do you truly think that a party in honour of her conquerors is going to smooth that over?" said Mathias, thoroughly appalled by the man's apparent apathy. He stopped in his tracks, eyes set on the Minister of Commerce. The escort froze as well, in the middle of the terminal's center.
Looking about nervously, Pascien cleared his throat and straightened his tie. "No sir. I suppose not."
"And do you think that they would appreciate us spending money - earned as a result of the economic boom brought by the very war in which the aforementioned offenses had occurred - on boasting of our victories instead of using it to aid them? That would be an olive branch, helping them pick up the pieces!"
"Was it not you yourself who denounced the 'bomb and rebuild' strategy so frequently used by nations further west when warring with the Middle East?" Kazimah asked. "Were we to help them in reconstruction, would they not simply seek to antagonize us again?"
"The Fascistisk States are not like the war-torn Islamic wastelands led by fools who put blind faith before common sense, Kazimah. They know well enough not to subject themselves to another gruelling war in the name of spite."
"Then invite those who are willing to come, let them see that we mean peace, that we wish to help them, that we have no intention to force them to change, as they surely would have done to us had they been the victors," said Iola.
"It's as though you don't recall the dream you had the week before the War..." Kazimah muttered.
"...dream? What dream, Mathias?" asked Sophitia, cocking an eyebrow.
Mathias ran his hands up and down his face, taking a deep breath. "I can explain later... for now I suppose Iola is correct."
"My Lord," said Alistan, attempting to interject.
"No, it's alright. Perhaps I'm being paranoid. A good Ball is what the Kingdom needs to settle down. I'll have invitations written and sent by the morrow."
Upon hearing this, the soldiers gathered as escort to the Council and King burst into applause, now eager for the coming festivities. With this, the escort resumed its journey out of the terminal.
The time was approximately 7:30am when the transport plane touched down at Lucinte-Varias. Though many of the soldiers within it were exhausted, they were awake and eager to finally see home again. The loading ramp lowered, sunlight flooding the cargo bay. Led by their King and his squad, the soldiers, marines, and Paladins onboard stepped down onto the asphalt runway.
They were greeted by the sight of rows of soldiers and Paladins, all saluting the return of their King and his warriors. Some broke from formation to assist the disembarking men and women in carrying cargo out of the plane, and others moved to surround the King, escorting him and the Kingsguard from the runway into the airport.
"Your Majesty!" called the voice of a young woman, a Forest Elf in full business attire. A government employee, likely. She caught up to the King and walked alongside his escort, trying to keep his attention. Upon examining the young elf for any weapons, the soldiers let her through to speak with the King. "Your Majesty, welcome home. The Council is waiting for you at the terminal." She holds up a clipboard with several documents attached, flipping through each one. "As you may be experiencing jet lag, the Council has given you the rest of the day free, Your Majesty."
That sounded like it led to a huge "but."
"However, the rest of the week are filled with scheduled events." And there it was. Mathias let out a subtle sigh, turning his full attention towards this secretary.
"Proceed?" he replied.
"Tuesday: A State of the Kingdom Address and Press Conference regarding the end of what journalists are now calling the Caspian War.
Wednesday: The selected bodies of unidentified Caelestian soldiers from each front of the war are to be enshrined in the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Solas National Cemetery. You, Ministress DuQieng, and Minister Alistan Malique will be presiding over the ceremony and wake.
Thursday: Harbinger DuQieng wishes to hold a meeting to discuss the occupation policy for Sweden.
Friday: American President Donald Trump has scheduled a visit to the Citadel - he wishes to congratulate you on the victory.
Saturday: There will be a Victory Parade starting at the outskirts of New Caelestiam City, into the Old City and ending at the Citadel.
Sunday: Minister Alistan Malique, Imam Safar al-Nazir, Elder Xuan Luoyang, High Pujari Ganesh Mitra, and Kannushi Matsudaira Norikata will be holding a special Mass in the Magna Vinculum Cathedral for survivors of the war and their families."
"Email me the schedule, I'll check it over later tonight," Mathias replied, "Thank you."
"Yes milord," said the secretary, and she departed, off to see to further business.
Mathias and the other homebound warriors were taken into the airport and guided to the customs station, where they set to work removing their armor, dropping off their weapons and equipment, and donning their uniforms, fatigues, or casual clothes brought in for them beforehand. Some soldiers worked more quickly than others, and once out of their armor and into more comfortable clothes, set off for the terminal.
As Mathias removed his helmet, Kazimah DuQieng, his Ministress of Defense and Harbinger of the Royal Armed Forces, walked over and removed her helmet as well. "Your Majesty," she addressed, setting her helmet on a nearby metal table.
"Kazi."
"Finally home," Kazimah said, entering a code into her left gauntlet's TacPad. A few seconds later, segments of her armor folded back, exposing her back. She carefully stepped out of the suit of power armor and called for customs officials, who worked to move the suit for transport back to the Citadel. "Need help with the armor?" she inquired, stepping closer to Mathias.
"I've got it, thank you," came the curt reply as Mathias inputted his own code into his TacPad. His armor opened up, and he stepped out, twisting and stretching as soon as he was out. "So, eager to return to normalcy?"
Kazimah smiled, rubbing her neck for a brief moment. "You bet your crown," she replied, "Though, I don't think we'll be back to normalcy for a while." As Kazimah began removing her skinsuit, Mathias called for his clothes - a simple set including a white tee, black longcoat, and a pair of trousers to match the coat. Upon receiving the outfit from a customs official, he opted to put them on over his skinsuit, rather than remove it first. Kazimah cocked an eyebrow and looked the King over, "Worried about something?" she asked. Given the skinsuit acted as a thin suit of bulletproof armor itself, there was little reason for Mathias to continue wearing it in public. On home soil, no less.
"I just can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, that we aren't done yet," he replied.
"What are y-"
Kazimah was interrupted by the sounds of people cheering. The first soldiers had reached the terminal, presumably greeted by civilians and family members.
"We'll discuss this later," Mathias said, a grin spreading across his face. "We've got people waiting for us."
With that, Kazimah finished donning her dress uniform and followed Mathias down the hall towards the terminal. They arrived just behind another wave of soldiers - as they approached the end of the hall, two customs officials opened the doors, happily ushering the soldiers through.
Sure enough, awaiting the returning heroes was a crowd of civilians. The din of applauding friends and family filled the air, soldiers ran to their families, embracing their cheering, laughing, and crying spouses and children. The jubilation was palpable, almost overwhelming.
And then Mathias and Kazimah stepped into the terminal, into the full light of day shining down through the glass ceilings. It had been loud before, but at first sight of their King and Harbinger, a thundering ovation exploded from the crowd.
"I wouldn't worry about the history books demonizing you," Kazimah quipped, nudging Mathias's shoulder.
"At least not in this country. Don't know about most of Eur-oh!" Mathias began. Before he could finish, he suddenly found himself in a surprise embrace.
Staggering back, he took a quick look at the person who had crashed into him; a young dragoness with sky blue scales and long, black, wavy "hair" (while more pycnofiber filaments than truly human hair, the texture was quite similar). Though the hair had been a light purple the last time Mathias had seen the dragoness, he recognized her instantly as Sophitia Larane. Laughing along with her, Mathias took hold of her, his arms slipping around her plump figure to lift her up and twirl her around. Setting her back down, he opened his mouth to speak, but upon seeing a group of familiar faces behind Sophitia, he fell silent.
In front of him stood the Ministers and Ministresses of his Council of Lords. They all stood, applauding Mathias and Sophitia's reunion. Notably, the Minister of Education, Hjorzian Kamuzu - a short, burly dwarf - was holding up a sign that was comically oversized for him, with the text "All Hail the Return of the King!"
Fucking dork.
Smirking at the heartwarming display before him, Mathias noticed another small person, this one notably more human - a child standing by the legs of Minister of Commerce, Pascien Ulfonse. Felix Magnusson, his name was. Prior to the War, he was a Fascistisk child whose parents were killed by special forces - he had been rescued by the first refugees to arrive in Caelestiam, and had effectively been adopted by Sophitia, whom the boy seemed to adore.
"Welcome back, Your Majesty. As promised, we took good care of everything, everyone you left on the homefront," said Hjorzian, finally putting the damn sign down.
His sister, Ministress Iola Kamuzu, approached the child beside Pascien and laid a hand on his shoulder - an easy feat, as she and Hjorzian were only slightly taller than the six year old - and whispered something to him in Swedish.
Felix smiled and ran to the now crouching Mathias and Sophitia, jumping up into their arms, to the delight of the audience that had gathered around them - divided from them by a line of soldiers.. "Hey, buddy," Mathias said, patting the boy's back. He and Sophitia released him. "Did you take care of Sophitia while I was away?" he asked.
Felix nodded vigorously. He was not a talkative boy, but Mathias was certain that there was an energy to him that was not there when they last saw each other. "Felix was a little angel," Sophitia replied, hugging Felix again. This time, she lifted him up to carry him, and turned to face Mathias. She was positively beaming with excitement as she said, "Words can't describe how happy I am to see you again."
Mathias returned the smile and nodded. "I love you too." To Felix, he reached to ruffle the boy's hair affectionately and added, "I'm proud of you, kiddo."
"Come on, Papa Bear, let's head back to the Citadel, there'll be plenty of opportunity to make up for lost time once we're home," Kazimah said, punching Mathias's shoulder and walking off to rejoin the Council. Her fellow Ministers and Ministresses greeted her with open arms, a sort of group hug briefly forming.
Mathias, rolling his eyes at Kazimah's comment, gently took the dragoness's hand, kissing the back of it as he led her through the airport, now accompanied by the Council and their escort. For a moment, his eyes were glued to her silky hair, curious as to the change in color. "So, you did a little something different?" he asked, his other hand ruffling his own dark brown hair.
"Got rid of the dye," she replied, giving Mathias a sly, sideways look. "What you see is natural. Do you like it? I could always try something else."
"No, no. You look gorgeous as ever," said Mathias, throwing an arm around Sophitia's waist.
"Black hair it is then," came the reply.
There was a moment of silence as they continued through the terminal, broken by Ministress Iola. "So now that you've returned, Your Majesty," she said suddenly, drawing the King's attention, "The Council had for a while been deliberating on whether or not we should have some sort of celebration in honor of our victory over the Third Solution."
"Of what sort? Private dinner? Tea ceremony with the other national leaders of the League?" Mathias asked. "Something brief, I imagine?"
"With the combined effort of the League, we decisively annihilated twisted versions of China, the United States, Germany, and a fascist Kalmar Union, Your Highness. All of whom were more advanced than their true counterparts. With all due respect, you're thinking small when you have every right to think grand!" said Kazimah. "I myself missed this meeting, Iola. Have you decided on anything in particular?"
Minister Pascien answered, leaning towards Kazimah with an enthusiastic grin. "A banquet. A Royal Ball, as the Monarchs of Old used to have," he said, "We'll invite leaders from the League and extend it to leaders the world over. With the way the economy has been booming from the war, we can afford to spare no expense when it comes to food and entertainment for our honoured guests," he added, chopping at the air with a flat hand.
Mathias's smile faded as approval spread through his entourage. Kazimah wistfully smiled and laughed in reply. "Oh, I remember the Gala your grandfather threw when World War II ended in Europe," she said, a wave of nostalgia washing over her.
"That's a lovely idea!" Sophitia said, adjusting her hold on Felix. "It'd be an excellent way to simmer down from all this fighting and connect with your fellow sovereigns."
Mathias shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. "Paladin Haruchi Yoshida mentioned the same idea to me on the plane from Scandinavia. I don't think we should spend our time on such an arrogant display when there's work to be done," he replied.
"What? This is perhaps one of our nation's greatest victories!" Iola replied, shocked by the King's statement.
"I agree with His Majesty," said the Minister of Faith, a middle-aged human by the name of Alistan Malique, "we should be humble in victory, and prioritize stabilizing the Fascistisk States. Their honourable conduct musn't go unnoticed, and we have an obligation to repay the favour."
"Thank you, Your Holiness," Mathias replied, nodding in solidarity.
"We can invite the Chancellor, let her bring her entourage. It would be good to show that we wish to extend an olive branch," said Pascien.
"We besieged her homeland and killed her brother, Pascien, do you truly think that a party in honour of her conquerors is going to smooth that over?" said Mathias, thoroughly appalled by the man's apparent apathy. He stopped in his tracks, eyes set on the Minister of Commerce. The escort froze as well, in the middle of the terminal's center.
Looking about nervously, Pascien cleared his throat and straightened his tie. "No sir. I suppose not."
"And do you think that they would appreciate us spending money - earned as a result of the economic boom brought by the very war in which the aforementioned offenses had occurred - on boasting of our victories instead of using it to aid them? That would be an olive branch, helping them pick up the pieces!"
"Was it not you yourself who denounced the 'bomb and rebuild' strategy so frequently used by nations further west when warring with the Middle East?" Kazimah asked. "Were we to help them in reconstruction, would they not simply seek to antagonize us again?"
"The Fascistisk States are not like the war-torn Islamic wastelands led by fools who put blind faith before common sense, Kazimah. They know well enough not to subject themselves to another gruelling war in the name of spite."
"Then invite those who are willing to come, let them see that we mean peace, that we wish to help them, that we have no intention to force them to change, as they surely would have done to us had they been the victors," said Iola.
"It's as though you don't recall the dream you had the week before the War..." Kazimah muttered.
"...dream? What dream, Mathias?" asked Sophitia, cocking an eyebrow.
Mathias ran his hands up and down his face, taking a deep breath. "I can explain later... for now I suppose Iola is correct."
"My Lord," said Alistan, attempting to interject.
"No, it's alright. Perhaps I'm being paranoid. A good Ball is what the Kingdom needs to settle down. I'll have invitations written and sent by the morrow."
Upon hearing this, the soldiers gathered as escort to the Council and King burst into applause, now eager for the coming festivities. With this, the escort resumed its journey out of the terminal.
The Citadel, March 20th, 2017
"Darling?"
Mathias awoke with a jolt. He looked down to find that he had fallen asleep at his desk, with a disheveled array of files, documents, and writing utensils scattered about the mahogany surface. The antique clock just above the sliding doors to his study clearly read "11:50pm." He had been hammering away at the task of handling state business for the past two weeks, whether it be at this very desk or out on errands. He looked up at the source of the voice that had awakened him, the baggy, dark circles around his eyes clearly visible.
Sophitia stood over him, nursing a steaming mug of coffee. She gently set it down in front of Mathias, giving him a concerned look. Mathias let out a deep breath, stretching his arms and back. "Thank you, love," he said, picking up the mug.
As he gently blew on the black liquid, Sophitia walked around the desk and sat down on the edge, reaching to place a hand on Mathias's shoulder. "Mathias, you're sure you don't want to take a break, get some rest?"
Mathias took a light sip from the mug, eyes shifting to look up at Sophitia. Setting the mug down, he shook his head. "I deeply appreciate your concern, but I can't afford to take breaks. Not right now."
"You've been to two press conferences, three military funerals, one of which was in Zaurell, several meetings with world leaders and the Council of Lords, and five interviews. And that was last week," Sophitia replied. Her hand slid from his shoulder to cup his cheek. "You look awful... you need sleep," she added, frowning sadly as she examined the signs of fatigue.
Mathias placed a hand on hers, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. "I understand, but I can't do that, Soph," he said, removing her hand from his cheek. "In Scandinavia alone there is an open rebellion, and in Sweden, a crime wave has been plaguing the cities. On top of this, I've a party to help plan. One that no doubt has the attention of the rest of the Western world," he continued. "The UN has been breathing down my neck, they want to investigate the League and try us all for war crimes!"
"We put down three genocidal superstates in one war, what does the U.N. want with you?"
"Zaurell."
"Ah."
Mathias took another, longer sup of coffee, now noticing a distinct hint of sugar. He began to rearrange the documents and folders he had accidentally scattered about the desk, thumbing through each one to check for any organizational tags - dates, subjects, stamps - and setting them back where they were before. He froze for a moment and looked up at Sophitia, locking eyes with her. She was clearly distressed, her expression the picture of anxiety. He let out a long sigh, looking about his desk. "Alright," he said, restoring eye contact, "I'll pen these invitations, and I'll come join you in bed?" he suggested.
Sophitia slowly smiled. She leaned over to give Mathias a short kiss on the forehead. "Alright, love," she said. As she went to take her leave and as Mathias reached for the mug of coffee, Sophitia intercepted him, picking it up and taking it with her. "Oh no," she said, smirking at the King, "You're waking up to your circadian rhythm. I love you, hon." With that, she left the study, closing the sliding doors behind her.
Mathias sat frozen, still reached out halfway towards the now absent mug, mouth slightly agape. Slowly, he cocked his head and gestured towards the doors. He laughed to himself, retrieving his quill pen and a stack of paper from inside his desk. Clicking the pen, he set to work on his letters of invitation
"Darling?"
Mathias awoke with a jolt. He looked down to find that he had fallen asleep at his desk, with a disheveled array of files, documents, and writing utensils scattered about the mahogany surface. The antique clock just above the sliding doors to his study clearly read "11:50pm." He had been hammering away at the task of handling state business for the past two weeks, whether it be at this very desk or out on errands. He looked up at the source of the voice that had awakened him, the baggy, dark circles around his eyes clearly visible.
Sophitia stood over him, nursing a steaming mug of coffee. She gently set it down in front of Mathias, giving him a concerned look. Mathias let out a deep breath, stretching his arms and back. "Thank you, love," he said, picking up the mug.
As he gently blew on the black liquid, Sophitia walked around the desk and sat down on the edge, reaching to place a hand on Mathias's shoulder. "Mathias, you're sure you don't want to take a break, get some rest?"
Mathias took a light sip from the mug, eyes shifting to look up at Sophitia. Setting the mug down, he shook his head. "I deeply appreciate your concern, but I can't afford to take breaks. Not right now."
"You've been to two press conferences, three military funerals, one of which was in Zaurell, several meetings with world leaders and the Council of Lords, and five interviews. And that was last week," Sophitia replied. Her hand slid from his shoulder to cup his cheek. "You look awful... you need sleep," she added, frowning sadly as she examined the signs of fatigue.
Mathias placed a hand on hers, his thumb gently stroking the back of her hand. "I understand, but I can't do that, Soph," he said, removing her hand from his cheek. "In Scandinavia alone there is an open rebellion, and in Sweden, a crime wave has been plaguing the cities. On top of this, I've a party to help plan. One that no doubt has the attention of the rest of the Western world," he continued. "The UN has been breathing down my neck, they want to investigate the League and try us all for war crimes!"
"We put down three genocidal superstates in one war, what does the U.N. want with you?"
"Zaurell."
"Ah."
Mathias took another, longer sup of coffee, now noticing a distinct hint of sugar. He began to rearrange the documents and folders he had accidentally scattered about the desk, thumbing through each one to check for any organizational tags - dates, subjects, stamps - and setting them back where they were before. He froze for a moment and looked up at Sophitia, locking eyes with her. She was clearly distressed, her expression the picture of anxiety. He let out a long sigh, looking about his desk. "Alright," he said, restoring eye contact, "I'll pen these invitations, and I'll come join you in bed?" he suggested.
Sophitia slowly smiled. She leaned over to give Mathias a short kiss on the forehead. "Alright, love," she said. As she went to take her leave and as Mathias reached for the mug of coffee, Sophitia intercepted him, picking it up and taking it with her. "Oh no," she said, smirking at the King, "You're waking up to your circadian rhythm. I love you, hon." With that, she left the study, closing the sliding doors behind her.
Mathias sat frozen, still reached out halfway towards the now absent mug, mouth slightly agape. Slowly, he cocked his head and gestured towards the doors. He laughed to himself, retrieving his quill pen and a stack of paper from inside his desk. Clicking the pen, he set to work on his letters of invitation
My Honoured Friend, Zaurellian Emperor Nieldun Gildedtongue,
Salutations, friend. It's been a while since we've last spoken! Recently, I've met with the Council - the majority of them have agreed that they wish to hold a Royal Ball in honour of our victory over the Third Solution. Though it was not my idea, I eventually decided that perhaps it would be for the best that we wind down from the War and relax. Therefore, it felt appropriate that you be the first to receive a formal invitation to the Citadel.
The Victory Ball will be open to all national leaders who seek to attend - we expect the other members of the League will attend, and the event would be an excellent opportunity to invite additional nation-states to join the League. We'll be serving food from all over the League; if it interests you, you may come early to aid in preparing food and entertainment to represent Zaurell.
I hope to receive a response soon.
Sincerely,
~King Mathias Andouin I of Caelestiam.
To the High Senator of New Aerios,
I am pleased to announce that Caelestiam will be hosting a Victory Ball to celebrate the Third Solution's defeat at the hands of our Caspian League. In honor of your contributions to the war effort, you are formally invited to attend as a Guest of Honor. If it interests you, you may contribute to the banquet spread and entertainment arrangements in order to best represent Aerion culture, as the Ball is open for attendance by any world leaders who wish to introduce themselves to the League.
I hope to receive a response from you soon.
Sincerely,
~King Mathias Andouin I of Caelestiam.
To the Morally Ambiguous Overlord of the Tyronian Socialist State.
To celebrate our combined victory over the Third Solution, Caelestiam will be hosting a Royal Victory Ball in the Citadel. In honor of your contributions towards the War Effort, you are formally invited to attend as a Guest of Honor. If it interests you, you may contribute to the banquet spread and entertainment arrangements in order to best represent Tyronian culture, as the Ball is open for attendance by any world leaders who wish to introduce themselves to the League.
I hope to receive a response from you soon.
Sincerely,
King Mathias Andouin I of Caelestiam.
To the Honourable Fascistisk Chancellor Rakel Trygstad,
I hope this letter finds you in good health, though it was written and sent with much deliberation on my part. Given the state of current affairs, I find it best to give you your space, but an occasion has come up in which it becomes ostensibly appropriate to contact you.
I am aware that there is an open rebellion occurring in the Fascistisk States, and that the State of Sweden is currently experiencing a wave of crime. SHINOBI has been monitoring the situation, and has unearthed startling revelations as to the nature of these movements and their activities. While I cannot disclose the details in this letter, I am confident that these activities pose an existential threat to us all.
I want the bloodshed to end. I yearn for our peoples to have peace again. This cannot be accomplished as long as the Rebellion and criminal organizations continue their operations. I wish to help you end this Rebellion as quickly and as nonlethally as possible. As for the criminal organizations you needn't lift a finger - I will have this mafia depopulated if I have to send in Terrorsbane themselves.
This brings me to the next subject that requires attention. Caelestiam and, presumably by extension the Caspian League, will be hosting a Royal Ball in the Citadel to celebrate victory in the War. This was not my idea, I assure you - both the Council and Sophitia agreed it would be good for morale.
I wanted to invite you. I know that as arrogant and tasteless as this Ball is at this time, it is the perfect opportunity to meet you in person in a secure environment and discuss the matters put forth in this letter.
I understand entirely if you do not wish to attend - it would not be considered an insult if you refused and I thoroughly respect your wishes. Should you accept this invitation, I wish to make this as comfortable as possible. Come dressed in whatever formal attire you prefer, dress or uniform. Attached is a menu of the banquet spread - feel free to request any additions.
I hope to hear from you soon.
With Utmost Sincerety,
~Mathias.
The Citadel, April 15th 2017
For what felt like the first time in ages, the Citadel was once again bustling with festive activity. Servants to the King rushed about the stone halls. Stewards examined the décor: royal blue banners and ribbons were hung throughout the Citadel's many corridors and chambers, accompanied by fully lit chandeliers and ambient electric lighting. Not much had to be done, at least in newer sections of the Citadel; painted on many of the walls were beautiful frescoes, tapestries, and stained glass windows telling various stories about Caelestiam's history through imagery. In general, the Citadel's vast interior was the essence of monarchist opulence, calling to mind the shining white and gold palaces of 18th Century Europe.
Within and without the walls of the Citadel, Caelestian soldiers patrolled, moving into their assigned positions to keep watch over the palace and those coming and going. The gates, at the moment closed, had a checkpoint of at least six soldiers standing watch on the old drawbridge. The Courtyard - a gorgeous space brimming with magnificent flora from around the world which were now coming into bloom with the spring, furnished with marble fountains, statues, and benches, and kept immaculate by groundskeeper - was marred only by the sight of soldiers fervently patrolling the grounds.
It was the interior of the Citadel that was most active and most altered for the grand occasion, however. Luxurious carpets of royal blue fabric were rolled out in a manner that would best guide guests through the halls to places where celebration was occurring - namely the concert hall and the ballroom.
The Atria dul Melodia was the Citadel's concert hall, an awe-inspiring, three-floored chamber with gilded balustrades, columns, and fittings along the ceiling - most notably around a massive fresco depicting a legendary scene: The Warrior-Poet, a dwarf known to Caelestians as the Maharishiren, pens a composition on parchment glowing gold. From the parchment springs the rest of the fresco; an angelic orchestra playing in a heavenly environment. Royal blue velvet seats could be seen along the rows in front of the stage on the first floor of the hall, while white velvet chairs could be seen in the more elegant booths in the balcony sections on the higher floors.
The Ballroom was an exquisite, rectangular chamber with rib-vaulted ceilings and two floors, the second being composed of two long interior balconies on either side of the ballroom, built on colonnades. In the center of the ballroom, on the first level, was a large, gold carpet with blue trim and floral patterns throughout. It would be here that most of the evening's activities would be. The end of the ballroom parallel to the front entrance was a concave wall, topped with a vaulted dome, with seven, tall, wide windows that provided an exceptional view of Caelestiam City's shining skyline. The banners of Caspian League nations hung from the top halves of four of the windows: the Solar Rose of Caelestiam and the Crossed Blades of Zaurell in the middle, and the Eagle of New Aerios and the Narwhal of the Tyronian Socialist States on either side. Along the pillars of the colonnades, a speaker system was set up and ready for use. There was a door under each balcony leading out of the Ballroom, with both having a nearby staircase leading up and back in, onto the balconies. It was on both balconies that plush sofas and tables had been placed, providing a lounging area for those who did not wish to dance, and clothed tables were set off to the side, to be loaded with many trays of food and drink in the creation of the banquet spread.
As 6:00 PM approached, the servants made their final touches. Guards positioned on the walls made their way to the Citadel Gate, and after the sound of ceremonial fanfare...
The Gate had opened, the Ball had begun.
For what felt like the first time in ages, the Citadel was once again bustling with festive activity. Servants to the King rushed about the stone halls. Stewards examined the décor: royal blue banners and ribbons were hung throughout the Citadel's many corridors and chambers, accompanied by fully lit chandeliers and ambient electric lighting. Not much had to be done, at least in newer sections of the Citadel; painted on many of the walls were beautiful frescoes, tapestries, and stained glass windows telling various stories about Caelestiam's history through imagery. In general, the Citadel's vast interior was the essence of monarchist opulence, calling to mind the shining white and gold palaces of 18th Century Europe.
Within and without the walls of the Citadel, Caelestian soldiers patrolled, moving into their assigned positions to keep watch over the palace and those coming and going. The gates, at the moment closed, had a checkpoint of at least six soldiers standing watch on the old drawbridge. The Courtyard - a gorgeous space brimming with magnificent flora from around the world which were now coming into bloom with the spring, furnished with marble fountains, statues, and benches, and kept immaculate by groundskeeper - was marred only by the sight of soldiers fervently patrolling the grounds.
It was the interior of the Citadel that was most active and most altered for the grand occasion, however. Luxurious carpets of royal blue fabric were rolled out in a manner that would best guide guests through the halls to places where celebration was occurring - namely the concert hall and the ballroom.
The Atria dul Melodia was the Citadel's concert hall, an awe-inspiring, three-floored chamber with gilded balustrades, columns, and fittings along the ceiling - most notably around a massive fresco depicting a legendary scene: The Warrior-Poet, a dwarf known to Caelestians as the Maharishiren, pens a composition on parchment glowing gold. From the parchment springs the rest of the fresco; an angelic orchestra playing in a heavenly environment. Royal blue velvet seats could be seen along the rows in front of the stage on the first floor of the hall, while white velvet chairs could be seen in the more elegant booths in the balcony sections on the higher floors.
The Ballroom was an exquisite, rectangular chamber with rib-vaulted ceilings and two floors, the second being composed of two long interior balconies on either side of the ballroom, built on colonnades. In the center of the ballroom, on the first level, was a large, gold carpet with blue trim and floral patterns throughout. It would be here that most of the evening's activities would be. The end of the ballroom parallel to the front entrance was a concave wall, topped with a vaulted dome, with seven, tall, wide windows that provided an exceptional view of Caelestiam City's shining skyline. The banners of Caspian League nations hung from the top halves of four of the windows: the Solar Rose of Caelestiam and the Crossed Blades of Zaurell in the middle, and the Eagle of New Aerios and the Narwhal of the Tyronian Socialist States on either side. Along the pillars of the colonnades, a speaker system was set up and ready for use. There was a door under each balcony leading out of the Ballroom, with both having a nearby staircase leading up and back in, onto the balconies. It was on both balconies that plush sofas and tables had been placed, providing a lounging area for those who did not wish to dance, and clothed tables were set off to the side, to be loaded with many trays of food and drink in the creation of the banquet spread.
As 6:00 PM approached, the servants made their final touches. Guards positioned on the walls made their way to the Citadel Gate, and after the sound of ceremonial fanfare...
The Gate had opened, the Ball had begun.
