Tengoku no Yoru [CLOSED|ORDIS ONLY]

by **Kolintha** » Sun Apr 30, 2017 8:25 pm

Tengoku no Yoru
天国の夜

The Kingdom of Heaven on Earth
Henceforth the The Great State of Our Ancestors
Will See All Earth Submit
And Rejoice In Prosperity
May It Last For As Long as the Stars Burn

The late evening mist crept silently over the light-starved forest floor, it’s milky tendrils dancing over roots and rolling through the shrubbery. From above, it seemed to flood the valley, like a ghostly river gushing over it’s banks. Indeed, it’s airy form to a lone traveller; a peasant farmer, or perhaps a hunter, it may have appeared as some spirit, come to deliver curses or blessings upon a hapless earth dweller.

But there were no lone travellers in the valley that night. And yet, it was far from empty either. Somewhere, deep in the crawling fog, one could hear a peculiar sound. A beat. Deep and distant. The sound of wood pounding against stretched leather. And as it came closer, slowly but surely outpacing the advancing mist, it was accompanied by another noise - a muffled crash, like waves beating on a rocky shore.

Or hooves on a stony hillside.

Soon, the riders themselves came into view. First the flames of their torches, then the looming shadows of their steeds. Twenty, then a hundred, then a thousand of them thundered out through the fog and into the clear night.
At the very head of the formation - a rough arrow of horsemen, trailed by a long tail of wagons a few hundred metres behind - was a tightly packed triangle of four; three guards in ornate, bronze armour, colourful plumes streaming from their ornate helms, which masked their faces from the nose upwards. They rode on the outside of the triangle, and between them, was their treasured charge: a young woman, herself dressed only in simple silken nightclothes, yet with a long curved blade, tucked into an unusually ornate scabbard - decorated with delicate engravings and silver - swinging at her hip, crudely strapped to her waist with a frayed length of rope. She lacked even so much as a helmet; her short hair instead flew freely behind her, like the plumes of her retainers.

She was not at first glance of any noble birth; she lacked the distinctive scarred faces of the subjugated mountain kings, or the bare heads of the elegant ladies of the once great city states of the ancient plains. But a certain quality seemed to shine clearly in her as she rode alongside her men that night. A renewed sense of danger, but also, a fire of determination which burned in her grey almond eyes. Some would later say a divine fire.

Suddenly, she barked an order as she saw open air at last through the foliage before her, and like automatons, the horsemen slowed to a canter, and then to a stop, in a matter of seconds, the officers spreading the message rapidly backwards through their own shouts.
The lady dismounted, to the initial indignation of her frontmost guardian, but with a steely glare she waved him off. Handing the reigns of her steed to an approaching steward, she sauntered forward towards the end of the treeline.

It was, as expected, a rocky cliff face; here, the forested valley in the shadows of the two northern-southern mountains gave way to narrow, stony paths zigzagging down into the foothills at perilous angles, leading into a second valley, far broader than the first. From her perch at the top of the western Valley wall, the woman could just about see the shadow of the mountains that formed the eastern wall.

And between them, was her destination. A sprawling grid of homes, temples and an impressive complex of palaces - Lrakh’Urima; or Rakuma in her tongue. The Eternal City. It was different now then when she had first set eyes upon it however ... now, it’s narrow streets and elegant boulevards were lit by tongues of orange flame and from it a great pillar of smoke extended into the darkest reaches of the heavens. The observer smiled with pride. Her work was done before she had even arrived. Now it was time for the final act; the declaration. Satisfied, she turned briskly and marched back to her anxiously waiting forces. Immediately, she gave the order to ride.

By morning, the country would be hers.

White Palace Central Tenshu
6th of May, 2017. Morning.

Ego’s eyes snapped open and her body jolted upwards in panic as a great roar powered through the walls and windows of her bed chamber. For a few seconds, her mind was hazy as she tried to process what was happening; then came the sound once more; a dull explosion which echoed through stone-constructed lower wings of the palace and caused her to jump a second time. But it also served to clear her thoughts. Suddenly, she understood it’s source, and she sighed at the implications it carried.

Stretching lazily and noisily cracking the joints in her thin wrists, the Crown Princess flopped backwards onto her pillow; it was a fine luxury brand, filled with feathers. While her head rested on it, the rest of her body felt almost weightless. It took only a short time for her eyes to drift shut once more; but she would get no peace. For fresh thoughts had now begun to float intrusively into her mind. She was awake, whether she liked it or not.

Groaning, she rolled onto her side and placed her hands together. Today was National Foundation day; for many in the Empire, that meant celebration - dances, festivals, horse races and music. But for members of the Imperial Family, it was a day of ritual and quiet meditation, interspersed with brief - but always tiresome - visits from nobility. Ego, of course, had been brought up by the women of the Household as a model royal and had been carefully groomed for the laborious duties that were her birthright, as the successor to her Grandfather Skavaru - but that had not stopped her from cultivating a private loathing endless vapid chatter of the lower aristocracy.

Alas, no peace for the wicked.

As she moved to sit up, the Imperial cannons went off once more, but this time she was not fazed - this was the first ritual of the day; the Kaminari, meaning thunder, was an established tradition of the Imperial Household; on the 15th of february every year, from dawn til midday, the White Palace - the main compound of the almost city-sized Celestial palace, would fire off it's antique guns in two volleys every hour. It was a practice introduced by an ancestor, as a commemoration of Kolish unification and the dawn of the warring states that preceded it - symbolic of the many sieges of the Imperial Capital undertaken by regional warlords during that period, and the fierce resistance against them.

It was however, not the 15th of February. This had been the current Emperor's idea; for this year was not any ordinary national foundation day. Rather, it was the 2600th, if the official histories were to be believed. It called for additional commemoration. Additional rituals and in truth, additional everything: from fireworks to an enormous banquet and ball.

The Crown Princess stood at last with another groan of effort, looking around her bedchamber; it was typical of the lower levels of White Palace, a single angular stone wall, covered with white plaster, and with several wooden screens built into it, which allowed a small amount of light to penetrate, at daytime placing the room in a permanent sort of twilight. As for the other walls, they were made from cloth, stretched across wooden frames; each one was decorated with colourful historical and mythical scenes from legends Ego had grown up having drilled into her; given a minute, she was sure she could have named every one the roughly three hundred deities that appeared there.
The wooden planked floor was covering by twelve mats, of varying sizes and the only furniture was the imposing four poster bed, a bedside table housing a lamp and a small pile of novels, and at the very end of the room, a wardrobe five metres, taking up almost the entire opposite wall.

As Ego was about to make her way over to the latter item herself, the door slid open to reveal one of the Household servants. A young man - or boy really. He bowed low as he realized she had already awoken.
“Good morning, Shi.” The Princess said, answering with a simple nod of acknowledgement. Shisu had been appointed as her personal attendant in the court roughly 8 months ago, at a tender age of 16, a good two or three years younger than the average. Apparently, he had shown considerable distinction in the service of one of the Imperial Concubines, and had been recommended for the post as a result. Ego had appreciated the decision; he was a calm, calculating kid, perhaps even better adapted for the absurdities of Palace life than herself. He had always been good for the reporting of gossip.

“Good morning, Your Imperial Highness.” He finally replied, “Did you rest well?”
Ego yawned. “I’m afraid not, no, with the Kaminari and so on. Today is the big day, yes?” Shi nodded.
“I’m sorry to say it is, which means you will have to be dressed, Your Imperial Highness.”
The Princess nodded as she retrieved from the wardrobe a hairbrush and returned to sit on the bed where she began the tedious process of cot removal. “Would you care to go through the timetable, Shi?”
“Certainly, Your Imperial Highness.” With lightning speed, the young servant produced a portable computer from his robes and after a few taps of the screen began to go down the list. “0630 Breakfast In the Hall of Plenty with Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress Consort; His Imperial Majesty will not be attending, as he was called at around 4 am for an important meeting with the Marshal of State, and will be then be meeting with High Priestess Akame at the Grand Shrine.”
“A meeting with the Marshal of State - regarding the policy matter at Tuesday’s meeting?” She was curious what the Iron Lady had to discuss with Grandfather so early that morning.
“I am not privy to that information, Your Imperial Highness.” Shisu insisted, “But if I may speak freely, I feel it is something in regards to the clans, moreso than policy. The envoy sent was from the Uesoga estate, not the office of the State Marshal.” He coughed awkwardly, eager to get off the subject, “Anyhow, 0700 Morning Service at the aforementioned Grand Shrine, after which you will meet and take tea with the High Priestess Akame and His Imperial Majesty. 0740 You will visit the Imperial Cemetery and perform sacrificial duties. 0800 You will return to the Palace, where you will take your morning bath and change into your public ritual robes…”

Ego audibly groaned at the latter point, as she crossed the room once more to return the hairbrush and opened another wardrobe door; this one held a mirror, and in it she critically inspected the smoothness of her skin and the shape of her eyebrows; when satisfied, she clicked her fingers and raised her arms outwards. “Shi, assistance if you please.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.” The boy servant answered obediently, and immediately got to work on untying the simple cotton obi that held in place the rest of the Crown Princess’ silk sleeping gown. As it came loose, he folded it and placed it aside, and then carefully, as if he were handling a glass ornament, lifted the robe off his mistress’ body. Stoically, he circled her, looking for signs of petty injury or imperfection; it was part of the job. However, she was in overall good health - young, with an elegant, if not entirely womanly, frame. Her bodily curves were not particularly pronounced, and her shoulders were somewhat more squarish than those of her caretakers and late mother. But these were marks of beauty in the Kolish traditional mindset, as was her modest bust. She was, at least physically, the model of an urban aristocrat’s daughter, an archetype further enhanced by her ghostly pale, grey eyes, a trait she shared with her Grandfather - it was a relatively rare trait among northern pureblood Yezani, but heavily associated in myth with rulers and kings. Her previous attendant, Kaso, had theorized it may have stemmed from Transoxthraxian aristocrats marrying into the lower ranks of the Imperial Family and nobility during the centuries the Empire occupied Western Transoxthraxia.

Shisu continued working through the schedule from memory as he undressed and inspected her. “...1440 You will walk with the High Priestess and His Imperial Majesty off the grounds to the Garrison of the Palatial Guard. There you will meet with General Arakasa Mateni, Commander of the First Army in Vioska and Yuko Hashiba, Director of the Imperial Internal Inspectorate, before addressing a group of assembled Guardsmen. 1520 You will take tea alone with the General and the Director in the Imperial chambers of the Diet building. 1540 you will meet with the Marshal of State and at 1550 will give an address to the Diet following His Imperial Majesty. By 1700, you will return with the General and the Director; while they are kept entertained, you will change into appropriate evening wear, ready for the gala in the Hall of Lights at 1800.” He then looked up, “Which reminds me, Your Imperial Highness. You have yet to choose your attire from the samples provided by the tailor…”

“Oh, yes, I did say I was going to wait to see which I preferred.” In reality she had been trying to avoid the Imperial tailor; a brutish old Txarsaxhan woman who, while extremely talented in her craft and beloved by the Empress Consort, was notorious for her crude mannerisms and foul language among the often inhabitants of White Palace. “That can be sorted out when we get to it. Will there be anybody of particular note in attendance?”
Shisu, suppressing a sigh, began to mentally work through the guest list, while retrieving a relatively plain, though elegant, blue kimono and a broad black obi, with golden embroidery, from the wardrobe.
“A fair few, Your Imperial Majesty. Lady Uesoga politely declined the invitation citing matters of state, however her husband, the Count of Kutsuo plans to attend alongside his sister, the Duchess of Aroki.”
“Lady Zhutse is an admirable woman.” Ego commented, looking into the mirror as the servant’s delicate hands manoeuvred her arms into the long, hanging sleeves.
“She is well regarded in the Court, and I hear, by His Imperial Majesty. Besides them, there is the Lord Dazhkan and his wife, the Marquise of Ikka; of course the regional monarchs and despots; the General and the Director; oh, and of course the Duchess of Tezo, Lady Tagezhima.”
“Junior?” She inquired; referring to the daughter of the actual leader of the Tagezhima Clan, who carried out most actual leadership duties nowadays.
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness. Besides that, there are a couple of intriguing foreign dignitaries.”

That piqued Ego’s interest. As the Crown Princess, she was already familiar to some extent with the domestic elites that were expected to attend, but the Emperor had also specifically extended invitations to a large variety of foreign guests and diplomats. Some she was already aware of, but she had not had the opportunity to review them all. “Go on.” She urged.
He nodded as he folded the front of the kimono around her, pinned it, and then began to tie the obi from behind.
“Well, the envoy of the Nerotysian Communist Party - not entirely unexpected given it’s a diplomatic event, but he’ll be attending alongside the Chairman of the Nerotysian State Progress Committee, the latter’s son, and the Flaucese ambassador, a Mr. Gorasz, and the ambassador’s wife Julia.” He explained, “So there’s been a bit of a stir. Lot’s of conspiracy theories shooting round the Palace. Barring them, His Imperial Majesty also personally invited some royalty from the Akai Dituate; the Ditu himself, the Celestial Princess of the Blood Lillisi Lazin, the Dowager Dihei Tingzi Lazin and the Prince Regent Sanfu Lazin - if you’ll pardon my pronunciation, Your Imperial Highness.”

The Nerotysians were of no particular concern to the Crown Princess, but the decision to invite the Lazin was an odd one. Kolish-Akai relations were still frosty after decades of Imperial sanctions, originally aimed at the government of the current Ditu’s father. They had warmed somewhat in recent years, helped somewhat by the death of the Ditu and his replacement by a far less confrontational son and the reformist-minded Prince Regent. Nevertheless, trade was minimal. Relations existed, but the Akai embassy in Eito, and it’s Kolish counterpart in Xuanjing, were ran by skeleton crews.

“Thank you, Shi.” Ego said, as the boy finished tying the Obi - it was masterfully done, and in record time too. He bowed humbly. “What time do you make it?”
“6:25, if I have it right. And you are very welcome, Your Imperial Highness. Shall I escort you to the Hall of Plenty?”

White Palace Central Tenshu
6th of May, 2017. 5:30

“Ah, Hakaro! Good to see you.” Skavaru called as he saw a gentleman in his late 30s approach at a brisk pace from across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine white naval uniform.
“It has been a long time, father.” The man opened his bear-like arms for an embrace and the Emperor returned it with a chuckle. “How have you been?”

Skavaru smiled, “Well as Emperor, I can hardly complain. I’m surprised you came so early, frankly. Guests aren’t supposed to be arriving for another thirty minutes or so…”
“And miss the chance to catch up? Father, you dishonour my name.” Hakaro laughed back, following the Emperor as he began to make his last rounds around the main chamber, the ballroom, of the Hall of Lights - it was a very grand venue; built in the late 17th century as a separate wing of the existing Imperial Palace, originally for the purpose of rituals, but repurposed in the 19th century as a gathering place for the Kolish elite and foreign dignitaries. A number of colossal steel-braced wooden pillars held up a high ceiling adorned with hundreds of lights that flooded every corner of the otherwise traditionalist interior. The walls were, as with all rooms in the Imperial Palace, decorated with colourful illustrations of mythology, history, poetry and nature. On this occasion also, they had been adorned with enormous vertical dragon banners, spaced evenly around the edges of the hall.
Some of the hard stone floor at one end of the hall was occupied by a raised platform, featuring a cluster of imposing statues; past Emperors, including a particular one, the tallest of them all, depicting Ygova, the First Empress. The platform was typically used by the band. As for the rest of the floor, it was taken up by circular tables of 8, which were still being set and carried in by roaming servants. Table-free pockets were set aside throughout the hall, both for dancing and the typical milling around that tended to occur at such high society events.
There were a number of exits and entrances; the main one being linked to the tenshu of the Palace by an indoor walkway, while the others opened out into the thick artificial forest of the walled inner gardens, or onto little balconies behind sliding screens that overlooked the sloping sprawl of the Capitol Hill. If one were to stand there, in the distance, behind the elegant aristocratic manors and bureaucratic neighbourhoods separated by vast outer gardens and Jindo shrines, one could see the bright Eito skyline.

The pair talked as they circled, occasionally stopping while the Emperor answered the questions of (very nervous) servants or guardsmen, usually about seating arrangements or minor security considerations. Eventually, they returned to the main entrance.
“Well Father.” Hakaro said, stopping at the looming open doorway and bowing, “It has been pleasant; I think however I shall wait at the south gate now.”
“Ah.” The Emperor laughed, “Playing receptionist, are you? Well, I don’t mind. I have matters to attend to here, and preparations to make. Bowing in response, he turned to go. This was going to an interesting evening,

Soon, Hakaro was out of the Palace and waiting calmly on it’s steps; the towering facade of the old building above him, and it’s equally oversized gate in front of him, separated by a short, greenery-lined walkway. The first passengers began to arrive up the steep, exclusively private road to the White Palace, most of them Kolish socialites and minor nobles. The Prince was quick to greet them warmly.

by **Nerotysia** » Mon May 01, 2017 5:42 pm

Eito
6th May 2017
Recommended Listening

And the Motherland calls:
"Communists, forward!"
as the spirit of freedom strengthens us.
On the Peninsular winds, let's set sail
to a new life in Scarlet Nerotysia!

Karlo Cindrić could not help but tap his foot to Erneszt Gindl’s brassy old voice, humming softly from the speakers inside the limousine. The trumpets bleated and shouted like they were in a cartoon, the guitar was weaker than paper, and the rest of the lyrics remained firmly in the trenches of dork.

The Scarlet Army Boys had been an old man’s band in the nineties, and their unique brand of cheese (which they had called patriotism) had been out of fashion even before the song was released. Back in 1992, they had symbolized everything wrong with the Party administration - weak, hollow, and stuck in the past. But still the Party refused to let go.

“Are they ever going to let this song die?” Karlo said to man across from him. A circular ring of black leather wrapped around the walls, providing the seating, illuminated by soft white lighting embedded in the crevices. The man across had been gazing out a window, which were blackened to the outside world.

“Not now. Zsolnay’d be more inclined to make it the national anthem.” Nandor Szervánszky had a voice like his hairline; meek and receding. The man was twenty-nine.

“You know I actually met him for the first time before leaving. He was briefing me on the assignment.”

“How exciting. He’s a proper spy, that one.”

“He was polite enough. Not very friendly though.”

“Mhm.” Nandor had been dealing with the repercussions of Zsolnay’s election for nearly a month. Constant missives from Shynka, berating every aspect of his conduct, threatening to dismiss him, threatening his staff, threatening to close his office entirely, etcetera etcetera. One of Nandor’s favorites had been a message from the man himself, which had called him a ‘soft-bellied, weak-wristed Kol-loving faggot.’ He was creative, that Zsolnay.

“I’m glad he was polite to you. Fucking cocksucker has been hounding me since March. Thank christ Glasnović can block him from dismissing me.”

“She can?”

“Yes, the Unionists managed to push something through the Central Committee to keep him from fucking destroying our minimal foreign policy.”

“Have you been in contact with Milàs or Sofija? They should know what he’s doing.”

“Of course they know. I forwarded them some of his more - creative - messages. They can’t stand the Totalists - it’s Glasnović who’s courting them.”

“I can’t understand why teenagers are so attracted to them, frankly.” As he spoke, Karlo looked to the limousine’s third occupant, his seventeen-year-old son Zvonimir. His eyes were fixed out the window, ears enclosed by comically large headphones. “Even Zvonko defends the spies sometimes.”

“The kids don’t surprise me, it’s just the hip thing right now. It’s the adults like Glasnović. They should know better.”

“Maybe she just knows she needs them. That election was - erm - interesting.”

“No, I’ve gotten shit from her, too. Asking me to fucking ‘cooperate’ with comrade Zsolnay. Ridiculous.”

Karlo hummed in sympathy and looked out the window. “Well, my assignment went well, so hopefully he’ll back off a bit.”

Now, this was a far better topic than Zsolnay. “What was that about, by the way?” Nandor shifted forward with renewed interest. “My spy is in Zsolnay’s pocket, said it was ‘classified.’”

“It was regarding Kolish weapons development. Zsolnay only told me that they had ‘important information’ and that they wanted to give it directly to me.”

Nandor raised an eyebrow. “That seems stupid. And risky.”

Karlo shrugged. “I was told not to open it until I’m back in the peninsula. It’s in a sealed envelope, inside the safe in my room.”

“Why did they need to give it to you personally, though?”

“I don’t know. My suspicion is that they think there’s a leak in their network, and they didn’t want to risk passing it through the usual channels.”

“Ah. Probably an aftershock of Virnessr. They’ve been even more paranoid than normal recently.”

Karlo shrugged. “Well, Virnessr was compromised by something. Can’t blame them for doing their job.”

“Why not? Zsolnay certainly blames me for doing my job.”

Karlo chuckled as Nandor rested back in his seat. “I hope he doesn’t find out that I went to this ball with you. I don’t want to deal with dozens of emails of whining.”

Nandor laughed. “Hundreds, comrade. Hundreds. He has his aides send emails too.”

“Oh, good lord.”

Karlo Cindrić could not help but tap his foot waiting for his son. It was a rather irritating habit to have fallen into, for sure, but parenting without a partner had produced some new habits in Karlo.

“Zvonko, you knew we were approaching the palace. I told you before, just start turning your thing off before - ”

“I know, I know. I don’t like stopping songs in the middle.” His voice shrunk with each word, from normal volume to his usual quiet tone.

“Then stop early.” Karlo was going to say more, but stopped himself. It had been strange since the divorce.

The last line of security before the palace churned the Nerotysians through, a rather large delegation despite the relative scarcity of important figures. There were the Party men in their black vests, primarily Nandor, his chief of staff, and a few of his closest aides. There was the Cindrić men, as well as a few alternate members of the State Progress Committee, and Karlo’s chief of staff. Then there were the numerous inscrutable and ghostly officials from various obscure departments of the Nerotysian government, who carefully avoided being too familiar with a certain member of Nandor’s staff. The CCRC chief for Kolish operations, officially only an aide at the Party office, lingered near the back of the group. And then there was the dozen or so security men, all attached to different charges.

“Mr. Hakaro, hello! It’s been such a long time since we first met, unfortunately,” Nandor said in Kolish to their princely receptionist. Much of the rest of the Nerotysian troop hiked past Hakaro, but Karlo and his son eventually reached Nandor’s side.

“Ah, Mr. Szervánszky. The envoy, yes?” The two men shook hands, smiling, “Unfortunately the navy has kept me from dwelling often in the Capital.”

“Yes, I remember. You’re a military man. Tragic that your duties take you elsewhere, else I would make it my duty to converse with you more.” Nandor gestured to Karlo. “This is Karlo Cindrić, Chairman of the Nerotysian State Progress Committee. A man of science, highly respected in our country. And this is his son, Zvonimir.” The men shook hands. “They do not speak your great language, however.”

“Welcome, Chairman, and Master Zvonimir. It’s a pleasure you decided to attend; how long do you intend on staying here in Eito?” The Prince had switched to seamless Spanish, the only language that bridged the gap between Ordis’ divided worlds.

“Only a few more days, unfortunately - my position does not allow me much time away from home. I must say that your city is beautiful, it was a very worthwhile trip.”

“Well, a few days is plenty if you wish to sightsee. In any case, the Hall of Lights awaits, down this hall here.” He stepped back and gestured down the exterior corridor of the Palace. “If you require any further directions, don’t hesitate to ask the guardsmen or servants.”

“Many thanks.” The group hiked the rest of the way into the hall, Zvonimir drinking in the picturesque and monstrous palace. He let out a low whistle upon entering the Hall of Lights, swiveling his head every which way.

“This place is amazing. How old is it?”

“I’ve no idea, Zvonko. The Kols love their palaces, though.” The trio moved through the rapidly filling Hall, Karlo corralling his absent-minded teenager through the crowds.

“We should really find a table, dad.” Zvonimir had begun to twitch at the crowds.

“Nandor wants to talk with Skavaru first. Just wait.” Thankfully, he didn’t have long to wait.

“Ah, I believe he’s just about finished talking, Karlo.” They turned to greet the oncoming Emperor.

by **Greater Allidron** » Sat May 06, 2017 8:46 pm

{redacted}

by **Meriad** » Sun May 07, 2017 1:03 pm

Eito, Kolintha
May 6th, 2017

Compared to the motorades of the other world leaders present for the gala, the procession containing the Queen of Meriad was definitively modest. It consisted of only four vehicles, one of them the Kolish police cruiser that the Kolish security services had mandated lead the motorcade. Immediately behind the Kolish vehicle was a black SUV, which contained the queen's personal security detail of Royal Marines. Behind the SUV came the royal family's vehicle, a blue long wheel-base sedan with a pair of small Meriadni flags flying from the front bumper. Bringing up the rear of the motorcade was another black SUV, this one filled not with guards armed to the teeth and prepared for every contingency, but instead with the queen's personal staff and a number of reporters. As with most state visits, security was not a massive concern here; not enough people hated Meriad for it to be a significant issue.

While the bulletproof windows of the queen's sedan, which generally afforded protection from both firearms and unwanted cameras alike, offered a good view of the Kolish capital, the queen had insisted that they be left down for the trip through the city; she preferred her view of the seat of power of her country's eastern neighbor to be unobstructed. Even in May, the Kolish capital was chilly, and the queen stifled a shiver as she looked out the window at the buildings rolling past. While Crica had been queen for just over five months now, the formalities that accompanied the ascension of a new monarch were time-consuming, and she had not yet had a chance to visit Kolintha. In fact, this was only her second trip abroad since becoming queen, the only other being a four-day state visit to the Allid capital city of Kinansaari.

Her inexperience with nominally ruling the country, Queen Crica by no means lacked experience in dealing with foreign dignitaries; in her role as heir-apparent, which she held for over thirty years, she had grown quite accustomed to the exotic slate of formalities expected during state occasions, and had picked up an appreciable amount of Yezani and Allid as well. Now, as her motorcade approached the tempest of hovering diplomats and bureaucrats associated with state occasions, the 34-year-old monarch steeled herself for the unavoidable social vortex, and turned to the young man seated at her left.

"Kasper, they aren't expecting any form of congratulatory address from me, are they?"

Kasper Thorkelson, the queen's State Advisor, shook his head with a smile. "No, ma'am. We're just there to sit, observe, and look pretty."

"Well, that I can do," the young queen said with a smile. Her mind flashed back to Járnfjördur, where she had left the prince-consort and their two children. Despite the incessant badgering of her eldest child, the Crown Prince Martin, she had declined to bring any of her family on this occasion, truthfully telling them that, at least for the Meriadni delegation, there would be very little interesting foreign policy work to be conducted, and that the only activities would be geared primarily towards the delegations of other nations, particularly those with more frosty relations with the Kolish government. While Crica couldn't pass up the opportunity to see Kolinthia during the celebrations of its 2600th Founding Day, observing other cultures and customs had never been an enjoyable activity for any of the rest of her family. Therefore, Crica was alone in Kolintha.

Except for her motorcade, of course, which was now drawing to a halt outside of the White Palace. As soon as the wheels stopped, the doors of the front SUV opened and the four immaculately-dressed Royal Marines stepped from the vehicle, walking with precise and measured steps to the sedan that contained their charge. Two snapped to attention in front of the Kolith welcoming committee standing on the broad steps and saluted the dignitaries waiting there. The other two opened the rear doors for the Queen and her advisor, and then fell into step behind her as she greeted the Kolish representatives.

by **Escalan Corps-Star Island** » Sun May 14, 2017 2:03 pm

White Palace, Central Tenshu, Eito

6º de mayo, 2017; 19:15

The aging gentleman seated near one of the balconies wouldn't have drawn much attention from the passing eye. Pointed, grey beard offsetting equally grey eyes beneath a wrinkled brow, he watched the doorway of the hall carefully. Arturo de Maceras was no stranger to the White Palace; he made a habit of attending events whenever he could. It was, he reflected, one of the few pleasures that he still merited simply by virtue of his birth. Once, he'd have been bitter to watch the Kolish nobles that strutted and parroted about, but time had mellowed his temper.

He planned on speaking to the Emperor later in the celebrations; it'd been a while since he'd seen Skavaru and had a chance for a purely social exchange. He respected the Kolish monarch; the elite of the world could learn a great deal from his measured temperament and willingness to listen before judging. Were the attitude of the nobility less hasty and scornful, the institution might have survived in more places. De Maceras blamed that as much as the marzistas for his own fate and current residence in Eito.

Tonight was not a time to think of what could have been, however, but rather to think of what might be. Even as the Kolish celebrated their rich and exhaustingly long history, de Maceras was waiting for someone he had a hunch might arrive. The Emperor was stubborn in his own way, and this extended to inviting guests on the basis of respect, as opposed to merely making a political statement, as was so often the case. Heaven knows that explained his tolerance for de Maceras' presence around the palace.

"Esta noche veremos como los acuerdos sobre Gorzas han afectado las amistades que el Emperador quiere mantener públicamente." De Maceras spoke to the woman seated opposite him, who had occupied herself looking out towards the skyline. Several decades of life as an expatriate hadn't tempered her beauty or her passion: the once-duchess of Tarancón was an imposing and powerful woman.
"Si el carancho aparece, no será algo tan evidente. Probablemente no viene al evento principal. Él nunca ha gustado ser una figura tan visible en contextos más informales así," she remarked, not bothering to turn and survey the room alongside her companion.
"María Catalina, yo sé por supuesto que todavía le molesta la presencia de cualquier. . . ¿que es su palabra preferida para ellos? ¿Ladrón?"
"Pero él específicamente es un pícaro, no un ladrón. Siempre demuestra una serenidad o dignidad que faltan los otros que fueron, de veras, ladrones."
"Vale. No tiene nada que ver con que él le parece guapo a usted."
"Después de que empezó con llevar sus gafas todo el tiempo, él ha perdido un poquito de su encanto."

De Maceras chuckled a bit in response, swirling the wine in his glass. "Sabe, es algo que no han descuidado las comunistas. Nuestro país sigue produciendo el vino más culturado e imparalelable del mundo."
"Claro," she assented. "Algún día, quiero beberlo directamente del fuente."
"¿Volverle? Me dijo antes que nunca iba a volver mientras las comunistas permanecían."
"Nos volvemos viejo, Antonio, y eventualmente la energía requerida para mantener los resentimientos de la juventud también nos faltará. ¿Quiero volverme? Sí. ¿Quiero decirle eso a Menéndez? Claro que no."

De Maceras finished his glass of wine and pushed his chair back slowly, standing and buttoning the jacket of his suit, smoothing the few slight wrinkles from his vest. He strolled over to a table to peruse the selection and perhaps take a few crackers. A flash of white from the entryway caught his attention, and he turned halfway to his destination to see a man of about eighty, a few years his elder, calmly ascend the last few steps and pass the threshold of the hall. He smiled slightly, catching María Catalina de Tarancón's eye and winking, before setting his glass on the table and going to meet the last living architect of his exile.

White Palace, Central Tenshu, Eito

6º de mayo, 2017; 18:50

Hilarión could feel the purr of the engine beneath his feet, winding up the curves of the Kolish road. Despite the spring leaves rustling above his head, the air was still a bit chilled in the mountains. It was enjoyable to return to Kolintha in a more hospitable season; though the country had been pretty in the winter when last he visited, leaves and sunlight rendered it far nicer. He'd decided to accept Skavaru's invitation on rather short notice, and his staff hadn't been terribly pleased with him for doing so, particularly when he declined to have any real escort.

Eventually he'd been persuaded to allow one official to accompany him, and he'd of course elected to bring María Elena, who now sat in the back seat alongside him. Altamira had been satisfied; the Secretary of Foreign Affairs was bright and had a track record of promoting internationalism and humanitarian efforts, all of which made her a good figure to appear abroad alongside the stubborn Secretario Menéndez. Despite its proximity to Eito proper, the entire district leading up to the White Palace was surprisingly clean and the air retained the crispness only altitude could bring.

The entryway to the Imperial complex was understandably ornate, visible as Menéndez's convertible rounded a corner and began to slow. He'd arrived late on purpose; the object was to avoid being seen as long as possible save by the people he actively wanted to meet. Kuznetsova had advised him against it, but as was common with him, he'd ignored the warning and calmly waited until 18:30 to leave for the event. Apparently the plan had paid off as well; there were only a handful of Kols still waiting around. Hilarión stepped from the car and walked around to open Kuznetsova's door before stepping onto the curb and moving towards their reception.

“Mr Menéndez?” Hakaro exclaimed, offering his hand as the three approached the gate proper. “I had heard rumours from those close to my father that you would be joining us tonight. Might I be so rude as to inquire what brings you and your companions here?”
“こんばんわー, はかろさま. It’s not rude in the slightest. I thought it would be proper to accept the invitation given how kind your father has been to me recently. It made negotiations between our states easier, and I’ve great respect for him.”
“Ah, a personal visit then. He’ll be most pleased to see you I’m sure.” The Prince turned to begin walking into the Palace, and beckoned Menéndez and the others to follow. “I’ll walk you gentlemen to the Hall, if you would allow me.”
“The ticket for tonight shall be avoiding those people who’d be less than pleased to see me. I made no announcement I’d be here, so it could prove a nasty surprise,” he laughed, accompanying Hakaro as he ambled towards the Palace proper. “Though to be fair, I’m a private citizen and really would prefer to do as I wished without it being an international scene.”
“The curse of fame, eh? Worry not, you’re far from the most controversial individual on the guest list.”
“The curse of ideology, rather. And splendid; it shall be all the easier to simply enjoy the festivities if attention is focused elsewhere.”
“Indeed.” Hakaro begin to ascend the few remaining steps to the main hall.

White Palace, Central Tenshu, Eito

6º de mayo, 2017; 19:20

Check back in under twenty-four hours.

by **Enara** » Thu May 18, 2017 1:33 pm

Eito, Kolintha
May 6th, 2017

The Hegemony had received the invitation from their neighbors far to the north with gratitude and had organized a response in short order. How could the Hegemony neglect to attend such a historic celebration. The 2,600th anniversary of anything was a cause for celebration, but for a nation to have endured so many hundreds of years, now that was a true accomplishment. Further, the Hegemony had enjoyed relatively warm relations with the Kolish, and it was Kolish instability that the Divines had used as a vehicle to expand the Hegemony, something that they should (though did not seem to be) deeply honored by. Unfortunately, it was uncustomary for the Tsovnah to travel himself outside of the Hegemony. The Divines did not like to rely on what they considered dubious technologies that allowed them to stay in contact with those far beyond their borders, and so when it was possible, they would expect their intercessors to remain in the nation. But the Tsovnah had wished to make a good impression on the Emperor and his family, and so he sent ‘his heart, his very heart’ as the letter accepting the invitation had stated- two of his five children. In addition to this, he had requested Maah Nagarik Dali’mani Kirima Nydira, who oversaw the Sabha for Foreign Enlightenment, to attend along with his children. It was exceedingly rare that Vala Nydira could be bothered to attend anything other than the most sensitive diplomatic missions, but this was considered an exception. Now the three vehicles that made up the Enaran convoy were gliding down the streets, two white SUVs filled mostly with staff but also with a few soldiers send to guard the VIPs, and between them a white limousine which carried the Maah and the two children of the Tsovnah.

“This is so exciting!” Were it not for her years of experience with careful negotiation and the extensive self-control that came with it, Nydira would have winced at the high pitch of the exclamation. “Vala Nydira, is it true that this country is nearly three thousand years old? They predate even the Hegemony! And what a beautiful country it is! So… serene? Maybe that’s not the right word. But it’s gorgeous, and the people! They’re so… unique. It’s lovely!” What wasn’t lovely was having to answer the questions the girl could produce one after another, the entire trip had been like this, and were it not for the fact that Nydira felt some, damnable, motherly instinct to watch over the girl and her brother, both of whom she’d known from the womb, she would have found alternative means of transport. If only for the peace and quiet. Still, she could not be too grievously offended by the young woman. Even at the more mature age of twenty-two, Sharin was still young at heart. Personally, Nydira suspected it was because she spent too much time around the Enari, that strange people group who hid in their high mountains and lived lives of quiet worshipful seclusion and prayer. While she appreciated the Enari, she had never found one she cared to have tea with. Though, she supposed, it was necessary for the Named Gods to have such a quaint culture to rely upon for incarnation.

“The precise age of their state is a matter for some debate,” the woman replied to the girl’s earlier question. As Maah of the Sabha for Foreign Enlightenment, she had made it a point, long ago, to become familiar with the histories and imaginings of all nations she was likely to have meaningful interaction with. “While there is little room for doubt that sentient life did exist in the region 2,600 years ago and long preceding that also, there is little cause to believe that the government- as it is today- can legitimately trace its lineage so far back,” her tone was kept even and cool. Her tone hid her personal opinion on the matter excellently, neither displaying skepticism nor enthusiasm.

“So it is possible that Hegemony would predate them?” Nydira turned to the young man who had spoken, Unalik. He had grown more handsome now that he was beginning to grow into his strong features. His had a strong chin with a noticeable cleft, prominent dark eyebrows that complimented his wavy black hair. His eyes were sharp and focused, a keen intellect present there in spite of his relatively young age.
“Yes, it is possible. Though,” she took a moment to make eye contact with both children of the Tsovnah, “what is significant here is not the age of their government, but rather that this figure- 2,600 is significant to these people. Be it historical or merely national myth, we will acknowledge it as legitimate for the sake of ensuring harmonious relations with our gracious hosts.”

“We honor your wisdom Vala,” the girl replied, answering for both herself and her brother. “Oh I can’t wait, it’s all so exciting! Unalik,” she said reaching out and pulling gently on her younger brother’s arm, “have you considered all of the new people we’ll meet?” There was an impassioned eagerness in her dark eyes, few words could better describe Sharin than extrovert- always eager to meet and be met. Unalik’s face did not display the same burning desire to expand his social network, he even sighed at the very notion of it, “oh come on now Unalik,” she said in a cheerful, if teasing, tone. “You don’t have to be Mr. Gloom-and-Glum all the time,” she pretended to pout and her brother raised a skeptical eyebrow against her comment, “maybe you’ll find some pretty girl and fall for her. Maybe a Princess!”

“Sharin,” he replied doubtfully, “we’re being sent to improve international relationships, not seek out personal ones. Let us try to avoid quagmires of both political and romantic nature.” His sister stuck out her lower lip and turned her large eyes against him, utilizing them as the powerful weapons they were, she pouted only for a few seconds before Unalik added, “but the day is still very young, who knows what it could bring.”

“Yay!” His sister cheered as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, “that’s the spirit Unalik!” He sighed deeply, he had never appreciated the extent of control his sister had over him, relying on nothing other than her pouts or her sad eyes she could compel him to completely take leave of his senses and agree to nearly anything. He was consoled by the knowledge that he was not the only person to have fallen under her spell so to speak, it was probably something she had learned from the Enari. He steeled himself and prepared to advise her to avoid seeking out any romantic endeavors of her own but just as he had taken a breath to speak the vehicle came to a halt and his sister nearly shrieked with joy, “oh we’re here! How exciting, come along Unalik!”

The door was opened by a member of Nydira’s staff and Sharin exited the white vehicle, she seemed to glide over the ground, moving as the embodiment of grace. Her hair was a dark, but gentle, oak color with the occasional lock of honey reflecting the shimmer of the sun above. Her hair had been styled to be up and off her neck, though with a playful carelessness which allowed the occasional steam of oaky brown to fall along her shoulders. Her hair and her fact from the nose down were covered by a thin, rose colored, translucent scarf that was dotted with small yellow flowers. She was wearing a blouse and matching sari which was draped over her left shoulder and fell all the way to the ground obscuring her feet. While traditionally a loose outfit, Sharin’s sari clung closely to her body and accentuated her curves. The sari was sunset red and was decorated with yellow roses that matched her two golden bracelets on her right wrist, her left arm was covered by the excess fabric of the sari which included a floor length sleeve. The sari gave way near her midriff and was replaced with the same translucent material that covered her hair, showing off her tight stomach. She also had elected to wear a substantial amount of jewelry, including long, golden earrings which fell almost the entire length of her neck, making it seem longer than it was. She also wore a small golden circle in her hair, towards the center of her forehead, which allowed a single, tear shaped ruby to rest on her forehead, all together the very epitome of Enaran sophistication.

Behind her came Unalik who was dressed more simply but no less elegantly by standards in the Hegemony. He wore a knee length, royal blue jacket that was buttoned with six large golden buttons that ran down the center of the jacket. He also wore silk pants that were loose and shifted as he walked, they were a deep gold that matched the buttons of his jacket, before ending the outfit with slip on shoes that matched the deep blue of his jacket. Sitting atop his head was a golden turban, also made of silk, that covered his hair and was capped with a red, blue, and green peacock feather off to the right. At his waist was an intricately decorated golden scabbard that sheathed a ceremonial short sword, the only evidence of the blade’s presence being the decorated, curved handle that peaked from out of the scabbard. He seemed altogether more serious than his sister and stern, though not necessarily unkind as he scanned the area with weary eyes and followed close behind his older sister.

Nydira was the last of the three to approach the beautiful gate of the palace, she had stopped to exchange whispered information with a member of her staff that had accompanied them. She instructed the security detail that had accompanied the three to remain with the vehicles as it struck her as infinitely rude to their host to insinuate that they were unable to provide adequate protection for their guests. She was by far the oldest member of the parties, in her mid-60s, she had outgrown any inclination to dress with such dazzling brilliance. Instead, she wore a simple, loose fitting sari in plain white over a blouse of silver. The plain colors contrasted well with her dark skin and, for the most part, black hair, though she did have a streak of white running prominently through her hair. She thanked the people sent to welcome them before entering the palace, curious as to what the celebrations might entail.

by **Kolintha** » Sat May 20, 2017 1:54 pm

White Palace Hall of Lights
6th of May, 2017. 18:01

Guests were beginning to stream in through the gates of the White Palace; long rows of black and white limousines and armoured sedans laboured up the uphill road, and disgorged many huddled troops of barons, socialites and corporate elites. Like mice in search of food, they quickly swept past the Prince who now stood at the open Palace doorway, and were funnelled through the ancient palace halls to the west wing, where the Hall of Lights, and the Imperial Gala, resided.

As they reached the ballroom, many looked up in awe, admiring the sheer sprawling scale of the chamber. Then, seemingly overpowered by some mystical social instinct, they fanned out, and began to mingle and harass the Palace staff with their problems and requests. They were careful, however, to avoid the Gala’s host, as he emerged from one of the side entrances, which lead directly into the inner halls of the Palace Tenshu, and was restricted to staff and palatial residents. He had hurriedly changed, with the help of several servants, into his evening clothes; a black kimono, emblazoned with many stylized golden roses - the symbol of the Imperial Clan. The hem of the robe was shorter than typical Imperial garments, ending half way down the calf, exposing the white cotton socks and straw sandals underneath. This made it somewhat easier for Skavaru to manoeuvre around the hall, without risk of a nasty trip.
The Empress Consort followed out after him, in robes effectively contrasting his; white, and embroidered with silver and golden vines, that rose up like tendrils from the hem of the kimono, to the Empress’ neck. It too was cut shorter than the norm, but even so Kosane had to lift the skirt yet further so she could catch up to her husband. Once she reached him, they linked arms, and strode across the ballroom together; both in good spirits. As they approached, guests either scuttled away out of anxiety, or bowed deeply in respect and reverence.

As they reached the center of the room, the noise level dropped to practically a whisper, with the guests turning to watch the official start of the festivities. Pausing for a moment, the Emperor after a few seconds raised his palm into the air, and waved it; signalling the band that had assembled upon the statue platform. Immediately, they began to play, and a wave of music rolled across the Hall of Light. A light, slow folk tune, accompanied by the soft crooning of two male vocalists.

Skavaru saw the first of the ‘major’ guests - those the Household was most eager to please - arrive as he and his wife already made their way to the Ballroom entrance, cutting a passage through the growing crowd with their presence alone. Marquess and Marquise Kurou and Yusha Dazhkan, the couple of troublemakers from the extended family of the Takeshima Clan - one a longtime insurgent in the Democratic Nationalist Party of the Imperial Government, and the other a former Minister of Justice, still active in political campaigning for her husband despite losing her Diet seat - had spotted the Emperor and quickly bore down on him. They were eager to make an impression.

“Your Imperial Majesty! And Empress Kosane. An honour to meet you both at last!.” The couple bowed in unison as they approached. Skavaru acknowledged them with a polite nod. Strictly speaking, they had met - the Emperor was a semi-regular presence in the Diet, and of course presided over the meetings of the Grand Council of State, and consequently Yusha at least was known to him.

“It’s a pleasure.” Kosane said with a warm smile, “I hear you’ve been doing good work with the Satsu Foundation, Marquise Dazhkan?” She broke away from Skavaru and walked away alongside the younger woman, giving the Emperor one last wink before turning away. Divide and conquer. Skavaru nodded with approval.

“Oh, yes! With our support, the foundation has been doing a lot of charitable work in northern Osova - Hadrian’s fever and all. You know --”

And then they were out of earshot. Dazhkan smiled at Skavaru, attempting what might have been a good natured grin if not for the fact it more closely resembled a predatory reptile lurking under the hide of a hairless ape. Of course, it was not the monarch’s place to pass judgement, but Skavaru had never had a great appreciation of the major Diet magnates. Something about that institution, he was sure, turned men and women into animals. Barring a few exceptions, most of them resembled Kurou - always predatory, and endlessly sycophantic. Or they were miniature Uesogas - rude, confrontational, but still just as opportunistic as the first breed. Speaking of which…

“I notice Her Excellency is unfortunately absent.” Dazhkan commented innocently, “Should I be worried?” He was of course referring to the investigation; Skavaru could tell that even if he hadn’t been listening. The Chairman’s two beady black eyes glistened with excitement.

“No, no… It is a personal matter.” Skavaru ‘reassured’ him. He saw the excitement dampen. “Besides - it is a routine measure. The investigation. It would be improper for me to speculate until any sort of conclusion is made in that regard, you will understand…”

“True, true.” The marquess stood by a table to pour himself a glass of expensive foreign wine, and then offered a second to the Emperor. Skavaru gave a nod of gratitude and took the glass. “In any case, a toast to your health, Your Imperial Majesty. And to the Empire!”

Their glasses connected with a soft clink. Dazhkan drained his vessel impressively fast. Skavaru meanwhile, was far slower in that regard. He had no intent of rupturing his liver that night.
He was also conscious of the scattered gaggles of journalists roaming the hall. Embarrassing himself in any way was out of the question.

“Have you had the pleasure of meeting the King of Stazhe, Lord Dazhkan?” The Emperor asked, “You are from Stazheliktau, no?” Dazhkan shook his head.

“The King, no, unfortunately not. To be frank, I haven’t visited the old place since high school. That is - 17 or so? So a good 41 years I would venture.”

“No family there?”

“My sister moved back there in ‘09, but we don’t talk much. I personally wanted to join the Duchess, here in Eito. Then I moved to Zhuno, for political reasons.” He took a long sip of wine, raising a thin eyebrow, “Why do you ask, Your Imperial Majesty?”

“Idle curiosity. And he will be visiting us tonight, so perhaps you can get in touch with your heritage? He is an amiable fellow, I’m sure you will enjoy him.” That at least was true. Skavaru was quite fond of old af Stazhe.

“An intriguing opportunity, Your Imperial Majesty.”

Many more new guests were now starting to arrive, and that included foreigners. Skavaru was eager to get away and greet other arrivals, but Dazhkan was equally eager to keep him engaged. They talked for several minutes more, until at last the Emperor pulled away.

“Ah, tired of me, Your Imperial Majesty?” The marquess laughed, bowing.

“No such thing, Lord Dazhkan.” He explained, “Merely other matters to attend to. I pray you will excuse me!”

He strode off, in no particular direction. He greeted passers by as he went, zigzagging between the scattered tables, almost as if he were dancing alone to the warbling old melody being played by the band. After a couple revolutions of the same general area, he caught up to his wife, who was engaged in conversation with an unusually tall, broad-shouldered woman in half-moon spectacles, that rested precariously on a prominently curved nose. This was the Hegemon-Duchess of Tezo, Siura Takeshima. It seemed, that in the absence of Uesoga and her cronies, the whole warrior clan had turned out in force to charm the Imperial house. Siura was the Kova of the clan - it’s de-facto leader, with recognition from it’s constituent branches and businesses. The head of a family of thousands, and a dozen different enterprises.

“Lady Takeshima, hello.” He exclaimed, bowing slightly. “It has certainly been some time since you have joined us here for any celebrations.” He raised his glass for yet another toast. The noble bowed and obliged him.

“It has been too long, Your Imperial Majesty.” She smiled, though in more of a friendly manner than Dazhkan’s hunting grin. As far as nobility went, Siura had always been relaxed, and generally agreeable. Though she had served a short term in the Diet, it had been a single term before she became bored of common politics and quit, so evidently she had been spared whatever magical corruptive force had consumed her extended kinsman. “I have been talking to the honoured Empress here; how is the young mistress?”

“Oh, Ego? She’s very well.” Skavaru explained, “Growing into a good strong girl with a good strong heart. I can only hope she turns out like you, Siura. Feel free to dispense with the formalities - you are a friend.”

“You flatter me, sir.”

“Skavaru.”

“Apologies. Naval habits. Formalities are to be replaced with lesser formalities. You know how it is.” She sighed.

Kosane laughed, “Oh don’t worry, we know it. Hakaro turned up today and did the same when he saw me, and he’s a relative.”

“Ah, yes, he greeted me at the door.” the Duchess said, “Handsome lad. Any plans of marriage?”

The Empress Consort sniggered at the very idea. “You’ve met him, my dear. He’s not the settling type. Woe be upon any woman who falls for him.”

“How about you, Siura?” Skavaru teased, “You’re somewhat past the normal age for that sort of thing, no? Any items of fancy?” His teasing was met with an embarrassed giggle.

“Truly, you are worse than my own mother. In truth though, I am actually engaged!”

The revelation was met with a cry of congratulations from both Imperials. Kosane especially. “To whom, might I ask?”

“The Count of Osou. He’s an awfully pleasant gentleman - have you met him? Very interesting. He was on the recent charity expedition in Tartarum.”

“Oh -- that Count of Osou? We haven’t, no, but he seems like an honourable fellow. Certainly a good match, don’t you think so dear?”

“Mm.” Skavaru replied; he had noticed he was being watched from across the hall by some newcomers; a trio consisting of two men and a teenager. One of them, he distinctly recognized as the Nerotysian envoy to Kolintha. An amiable enough man. Very reasonable, given his origins. Skavaru had met Nerotysian envoys before who had outstripped Kolish aristocrats in their pompousness and arrogance, but Mr. Szervánszky had approached the Imperial government as a good-hearted, humble figure. He turned to his wife and the Duchess.

“I apologize, but I must be off again.”
Kosane pouted, but the Takeshima nodded. “Understandable. You are the host, after all.”

He made his way towards Szervánszky and the other man - whom he recognized as he came closer to be the surprise guest from the Nerotysian Progress Committee, a Mr. Karlo Cindrić. The boy, he assumed, was the man’s son. Zvonimir Cindrić.
Perhaps he had spent too much time memorising the guest list. That’s certainly what Kosane would have told him if she were walking with him.

“Gentlemen, hello, hello! Welcome to Eito, and the palace. I trust you are all well after the journey from the Peninsula?”

“Yes, yes, thankfully - this is actually my first time outside of Nerotysia. As a young man, I did not care for traveling.” Cindrić was the first to answer.

“Well, then I’m honoured Kolintha is your first destination, sir. And how are you, Nandor?” He turned to the envoy, and shook both hands offered to him.

“I’m very well, Skavaru. I hear there will be fireworks later?”

“Oh yes. Eito has some of the world’s largest displays, but we plan to go above and beyond this year. When it’s time, we’ll be going out into the gardens to watch. The hill is steeper on the north side, so we’ll have a mostly unobstructed view.”

“Ah, excellent. The worst part of my job is missing Shynka’s displays, so this will scratch that itch.” Nandor drew close to the Emperor, lowering his voice and speaking in Kolish - he didn’t need Cindrić stabbing him in the back. “Also, I must apologize for the whole - Virnessr situation back home. Certain comrades of mine are more ruled by their guts than their minds.”

Skavaru replied with a jovial demeanor. He had hoped the matter wouldn’t come up - he wanted to avoid tensions where possible. An impossible wish perhaps. “Think nothing of it. I am not a man who holds many grudges. You are a lovely chap, Nandor, so the issue hardly even came to mind.” Skavaru turned then to the youngest of the trio. “And you are the young master Zvonimir? A good, healthy son you have Mr. Cindrić - Karlo - may I call you Karlo?”
“No problem, Skavaru. I’m not sure if ‘healthy’ is the correct word, frankly, given Zvonko’s lifestyle.”

Zvonimir smiled. Humor was an excellent way of defanging his hatred of strangers. “My lifestyle is fine. When you’re eighteen you’re allowed to eat junk.” He stuck his hand out. “Hello, Skavaru.”

The Emperor returned a firm handshake with a chuckle, “Well, I can’t speak for the chefs, but I’m sure we’ll be able to accommodate your tastes, Master Zvonimir. What do you make of the Palace?” It was clear the boy wasn’t the social type, but that wasn’t about to stop Skavaru.

“It’s really incredible. I think I’m already addicted to strange foreign palaces. How old is it?”

“The Hall is 17th century - 1618 if I remember correctly? But the Palace itself is older, and a bit of a patchwork. Imperial residence used to be in the Black Palace - that’s the one with the big spires a little further down the hill, which you may have passed on your way up. The core of the Palace, where the gardens are now, was built around 1204 as a shrine, but an Empress moved in about - gosh - 1280 or so, and built the central tenshu - that’s the big tower. Whole place got a big refit after it was sacked in 1400, during the feudal period, and there have been bits and pieces added since, including the hall.” Skavaru huffed, “Forgive the history lesson.”

Zvonko’s eyes wandered over the Hall’s interior as Skavaru spoke. “Jesus. I don’t think there are any buildings left in Nerotysia that old.” He looked to his father, who generally made it his business to know everything.

“Not in Pelkish lands, no. But the Nyrossi have preserved some things.” Karlo looked to Nandor, who nodded in agreement.

“Oh yes. There are a few palaces in Shynka, and some really old church in Kiszpaskelar I think.”

“So I’ve heard.” Skavaru replied, content he had found some acceptable common interest to make small talk with, “I studied Ordan architecture at one point. Always been keen on visiting Andromeda square - with the mausoleum. It’s very impressive.”

Nandor spoke up again. “It’s even more beautiful on the inside, you would absolutely love it. I would offer to arrange a visit, but I don’t think my superiors would be very happy about that, unfortunately.”

White Palace South Gate
18:34

“Brother! Now this is a surprise. How are you?” Prince Yosuke exclaimed as he saw Hakaro waiting on the Palace steps.

“Ah - Yosuke.” They embraced each other as they came close, “I was wondering when my good ol’ big brother would arrive. I’ve been well - have you come all the way from Rosako?”

The elder prince shook his head. “I flew here two weeks ago. Had some business with Lady Takeshima and figured it would be worth sticking around given the celebrations. I’ll be in the Capital for another two days, then I’ll be heading back. How about you?”

Hakaro winced. “I’m here today and tomorrow, then it’s straight back to Ekko, I’m afraid.”

“The admiralty waits for no man!” Yosuke said, chuckling. He turned and waved his family forwards. “Come on the lot of you. It’s Uncle Hakaro.”

Nanase - his wife - was at the forefront. She looked much like how she had when Hakaro had last seen her, some 14 months ago, though tonight she had her dark brown up, held in place by an elaborate golden headpiece. Her kimono was an elegant modern design; black and tailored in a way that emphasized certain curves, distinct from more common traditional designs, which typically created a more conical or cylindrical silhouette. The two girls behind her - Shiomi and Katone, Hakaro’s nieces - were dressed similarly, though the former had the most ornate jewellery and robes of the three women - her kimono was a furisode, with long, hanging sleeves, and she wore both a complex silver headpiece - consisting of several dragons that curled in and out of her hair - and an array of matching necklaces and bracelets. It was typical in Kolintha for young women who were unmarried and unengaged to wear the most distinctive clothing to such events, even if, as in Shiomi’s case, they were younger than the fashionable age range (19 - 28) for marriage.

Similarly, the eldest child and the last to come forward, Kano, was dressed in clothing that mirrored his father - a dark crimson and white kimono, emblazoned with the rose crest of the Eikō dynasty. However, he too wore an impressive array of shining metal - his warrior-like topknot was held in place with a decorative silver rose hairpin, and from his neck hung three silver and gold necklaces. The young prince looked at his uncle with a pair of intense pale blue eyes - they matched those of his grandfather, and his cousin. Hakaro nodded in approval as he noted how the boy had grown. It had not been all that long since they had seen each other, relatively speaking, but the formerly scrawny quiet young man had filled out. His jaw was decidedly more squarish, his arms brawnier and his stride far more confident.

“Oh, Hakaro. You have been looking after yourself, yes?” Nanase fussed, as she always did. The woman was possessed with an unconquerable concern for the welfare of others, “Why are you out here? You should be inside, enjoying yourself. Are you overworking yourself again? Two days away and you’re still treating your break like a job -- and you’re still without a suitor! Let me tell you, young man, that younger than you are happy husbands made. You need to settle.”

He gently brushed her off. “Really, Nane - I’m fine. Was looking to catch folks at the door and give them a good welcome. Father approves, so kindly leave me be. I’ll be in soon - that’s a promise.”

“Fine, fine…” She pouted, “Still convinced you need more leave though. Bend the rules a little. You’re a prince, that’s a thing you can do.”

“Now, Nane.” Yosuke broke in and linked arms with his wife, “Don’t be rude.”

“I wasn’t. Just stating the truth, dear.”

Kano stepped up and embraced his uncle, followed by his younger sisters.
“Mother is right.” Shiomi said flatly. She was a no-nonsense sort, and had been from the womb, Hakaro was certain. As an infant, she had been remarkably well behaved, and once in education, had taken to it like a natural. She was now in her second year of high school, only a couple of years younger than her brother. “You have far too little time away from work. And you aren’t even actively deployed.”

Hakaro grimaced. “I feel like I really shouldn’t be getting told off for this by somebody half my age…”

“You wouldn’t be getting told off if you stopped doing it, Uncle. In any case, has Aunt Hakase arrived?” Hakase and Shiomi had always got along naturally. The former was a habitual traveller, often residing for months at a time in Mingdai, or other parts of Escar. Naturally, her wanderings appealed to the curious young mind of the latter. If nothing else, Hakase had constant absence from palace life in common with Hakaro.

“No. Frankly, I don’t know if she’s going to show. I recall hearing she was in Allidron recently, but beyond that I’ve no idea.”

“Well.” Yosuke said, “Do say hello if you run into her before we do, alright? And don’t stay out here playing meet and greet for too long.”

“Noted, Brother.”

The Imperials passed by and quickly disappeared down the hallway to the gala. Hakaro breathed out, and returned to his task of greeting the other arrivals. Barely a minute after he had re-accustomed himself to the task, an enormous fleet of vehicles began to pull up in front of the Palace gate. Four steel grey cadillacs, followed and preceded by six bulky black suburbans. He raised an eyebrow at the excess, as the cadillacs spewed forth a stream of Allids - guards and guests alike. He tried to spot individuals - there was the elderly Keisari and his wife, and walking just in front, a smug-faced young man Hakaro assumed to be the Prince Ilmari. Besides the royals, there were two gentlemen with greying hair and hard, determined expressions - politicians, at a glance.

As they approached, Hakaro addressed the Keisari first, shaking the monarch’s hand and introducing himself. He noted his pleasure at their arrival, and then directed them towards the Hall of Lights. As they too disappeared down the corridor, he found himself somewhat ill at ease due to the continued presence of the black suburbans. He imagined, given what he had heard of the Allids before, that they were filled with guards. They were, he supposed, justifiably cautious - standing in enemy territory. On the bright side, only two of the guardsmen had accompanied the guests inside, which was an improvement on the veritable swarm of Nerotysians that had, somewhat rudely he had to admit, pushed past him earlier as he talked to the RNCP envoy. Most of them had borne rather shady dispositions, and he didn’t like it. As soon as the communists had gone, he had asked one of the guards to radio down to the security detail in the Hall of Lights, and keep an eye on them.

After the Allids came their northern neighbours, the Meriadnir. Hakaro had visited Meriad quite a few times since he had joined the Imperial Navy - there were a number of Imperial frigates and icebreakers that regularly visited the quaint little ports of the Kingdom, thanks to coastal rescue and economic cooperation treaties between the two countries. The Prince had been on board a few, and had spent some of his leave there as a result. He had at one point enjoyed a brief audience with the former King, but he had never met the new Queen, Crica. She was here now however, and following her was an advisor of some sort. He smiled amiably as he welcomed both, bowing to the Queen and shaking the advisor’s hand. Much as he had done with the Allids, he motioned them into the Palace.

The stream of guests had tapered off into a steady trickle now, and Hakaro was about ready to turn and leave, until he spied a small posse of guests who, from their bronzed skin, could be easily identified as foreigners, although they kept to the side, and appeared to be trying to keep a low profile. More friends of his father it seemed.

“Mr Menéndez?” he asked, offering his hand as the three individuals approached the gate proper, led by a familiar face - Hilarión Carancho Menéndez, of Gran Altiplano. He had heard some things about this man from the Emperor - ‘a reasonable gentleman as communists go’, he had said.

“I had heard rumours from those close to my father that you would be joining us tonight. Might I be so rude as to inquire what brings you and your companions here?” He had to admit, he was curious.

“Good evening, Mr. Hakaro. It’s not rude in the slightest. I thought it would be proper to accept the invitation given how kind your father has been to me recently. It made negotiations between our states easier, and I’ve great respect for him.”

“Ah, a personal visit then. He’ll be most pleased to see you I’m sure.” The Prince turned to begin walking into the Palace, and beckoned Menéndez and the others to follow. “I’ll walk you gentlemen to the Hall, if you would allow me.” As he walked, he called over a servant - a girl of about 17. “Cover the entrance for me, will you?” She nodded timidly in response, issuing a quiet ‘Yes, Your Imperial Highness’. Hakaro then turned to lead the old revolutionary and two folks following him to the Hall of Lights.

White Palace Hall of Lights
18:58

“It has been awfully pleasant dining with you, Your Imperial Highness.” The General said, as she, the Director and the Crown Princess with her servant glided into the Hall together, “I wish you a joyous night.” She turned to face the Princess directly, and bowed. The director mimicked her motion, and then made his own goodbyes.

“It has been a pleasure, General Mateni, Lord Hashiba. Will you be staying for the fireworks?”

Mateni nodded eagerly, oddly childlike, with her short, stocky stature. She was barely an inch taller than Ego herself. “It has been a while since I’ve been around for a proper display… How about you Director?” The older gentleman fingered his moustache as he thought for a second.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I had intended to leave after the initial festivities. I don’t have the stomach for late nights - but I missed last year’s star festival, and will likely be missing it this year too. So by the gods, why not?”

“Excellent.” Ego smiled at the pair, “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I should perhaps try my hand at playing hostess now. Have a pleasant evening.”

As she watched the two visitors make their way off to sample the impressive array of alcoholic beverages being laid out on the various tables around the room, she addressed Shisu, who stood smartly dressed behind her, in a drab grey and chalk blue men’s kimono, which made him conveniently unnoteworthy when standing next to his mistress.

“So, how do I look?” She asked, twirling slowly. Anxiety was gnawing at the back of her brain. People were looking her way.
Shisu looked at the floor and concealed his face with his fan, as he reassured her. “The very model of a lady of the court, Your Imperial Highness.”

She had, after much indecision, eventually settled on an elegant furisode; it was a pitch black at the neck, which gradually transitioned into a midnight blue further down. It was decorated with swirling turquoise clouds, and streams of silver birds and koi karp which danced up the swinging sleeves and ringed the Princess’s neck, where they became indistinguishable from the silver and platinum necklaces and bracelets that Shisu had carefully picked out and arranged for her.

“You’ve done a fantastic job, Shi. Both with the outfit, and keeping me on schedule. Thank you.”

“I aim to please, Your Imperial Highness.” He bowed humbly.

“Please, no need for that. In any case - where to next?” She looked around the hall. Like her grandparents, she was to play the role of a diplomat tonight. Wooing the nobility, and impressing the foreign dignitaries, if she could. And she would do the job with pride.

Eventually, she spotted one particular group that drew her attention with their exotic clothing and mannerisms as they entered; a dark skinned, older woman who walked alongside two younger guests; a young lady who appeared to be a few years Ego’s junior, walking with a cheerful expression and a mouth in full-auto. She was dressed in graceful foreign silks, of a sort that the Crown Princess had rarely seen in Kolintha. And then there was the gentleman, far more serious than the girl, with a scabbard at his hip, a turban covering his hair, and distinctive golden fabrics and elaborate embroidery in his clothes.

They carried themselves with a specific type of elegance that was associated with only a single nation conducting regular business with the Empire; Enara. Ego had seen the Hegemony’s envoy’s before, in conferences with her father and the Lady Uesoga, and they always carried themselves in this sort of manner. A confident, open-minded form of elitism.

Curiosity led her onwards. Shisu quickly saw her destination and kept pace with her. He muttered names and information as they walked.

“Maah Nagarik Dali’mani Kirima Nydira - that is the lady in white. She oversees the Sabha of Foreign Enlightenment, Your Imperial Highness. The Maah is the title, in this instance.”

“Mm. And the youths?”

“They are children of the Tsovnah. That is, the high priest. The closest thing the state has to a monarch, perhaps. A Lord Unalik, and a Lady Sharin.”

Ego approached the trio with a friendly smile, bowing deeply as she intercepted them with a greeting, doing her best to hide her nerves behind a mask of confidence. She had never been good with initiating social contact; she was, as her grandfather said, a listener, not a speaker. But she had to learn.

And there was of course no time like the present.
“Hello! I am Crown Princess Ego. You are the guests from far-away Enara, yes? How was the journey?”

White Palace South Gate
19:10
Saki, the servant the Prince had placed on duty at the gates, stood on the steps of the Palace cold and disinterested. The early flow of guests had largely ceased, and many of the palace servants had gone inside, with only two remaining close by to guide stragglers to the Hall. Besides them - and they weren’t much conversation - it was just her and the guards. But they were no better. If anything, they were worse. The most she had managed to get out of any of them was an annoyed grunt.

So, in effect, she was alone, and irritated. The silence, coupled with the distant sounds of celebration in the tiers below, and within the confines of the Palace, dragged her mood into the gutter.

But then, she heard something else. A third source of sound - music - this time coming neither from below, or from within, but from just down the roadway leading to the gate. As the sounds grew louder, she could make out drums - the ceremonial sort carried in horse drawn carriages in the summer parades. And accompanying them, brass instruments she could not pick out by ear alone.

The guard closest to her raised an eyebrow, and uttered the first complete sentence she had yet to witness. “What in the gods…”

Earlier, Hakaro had thought the Allid method of transport excessive, but it did little to match the sight that confronted Saki now bore witness to, as a company of enormous southern warlord’s horses - a breed unique to the semi-arid climes of Vioska and southern Kolintha - trooped in through the south gate, their riders - carrying colourful scarlet, gold and purple banners - ignoring the guardsmen who tried to stop them until they were assembled in the shadowed courtyard of the White Palace proper. At the very rear of the formation were three horse-drawn carriages, two of which were manned by the aforementioned drummers, and men with bizarre twisted silver instruments that Saki could not recognize from any brass band she had ever seen.

The third, which was placed between the first two, was a stagecoach made of wood and painted with gold, pulled by three horses and decorated chiefly with a single enormous sculpture of demonic face that sat on the roof like an oversized gargoyle, it’s twisted golden fangs forming the seat of the coachmaster, and the doors of the coach.

There was a silence as the party came to a stop, the only sound being the fussing of the security officials as they harassed the most senior looking of the riders on horseback, who looked back at them with a bemused shrug, adjusting the plume of yellow-dyed ostrich feathers that rose from his engraved steel helmet and which jutted out vertically from certain peculiarly pointed zones of his bulky suit of plate armour.

Eventually, a rider in the middle dismounted, and squeezed past his compatriots to the front, facing Saki. He was more lightly dressed than the officer, or the outer layer of horsemen, wearing simply a lamellar breastplate, single feather cap, and a navy blue tunic. Clearing his throat, he stood straight and delivered his declaration, clearly trying not to stutter as he did so.

“Make way for the Great King, Yv af Bastur of the Most Serene Kingdom of Basturinktau ve Vayasakahi, Enlightened Sovereign entrusted with the might of the Emperors and Empresses of Heaven, by the Order of Heaven, for the Benefit of Heaven! Make way! Make way!”

The message echoed round the courtyard for a moment. Then the messenger cleared his throat, and the doors of the coach opened on either side.
First to dismount was a shockingly plain middle-aged woman in a simple suit and pencil skirt, which while well-tailored, made her look mostly like a secretary of some sort, an image not helped by her tightly restrained black hair - a common trend among Kolish salary women. She then reached into the coach, as if to help somebody else dismount. For a second, it looked to the servants and guards as if she were trying to convince this mystery passenger to accept her help, but then she stepped aside, and the second occupant stepped out into the crisp evening air. A man of great proportions, in both axises, who, as he turned away from the woman in the suit, seemed almost medieval in appearance next to her light, modestly-cloaked frame. He had a short, bushy beard, and an impressive set of whiskers, both of which were flecked with streaks of grey. Two beady eyes darted madly from a sun-browned face. More spectacular, however, was the man’s attire; a barrel-like steel cuirasse over a tunic of gold, under a crimson waistcoat in the traditional Kolish style, with prominent padded shoulders that exaggerated the already imposing, if ridiculous, figure. And on his head was an ornate feudal-style kabuto, with rear-facing chin guards that restrained a torrent of white fur, that covered the entire helm and hung over the strange man’s back and shoulders like a shaggy cape.

A third and final passenger emerged at the opposite end of the coach. A girl in her late teenage years, perhaps 17 or 18 - not far off from Saki herself - with slightly bronzed skin similar to the medieval man, and a strong figure. A sleeveless robe - made up of a simple blouse and a long, ankle-length pleated skirt, both in powder blue with golden embroidery on the seams - showed off slight ripples of muscle in her upper arms; the lower halves however were concealed by long white silk gloves. At her hip the girl wore a tight grey-belt, with a silver buckle, from which hung a jewelled scabbard, containing an impressively long ceremonial dagger. Her bust was deemphasized by the relatively loose fit of the blouse, but she had already developed noticeable curves at the hips. This, combined with her height, would have made mistaking her for an adult an easy affair, were it not for the youthful features of her face, namely her large, hazelnut brown eyes.

The girl hurriedly made her way to the man’s side, carefully arranged blackish-brown hair - held in place with two golden pins - bobbing as she walked. Finally, the duo strode forward, accompanied a few paces behind by the woman in the plain suit.

“What ho!” The man bellowed as he came to a stop right before Saki. Immediately the servant came to her senses and stood up straight, but dared not to move. “Say, girl. Who might you be, and where is dear old man Skavaru, eh? I, My Royal Majesty, have arrived for the grand old celebration of the Empire.” He received no response from the shocked girl, who continued standing straight as an arrow, as if she had not even heard his question.

“Er…” He scratched his beard, turning to the suit lady, “Yusi. Is the girl deaf? Or dead?” Without a word, the woman stepped forward, in front of the old Bezhtun royal, and reached a hand out to shake the servant gently by the shoulder. Immediately, as if by instinct, the girl’s upper body plummeted into a bow, and she burst into an explosion of apologies.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Your Majesty -- I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The gala is -- I’m sorry -- just through there sir -- Your Majesty -- Forgive me.”

“Hmph.” Yv grunted, scratching his beard once more, “Well, uh - thank you. Yusi, Karii, come along.”

And with that, they swept past the confused and guilty servant, as she continued to apologize.
“Funny staff they employ, here in the capital.” The King mused. The women at either side of him nodded in mock agreement.

by **Flauc** » Sat May 20, 2017 3:25 pm

Kolintha
Eito
6th May

The midnight mist ascended over the skies of Eito, a beautiful and astonishing city, a metropolis of Escar. Eito was built in a hilly area, with multiple palaces adorning the mountaintops. Blue and red lights and the sound of a police siren could be heard in Eito, following a generic black sedan belonging to the embassy, along with the ambassador's security detail inside it. Along the main road, police motorcycles were blocking the road, stopping the chances of an attack on the visitors to the Kolish Royalty.

It was one in a lifetime event that Flaucese ambassadors were invited to an event in the White Palace with the Emperor in attendance. A security motorcade formed up of Kolish police motorcycles followed the ambassador's sedan until the Celestial Palace, after which the ambassador and his family drove on alone with their security detail accompanying them. Raainas Gorasz and his wife, Yuliya Gorasz were mostly silent for the ride. Raainas occasionally diverted his look to the road. Kolish households and police vehicles regularly intersected his view. Calmness, emptiness would be the correct words to describe what Raainas, the ambassador from Flauc to Kolintha felt at the time in the large, but important city. Kolintha, despite suffering a huge loss in the End Wars and being split up after the Second One, still maintained an omnipresent watch over the region it could call it's neighborhood, Escar.

Right now, more than ever, Flauc was threatened by imperialist and fascist tendencies. With a Revisionist Transoxthraxia, anything could happen, since it was pretty clear from day one that the Revisionists were not seeking friendship and co operation with the Flaucese government. It didn't seem like the new Transoxthraxian government was very friendly with Kolintha either.

"To be fair," he thought,
"we deserve no sympathy."

Raainas could only be happy that he wouldn't need to fight any damned war with the Transoxthraxians nor Allid if one broke out. His studies ended in 1974, when he finished the Kaliametho University, studying international relations. Seeking a career in diplomacy, he began work in the Foreign Ministry, working as general staff in multiple embassies in countries such as Transoxthraxia, Meriad and in the end, Kolintha. Raainas became the ambassador to Kolintha in Eito in 1986, after the previous ambassador, Ernakrs Iekas died and needed to be replaced.

Raainas Gorasz met his future wife in Kolintha. Yuliya herself was a Kolish citizen, a Bezhtun by ethnicity. She was born in Stazheliktau, but moved to Eito in search of better job opportunities. Yuliya began working in the Flaucese Embassy in Eito in the general staff, and met Raainas. After three years, they married and Yuliya became a Flaucese citizen after another year. Yuliya resigned her job in the Kolish Ministry of Foreign Affairs and became apart of the family of Raainas, thus being allowed to remain in the confines of the embassy. Raainas is now 54 years old, still continuing his work in international relations. Raainas himself was rather lucky, narrowly avoiding an assassination attempt by a Kolish ultranationalist in 1990 after he threw a grenade at Raainas, luckily, the grenade failed to explode and Raainas escaped unscratched from the attack.

The black vehicle entered the confinement of the Celestial Palace, with the motorcade of police splitting off and guarding the entrance. Slowly, it edged up it's way to the top of the hill to the White Palace. Moonlight shone on the black sedan, enamoring it. The Celestial Palace itself was built around a hill, with the White Palace on the top, it's white and marble walls spectating Eito and the metropolis. Multiple palaces other than the White Palace adorned the sides of the hills, meant to house the nobles and the Marshal of State, with palaces for ministers also existing. Palaces also existed for foreign visitors, a specifically built palace for the Mingdai Royal Family also existed, almost as beautiful as the White Palace. Such luxury could not be witnessed in Flauc, perhaps it is because Flauc does not have a kingdom.

Perhaps it is the ultimate representation of a class divide. The single hill housed the majority of Kolish officials and royals, maybe it could be called the heart and brain of Kolintha. Raainas could not hide the fact that he himself was amazed and astonished by the beauty of the palaces that sprawled the hillside. Windy, brilliantly paved roads led up to the White Palace, the residence of the Emperor and the Crown Princess, at times, the whole Imperial Family. Trees also improved the aesthetic and brilliance of this marvelous piece of architecture built during the 13th century, surely a feat for it's time.

Relations between Flauc and Kolintha were not the best one could hope for. At times, they were shaky, and at other times, both sides could find a compromise on certain issues. During the Second Vioskan War in 1991, Flauc condemned the invasion itself and sent aid to Vioska to fight against Kolintha, with the conflict ending with a diplomatic settlement after Nerotysia and Khornera put pressure on the Kolish government for their display of aggression. Vioska was a lost cause, however, and recently was occupied by Transoxthraxia and Kolintha. It was a surprise that Flauc was invited to this event, as traditionally, Flauc has been rather isolated politically speaking and has not been invited to such an event before. Flauc itself is a member of OrCom, and it was hoped that Flauc could make friends or acquaintance itself with other foreign politicians. While it was not a diplomatic meeting strictly speaking, Flauc could still hope to improve it's impressions.

The White Palace came into the view of Raainas from his passenger seat window, before this, he had saw the multiple trees that surrounded the White Palace spontaneously. Multiple small roofs seemed to be layered everywhere, which would be something unusual to see in Flauc, or for that matter, any other country without Kolish origins in Ordis. Raainas' passenger door on his side was opened by his own security detail, letting himself step out onto the black pavement to look with his own eyes at the palace. He held the hand of his dear wife Yuliya and helped her get out. Raainas fixed his red tie, adjusting it to be more aligned with his suit. His figure was rather imposing, but his black hair made him seem as a man still not 54. If you asked anyone how old he was, some would answer about 40, perhaps even in the ranges of 30. Yuliya was dressed with a white, thin blouse with a black skirt and shoes. She, as her husband, also had black hair. She looked to the sky, her blue eyes glimmering in the moonshine.

A cold breeze swooped the visitors hailing from the seaman people, from Flauc.

by **Mingdai** » Sat May 20, 2017 6:18 pm

Deleted

by **Nerotysia** » Mon May 22, 2017 3:09 pm

Eito
6th May 2017
Recommended Listening

Amidst a blur of music and chatter the three Nerotysians made their way to an empty table near one of the larger dance areas. Zvonko’s fingers itched for his earphones - the deafening incoherence of social noise grated on his brain. His eyes escaped into the red fabric that clothed the table, which was crisscrossed with intricate shapes and mesmerizing gold embroidery. Karlo and Nandor took seats on either side of the absent-minded teenager, and scanned the rapidly filling Hall. Nandor merely sought some fresh opportunities - Karlo strained to find a specific quarry.

“Nandor, do you know if everyone’s arrived?”

“It seems so. Why?” Karlo ignored his question, before standing for a better view.

“Too many damn people,” he muttered. He shared a bit of his son’s distaste for extroverted extravaganzas. The artful lighting of the place danced across his pupils, complicating his quest further. The clever colors and enticing shadows of parties never suited Karlo either. The barenaked white lighting of a laboratory, or some other functional building, was far less headache.

“Shall I find the Altiplani, Karlo, if you’re that desperate for conversation?” Nandor smiled, but still Karlo ignored him.

“Aha!” He swiftly exited his chair, but even his eager legs were no match for Zvonko’s hand.

“Where are you going?” His father was his only hope in such an unfamiliar situation as this.

“Nowhere important, Zvonko. I’ll be back in a bit, you’ll be fine.” And with that he scurried off into the crowds.

Zvonimir sighed. He looked at Nandor, slipping his fingers around his earbuds, which dwelt patiently inside his pocket. They knew they’d be out before the night was over.

“I’m gonna go walk around. Chat with people. Y’know. Meet girls.”

Nandor chuckled. “That seems really out-of-character, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Zvonimir shrugged. “Yeah, I guess. Just let my dad know when he gets back.”

And with that both Cindrić men left the table, and Nandor figured he might as well get up too.

“We had just sat down,” Nandor mumbled under his breath.

Take a look around the room
Love comes wearing disguises.
How to go about and choose?
Break it down by shapes and sizes.
I'm a man who's got very specific taste.

Zvonimir very specifically avoided taking a look around the Hall as he snaked through the crowds. His eyes instead raked the walls of the massive building, seeking the easiest exit from these suffocating hordes of humanity. He became so focused on this task that he accidentally slammed face-first into a giant wall of bronze. After realizing that the wall was actually a man, he apologized under his breath, and then squeezed out of the little group before the man could respond. Speed was such a useful ally.

Finally he freed himself from the party, tripping out an open doorway into the blessed cool of nighttime Eito. He had fallen into a garden. Excellent. Quickly he set off along the smooth stone pathway, stuffing his earbuds into his head and fishing his smartphone from his pocket. Briefly he wondered if he should keep track of himself as he plunged further into the belly of the greenery, but dismissed the thought. It’d be harder for people to find him this way.

After a few minutes, the winding paths opened up into a small clearing, containing a modest wooden gazebo and a sprinkling of vibrant flowers. He took a seat inside the little structure and ran his eyes over the vegetation - besides the shadowed greens, there were blood-reds and royal purples, interspersed with brighter pinks or tiny whites. Also an abundance of brown trunks, charred black by the night. The only light came from the thin and waning moon.

With the elated saxophone of Beaker Motel’s latest song buzzing in his ears, Zvonimir settled into Twenty-One Tales of Noble Zoria, a vicious satire of modern Nerotysia which he found mostly hilarious. His phone cycled through a repertoire of jazzy pop songs as he read, and slowly the world around him fled his thoughts to make room for Zoria’s embarrassing and politically-charged antics. The plot of the book revolved around her relationship with a business tycoon named Cornelius, a dashing man with a dominant streak and a silver tongue. In addition to humiliating and subjugating Zoria, he also embezzled money and routinely subverted democracy in the cooperative he managed, which was called Fallus Incorporated. Fallus was his own last name - he considered himself among Nerotysia’s new technological elite, despite the fact that he had stolen his company’s premier product from a friend. The friend was tied up naked in his basement and occasionally got to watch Zoria and himself consummate their relationship.

“What’s that you’re reading?” The voice was definitely feminine and wholly unexpected. Zvonko nearly leapt out of his skin.

“Oh, hi. Uh, it’s called Twenty-One Tales of Noble Zoria. It’s like a - a political satire.” At this point he began to register her features. There was a pleasing kick in his gut.

“Hmm.” She was leaning against the edge of the gazebo, arms crossed. Her skirt was absurdly long, in the Kolish fashion. “Mind if I join you in here? The Hall is getting awfully stuffy.” She gestured upwards, towards the looming shadow of the Palace above.

“Um, sure. I, um, agree.” He really couldn’t keep staring directly at her eyes. It was probably terrifying. And of course his goddamn phone kept blasting the goddamn song - discreetly he muffled the earbuds against his thigh.

When there's loving in the air,
Don't fight it, just keep breathing.
I can't help myself but stare
Double check for double meanings.
I'm a man who's got very specific taste.

“I’m Karii, by the way. And whom do I have the pleasure of happening upon tonight?”

Zvonko smiled. He really needed to stop staring at her. “Um, I’m Zvonimir. Zvonimir Cindrić. But you can refer to me by the affectionate diminutive ‘Zvonko,’ madame.”

“Well then, Mr. Zvonimir - what brings you out into the gardens by yourself so early into the celebrations, hm?” She took the bench opposite him.

“I’m not really one for crowds. Or strangers.” He grinned. “What brings you out here? You seem like a proper Kolish princess.”

“Oh no, I’m nobody of note really. As for why I’m here.” She smiled, “You may have knocked into somebody I know on your way out.”

“Oh!” He matched her grin, a small blush touching his cheeks. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t you, was it?”

“No, no - It was my father. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t hear the swearing halfway down the hall.”

Finally he managed to tear his eyes away from hers, and cast them downwards at his shoes. “I can be pretty oblivious. Especially when I’m on a mission to escape some horrible situation, like a loud party. Or a dentist’s office or something.”

“Eh, parties aren’t so bad. Certainly not this sort. Believe me, I’ve been to worse.” She paused. “Who’s dragged you along to this one then, if you despise them so much?”

“My dad. Like, I’ve enjoyed traveling and exploring Kolintha and everything, but parties are generally terrible.” He shrugged. “But my dad wanted me to come. I guess sitting around the envoy’s office woulda been pretty - weird.”

“Wait - Envoy’s office? Who is your dad exactly?”

“Karlo Cindrić. We’re staying at the office because he’s, like, an important person. I don’t think foreigners would know who he was though.”

“Well, what does he do?”

“He’s the chairman of the State Progress Committee. So he handles, like, technological development. So he oversees Comicos and weapons development, and also other less-important research.”

Karii visibly recoiled, “Oh, you’re Nerotysian.”

Zvonko laughed. “Wow. Is that, like, racism?” His voice lingered on the ‘racism’ like a fat man at a donut shop.

It was her turn to blush. “I - uh - no - I mean - uh - ”

“It’s okay, I was joking. Your reaction was, uh, funny.”

“Honestly, I didn’t mean it. It’s just, surprising, is all.”

“Where are you from, then?”

As his son fraternized with the enemy, Karlo embarked on a quest to fraternize with a different enemy. Like his son he wove through the crowds of the gala, cursing under his breath every few seconds. The dancing had begun in earnest by now, and alcohol had been flowing freely since the first minute. A haze of booze and sweat began to cloak the austere building.

How have I not found these people - aha! The Allid entourage appeared before him, milling in a small group and looking for their own quarry. Karlo guessed they might be looking for Skavaru - although one of them didn’t appear to be participating. The bulging figure of Magnus Saarijärvi could not be mistaken.

Karlo stared at Magnus until the man looked his way. He tilted his head to one of the sliding screen doors that dotted the walls, and without another word forged his way to the balcony it concealed. Though he didn’t look at anyone else specifically, several members of the Nerotysian delegation had noticed his efforts. Two of them wandered close to the doors and engaged in conversation, positioning their bodies awkwardly in front of the doors. More nondescript office staff hovered farther out, throwing frequent glances towards the balcony.

Once outside, Karlo sucked in the night air, trying to calm his heart. Zsolnay had been very detailed in his warnings. “Karlo, your meeting must proceed perfectly, in almost every dimension. This is an extremely delicate initiative. Even the smallest mistake could cost both of us our careers.” And then later he sent several emails reiterating these points. Naturally.

Well, playing diplomat can’t be too hard. He carefully lowered himself onto a cushion at the balcony’s short wooden table, and waited.

by **Daeseong** » Thu May 25, 2017 5:05 pm

Eito, Kolintha
May 6th, 2017

"Sangjun-oppa", the girl in the wheelchair shouted."The ball starts in a few hours! Are you even dressed?"

Emperor Sangjun of Daeseong lay sprawled on his bed in his silken pajamas, evidently not dressed. Instead, he moaned. Though the prospect of so vast and massive a celebration would have been exciting to most young men his age, Sangjun was quite tired, frankly. He had been doing this since he was eight years old after all, after his parents had died in a tragic plane accident. He saw this celebration for what it would be - dull.

"Oppa! Please, hurry up!" the girl shouted again. She was Princess Jinseul, Sangjun's 19 year old sister. She had just come of age two months ago and was eager to prove her credentials both as a member of the royal family, and a social butterfly. She held delusions of grandeur - charming all in attendance with her youthful radiance and beauty. Granted, the young princess was the delight and pride of Daeseong, as gorgeous as the next pop-idol or actress. But little did she know that such occassions were the meetings of the powerful - they were likely to be more interested in trade deals and armaments trials than the 19 year old princess of Daeseong.

Sangjun eventually pulled himself up to a sitting position. He was only 24, but he was getting too old for this shit.

* * *

Emperor Sangjun entered the proceedings with as minimal aplomb and ceremony as possible. Ever since the regents had surrendered control of state affairs to his judgment on his 19th birthday, Sangjun had chosen to follow a path of minimalism and populist humility. He knew very well that the absolutism of old was strictly an outdated concept that had no place in modern Dae political discourse. He would adapt to the times, as he should. He would not demand his people worship him as in the past.

Therefore, wearing the traditional king's robes, Sangjun chose to let the other delegations have their moments. Dae presence was merely a longstanding formality to affirm the friendship between Dae and Kolish peoples. He understood that the Kolish monarchs would have much else to attend to. He would simply try to enjoy himself as much as possible, then. After a solemn drive in a small train of four black armored sedans flanked by Kolish police, the Dae delegation merely followed the ritual of waving to the cameras, shaking hands all around, and quickly dissipating into the crowds when it was most convenient.

Sangjun, in fact, was pushing Princess Jinseul's wheelchair, with two bodyguards standing on either side. Their black gloves, concealed derringers, and tinted aviator glasses gave them a sufficiently intimidating - but not out of place - appearance. In any case, there were few gunning for the Dae Emperor's head. Daeseong, like its Emperor, had recently chosen to follow a path of modesty, simplicity, and nonintervention. Sangjun's security advisors had assured him that there was very little to fear. And Kolish security would be tight tonight. Sangjun then concluded it would be prudent to offend their hosts with a veritable host of security forces like the Allids had.

"Sangjun," Jinseul whispered. "I'm bored. Do you think we can leave soon?"

"Just try to enjoy it," Sangjun advised, gritting his teeth. He, too, was mind-numbingly bored. But such was the burden of royalty. Though most Dae assumed his life was thrilling and luxurious, in reality, it was tragically dull. "The Kolish are our friends. Lets honor them and their traditions."

"Twenty-six hundred years...who cares?" Jinseul rolled her eyes. "I imagine I'd cry if I ever got to become that old. There's nothing worth celebrating. Traditions like these are stupid."

"Hush now!" Sangjun snapped. "I'm bored too, but I see the Ming royal family. Let's perform our duty as monarchs. I promise tomorrow, once we get home, you can go back to watching dramas and eating shaved ice. But try to work with me here." Sangjun motioned to the Ming delegation, beaming and waving slowly before moving closer. "Hello, friends! It's good to see you all in good health!"

by **The IASM** » Tue May 30, 2017 10:19 am

White Palace
Central Tenshu
Kolintha
Escar

HULANG

The Ditu was a most intrigued by the invitation he had received. What purpose would they have with us? Akai for nearly half a century now had been under strict punitive sanctions from the various members of the Commonwealth, with Kolintha leading the fray with some of the most punitive sanctions of them all. War criminals they had called his father and his accomplices in securing stability for Akai, ensuring that millions would not die in a wasteful war. Barbarians cannot truly understand us it seems. Yet despite the economic brutality of it all, Akai endured with those more prudent such as the Dae and the Khornerans realising that new gaps in a potential market just emerged. Yet despite this near admiration of his father, there was still an underlying distaste for him. Regardless he decided to avoid the flaws of a more intricate and delicate issue now and focus on what he had awaiting him.

He had brought with him a small taster of his own surprisingly large family (especially when you consider their standard practices) to accompany him, willingly or not. All were contained inside the grand luxury saloon car the Akai had brought, a Qi Haohau class, crafted in a manner so it had the same sort of reflective sliver one might find from the beautiful concept vehicles of the 1960s. Flanking them and covering their front and rear were eight armoured trucks, each containing the Lazin’s various security guards, commanded by Shi Yang Shang his sister’ Lilisi’s seven foot four inches tall Anginyguan.

Lilisi sat to his left, a Lazin princess who took after her dead mother in a variety of ways. Her eyes were a shade of rose, her features more rounded and softer than that of her siblings. Lilisi was wearing an exotic and vibrantly coloured chongshan of the shades cyan and yellow. It a modern Akai dress which was practical to wear and didn’t feel like being smothered by a thousand layers at once like most traditional wear was. Her mask covered only the upper half of her face, not unlike most masks these days for women in Lazinato. She put quite a lot of effort into her make-up, well her servants did; there was a layer of crimson lipstick which crossed her sharp lips. She was apparently described as being more rounded than the rest of the Lazins with regard to facial characteristics — being less angular than most. Her skin was pale with some reddish hues around her cheeks. She was rather athletic and inherited her mother's reasonable chest, she continued to put effort into it as she knew humans were surprisingly influenced by how one appears.

On his right next to Hulang sat Jiexiu, his twin sister. She was fairly isolated from the Ditu, being mostly kept separate like he was from Lilisi due to the various wishes of Jieke. Yet they grew up in the same hellish facility in SSJ 2000 let led very separate existences, only interacting in the rare moments when Jieke permitted it. Jiexiu was said to be a beautiful girl although hers was of the more aloof and haunting than Lilisi’s innocence. It were often said that were Hulang to grow his hair and put on a dress, the two were downright indistinguishable. While her nose was slightly more rounded and her face less sharp, the rest looked quite similar. She stood only a few inches shorter than him, making her one of the taller members of her own family. Her physique was athletic and was granted similar endowment to her mother the Dowager Dihei, being the mirror image of her in her youth. And she shared the crimson eyes of her brother, and his sharp penetrating glare which accompanied it. She was wearing a set of starkly red and white silk robes in contrast with her half-sister; it was dominated by gold floral embroidery which seemed interwoven with the fabric a fascinating degree of detail. It seemed to be connected with a veiled cosset which tightened it around Jiexiu’s figure and an elaborate piece of gold jewellery which was placed directly at the base of her neck — encrusted with hundreds of carefully cut diamond and ruby shards. Her white flesh was left exposed, with a large section of her shoulders and back visible as well as a cautiously libidinous window into her own cleavage. Her silver hair was kept up in a large section of hairpieces, plait intensely and was covered by gold jewelled pins which ran through her hair and shaped it. She looked the very image of a Lazin Princess. The contrast between Jiexiu’s ornate more traditional dress and Lilisi’s relatively simple dress was noted by the Ditu and marked the differences between them as people.

At the side of the car sat the Dowager Dihei, Hulang and Jiexiu’s deeply unpleasant mother — Tingzi Lazin. She was the she-dragon of Xungong, the matriarch of the court who now occupied its grandest position. And her appearance betrayed her nature, being a beautiful woman by many a man’s measure. She possessed an hourglass figure, one further exquantated by her impressive bosom and her well-rounded behind. Her face was like her daughter’s and to a lesser extent her son’s, although softer and slightly more rounded in its various aspects. Her mask was one excessively grandiose in nature, possessing the three vertical eyes of clan Lazin masks but was a brilliant piece of jewelled white-gold. Patterns of dragons which seemed to dance around it; with crimson and golden metals encrusting around this. This was followed with her equally imperial looking Diyi. It was a detailed piece of clothing for sure, with every square inch featuring some detailed patterns and embroidery in its silk. She had a somewhat translucent outer crimson layer of robes which encased the main piece. It was an impressive predominantly golden affair, with the majority of the details being some shade of black, white or red — Lazin colours.

Opposite to her sat the two half-brothers of Jieke and Hulang’s uncles. The eldest was Prince Marshal Qiang Lazin, a member of the Grand Conclave and quite possibly the most wrathful man in all Akai. While he remained quite personable, if a bit strict with his own men, he was a man from another time. He wore a uniform that by most foreign standards looked deeply antiquated yet still was quite modern and deeply Akai in character. It was dominated by a central chest plate which bore an ornate version of Qiang’s own sigil placed on top. This was surrounded with a pair of long robes which were dominated by a double-headed dragon. Then a litany of medals were placed on his chest, in order the majority of whom were earned through service with a few hereditary ones placed at the sides. On top of this there was a great black cloak which seemed more like an overcoat.

The other uncle was Prince-Regent Sanfu Lazin, Hulang’s dear regent. He wore the plainest clothes out of the bunch, a Yuanlingshan with his wen-sigil remaining in the centre. He was a reformist, of the sorts who were rather unpopular in Akai today. Sanfu was Qiang’s younger brother and his civilian ally in achieving their goal of undoing the legacy of his father. It brought him considerable unpopularity among the Akai, for undermining the Datong reforms of Jieke which created modern Akai.

Hulang himself was wearing the black robes of the Ditu, the dragon robes. They were a black set of silk robes which contained well hidden armour. It was typically Lazin in design. It had this tastefully decadent amount of ornate embroidery, gold coloured silk depicting the ouroboros dragon of his own wen sigil which surrounded the Lazin’s own sigil; this featuring prominently on his chest. Flowing from this were silver depictions of fiery solar patterns giving each a celestial appeal to the dragon. Combine this with the smaller sigils of the kingly clans, in awe of the Ditu seemingly. This sun which radiated across his crest contrasted deeply with the black silks which seemed to almost devour the light, with dark crimson patterns covering the piece. His shoulders were surrounded in a particularly impressive cloak which was much to his discomfort made from especially burdensome with a kevlar, carbon silk composite being the main composition of it. It was simply jet black, and covered his full-shoulder pauldron from which a medallion depicting his monogram hung. And to top it off he wore his mask, ever impervious and ethereal looking. He looked like the grandest of the Shang emperors, a king in black.

Shang on the other hand was wearing Riyeskonsu dress uniform paired with long and heavy cape which surrounded his entire body underneath. He wore a helmet combined with a rather demonic looking mask and carried his particularly large dao blade in a briefcase nearby.

Regardless as the car arrived at the palace, the various Lazin got out of the vehicle after eunuchs had arranged their exit and their guards began to flank them. Hulang led this procession and approached the palace before him.

Tengoku no Yoru [CLOSED|ORDIS ONLY]

Tengoku no Yoru [CLOSED|ORDIS ONLY]

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