Markion Lore RP Thread[MARKION ONLY-IC]

[Ekaterina-]

Bergland, Emerstari
Etschelena and Ulrik’s off campus home

Etsch opened the door to see a limousine parked on her block, still running. It wasn’t an infrequent occurrence for her in the past year, but she had yet to see one in Bergland. “I wonder who that could be,” she murmured to herself. “Ulrik, were we expecting anyone?”

“I don’t think so, honey,” he yelled from the bathroom, freshening up from training.

She noticed a familiar figure stepping out, someone she hadn’t seen in a long time, “Anastasia!? Is that you!?” Her golden blonde hair frazzled in the air as she ran down the sidewalk with her arms spread super wide for the hug of a lifetime.

Anastasia gave her longtime friend a gentle hug, so as not to ruin her hot pink satin dress that perfectly draped over her porcelain body. Her lips were put into a tight smile that had lost its warmth from when she last saw her friend.

She gave Etsch a light grip on the shoulders to examine her more closely. “Etschelena! Don’t you look…so perfectly you! It’s like you haven’t changed a bit.” Her eyes narrowed in on Etsch’s rounded cheeks. An Ekaterinian cheekbone lift might do the trick for her.

“I hear you’re the big new queen in town now,” she giggled, still in awe that her very best childhood friend was here in the flesh. “What’s new in anycase?”

Ana relaxed her shoulders slightly, taking in her friend’s bubbliness. “Well Ekaterina will be launching a new fragrance by the end of the quarter, you wouldn’t believe how exhausting that can be…” there was a lack of genuineness in her voice, something that she was very used to, but standing in front of Etsch? Felt…off.

“I mean, there really isn’t too much happening, I want to hear everything that’s been going on with you! People are quite worried.”

“Well, I can tell you! Come on inside! You’re gonna catch a cold with this maritime wind,” she grabbed Ana’s hand and started to the door.

If Ana’s nose wasn’t perfectly set, it would wrinkle at the sight of the small suburban architecture.

Ulrik was out in the kitchen making food now, “Who’s this, Etsch? This—unexpected visitor?”

“This—is Queen Anastasia of Ekaterina, better known as my oldest friend in the whole world,” she grinned ear to ear, presenting her friend as if she was a supermodel—which in a sense she was.

“Hello…..” She left a long pause for Etsch to formally introduce the name of this plain-looking man. Even though, as Queen, she already knew this man’s name.

“Ana, this is my husband, Ulrik. I pardon that he isn’t ready for a visit, he just got home from practice. Would you care to sit down?” She offered a seat on the brand new sofa—which she as a newlywed took so much pride in keeping spotless.

Ana tilted her head kindly in a nod and gracefully made her way to the couch, her dress flowing behind her, crossing her shimmering seafoam green heels, her back sitting in a virtual 90 degree angle.

“So, Ulrik, what do you practice? Violin? We’re currently looking for an extra player in the Ekaterinan Orchestra.” Her ocean blue eyes looked at the man up and down.

He chuckled heavily, “Ma’am, I’m a wrestler. It’s a graceful sport, but not that graceful.”

Her long neck tensed for a minute, nodding at this information. “Wrestling hasn’t been a popular sport in Ekaternia for quite some time now. Like you mentioned, the lack of gracefulness wouldn’t look proper for our family. But we do appreciate our surrounding nations’ zeal for it.”

His smile waned, how charmless is this girl?

Etschelena continued, “Anyways, as you’ve probably heard, I came here after my father and brother passed and finished high school. I also got married, and I’m starting college in a couple months, but that’s not even the biggest surprise.”

Dear god, I really hope she isn’t pregnant. It would be even harder to bring her back then, Ana thought, still leaving an eager smile on her face.

“I’d love to hear it!” She responded in an unnatural, high pitched voice.

“I’m pregnant! It’s a boy! I can’t wait to start a family!” She yelled out jubilantly.

shit.

“Oh my Goodness that’s wonderful Etschy!” She leaned in and gave Etsch another one of those light, almost awkward, hugs. “I know that you’re going to be a great mother. Surely you’re going to give him a great life. And we have plenty of room in Ekaterina to raise him!”

Etsch squinted for a second, “What do you mean? We have property we’re going to build on down in Ekkesburg, granted to us by the Duke himself.”

“Oh and it’ll be a very charming and quaint property I’m sure of it. But this size of lifestyle surely will outgrow your little prince you have in there. I mean, how long do you really plan on staying? Maybe you can use this place as an… I don’t know... Nice playhouse for your children?”

“You’re forgetting that I’m not rich anymore. My sister closed my trust fund and pocketed the money. Regardless, the house in Ekkesburg will be much bigger, this is just to get us through college.”

Ana chuckled off of this statement with a wave of her hand “Oh, forget about your lousy sister! She used to throw rocks at me as a child. With Ekaterinian money I can bankrupt her in an instant. You can come join the royal court with me, my family will pay for your college. Oh! And we can make your own brand of art supplies. Etsch’s Sketches. Cute, don’t you think?”

“I don’t want any of that, Ana. I have felt more loved here than I have in a long, long time. Not since—Friedek moved out of the house.”

Placing a delicate hand on top of Etsch’s, as to attempt to comfort her, Ana peered into her friend's eyes, “And you’ll find love in Ekaterina too , I’m sure of it. I have been graced with more love from the people of my nation than I know what to do with. And you can bring Erik along with you!”

He looked up now, “Excuse me, who?” He spoke to Etsch in Emerstarian from across the room in a stern tone, “If you won’t get her out of here, then I will.”

Ana actively ignored Ulrik’s statement, reaching down in her heart to gather any sort of sympathetic aura around her. “Etschy, please be sensible. Going to college on a wrestler's— or whatever he does for work’s salary? Are you sure that’s what you want for a future prince?”

She waved her hand at her husband as if to say I’ve got it, “First of all, he’s going to school to be an architect, second of all, I have zero intention to raise my son as a prince. If you came here to ridicule my way of life rather than be an actual friend, then I don’t want to see you until you can be an actual friend. Kindly, leave my home.” she pointed outwards at the door.

Anastasia instantly pulled her hand out from her friend’s, taken aback by her statement. For a moment she flashed a look of shock and sadness, but it quickly stiffened into her neutral, slight smile porcelain face she carries.

“I was hoping to come here so that you can see this once in a lifetime offer I was giving you that would ensure your own house's security. But I can see that is something you are not willing to buy.” She stood up perfectly from the couch, her shoulders back. “I truly wish the best for you, Etschelena, but if you choose a life where you do not know what trouble lies ahead of you, then I cannot stop you.” And with a curt nod, she glided out of the door.

“Good fucking riddance,” Ulrik pulled a plate from the cabinet and started serving himself to the dish he had cooked.

[Emerstari]

Bergland, Emerstari
Etschelena and Ulrik’s off campus home

Etsch opened the door to see a limousine parked on her block, still running. It wasn’t an infrequent occurrence for her in the past year, but she had yet to see one in Bergland. “I wonder who that could be,” she murmured to herself. “Ulrik, were we expecting anyone?”

“I don’t think so, honey,” he yelled from the bathroom, freshening up from training...

Fånskog Estate, Flodland, Emerstari

A swift breeze swept over the green while His Majesty took putter in hand to golf, and as he practiced his swing, an equerry some feet away, who was reading aloud the daily news, inquired, “Your Majesty, you ken the Queen of Ekaterina, no?”

“Indeed,” said the King, “I know of her.” And tapping a ball into the eighth hole, he asked, “Why?”

The equerry answered, “As it would happen, she’s come to Emerstari, and before anyone else, visited Ulrik and Etschelena at their residence in Marland.”

In a kindly manner, the King pressed him, and asked, “What are you getting at, Mr. Hrolfsson?”

Then, again, the equerry answered, “Your Majesty, I hardly thought that you’d like to be outdone in your own country, and by college kids, at that.”

“It is improper, I suppose.” And the King continued, “Why don’t you arrange a meeting, Hrolfsson? Yes, at the estate in Miþenborg, why not?”

“I’ll do that, Your Majesty,” answered Mr. Hrolfsson.

And thus continued the train, which consisted of the King, his Privy Councillors, a chaplain, and Mr. Hrolfsson, as they moved from the eighth hole onto the ninth, at which point the game carried on.

[Phoenxia]

~snip~

Mikaelssen Farm

Ulrik was long gone, and Lars the Elder had already sat the teenager down to talk. "Now, your father told me that you're in some trouble at home. Some trouble respecting your parents and sister?"

Lars nodded slowly, his eyes were still red.

"Well, I'm going to put you to good use here, and you're going to do every single thing I say. Now, I'm going to lay down some ground rules," the old man sat back in his chair, smiling as Eilina brought him tea. "The first rule is do not bring curse upon anyone. I am willing to let a dirty mouth slide if it is not used with malice and is only used where it is appropriate. The second rule is absolutely no consumption of alcohol unless I say you can. Third rule is that you don't eat until the animals do, they're just as hungry as you are.
If you follow those three rules, then you should get on fine here. Now, I am not opposed to young ladies being brought into this house, in fact I encourage it. Many marriages have been a result of such, just like Eilina and I. Would you like to hear that story, Lars?"

The teenager stared into the abyss, beyond scared still, "I—I guess, grandpa."

"It was a cold, cold night in the winter of 1981, the Perssen household didn't have enough money to keep their home heated. On the way out of practice I found Eilina sleeping in the gymnasium. So naturally, I invited her to take shelter in this home, over the next few weeks, my father had lent them enough money to keep the house heated, out of Christmas spirit. And in a couple more weeks, I had developed a courting relationship with her.”

“That’s—really sweet, grandpa. Is—is it alright if I situate myself in a room?” Lars fidgeted, shuffling around in his seat.

“Sure, you’re gonna need some good sleep for the days ahead,” he called over to Eilina now, “Dear, could you please show Lars to Rudolf’s old room?”

He laid down without even changing into pajamas. This room hadn’t changed in what looked like fourty five years, since it was occupied by his grandfather. It had an uneasily preserved smell, culminated of ancient wrestling sweat, dirty boots, and saw dust. On the wall were pictures and trophies of championships past won, and in the very far corner was a near hundred year old news clipping through the dark—Local boy, Feliks Jakob Mikaelssen sticks it to the godless communists. And with all this, it all became clear to Lars, “This is what it takes to be a champion.”

[Emerstari]

Fånskog Estate, Flodland, Emerstari

A swift breeze swept over the green while His Majesty took putter in hand to golf, and as he practiced his swing, an equerry some feet away, who was reading aloud the daily news, inquired, “Your Majesty, you ken the Queen of Ekaterina, no?”

“Indeed,” said the King...

Anastasia: Bergland, Marland, Emerstari

As Anastasia's nameless escort helped her pack for her long journey back to Ekaterina, she breathed out a disappointed, yet relieved sigh.

“Well at least I don't have to stay here much longer do I, Svet? She asked her humble PR agent.

A nervous grin washed over Svetlana’s plastic face, “Actually, the King of Emerstari caught wind of your visit and wants to arrange a meeting with you.”

Anastasia smirked slightly at this statement. Of course they know I’m here.

“That shouldn’t be an issue. Where would he like to meet? During a game of Cricket? At the Opera perhaps?”

“Hiking, m’lady”

With a wave of her gloved hand she chuckled, thinking it was one of Svetlana's quips, but she continued.

“This will be a good opportunity for you, Anastasia. Tourism Week is coming up and we need to boost sales for our mountain attraction. If people know that our glorious queen enjoys hiking -and maybe by wearing her new sporting line- people will be rushing to see our mountains.”

Anastasia nodded in agreement. “And perhaps making a new friend wouldn’t hurt…”

Erik XII Georg: Royal Lodge at Ulsfjord, Marland, Emerstari

Calm morning established herself as Erik made sense of his thoughts, writhing out of bed having done so, and kneeling alongside it thereafter. Then, blessing himself with the sign of the Cross, he spoke the words of invocation, and said, “In the name of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.” From his mouth then proceeded the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, and Luther’s morning prayer. He sought the Lord, having done the rest, and again said, “Give Thy holy angels charge of me, that the wicked one may have no power over me.” Yet as he ended his intercessions, Mr. Hrolfsson knocked, unnerving all serenity that remained.

“Might I come in, Your Majesty?” asked the equerry as though he had just a moment prior downed twelve gallons of coffee.

“Do come in,” answered Erik, much more reservedly, all the while he braced his eyes for the intense light that was to come.

Mr. Hrolfsson swung forth the door, and as his shadow flew over the King, given that he was in the midst of the light, he remarked, “How calm this morning is, no?”

“Yes, yes,” smiled Erik. “Now, if you will, tell me what it is you’ve come to say, Hrolfsson.”

The equerry smiled back, and said, “Of course, I should stall no more, as you say. I was sent by the Master of the Grounds to tell you that the Queen Anastasia is to arrive shortly, and that he humbly encourages Your Majesty to prepare himself as quickly as can be.”

“Acknowledged, Hrolfsson. I’ll see you momentarily.”

Thus the King dismissed his equerry, and made to dress himself for the occasion in true Emerstarian style, donning everything in the closet and more: A pair of brown leather brogues, socks up to his knees of the same color, and trousers that covered them, which were in a tartan pattern — the royal pattern, in fact. Then on the waist was an elaborate belt fashioned from the finest leather, upon which a golden buckle shone, and above were three layers of shirts, including one of white linen, a vest of tweed, and jacket of the same. A vast cloth, patterned as the trousers, which wrapped his shoulders, and a similarly patterned bonnet finally were put on afterwards.

Readied, he traversed the distance from his room to the driveway, and welcomed Anastasia upon her arrival, saying, “Ah, Anastasia! If I may be so bold as to call you that, of course. I should hope that all was well on your way here?”

Erik & Anastasia: Grounds of Ulsfjord Lodge

Anastasia sported her Katalnaya Collection leggings and sports bra, a tropical pattern splashed on it with her Royal house colors- a burning pink, sandy beige and seafoam green. The crisp air kissed her smooth porcelain skin without a slightest goosebump on her.

She greeted the King with a thin, cool smile. “As long as I may call you Erik, then that would be fine,” she responded smoothly. “I had no trouble at all getting here.”

“That’s good to hear,” said the King as he smiled back, and he continued, “As for my name, by all means, be my guest, and call me Erik. But anyway, would you like some time to settle in, or would you rather get on with our hike?”

“I’d like to explore your beautiful hiking trails first, if you wouldn’t mind.” She examined Eriks older features, a pang in her stomach curled slightly. The thought of her getting a single grey hair or a small wrinkle on her face made her cinge, but she managed to keep her stony smile.

“Of course. No reason to dally, no?” Erik started towards a cleared pathway, ignorant of Anastasia’s thoughts, and waved her on to follow, while saying, “In my youth, you know, I scaled one or two of those mountains far off there. Do you often make your way out to nature?”

She took a longer than usual pause before answering, choosing her words very carefully. “Ekaterina has some beautiful mountains, pristine beaches, and five star state parks. As Queen it’s my obligation to visit every one of them. But unfortunately I haven’t set any time aside to go as a leisurely activity.”

Erik considered her words and sought to sympathize. “That’s unfortunate, but duty calls, yes? That I know well. But beaches, you say. Those would be hard to find here, or at least any that are too warm, I mean.” He then said in a somewhat imperialist manner, “You’d have to go out to the colonies for those. You do seem like the type to prefer the heat over the cold, or am I mistaken about that?”

Anastasia let out a light chuckle at this statement. “I could go for either, to be honest. There is a diverse climate in Ekaterina. You would have to visit sometime. Tourism Week is not too far away, I’m sure your citizens would love to visit as well.” She had made her best attempt to walk gracefully on the trail, but was finding it difficult with the terrain.

“I might have to visit, the way you praise the country,” said Erik so as to be polite. As he responded, the trail began to grow more steep, and so he grabbed hold of a tree to help him make the way up. He met Anastasia’s chuckle with his own, “It’s getting a bit steep, isn’t it?”

Anastasia hesitated for a moment, scanning down the steeper trail. Her designer tennis shoes were made more for style rather than utility, and she held her breath slowly making her way down. Queen Anastasia was always known for her effortless grace, but she was finding it difficult to maintain that persona.

“I agree.” She huffed. “But as I heard the old saying- that's the beauty of nature” She studied Erik a bit more. Is he *trying* to make this difficult for me?

Erik steadied himself as the trail let up for a moment before it again became steep, and said, “Yes, that old saying. My grandfather used to say that everything of worth was something worth reaching for, no matter the strain, or something of that nature. I think it’s an eternal truth. But that said, if I might ask, what actually brought you to old Emerstari?”

“My visit wasn’t meant to be as public as I thought it would.” She responded lightly. “I was just visiting an old friend. Perhaps you know her- Etschelena and her husband Ulrik? I would love for her to come to my country and I visited just to…persuade her.” There was another hesitant pause, grabbing the perfect last two words.

Jokingly, the King replied, “A recruitment mission?” Then on a more serious note, he continued, “I know her indeed, and her husband, too. She’s a cousin of mine, albeit a distant cousin, whom we welcomed some time ago after a series of familial misfortunes. But when it came to me that you were here, I thought it was only proper that us two monarchs get together.”

Anastasia kept her cool face on when he made the quip, but nodded at his last remark.
“And it was a wise idea, Erik. We were bound to meet up in one way or another, and I’m happy to be here.” She swatted away a cobweb she walked into, trying her hardest not to react to what felt like millions of spiders in her hair. How long does this trail even go?

“I suppose we were bound to do so. If not, we wouldn’t be here together right now. That’s an old Emerstarian philosophy for better or worse, but regardless, I’m glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself.” Erik suddenly stopped as they reached a clearing of sorts, turning about, and looking on towards a shoreline. “There’s the lake, and what a view, if I might say so,” he said.

The cool lake breeze made Anastasia twitch, a shiver crawling up her spine. “Are your trails a popular attraction in Emerstari? It seems like quite an… active country.” She attempted to say with enthusiasm.

Erik took up a stone and threw it across the water, and as he watched it skip, he answered, smiling at Anastasia’s enthusiasm, “I should like to think they are popular, Anastasia. We Emerstarians like to enjoy that which surrounds us. They say the beauty found in nature is an image of the Divine Beauty itself.” The King quit his speaking and watched the waves rock.

Natural beauty was something that Queen Anastasia found difficult to understand. She shifted a bit at his pause, curious about his admiration for the waves.

“Divine Beauty, yes…shall we continue?” she asked almost impatiently.

“I was a navy man myself, but one can only stay on the water for so long, I suppose,” said Erik, sensing only a bit of her impatience, though he didn’t take it as being offensive yet. He thought on the beauty of the waves one last time and then took up walking again, saying, “Let’s go on, no? Onward or backward, whichever you’d like, seeing that you are the Queen.” He chuckled. “Anything else on your mind?”

Her stony smile lifted up higher at his light humor. “Onward, never backward. That is one of Ekaterina’s philosophies.” She put her hands behind her back, turning away from the lake and continuing her trail.

“I think you and I will get along just fine, Erik. I think I’ll have my PR team send you a care package before I leave today. As I said before, I really hope you and your citizens visit for Tourism Week, especially Etsch.”

He nodded in a happy manner at her offer of friendship. Then he asked, “Leaving so soon? A short visit, but you’re much busier than I, I’m sure, what with this Tourism Week. I might have to see what all this fuss is about, and maybe with Etschelena as well. We haven’t got a Tourism Week, but you’re welcome to come again for Christmas or something like that.”

“Christmas, yes! Shops opening up, people buying gifts for each other...black friday deals. I deeply admire Christmas.” Her voice lifted higher, thinking about all the Ekaterinan products she could sell. “Sounds like a wonderful idea.”

Erik smirked at their differences. “Yes, Christmas,” he said, “such a marvelous time of the year. Hope, love, goodwill, and all the rest. The stories and hymns, the services, and the beautiful scenery, no? We’ll have a grand time, I think.” He continued along the trail, and said, “The snow can become tiresome, but the children love it so, as I did myself. There’s actually snow right here if you go up high enough.”

“Sounds like an idea I will absolutely have to tell my PR team about.” Her previous bubbliness from when before she was a Queen slipped out a bit, but with a cough she held herself back into her shining, model form.

“Look there,” blurted Erik in a whispery voice, as he pointed towards a bear, which was pawing at a stream. “What a creature. Do you see it?”

Anastasia released a gasp of awe. “What beautiful fur!” Would look lovely in a winter coat.

Erik likewise looked on in awe. “Yes, and a handsome fellow, too. Though, you know, we’d best keep our distance. Such a beast has taken out at least one or two Emerstarian kings in the past, who tried to take it out.” He began walking down another path.

Anastasia remained perfectly quiet, thinking that any noise might disturb the bear. The amount of walking she had done today was longer than what she was used to, and she was surprised to find sweat droplets rolling down her temples.

Once they were out of the line of sight from the bear, Anastasia huffed out a sentence “It’s been a lovely time, but I’m curious to how long this path goes for?”

“You know what,” said the King, “I myself am curious about that. You could probably circle round about these for weeks. But if you’re ready to head in, I’ll follow. I’ll say that my legs are getting a bit weary of it all.” Erik glanced back, and paused, waiting for her response. He also took off his maud and wrapped it up, growing a bit warm.

“Onward, not backward!” She repeated in a lighthearted quip, gracefully walking ahead of him.

Erik let out a breath and caught up with her. “You’re a quick one, I’ll give you that. If I were a betting man, I’d say you’d walk all the way back to Ekaterina from here, and at that, without a single break.”

“I would walk five thousand miles for Ekaterina.” She said curtly. “There's almost nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

“You’re a valiant one, too. It seems like we’ve got just about five thousand more miles to go to get back to the lodge.” Erik smiled slightly, looking down the trail.

Erik’s Thoughts

“She’s a curious one,” asserted Erik, while he walked into his study, setting aside his maud and bonnet.

A secretary and friend, Avrahim Yohanan, then asked, “Who might she be?” Avrahim was a man of noble birth from the western colonies, who had some years ago come to Emerstari on request of the Crown — an olive-skinned man distinguished by a large beard and features darker than anyone else in the country. He turned from the papers strewn about the desk, and awaited an answer from the King.

Erik replied, “Anastasia, the Ekaterinian queen. The one whom I met today, with whom I hiked, no?”

“Yes,” said Avrahim, “I know the one.” He stood, adjusting his own maud, and then continued, “What makes her curious?”

“Ah, well, she’s the most business-minded lady you’ll ever meet, I tell you. Should I say even a CEO more than a monarch? Indeed, she spoke more of her country than she ever did of herself. Then again, I suppose that’s what a monarch must do from time to time. But I don’t mean to berate her only. Anastasia is quite a smart girl and a spirited one, too. Dare I say also a winsome lass, though one who could have certainly covered up, given our circumstances.”

“Then was it a good meeting overall?” asked Avrahim.

Erik answered, “I suppose it was, and come Christmas, we’ll meet again, it seems.”

Anastasia’s Thoughts

When Anastasia entered her Emerstarian lodge, her legs were thumping from the amount of exercise she’s done. Her PR agent had greeted her at the door, but her eyes suddenly brightened in horror once she saw Ana enter.

Svetlana looked at her, her eyes widened in shock. “Oh my Queen! Are you alright?” She had a terrible concern for her voice, like she had just seen a dog get run over.

“Hm? Oh yes I’m quite fine Svetlana. The meeting went quite well I believe.” Anastasia strode through the door, her legs feeling like jello.

“But my dear, your face is pink!” Svetlana grabbed a tissue from her purse, attempting to dab the moisture she saw on Anastasia's face.

Ana brushed her off again. “Everything is alright Svet.” She emphasised, “Would you mind giving me some water? Oh! And a pen and paper. I have some new ideas I might want to write down.”

Natural Beauty… has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

[Christbol]

snip

ChristBol, Weltholm, Upper Town

Weltholm for as long as it could remember has been divided between an Upper City and a Lower City. The Upper City in times since past would usually house the city's clergy and, in more dire times, the nobility, being that the Upper Town is situated on top of hills adjacent to a large mountain chain from it's back and guarded by a large river flowing between it and the Lower City, it made for an ideal defensive position. As such, great walls have been built in the city's past to hinder and deter any possible invaders between it and the Lower City. Today however, it serves a much more daunting task: making room for the country's extensive political scene, as well as providing space for the state's many administrative buildings.

Weltholm had originally not been used to serving as the whole country's capital, but in the decades since the decision to choose it, it had grown into a bit of a modern metropolis. What little housing space used to be reserved for the Upper City now lies expanded in all sides, with many of the Lower City now choosing to move to the Upper City due to it's reputation as the political and cultural driving force of not only the whole city but the whole country. No shortage of coffee houses, no shortage of museums and definitely no shortage of political bickering concern the Upper City. If the Lower City is the beating heart of Weltholm with it's many industrial, logistical and research hubs, the Upper City would be it's brain, with the various windy roads and trolley station constantly moving up and down the intricate sets of hills between them the spine.

In one of the Upper City's many high rises, more specifically the one overlooking the Holy Assembly, many ChristBol political figures resided within. One of such politicians was the head of state himself; the Earthly Voice, Jüri Annor.

One might ask why does a political figure like Jüri, and in extent any other political figure in the country, not own some ravenous housing fit for a king. The answer would simply boil down to the days of the civil war, when overbloated Siniset Paidat spending budgets and "living condition bills" allowed houses of the greedy and powerful to extend and enlarge, taking up valuable room in the Upper City and looking like an eyesore while doing so. Since those days, it has just been decided that politicians simply live in what they can afford, and the Earthly Voice's monthly salary doesn't exactly offer a spending budget which is all that compelling. Since the days of his great grandfather, it's been decided that much of the salaries Siniset Paidat politicians used to accept would be of better use for projects regarding to feeding the poor, investing into infrastructure projects, improving working conditions or simply just all of the above at once.

Even if it did, Jüri would likely not care. He was never one about caring for house size. For very long he had considered to bring in a woman's touch into his household, maybe even move with her someplace nicer, but for the time being a kitchen, a bathroom, a comfy living room and a comfy bedroom stretched across about a 60 meter square apartment are enough to satisfy his desires for living space. The Minister of Internal Affairs living just a few floors above him had offered Jüri his 150 meter square apartment saying the Earthly Voice should at least have the roomiest housing in the building, but Jüri was a man who saw humility as a great virtue, among much less need for space compared to the minister and his family.

One evening returning from the Holy Assembly, taking the elevator to his 25th floor apartment and resting on the couch in front of the large television consuming most of the living rooms limited wall space, Jüri turns on the TV to channel hop, a part of his usual Saturday evening rituals.

"One more total nuclear annihilation threat from Arcadia? Put it next to the other ones..." - Jüri switches channel, taking a swig of beer he took from his fridge before sitting down - "...Oil companies achieving record profits in ChristBol... good. That trade deal with Tyria seemed to be a good call." - Jüri switches channel - "Political instability in Phoenixia? What else is new..." - Jüri switches channel, pausing at it but not speaking for a long while. It appears it is talking about Queen Anastasia's hiking trip with the Emerstari King, Erik XII. Jüri takes a swig beer before talking to himself again, watching the program list some context behind the Queen's visit and a few backdrops of Ekaterina, featuring some facts about the country as well, including the mention of some Ekaterian tradition called "Tourist Week" - "...Fairytale paradise and a Queen to boot, huh..." - Jüri never liked pompous royalty, and because of this thoughts began racing to his head about all of the headaches to royal life... as well as royal headaches. In a moment of realization, it just occurs to him that he has yet to reaffirm his invitation to King Erik's Christmas celebrations this year, which he remembered some Emerstari diplomat at their embassy suggesting earlier this year on account of the relations warming up. Was he stepping out of line in suggesting something without explicit approval of the King himself? Possibly, but just like interior decorating, Jüri doesn't really care. He turns the TV off following about one more hour of programming before calling it a day for today.

The next day...
The following morning, Jüri shows up to the Holy Assembly, stopping by his secretary and exclaiming - "Get me the Emerstari ambassador, I wish to make arrangements for Christmas celebrations with his King. Also tell him I'll be waiting for his response in my meeting room." - Jüri speeds off to the large, ornate doors keeping the entrance to the meeting room closed and opens them, entering the room and closing the doors behind him, off to make use of the liquor cabinet inside.

[Phoenxia]

Vietschen

The skyline glimmered in the reflection of the sun, the weather was far better here than in Kassau. The ride was quiet, any conversation he attempted to make had quickly dried out, because she was paying more attention to her phone. “Oh, we’re here,” she looked up and smiled for the first time in hours. “What do you want to do first?”
“I thought you were the ultimate tour guide here!” Danial said jokingly. “But perhaps something for lunch could be in order?” He said

“I know some places. Is there anything in particular that you want?” she re-did her hair into a tight bun.

“Whatever… I am just hungry. I feel like I haven't eaten anything since last week!” He said sarcastically trying to cover up that fact that he had yet to figure out what her favorite things were.

“Maybe something hearty. Have you ever tried Vietian food?”

“No, I don't think I have yet but I would love to!”

“You’re gonna have to wait for food, though. I’m going to get you dressing like a real Phoenixian,” she giggled.

“Oh… Should I be worried?” He said jokingly

“It beats the yacht club aesthetic. I’ll say that.”

“I am not that preppy…” He paused, “It kind of comes with the territory though I guess”

“Okay, Mr. Show Them Daddy’s Toys,” she sarcastically jeered. “Come on, our first stop is here,” the car stopped at a storefront, and she stepped out. The store wasn’t by any mens high profile designer, its clothes looked pretty damn good in their own way, though.

“Ok… Ok… Lets see what they have to offer then.” He said

“Those jeans would look cute on you,” she pointed over at a pair of classic fit blue jeans and snickered.

“Are you trying to make me look like some kind of bogan?” he scoffed.

“First of all what the hell does that mean and second of all I said I would make you look like a Phoenixian man. That’s what the Korajevas wear.”

“A Bogan is like a redneck…” he said looking through the assortment of jeans before finding a pair that would fit. “But I guess they are alright…”

“Now some shirts. What kind of thing are you going for? Do you want to wear a button up or a t-shirt?”

“I mean… I would prefer a t-shirt but a button down would be fine.”

“I think you’d do better with t-shirts. Pick some out if you want new ones. I’d also suggest a good belt.”

“I do need a better belt,” he said as he picked some t-shirts off of the shelf, “Oh did I tell you what my father said when he called?”

“Do tell,” she looked up from her phone.

“He said he wants me to stay here as some form of Ambassador… I’m not really sure if it entails anything, but I will talk to someone tomorrow and figure that out but I guess he signed me up to stay here indefinitely,” He said laughing, “seems like he figured out how to get rid of me finally.”

Greta knew exactly what it entailed. They were using him as a pawn, and he was her pawn at the same time. “Well, I sure am glad that you’re staying here.”

“Well that makes me feel better… I do wonder what he wants me to do here when he has a staff of more competent people to do this… and if anything your the face of Phoenixia.” He said blushing a little bit.

“Maybe it’s fate,” she faked a blush.

“You might be right… Although my gut tells me that my father finally found the furthest place he can assign me to,” He said laughing.

“And you can stay in my room as long as you like,” she giggled and grabbed his hand as they walked to the checkout.

“Well that might make it a much more enjoyable experience,” He said laughing.

(Made with Seve)

[Arcadian States and Commonwealths]

Oceania, UCSO
Ambassador Franz Grünberg

Franz sat at the table while ambassadors from the nations of ASAF met in the city of Oceania, a small 'suburb' so to say outside the UCSO's capital. The local government has been eyeing even closer ties to the Arcadian government and her allies. With the recent attacks on civilian shipping, and the situation in the September Islands many in the country feared that war would soon arrive at their doorsteps. Two months ago they began to look into ASAF membership and now the alliance and the UCSO have both agreed on their entry. Franz sat at the table with the 12 other men with headphones in his ears translating everything the Oceanic ambassador said. When the agreement was reached the AAF was authorized for three more bases for the Army, four for the navy, and 1 for the Air Corps while one of the naval bases would also house a runway.

[Emerstari]

Ecumenical Dialogue in Sælle
Kronbø Kronike

Yesterday afternoon the streets of Sælle echoed with the chimes of church bells as Emerstarian and Catholic clergy alike gathered inside of St. Olof’s Cathedral, and there inaugurated the coming ecumenical dialogue. Fifty-two were present on behalf of the Church of Emerstari, including nineteen archbishops, twenty-four bishops, six priests, and three deacons; and thirty-seven were present on behalf of the Catholic Church, including three archbishops and thirty-four bishops. The M. Rev. Rudolph Dulsche, Archb. of Ultt, headed the Catholic delegation, and the M. Rev. Søren Frederiksson, Archb. of Sælle, the Emerstarian. Other persons of note in attendance were T.R.M. the King, the Queen, and the Prince of His Right Hand; T.E. the Dukes of Hvenland, of Marland, and of Erk; and the H. Earl of Låssa.

About 12:30 PM, as attendees were assembling, a man was detained by local police for reasons yet unknown. Witnesses suggest that he was a self-proclaimed prophet, who had been threatening violence against the “house of heretics.” The Crown, Duchies, Constabulary, and Churches, have declined to make statements.

The inaugural meeting consisted of shared prayers and blessings, and a dinner arranged by the Crown. At least twelve additional meetings are scheduled for the next two years for the discussion of various matters of faith, among which are justification, baptism, and the Eucharist. Further discussion may occur on matters of ordination and ministry. The M. Rev. Harald Pettersson, Archb. of Ekkesburg, said in his opening speech, “My heart’s foremost desire and my spirit’s sincerest prayer is that these discussions will bring forth greater understanding and unity between our two traditions.” The M. Rev. Armaud Lavigne, Bp. of Arseille, said afterwards, “Archbishop Pettersson speaks for me, and I hope in what he said that he speaks for the rest also.”

[Ekaterina-]

Fyrøfjel Estate
2026

Etschelena and Greta played on the carpet, the sun from the ocean shone through the grand cottage window. Friedek was out reading on the porch alongside his fiancé, Ingrid. The quiet was broken by the grandeur doorbell, and the young girls stormed over to see who it could be.

Ana shifted uncomfortably in her scratchy pink dress, the excitement of meeting her friend buzzing at her heels. Her parents, Zoya and Peter Milova were by her side in traditional Ekaterinian colors, both sporting mint green, hot pink, and sandy yellow tropical shirts- the latest summer line. Envy rushed in Anastasia's cheeks as she scratched once again at her pink dress.

Etsch’s face lit up at the sight of Ana, who she hadn’t seen since her last birthday. She closed the gap in a fraction of a second reaching for a hug. “How are you!” she gleefully remarked.

With her heart eagerly jumping to her throat, Anastasia pounced into Etsch’s arms, hugging her back tightly. “ETSCHHH!!!!” She screamed gleefully into her friend’s ears. “I missed you soooooo much!!!” Her parents beamed a warm smile to Etschelena and Greta.

Friedek made his way inside to greet the Ekaterinans, he had been working on his tan. “Greetings, Peter, Zoya,” He nodded to each of them. “Mom and Dad are out at the store right now, so feel free to make yourselves at home.”

“Of course, Friedek!” Peter boomed, falling into an eastern dialect of Phoenixian. “I heard that you and Ingrid finally took the big leap! Felicitacije!”

Zoya kept a tight smile, putting the tray of food in her hands into the kitchen as her husband spoke.

“Oh, Gratež, sir. It’s no time to celebrate yet, though. We still have to get married.” he turned around as fast as he could before he lost his place in the book he was reading outside, a memoir on the horrors of the collectivist coup d’état.

Peter gave a warm yet awkward chuckle before meeting his wife in the kitchen, helping prepare for tonight's barbeque.
The living room sat quiet again as Peter’s booming presence had left them. Anastasia’s attention was swiftly to the carpet, seeing the remains of a toy house and dolls scattered across.

“Oooh!” She exclaimed, her fluffy dress plopping onto the ground. “I brought my Queen Sonya doll!”

“Why would the Queen be at Barbie Malibu house?” Greta picked up a doll and started acting it to walk.

“Because she’s doing a press tour, duh!!” She giggled as she grabbed a small toy brush.

“Mom and Dad do press tours sometimes, that’s when either Friedek or Mr. Dracarić takes care of us,” Etschelena played around with the outfits on her doll.

Anastasia let out a large sigh, staring at her Sonya doll. “Press tours sound boooring. My Queen Sonya just wants to party!” She waved her doll all through the Barbie Malibu house, chaotically knocking over the small plastic furniture and pretending to swim in the pool.

“Do you wanna go down to the beach?” Etschelena quipped, looking intently at the dark blue waves outside.

Anastasisa nodded like an eager puppy dog, springing up from her seat. “I’ll race ya!”

They ran out the door past the sunbathing couple, Greta trailing behind them. Friedek sighed and stood up, having to make sure they didn’t drown, “Do you want to come with me, honey?”

Ingrid semi-unenthusiastically rolled her eyes through her oval glasses, “Alright, I was really relaxed, though.”

Anastasia's feet kicked sand from under her as she hurdled to the vast ocean, her bright pink dress turning heavy and a few shades darker in the water. Etsch and Greta were too afraid of the consequences to go in the water with their brand new sundresses.


Some time had passed as Peter Milova made his social rounds to the other guests at the party, Zoya’s white smile beaming by his side. Seeing some old colleagues felt good to Peter, but there was a small group of people also in Ekaterinan clothing approaching the picnic tables. His brows furrowed at this, motioning to Zoya in that direction.

“Relatives of yours?” He asked in a low tone.

Zoya had turned her head and reflected Peter’s confused expression. “I don’t believe so.”

The couple approached the taller gentleman of the group, his eyes widening in recognition as he spoke directly to Zoya.

“Hello Zoya Milova, we’re looking for your daughter Anastasia. Do you know where we may find her?”

The nervous energy that Zoya had carried radiated with excitement throughout her body, eager to show off her daughter- practically a young version of herself.

“Oh yes! She’s actually—” As she whipped around to the ocean her heart sank once more, seeing Anastasia in her sopping pink sundress with her legs covered in dark brown sand. Her eyes motioned to Friedek.

He nodded and started walking down, “Anastasia! There are some very important people who would like to see you! Come now.”

“But I haven’t even finished building my sand palace!” Anastasia pouted.

“Ana, they’re from the Queen I think,” he waved his hand. “Impressions are important.”

Anastasia had perked up as soon as she heard the word “Queen” and whipped her head towards Etsch.

Etsch looked as her older brother took Ana’s hand and began walking towards the very official looking envoy of Ekaterinans. She couldn’t read their lips from a distance, but soon enough they walked entirely out of view and the party resumed.

[The JVP]

To: Federal Department of Foreign Affairs and The Imperial Seveillian Airforce
From: The JVP Office of Foreign Affairs

Subject: The Purchase of Airbase on Javier Island, Urilas

Greetings

The JVP would like to inquire about the purchase of the air base on the Island of Javier, along with some land around it.

Due to the ongoing crisis on September island, and the lack of medical facilities, the JVP would like to purchase the land, and set up hospitals to treat the people of SI.

This land, in combination with the Hospital ship already in transit.

We look forward to hearing back and working with you on future matters.

Shi-Ra, Foreign Affairs

[Phoenxia]

Special Report: Four Freed, Two Dead, Seven Arrested in Connection with Phoenixian Mob

[blocktext][align=justify]Lorens M. Frederiksson, 2 June 2035, Riborg Register

Rogaland, 23h15

The upper family had instructed the Perssen outfit to carry out this raid, the sheriff was well known to fill out his paperwork late into the night. Heading the raid was Tiko Perssen, whose parents came from Phoenixia, rather, his father came from Phoenixia as a gangster in the early 2000's to escape conscription.

The Hanssens generally weren't ones to go after law enforcement, but this bastard cost them the potentially tens of thousands of marks it would cost to get each girl into the home country, along with the lost revenue. The order came from Big Jos himself to kill the sheriff in a dramatic fashion, to show that the family wasn't willing to back down from a fight.

"Masks on, now. I don’t want them seeing even a trace of our faces, because this is most definitely going to start a manhunt," Tiko pulled a balaclava over his face and prepared for action.

Inside the Sheriff’s Department, and in the apparent safety of his office, Folke Holmkvist, that hometown hero, reclined with feet on desk; and having stamped and filed away what paperwork the night had held for him, the old sheriff turned to and read by the flicker of a dying light what from youth he could recite from memory: namely, The Misadventures of A. L. Langtån, an old Emerstarian tale of a castaway who was unknowingly stranded in his own country.

The story was by all accounts a favorite of the sheriff, and he enjoyed thumbing its pages on such nights as the present — nights marked by their calm. In truth, most nights in Rogaland had been such nights before the late emergence of the Hanssens, whose diabolic crimes held back Holmkvist from his planned retirement — a retirement to a life of calm nights of reclining and reading, but that on his own porch! Yet he would not leave his deputies to strive with the Hanssens alone.

Though he was now alone, and left without his deputies to lock up for the night; but as he stood and slowly sauntered past the window, a peculiar shine from outside caught the corner of his eye. Then immediately, as glass shattered, he hit the ground with a bruising thud, and was engulfed by pain. “Show yourselves!” he bellowed. “You bastards, show yourselves!” And he grabbed his pistol, but the outcome, he was sure, had already been decided.

Tiko and his men began opening up on the window, the sheriff let off sporadic gunfire in his hysterical fit of pain from getting hit. When the gunfire paused, he and three other men climbed through the broken opening. They found their way around his desk quickly enough to catch him by surprise.

He kicked the sheriff's emptied pistol out of his hand, and picked him up by his shirt collar. In a broken Emerstarian, he assumed a foreboding tone, "Never fuck with the Hanssens. Do you know how much you cost us? We were willing to play along with your game of cat and mouse, but you showed no mercy on our boys. It's an eye for an eye in this world, and in this case a life for a life." He threw him to the ground and shot him between the eyes. "Let's get out of here."

Made in association with Emerstari

[Emerstari]

Rogaland, 23h15

The upper family had instructed the Perssen outfit to carry out this raid, the sheriff was well known to fill out his paperwork late into the night. Heading the raid was Tiko Perssen, whose parents came from Phoenixia, rather, his father came from Phoenixia as a gangster in the early 2000's to escape conscription.

Gardens of Miþenborg Palace

Erik sat in conference with Barnabas Lejonhofvud, Duke of Hvenland, and Theodor Strand, Duke of Østerland; and a number of other men of lesser import sat with them. The recent murder of Sheriff Holmkvist by the Hanssens had happened in rural Hvenland, for which reason Barnabas was present; yet up to that point the Hanssen Crime Family had been operating primarily out of Erk, the cosmopolitan city of Østerland, for which reason Theodor was present.

Erik said, “Brethren, you all know as well as I what a mockery the Hanssens are making of us. I’ve had enough of it. They've spread out from Erk, Theodor, and murdered your sheriff, Barnabas. I'll have no more of it. The Duke of Malmå is already enacting my decree, but that can only do so much, and it won’t speak to the Hanssens — only to their underlings who have any amount of sense left. What can be done abroad? What can be done with Phoenixia?”

“Send someone there,” said Oskar Tjolbørn, a man in the Office of Foreign Affairs, “and hold the hand of the Phoenixians. Your Majesty, send one of the Princes of the Hand.”

Erik asked rather confusedly, “You think I should send one of my sons to Phoenixia? We have diplomats there already. Why not one of them?”

Oskar answered, “We have diplomats indeed, and God had prophets, but ‘in the last days He has spoken to us by a Son, whom He appointed the heir of all things.’ I only quote the Blessed Apostle.”

The Royal Chaplain nodded with approval, and Erik’s hesitancy seemed to relent.

“Then let us send someone,” said Erik. “I’ll tell my son, Karl, and Tjolbørn, you will be in charge of the matter. Prepare everything for him and inform the government of Phoenixia.”

Chamber of the House of Lords

The following day, as the Lords were assembled, the representatives of the people being in audience, the Duke of Malmå began to read the King's decree, when all formalities of opening a session were finished and some preliminary matters had been dealt with. This act symbolized the issuing of the decree from the King through his peers to the people of Emerstari, though in fact it had been in force since that moment when it was signed.

Importantly, the decree made it illegal to be part of the Hanssen Crime Family and to knowingly engage in business with them. While offenders may be prosecuted by local courts for any crimes against the local community, prosecution for this offense would be in the hands of the Crown, which, at the pleasure of the King, could make use of capital punishment. Similar measures had been taken against secret societies in centuries past but sat unenforced in modernity.

Kassau International Airport

Prince Karl Ingmar looked out his window as the plane began its descent towards the Kassau International Airport. He loved his father very much but was not at all pleased to be sent to Phoenixia to deal with a murderous crime family. “At least,” he thought, “Oskar,” the man whose idea it was to go, “has been sent with me.” The prince thought again, “If we’re taken out, at least we can be taken out together.” Then he said aloud, “Oskar, what did you say to my father to get me here?”

Oskar replied, “I quoted Hebrews. ‘In the last days He has spoken to us by a Son, whom He appointed the heir of all things.’”

"But was that Son, our Lord, not crucified for speaking the words of His Father?" asked Karl.

Oskar answered, “Was He not raised?” The plane slowed down as it travelled the runway. “‘Though He was in the form of God, He did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied Himself and took the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.’ Let's empty ourselves as this plane descends and get on with it. It'll be over sooner that way, and we can get out of this country — maybe stop by the Golden Coast, when the plane ascends and rises again.”

Karl sighed, “Let’s do it.” The doors opened, and a number of agents, security and otherwise, passed them to exit first.

[Emerstari]

Our Beloved Jüri Annor:

His Majesty the King greets you, his fellow sovereign, and kindly wishes the people of Christbol a blessed season of Advent. He extends his hand in friendship and invites you and your family to join him and his house at the royal gathering at Midenborg Palace in Emerstari this Christmas. Your presence as an esteemed guest would be most appreciated, and your reply is eagerly awaited.

I, Mikhael Shimun Erik, as the King’s own representative and your near neighbor in Esurland have composed this invitation on his words.

He prays for your good fortune.

[Christbol]

Our Beloved Jüri Annor:

His Majesty the King greets you, his fellow sovereign, and kindly wishes the people of Christbol a blessed season of Advent. He extends his hand in friendship and invites you and your family to join him and his house at the royal gathering at Midenborg Palace in Emerstari this Christmas. Your presence as an esteemed guest would be most appreciated, and your reply is eagerly awaited.

I, Mikhael Shimun Erik, as the King’s own representative and your near neighbor in Esurland have composed this invitation on his words.

He prays for your good fortune.

ChristBol, Weltholm, Upper Town
It is unusual of Jüri to drink coffee in the morning. In fact, coffee is something Jüri almost never drinks regardless of the time of day. Today however, with the arrival of a cordial invitation by the Emerstarian King's representative to join the Emerstarian royal family on Christmas, Jüri felt the need for some caffeine in order to gain clarity on his next decision: to join the royal family for Christmas or not to join the royal family for Christmas?

He decides to start deciphering whether the situation sounds logical: Emerstari has been a pleasant diplomatic tie, even if most interactions have been more in the realm of formal rather than warm or friendly. Spending a much celebrated Christian holiday with Emerstari's royalty might finally allow for the push into something more than just a polite exchange of the usual diplomatic banter that Jüri has been stuck on, ever since Emerstari annuled his great grandfathers debt some time ago. Furthermore, ChristBol's citizens are quite fond of Emerstari: true, before ChristBol was even a thing, it's predecessor state used to be a colonial holding of Emerstari, and while the Emerstari did have a habit of putting their own in positions of power instead of the expelled minorities that built a new life here, they were by no means unfair. Independence wasn't bloody, the civil war didn't surface any war crimes on Emerstarian citizens and Jüri's great grandfather, either in an act of miraculous foresight or an act of knowing that Emerstari would not be a force to anger at the time, chose to also sponsor the Emerstarians which planned to leave ChristBol on grounds of political differences.

The downside in visiting the royal family comes from the fact that there is a limit on how much the average citizens faith in pragmatism there is and that limit ends on interaction with aristocrats: simply put, they are everything that ChristBol in theory stands against; while the state is officially a monarchy under Jesus Christ, nobody is quick to accept average men as superiors in class on any basis. True, the Emerstarian royalty is at least much more humble than one other in Ekaterina which Jüri cannot think about without feeling the need to vomit his coffee, but would that be enough to convince the population? Worse yet, how would the Emerstarian citizens react to Jüri's presence in Emerstari? They're hardly staunch supporters of capitalism, but putting himself in the shoes of an Emerstari citizen Jüri cannot find any emotions other than confusion or anger that might capture the feeling of a Emerstarian seeing a socialist leader showing up to celebrate with the royal family.

After another few moments of sitting in silence (and after pouring himself another cup of coffee with milk, just the way he likes it), he turns over to the coat hanger at the corner of the apartment next to the entrance door and declares, while staring at one of the coats which clearly looks more worn than the others -

"Well dad, it would appear we're going on a trip to thank the man who settled great grandpas debt."

He finishes his coffee, grabs the coat he was just speaking to and rushes out of his apartment to let the Emerstarian delegates know the King should be expecting him.

[Emerstari]

Our Dear Friend, Her Majesty the Queen:

His Majesty the King greets you and kindly wishes you and all Ekaterina a happy season this last stretch of the year. He remembers your visit with much fondness and would be pleased to have your company once again, as a fellow monarch and beloved friend; and so he invites you to join him and his house at their gathering at Midenborg Palace in Emerstari this Christmas. Your reply is eagerly awaited.

I, Avrahim Eshai, M. of Sarhu, Gent. of the Stool, R.L.O., composed this invitation on HM the King’s words.

He prays for your good fortune.

Most Cherished Friends, Mr. and Mrs. Ulrik Mikaelssen:

His Majesty the King gives you his warmest regards this wintrous season and hopes all is well at home. He embraces and kisses you with the kiss of Sts. Peter and Paul, and rejoices at the birth of your son, little Lars Frederik, whose coming into the world he learned of just last night, the Twentieth. The gift of a child is a gift of God, he says; and he prays for your blossoming family with Her Majesty the Queen.

HM the King invites you to join him and his house at the royal gathering at Midenborg Palace this Christmas. Your presence as his most cherished and beloved friends and family would be greatly valued, and your reply is eagerly awaited.

I, Avrahim Eshai, M. Sarhu & G. Stool, R.L.O, who composed and penned this letter on HM t. K’s words, send my regards also.

JSKS

Midenborg Palace Grounds

Erik walked, leash in hand, and watched his dog, a Hventen retriever, trot to and fro as his friend and right-hand man, Avrahim, read to him a communication from the legate in Christbol: “Annor received the invitation. Says the Palace should expect him.”

“Excellent,” said Erik. “What of Anastasia and the Mikaelssens?”

Avrahim said, “No reply yet from either of them, but they are sure to send us something soon.”

[Phoenxia]

~snip~

Bergland

The storm blew strong through the streets of bergland, the forecast said it had reached -40. In the home of Ulrik and Etschelena, they both sat on the new sofa watching the Sunday night Phoenixian wrestling duals, the last ones of the year before Christmas. Ulrik was far more invested in the programming than Etschelena was, as she was more focused on the cherishing of their newborn Lars.

A sudden knock at the door interrupted the bliss. Ulrik stood up and walked to answer it, it was the postal clerk with a single letter of mail, "It's from the king, from what it looks like," he shivered and handed it into the doorway.

Ulrik gingerly took it, "Thanks. Stay warm, and Merry Christmas." He went and sat back down on the sofa, "Let's give this a read," he cracked the seal with his thumb, "It's handwritten."

He cleared his throat,

Most Cherished Friends, Mr. and Mrs. Ulrik Mikaelssen:

His Majesty the King gives you his warmest regards this wintrous season and hopes all is well at home. He embraces and kisses you with the kiss of Sts. Peter and Paul, and rejoices at the birth of your son, little Lars Frederik, whose coming into the world he learned of just last night, the Twentieth. The gift of a child is a gift of God, he says; and he prays for your blossoming family with Her Majesty the Queen.

HM the King invites you to join him and his house at the royal gathering at Midenborg Palace this Christmas. Your presence as his most cherished and beloved friends and family would be greatly valued, and your reply is eagerly awaited.

I, Avrahim Eshai, M. Sarhu & G. Stool, R.L.O, who composed and penned this letter on HM t. K’s words, send my regards also.

JSKS

"Do you think it'll offend my grandparents if we don't go down to Ekkesburg?" he asked unassuredly.

"I'm sure they'll understand. This would be my first Christmas with family by blood in two years."

"It's taken you this long to get homesick?" he joked, but her face was unequivocally serious.

"Ulrik, you know how much this means to me," she put her hand which wasn't holding the baby upon his.

"Yeah, honey. I was just joking. What do you think the best way to rsvp to the king would be?"

"I can try and call him," she pulled out her phone and started ringing.

[Ekaterina-]

“You’re not actually thinking about going to this, are you?” Svetlanas voice muffled in Anastasias ears, flipping the invitation over within her hands.





“Why not? Seems like a perfectly harmless invitation to me?” Ana responded, a distant look in her eye as she gazed out of the kingdom windows.



“Read it again” Svetlanta placed the parchment in Anastasia's gloved hands, snapping her attention back. “It’s filled with religious symbolism. Ekaterina has remained religiously neutral since Queen Kira. Do you have any idea what kind of message this will send?”



Anastasia chuckled lightly at her advisor's nervous tone. “Svet, since my last meeting with Erik, how have the athletic sales been doing?”



“Tremendously, your majesty.” She reluctantly responded.



“Exactly. And how are novelty gift sales doing this time of year?”



“Very well, your majesty but- “



“Svetlana it’s going to be fine just have the PR team only see me go in and out of the building and I’ll handle it from there.”



“Yes, your majesty” Svetlana said with gritted teeth, turning to leave.



“Oh and, Svet? Don't forget to send an RSVP gift basket.”



Anastasias eyes glazed over the paper once more, a delicate finger tracing over the words beloved friend


Now that was a word she hadn't seen in a while.

[Emerstari]

"Arseny-Kazikov, Ekaterina, and the JVP have replied to us in the affirmative," said Avrahim to Erik.

"That's good," answered Erik. "What about the King Emeritus and Prince?"

"We expect a reply from them any time."

Cherished Brethren and Friends, Their Majesties the King Emeritus and Crown Prince:

His Majesty the King gives you his warmest regards this wintrous season and kindly wishes you and Koopliedens as a whole a blessed Advent. He embraces you with the embrace of Jacob and Esau, and kisses you with the kiss of Peter and Paul. His Majesty the King recalls both of you to mind with endearing sentiment, and mourning your absence, he invites you to join him and his house at Midenborg Palace this Christmas for the royal gathering.

I, Avrahim Eshai, M. of Sarhu, Gent. of the Stool, R.L.O., composed this invitation on HM the King’s words.

He prays for your good fortune.

JSKS

[Kooplieden]

Cherished Brethren and Friends, Their Majesties the King Emeritus and Crown Prince:

His Majesty the King gives you his warmest regards this wintrous season and kindly wishes you and Koopliedens as a whole a blessed Advent. He embraces you with the embrace of Jacob and Esau, and kisses you with the kiss of Peter and Paul. His Majesty the King recalls both of you to mind with endearing sentiment, and mourning your absence, he invites you to join him and his house at Midenborg Palace this Christmas for the royal gathering.

I, Avrahim Eshai, M. of Sarhu, Gent. of the Stool, R.L.O., composed this invitation on HM the King’s words.

He prays for your good fortune.

JSKS

Royal Palace, Portsborough
10th December, 2036

Winter always came with a fierce bite to the southern coast of Kooplieden, and even by late November the first snow had appeared in force. To Portsburites, the chilling winds and thick snow surrounding them hardly made a difference, as they continued on with their business as usual. "Goods still need selling," you may often hear being said to one another, and without the thick layers of clothing on all the residents of the dockside capital it would be difficult to tell it was actually winter.

Margaret watched them - her subjects - from her room in the Royal Palace. The fireplace's soft orange glow and the tiny embers of the candle lit next to her were the only lights in the room to fight the darkness of the room and the cool colours from the window. One would've thought that business would halt with the setting of the sun, but Koopliens never paid much mind to that sort of thing. They kept working, selling, buying - the rhythms of a hard-working society, all unhindered by the cold or dark. The various melodies of their work could be heard faintly through her window - the sound of rubber tires on cobbled roads, trams clanging along icy rails, the occasional grumble of a ship's horn, and the shrill call of a small shunter's whistle.

Margaret looked down at the dockside scene wistfully. She was their queen, and the whole idea still refused to sit right with her. Queen Margaret II, she thought to herself. She had become the sole monarch of Kooplieden only over a year ago, when her husband, King Reginald IV, abdicated. He had spent decades reigning - decades of his mistakes being used against him, to limit his power, and perpetuating a vicious cycle which stopping him from effectively ruling as a king. Now, after watching his steady decline as a reigning monarch, she got to experience the same hardships he had faced.

She put her head in her hand as she leaned against the window. I'm their queen, and I'm not even one of them. Indeed, she was from the Emerstarian royal family - her name of Margaretta being altered to better fit the Kooplieden language - but that wasn't to say she thought poorly of the people of Kooplieden. Far from it! She had always respected their values, and admired their hard work and humble bashfulness - the same qualities she had seen in that sweet young Prince of Kooplieden at a ball in Emerstari many years ago. If anything, she feared that she wasn't respected by them - always an outsider, even after decades of her loyalty. The monarchies of Markion are quickly fading into obscurity, read a popular political piece in circulation at the time, so much so that any sense of dignity has been abandoned as they all cling to their mother Emerstari. Such is the case with our own ex-king, as he runs from his duties to the pleasures of retirement and places his Emerstarian wife in charge of our nation.

Her thoughts were broken by the sound of a quick knocking at her door. She knew it was Reginald from the knock alone, but didn't say anything. She simply sat, looking at the humble workers going about their business, envious of their happiness and simple lives. The door slowly opened, light from the ornate fixtures along the hallway seeping in through the crack as Reginald stepped through. He stood, dressed in a regal uniform that certainly stated his importance, but still hid his past as the King of Kooplieden. He let out a quiet sigh, almost to say something he had been thinking had been confirmed. He hesitated for a while before speaking softly.

"Konina*..."

Margaret turned. She saw a look on his face that she had only come to recognise from him in the last year. It was a look that broke her heart, and one that she unfortunately knew too well.

Reginald had gone through a lot of hardships and strife as king. No matter how hard it got, though, he kept smiling and would tell her he must simply keep pressing on. He said this through the Financial Troubles of the late 2010s, he said this as he watched the Kooplieden Commonwealth begin its slow decline - he even said this, albeit with the most difficulty of all, in the aftermath of the most devastating terrorist attacks to strike the region in recorded history. But when a motion of no confidence against him had failed by the narrowest of margins in parliament, he hadn't said that. He hadn't smiled.

Margaret slowly stood, walking towards Reginald. It broke her heart to see the man she loved so dearly in such a state. But deep down, she knew it wasn't his abdication that was troubling him. It wasn't the increasing public mistrust in the monarchy, or the thought of attending the Emerstarian Christmas party for the first time since his abdication and admitting his failure as a king. None of that was what had broken his spirit and robbed him of his character.

She stood opposite Reginald, tears forming in her eyes.

It was seeing his konina facing what had ruined his reign.

Her arms flung around Reginald, pulling him into a tight hug. She buried her face into his chest as he placed his own arms around her, gently sobbing under her breath. Eventually, she pulled back, looking back up into Reginald's eyes. She wanted to say a million things to him, but couldn't get any out as she leaned into him, open-mouthed, the various things she wanted to say fighting to get out and none of them coming out in any meaningful length.

He placed a finger over her mouth, stopping her attempts in vein to try and speak. Her eyes seemed to glisten as she held back her tears. Suddenly, almost violently, she pulled her head to his chest again, leaning against it as her legs buckled.

"I can't..."

"Shhh..." Reginald rubbed a hand against her back, speaking softly and in a soothing timbre. "What happens will happen. No matter what, you will always be my konina."

She simply stood there, eyes scrunched together in an attempt to hold back the primal urge to cry to the heavens as loud as she could. She slipped lower and lower before falling onto the floor completely, her arms around Reginald's feet. She barely registered being picked up and put gently on her bed, but began to regain composure when a soft hand touched her cheek. It was cold, wrinkled, marked with the scars of a man who had spent countless hours working and sacrificing for his nation, but it felt just as silken and smooth to her as the day they had met.

"Elgar and I are leaving for Emerstari soon." He struggled to find the right words, but was able to keep them from fighting to get out. He simply sat on the edge of the bed and sighed to himself, unable to look at her without feeling painful emotions swell to his chest.

"I'll return after New Year's."

Silence sat between them, thick enough to be sliced. It made what was only a few minutes feel like hours.

"Be strong. You'll be a better queen than I was king."

Nothing could have shattered Margaret's heart more thoroughly than that statement. She pulled him down onto the bed, laying him next to her, gripping him so tightly with her arms as if to protect him from anything that may try to harm him.

"You're the best king I've ever known," she whispered, her throat throbbing with pain. "I wouldn't know how to..."

She laid there, motionless, drifting between a feeling of numb acceptance and fiery defiant denial. Reginald began to get up, and Margaret instinctively held him down, but she ultimately realised that he had to go. She let go, her arm falling to the bed, and she couldn't muster the heart to look at him.

By the time she could, he was gone.

*Konina, in Emerstarian, is a play on words: it blends the two words 'koni' ('love' as a pet name) and 'kanina' ('female bunny') to create an affectionate term to call a loved one.

[Iyum]

Imperial Arms Export Concerns Log

Totaran B3 Acquisition Order

Customer: The Empire of Sevevill

Quantity: 2000

Bill: 1,700,000,000

Comment: Possible upcoming order of 500 more drones within the foreseeable future.

Totaran B3 Acquisition Order

Customer: Federal Republic of Ionio

Quantity: 2000

Bill: 1,700,000,000

Comment: None

Totaran B3 Acquisition Order

Customer: The Holy Empire of Arseny-Sazikov

Quantity: 100

Bill: 85,000,000

Comment: Possible future orders

[Emerstari]

The annual festivities began as the first guests started to arrive, among whom was a guest of honor, one Harald Jakobsson. He was a man most loyal to the Crown, who had served the aging Erik X Gustaf from his abdication in 1972 to his passing away in 2019. He began as a lowly staffer, and by the end of his service had become the chief of staff. Tonight, now aged ninety-one, he came to a place with so many memories as a guest, and not a servant — the place where eighteen years ago Erik X Gustaf celebrated his last Christmas.

Harald took a moment to recollect that Christmas. Erik XI Thjoderik had also been there, who passed on some years ago after a lengthy struggle with his lungs. Likewise King Arthur of Phoenixia, who died very quickly and unexpectedly, and his son, Prince Friedek, who was assassinated. King Renne of the Green Union was there, and King Wolfe also, who succeeded his father — and was then murdered. Thomes had been there, but now he was off and gone away to Markion. Erik XII Georg had been there, and he was still here.

The old man smiled at the sight of the king and went up to him. “Erik, thank you again for inviting me. It’s good to be here after all these years.”

“It’s good to have you here, Jakobsson,” said Erik, and they shook hands. “There wouldn’t be a party without you.”

Harald laughed, and after a few more words, the two departed. One could linger on the past all day, but he intended to make the most of the present, and headed towards the card table.

Erik returned to his post at the door, where he was greeting everyone as they came in.

[Phoenxia]

~snip~

Hrenshållar, Christmas

Etschelena carried a swaddled Lars with one heavily matburned Ulrik standing tall as her escort. Whilst he wore cocktail attire, she had opted out of a dress this time due to post-pregnancy insecurity. She instead donned something more comfortable, that being a cardigan sweater and semi-loose fitting sundress.

Alexei had been lost in thought when Etschelena and Ulrik had arrived and had very much not been paying attention to any one person or thing, politely excusing himself from conversations almost as quickly as they sprang up. His own anxieties and focus was back home. This was the first time in nearly a year that he had even left Arseny-Sazikov, and the lion’s share of his every waking moment was attending to affairs of the state. In the time he had been Tsar, few had seen him outside of the times he had given pre-recorded addresses to the nation, and even fewer heads of state abroad had met with him in person. All the same, he had managed to maintain a high degree of popularity; owed mostly to his youth and strong nationalist rhetoric. All of this was what Arseny-Sazikov wanted, no, demanded.

That was all well and good, but a week prior he had found a gray hair in the mirror. The position was aging him rapidly. This of course, was the way things went. He did not fuss, nor did he fret over such prideful trivialities. Apparently however, someone else had noticed that Tsar Alexei Feodorovich was starting to wear down. He was starting to get tired. The topic of a short reprieve had been brought up by those close to him in his court. He’d have completely written it off, if it weren’t for the fact that it would afford him some time to see his family. Family was in short supply these days, at least family whom one actually felt fondly toward. He had innumerable relatives, but only a few that he felt any actual warmth toward.

He could have almost sworn that when his cousin entered the room, he could “feel” her presence. At any rate, the usually taciturn young man smiled earnestly when he finally glanced in the direction of her and her husband and realized who it was that he had seen.

When Etsch even caught a glimpse of Alexei, she too lit up inside. She went over as fast as she could with a baby in her arms, “Alexei! It’s been more than a year! And it’s been years since I’ve seen you in a circumstance as happy as this.”

His first instinct was to hold his arms open in a hug, but he was given pause by what he saw in her arms. A son. Of course he knew, but he hadn’t seen the boy. Not in person at any rate. He looked first to Lars, then back to Etsch, his smile growing ever wider.

“A circumstance that becomes even happier with each passing second,” he beamed, “look at him. He’s beautiful. He looks just like you.”

She too looked down at the child to affirm his compliment, and back up, flashing back to family holidays of years passed.

"Why thank you. I also don't believe you've ever met my husband. Alexei, this is Ulrik," she grabbed his arm and pulled him farther into the forefront.

"Nice to finally meet you. I guess I've just missed meeting you a couple times now," he chuckled, holding out his hand to shake.

Alexei paused, thoroughly unused to shaking anyone else’s hand. In his homeland, it simply was a thing that did not happen. Not for him. Not for a Tsar. Even when he had been the Tsarevich, his father had expressly told him never to be caught shaking another man’s hand. It was a subversion of roles in the case of another other than a monarch, and fellow monarchs didn’t shake hands anyway. He glanced around using only his eyes, not moving his head. Then he outstretched his hand and grasped Ulrik’s, firmly.

“Bad luck, I think. Not by design at any rate. A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Ulrik.”

Etschelena could barely contain herself, just as she had hoped, it was a Christmas with family by blood. "Let's find a place to sit down in any case, there's some catching up to do I think!"

[Christbol]

Erik returned to his post at the door, where he was greeting everyone as they came in.

While not immediately rushing for the door immediately after taking steps out of his electric (and very obviously, flagship model) ChristBol brand sedan, like many of the other guests have done arriving from their own procured transport of choice, the Earthly Voice, partly because of the thoughts of what to say rushing through his head and partly because he was never particularly good with speaking to people until he'd get a couple drinks into him, slowly parked up at the parking near the entrance to the large structure in the center of the estate standing before him. This was not the first experience Jüri had with a grandiose home, if anything the many skyscrapers piercing the Weltholm skyline and the Holy Assembly building more than likely encompass a greater scope and size from the outside, however it is more so the commanding presence that such a building entails with it that has Jüri breathing heavily.

In the light of all that's going on around him, he almost forgets to reach into the trunk of the car and pick up the Rakii that he wanted to drink with the King. After but a few moments of seeing his normal calm restored and Jüri once again with his brain back on the saddle, he opens the trunk to uncover enough bottles of Rakii to make Southwaterian moonshine running operations seem tame by comparison. He picks up one. In ChristBol, it is customary to finish all the bottles of liquor a guest brings into anothers household before the guest leaves, and after all, Jüri wants to share a drink with the King, not be an accomplice to alcohol poisoning. If push comes to shove and a few others decide to share the bottle, then Jüri will simply come back for more. After all, if the liquor is /outside/ the house and Jüri isn't bringing in more than what's being drunk, then in theory, Jüri isn't breaking any customs.

He closes the trunk and locks the car, walking down the pathway from the parking towards the front entrance, liquor bottle in hand. As far as entrances go, at least he didn't take the suggestion by the Minister of Defense, which suggested paradropping with the car from a cargo plane. Truly, just transporting the car here, taking a plane and driving the rest of the way from the airport was clearly the best choice, though thinking about the onslaught of press which appeared where he had landed in the country, maybe dropping from a car into the countryside would've been worth it to avoid them.

Even though Jüri's entrance was in a clearly luxurious electric sedan, compared to the rest of the vehicles parking around him, the sedan was by no means something special. Jüri's attire compared to everyone else though, stands out like a tourist in a Weltholm bar: while most of the people arriving were in fairly humble, dark toned colors and simple, matching cloths, Jüri was in an insanely intricate, detailed and colorful suit, which more or less looks like something a decadent royal would wear if enlightened monarchy stayed popular up to the 2050's; huge mixture of primary and secondrary colors, specifically a large mixture of lighter shaded violet and blue, with a very red tie to boot. While this would pass as something expected and therefor invisible in the average house party in ChristBol, such a color combination has turned Jüri, against his own will, into a giant walking beacon that might as well be screaming "I am over here. I have never been to an Emerstarian celebration in my life."

Furthermore having his famous strength of perception returning to him again after staring lovingly into his favorite bottle of liquor, he notices that many of the present guests are visibly eyeing him down. What for though? The bottle of alcohol? The comparatively aggressive suit? The electric car? The fact that with all those things combined he looks like an avant-garde Emerstari crime lord? Only God could really know and no doubt He is laughing at Jüri now too.

All of this, however, did not persuade him to leave. Not the eyes staring him down menacingly (from his perspective mind you, I assume nobody looked at Jüri with actual menace so much as staring at him as if he was a guest from a clown college that the King might be funding), not the overwhelming crowd of the palace he was about to enter and certainly not the fact that he just realized he had been criticizing his own appearance in the confines of his internal monologue standing on the first two steps to the front door for a solid minute like an idiot while the King is extending greetings to everyone who circle around Jüri.

Summing up the courage to approach the King, Jüri snaps out of his initially overwhelmed state and, as if possessing a comically large on/off switch, turns off his usual sober social ineptitude in large groups for a minute and goes to accept the Kings greeting.

"Terved, Kunkaale Erik, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." - the young man extends his left hand, holding the bottle cradled in his non-dominant hand - his right.

[Ekaterina-]

Anastasia had gripped the Ekaterinian wine bottle with nervous tension, trying to keep her uneasy stomach humble by watching out the window of her limousine. Though she was usually seen in her typical Ekaterinian colors, Anastasia made the conscious decision to dull down the hot pinks and darken the seafoam greens for this particular occasion.

Anastasia practically glowed like twinkling Christmas lights- golden makeup dancing on her perfectly placed cheeks, shimmering rich raspberry stained on her filled lips. Millions of emerald green sequins draped over her porcelain skin, dropped over her shoulder and just reached past her knees. Her ruby red pumps crossed neatly at her ankles, jittering with nerves.

“I haven’t seen you like this since your coronation” a voice said from the seat across from her.
She had finally torn her gaze from the Emerstarian views whizzing along past her to see Svetlana tapping away at her tablet.

“I’m fine,” Anastasia bluffed, “Besides, it’s just a small social gathering right? Shouldn’t be too much pressure.”
Svet scoffed at the statement, “Your Majesty, there are going to be hundreds of people attending- including royalty from all over Markion.”

Anastasia gripped the neck of the wine bottle even tighter, the beautiful golden bow wrapped around it seeming small and insignificant. She beamed a perfectly trained smile back at Svet.
“Well, looks like the wine might not last too long tonight!” She attempted to jest, doing her best to mask the quiver in her voice.

“The wine was an excellent choice m’lady. Just try to have fun tonight. Queen Sonya didn’t train the idea of ‘fun’ out of you too, did she?” Svetlana tried her best to ease the tension in the small space of the limousine as it came to a stop right outside the palace.
“You know me well enough to know the answer to that question, don’t you Svet?” She responded with a glittery smirk and gracefully left the limousine.

“Yes.” Svetlana muttered under her breath. “Yes I do.”

[Kooplieden]

Erik returned to his post at the door, where he was greeting everyone as they came in.

The Ekaterinian limousine, decked out in all the signs of a decadent leader's chariot, had but hardly pulled away when the clacking of hooves on pavement announced the arrival of the next party guests - King Emeritus Reginald IV, and his son, Prince Elgar I, of Kooplieden. It wasn't unheard of for monarchs to still rely on elaborate horse-drawn carriages for their grand entrances, with all the ornate furnishings of a time long gone, but that simply wasn't the Kooplieden way.

It would be an understatement to say that heads turned as the pair rounded the corner, on horseback, dressed in the traditional uniforms of the Queen's Cavalry Regiment (of which the monarchy in Kooplieden is historically a part of) and atop horses donning similarly-themed tacks. They were at the front of a procession, leading around two dozen similarly-dressed horseback riders who could only have been esteemed individuals from the Queen's Cavalry Regiment. They trotted at a leisurely pace, side by side, but with all the precision and synchronisation of an elaborate piece of clockwork.

Once the procession reached the entrance, the Prince and King Emeritus pulled away from the group and stopped outside the main doors. The two lines of ornate cavalrymen stopped, halting as if under one mind controlling them, and they turned their steeds to face the two monarchs. Both the Prince and the King Emeritus drew sabres from their hilts - elaborate, well-furnished ceremonial sabres, but not so elaborate as to be wholy useless in battle. They brought the hilt of their sabres to their chins, pointing the swords vertically, and this action was repeated in one swift movement by the cavalrymen - a salute by sabre.

With all the grace of experienced riders, the Prince and King Emeritus sheathed their sabres and dismounted their horses, and the cavalry procession proceeded once more down the road. The last two men in the procession grabbed the reins of the royal steeds and led them away, assumably for a very healthy reward of snacks and rest. While to an outsider such an entrance would appear very ornate and elaborate - perhaps even excessive to a degree - with a long history of cavalry and horseback riding, such was the traditional Kooplieden entrance to any sufficiently esteemed event.

Once the Queen's Cavalry Regiment had disappeared from sight, Reginald turned to face what he had been dreading for the past month - the sight of Erik XII Georg. A voice of reason in the back of his mind assured Reginald that he and Georg were like brothers, and nothing could earn his disappointment, but the weight of his abdication and the failure of his reign drowned out this voice and meant he was only able to produce a feeble smile that hid none of his insecurities from the fellow monarch.

Elgar, on the other hand, was faring much better. Aged only in his 20s, the young prince had visited but few international events in such a way, and found it hard to dismiss the smile of an enthusiastic child from his face. He gave a cordial bow to Erik, and awaited the lead of Reginald to proceed inside.

However, Reginald stood petrified, awaiting Erik's response.