The chilly air of the Onorussian port of Kirskov was something that most people in the city were used to, but today the air was instead warmer than usual. A balmy fifty two degrees, practically unheard of in the far north island nation. Then again, it was summertime, so warmer temperatures were to be expected. The trees were green and flowers were blooming, and for the most part the snow had melted, allowing green grass to grow in its stead. The normally restricted portion of the Port District, which was restricted for Naval vessels, was unusually busy as well on this fine day. Several docked destroyers had been moved to make room for a new vessel, a diplomatic vessel of all things.
Standing on the dock, accompanied by several men in black fatigues and body armor, was a young man in similar attire. He wore the black fatigues, and intimidating jackboots, but he lacked the body armor. He was well known on the island as Altair Occisor, son of the Imperator. At the moment he was watching two navy destroyers escort the diplomatic ship to the dock, a large grin forming on his face. It had been quite some time since he had seen the diplomat on that ship, back when he had still been recovering from a rather nasty injury... Now he was back on his feet, however. As he watched the gangplank come off the ship and onto the dock, Altair walked to the edge and waited. There was some official reason for the visit, something trivial and boring that Altair didn't care about enough to remember. All he cared about was the diplomat that had been sent, and just how long it had been since they had seen each other.
