As one falls... (IC, Esquarium Only)

[Sjealand]

So shall the others

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Airstrip of Søskøn Palace, Asgård Stad, Archkingdom of Sjealand

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07:45, 1st of Jølnir, 2017
-6 degrees celsius

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He pondered the quote for a few seconds. Dear gods how it had been drilled into his head when he grew up.

''We sit at a crossroads, we monarchs are always threatened with revolt and republics. The people only support you when their worries are met. As one falls, so shall the others''

His father had always said, the cunt that he was. Yet he could deny it fully. Of all the invited monarchs today, a minority sat on their thrones. The vast majority lived as exiles, as deposed heads of states, as relics from a bygone era. Not that they all were to blame, countries like Akai and Nevanmaa gave the world a much darker view of the throne. One of despotism, racism and of the most vile ideas one could grab.

His steamy breath formed the only remnants of clouds he could see. The sky was a cold blue today, nothing white on the sky, maybe to contrast the white of the ground. He thought he saw the planes in the horizon, carrying the crowned and esteemed heads of the Esquarian monarchies. Which planes it was he had little to no idea of. A quick shiver down his spine served as a reminder of the temparature. One thing to savour was watching the boreans handle the cold. Especially the albino of Akai and the Tuthinan child, those were some of the few pleasures of international diplomacy. He stroked his beard, the cold didnt bother him as much now as it had used to when he was at Pontoppidans. He had chosen a normal winter uniform of the Black Guards today, it was nothing too fancy, yet it signalled dignity, honour and strength. He had considered something more, something grand, but there were no papparazi to take pictures, no journalists to fawn over details, so there was not point.

''Egon, sørg for at hoffolkene står klar med velkomsttåren, de ankommer snart''

He said to his aide. The man nodded then bowed, before he hurried to fetch the courtiers. It was a long flight to Sjealand, especially when going to his private airfield, so he had though it best with a little something they could warm themselves on.

''Deres Majestæt, akvavit eller snaps?''

He heard Egon call. Hmm, what would be best, Akvavit was certainly the better taste but Snaps would help on the warmth.

''Snaps, Gammel Tynsk, Årgang 1993 Egon. Stå klar med de små glas, det er kun en lille dram''

He replied, it was settled. This should have been settled beforehand but the weather had surprised them. It wasnt supposed to snow until the 16th, so improvisation was needed. Luckily they were able to keep the carpet warm enough for it to be seen.

The noise from the jets grew even louder, the first seemed to finally arrive. He nodded to the Colonel of the Royal Life Guard.

''Kompagni! Præsenter sabel! Første Deling, præsenter gøp!'',

They calmly marched to their positions around the carpet. Those carrying guns surrounding Frederik and those with the sapres lining against the carpet, forming a tunnel of sabres. Next he nodded to the Military band of the Royal Guards. ''When they leave the plane, play the royal anthem and when they arrive at me and the corporal hands them the banner you play the march of the banner.''

His gaze shifted to the first plane as it prepared to land, he couldnt make out the coat of arms, but he had his ideas of who it was.

[Katranjiev]

For the first time in a long while, Queen Elis was flying solo. Her husband and their children were staying behind in Krasimir, especially considering what will be on the itinerary. While normally, she does not fly on private jets, she very reluctantly chartered one on the advice of the Prime Minister and her father.

After having sent a tweet expressing her condolences, she glanced at the white landscape in Asgård. Soon enough, her plane landed at the airstrip near the Søskøn Palace, and eventually came to a stop.

She had been preparing for the gathering: many reigning monarchs, as well as pretenders from across the world were bound to be there, and she wanted to make a good impression, especially among those who don't read Twitter because they have better things to do. She changed her dress from a style appropriate in Katranjiev to what is appropriate for the Sjealandic climate.

Once she had done that, it was now time for Elis to disembark from her warm plane into the cold Sjealandic air.

[Karazawa]

"...The Assembly should vote in favour of the bill and none of the High Judges are in position to oppose it or raise concern. As such, the Constitution should not be of any problem."

The grave and monotone voice was coming from the little device Cucumenthi II, Caconzi of Karazawa, had put in his ear before the flight. Despite the importance of the events ready to happen in his country, the old monarch couldn't just stay and supervise the last steps of the plan he had so carefully crafted, neither would he be there to watch over the situation and correct the small mistakes reality was sure to put in his and his family way. But he was confident enough in his Yrateq, his son, and the other "conspirators" abilities to do well without him so nothing would go too wrong.

"Very good Sokkan. I trust you with the last details...son ?"

"Yes father ?" asked another voice in the king's ear. Younger, less grave, but smooth and posed. It was the heir of Karazawa, the Prince Yerepulcha.

"Make sure everything is ready for the Saturnales. I expect it to be greater than the other years."

"Why thought."

"Because even if they don't know why, people need to associate the events that are about to transpire with something good and positive. So make sure these Saturnales will be a good time for every Karazawi."

"I still don't know why you need to go right before such an important moment." Abruptly cut the Prince. Had it been anyone else and Cucumenthi would have make sure fingers would have been lost for this. But it wasn't anyone else. "Because, petulant child, keeping good relations with others monarchs, is both an important part of our diplomacy and an excellent pass-time." He then paused, remembering something that feel like it came from another life. "A quite blunt and rude individual once told me : "as one falls, so shall the others." He was right of course. I hope you understand ?"

"Yes father." answered Yerepulcha. The Caconzi had learn to tell if his son was lying or not, even if he became more subtle as he grew and he was happy to feel honest feelings in his heir's voice. This child is both a curse and a blessing. Thought Cucumenthi. And I can't thank Saturn enough for it.

"Anyway gentlemen. We all have important work to do so everyone get ready. It will be an important month for all of us so don't falter now. Goodbye."

And Cucumenthi hang up the phone, took the devise out of his ear and let the servants come in his office. Soon, the Caconzi of Karazawa was ready to face the Sjealandic climate in his long fur coat and hat. Not long after, the plane stoped entirely and Cucumenthi saluted the crew before disembarking with his personal guards, the Uarhitepen and their green boilersuit, red berets, and strange haircuts, to meet with Frederik and the other monarchs of the world.

[Tuthina]

Outside the window, the pale sky paired with the cerulean sky and distant white land below, painting a chilly picture of winter. Within a few days, the solar term of Daysyut would arrive in the Tuthinan Home Islands. Being of similar latitude of its northern part, the land of Sjealand was similarly covered in a powdery layer of snow.

The plane itself was chosen both because it was available, and it being the product of joint development between the two countries. Itself intended for military duty, this particular flying boat was custom-made to be as luxurious and prestigious as possible, brandishing a bright, white livery decorated with red and black line, with the Imperial emblem on its tail indicating its exalted status as the private transport of the Emperor of the Most Serene Empire.

The main compartment of the transport would not be out of place within a manor of a wealthy, upper-class family apart from its cylindrical shape and somewhat narrow width, constrained by the dimension of its carrier. The floor was covered with traditional straw mat of the Empire, while the walls and ceiling was lined with high-quality wood, giving it an antique feeling contrast to the modern technology that made it airborne.

Sitting by the window on a comfortable, cushioned chair was a young man, looking at outside as land gradually expanded to fill the world outside. Soon to be 15 in age, there were little doubt that he would be among the youngest to participate in the gathering of monarchs across the world. Yet, he may very well wield the most power among them: many of them had been deposed long ago, with the surviving one mostly being ceremonial figureheads. Even the few monarchs that still retained absolute authority in their country probably would not be considered power influential than his in many ways.

That said, being the absolute monarch of a country that mandated literal worship to him came with its downsides. By his side, an older female in her twenties was standing next to him, reading the content of yet another paper to him as his fingers held a small shot glass filled with clear liquid. The vast bureaucracy developed with the express purpose of managing the daily affairs of the country had served him well enough, but the obvious drawback of having the final say on where the country should go was having to make the final call on where the country should go.

" - as such, Her Most Serene Highness requested the position of acting curator to facilitate her investigation until its conclusion, Your Most Serene Majesty." As far back as he could remember, most words that filled his ears were either scholarly lectures on various academic subjects, or requests and pleads for his blessing on various political subjects. Yet, it was inevitable that someone like him, being in the middle of his puberty, had his attention faded out, the words melting in the sight of the marvel of nature outside. He had learnt from experience to snap back the moment he was addressed, though: being the undisputed ruler of his own country did not save him from being lectured more when his shift of attention was found out.

"May it be done, then." He remembered enough of the topic to know that it was not an important decision, and he gave his approval to his secretary, who nodded in response. "Yes, Your Most Serene Majesty. This one will relay your exalted words back to the capital. As for the next request - "

"Please put the rest on hold. I think we are landing soon, and I should prepare myself." After finishing the drink, he raised his hand as the secretary was about to proceed to the next paper, stopping her words immediately. "Would you kindly ask the navigators for updated estimated time to arrival?"

"Of course, Your Most Serene Majesty." The female bowed to him, before making her leave towards the bow of the plane, giving him a moment of silence as he straightened his garment.

"Your Most Serene Majesty. The current time in Asgård Stad is jin chyosamkhëk [0745]. The plane should land soon, once the navigators receive confirmation from the local air traffic control." He had just enough time to put on his coat seamed with fur lines until the secretary returned and greeted him with a deep bow. Once he nodded in response, the lady recited the answer she had received.

"Thank you. You should be prepared for landing as well." He offered the female a gentle smile, causing her face to blush slightly as she quickly bowed once again, before taking her seat and put on her seat belt, with him following suit soon after. His lineage allowed him to treat his country of subordinates pretty much however he wanted, but unlike most works of stereotype and propaganda about people of his position, he never really see the need to treat them as inferior, whether they truly were or not.

Soon, the belly of the aircraft opened to reveal its sets of landing gears, as the flying boat approached the airstrip of Søskøn Palace. Following his foreign counterparts, the Emperor made some final adjustment to his garment. Once the aircraft landed safely, he removed himself from the seat and strolled towards the exit chamber. The entire crew of the plane was already there, giving him a deep bow simultaneously as he revealed himself to the outside through the doorway and stairs.

Somewhat known for his androgynous appearance due to his young age, the Emperor was taller than average of his age, but still probably fell short than the adults that would be present in the venue. His waist-long black hair was tied behind him into a bun, which was then decorated with a hairpin adorned with top-tier gemstone cut in Asgård, naturally.

Courtesy of lengthy debate among scholars and officials, he ultimately opted for the traditional T-shaped robe of his country, although its cutting was much more form-fitting, making it a blend of traditional and modern fashion. That said, most of his clothes were concealed under the pale saffron-coloured coat lined with white fur around his neck. His small, all-female entourage, on the other hand, opted for similar garment, although black in colour with fur of slightly lower quality. Because of their effeminate gender, their long hair was either left straight, or tied into a simply ponytail as they approached the welcoming party.

[Sassau]

Approaching Asgård:

The Sjealandian capital spread out below him as the jet banked over the city. Karl could see the mismatched streets below, the houses dotting the many islands along the coast. It looked like a fairly typical winter. The city was white intermixed with pockets of dull greens, greys or browns where the snow had not reached or had been cleared. In the distance, he could see the looming Sydfjeldene, the lofty, snow-laden peaks rising into the gloom, removing said peaks from view. The Swastrians referred to the mountain range as the Nordfjell, a term borrowed from the many Nordic peoples living in and around the mountains. The Tynic Sea drifted away below him and the white countryside of Sjealand began to rise up to meet him.

The jet wasn't anything impressive and, if anything, was probably the smallest aircraft here. It was one of two the airforce used to move high-ranking staff and members of the Royal Family around on official business, mostly for domestic and short hops to other Nordanian countries. If he was judged for having a small jet, then clearly these were not the kinds of people to associate with. He probably could have flown his own personal aircraft here, if the air force pilots who were tasked with flying him to Asgård did not warn him of the difficult flying conditions.

As the ground rose up to meet him, Karl remembered the last times he was here. The blue-eyed Crown Prince mourning the death of his father. The blue-eyed Crown Prince now becoming Archking. The blue-eyed Archking marrying a doe-eyed Princess from Norday. He was the darling of Sjealandian media and also of Swastrian media, who followed his courtship closely. He was reminded of his own marriage, though not failed, it certainly wasn't in the best place. His wife didn't even live in the same country, let alone occupy the same palace. There were lessons to be learned from this, and the young Archking he was about to meet properly for the first time during his reign needed to know them.

A shuddering signalled the jet's arrival on terra firma. The engines roared as reverse thrust was engaged and the jet began slowing down. It soon taxied to a position where he could see the young Archking standing expectantly. He sighed, wishing he was in his winter retreat in the Seftenberg Mountains. Grabbing his winter coat, he somehow managed to put it on in a stooped standing position within the aircraft's cabin. His back twinged slightly, reminding him that he was on the wrong side of fifty. The crew of the aircraft opened the door and a crisp, cold breeze entered the warm cabin. Karl finished adjusting his jacket and walked out into the wintry day, hoping that the meeting would be over quickly.

[Sjealand]

Frederik rose from his chair as the foreign monarchs made their way down the carpet. The wind howling past them as they slowly but steadily walked towards him. He stood, tall as he was, yet smiling with warmth. Stepping down from the podium he greeted the Karazawan.

''Cucumenthi, you old sod! Its a pleasure to see you in such good health!''

He nodded to the man, out of respect to his senior. Putting his gloved hand on the mans shoulders waved over Egon.

''A little something to warm yourself on old boy. Schnaps from Old Tynic, from the year 1993''

He took two of the shot-blasses.

''To your health Cucumenthi! Egon here will guide you to the sleigh, ill be with you as soon as ive greeted the others''

He nodded to Egon, who bowed to the Caconzi, showing his deepfound respect and admiration of the man. Steadily he led the old man to the awaiting sleigh that would be taking the monarchs to Søskøn Palace. Frederik however turned his eye to the next monarch, yet it was not a welcome sight. Elis the hag. Even for a West Borean she was a catastrophe. He smiled to her, but his eyes could in no way hide the disdain he felt for the Katranjievan. He made a mental note to have the guards take her phone before the hunt.

''Elis my friend! I hope the long trip didnt face you in any way. Have a little something to warm yourself on before going over to the sleigh, ill be with you in a second.''

The relief of getting away from her was inexplicable, yet a gift. This next monarch was a more welcome sight, not for who he was, but for what he represented. The Tuthinans were the reason Sjealand became what it was. Them giving away the monopoly to Sjealand single-handedly made Sjealand the most important economy in western Nordania, being the sole nation allowed to trade in Tuthina. Thanks to this Sjealand had had almost no competition from other Nordanians in the borean trade. Even now Tuthina remained their strongest and most steadfast ally. On a continent with syndicalists and republicans ready to tear across the Sydfjeldene, it was a gift to know the Tuthinans had their back.

''Your Imperial Majesty, an utmost pleasure that you yourself decided to come here. I hope the flight was to your liking.''

He gave a small baw, recognising the Emperors importance both to Sjealand and to the region.

''I would like to offer you the warmest welcomes to Sjealand and Søskøn, i hope the climate is to your liking. May i offer a drink? Only the best and strongest of Sjealandian schnaps.''

Their conversation was interrupted as the Swastrian Karl V, arrived. To say Sjealand and Swastria had a love-hate relationship would be an understatement. In total dozens of wars had been fought between the Sjealandians and the Swastrians, with armies upon armies tearing across the Sydfjeldene to destroy the hated neighbours. Swastria had started the Great War of the North, or as it was known in Sjealand, the Calamity. Yet the Swastrians were now their largest trade partner, Sjealandians drove swastrian cars and ate swastrian chocolate. On the other hand in Swastria, luxury equated Sjealandian. Wittburg followed the fashion in Sjealand with excited eyes and the finest of jewelry in Swastria was of the Asgård Cut. Swastria was home to the largest Tynic population outside of Sjealand, and both countries taught eachothers languages in school. So to put it as often said about relationships on NordTalk, it was complicated.

''Karl! Always a pleasure to see a Swastrian here, you are always welcome at Søskøn! Have you met Akiyasu? The young Emperor of Tuthina. I am honoured you could both make it here today, it's always a pleasure to see our kind at the same place now that we are so few''

[Katranjiev]

Elis listened intently to His Majesty, Frederik VI of Sjealand.

"The flight went well, Your Royal Majesty," she said in French. "Thank you for asking."

As he walked away, and moved to the next monarch, she knew that she had to make a good impression on the Sjealandic Archking, especially considering that he probably follows her on Twitter. She hoped that during this meeting, she will not perceived as a douchebag who deserves to be killed...

[Tuthina]

"Your Royal Majesty, the pleasure is all mine." The small convoy surrounding the Emperor automatically stood aside as the two monarchs met face to face, standing upright and still as Frederik offered a small bow to Akiyasu, who returned the gesture in the same manner. "It is definitely a refreshing change of pace to pay a visit to a cordial host. I look forward to being under your care."

"A drink would be great. I have long heard the fame of Sjealandian schnaps, and it would be a waste not to savour one in its native land." The Emperor bore the same warming smile as the Archking which, combining with his young appearance and voice, gave a rather cheerful impression. However, it also came with the unfortunate side effect of not having an imposing presence, especially when compared with his Regent. Perhaps that was one of the reasons beside security that they did not seem to travel abroad together: in fact, it was rare to see the Emperor being present outside his country instead of the Regent, who had been attending diplomatic functions since before he was born.

As their meeting was joined by their Swastrian counterpart, Frederik turned to address him, introducing the Emperor to him in the process. Having learnt their languages as part of his education, the young monarch offered a slight bow to Karl as his name was mentioned. "It is my honour to meet you in person as well, Your Majesty." As he spoke after Frederik, he could not help but ponder if he should be glad that the vast majority of monarchs were in the same place, exchanging warm welcomes with each other, or be saddened that their numbers had diminished to the point it had become a practical event.

[Karazawa]

the contrast between the small old caconzi and the tall young archking was still as impressive as ever. Yet both men greeted one another with warm smiles. Cucumenthi wouldn't go as far as to call the bond between the two men a "friendship", but the archking did won his respect and he always found him to be good company. Which is more than what he could say about many people.

"A pleasure to be here as well, young archking." he said after a little nod. "And what can I say ? The fresh air of your country do wonder to my bones."

He then took the offered drink. "And to your health, Frederik. May this reception be even more pleasant than the precedents." and dipped his lips in it. While being drunk was something of a religious interdict for the Caconzi, there was no rule stoping the monarch of the Karazawi to have a drink once or twice.

Cucumenthi nodded to Egon when he was presented to him. "Very well, I'll be waiting for you and the other at the palace. Don't catch a cold out there. Well then, Egon ? Shall we ?"

He then left the giant of Nordania to his duty as a host.

[Lecistan]

Paweł Òłówski looked idly out the window of the helicopter as it passed over the deep green woods surrounding Asgard. Unlike many of the monarchs who would be attending the celebrations, Paweł was familiar with these woods, to an extent only rivalled by the Sjealandic Archking himself. He had never seen the country whose throne he pretended to; he was born in Sjealand, less than a month after his family had been forced to flee by the triumphant Workers' Army of Lecia, in the mansion his father had bought with the money the Òłówskis had taken from the Lecian treasury before abandoning the country to the revolution.

The thought of his father brought a mixture of vague, conflicted recollections to Paweł's mind. Paweł had never known the man known to the Lecian people as "Krësztof III the Tyrant"; Krësztof had put a bullet through his own head only four months after his son's birth. Paweł's knowledge of his father was entirely second-hand. As a child, it had been easy enough to pretend that the tales regarding his father's cruelty were merely syndicalist propaganda, spread by the Kãszobùski regime to distract its citizens from its own failings and keep its hold on power; but even Paweł's family had few fond memories of him. His mother Grethe generally refused to talk of him at all, when Paweł was a child; his uncle Matéùsz had sometimes cursed Krësztof, blaming him for their exile and relating stories of his father's failings. Some filial urge in him demanded that he protect his late father's honor, but he nevertheless had conceded to the idea that perhaps it was not inherently unjust for the Lecian people to want his father gone.

Of course, this hardly made him a supporter of the regime that had supplanted Krësztof's tyranny; the ensuing syndicalist regime, in spite of its few democratic trappings, relied heavily on the military to retain its hold on power. Only a handful of largely-similar parties were allowed to operate within the country, money was funneled endlessly into building defenses aimed at protecting Lecia from "counterrevolutionaries", and the country had spent decades wracked by fighting between the Workers' Army and the so-called Lecian Resistance Army, a loose coalition of anti-syndicalist groups. It seemed foolish to claim that the revolutionaries had really improved the living conditions of the Lecian people, as they had so often promised.

Paweł was not alone in that assessment. Many other members of the Lecian exile community - which was not large, if only because nothing about Lecia is - had begun to organize against the so-called Workers' Republic shortly after its foundation. The result was the inspiringly-named Solidarity Alliance, a coalition of parties and organizations aimed at creating a new government in Lecia. Once he had come of age, he had begun to play his own role in the Alliance; the party he led, the National Party, was the third-largest in the Alliance, behind Emil Stolôrz's National Union and Frãcëszk Szpilman's Rally for Lecian Freedom.

But now was not the time for political concerns, he thought, shaking his head to clear it. He was here to relax, and to enjoy the company of his fellow monarchs. Concerns of Lecia and the Alliance could wait for later. In the meantime, while the helicopter, he could think of different thoughts, more pleasant ones.

Inevitably, though, his mind wandered back to Lecia- that enigmatic land he claimed the right to rule as King. Lecia was hardly large enough to justify being called a grand duchy, and yet when Sztefan Wiszniewski had himself coronated in 1664, he had elected to give himself the title King. It wasn't like anyone could have really stopped him at that point, but it still resulted in the awkward situation that- even if he was not an exiled pretender claiming a deposed throne- he would be significantly outclassed by the other kings here.

Once again, he shook his head to clear it. He was not here to show off, or to play politics, he was here to relax and enjoy the company of others. Noticing that the helicopter was about to land, he quickly buttoned his long trenchcoat, straightened his deep blue tie, and ran a hand through his greyed hair as the craft lowered itself onto the concrete. Once it was safely on the ground, he opened the door and stepped out, into the cold Sjealandic air.

[Ainin]

The helicopter bore down on a grass pad next to the taxiway, the small craft dwarfed by the row of jumbo jets. Although hardly the preferred method of transport of the proletariat, the blue chopper with a white racing stripe and adorned with an inconspicuous imprint reading "ASGARD VIP HELICOPTER RENTALS" looked positively bohemian compared to the massive airplanes covered in flag motifs, coats of arms and other stately regalia of old and famous states. As the skids touched the ground, the passenger door flung open and a middle-aged man emerged with a heavy step. His greying hair, dyed an unnaturally deep shade of brown, fluttered wildly in the unholy mixture of the stinging winter wind and the helicopter's rotors. Not used to the harsh frosts of the Tynic December, he shuddered as all the hairs on his body sprang upright in pain.

The curious character, dressed in a smokey trench coat that covered a black tuxedo and wearing the ornate medal of the Order of Saint-Charles the Great around his neck, approached the palace with an excited spring in his step, seemingly aware of how out of his league he was at that moment. He, of course, was King Louis-Charles III of Ainin, Montnoir, Seville and Karazawa. Unfortunately, as it stood, he ruled over none of the countries, cursed by the ineptness of his forefathers to the stigma of being a mere pretender to long-abolished thrones. Compound his misfortunate, the actual monarchs of Montnoir and Karazawa would be there, and he reckoned that they would hardly be his biggest fans.

His bottle of Saltèrne sparkling wine in hand — his wife had talked him out of bringing a bottle of palm wine, vividly remembering the pained reaction of the Nevan consul upon sampling its acidic taste — he approached the Sjealandian party. Swiping a glance at some of the other royal parties that were making their way to the palace, he suddenly felt a tinge of insecurity as he visually compared the awe-inspiring army of assistants and guests that accompanied some of them with the minuscule group that had travelled with him: his wife, his son, and a fellow named Jacques who officially held the position of "chief of staff" in his household but was in reality a little bit of everything — butler, housekeeper, secretary, travel agent, and, before today unbeknownst to Louis-Charles himself, helicopter pilot.

Nonetheless, he set aside his self-doubt and allowed a toothpaste commercial-ready grin to take over his face, just as that sad, fanatical monarchist that he had hired as a publicist out of pity said he should. As Louis-Charles came into Frederik's line of sight, the Aininian monarch resolved to meet whatever was about to come with a dignified demeanour and let out a sigh, expelling the last vestiges of his nervosity.

[The IASM]

Airstrip
Søskøn Palace
Asgård Stad
Sjealand

Hulang

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The Detu’s aircraft was one of the simpler ones in the Lazin’s fleet, is a retrofitted naval aircraft used traditionally as Jietku’s primary means to fly abroad. It was a vast aircraft for sure. Sjealand was an odd place, a bastion of paganism in a field of dualistic monotheism. Hulang had indirect ties with this place. For some reason, Jietku managed to become the Archking’s guardian and even taught him to fence. Hulang suffered the full brunt of Jietku’s perfectionism for most of his life, and he was the final result of it. A monarchal prodigy for Jietku, one trained to excel in the theoretical art of governing while also the sort of specimen that among the Akai would eventually gain respect. Hulang met these desires more than anyone else, and yet he always found his father’s wishes for him… constraining. He always found the restraints placed upon him, the duty required of him by his father to always be restricting beyond belief. As Jietku always said whenever Hulang questioned the intensity of his training and education: No pressure, no diamond.His life was determined from the moment he was born, and so he always elected to make a mockery of it. Jietku wanted a perfect successor in his son and that he would have — so much so to overshadow every success he ever had. There was nothing more suiting in Hulang’s eyes to make a mockery of his father than to be better than him.

And one area he sought to achieve this was education — Jietku’s personal knowledge and cultured mind were one Hulang sought to rival. Jietku’s specialities were architecture, art and literature with all featuring a major role in some way shape or form in his regime. The whole palace of Thāst Magkōng which he constructed as a monument to his success in 1984 — the whole complex was imbued with a sense of religious imagery. For example, six-winged immortals whose haunting wings masked their monstrous forms — entombed in stone as statues. There were paintings, hundreds of them scattered around the palace often depicting mythological heroics and historical feats of greatness, one of Hulang’s favourites was a duel in the afterlife between Prince Tiao-Li the Golden and his father Emperor Gangslu which was kept in the private wings of Xiaoxia. There also was the vast library which the young Detu had extracted a book from, maintained by the scholars employed by his family. Thousands of books, compiled over the centuries by series of Grand Preceptors, councillors, ministers, Emperors and Detus. There were books, dialogues and texts which covered a vast amount of fields and often several first or second editions of certain texts were contained there.

He had decided to spend the flight instead of indulging in his usual habits, continued his other love — reading. In this case the famed Count of Esoteric Wisdom, Tsang Zinpaw. Hulang knew well of the man, a contemporary of the great Akai philosophers in the Second Warring States Period and a famed advisor of Emperor Gangslu. The text in question which Hulang possessed was called On Lahuborean Affairs — one of the polymaths geopolitical texts. It’s themes ranged from the long term nature of civilisations, core states and asserted that the Heavenly Xiaodongese Empire would be unable assert itself as a Monic core state due to is cultural and civilisation separation and the entrenchment of Tuthina as a pseudo-core state which will due to its internal turmoil likely face great difficulties in being a full. The chapter that the Detu was reading then was arguably one of the more important chapters, focusing on the need for a unification of Akai. It’s argument went along the lines that Lazinato, in order to remain competitive, should instead of looking to colonies which it has little ties to it should embrace irredentism and unify the resource rich and culturally similar Akai so that it can reassert itself in the coming century as a centre of stability and power — a home for the divine Detu and his subjects. While these ideas came to influence the Sinprapka neolegalists, Zinpaw elected to stay away from them seeing them as too plebeian for his tastes and without the heroic and were too focused on the nation.

The Detu’s suite was quiet and well constructed to suit his introverted temperament. While traditional in design, the room still had a modern feel to it. The entire thing was surrounded by a curving screen which could display anything he desired — the sky outside, any film worth watching as well as any documents he received electronically. He used a Ming Slate 4 to achieve this as much as he’d wish to use some more elaborate device. Alas, he contemplated the others with him in his room. He decided to bring his two sister-wives — the two Degho, his twin sister Jietsiu and his half-sister Leisi. Leisi 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. Leisi was wearing an exotic and vibrantly coloured dress with the shades cyan and yellow. 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 makeup, 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 fairly isolated from the Detu, being mostly kept separate until he was 12 from Leisi due to the various wishes of Jietku. Yet they grew up in the same hellish facility in SSJ 137 let led very separate existences, only interacting in the rare moments when Jietku permitted it. Jietsiu was said to be a beautiful girl although hers was of the more aloof and haunting than Leisi’s innocence. It was 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, 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 black and gold 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 Jietsiu’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 small section of her shoulders and back visible. 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 Jietsiu’s ornate more traditional dress and Leisi’s relatively simple dress was noted by the Detu and marked the differences between them as people.

Both of them were patiently waiting, seemingly absorbed in their own texts which they had to read. Jietsiu’s book was the Book of Perfect Realisation, a philosophical text which was expected reading by many courtiers and was often referenced by the poems of the Degho which had to be expertly crafted to appease the more conservative elements of the court. Leisi’s was some Tuthinan novel of some kind - acceptable enough to be read by her. Both of the girls were now starting to be visibly pregnant, a consequence of the wedding a few months earlier. The fact that Hulang was to be a father in the future was something which did concern him, given his own upbringing being not one of the best. The one relief Hulang did have been that Thiengji was not to be present, instead fulfilling her duties as Regent. Alas, his attention was averted from his book and his thoughts when he felt the plane reach the ground.

The Detu and his sister-wives waited cautiously as they arose from their seats and as the door opened. An attendant smiled at them, from a half-mask as they were guided to the exit out into the cold. Hulang wore a thick fur cape, made from the grey-black hide from a Ngankhiag mountain tiger and held together while the two sisters were given additional white fur which was incorporated into their dresses. Hulang’s clothes were despite the relatively casual nature of the affair — still ornate than usual yet still fell into traditional Akai Ziehbiuk clothing styles. The overall colour theme was black it being the traditional colour of both Detu’s and the particular branch Hulang hailed. Sun-like geometric patterns covered the thick silk robes — the first set were tightly fitted among the abdomen and covered by a gold collar which was detailed with golden embroidery depicting a stylised ouroboros. The second layer was comparably less tight, with a hwentwan over layer, masking the two swords Hulang carried. The first was his personal jian, which he kept constantly at his side while the second was the fine sabre handed to him by Frederik at his wedding - each attached to a silk belt. He wore thick leather boots, Hulang interestingly was the only one to lack a hairpin — his two sisters already possessing large complex contraptions with Jietsiu’s being a golden multi-headed snake which is interwoven with the strands and buns of hair, while Leisi’s was done in the style of a tiger’s paw. Both were detailed with gems mined from Akai although cut with the help of Sjealandic jewellers. A consequence Hulang’s hair was much more free flowing than that of his siblings, albeit was braided to prevent it from being too loose. It was another aspect of Hulang’s already androgynous features, which further reinforced with his uncomfortable similarity with his twin. They all wore their masks although this time Hulang planned to remove his at the soonest opportunity.

Along with his siblings, he was attended to by a set of eunuchs and female attendants although one would struggle to tell except for the more feminine looking masks employed by the females. The most elaborately dressed was the Jade masked eunuch — Li Hi — whose mask in question like the others was expressionless except from a faint smile. The rest wore prestigious crimson robes. Regardless the Detu took in a deep breath as the cold air filled his lungs and began to make his way to Frederik who was greeting other guests such as his peer and Akiyasu and Cucumenthi as well as a few others he was less familiar with. Regardless he began his approach, his eyes looking out on the landscape — it was with this he thought I like the cold…

[Sassau]

Søskøn Palace

Karl shook the Sjealandian Archking's hand and commented on the weather. He reiterated the warm greetings given by Frederick and commented on Asgård's winter weather.
"I see the gods have blessed us with their finest clouds," he said. "Perhaps the gods will bless us with their finest sunshine?"

He turned to the child standing with Frederick, who he assumed to be one of the other monarch's sons running around. He had turned when Frederick welcomed Karl, and after the introductions, gave Karl a small bow. Karl was slightly taken aback by the fact that this person, who was no older than 16, was a head of state, and by the fact that said person was speaking Teutonic, albeit standard Teutonic rather than Karl's native High Teutonic.
"It is a pleasure and an honour to meet you, Emperor," Karl said. "I trust the weather is not too uncomfortable?"

[Tuthina]

"Sumun will do, Your Majesty." Despite his age, the adolescent Emperor appeared to be quite aware of diplomatic etiquette befitting of his status. Not necessarily a surprise, though, as unlike most monarchs present in the gathering, most in the world knew as such that Tuthina retained its absolutism - no matter its cost - while most had since adopted some form of constitutionalism. With such huge power and responsibility, it only stood to reason that the monarch had to be at least knowledgeable in many subjects, lest one's position and privilege became unjustifiable even for those without overt republican leaning. "The weather is quite fine, as a matter of fact. I would say it is a nice respite from the blizzard of my residence around this time of the year."

[Luzarra]

“So Shall She”
Airstrip of Søskøn Palace
Asgård Stad, Archkingdom of Sjealand

The echoes of footsteps, on marble paved floors
The moons light peeking through the stained glass
The sounds of forever-closing convent doors
The song of an unsatisfied lass

Oh great bard, please do sing
The tale of a tormented soul
Dire her circumstances did fate bring
Of her heart, upon so great a toll

Like a bird entrapped behind bars of lattice
She reaches for the moon's light
A lady who lives in the name of gratis
Against fate she will fight

The shadows of past reach out
She looks back to see nothing
The foreboding sentiments of doubt
The years of unrequited loving

Specters sing a song of mourn
Foreshadowing her demise
The pain of such leaves her soul torn
Drowned in a sea of lies

Her beloved father had died
Yet life continues to move on
Her tears have yet to be dried
For her father’s crown hath don

Her brother soon after took the throne
A proud and greedy king
The sins he has done, he will not atone
Leaving his dear sister in grief to sing

Called upon by her brother one day,
The maiden shunned his glory
She decided to turn destiny away
Come and bear witness to her story…

When she woke up, the young woman could sense that her plane was making its descent. The flight from Aberasturi to Asgard was not an especially long one, though she slept through most of it nonetheless. The young woman was usually restive on plane flights, this one being no exception. She had fallen asleep in her cabin aboard the small private jet, upon a wide couch with ample cushions.

A knock came upon her closed cabin door. “Princess Helen,” the lady-in-waiting said in a pleading voice. “We are almost there. Ready yourself for arrival.”

“Yes, yes,” Helen answered with a groan as she made herself get up, stretching as she came to stand. It wouldn’t take her especially long to prepare herself to be received, she didn’t think. Not as long as it took me to leave Luzarra, anyway. The Kingdom had been on high alert since the death of her father, King Gartzea IX, and depending on who you asked, chaos.

The late king was by most accounts a good man and true, who was the first of any modern King of Luzarra to institute democratic reforms upon his accession to the throne, going as far as dismantling the military junta that had ruled the country for the better part of a hundred years. He endeavored to forge a lasting peace with his enemies, modernize the country and provide essential services to the often neglected people of Luzarra, risking various plots and coups to either overthrow him or abolish the monarchy all together.

Yet, now that King Gartzea was dead, all bets were off. In many ways, his eldest child and successor, Prince Zigor, favored the ways of old, and restoring the glory of Luzarra as it used to be. Gartzea had limited, but not abolished the state police, and Zigor was rumored to be interested in re-expanding their power in Luzarra in order to more directly combat the Revolutionary Front and the Urrutian Liberation Army, the former of which sought to overthrow the monarchy and replace it with a socialist republic, and the latter wanting to achieve independence for Urrutia, the largest province of Luzarra far to the north.

It was during this period of succession that the invitation came from Sjealand, where the Archking Frederick VI hoped to gather various monarchs from around the world to visit. Zigor was in no position to attend, and while initially opposed to allowing any of his younger sisters to go, was eventually persuaded by Helen to relent. Zigor told her that only she could go, with the rest to remain in Luzarra.

Indeed, the relationship between Helen and Zigor was never especially good, the two of them being less than two years apart in age. Helen was twenty-seven, having been born in January of 1990, while Zigor was born in the late summer of 1988. Even as children they clashed, for Zigor was an ugly, moody and sickly boy, while Helen was the pride of the royal court. Zigor was always aware of this, and had come to regard his sister, and now his heir presumptive, with jealousy and resentment.

Their mother, Soldana, dotted on her children, especially Zigor, who needed a mother’s love more than most. As fate would have it, Queen Soldana would predecease her husband by ten years, as she would succumb to injuries incurred from a skiing accident in the winter of 2007. None in the family were the same after that, especially the King and Zigor, who took her death especially hard. Helen had to emerge as the lady of precedence at court after that, so she had little time to mourn compared to the rest of her family.

I shouldn’t dwell on such things, she thought, approaching the mirror on the wall of her cabin. In the mirror, she could see her blue eyes staring back at her, like two great stormy seas beckoning to their depths. Above her eyes were dark eyebrows, and between them was a straight-bridged nose. Beneath, full melon-colored lips that concealed two rows of straight, pearly white teeth that sparkled in the light. Her silky sunrise blonde hair fell straight down past the base of her neck, surrounding her slender shoulders like wispy drapes.

At roughly five foot five, Helen was a well-figured woman, shapely and curvy where it mattered and lean and thin about the arms, legs and waist. Her skin was fair and smooth like cream, yet possessing of a healthy glow that flushed red when she blushed. In fact, she did blush when she noticed her disheveled hair, which she began to comb with a nearby brush that had been sitting idly on a nearby shelf.

She took what time remained to her before landing to organize her hair, opting to let it hand long and loose behind her back, and took the opportunity to brush her teeth. Having slept in a simple beige shift, Helen took a deep breath as she turned to undertake her most important preparation task. Now, to put on my dress…

In Luzarran high-fashion circles, it was an unbelievably beautiful, show-stopping, fabulous winter coat fit for a Princess. It's one of the Aberasturi fashion scene’s finest original couture designer samples, meant for a very special woman indeed. Perhaps it was fitting, then, that it would be donned by the Princess Royal of Luzarra.

The coat could be worn two ways – as a three quarter length coat, or unsnapped inside and worn as a graceful beaded cropped jacket over an evening pants set. The beaded, two-piece bolero and coat ensemble was made of white silk charmeuse. The designer machine stitched a champagne colored, rayon silk chenille yarn, free hand, into a peacock feather design. Sparkling silver metallic thread added radiance without overwhelming the lovely natural tones and sheen of the chenille. Silk cord represented feather quills.

Lustrous freshwater rondelles and rice pearls, and silver lined glass beads added shimmer and weight – captured the elegance of the peacock feathers on ornamented fabric. A classical and subtle, yet dramatic cut draped gracefully on the female figure. A suggestion of the Renaissance, and the illusion of a bird’s wings, was reflected in the sleeves’ design.

Helen found that like most true couture pieces, this was as pretty on the inside as out. The skirt of the coat was hand quilted in vintage pearl cotton in a feather stitch. A peacock feather applique embellished the snap-in sleeveless bodice for the skirt. The separate cropped jacket's silk charmeuse lining was finished in a deeply cut Venice lace. Hidden, silk covered snaps fastened the two parts together.

Cotton-knit fleece and silk organza interlined the entire coat, feeling like the softest doe's skin, and added structure, warmth and loft. The skirt lining was hand quilted using vintage silk pearl thread in the feather stitch. A vintage, peacock feather-shaped silver toned, rhinestone clasp hooked the coat at center front.

By the time Helen had finished getting prepared, the plane was just beginning to land. It touched down smoothly despite the inclement winter weather, which seemed as bad as it did in Luzarra, a country known for cold winters and wet summers. Once the plane had come to a complete stop, Helen emerged from her cabin and gathered around her modest entourage, which consisted of half a dozen guards, a herald, a pair of servants and her lady-in-waiting, which happened to be her noble-born friend Lady Gurain Bacque, tall and fair with black hair and blue eyes.

“You could have asked me and I would have helped you get dressed,” Gurain told her charge upon first glance. “You look splendid, your Highness.”

“Thank you,” smiled Helen. “We shouldn’t delay for too long…I wouldn’t want to keep the Archking waiting.” Three guards lined up in front of Helen, and three more at her rear, along with Lady Gurain, while the servants remained behind to gather up the baggage. Once everyone was in formation, they began to walk out of the plane down the flight of steps that had been lowered down into the snowy pavement of the palace runway.

When Helen emerged into the winter air, the royal anthem of Sjealand began to play. How welcoming, she thought with a faint look of amusement. The Archking wants to remind me that I’m in Sjealand, as though I didn’t already know. All things considered she didn’t mind, merely finding it an interesting observation.

Across the pavement they walked, joined by guards of Sjealand, who escorted them to an interesting scene. A long carpet had been sprawled out across the snow, lined by soldiers. The soldiers lining the carpet wielded sabres, outstretched and angle up and away from them, forming a tunnel of sharp steel. Helen passed through the sabers, walking beneath them carefully.

The skirt of Helen’s dress had been dragging along the snow, her sparkling golden hair fluttering in the wind, with blue eyes as deep as the sea flashing at her surroundings. The herald had unfurled the banner of House Sarasua, that hoary house that had ruled Luzarra for the better part of a thousand years, and various smaller areas before that. It had never changed, always featuring the green wyvern on a black field, wearing a crown of blood.

At the end of the carpet was a podium, surrounded by more soldiers, though these were armed with rifles. As Helen made her final approach to the podium, another anthem began to play. There stood the Archking, tall and dignified with a smile on his face. Helen was not the first to arrive either, as other foreign persons of import had arrived before her. The Archking had been greeting them when Helen arrived. Off to the distance she noticed a sleigh, which made Helen flash a puzzled expression.

At the end the carpet, Helen stopped, and her herald announced her once the Archking had noticed that she was present. “May I present, Her Royal Highness Helena Anna Maria Soldana of the House Sarasua, Princess Royal of Luzarra, Princess of Galama, Princess of Xiana, Duchess of Monzura, Countess of Karbada and Lady of Balagua.”

Helen smiled, and did as formal a curtsey as she could muster. “Your Majesty,” she began, in a voice that flowed melodiously. “On behalf of my family, and my country, I thank you for your generous invitation. To express his gratitude, our family would like to offer you a gift.” Signaling one of her guards, Helen took from him a long, oaken case, closed with a latch at the middle. She opened it, and took the contents out before facing the Archking again.

Within was a Middle-Age Viking war axe, with an extra broad, sharp cutting edge. The blade consisted of a hooked beard, and an up-swept thrusting horn. The shaft of the axe was an old, yet still sturdy wood with Viking patterns engraved into the surface. “This is an artifact from a war in the old days,” Helen told the Archking as she drew out the axe and laid it across the underside of her tender, upturned wrists. “It was no doubt the weapon of a great warrior of your country. It should be with a great warrior of Sjealand once more.” Helen lowered her head and extended her arms out, so that the Archking could take the axe at his pleasure.

[Sjealand]

For Frederik it was a relieving sight to see that Karl and the Tuthinan got along, it was important for him and his country that these two got along, being Sjealand's most important allies. Handing the drinks to Karl he quickly downed his own, the liquor quickly warming him.

''Gentlemen, i shall be with you in a minute, i imagine we will he quite the event later''.

He give a small bow to them both as he moved on to the lec. He had known Paweł from chilhood, him being Frederiks cousin. With a great smile he embraced the Lec. Smiling what was for once an honest smile. Even a small laugh escaped him as he greeted his cousin. His long fur coat and furry mittens did prevent him from completely shaking Paweł´s hand but at least he gave it an honest try. Leading him over to Akiyasu and Karl he quickly introduced the three to each-other, speaking in Teutonic for Karls sake, as Karl sadly had never been that competent in Tynic.

''Karl, Akiyasu, if i may introduce you to my cousin Paweł Òłówski, exiled king of Lecia and Prince of Sjealand. Unlike you two he actually lives fairly close by down in Asgårds city centre, but if we are lucky enough he will surely live in Szimóngôcz soon enough! Speaking of Lecistan you two should try their cuisine at some point Paweł has been teaching me and it is phenomenal.''

Being lucky enough to tower over the other monarchs his caught the gaze of Louis-Charles III of Ainin. The pretender to a monarchy his family was instrumental in deposing, and the pretender to Sjealands age-old naval rival. He did however thank the gods that Cucumenthi was gone. Louis-Charles claiming sovereignty over Karazawa was going to be a hot-button issue this day and the longer he could make sure nothing happened the better. He took a step back, welcoming Louis-Charles into their little group.

''Louis! It has been ages since i last saw you. How is your family?''

He shook Louis-Charles' hand, if anyone were going to make this akward it certainly wouldnt be him. As he was handed the wine he could only smile.

''Saltèrne wine if im wrong? Grown in the Suvarde highlands of Montagnes from 1998. Is it grown by you personally? I have quite the fondness for Montagnes wine!''

The wind of the next plane struck his back harshly, overbalancing him for a second. Quickly he shook his head towards the plane, the blood from his cheeks disappearing immediately. The Akai had arrived. Granted he found the Tuthinan habit of incestous marriages utterly repulsive, as did the rest of the civilized world, but the Akai... the Akai took it one step too far. Against his own wishes his government had sent him to Akai half a year ago to bear witness to the union of the child monarch and his mother-sister-cousin-aunt aswell as his sisters. It disgusted him, but it kept his investments in Akai profitable, so it was better than living off the state like many other monarchs did, so it was a necessary sacrifice. He led Hulang and his entourage towards the group.

''Good that you could arrive my boy, we will be departing for the palace soon enough. Have i introduced you to the others?''

He gestured to the other monarchs, as he again turned to greet the Luzarran. Luzarra had been to Sjealand on sea what Swastria had been to them on land. They had even gone so far as to participate in the Ambrosian invasion of the Tårnøerne, so this was an important visit, it would help warm up relations that were crucial for contact between Sjealand and Tuthina. He bowed as the young woman approached. It wasnt anyone he was familiar with, but that was why he was here wasnt it? As he was handed the axe he gently lifted it up. It was big enough that a normal man would have required two hands to handle it properly, but it fit fairly well in his one hand.

''Thank you, Your Highness, this is most generous of you. I shall treasure this as a show of godwill between the two of us. It is an utmost pleasure to meet you''

He turned to the others

''Now my friends, let's get this show on the road shall we? As you can all see i have some sleighs lined up for you, Cucumenthi and Elis are already waiting in the one, so you can join them or sit in one of the others. It's a four kilometer ride to the palace, so i hope you enjoy the snow, you'll be seeing a lot of it''

He let out a simple laugh as one of his aides brought him a horse.

''I myself prefer the horse to the sleigh, so pardon me as i ride''.

With that he swung himself upon it and began moving.

[Tuthina]

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty." Perhaps unlike his Sjealandian counterpart, neither the Emperor nor his country were particularly enthusiastic in the prospect of restoring deposed monarchies. After all, in the mind of the people, what gave the monarch legitimacy to rule was that their guidance was needed for the country to live long and prosper. A country that overthrew its monarch, once wavering through the initial chaos, would prove that the monarchy was no longer needed, even if its rule would be more beneficial to the country.

Of course, Akiyasu was more than capable of hiding his thought, as he extended a warm smile and slight nod to Paweł. "I look forward to enjoying the cuisine of your country once such chance arises."

Following some idle chatter as the rest of the guests had arrived and received greeting from the host, it was time for the Archking to lead them to the next destination of the gathering. Apparently both Elis and Cucumenthi had taken their seat in one of the sleds, while Frederik himself preferred to ride on horse instead. Himself also preferring the feeling of saddle, as the latest patriarch of the millennia-long lineage of the nomadic riders, the Emperor nonetheless opted for taking a seat with the already-filling sled, as it seemed the Sjealandian monarch did not arrange others to share his preference in this regard. He offered a simple nod with the other occupants, the faint smile on his face seemingly a permanent fixture.

[The IASM]

Airstrip
Søskøn Palace
Asgård Stad
Sjealand

Hulang

---

Hulang took to the cold well enough, being more than prepared for its various troubles thanks to the cold arctic winds which went through his lands along with his general appreciation of it. His sisters, however, took it less easily, Leisi clearly shivering despite her layers while Jietsiu tried her best to mask her distaste for the cold. Awaiting the Ditu was the Archking, his face devoid of colour. Perhaps he shall appreciate the absence of Thiengji this time around, I know that I will he mused as he approached Frederik. His attendants gave a Monic bow — their hands intermeshed underneath their robes and his sisters bowed their heads. Hulang, as was customary, did not bow.

''Good that you could arrive, my boy, we will be departing for the palace soon enough. Have I introduced you to the others?'' Frederik began, seeming eager to receive the Ditu. How much of this was, in reality, dependent on his investments in Akai and fulfilling the obligations of etiquette or whether it was genuine. Hulang the ever cynical decided it was the former.

“To receive your greetings is a great pleasure, Your Royal Majesty,” Hulang in his formal manner began — speaking Danish, only to be echoed by his sisters who responded in good Literary Tuthinan, which inferior to the Ditu’s own was still proficient.

“Thank you for receiving us Archking,” they both said before along with Hulang began to remove their masks revealing their complex hair arrangements and generally albino features which barely stood out among the background of snow. The Ditu’s androgynous features added to the femininity of the trio.

In response to “I do not believe we have been introduced to the others, although I recognise Sumun and Cucumenthi over there, the rest I do not recognise. Can I ask, before this possibly becomes awkward whether I can address you as Frederik? To make this easier you can address me as Liannu as well.” Hulang then gestured to one of his attendants, a female from the sounds of it who carried a long briefcase. “It’d be impolite of me to not offer a gift as worthy as you did me at my wedding, so I wish to present two.”

Hulang cautiously took the briefcase, glaring distrustfully at his servant before opening it carefully before Frederik. Inside was a huge Elephant rifle, one chambered for the.470 Nitro Express round of which there were several at the end of the box. It possessed three barrels, and the whole structure of the rifle was as impressive as its firepower. Each animal on the Sjealandic coat of arms was featured in some way, with gryphons, dragons, stags, lions, horses and bears being incorporated somehow on its dark steel frame. Should I strike him with it? Tempting but inappropriate.

“I had it commissioned if we needed to meet again, this rifle I hope will be most suitable for whatever enterprise you may engage in with it. The second gift is comparably simpler but a historical curiosity, it is the last bill paid for a thrall by my ancestors. However, due to the trade ending and being outlawed, the sum seems yet to have been paid. While it is null I wished to replicate the sum as a gift, so we did some calculation to add 194 years worth of interest to get seventeen million, five hundred and thirty-nine thousand Rigsdaler and with it a hopefully valuable document. We hope it will be most useful to you.”

After this Frederik dealt with the other guests can he beckoned to them and said: ''Now my friends, let's get this show on the road, shall we? As you can all see I have some sleighs lined up for you, Cucumenthi and Elis are already waiting in the one, so you can join them or sit in one of the others. It's a four kilometer ride to the palace, so I hope you enjoy the snow, you'll be seeing a lot of it'' Followed this with a simple laugh as some servant of his brought him his horse: ''I myself prefer the horse to the sleigh, so pardon me as I ride''.

Hulang quietly coughed as he entered his sleigh along with his sisters, along with Elis, Akiyasu and Cucumenthi — preferring that he would ride himself if he could. Hulang nodded to acknowledge the other guests, studying them each with his analytical gaze. Hulang was acquainted with Cucumenthi due to his previous visit to Akai yet Hulang knew the boy-emperor he had not met in person arguably better. The two wrote to one another frequently when they could, and the Ditu enjoyed such interactions. Yet due to the nature of their positions, he was yet to meet the Emperor - something he desired to rectify when as soon as he could.

The route itself was quite scenic as to be expected, the snow adding a sense of ascetic beauty to this bare scene as they passed frozen lakes and snow-covered trees. Hulang observed the scene cautiously but then Søskøn Palace began to enter his view. It was a gorgeous building with a near complete symmetry only being broken up by the odd tower. The structure built primarily out of red brick with stepped gables, towering spires and light sandstone decorations — each helping it stands out in the thick layers of snow. Hulang admired it as the sleigh approached, and he nearly did not notice when it gracefully came to a halt outside it. It was then after the sleigh’s doors were opened he exited out before the baroque construction before him.

[Karazawa]

Cucumenthi was already in the sledge, comfortably "cocooned" in his giant furcoat when the other monarchs slowly arrived. First was Elis of Katranijev, which he saluted with a great smile and a nod.

"Salutation, your majesty. Lady Elis I presume ? A pleasure to meet you." Said the Caconzi in french, to be understood. He never met the famous "Wari Kuinipireni", "Lady Singing-bird", and he never really cared about her. He only remembered that, once upon a time, there were discussion about "modernizing" the monarchy by opening an official account for Cucumenthi. Which he always refused to do, as he found it all to be well beneath him. He left it to his agents to go and fish datas and interessing notes in these "social networks", but still the debate regulary came up between his aides. That is until Elis started to tweet. Then nobody ever talked about social medias again.

For this, she had the old Caconzi's gratitude. But that's not something she needed to know.

Then it was the young Akiyasu, the god-king of Tuthina. Once again, Cucumenthi never had the occasion to met the young emperor of the "Most Serene Empire". But he did met his grandfather. Which was also his great-grandfather, if he remembered the complicated and tortuous imperial family's tree correctly. Cucumenthi appreciated many things about Tuthinan culture, but the incestuous practices were not among them. He still noded and smiled to the young boy who already had a bit of wisdom in his eyes. He'll probably make a good emperor once he reached adulthood. That is, if his aunt-mother-wife the Regent accepted to go. The passage of the torch was always the most interessing instant of a regency and Cucumenthi looked forward to it.

"Ah. A most interessing sledge it will be. Your majesty, it's an honor." He continued in Aininian french. Not that he was unable to speak Literary Tuthinan, and a bit of its Vernacular version too, after all Cucumenthi did wrote two or three books entirely dedicated to Tuthinan's history and culture and a resume of them that is still a classic used by the tourists visiting the country (the advantage of a country stuck in time : you only need to write about it once and never bother updating it again), but he prefered to speak in a Lingua Franca that he was sure everybody would understand.

The last monarch to get in the sledge was the other incest child god borean emperor of the meeting. One that Cucumenthi did meet before, for once. And another one for which his regency's end will be an interessing sight to behold. In the end, everyday Cucumenthi was thanking Saturn for the long life he gave him. So now his son is old enough so that he won't need a Regent when time come.

"Majesty Hulang. It has been a while." Cucumenthi smiled at the Albinos a bit too tall for his age. The Lazarins hadn't been lucky in their eugenic experiment. Their blood was completely degenerate. A shame. The Caconzi gave them two or three more generations before their offsprings stop being viable. But that was their problem.

"Any of you had the occasion to travel by sledge before ? You'll see, it's an interessing experience. Vert comfortable."

[Katranjiev]

Elis got into the sleigh. She got herself comfortable, and glanced at the others getting on the same sleigh as her: the Cucmenthi had taken his seat, and soon enough, she saw the young Emperor, Akiyasu, get on the sleigh.

She would really want to get to know Akiyasu well, especially considering that her great-grandfather and her father had received the Honour Sabre of the Red Jade Embroidery. It would be nice to receive one, but as long as she became acquaintances with Akiyasu, things would go well.

Then the next monarch got in: Hulang from Akai. She took a deep sigh, as she heard the rumors about him that have spread across the international community, primarily about his incest, polygamy (having married his mother and his sisters), and his "unnatural" composition that seemed to be deliberate. All in all, Hulang seemed to give her the creeps.

Soon enough, the sleigh started to move, and just as she was admiring the landscape in the four kilometer/two-and-a-half miles to the palace, a voice interrupted her. She turned around to see Cucumenthi II speak.

"Greetings, your majesty," she replied in French. "I'm Queen Elis of Katranjiev. How are you faring today?"

[Lecistan]

Paweł and Frederik embraced warmly, Paweł smiling as he hugged his younger cousin. They were related through Paweł's mother, Grethe, and Paweł was technically a Prince of Sjealand in addition to the pretender to the Lecian crown. As a member of the family, he had known Frederik since the Sjealandic monarch's childhood, and his exile in Asgard had allowed him to spend time with him. Frederik quickly moved Paweł over towards two other attendees, one of whom he recognized as Karl of Swastria, Sjealand's neighbor and rival, and the other of whom he deduced to be the Emperor of Tuthina, an enigmatic nation located not too far from Lecia in West Borea.

"Karl, Akiyasu, if i may introduce you to my cousin Paweł Òłówski, exiled King of Lecia and Prince of Sjealand," Frederik said in Teutonic. Paweł knew enough of the language to understand Frederik's words, though he was more comfortable in Tynic. As Frederik spoke, Paweł nodded his head and smiled at Karl, before bowing slightly towards Akiyasu. "Unlike you two, he actually lives fairly close by down in Asgård's city centre, but if we are lucky enough he will surely live in Szimóngôcz soon enough! Speaking of Lecia, you two should try their cuisine at some point. Paweł has been teaching me and it is phenomenal." The young Tuthinan emperor turned towards Paweł, nodding at the exiled Lec. "I look forward to enjoying the cuisine of your country once such chance arises," Akiyasu smiled.

Paweł laughed, somewhat uncomfortably, at the remark on his exile. He remained somewhat wary that the other monarchs would think less of him, the mere pretender to the throne of a particularly small country. Frederik's remark about Lecian cuisine also elicited an uncomfortable laugh; his Sjealandic counterpart was perhaps being too charitable about Lecia's rough, rustic cuisine, which was strictly limited by the country's rough environment and comparative dearth of agricultural land. "Thank you for your kind words, Frederik," Paweł replied. "And I hope that such an opportunity comes sooner rather than later, your Highness."

Now, Paweł had a chance to survey the other monarchs attending. Four monarchs, excluding Archking Frederik, had arrived before him; Karl, Cucumenthi, Elis, and Akiyasu. Karl X, King of Swastria, was an amiable enough person, though his interactions with Paweł had been few. Cucumenthi II, Caconzi of Karazawa and probably the ruler closest in age to the 58-year old Lec at this meeting of overwhelmingly-young monarchs, was similarly vaguely known to Paweł. Nevertheless he knew these two better than he knew Elis, Katranjiev's young, erratic, and often-thoughtless Queen. Her penchant for making rash comments on social media was infamous, and he knew the syndicalist regime in Lecia had used it as proof of monarchy's shortcomings in at least one propaganda statement. But while Elis was too present, Akiyasu- Tuthina's Emperor Sumun- had seemed almost elusive, largely represented by his mother-sister-regent Anteko due to his age. It would be interesting, without a doubt, to learn about the boy who was to become Esquarium's most powerful monarch.

And with Akiyasu it was hard to keep one's thoughts from slipping to Hulang of Akai. Hulang was a little older and much paler, but they were both Monic child god-emperors whose family trees quickly began to look like circles. If Akiyasu was merely a question mark, Hulang was an outright enigma, due to the reclusive nature and bizarre culture of his country. Less foreign than Hulang were the other monarchs who had arrived after him, Princess Helen of Luzarra and King Louis-Charles III of Ainin. He knew little about Helen, but was well aware that Luzarra and Sjealand- much like Swastria and Sjealand- were historic rivals, and that her presence here was a sign of reconciliation, and a political triumph for the Sjealandic monarchy. Louis-Charles, the only other deposed monarch in attendance, he had heard described as something of a character, though not necessarily in positive terms; perhaps some of that was the work of Ainin's republican government, Paweł speculated, recalling the Lecian government's campaigns to sully his name. As the only two pretenders present thus far, Paweł suspected they might wind up pushed together by those monarchs who still retained their thrones; regardless, he decided, he would likely walk away knowing whether or not the claims about Louis-Charles's personality had any veracity.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Frederik's voice. "Now, my friends, let's get this show on the road, shall we?" the Sjealander said jovially. "As you can all see, I have some sleighs lined up for you. Cucumenthi and Elis are already waiting in the one, so you can join them or sit in one of the others. It's a four kilometer ride to the palace, so I hope you enjoy the snow. You'll be seeing a lot of it," he continued, laughing at his own joke. Paweł smiled slightly, recalling photographs of his desert homeland. If he ever did return, he thought, even the weather might leave him feeling out of place.

He sighed slightly. Now was not the time for those thoughts, he reminded himself, pushing them to the side again as Frederik mounted a horse. Noting that the first sleigh was largely filled up by Cucumenthi, Elis, Hulang, and Akiyasu, Paweł opted to get into the second one instead, smiling graciously at the servant who opened the door as he approached. He sat himself down on the sleigh, looking out at the snow-covered landscape, waiting for the remaining monarchs and pretenders- Helen, Karl, and Louis-Charles by his count- to board the sleigh.

[Tuthina]

Although not exactly by chance, the sledge Akiyasu ended up riding happened to house probably among the most interesting collection of characters, as the young monarch turned his head and nodded towards each of the riders.

Cucumenthi was the first to break the brief silence following the vehicle being filled. Being one of the older participants of the event, as well as one of the longest-reigned, the mannerism and kinesics of the Caconzi clearly reflected his wisdom accumulated through his years.

Unique among the participants, he also had a personal and rather nuanced insight on the Empire, even more so than his Sjealandian counterpart despite having a much longer and closer relations. Not only did Cucumenthi spent a considerable amount of time studying in Tuthina, he also managed to refine his experience into writing with help from a historian and sociologist. Of all the monarchs gathered here, Cucumenthi might be the one Akiyasu is looking forward to converse with the most.

"The honour is mutual, Your Majesty." It was no secret that he was expected to be speaking the lingua franca instead of his own tongue, even though at least three of them participants were probably fluent enough in it for conversation. Having to sit through countless lessons on how to communicate since as early as he could remember, he was capable of speaking in the fitting upper class accent of its native speaker. The rigorous training meant he was probably more fluent in it than in most vernacular tongues of his own subjects: as much as the officials disagree vocally, he did not need to talk to his subjects as much as to his equals.

"I have been looking forward to meeting you in person, ever since I have the pleasure to read your work regarding my country. It is a truly interesting experience to see how my people are seen in the eyes of others." After all, by using copper for mirror one can reflect on one's exterior qualities, but only by using people for mirror can one reflect on one's interior qualities.

Neither Elis nor Hulang appeared to be as talkative, the former of which came off as a slight surprise for the Emperor, considering that her most notable attribute was her logorrhea on the Internet. Then again, perhaps it was for the best, since he was not sure if there were much to be talked about with either of them given the semi-regular exchange with the latter in the form of letters.

[The IASM]

The sleigh
Søskøn Palace
Asgård Stad
Sjealand

Hulang

---

Much to the young monarch’s mutual delight and displeasure the sleigh possessed a variety of curious characters. Elis was the one who Hulang found to loath the most, as he presumed anyone with the inkling of intelligence would. Her vapid nature never ceased to be as pestiferous as humanly possible. The Ditu hoped to avoid her but this seemed an impossibility.

As the Ditu rather rigidly sat down, his excessively controlled demeanor continued to demonstrate itself. He was more than conscious of it, and savoured the enigmatic nature he had. Elis seemed all too aware of this, seeming somewhat discomforted by the presence of the young monarch.

Thus his gaze shifted as he took a seat next to Cucumenthi on the other hand demonstrated one conception of the wise king. While wielding little power officially, his influence proved his most potent weapon according to the archived reports and files created annually on persons of interest by the War Historical Department.

After greeting the Emperor incumbent and Queen Elis, the Grand Old Man of Karazawa did the same for the Ditu as he entered.

"Majesty Hulang. It has been a while." Cucumenthi said recalling the wedding which he attended, before smiling at him and his siblings. Hulang in turn offered a polite smile yet his eyes did not smile with his mouth. French? Such a vulgar tongue, let us speak in something you’d be familiar in.

“Caconzi, it is a pleasure to meet you for a second time, for you were such a marvelous guest. Your gift holds a valuable place in my office - I hope you are well?” Hulang decided to respond in Azawarecha as he did the first time the two met, this time somewhat more proficient in his polyglotism. Several hours of tutelage under staff from the Bureau of Diplomacy with Barbarian Societies assisted him in this measure.

He then switched to French to make this particular message clear: “Not to be in ill spirit but one does wish to inform my esteemed accomplice that, the proper from address is your perfection and please call me Liannu.” The nature of era names he hoped would be understand by nearly all here; Cucumenthi through his knowledge of similar customs in Tuthina and Akiyasu for similar reasons. A part of him jokingly suspected the nuances might go over Elis’ head but perhaps that was being too kind to her.

After a time appreciating the snow covered countryside, his attention then turned to Akiyasu. The letters which the Ditu wrote to the Emperor and the ones he received were some of the more gratifying things that occured in the life of the heir to Jieke on a regular basis. He regarded Akiyasu as a friend He decided to address his friend in another familiar tongue, Literary Tuthinan: “Your Most Serene Majesty, Emperor Sumun. It is a pleasure to meet my peer and friend at last. Please give Her Most Serene Highness, the Grand Princess Rinka my regards. I trust that your journey was quite pleasant?” Hulang was more than familiar with the customs of Tuthina and seeked to maintain the intense formality he found must comforting, hence why he addressed the fellow youthful monarch by his era name and with full formality. He then rather gracefully gestured to his two sisters as while he loathed small talk, he might as well do something useful. “Also, may I introduce my two sisters, Empress Dhiansun and the Empress Nalnag.” Dhiansun was the courtesy name of Leisi while Jiesiu’s was Nalnag.

“Your Most Serene Majesty, it is the utmost pleasure to be in your presence,” Jiesiu dryly declared befitting her aloof and haughty glare.

“Emperor Sumun, I do share my brothers joy in your presence here today,” Leisi much more warmly responded, giving a graceful smile contrasting her sister quite considerably. The two Hulang found formed a dialectic which had yet to form a synthesis. Hulang tried to take measures to contain it when he could but otherwise they knew when not to embarrass or inconvenience their brother ‘Hu’.

After a while cucumenth trying his best to slay the social coolness spoke: "Any of you had the occasion to travel by sledge before ? You'll see, it's an interesting experience. Very comfortable."

“Yes, in the various mountain ranges in my home land it is possible as well as on the southern island. Alas it is a rare phenomena which is far too beautiful to be missed.”

[Luzarra]

“The Sleigh”
Søskøn Palace
Asgård Stad, Sjealand

The Archking gestured to the other monarchs, pretenders and princesses, one after the other in turn, before addressing Helen. The Archking bowed as the young woman approached, and received her with grace and dignity…as far as Helen could tell. After she offered him the gift, he took it and held it in his hands, examining it closely. ''Thank you, Your Highness, this is most generous of you. I shall treasure this as a show of goodwill between the two of us. It is an utmost pleasure to meet you.”

“And you as well, your Majesty.” Acknowledging me as my own person and not simply my brother’s proxy, she thought, both flattered and impressed. She knew what some might think about her being there. That this is a show of submission to Sjealand, or that this is my brother appearing weak and vacillating. In Helen’s mind, this was just her wanting to do something other than being cooped up with her sisters under their brother’s thumb. So let the great rulers and pretenders of the world think what they shall...

After speaking to Helen, the Archking turned to the others and said. “now my friends, let's get this show on the road shall we? As you can all see i have some sleighs lined up for you, Cucumenthi and Elis are already waiting in the one, so you can join them or sit in one of the others. It's a four kilometer ride to the palace, so I hope you enjoy the snow, you'll be seeing a lot of it.”

Helen began to look around at the various sleighs, and then noticed a horse being brought to the Archking, who was laughing in his state of amusement. ‘'I myself prefer the horse to the sleigh, so pardon me as I ride.'' In a swift motion, the Archking swung himself unto the horse’s back and began riding off through the snow.

I prefer riding horses as well, Helen thought, suddenly lamenting that she did not have a similar opportunity. Alas, she had to make due with what she had available to her. Realizing that, Helen approached one of the sleighs where various individuals of note had gathered, and did what she could to make herself comfortable in it, while her entourage made other arrangements. Helen waved them off, mouthing “it’s alright.”

The Princess Royal suddenly found herself among illustrious company. The young Emperor of Tuthina was seated in the same sleigh, along with the Emperor of Tuthina, the Great Ditu, Queen Elis of Katranijev and Cucumenthi II, Caconzi of Karazawa. Surely it was a snug fit, but in the cold, such close company was not unwelcome. Unable to courtesy to them properly, Helen instead inclined her head with grace and poise.

Addressing each of them in a language that she thought they’d understand, Helen regaled them with her best Tuthinan. “Your Majesties,” she said to the Emperor, the Ditu, the Caconzi and the Queen. “I had not dreamed of being in such illustrious company. A rare honor then that has been bestowed upon me.” They had all been speaking amongst themselves before Helen joined them, and after she spoke her pleasantries she remained quiet, preferring not to interrupt their conversations, but willing to engage them in conversation should one of them address her.

Helen was aware of the fact that the others seated in the sleigh outranked her. In fact, she had only chosen it because there was another woman present, that being Queen Elis, and that made her feel a little more comfortable. Back in Luzarra, it was customary for a Princess of Court to always be in the company of other women whenever in public, in order to appear proper be assured of proper conduct.

Riding in a sleigh on a cold, snowy winter night brought a flurry of memories rushing back to Helen’s mind. Childhood experiences with her now deceased mother and father and her younger sisters and all their friends. In those bygone days they would play outside, building snowmen and great castles, throwing snowballs and lay down and making angels in the snow. It had been many years since she’d done any of those things, but riding in the snow made her want to do those things again…

It's been a long time
since I went back to
what I still think of
as the home
of winter spirit,

A land of glowing snow
and glowing skies,
bright colors gleaming
in the twilight hour

Across the northern sky
like paint,
across the crystallized ground
like the Sun's reflection
in multicolor sparkles,

And it'll be beautiful now,
because it's December,
and there'll be snow
up to your knees,
and there'll be sleighs
led by horses,

And there'll be ice
on the streets –
just make sure not to slip.

There's something special
about sitting around the fire
in the early dusk
at half past two in the afternoon,
and I like to think
that if I could go back there,
it'd make me smile.

There's just something
about Luzarra in winter
that makes up
for the dark evenings…

[Ainin]

Louis-Charles smiled as Frederik took the bottle without hesitation. Even though the archking had probably just feigned pleasure at the gift and regurgitated information from the label, he felt it as a personal vindication of his excellent choice of present. After exchanging the obligatory compliments with the appropriate people, he headed towards the sleighs with the other monarchs. However, despite fast-walking to the vehicles in a futile effort to stay warm in a parka that was way too thin for the weather, past some of his peers who took leisurely strolls, he was amongst the stragglers on account of his late arrival. With great annoyance, he reluctantly walked towards a seat on the half-occupied second carriage, with what he saw as unworthy company for the Emperor of the Latins.

Resting his arrogant ass on the wooden bench, he longingly glanced at the Tuthinan boy-emperor and old (but rather problematic) acquaintances like the Caconzi. With his piercing eyes, he silently cursed the swiftness of Queen Elis, the crazy hag who in his opinion ran her country like a developmentally-challenged hippopotamus, and longed for her seat amongst the elite.

He resigned himself to this setback and, with great difficulty, formed the rough outline of a semi-passable polite smile as he turned towards his fellow passengers onboard. It was time for pleasantries, but he was in no mood after the great indignity that he had suffered, so he kept his remarks brief.

"How are you gentlemen?" he asked of the Swastrian king and Lec pretender without the usual cheesy charm in his voice.

Now in great mental pain, he forced his vocal chords to continue with the small talk even as every neuron in his brain violently attempted to prevent him from fraternising with these lowlifes. "Nice weather today," he blurted out. Of course, it wasn't (he was freezing) and the lack of interest the topic was betrayed by his deadpan tone.

Looking out at the countryside as the procession got underway, he began counting the number of snow-capped trees he saw in an effort to kill time. At least the ride was to be short.