Stopping by Tuthina on a Snowy Evening [ATTN Tuthina]

[Ainin]

Final approach to Anënkapa International Aerodrome
Ainin One, 15:23 local time

---

Cao Nima lounged lazily in his office chair, sipping on a glass of sparkling wine. On his desk were fifty pages of official protocol painstakingly prepared by his office, having largely gone unread. The president’s casual posture, with his feet rested cosily on the stack of papers, would to an observer have appeared as night and day with his elegant stately regalia, an old-fashioned waistcoat suit adorned with the gold-embroidered sash of his office and the medal of the Order of Saint-Charles the Great. For an inexperienced statesman about to embark on the defining state visit of a career, he seemed almost inexcusably relaxed, lazily flipping through the sports pages of the morning’s République.

His secretary, looking at him through a glass partition from the next room, worried about the lack of preparation demonstrated by the veteran showman. Trying not to make her doubts seen, she occupied herself by looking at the deceptively serene carpet of storm clouds beneath them through the window. Unknown to her however, he had prepared extensively for the visit with Marianne de Lotbinière through long sessions in her office that sometimes stretched into the early hours of the morning, and simply needed some rest to deal with the physical toll that flying had always taken on his comfort.

As the president prepared to flip to page B14, the room cackled with the static of the address system. “Attention all passengers,” began the pilot, “please take your seats. We are beginning our final approach into Mintupo.”

Glancing up at the briefing notes, and then back at his newspaper, he begrudgingly got up and strapped himself into his jump seat, the paper still in hand and the notes still untouched. As the plane began to descend from the atmosphere, it began shaking as it plunged beneath the cloud cover into a seemingly bottomless dark abyss. The late afternoon sun disappeared from the secretary’s view as the outside view became foggy, then dark, then pitch black. The engines roared ferociously as the pilots added power to compensate for the violent downdrafts that relentlessly rocked the airframe. President Cao, who since childhood had suffered from horrible motion sickness, leaned back in his seat and breathed heavily as he tried to fend off the onset of nausea.

Twenty minutes and the deployment of a barf bag later, the plane was lined up with the runway and the landing lights became visible. From his office, Cao looked out the window and then at the picture of the airfield that graced page 1 of the briefing notes. He smirked as he contrasted the sunny, grassy stock footage of the airport on the report with the thick blanket of snow that covered the actual airstrip. The president, who suddenly remembered complaining about the humidity to his staff when boarding the jumbo jet back in Huimont, suddenly developed an intense longing for the tropical climate that he had left in the morning. Shooting another quick glance outside, where the snow had caused the runway landing lights to become barely visible as a faint glow beneath the uniform white blanket, he recoiled at the thought of stepping outside into the biting frost.

The plane hit the runway with a slight thud – all things considered, not a bad landing for the weather – and sent slush flying in all directions. The aluminium jet, after correcting for a slippery runway that briefly made the landing gear slide towards the left, then began taxiing down the runway towards its final destination. Even back on solid ground, the engines roared with a ferocity that made the cabin tremble as they struggled to deliver enough power to the aircraft with the tires beginning to lose traction on the wet and slippery surface and with the power-guzzling ice protection systems operating in overdrive.

Suddenly, as President Cao continued breathing heavily into a paper bag to recover from his bout of airsickness, his office door swung open and Foreign Minister Remy Micheaux walked in with a manila envelope in hand and a slight grin of satisfaction on his face.

"Don't you just love the snow?" the minister asked as he peered outside at the magnificent coat of crystalline white. Despite having lived in Ainin his entire life, his body never fully adapted to the tropical heat, and his livelihood consequently was one of ceiling fans and indoor air conditioning cranked to maximum intensity. When a heat wave brought down the power grid last summer in Huimont, he was first in line the next morning at the airport, headed with his family for an extended sejour at a Luziycan ski resort.

Cao glanced back at him with nothing but silent contempt on his face, too tired from the sudden onset of the illness to berate the minister for his horrible taste in climate. Realising his faux pas in bringing the topic up, Micheaux quickly pivoted back to the topic of the state visit.

"Anyways," he said after a brief but immeasurably awkward moment of silence, "let's talk a bit about the deplaning procedure."

The president silently sighed at the reminder that he would soon have to leave the heated confines of the airplane, straight into the raging tempest outside. Nonetheless, he attentively listened.

"Because of the storm, the Tuthinans have moved the welcoming ceremony indoors. After deplaning, we'll be brought to a vehicle that will take us to the terminal, where we will be welcomed into the country by an inter-services honour guard. Just follow the official who'll greet you at the entrance; you'll walk with them past the troops like you'd walk with Marshal d'Iberville past the Republican Guards back home in the palace courtyard on Trieve Day. He'll show you to the position of honour, where you'll stand while the band plays the national anthems."

Nodding mindlessly, Cao agreed. He hated that these events required him to stand for an eternity at attention, but he supposed that he had no right to complain given that he wasn't exactly forced to accept the presidency.

"After that, the Tuthinans will show you to your train. Your staff and I won't be far behind. Any questions?"

Before he could answer, a man in a blue tunic walked in and saluted. After Cao reciprocated the acknowledgement, the officer began speaking.

"Sir, the plane has come to a halt. The airstairs will be deployed shortly. You'll be out in the open for a minute or two and may want to dress appropriately."

"Thank you, commandant. You are dismissed."

As the aide-de-camp nodded and walked out of the room, the statesman's attention quickly pivoted to his secretary in the next room over, who was still staring out the window in a mesmerised trance.

"Marie! Get my coat!"

[Tuthina]

Located at the edge towards the frigid zone of the globe, the Tuthinan metropolis of Mintupo had long since been enveloped by the freezing embrace of winter. The combination of thick, stormy clouds, high mountains and the already-setting sun had plunged the vicinity into darkness, with only rows of lights from both the runway and the terminal building guiding one's way amidst the heaping snow.

Expectedly, the aerodrome was accustomed to severe coldness of its location. Being one of the principal gateways to the rest of the world, it was equipped with arrays of instruments that could, in theory, guide aircraft pilot to a safe landing even if the pilot was landing blind. For the sighted pilot on Ainin One, as the gigantic plane approached the runway, it became clear that the local maintenance had applied ample anti-icing chemicals, allowing the tarmac to be visible, complete with the uncharacteristically international markings on its tip, showing its almost due-north direction and relative location among the parallel runways.

As the plane made its landing safely, it was soon being guided towards the small hill occupying the west side of the runways. The preceding military airport made use of the mountainous terrain to bury its hangers from potential attacks, a trait that the aerodrome mostly inherited. Expansions in the following decades resulted in a good portion of the terminal being exposed from the hillside, with perhaps more effort than needed to try having it blend in the evergreen covering the rest of the hill.

The large size of the plane disallowed it to enter the smaller indoor section directly. Instead, it was allocated the VIP area of the aerodrome close to its dedicated terminal, allowing its passengers to return to sheltered warmth quickly after deplaning. By the time Ainin One stopped completely, several silhouette had already been standing in place to welcome the guest from the tropical country.

Even with the majority of the hilly island shielding the city and its airport, the dry, cold air from the zenith of the world still managed to funnel into the bay, blasting into the face of the Aininians as soon as the door opened a small gap to the outside. According to local calendar, currently they were in a period literally translated into "major snow" for reason now obvious to them. That said, Cao would hate to imagine what the local weather would be like in the next month, during the "major cold" period.

The welcoming party aligned themselves to the airstairs, forming a short corridor leading to a black limousine. Wearing the characteristic Tuthinan helmet and dressed in winter garments, it was hard to discern any minute physical characteristics from the soldiers, apart from them most likely being picked from the best, or at least good-looking individuals from the Imperial military. That said, beneath the thick garments and goggles, the Aininians could tell that a significant portion of them were female.

One individual by the limousine stood out among the soldiers, though. For one, her clothes were both more elaborate and thinner than the thick, almost armour-like protection of them. Similar to stereotypical depiction of Imperial Cult female clergy, the wisteria-coloured lower garment and the twine of gold between her lapels indicated her superior position to virtually all members of the state religion.

"Welcome to the Most Serene Empire, Your Grand Excellency." She appeared to be quite young for her job, perhaps in her early thirties at most. Of course, in a country like the Empire, she had one of the most important, if not the only relevant qualification for her position as the hierophant of the Imperial Cult, namely being a member of the Imperial clan. Sorting through the family bush of the clan revealed that she was the half-sister of the current Emperor… or spouse of his father? That said, the Empire's means to prevent the harmful effects of inbreeding from manifesting in all known members of the Imperial clan, as far as the Aininian intelligence could gather.

"Please, enter the car." She seemed to be reasonably proficient in the Aininian language, although with a slight accent. The compartment of the limousine was quite luxurious and, perhaps more importantly, warm, as Cao and Micheaux was welcomed inside, followed by the lady. The rest of the entourage would use a comfortable, if less luxurious vehicle planned to reconverge later.

As the door shut the worsening snow outside, the hierophant leant towards the intercom and talked to the other side in her native language. Despite being turned on, the vehicle was rather quiet, even when it smoothly accelerated and turned towards the terminal, a staple of electric cars.

With everything in motion, the lady turned back to her guest. "My name is Tapëko. I will be escorting you to His Most Serene Majesty soon after the ceremony is over." She introduced herself with a smile, before handing a warm cup of transparent alcoholic beverage to both of them and then herself. A distilled beverage with about twice the alcohol as common beer, it bore a unique mixture of pure and mellow scent, with the warmth quickly warming up the drinker from the frigid snowstorm.

It did not take long for the limousine to enter the technically underground terminal. Built to accommodate smaller planes and exalted passengers, the indoor hanger seemed to be air-conditioned, with stylised traditional painting of flora, fauna and natural landscape decorating the walls with soothing colour to mitigate the potentially claustrophobic nature of the place. A small attachment of the honour guards, in more elaborate traditional uniform compared with the outdoor, wintry soldiers, was already in place as the car slowed down before them. Another curious difference was that the unit had a disproportionate amount of female among the ranks, even with the slightly unbalanced sex ratio of the country in mind.

The guests were soon escorted out of the car, fortunately into similarly warmed air, before walking past the rows of honour guards. With the guests in their place, Tapëko nodded to the guards as they stood perfectly still. Soon, the military band began playing the national anthem of Ainin. The mix of familiar instruments with the native, less familiar instruments worked together better than one might expect, giving the performance a unique accent that was nonetheless pleasing to the ear.

With the last stanza and chorus completed, the Imperial anthem followed its Aininian counterpart after a brief respite. As a pure coincidence, the Imperial anthem made use of the same heptatonic scale as the Aininian anthem, although it was - of course - in minor scale. As a monarchy that paid heavier attention to its monarch than everything else, the Imperial anthem naturally changed every time a new monarch was enthroned, with the band playing its latest addition, implemented about seven years ago. Compared with the more festive, upbeat music of the Aininians, the Tuthinan anthem had almost always give a mellow, perhaps majestic, and usually melancholic tone, whether intentionally or not.

With both anthem completed, Tapëko led them towards the terminal proper as the limousine made its exit. Similar to the enclosed tarmac, the interior of the terminal was decorated with traditional art of the country, covering both the walls and ceiling with stylised depiction of natural beauty, intertwined with human activities - historical events, folklore and mythology of the like.

It was clear that the entire environment was engineered by those in authority to provide a pure, romanticised image of the country the moment any esteemed guest stepped into the terminal. There were no commercials obscuring any of the artistic demonstration within the building, with the only prominent display showing several characters of the local writing system. While not formally educated about the peculiar script of the land, Cao's Namorese upbringing allowed him to make an educated guess, that the monitor displaying the numeral "12" which, in the local temperature scale, apparently meant "turning water and some diesel into bricks".

It soon became obvious that this entire wing of the terminal was off-limit to everyone else at the moment. Not only was the polished floor clean to the point it almost looked like it had never been used, the only other individuals Cao and Micheaux could see were clearly there for them, either as supporting staff to ensure everything proceed as planned, or as guards and security ensuring that there would not be unwanted guests for the visit. The combination of modern devices and ancient garments, state-of-the-art firearm and traditional blade was probably a deliberate arrangement as well, intending to showcase Tuthina's almost-pathological attachment to its tradition.

After passing through some corridors, the small convoy arrived at the depth of the terminal, where a train platform awaited them. Security in the area was definitely heightened even compared with the terminal, although at the same time the personnel not only had become all-female, but they were also dressed more like the Imperial Cult clergy than anyone from the military or law enforcement. At the other end of the platform parked a train in white livery, its streamlined, aerodynamic contour indicating its potential high speed.

Passing through two diligent guards flanking the door, Tapëko led Cao and Micheaux on board. The Imperial emblem marking the livery and the doorway indicated that this was the personal possession of the monarchy, where the absolute monarch of the realm would be meeting them. The remaining officers had probably be escorted on board in the waiting car somewhere on board, presumably with less security, pomp and circumstance.

The lady raised her hand before the door leading towards the main compartment and knocked on it gently. With the intercom cracking to life, she underwent a brief exchange with the other side, culminating to the sound of metal locks disengaging. With a brief delay, she slid the door open and revealed the chamber beyond.

Dedicating the vast majority of space for a single room, the interior was embellished with fine craftsmanship beyond what most could reasonably afford. The floor was plated with smooth, black planks polished to the point of being a flawless, mirror-like surface, accompanying the decorative heartwood pillars embedded into the wall, its fragrance providing an oddly relaxing atmosphere.

It was essentially a saloon car, with about ten seats in a combination of sofa and more regular chairs aligned by the walls. Some of them were paired with equally refined working tables, the natural pattern of the lumber giving them alternative bright and dark strips that further enhanced their appearance.

Before one of the tables next to the right side of the train, a teenage boy could be seen sitting by the window, his hand holding what appeared to be some sort of paper document in the local script. Dressed in saffron robe, the androgynous youth was adorned with a fitting amount of ornament, made of materials ranging from native jade to Sjealandian gemstone. There were no doubt that he was the undisputed ruler of the realm, the one that the Aininians were slated to meet.

"Your Most Serene Majesty." Tapëko introduced herself to him. Upon hearing her summon, the Emperor laid down the document and looked towards her, before his eyes shifting towards Cao and Micheaux. Without a word, he passed the paper to the lady next to him, before standing up and straightening his garments.

"Thank you, Chyun'an." He gave her a slight nod and turned towards the two guest. He appeared to be quite fluent in their language as well, even though the interpreter was already standing by. "It is nice to finally meet you. I can only hope the pleasant feeling is mutual."

"Please, be seated." He gestured to the two ornate chair before him. Once they had seated, the Emperor nodded to her secretary, who promptly left the compartment towards the front end of the train. It did not take long for it to begin departing from the station, accelerating smoothly as literally everyone on the other side of the window offered their deep bow towards it. With that, he finally took his seat and reverted his speech to Literary Tuthinan for the interpreter. "Welcome to my realm. You may call me Sumun."

[Ainin]

As the airplane's heavy plug door swung open, the snowy winds, which had seemingly begun to die down, suddenly began to blow with a renewed vigour. In lieu of a welcoming committee, the icy precipitation surged into the mahogany-panelled hallway, swiftly overpowering the small valves from which heated air trickled into the cabin. The airman operating the hatch, clad in a light cotton tunic made more for the humid subtropics than the frigid north, shuddered as the chill wrapped around his body, and scrambled to hold his cap to prevent it from flying off with the gust. What he wouldn't give to be on a beach in the Charlines right now.

Resigned to several more arduous minutes of this wintry task, he walked against the draught to the door frame and stood at attention, trying his best to ignore the freezing sensation in all of his extremities. As President Cao emerged from the airplane's main corridor, he attempted to raise his arm in a rigid salute, but barely got to neck level before reflexively allowing a noticeable shiver to take control of his arm.

"At ease, adjutant," the president quickly replied, himself bundled in a greatcoat beneath which lay three layers of clothing. "No need to salute me in this abysmal weather."

As Cao took the few steps towards the door and stuck his head outside the airframe, his visibility dropped as a furiously stirring white substance covered his glasses, then his nose, and finally painted his black trenchcoat a powdery white. With great difficulty, he climbed down the airstairs towards the blurry reflection of what appeared to be the Tuthinan party, entirely camouflaged behind the abundant precipitation if not for the headlights of their vehicles. Micheaux, who was right behind him at the top of the stairs, was still negotiating his way down the descent, silently cursing his short-sighted decision to wear utterly frictionless leather loafers.

Only when he got within point-blank range did he finally begin, after squinting, to see the outline of a person, then a few more, and finally of the procession that was to transport him to the protection of central heating. "Welcome to the Most Serene Empire, Your Grand Excellency," he heard in a peculiar but easily comprehensible accent from the first person that he reached. By now, the airsickness that he felt upon landing was the least of his worries. He was freezing. Gladly following the guard, he found his way to the car and sighed in relief as he felt the radiance of its heated interior. As he got closer to the door, the world disappeared behind a wall of condensation as the glass lenses on his face turned opaque. After a few brief moments feeling for the door, he finally found its frame and pulled himself in.

A second guard closed the door behind him, sealing him from the depths of winter outside, as he ripped off his gloves and glasses and began to feverishly rub his hands together. After a few seconds, the other passenger door slammed open as a figure that resembled more the Abominable Snowman than anything else scrambled inside. The man, a mesh of blond hair showing beneath the pile of snow that had come to rest on the top of his head, panted and shivered. It was Remy Micheaux, and Mintupo was nothing like a Luziycan ski resort.

"Don't you just love the snow?" Cao wryly repeated to the minister, recalling their conversation while in the air.

Blushing, whether out of coldness or frustration, Remy stared blankly at the president and kept mum, his accusatory look being worth a thousand words.

Hoping to put that mutually embarrassing episode behind them, the statesmen sat quietly in the vehicle as it made its way to the terminal. Although the sight of a million white crystals falling from the heavens was a beautiful one, both men were far too preoccupied with elevating their body temperatures to look outside, preferring to look blankly at the headrest straight ahead. Only when their minder began talking did they finally snap from their frostbitten, trance-like state.

"My name is Tapëko. I will be escorting you to His Most Serene Majesty soon after the ceremony is over."

The president nodded in acquiescence, while the minister opened his mouth as if to say something. However, several seconds passed without a word, his heavy panting from the trek down the stairs having preempted the use of his vocal faculties. Unable to speak, he then meekly closed his mouth and nodded as well.

---

After bearing witness to the usual pomp and circumstance of the martial display that was the performance of the national anthems, the two Aininians quickly followed their guide down the hallway of the eerily deserted terminal, awed by the elegance of the decoration in contrast to the spartan layout of airports back in Ainin but at the same time feeling an unexplained unease at the total silence that greeted them in every corridor. Walking on the glossy floor, upon which their reflections were faintly visible, they couldn't help but ponder the seemingly unlikely possibility that the entire building had recently been erected for their visit.

Only when they reached the vast expanse of a railway terminal was the deafening silence of the terminal finally replaced by the weak but intensely familiar grumbling noises of a locomotive. Eager to escape the artifice of the sanitised terminal, they made their way into the train and followed their docent to the imperial compartment, where a young man wearing ornate and unmistakably imperial garments was waiting. Although they had both been briefed about his age and knew exactly what he looked like, seeing his youthfulness in person still struck both men.

"Thank Saturn that I don't have to bow to this kid," Micheaux silently thought to himself.

As the emperor began to stand up, they came to a halt in front of him and raised their arms to form the customary fist in salutation, before accepting his invitation to take a seat. Micheaux, having agreed with Lotbinière back in Huimont to largely play a supporting role and to allow Cao to do most of the talking, continued playing mute whilst President Cao began the conversation.

"It is a great honour to be here, Sumun," the former entertainer declared with the firmness that comes with decades of screentime. "The links of amity that have been forged between the Aininian Republic and the Most Serene Empire have served both our nations, and the world, well. Through our common efforts we have enshrined basic principles of the rules governing nations into universal law, ensured the peaceful development of an interconnected global economy, and laid the foundations for a global peace based on the natural balance of power, and through our continued engagement we hope to continue this higher work. Within the framework of our increasingly resilient international institutions, from the Tengkong system to the Esquarian Community and International League, we believe that there is still much potential for mutual economic development and and the reaffirmation of both of our national interests on the global stage."

He paused to catch his breath.

"It is my hope that we will be able to have a fruitful conversation on ways to foster the growing trade between not just Ainin and the Empire, but the Tengkong and the Esquarian Community, the state of international security, and scientific cooperation to tackle public health and climate issues that threaten the global interest."

[Tuthina]

With the Aininian delegates offering the traditional greeting hand gestures of the country, the Emperor returned the favour similarly. Befitting to the stereotype of the Tuthinan cultures, there were multiple ways to greet people alone, based on the difference in social status and occupation of the individuals involved. The one they - along many other foreign dignitaries - used, with the fist pressing against the palm, was apparently used mostly by military personnel. However, its main merit as the "default" greeting used in such circumstance was rather that, in a rare occasion for the hierarchical Imperial society, it was one of the few that did not convey any difference in rank between the greeter and the greeted.

By the time the Emperor and his guests took their seat on the well-decorated chairs, the train had already left the platform, filling the windows with darkness. Faint humming of its electric engines echoed inside the compartment, before being absorbed by its wooden interior.

"The honour is mutual, Mr Cao." Sumun also offered a nod to the silent Micheaux. At about the same time, the female who was helping with the Emperor with his work - his secretary, presumably - had returned to the compartment, with several glasses of warm water on her tray as she distribute them to everyone around the table. Perhaps unexpected for the absolute monarch of his realm, his chalice was identical to the one offered to Cao and Micheaux, both being exquisitely crafted with equally beautiful, seemingly fluorescent green glass. It was not something unusual for the country, it seemed, as the monarchy had a liking of gifting similar vessels when they paid visit to other countries, with choice of colour varying between yellow green, orange, pink, blue and even purple.

"It is always pleasant to reinforce the mutual understanding between our countries. After all, being the dual fulcra of the world burdens us with similar vision and responsibility." The Literary Tuthinan language spoken by the young male and his country was somewhat similar to Namorese, both ultimately hailing from a valley in Namor millennia ago. However, it was both much more archaic and concise than the modern Namorese language, resulting in the usual scene where few words of the Emperor transformed into lengthy sentences by the interpreter. At the same time, perhaps being filtered through his older relative allowed him to sound more a wise adult than someone similar of his age. Then again, supposedly his imperial education had made him more knowledgeable than commoners similar in age. "I am sure such common ground will suffice in allowing both our realms to further cooperate in various fields, from diplomacy and security to science and ecology."

As the Emperor paused to sip from his goblet, the darkness outside the window was interrupted. It appeared that the walls of the tunnel was lined with numerous lights that, when combined with the speed of the train and the window frame, became silent projections not unlike a muted television. Noticing that, he turned his gaze towards the windows briefly, before engaging in a brief exchange with Tapëko. "It seems that they did not turn off the advertisement. Quite a pleasant surprise, actually." He remarked as the projection played out beyond the glass. Without audio that presumably would be played inside a regular train cart, it was difficult to discern its precise message, but it appeared to feature both the natural scenery of the country in four seasons, as well as some - probably romanticised - depiction of its people and business.

It was a relatively short film, perhaps limited by the high speed of the train and the relatively short tunnel. Moments after it ceased, the train passed through a station without slowing down significantly. It was probably where the usual express line would end, transporting individuals from the aerodrome to near the heart of the metropolis without bottleneck in the more conventional stations in-between. While the station was lit, its only occupants at the time were apparently the same armed guards that the Aininians saw in the terminal. Soon, they left their view as the window fell into darkness once more.

"Above all, it is my sincere hope that you will find your stay in my realm a pleasant respite from your daily work." The Emperor smiled alongside Tapëko, as they both nodded to Cao and Micheaux.

---

With several turns alongside the tunnel, including a noticeable change of track diverting it from the usual route towards Kutacar, where both the Imperial government and foreign embassies were located, the train finally slowed down as its approached the end of the line in Sakan. Like the station in Anënkapa and Jyenglëm Hap they passed through, it was ornamented in the same Tuthinan art style, providing the same opulent and sanitised feeling to the guest.

However, unlike them, this station was not officially part of the rapid transit system, intended only for use by either foreign dignitaries or when the monarchy needed to leave the capital and to the nearest airport - fast. Perhaps because of that, the platforms were devoid of the more "commoner" amenities like benches and clocks. It was similarly secured by armed guards, who simultaneously offer their bow towards the train as it entered the station.

With the train finally stopped, the Emperor and his aide stood from the chair once more. "Now, shall we? We can continue our friendly exchange while we are on the way." Led by the royalty, the small entourage left the train and was immediately received by both the warmed air of the train station, as well as the salute from the military personnel guarding the place. "Khï." Quickly scanning them, the Emperor said to them, which apparently caused them to return to their upright posture.

The platform itself was connected to a large, grand staircase with similarly polished surface leading upwards, the side walls decorated with ink brush painting depicting various fauna and flora, a staple of Tuthinan art. At the same time, though, the Aininian briefly noticed that on the opposite side of the platform, there was a similar staircase leading deeper into the ground as well, but the destination of that staircase was obscured by darkness. As they strolled towards the surface, the cold air outside began to compete with the conditioned warm air inside, although the natives were naturally not fazed by that. From what they knew about the weather of these fair isles, apparently it was not even the coldest time of the year yet.

Soon, they emerged from the stairway and entered the grand hallway of the Imperial Palace. While the interior was crafted with more traditional material like wood and stone, it was but a façade used to cover up the more modern and utilitarian - but apparently too tasteless for many Tuthinans - material that actually formed the backbone of this annex. If information from intelligence was correct, then the Imperial Palace might as well be one of the most well-secured place in the country, if not the entire world, with its gradual expansion employing more and more advanced technology and material across the millennia, until all was eventually rendered obsolete by the advent of thermonuclear warheads. That said, the complex covering the entire hill was still an intriguing cross-section of evolution in defensive architecture for those interested.

Upon leaving the staircase, the Aininians were immediately greeted by a large mural sitting in front of it. Occupying the centre of the hallway, it was a world map towering several metre above the pedestal. Like many things Tuthinan nobility appeared to like showcasing, it was definitely something at least several centuries old, indicated by both its ancient, navigational projection used, as well as the fact that outline of many landmasses further away from the Home Islands were approximation to say the least. However, at the same time, all landmasses barring the most desolate part of the world comprised entirely of money from that area, many of them hailing from long-gone era - quite a few royal Aininian coinage ended up being on the map as well. The pedestal, carved from what must be a rather large piece of white, polished marble, contained some kind of description in the local writing, but it was too archaic compared with even Narmorese Ventzi to make educated guess.

"Quite a fitting decoration for our meeting, is it not?" The Emperor looked upward towards the map, where the Home Islands were - naturally for its day - at its centre. "This map of all that is under heaven was commissioned a long time ago, when my country first ventured beyond its shore more than a millennium ago. It represents both our achievement and our ideal, that despite our difference, we are all ultimately connected by our nature as humans, and from that we can find a common ground for survival prosperity even if there might be... disagreement on matters like politics and affairs of state."

[Ainin]

The two Aininians stood silently as the young emperor spoke, for very different reasons.

The neophyte president, who grew up too poor to travel and, even when he found the means to go on vacation, was always kept at home by his busy TV schedule, loved exploring new cultures. This was his third state visit abroad, but even so, he remained enamoured by the poetic sounds of the ancient language. One could swear that his eyes almost twinkled with wonder at the serenade of exotic sounds and alien words that filled the train car and wrapped themselves around his euphoric ears. He remained totally still, awestruck, as the emperor spoke, afraid of making any noise that would disturb this spoken music.

His minister, however, could barely hide his disinterest at the emperor's remarks. At a glance, it appeared that he was politely listening to the monarch with all of his focus, but on closer inspection, it soon becomes obvious that Micheaux was in fact observing the wall behind his head, silently counting the number of chinks on the panelling to pass the time. Perhaps it was an overexposure to foreign languages when he grew up abroad with a travelling diplomat father, or perhaps it was the countless international meetings he's sat through that would have been made infinitely more efficient if everyone had just agreed to speak French, but the foreign minister, ironically enough, had an intractable disdain for alien tongues.

Nonetheless, to an observer the two men appeared identical, both practicing good manners as guests and staying respectfully quiet while their host spoke. When he finished, they remained silent as the translator explained the emperor's remarks. Both nodded, Cao in agreement with what was said and Micheaux in acknowledgement of his physical presence in the room.

Just as Cao was about to speak once more, the faint light of the dying sun outside suddenly disappeared, as if someone threw a sheet over the train. They had entered the tunnel. Even the usually-stoic Micheaux couldn't help himself from glaring at the high-definition moving frames that decorated the walls of the structure. Although both men had seen similar advertisements in the tunnels of the Talon Metro before they were removed back in the 80s, those faintly-illuminated yellowing posters paled in comparison to the Tuthinans' modern, video-like ads whose vivid colours seemed to pop out of the walls.

---

The darkness of the tunnel disappeared as abruptly as it had appeared, the incandescent lights hanging above the platforms basking the train in a synthetic white that contrasted sharply with the traditional decor of the station itself. The two statesmen looked outside the window, surveying their new surroundings, and then turned their stares at their host, expecting a prompt for how to proceed.

"Now, shall we? We can continue our friendly exchange while we are on the way," came the invitation shortly afterward.

Before the translator could even open his mouth, both men grasped the rather obvious meaning of the sentence and rose from their seats, following the emperor out the train.

Despite being subject to an incessant display of aesthetic opulence since their arrival in Tuthina, neither man was prepared for the sheer scale of the torrent of grandeur as they entered the Imperial Palace. From the wood panelling that seemed to cover every surface, as if the walls beneath could not bear being unclothed, to the larger-than-life murals and maps at every corner, the fact that this was a residence fit for an emperor was far beyond any dispute. Although he himself lived in a fairly large castle in Huimont, Cao's residence paled in comparison with its bare walls of stone brick occasionally interrupted by the solitary Latin Revival painting or marble bust.

As they came to a stop in the room with the aforementioned map, they began looking for their homeland, initially being confused by the layout that placed Tuthina in the centre rather than on the peripheries like on the modern maps they grew up with. After it, it was simply a question of tracing the outline of Nordania with their eyes until they landed on their beloved isles off the continent's ragged eastern coast. The Ainin that they saw was firmly in the uncanny valley, with the general shape roughly recognisable but severely distorted by the compressive effects of the projection and the obvious inaccuracies that come with a reproduction of an extremely distant foreign landmass in the pre-GPS, pre-globalisation era.

Lost in the forms and contours of the map, they only snapped back to reality upon hearing the familiar of their host.

"Quite a fitting decoration for our meeting, is it not? This map of all that is under heaven was commissioned a long time ago, when my country first ventured beyond its shore more than a millennium ago. It represents both our achievement and our ideal, that despite our difference, we are all ultimately connected by our nature as humans, and from that we can find a common ground for survival prosperity even if there might be... disagreement on matters like politics and affairs of state."

"Indeed so," replied President Cao, having mastered the art of using filler words to buy time for improvising more coherent remarks during his long career as a television broadcaster.

"We are the heirs to this legacy of global interconnectedness. We must continue to foster and shape its accelerating growth for posterity's sake. What our nations have accomplished together in this regard makes me indeed very hopeful for the future."

[Tuthina]

"Absolutely. After all, among the myriad of polities across the globe, ours alone have the privilege - and burden - of great powers. As such, we are obligated to uphold the existing international order." The interpreter took a brief break not audible from the Emperor, as she tried to find out a proper phrase in the language of the Aininian guests. Perhaps it was one of the numerous idioms in the literary languages that did not make sense without knowing some obscure literature from a millennium ago. "There is a saying that goes, 'without order there is only chaos; without structure there is only stability', and as many belief systems - mine included - demonstrate, struggling against chaos is nothing short of a sacred duty."

"I am sure you are eager to discuss the details of our mutual understanding. In such case, let us go to a more proper venue for it." With that, the Emperor and his followers led their way away from the mural of a prosperous world, and towards the grand staircase leading upward. The balcony and corridors overlooking the hallway only further cement the grandiosity of the Imperial palace, with the convoy being able to look upon the position where they stood not long ago, scattered light leaving no corner unilluminated.

Upon seeing the presence of the Emperor, the guards flanking the doorway immediately offer their deepest bow, before opening the redwood door for him and his guest. The door led to another corridor that was narrower, merely allowing half a dozen people to walk side by side at the same time. Thick, clear windows by the side showed that it was probably one of the many corridors encircling the exquisite palace. With the Imperial residence located further in the north, the dim winter sun had already fully set behind the mountains surrounding the capital city and the Lake of Heavenly Mirror. The darkness looming over this foreign land was only barely penetrated by the distant city light from the Mintupo metropolis, as well as smaller dots across the lake, perhaps some kind of military installation given its clear view to this location.

On the other side of the corridor wall hung another collection of paintings, further showing the vast collections of the Imperial lineage. However, this corridor appeared to be decorated with relatively more modern and - for a lack of better words - cosmopolitan works, with many of them bearing expressionist and impressionist characteristics that complemented the traditional style without overshadowing it. Similar to the one they saw before, the art pieces depict figures and events of varying degree of notability and relevance, although some were clearly more modern than others, featuring divine figures giving their blessing to clearly modern inventions like artificial satellite.

With deep bow from another pair of guards at the other end of the hallway, its door opened to reveal the venue for the meeting. Perhaps for a nice change of pace, the room where the head of the two countries would have their more in-depth conversation was more modest than the grandeur of the palace that had enveloped them since their arrival. The room, although still quite large for its intended purpose, had a floor formed by multiple rectangular straw mats, together forming a well-aligned surface that would be soft to the touch for those not wearing shoes when walking on it.

The walls of the room were, like the majority of interior the Aininian guests had seen so far, decorated with wood beams and what appeared to be bleached, snow-white paper, though closer examination would reveal them to be something more durable mimicking the appearance and texture of such. Unlike the more public corridors, the walls themselves remained pristine white, without the characteristic ink brush painting of the country. Instead, decorations of the room assumed the form of tapestry and more three-dimensional pieces of art. While many of them were produced domestically, the room also showcased some more foreign objects, ranging from the somewhat similar Namor to ones from Nordania, the opposite side of the globe as this hermit kingdom.

In addition to the inanimate art, the room also featured multiple potted plants. Although the usual choice of flora for Imperial diplomatic meeting tend to be flowers associated with the guest country, the winter season made that difficult for the national flora of the tropical country to bloom in all its glory. Instead, a subspecies of winter daphne was chosen as the main flora of the room. Unlike its more mundane relative, the lush green leaves were decorated with golden borders, and the pink blossoms bore a pleasant fragrance. While the meaning behind this particular choice was seldom known to foreigners, what could be certain was that it was among the best they could provide, and it was never a coincidence.

Decorative wooden beams can be seen framing the ceiling above them, with warm lights emitting from the side lights surrounding the ceiling. In fact, it appears that direct lighting was exceedingly rare in the country as a whole. Naturally, it saw fewer beautification than the walls and even the floor, with the wooden beams bearing the burden of it, as the depolished surface featured intertwining flora and fauna typical of the art style of the country.

A rectangular table made of black hardwood - maybe ebony - occupied the centre of the room, with the floor beneath it forming a cavity that was also lined with straw mats. Although it appeared odd at first glance, those with more experience with modern Tuthinan architecture would recognise it as a result of "compromising with foreigners", in particular those who sat on actual chairs instead of just a cushion on the floor, as the space allowed them to assume their usual sitting position in a Tuthinan style room. Similarly, the cushion seats also feature additional structure, making the end product resembling legless chairs.

The long room was separated by a wall of sliding doors, currently slided to the side to reveal a functionally identical room on the other side. The only notable difference was that aside from several young female attendants, the further room was also preoccupied with an elder male. His clothes, traditional as always, was nowhere as elaborate as that doned by the monarch or his tangled family, but it was nonetheless made with fine material and finer hands that signified his authority and wealth. As the briefing beforehand stated, the bespectacled man was Hiroyuki Tesigahara, Secretary of States for Rites. Outranking the Imperial equivalent of foreign minister, the old functionary was best - in fact, only - known for being the architect of both the cultural Monic Union and the gradual reform of the Tengkong system into something more concrete.

"As agreed before, I would like to have a brief conversation with Mr Cao to exchange our views on how our polities should cooperate. In the meantime, would Mr Micheaux like to enjoy some of the beverage that my land offers? I am sure my faithful servants would be glad to treat you to a warm welcome before you are to commerce your work." The Emperor asked as he looked towards Tsigahara, who steadily stood up and bow to him and his guests.

With the two foreign dignitaries agreeing, the servants began performing their duty. The Emperor, casually walking towards the table after removing his boots, was flanked by two maidservants who helped him out of his outermost coat, before seating him on the seat before a calligraphy tapestry. At the same time, Cao also received a similar welcome, helping him to take a seat by the adjacent side of the desk. Micheaux, on the other hand, was escorted to the connected room on the other side of the slided doors, where his Imperial counterpart was already present. The servants, once helping all guests be seated, motioned towards the slided door and separated the two room again. Despite the seemingly thin doors and paper-like separator, they were surprisingly sound-proof.

---

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Mr Micheaux. I am Hiroyuki Tesigahara, Secretary of State for Rites of His Most Serene Majesty." The elder bureaucrat offered his welcome to his Aininian counterpart, filtered through his own interpreter. "It must be tiring to accompany your superior throughout the long journey to this faraway land."

"I am nowhere as elaborate as His Most Serene Majesty, but perhaps a spirited local beverage will help you relax while our respective head of state discuss their matter?" With a brief exchange between Tesigahara and one of the servants, she offered another deep bow to the two, before disappearing behind the sliding doors forming half of the walls in this enclosure. After a while, she revealed herself sitting on her knees as she gently pushed a tray of two glasses into the room, which was then taken over by another servant that delivered the drink to the two foreign ministers.

As customary for glassware in the country, the glass cups used to hold the hot drink were made of tinted glass, this one golden-coloured. While the carving on it was both form-fitting and decorative as usual, the one thing that separate it from other artefacts from the country was the fact that it would fluoresce bright green under ultraviolet light, like in most glass cabinet with disinfecting function. Of course, there were no such light in the vicinity at this moment.

The content of the glass bore the distinct colour of coffee, slightly lightened by addition of milk. While its scent was dominated by the richness of high-quality coffee, it was easy to tell that the drink was also a cocktail with alcohol in it, probably distilled grain wine of the country. Complementing each other, the scent of the drink alone was more than enough to show its reinvigorating properties in the long, harsh nights of winter.

"Indispensable for working overnight in winter." It was clear that the old man genuinely enjoy this beverage, as he took the glass and raised it a bit for Micheaux. "Let's enjoy ourselves for a moment before our work arrives."

---

On the other side of the blind, one of the all-female servants also carried with her a tray of drinks, though the golden-tinted glasses were instead filled with hot, black tea, with its scent suggesting an addition of cider and corn spirit. With the heat evaporating away most of the alcohol not displaced by honey and lemonade, the alcohol content was low enough to just be enough to be noticed.

"Traditionally, people of my country greet our esteemed guest with distilled beverage to lift their spirit. While many of us very much enjoy a nice bottle of liquor, we have since learnt that conducting diplomacy while intoxicated might not be the best idea." The Emperor said half-jokingly. Despite how outlandish it might sound, given how an average politician, diplomat and even heads of state act in Esquarium, that was probably a valid concern. "As such, the Office of Culinary Affairs also maintained a wide selection of less alcoholic beverage for official occasion. Of course, there are still undiluted drinks for guests who wish to enjoy it after they are no longer obligated to stay sober."

"To your health and prosperity." As the interpreter convert the Tuthinan toast into an Aininian one, the monarch and the interpreter also raised their glass - yet another benefit of being a servant of the most powerful individual of the realm. Following the toast, the two leaders and the servant all enjoyed the drink, one that quickly dispel any remnants of the freezing winter. The ingredient used for it was clearly of the highest quality, noticeable even for one without professional training in the subject.

"It is actually quite funny, that the beverage we just had was prepared with the best ingredients, but most were from countries beyond our borders. My people might not be the undisputed coachmen of the sea anymore, but global trade nonetheless allowed us to enjoy the bounty of the world." His finger unconsciously circled the edge of the cup, as he brought the topic to what was to be discussed. "Of course, not all can overcome the barriers enacted by trading blocs that have become increasingly common across the globe."

"It was no doubt a powerful weapon, especially if wielded by peoples blessed with fortune, but as we learnt from history, it is from their foes, not their friends, that states learn the lesson of building high walls. And with walls standing between people, words will not penetrate them, while some of the more bellicose ones might conspire to use ram in lieu of words to remove unwanted walls." The monarch retained his smile, though it appeared that he also expressed sympathy to the state of the world, which had been waxing towards confrontation as of recently. "The walls between our polities are intangible, and demolishing them with siege is both impractical and undesirable for all who wish to see our prosperity continue."

"Of course, both our polities are restrained by our network of friends and allies, some of which having appointed themselves to moral high ground that seek to spread their particular brand of ideology above all else. But as a fellow leader of a major power, I am sure you are not restrained by such - for a lack of better words - tunnel vision." The Emperor looked into Cao's eyes. Despite being about a fifth of his age, the teenage monarch appeared to have a determined mind behind the collected, even effeminate demeanor, that could be observed from his gaze. "After all, 'we are the heirs to the legacy of global interconnectedness', and its guardians. In that regard, our polities are - and ought to be - on the same side of a wall. There are many ways that we can reinforce our mutual friendship and understanding, but perhaps the most basic connection we have would be that of trade. Prosperity, after all, is what all souls, gentry and philistine alike, seek together. Once more of our people can enjoy affordable goods from each other, only the most immutable ideologues would be willing to forego that in favour of their ideological purity. Of course, that could only happen if the leaders of our polities are to agree to it. What do you think of my proposal?"