The Royal Garden Party (Open)

[Cyretopolitania]

Peter smiled.

“Oh, really, and why are you so pleased?”, he asked mischievously, his eyes facing hers.

Ilizibith gave a sly smile and narrowed her eyes. “Well, if you cannot figure that out, Lieutenant, I certainly won’t tell you.”

The young woman sipped her champagne and looked off to the side. “So, Lieutenant, what do you in the army? Have you seen battle? I’ve watched my father’s army drill in the desert; the soldiers were magnificent. Though I do prefer our Army’s dress uniforms with their capes and plumed helmets to fatigues and body armour.

Turning to Yulia, Ilizibith cocked her head to one side. “Have you been to Cyretopolitania, Yulia? You seem familiar. Perhaps you attended one of my father’s parties? Or were you at the Excalbian Emperor’s birthday?”

[Providencia y San Andres]

Leopold laughed.

“Then we must be cousins,” he revealed, “since my ancestor King Georg I married the rather grand and autocratic Archduchess Amalia of Austria, and I’m their great grandson I don’t know how many times in a row.”

He cleared his throat.

“I didn’t know I had such a lovely cousin in a distant tropical island,” he said, leaning his head slightly towards her, “had I known that I would have put more attention to my history teachers.”

Isabelle lowered her fan. “Of course,” she said, a look of realization spreading across her face, “King Leopold I’s father was Ferdinand III of Tuscany, the son of Holy Roman Emperor Leopold II, who I believe was also the father of your Queen Amalia.”

She smiled. “Shame on you, cousin for not coming to visit. And not paying attention to your lessons!” The young woman raised her fan. “You deserve a… suitable punishment.”

Hantili shook the Felipe's hand firmly. "A pleasure, Señor. No, I am not a government official, but I am a citizen of Snefaldia despite residing here. I had to flee my country some years ago after most of my family was murdered by Field Marshal Pairi Hantili. I am the King of Isaardlang and hereditary High King of the Luwites, although my family was deprived of the throne over a century ago."

Tarku coughed lightly. "I am encouraging Mr. Hantili to consider returning home on behalf of the government. He does seem quite comfortable here, though, as a businessman and philanthropist."

“How barba…,” Felipe paused and glanced at Ambassador Tarku, then turned back to Hantili, “I mean, how distressing, Your Majesty. Forced to flee your rightful throne by your own kin.” He shook his head. “Terrible. But I am glad that you have prospered here.”

He turned to Ambassador Tarku. “This must be somewhat of an awkward situation, Your Excellency. I hope my questions have not… stirred up any… bad blood, as they say.”

[A m e n r i a]

Cheonsa chuckled a bit at the question asked to him. "Only the largest continent on Earth!" He answered, gleefully smiling. "That minus Japan and Pakistan, because of political reasons. So, tell me about yourselves, this nation, and this party. I'm eager to know more about you."

[Snefaldia]

“How barba…,” Felipe paused and glanced at Ambassador Tarku, then turned back to Hantili, “I mean, how distressing, Your Majesty. Forced to flee your rightful throne by your own kin.” He shook his head. “Terrible. But I am glad that you have prospered here.”

He turned to Ambassador Tarku. “This must be somewhat of an awkward situation, Your Excellency. I hope my questions have not… stirred up any… bad blood, as they say.”

"Your concern is appreciated." Hantili said, "but the kings of Isaardlang were deposed in 1895, so I find it difficult to be outraged over deposition from a throne no one has held for over a century. And besides, I was just a junior prince in the cadet branch of the family, until the massacre. I was a lawyer by trade before I fled."

Tarku nodded. "Actually, our own former Chancellor, Anzapahhadu Mugallu, is a member of the House of Wagasanali. The Mugallu branch. He was out of the country and escaped death."

[Providencia y San Andres]

"Your concern is appreciated." Hantili said, "but the kings of Isaardlang were deposed in 1895, so I find it difficult to be outraged over deposition from a throne no one has held for over a century. And besides, I was just a junior prince in the cadet branch of the family, until the massacre. I was a lawyer by trade before I fled."

Tarku nodded. "Actually, our own former Chancellor, Anzapahhadu Mugallu, is a member of the House of Wagasanali. The Mugallu branch. He was out of the country and escaped death."

“Still, it is a tragedy,” Felipe said nodding his head gravely. “If not for the loss of your throne,” he gestured to Hantili, “then for the violence and disturbance to your country.”

The heir to the throne chewed his lip for a moment, as if thinking hard. “Hopefully, Your Excellency,” he said at last to the Ambassador, “things are looking up for the States-Federation. Although we share no borders, you are a neighbor and your peace and stability are our peace and stability.”

He rubbed a finger across his lips. “As a neighbor, I must say that I’m surprised there isn’t more trade and investment with Snefaldia. One would think that we are natural partners for each other.”

[The Ernestine Empire]

Christina audibly sighed through the mask, opening her clutch and pulling a small card, which flashed up with her identity name and identification.
"Trust me... His spot is reserved." She quipped in a monotone voice, motioning to the mountain of a man behind her.
The Section 4 Agent looked around the grounds, identifying any possible points of danger. He also hooked up to the shuttle remotely, accessing the camera footage from their landing to assess the grounds and guests.
"Yes. The helmet stays on." Christina responded, growing slightly impatient.
We have come approximately 30,000 Lightyears, so yes, quite far..."

Even the Section 4 agent, normally the most patient people on the planet appeared to sigh a little at the equerry's bland attempt at humour.

"I see," said the equerry, "Excuse me for a moment." He retreated into the palace proper; the only sounds (that human ears could hear) was the conversation and the music from the garden beyond, and the din of traffic behind them. On occasion, when either sound lulled, the equerry could be heard on a telephone.

"...she doesn't look like a Christina Wiseman to me..." the equerry could be heard saying. His head appeared from behind a pillar, he smiled again, and then it disappeared. "I dunno," he said, "He's about three metres?" There was a pause. "I see." The phone was replaced. The equerry returned.

"Sorry about that," he said with a fixed smile, "That's fine, I can show you through." He looked at the Section 4 Agent. "There's an open route if your attendant is concerned about low ceilings."

[The Ernestine Empire]

"Of course, Your Highness," the Crown Prince said, leaning on his cane, strolling just behind Prince István. "The fresh air will be good for me. Do you have any children, Your Highness? They are perhaps the greatest joy man can possibly know. There's no greater happiness than watching your children grow to be exemplary men and women. My eldest son was supposed to accompany me, but unfortunately he had to cancel at the last minute. He's been occupying himself lately with affairs concerning his properties and it's been taking quite a large portion of his time, though I'm sure he has put those affairs in order by now. You have any cigarettes?"

Prince István adjusted his collar. "No, sir, no children at present, I'm not yet married. That is a shame about your son, sir, though hopefully your visit to us today is the first of many and that we will meet with him in future. Forgive me for asking, sir, but if Your Highness is 92, and your father the Emperor is 110, how old is your eldest son? I imagine your father is blessed with many great-great grandchildren."

They emerged on the veranda leading down to the gardens. István looked around sheepishly for his mother. "Of course sir," he said once he was satisfied the coast was clear, "And he pulled from his jacket a silver case embossed with royal crest. He opened it to reveal a line of white cigarettes, the only colour being a band of gold between the filter and the tobacco, and a small crest of the exclusive tobacconists from which they were obtained. "Please help yourself."

[The Ernestine Empire]

Jones signaled a waiter for the pair. "Another whiskey, please," Jones said as he took a look around the garden, checking out the groups of royalty. Jones turned back to Hrytsenko and said, "My, my, look at all the princes and princesses and whatnot. Lots of royalty. I feel a bit outta place!" Jones then suddenly thought of something, "So how much power do your royal families hold, anyway? You mentioned elections, so I assume your king isn't an absolute ruler. How is your government modeled?"

Hrytsenko laughed. "I am a politician, sir, so allow me to indulge you by giving you a politican's answer: It depends. Our constitution, if you can really call it that, it's not really written down it's just the laws and customs, doesn't really say so it depends on what the King at the time is like. The King's late father took his role as a...chief executive, so to speak, very seriously. He appointed Prime Ministers, he even appointed members of his cabinet, and if you did something that he didn't like, then he'd throw you out on your ear. And if you brought him a law to give the Royal Assent to which he didn't like, well then he wouldn't sign it, and that was that. He was a bit like one of your Presidents, proposing laws to the congress and vetoing those he didn't care for. But others, like the current King, are far less active, and so we just bumble along like any old constitutional monarchy."

He looked about the garden. "And don't feel out of place, Your Excellency, these people," he motioned towards the various groups of royals, "Would come to the opening of an envelope if there was a free bar. And I'm here, my father was a shopkeeper, so you are not on your own by any stretch. Besides," he leaned slightly closer, "As my grandmother used to say, she'd say 'Lenechka,' which was the name she used to call me, 'Lenechka, just remember that they need to shit just like you.' My grandmother was never one for holding her tongue."

[The Ernestine Empire]

The Royals by the Orangery

Yulia was getting the impression that she was something of a third wheel, what with the obvious and sustained flirting. She decided to beat a retreat. “Well,” she said, “It was nice to have met you all, I hope you enjoy the party.” Before anything could be said she peeled off and circulated the garden. She spied upon the Kartlians and, noticing that no one had yet spoken to them, made her way over. “Your Highnesses,” she said. She began to curtsy before it occurred to her that she wasn’t sure whether she should to a Princely Family, but by this point it was too late so she carried on. She made a mental note to ask the Chamberlain later. “Thank you for coming.” She obliged the Prince of Sakerkeulidzo with an outstretched hand. “I am Grand Duchess Yulia,” she said, her nose ever so slightly rising as she said it, “His Majesty’s niece.” Her nose returned to its resting position. “Thank you for coming, you honour us with your presence. Have you been here long?”

With the heavenly emperor

Cheonsa chuckled a bit at the question asked to him. "Only the largest continent on Earth!" He answered, gleefully smiling. "That minus Japan and Pakistan, because of political reasons. So, tell me about yourselves, this nation, and this party. I'm eager to know more about you."

The King of Arms nodded. “So you have a grouse moor then?“

The Master of the Horse also nodded, though for different reasons. “Good thing you don’t have Japan, I would never be able to get used to the footwear. They do make very good cameras though.”

“Oh yes,” said the King of Arms, “Very good cameras. As for us...well...you know...we’re not quite as big as the Eurasian landmass but...you know...well we’re not cramped sir, let me put it that way. We’re not like Knootoss where we’re all pressed together and everyone is forced to live in a shoebox 4 miles in the air.”

The Master of the Horse straightened his moustache again. “What is it that you want to know in particular?” he asked, “Do you need the lavatory?”

“This party,” continued the King of Arms, “Was an idea of His Majesty just to allow people to meet without there being a hostage situation or the sort of casual gunfight one often sees occurring with social gatherings these days. It’s regrettable, I recall one time when I was in Pantocratoria and these Allanean terrorists appeared and..” Just then a member of the household staff appeared and wished to the King of Arms.

“That’s the herald’s job,” he replied to the newcomer. The staff member whispered some more. “Is he?” said the King of Arms, “Well I blame the salmon mousse. Right well I’ll come then.” He turned to the Heavenly Emperor. “Apologies sir but I must leave you for a moment.” He gave a small bow and followed the household staff member back to the palace. There was an awkward silence for a moment. “Sooooo,” he said after a moment, “How do we compare to the Emperor of Excalbia’s birthday party?”

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Hrytsenko laughed. "I am a politician, sir, so allow me to indulge you by giving you a politican's answer: It depends. Our constitution, if you can really call it that, it's not really written down it's just the laws and customs, doesn't really say so it depends on what the King at the time is like. The King's late father took his role as a...chief executive, so to speak, very seriously. He appointed Prime Ministers, he even appointed members of his cabinet, and if you did something that he didn't like, then he'd throw you out on your ear. And if you brought him a law to give the Royal Assent to which he didn't like, well then he wouldn't sign it, and that was that. He was a bit like one of your Presidents, proposing laws to the congress and vetoing those he didn't care for. But others, like the current King, are far less active, and so we just bumble along like any old constitutional monarchy."

Jones raised his eyebrow as Hrytsenko explained the Ernestine government. "Well," Jones said, "That doesn't exactly sound like a recipe for political stability, if you don't mind me saying. If the words of a foreigner mean anything to you," Jones continued as a waiter brought him the second whiskey he had requested, "It seems as though you need to pick a concrete government. A strong king, or a powerful elected body. To me, and perhaps it's just me, a strong king would be the best thing to keep those silly nationalists in line. Sometimes, people just need a strong hand to guide them. But what do I know, eh?" Jones laughed a bit as he took a sip of his drink.

He looked about the garden. "And don't feel out of place, Your Excellency, these people," he motioned towards the various groups of royals, "Would come to the opening of an envelope if there was a free bar. And I'm here, my father was a shopkeeper, so you are not on your own by any stretch. Besides," he leaned slightly closer, "As my grandmother used to say, she'd say 'Lenechka,' which was the name she used to call me, 'Lenechka, just remember that they need to shit just like you.' My grandmother was never one for holding her tongue."

"Ha! I like her already," Jones said, "Sounds pretty wise, if you ask me. I bet you most of these people here think themselves so high and mighty. Personally, kings and queens and all that see themselves as rightful rulers and as grand beings based on their bloodlines, not necessarily their achievements. You know how I got where I am: Blood, sweat, tears. Sounds like the same for you. Not many of them. They were born into it. Of course, I'm sure some of them earned it. Most of them haven't, though, I'm willing to bet. Look at your king," Jones went on, "I'm sure he's done some grand things in his long reign. Unlike many of these folk who claim their titles based on their ancestors achievements." Jones sighed, finished with his rant, and took a calming swig of his drink. "I apologize," he said, shaking his head, "Seems I got a little fired up there for a moment. I'm sure most of 'em are good enough people, just entitled. Hopefully I won't burst out like that in front of any fragile hearted prince or count." He gave a short laugh before continuing, "Or, God forbid, your king! That would be a poor first impression, I should think."

[Brasland]

Benjamin smiled and nodded as Helena spoke. “Interesting,” he said. “It must make for a lot of princes and princesses.”

He shrugged slightly at her mention of Brasland having trouble with change. “Change,” he began, “is always challenging. Some countries and some people seem to embrace change for the sake of change. The Confederation, Knootoss, even Upper Virginia. They change governments, public morals, and just about everything else the way some change their trousers. Of course, you can go too far. Some - especially a few monarchies around the region - are so reluctant to change that if you visit, you’d swear you had traveled back in time to the 19th or even the 16th century.” He gave a lopsided smile. “Of course, I should be the last to talk; we tend to oscillate between rapid change and desperately clinging to ancient tradition.” He shrugged. “I guess that in the end we’re all just trying to make do and figure things out.”

Benjamin brushed a strand of dark blonde hair out of face. “But enough of my waxing philosophical.” He smiled. “Tell, Helena, what does the daughter of the Master of the Court do in Brasland?”

“Well, I studied History,” Helena explained, “and I teach at a school for the children of the palace’s staff. It's my passion, I know everything about Braslander history and I could recite you the names of all my ancestors up to the first Count von Innerwitz, but please don't let me, I tend to become obsessed with such things. I also do charity work with my mother, and sometimes I help her to organize court events. I live with my parents and younger siblings at the Grand Master’s Palace, and I also have an older sister who is already married. It’s not usual for girls of my background to live alone, or even with friends, before they marry.”

Ilizibith gave a sly smile and narrowed her eyes. “Well, if you cannot figure that out, Lieutenant, I certainly won’t tell you.”

The young woman sipped her champagne and looked off to the side. “So, Lieutenant, what do you in the army? Have you seen battle? I’ve watched my father’s army drill in the desert; the soldiers were magnificent. Though I do prefer our Army’s dress uniforms with their capes and plumed helmets to fatigues and body armour.

“I haven’t seen battle yet, but I’d really like to”, Peter replied, and then whispered closely to Ilizibith’s face. “Between you and I, there are rumors that soon there will be war in the Transmontana. There's an usurper, I won't say who, that is really bothering our government.”

Isabelle lowered her fan. “Of course,” she said, a look of realization spreading across her face, “King Leopold I’s father was Ferdinand III of Tuscany, the son of Holy Roman Emperor Leopold II, who I believe was also the father of your Queen Amalia.”

She smiled. “Shame on you, cousin for not coming to visit. And not paying attention to your lessons!” The young woman raised her fan. “You deserve a… suitable punishment.”

If Leopold had heard Peter’s comment, he would have punched him in the face for his indiscretion. Unfortunately, he was too much enraptured by the charming infanta.

“And who would execute the sentence?”, said Leopold, openly flirting with Isabelle.

He had forgotten all the other girls he ever fancied and wondered where this girl had been this whole time. He would really need to take a closer look to the family tree as soon as he returned home.

[Reed islands]

When he got home , he explored the family tree

[Kuronami]

"I see," said the Duke, "Well good. Marriages of convenience can always grow into something more. You said, madam, that yours were two kingdoms that joined together and now you have an Empress. Presumably, then one of these royal houses had to give way to the other, or is Her present Imperial Majesty not related to either? Is she, Her Majesty, from the same side of the country as yourself?"

"Well therein is one of our great compromises out of history. While functionally we are a singular Empire we also have many elements of a Federation. Going back to when we first formed while it is true some power had to be seceded to make a singular head of state, that being the then King, extraterritorial power was allowed to remain between them. Given the days before large cross country rail, air and automobiles and a landmass the size of our own it simply made the most sense. As for Her Majesty Eylstadt, she is from the West and her family has had a long held control on that Provence. Our prior Emperor died without naming an heir and no known children to speak to ascend to the throne as to why well that's another long and complicated story there. Anyway, if and when such events happen that means each ruling family of every domain of our Empire must put forward a candidate to be chosen as heir, similar to a democratic election in republics only the voting come down to the National Assembly Members. In the end, Her Majesty garnered the most votes and was named Empress. And it is a lifetime position until she dies or abdicates. Regardless, to me, it matters little whether she's from East, West, Central or the islands she's shown to be a wonderful ruler so I'm quite proud to be in her service."

[Sterkistan]

"I see," said the equerry, "Excuse me for a moment." He retreated into the palace proper; the only sounds (that human ears could hear) was the conversation and the music from the garden beyond, and the din of traffic behind them. On occasion, when either sound lulled, the equerry could be heard on a telephone.

"...she doesn't look like a Christina Wiseman to me..." the equerry could be heard saying. His head appeared from behind a pillar, he smiled again, and then it disappeared. "I dunno," he said, "He's about three metres?" There was a pause. "I see." The phone was replaced. The equerry returned.

"Sorry about that," he said with a fixed smile, "That's fine, I can show you through." He looked at the Section 4 Agent. "There's an open route if your attendant is concerned about low ceilings."

Christina sighed again as he walked away, checking the holopad on her bionic arm, the screen receding back into her hand, fake skin covering it as the equerry returned.

"Thank you, we are more than ready to go."
She and her guard stepped forward as he opened the gate.
"No, he will be fine." She said as the equerry asked about the Agent.
The Agent nodded slightly confirming he was fine with the decision.

Christina motioned ahead of her, "Please, lead the way."

[Adab]

Prince István adjusted his collar. "No, sir, no children at present, I'm not yet married. That is a shame about your son, sir, though hopefully your visit to us today is the first of many and that we will meet with him in future. Forgive me for asking, sir, but if Your Highness is 92, and your father the Emperor is 110, how old is your eldest son? I imagine your father is blessed with many great-great grandchildren."

They emerged on the veranda leading down to the gardens. István looked around sheepishly for his mother. "Of course sir," he said once he was satisfied the coast was clear, "And he pulled from his jacket a silver case embossed with royal crest. He opened it to reveal a line of white cigarettes, the only colour being a band of gold between the filter and the tobacco, and a small crest of the exclusive tobacconists from which they were obtained. "Please help yourself."

"Thank you very much, Your Highness." The Crown Prince smiled as he treated himself to a cigarette. "Why, my eldest son Naram-Sin is 68. You should try starting a family sometime, Your Highness. I have been blessed with a great and wonderful family, and it is one of the greatest blessings that the Almighty has bestowed upon me in this life. Nine children, tens of grandchildren, great-grandchildren... and I think I have quite a few great-great-grandchildren already. Might have to check on that. They would, of course, be my father the Emperor's great-great-great-grandchildren. If you have watched that show, Your Highness, I think they call it Game of Kings or something, it's really more my grandchildren's thing, there's this old bastard named Frey who has this huge, great family running around his castle. It's obviously inspired by our family. We should sue them for plagiarism or something." He laughed, cigarette in his hand.

[Excalbia]

“Well, I studied History,” Helena explained, “and I teach at a school for the children of the palace’s staff. It's my passion, I know everything about Braslander history and I could recite you the names of all my ancestors up to the first Count von Innerwitz, but please don't let me, I tend to become obsessed with such things. I also do charity work with my mother, and sometimes I help her to organize court events. I live with my parents and younger siblings at the Grand Master’s Palace, and I also have an older sister who is already married. It’s not usual for girls of my background to live alone, or even with friends, before they marry.”

Benjamin smiled as Helena spoke. “Although I studied law,” he began, “I do love history.” He chuckled slightly. “It’s almost an inherited trait when you’re part of the Imperial Family and grow up in a manner house with 300-year old paintings and 400-year old swords and what-not up on the walls.”

He put a hand in his jacket pocket, looking more and more relaxed the longer he spoke with Helena. “I can’t say, though, that I’m much for court events. When I was younger, my cousins and I used to run away and hide in out-of-the-way corners of the Castle anytime my family had to go to the court." He laughed. "Once Tariq found a spot so well-hidden, no one found us until we came out for bed time that night. Fortunately, James brought a bundle of food and a bottle of soda to get us through dinner time!

“So, a teacher,” he began, “my mother is a teacher. She works with special needs children. She used to work in the public schools, but now she’s sort of an outside expert that various schools call in to advise them. It leaves her more time for other obligations.” He took a step closer to Helena. “Tell me about your charity work. Doing good for others has always been important in my family.”

[Providencia y San Andres]

If Leopold had heard Peter’s comment, he would have punched him in the face for his indiscretion. Unfortunately, he was too much enraptured by the charming infanta.

“And who would execute the sentence?”, said Leopold, openly flirting with Isabelle.

He had forgotten all the other girls he ever fancied and wondered where this girl had been this whole time. He would really need to take a closer look to the family tree as soon as he returned home.

Isabelle smiled behind her fan, but before she could answer, the Marquesa Andrea coughed loudly. The Infanta turned towards her and Andrea shot her a sharp look. Isabella snapped her fan closed. “Doňa Andrea, perhaps you should go and find my sister before she starts an incident.”

“Si, Seňorita,” Andrea said sharply, “we would not want any incidents.” The Marquesa curtsied and took her leave.

Isabelle turned back to Leopold. “I apologize for that… little exchange. I’m afraid that Andrea still thinks of herself sometimes as more of a governess than a lady in waiting.” She smiled. “Now, where were we?” She resumed fanning herself. “Perhaps you could avoid punishment and make up for your neglect by paying a visit to La Isla.”

* * *

As the Marquesa began searching for Infanta Letizia and her Lady in Waiting, she passed where Grand Duchess Yulia was chatting with Kartlians. She did not recognize the Kartlian royalty, but she did recognize Yulia. She had seemed to be a nice enough young lady and, frankly, Andrea had reached her fill of Infantas and had no real desire to track down Letizia, who made her sister Isabelle seem as sweet and gentle as a lamb by comparison. So, the Marquesa of Antiguo Puerto Libertad grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and drifted towards Yulia.

[Cyretopolitania]

“I haven’t seen battle yet, but I’d really like to”, Peter replied, and then whispered closely to Ilizibith’s face. “Between you and I, there are rumors that soon there will be war in the Transmontana. There's an usurper, I won't say who, that is really bothering our government.”

“Oh, dear,” Ilizibith said covering her mouth. “I would never wish for you to see battle; I hope that something can be done about this foul usurper without war.” She smiled slightly. “As I said, it is much better to see young soldiers, especially young lieutenants, in their dashing uniforms with braids and sashes than in clunky body armour and dull fatigues.”

[Brasland]

Benjamin smiled as Helena spoke. “Although I studied law,” he began, “I do love history.” He chuckled slightly. “It’s almost an inherited trait when you’re part of the Imperial Family and grow up in a manner house with 300-year old paintings and 400-year old swords and what-not up on the walls.”

He put a hand in his jacket pocket, looking more and more relaxed the longer he spoke with Helena. “I can’t say, though, that I’m much for court events. When I was younger, my cousins and I used to run away and hide in out-of-the-way corners of the Castle anytime my family had to go to the court." He laughed. "Once Tariq found a spot so well-hidden, no one found us until we came out for bed time that night. Fortunately, James brought a bundle of food and a bottle of soda to get us through dinner time!

“So, a teacher,” he began, “my mother is a teacher. She works with special needs children. She used to work in the public schools, but now she’s sort of an outside expert that various schools call in to advise them. It leaves her more time for other obligations.” He took a step closer to Helena. “Tell me about your charity work. Doing good for others has always been important in my family.”

Helena laughed as Benjamin told the story of him and his cousins hiding in the castle.

“I used to do the same with my siblings at Schloss Eberhagen, my grandparents’ home. We would escape the adults by going to the old tower. Thinking about it now, it was very reckless of us. The old wooden stairs were in a terrible state. Only last week my Amama’s maid broke her leg when a rotten plank gave in.”

Then he asked her about her charity work.

“Well, it’s not exactly charity, really,” she said, “I’m involved with a few organisations that help immigrant families settle down in Brasland. Immigration is strictly controlled in the kingdom and sometimes there’s a lot of xenophobia, especially in rural areas, and it’s mostly due to ignorance and prejudice, so I try to help these groups raise awareness about the struggles that immigrants face. Luckily we don’t have the problems of other countries and in general foreigners tend to integrate, but it comes as a cost, since Braslanders tend to be very critical of newcomers and expect them to fully adapt to our traditions.”

Isabelle smiled behind her fan, but before she could answer, the Marquesa Andrea coughed loudly. The Infanta turned towards her and Andrea shot her a sharp look. Isabella snapped her fan closed. “Doňa Andrea, perhaps you should go and find my sister before she starts an incident.”

“Si, Seňorita,” Andrea said sharply, “we would not want any incidents.” The Marquesa curtsied and took her leave.

Isabelle turned back to Leopold. “I apologize for that… little exchange. I’m afraid that Andrea still thinks of herself sometimes as more of a governess than a lady in waiting.” She smiled. “Now, where were we?” She resumed fanning herself. “Perhaps you could avoid punishment and make up for your neglect by paying a visit to La Isla.”

“I’d like that,” said Leopold, “but you remain a mystery to me. Tell me about yourself and your family. And how is your country, culturally speaking? Is it religious, liberal, a mix of both? I’m curious, Señorita.”

“Oh, dear,” Ilizibith said covering her mouth. “I would never wish for you to see battle; I hope that something can be done about this foul usurper without war.” She smiled slightly. “As I said, it is much better to see young soldiers, especially young lieutenants, in their dashing uniforms with braids and sashes than in clunky body armour and dull fatigues.”

“Indeed”, said Peter, suddenly serious, “war is not something that should be taken lightly, but I can’t deny I feel drawn towards the adrenalin it involves. To face your enemies and, in doing so, facing your own fears and demons.” He smiled to her, revealing a complexity that was usually carefully hidden to other people. “It may be a flaw of character, but I can’t help it.”

[The Ernestine Empire]

Jones raised his eyebrow as Hrytsenko explained the Ernestine government. "Well," Jones said, "That doesn't exactly sound like a recipe for political stability, if you don't mind me saying. If the words of a foreigner mean anything to you," Jones continued as a waiter brought him the second whiskey he had requested, "It seems as though you need to pick a concrete government. A strong king, or a powerful elected body. To me, and perhaps it's just me, a strong king would be the best thing to keep those silly nationalists in line. Sometimes, people just need a strong hand to guide them. But what do I know, eh?" Jones laughed a bit as he took a sip of his drink.

Hrytsenko smiled but this time, unlike the other times, his grin seemed more fixed, and his eyes displayed no warmth. He stepped forward and guided the General a few steps away from the rest of the guests; as he did so he was sure to make eye contact with Officer Kendrick, in order that the other man did not think that Hrytsenko was about to pull a knife or anything. Once they were further from the crowd Hrytsenko spoke again, but this time his voice was quieter.

"I can see," he said, "Why you have risen to the commanding heights of your country, your excellency, because that is precisely the problem, precisely that. All our institutions are designed around a strong king, without that we are, well we're somewhat lost. His Majesty," he chose his words carefully, "Has many positive attributes.

But...well...I suppose the problem with the hereditary principle is that you never really know who you're going to get. He's tried, of course, but the King was never supposed to inherit, the Crown Prince was his older brother Demetrius and he was killed in the same bomb that killed his father the King."

Hrytsenko looked back sadly at the bulk of the Palace. "It could not have been easy to see them dredge your father and brother from a lake, for you see they were on the, or rather a royal yacht. And we've never caught the bastards to this day. So if His Majesty was not immediately keen to take up the burden of state then that was understandable. But there's a lot to learn, and much making up to do, and he was never exposed to those practical matters that his brother was, perhaps because they saw no need with him."

He took a final drag on the cigar. "You're right though," he said, "There's a whole bunch of people here today only for the fact that some relative won a naval victory in 1732 or something." He laughed. "I'm afraid I don't really subscribe to the mystery and the grandeur of monarchy, but it serves as object of unity. All people need something to bind them; whether it's an ideal or a flag, we just happen to have objects of unity that occasionally fall out of taxis drunk."

[The Hoosier Alliance]

He took a final drag on the cigar. "You're right though," he said, "There's a whole bunch of people here today only for the fact that some relative won a naval victory in 1732 or something." He laughed. "I'm afraid I don't really subscribe to the mystery and the grandeur of monarchy, but it serves as object of unity. All people need something to bind them; whether it's an ideal or a flag, we just happen to have objects of unity that occasionally fall out of taxis drunk."

"That is...unfortunate," Jones said, using a quiet tone, just as Hrytsenko was, "I sure do hope things improve in your country. What about the heir to the throne, how's he? More competent than his father, just the same, less so?" Jones took another swig of his drink, choosing his next words carefully, "I don't suppose there are any...legal avenues that can be taken to pressure the king into..." Jones dropped his voice even lower and leaned toward Hrytsenko, to ensure no one overheard, "...an early retirement?" Jones straighten up and went on, "I mean, for the good of the country, of course. I'm sure he's a patriot, one who will do what's best for his country. If he wants an empire that his son can even inherit, he may have to think about..." Jones once more lowered voice and leaned in, "Abdication. I mean, I'm not the best one when it comes to dealing with monarchies, but there has to be some way to...move along while being ruled by a...not totally up-to-the-task ruler. Legally, of course," Jones added, once more, and took another drink of his whiskey, hoping he had not just made an ass of himself in front of Hrytsenko.

[Snefaldia]

“Still, it is a tragedy,” Felipe said nodding his head gravely. “If not for the loss of your throne,” he gestured to Hantili, “then for the violence and disturbance to your country.”

The heir to the throne chewed his lip for a moment, as if thinking hard. “Hopefully, Your Excellency,” he said at last to the Ambassador, “things are looking up for the States-Federation. Although we share no borders, you are a neighbor and your peace and stability are our peace and stability.”

He rubbed a finger across his lips. “As a neighbor, I must say that I’m surprised there isn’t more trade and investment with Snefaldia. One would think that we are natural partners for each other.”

Hantili inclined his head, cocking it to the side, as if to say, "yes, of course, I feel bad, but what can I do."

Tarku also smiled, wagging her finger in mock anger. "Now, Señor. You and I both know there is quite a good amount of trade between our countries. Snefaldian corporations do a lot of business with Providencia y San Andresian banks. In fact I believe that in terms of volume, your country is number three as a destination for the exchange of currency and investment, after Knootoss, and the Caldan Union. Only last year you usurped the three spot from Mont de la Lune, although I warn you there are some excellent opportunities in Kartlis for foreign investment and banking, if you want to "up your game," as they say."

She continued, deftly snagging another champagne glass with her slender, jewelry-bedecked hand. "I do believe you might be interested in hearing more about our Continental Common Destiny Initiative, though. We are discussing putting billions of ducats into countries like Zamimbia, Kartlis, Kasakia, Ajuba, and South Epheron to improve infrastructure, expand ports, and build rail networks, as well as promote entrepreneurship. Maybe we could make some time to talk about what role Providencia y San Andres could play in that initiative."

[The Ernestine Empire]

If you have watched that show, Your Highness, I think they call it Game of Kings or something, it's really more my grandchildren's thing, there's this old bastard named Frey who has this huge, great family running around his castle. It's obviously inspired by our family. We should sue them for plagiarism or something." He laughed, cigarette in his hand.

Prince István smiled politely. "No," he said, "I don't think I have seen it. I'm more into documentaries myself," he sniffed, "I've never been one for fiction. Bunch of made-up stories that could never happen, with all those characters having stilted conversations. I don't know who's worse, the people who write that stuff or the people who read it."

As he and the Crown Prince passed down from the steps that lead from the terrace to the gardens they passed the King of Arms, who nodded politely but kept on walking. As he reached the terrace a nearby attendant offered a microphone. The King of Arms looked at it with disdain. "No thank you," he said, "I shall do without." He coughed, and as he did so the band of the brigade of grenadiers swiftly brought the music they were playing to conclusion.

The King of Arms straightened his tabard and stepped to the edge of the terrace. "My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen," he bellowed, "Distinguished guests, Your Imperial and Royal Majesties, Your Imperial and Royal Highnesses, Your Serene and Apostolic Highnesses, please be upstanding for the Royal Party."

There did not proceed a fanfare, not yet at least, but instead the sound of martial music could be heard from the band; loud enough to drown out any residual conversations but not so oppressive as to make it look like the beginning of a fascist rally.

A set of doors opened to reveal two people who began to walk across the terrace and stopped at the top of the stairs.

“Their Royal Highnesses Grand Duke Cyril and Grand Duchess Anna-Marie,” said the King-of-Arms. Yulia’s parents made their way down the stairs. The Grand Duke was tall and lean, with a clipped moustache and a bald head. He wore the uniform of a rear admiral since, as the youngest son, he was left free to pursue a career in the military rather than the brief immersion bestowed upon his older brothers. They made their way to a small cordoned area.

“Their Royal Highnesses the Grand Duke Stanislaus and the Grand Duke Niklaus,” continued the King-Of-Arms. As was apparent at this juncture, the Ernestine Empire did not, like the Excalbian pattern, allow a princely or noble status to elapse after three generations. Any man (for men it only applied to) who could trace an unbroken paternal lineage back to the Royal House was, by definition, a Prince of the Blood and was addressed as such. This left the issue of identifying senior royals from more junior ones, and therefore it was decided that the children and grandchildren of a king were to be addressed as Grand Duke and Duchesses.

The King’s nephews, made their way down the stairs. Both wore the uniform of a officer of the guards, and both looked similar to their father, the Grand Duke Albert; by which they both had a certain cruel look about the face, and occasional, and unattractive, flashes of anger; none of which was on display as they walked down the steps and stood next to their uncle.

“His Royal Highness the Grand Duke Albert.” The boys’ father appeared, unaccompanied by his wife who was unwell (ooc i.e. I’ve not thought her up yet), now fully clothed and with sash in place. As before he was dressed as a Field Marshal, with broad shoulders and an athletic physique. He stood next to his sons, none of whom smiled.

“Their Royal Highnesses the Grand Duchesses Tanja and Bernice,” The paternity of the nineteen year old Tanja and the 16 year old Bernice could not be doubted, for both had their father’s pale eyes though they looked more attractive in their faces than in his. Both had brown hair, darker than Yulia’s that was arranged in precise curls about the shoulders. Both wore tiaras, though the eldest was, as precedence dictated, larger and more impressive than the younger. They also wore dresses of a similar design to Yulia’s albeit more expensive, of course, with Tanja’s being a pale blue and Bernice a magenta. They made their way down the stairs and across to the cordoned area. They smiled warmly at their uncle Cyrille and his wife, their reactions to their other uncle and their cousins being altogether cooler in comparison.

“Ahem” the King-of-Arms cleared his throat, at which point the band stopped. “Their Majesties, the King and Queen, and His Royal Highness the Crown Prince.” Here was the fanfare, produced with such volume that a car alarm sounded in the background afterwards, and there appeared the three. The King, who last we met was being dressed as Grand Admiral, had clearly had a change of heart for now he wore the uniform of a Marshal of the Air Force. Next to him, and noticeably taller, was the Queen. If there was a certain similarity between the King and Queen then this was understandable; they were first cousins. Her hair was pinned up, as befitted a woman of her status, and a great diamond necklace sat upon her décolletage. The Crown Prince, but ten years old, held onto her hand, and stared in mild terror upon the great sweep of people before him. Unlike the others, the trio remained at the top of the stairs whilst the band played the national anthem, Gott erhalte Ernst den König, which was played but not sung, on account of the empire having so many languages (too many really) the debate as to which versions were sung and which were not was too weighty a subject for an occasion such as this. The young Prince, overawed by the occasion, squeezed his mother’s hand, who in turn looked upon him maternal tenderness. She said something to him, which was lost over the distance to the others and the sound of the band, and a faint smile played upon his face. The anthem having now finished the King-of-Arms turned to the three royals and bowed deeply. The King in turn gave a curt but polite nod, the sort that any gentlemen would make when his gundog returns with the pheasant, whereupon they began to descend the stairs. They stopped about halfway and, stepping forward one step, the king spoke a few words.

"We should like to thank you all for coming this afternoon," he said, "We hope that you enjoy the rest of the occasion." He was not renown for public speaking. With that they proceeded down the step and having reached the lawn, the Royal Party dispersed, the better to meet with their guests.

As they dispersed Grand Duke Albert came upon Sir Bogomil, the King’s Private Secretary, who was ostensibly there to inspect the proceedings but who in reality wish to catch sight of the 10ft attendant of Ms Wiseman. The Grand Duke stood next to him. “Are the Snefaldians here?” he asked, though in reality this was more of a growl of annoyance that Sir Bogomil was unable, somehow, to read his thoughts and provide this information unbidden.

Sir Bogomil turned and bowed. “They are, your Highness, they are over there” and with that he motioned towards Wemiya Tarku who, with respect, was not hard to miss.

“Good,” growled Albert, “This is an excellent opportunity to improve our relations with them.”

The Grand Duke Cyrille circulated past. “And get their money,” he interjected. His older brother chose not to respond.

[The Ernestine Empire]

Christina sighed again as he walked away, checking the holopad on her bionic arm, the screen receding back into her hand, fake skin covering it as the equerry returned.

"Thank you, we are more than ready to go."
She and her guard stepped forward as he opened the gate.
"No, he will be fine." She said as the equerry asked about the Agent.
The Agent nodded slightly confirming he was fine with the decision.

Christina motioned ahead of her, "Please, lead the way."

The equerry lead Christina and the Agent through the colonnade and into the gardens, just in time for the arrival of the royal party.

If there is anything
He coughed
"Sorry about that, if there is anything else I can do to be of assistance then please let me know. Otherwise I will hand over to my colleague..." he turned to find the waiter; his mouth open in shock at the sight before him. The equerry's forced smile returned, "Excuse me," he said and gently grabbed the waiter by the arm. "Remember your training," he hissed. The waiter gulped.
"As I was saying," said the equerry, "My colleague will be more than happy to assist, won't you?" The waiter meekly nodded.

[The Ernestine Empire]

"Well therein is one of our great compromises out of history. While functionally we are a singular Empire we also have many elements of a Federation. Going back to when we first formed while it is true some power had to be seceded to make a singular head of state, that being the then King, extraterritorial power was allowed to remain between them. Given the days before large cross country rail, air and automobiles and a landmass the size of our own it simply made the most sense. As for Her Majesty Eylstadt, she is from the West and her family has had a long held control on that Provence. Our prior Emperor died without naming an heir and no known children to speak to ascend to the throne as to why well that's another long and complicated story there. Anyway, if and when such events happen that means each ruling family of every domain of our Empire must put forward a candidate to be chosen as heir, similar to a democratic election in republics only the voting come down to the National Assembly Members. In the end, Her Majesty garnered the most votes and was named Empress. And it is a lifetime position until she dies or abdicates. Regardless, to me, it matters little whether she's from East, West, Central or the islands she's shown to be a wonderful ruler so I'm quite proud to be in her service."

The Duke's brow furrowed. "Does that mean..." He was interrupted by the King-of-Arms on the distant terrace and the ensuing arrival of the royal guests and it was only after this had finished that the Duke picked up from where he left off. "Does that mean that yours is an elective monarchy now, since you seemed to suggest that the Imperial Title would not pass to any offspring of the present Empress?"

The Duke collected a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. "I ought to have asked what role your Empress has, since you have evidently been appointed by her. Is there a Head of Government or does she occupy this role as well?"