Felicia Sciotóg of the Tribe of Monaghan.
Fortham Army Air Field. Evening of Day 1.
It was a sight, which I was used to, but it still made me nervous: Fortham Army Air Field, the largest air base and garrison of the Free Lands, ready to receive a guest of state. Today, it was Silas Flemming, the President of Lillorainen, a friend of the Free Lands and, if I were to be bold, of mine as well.
He had been here last year, during the signing ceremony of the SEA-Accords, but a dedicated state visit had been long in the works - too long. The Free Lands and Lillorainen were friends and fellow SEA-Members, but there could be more: More trade, more exchange of culture and knowledge, more coordination.
To this end, we had planned this state visit. The President and his fellow delegates would talk about business, about culture, about exchange, have a merry and good time in our lands and off they went - hopefully with good news for home. And we would have good news as well.
Today, however, was the first day. As a bit of an introduction, the President and his delegation would receive a small reception here and then move to Cnockan House, where Sullivan Tarra of the Tribe of Antrim, the Elder of His Tribe, expected them for dinner with a small number of guests. They would stay there overnight, too.
They would get from there to here via horse, as it should be, either riding themselves (it would not surprise me, if some of them knew how to) or by horse-drawn carriage. The evening was warm, too, a mild 20 degrees after a day, which had been 25 degrees Celsius at midday. Ideal weather for wearing Geansai, too, which I did, proudly wearing Monaghan's Colours.
Cara, my trusted Sickle Cat and like me from the Northern Islands, sat on his haunches by my side, watching the spectacle in front of him. It was not his favourite climate, his thick and luxurious fur not exactly working in his favour, but he managed. He was used to it, after all.
With us at the red carpet, where the plane would end up at, stood a squad of thirteen soldiers of the III. Squadron, 5th Dragan-Regiment, at the ready, wearing full SDF-Army Blue Dress and led by their Squad Sergeant. The men held their rifles at the ready, a military honour guard to welcome the delegation on a military base.
Along the sides of the air field, the usual hustle and bustle of a late evening went on, soldiers doing their jobs, which they had been assigned. A bit away, behind the large administrative building with the impressive tower, I knew, that my partner as a foreign representative of the Free Lands waited, together with the escort, the horses and everything.
And I knew, that in the air, the plane carrying the President of Lillorainen and his delegation was escorted by two Stuamas, markings of the 14th Air Combat Squadron on the sides. A purely ceremonial gesture, even if I knew, that the 14th ACS' commander and leading pilot on this mission, Lieutenant Colonel Finnegan Dóire of the Tribe of Sligo, would flirt with any woman, which might sit in the cockpit...
Still, Colonel Dóire's lack of restraint aside, at the end of the runway, a small Colúr-Tankette waited to move the plane to the red carpet along the taxiways should the pilot not want to taxi himself (or herself, who knew?).
I wiped a strand of hair behind my ear, looked to the Sergeant and nodded.
"Can you ask the tower, when they'll arrive, please?", I requested of him.
He nodded and used the button in his ear to do exactly that. A moment later, he reported: "A few minutes. We should be able to see them in a moment."
"Thank you.", I said and took a deep breath.
No need to be nervous, Filly...