The Tviathean Royal School (IC, OPEN)

[Tviathe]

November 9th
Island's Port

The sun was blocked out by thick, grey clouds that spanned over the sky for as long as the eye could see. On the island the weather was much like the roll of a die, one could never tell what the day would bring. Today, it was cold northern winds and a never-ending downpour of even colder rain.

The port was empty. The majority of the Tviathean students had wisely arrived within the first week, when the weather was best. Now they were inside relaxing. Unfortunately for the welcoming committee, they could not join them. Instead, they waited in the rain for the arrival of the foreign students.

This committee consisted of Hitch, Marith, and Andries, accompanied by Margaret Roe and Cynthia Vandor. All of whom were cold, wet, and itching to get inside.

Andries held up his binoculars again, not expecting much. Then, he saw it. A blur on the horizon, slowly getting closer and closer. A student had finally arrived.

OOC thread
OOC Note: That'll be the ship of whoever replies first. You'll be arriving on a ship of your nation, then dock at the port.

[Zul-ar]

Terrijorr was woefully unprepared for this trip. His thin, minimalistic clothing was made for the tropical weather of the Terri-ar Isles, not the cold rain he'd faced on his travels. His prayers for sunlight went continuously unanswered.

This, he thought to himself, looking out onto stormy waters, is the worst mistake I've ever made.

Then, something caught his eye. He moved towards the ship's bow, and leaned as far forward as he possibly could. There, in the distance, he could roughly make out an island. Terrijorr wasn't the only one to have noticed. Soon enough, the ship was filled with the commotion of the crew preparing to land.

Terrijorr opened the suitcase he'd been holding. All but one of the things were accounted for. He closed the suitcase and sprinted back to his cabin. There on his desk was a leather bound book. He sighed, relieved. He'd almost left it behind.

"Zulovnor?" A man's voice sounded from behind him. Terrijorr turned. Behind him stood the captain of the ship, and likely the last Zul-ar he'd see for a while.

"We've arrived. It's time to go."

Terrijorr nodded. The walk off the ship was not a long one, and he soon found himself on Tviathean land. Not far from his ship he could see a small group of people. Doing his best to shield himself from the rain with the hood of his oilskin, he made his way over to them.

[Brettenwald]

Unlike Terrijorr, Adrian Kêrota was more than used to weather like this and was therefore having the time of his life. Hanging onto a railing on the side of the Lady Marlena and clad in a sturdy oilskin coat over a warm Irish-style fisherman's sweater, he squinted out through the spray and eventually ducked back inside as the island drew closer. "You're just as bad as your father, you'll catch your death of a cold out there," his mother said, half admonishingly and half lovingly.

"What I want to know is, where's the rest of the country?" His father came down from the bridge just then, a tall, bearded man who looked equally at home in the boardroom as he did at sea. Considering that Kêrota's had gotten its start on the way to the top financing (and making a hellacious ROI from) trade and exploration voyages to Africa, Asia & the New World, it wasn't much of a surprise. "Somewhere out to our southeast, I think, I haven't looked at Henrik's maps too closely," Adrian answered, gathering up a few odds and ends from around the living room. You had to be careful how you pronounced Tviathe with a Brettain accent, otherwise it threatened to come out sounding like something unprintable. Down to his cabin to put everything together into his suitcase or his backpack as applicable, quick prayers to Likri for success in scholarly pursuits and Terna in thanks for a choppy though uneventful ocean voyage here, and then dodging crew members to emerge from belowdecks just as the gangplank clanked down and the twin diesel straight-sixes at the rear sighed to a stop.

"So, I guess this is goodbye then," he said, giving first his mom and then his dad big hugs. "Love you!" The Duke clapped him on the shoulder. "Give 'em hell, lad." His mom kissed him on the cheek. "Don't forget to write emails or Skype us if your connection's good enough." And with that he lugged his stuff down the gangplank and onto the dock, joining a small group of people at the same time as some poor sod who was shivering and looked like he strongly regretted the decisions that led him here. He, however, was looking forward to this chapter of his life quite a bit. Adrian was always up for a good adventure.

[Laka Strolistandiler]

Having weather forecast fed into her head directly from her phone, Alexandria already knew ahead of time what the weather was going to be like, and therefore dressed appropriately. A long yellow raincoat and insulated rubber boots reliably protected her from the weather, which she actively used, melancholy watching the rainy sky.

The raditender (ship carrying radioactive materials and nuclear waste)"Serka-72", the only ship whose route passed close enough to the coast to be able to land her near the island, of course could not be called an analogue of luxury yachts of other students, but the ship fulfilled its tasks... Having served for more than 60 years years, it fought gloriously, managing to drown a submarine in the Third Island War and shoot down two helicopters with its air defense systems, which was proudly declared by huge kill markings on board the tender. The crew of the ship, which from time to time really had to "give a lift" to passengers, reacted to the fact that their passenger, the Queen's daughter, did not have much reverence, although they were quite polite to Alexandria. During this trip, she learned quite a lot about the technical design of ships of this type, in particular about the principles of storing weapons-grade uranium and plutonium. However, studying at school promised her a worthy position, so her mood was more than fighting.
Although the ship was kept in a more dignified condition, it looked terrible from the outside. Apparently, during the war it was painted gray, and when the ship was demobilized it was extremely carelessly painted white, without removing the previous layer of paint. As a result, it was all covered with rusty smudges, and the hefty three skulls on board, to the right of the tactical number that had been left since the war, looked more horrifying than honorable.
- Alexandria Lavinia mac Freytag! Are you here ?! - Suddenly the deafeningly low voice of the second-in-comand, who is in charge of passengers, was heard, - get ready for the descent to the shore. In a few tens of minutes we will approach your port, get your luggage ready and proceed to the exit shaft on the port side.

After that, the ship emitted a low, creaky and somewhat terrifying whistle ((the 0:25 whistle)) signaling to those around her whereabouts. On the mast, in addition to the flag of the Laka merchant fleet, marine signals were flown, indicating that no hazardous waste was on board. The ship was “empty”- it dumped it’s nuclear waste cargo halfway through the voyage in a radioactive waste disposal site.

[Tviathe]

Marith was nearing the end of her rope. She was cold, and hungry, and tired, and with about a million other complaints. "There, they're here. Can we go inside already?" She asked, her exasperation showing through her voice. "Inside?" Andries stopped fiddling with his glasses to look at her. "Why, they've just arrived! Come on, Marith. Show some enthusiasm!"

"My enthusiasm died when it started raining."

Andries sighed, "Well, you could at least try. I mean, look at Hitch! He's-" He scanned the pier. The prince had disappeared, along with his caretaker. "Where's Hitch?"

"If you'll pardon my interruption, Mister Fulbright," the young woman holding up Marith's umbrella spoke, "Prince Richard had a headache. Miss Roe feared for his health, so they went inside."

Marith rolled her eyes, "Headache, shmedache. Bet he just wanted to get out of the rain."

"It's too late to go get him now anyway. We'll just have to do this ourselves." Andries beckoned the bearers to follow him as he and Marith met the walking students halfway. One, he could see, looked miserable. He probably isn't used to the weather. He thought to himself, though the other seemed well-accustomed.

Andries, half-shouting over the sound of the storm, lead with the introduction "Welcome to The Tviathean Royal School, it is a pleasure to have you here. We're sorry about the weather, we'll get you out of the rain in just a second. My name is Andries Fulbright, and my friend here is-"

"Marith. Marith Tviathe, who's has been standing out here forever because of you."

"Marith, for the love of God, please don't."

"Marith do this, Marith do that! I am sick and tired of your dumb committee, and your dumb school, and this dumb rain! I am going inside, and I hope the rest of you drown." With her tantrum done, Marith marched off to the school, leaving behind one very annoyed Andries Fulbright and a crowd of confused servants.

"...As I was saying, that was the Eldest Princess, Marith Tviathe."

[Vorausen]

“ Wo sind wir, Captain?” asked Heinrich
The Captain focused on steering replied in a bothered and annoyed voice
“Does it matter Heinrich? Does it amtter that much. Go away and do something else, and don’t bother me.”
Heinrich Crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, opening the door to the other room in the ship. Inside was a cotton bed with his Fur jacket. He put it on, and at next to the candle dimly lighting his room.
“Day 2 of my journey to this stupid school that my father felt I should travel to. Apparently he’s too busy trying to conquer all of Europe and all of the world to actually get me a teacher on the mainland. Maybe father is still mad at me for arguing with him. No it can’t be, I doubt it. We should be at the school soon I presume, I do wonder if this school will teach about the blessed race and the glorified ideals of Vorausen. Only time will tell”
Heinrich wrote this in his journal and tucked it neatly under his pillow. He looked out to the sea, the rainy weather, dark black skies.
“ Wie Kopenhagen, endlose Turbulenzen und schlechtes Wetter.” Heinrich said in German, which meant Like Copenhagen, endless turbulence and bad weather.

[Abetton]

Sea travel, no problem!. Natasha came from a Navy family so the seas weren't much of an issue for her or anyone else really. The stormiest, the calmest, she could handle it no problem. Given this school was off on an island somewhere this was just easier to sail directly there and Abetton still depended heavily on sea travel And well this voyage was rougher as they moved from south to north into the churning seas near the island where this school was hosted. Nat calmly sipped on her tea while the ship rocked, rolled, listed and bobbed as her poor maiden hung for dear life on anything.

"A.J. you going to be okay there?"

"Young Miss, I must remind you I grew up on a farm and I'm not used to sea travel like you might be."

"Well at least you got over the sea sickness quickly. Just relax, Captain Strand is absolutely the best."

"Your confidence in our Captain is admirable, Young Miss, but just where does that confidence come from?"

"He has to be, or daddy will certainly see to it that he's captaining a desk from now until he's 87." She giggled rather deviously.

"I...I see...."

"oh you know, I just realized it's getting onto autumn here, nearly winter and with this storm currently, it might be quite cold when we land. Did you pack away all my winter clothing?"

"Oh my goodness, Miss, I am so sorry, I did. I hadn't even thought that."

"Oh no matter. I'll talk to one of the sailors, I'm sure they have some rain gear they can spare for us at least. One boy here has already taking a real liking to me." She lifted the tea cup from the saucer as the ship took another sharp list letting the little dish slide away from under her. Well they made it, waves and all, and indeed Natasha was able to charm some gear off of the sailors aboard the ship. Nothing too fancy but a good coat, boots and a hat. Frankly the two of them looked more like sailors than a student with her personal maiden.

[Brettenwald]

Adrian grimaced. She wasn't happy, it seemed, but this kind of weather would do that to you.

"...As I was saying, that was the Eldest Princess, Marith Tviathe."

Wait a sec. "Hang on, d'you say she was a princess?" He laughed, grinning widely. "We don't need to bend the knee or call her Your Highness, do we? Anyway, it's a pleasure to meet you, Andries. I'm Adrian Kêrota, from Brettenwald. No offense, but-" Adrian nodded in Terrijorr's direction "-I think we should get inside so our friend here can defrost." Something made him turn around then, looking out into the gray-green waves to see a couple more ships arriving.

"Though I think we've got company."

[Zul-ar]

"Marith do this, Marith do that! I am sick and tired of your dumb committee, and your dumb school, and this dumb rain! I am going inside, and I hope the rest of you drown."

"...As I was saying, that was the Eldest Princess, Marith Tviathe."

Terrijorr was... confused to say the least. Despite studying English from books, without anyone around him who actually spoke it, his understanding was still rudimentary. Even worse were the cultural differences between Zul-ar and Tviathe.

The Terri-ar Isles were somewhat liberal compared to Zul-ar, but to the rest of the world, the gender norms were still very strict. For example, while women did not have to wear veils on the Isles, it was still unthinkable for a woman to yell at a man. And yet exactly that had happened in front of him mere moments prior.

Stop daydreaming and think, he told himself. He had to find some phrase in that mess of English he understood. He rewound the conversation several times in his head with little success. He heard the boy next to him talk and then... gesture at him? They were talking to him- or maybe about him, and he still couldn't understand a thing.

He gathered his thoughts, then spoke, his accent heavy and obscuring his words. "My English is not good.. I do not understand." He then pointed to the castle, "Can we go there? Too cold outside."

[Tviathe]

Wait a sec. "Hang on, d'you say she was a princess?" He laughed, grinning widely. "We don't need to bend the knee or call her Your Highness, do we? Anyway, it's a pleasure to meet you, Andries. I'm Adrian Kêrota, from Brettenwald. No offense, but-" Adrian nodded in Terrijorr's direction "-I think we should get inside so our friend here can defrost." Something made him turn around then, looking out into the gray-green waves to see a couple more ships arriving.

"Though I think we've got company."

"My English is not good.. I do not understand." He then pointed to the castle, "Can we go there? Too cold outside."

"Welcome, Adrian. You as well. No you definitely don't need to call Marith anything but her first name. Almost all the students have a title, a simple conversation would take all day if we used them. And you..." Andries turned to Terrijorr.

"I'm sorry, your accent's a little heavy. Can't make out what you're saying but I'd guess you mean you want to go inside, right? There's no point in having you all stay out here anyway. Cynthia?"

"Yes, Mister Fulbright?" A tall, black-haired woman at the side spoke in response.

"Wait here for the others while I take the new arrivals up. Oh, and I'll need your umbrella too."

Cynthia paused, and for a moment, reluctance showed in her expression. In the end, she handed over the umbrella to Andries, pulling up the hood of her poncho instead.

Andries handed the umbrella to Terrijorr. "There you go, that'll help a little. You can give your things to those guys over there," he motioned to the bearers who were standing in a line. "They'll carry them up. It's a bit of a long walk."

[Zul-ar]

Having listened more closely this time, Terrijorr was able to make out the gist of Andries' words. They were going inside, which was about the best news he'd heard so far. Finally out of this torrent, he thought, relieved.

He was a caught off-guard when the umbrella was pushed into his hands. He looked to the woman who had originally held it, feeling conflicted. She appeared unwilling... should I return it? he wondered. Then again, it could be disrespectful to reject it.

He continued to hold the umbrella, stuck between using it and returning it. He settled on the former. Terrijorr held the umbrella over his head, and gave Cynthia a small bow of thanks.

[Tviathe]

Cynthia smiled in response to Terrijorr, and Andries led the students up the walkway and to the castle. The hill on which the castle sat was particularly steep, and the stone path slick with rain. Gradually the school's castle became more visible in the distance, the pale stone a stark contrast against the cloudy sky.

The pathway became wider as they went up further, and came to an end at a large wooden double door. In front of it stood two security guards. On seeing Andries, one of the guards turned and knocked on the door. It opened inwards with a creak. Light flooded out from inside, and the doors opened into the castle's spacious hall. Hanging down from the high ceiling were glass chandeliers. The hall had retained it's medieval beauty throughout the years, and even now looked like something out of a fairytale.

In the center was a middle-aged man in a wheelchair: Principal Fulbright. Marith, who was standing behind him, looked up as she saw the group enter. She ran out past the principal and gave Andries a hug.

"Andy, I am so excited to see you!"
"Last I remember, you said you'd rather me dead," he replied, trying to pry her fingers off of him.
"Oh, that?" She laughed, finally letting him go. "That was ages ago!"
"That was less that an hour ago."

"Andy, don't be such a grouch." She pushed him aside to see the two students behind him. "Besides, you should introduce me to the exchange students. I've been waiting forever to see them."

[The Frozen Forest]

The Albatross outside of Truvaria

The ship swayed with the ocean and rain poured down from overhead, drenching those on the deck. Most of the sailors were rushing about to prepare for docking while speaking the foreign tongues of The Treezian Archipelago, one of The Frozen Forests more unstable colonies. The captain though was a Frozen Forestrian ethnically and had yet to have an unsuccessful voyage in his many years of traveling the sea. He was an unusual one though, preferring the use of sails as opposed to motors, a fact that made the trip all the longer for his passengers, the young Maria Bjork and her servant Sven. The Captain had been paid exorbitantly to ensure their safety by the Frozen Forestrian government, and indeed the Captain had succeeded in bringing them to this little Tviathean dock.

Below deck Maria was gathering her belongings. She wore one of the local fashions from the Frozen Forestrian capital
of Truvaria and shivered as a breeze passed by. This school was her opportunity for making contacts outside of The Frozen Forest and advance herself so she tried to keep that in mind as she began to haul her things up the stairs and towards the deck, followed closely by Sven who carried a little umbrella above the young ladies head.

The ship slowed and stopped as it arrived and deck hands set to work tying the ship to the dock and anchoring it. A thick wooden plank was dropped onto the deck and the Maria and Sven made for it under the clattering of rain. Half stumbling and half slipping the pair managed their way onto the dock and away from the ship, which began to reverse it's work as suddenly as they were offloaded. Maria looked towards Sven and then back at the rest of the dock, waiting for someone to greet them and direct them towards the school.

[Tviathe]

Cynthia saw the The Albatross land, and two people disembark. She strode over, several servants in tow. Cynthia stopped in front of the young lady and extended a hand with a smile.

"My name is Cynthia Vandor, and it's a pleasure to meet you. The other foreign students have already made their way up to the castle. I'll have..." She pointed to one of the bearers. "Him lead you up. The path's just a skip away. I'd do it myself, but I need to wait for the other students."

She was abut the dismiss them, but stopped mid-action. "If anyone blocks your way, just tell them Cynthia sent you. Go along now, the faster you walk the quicker you're out of the rain."

[Laka Strolistandiler]

“Comrade Alexandria, prepare to disembark!”
A rusty ship, somewhat resembling a ghost vessel from an old horror movie “Death Ship”, was moving to the pier to moor itself. Maneuvering with the all-turning screws, he easily docked and moored to the pier, lowering a short steel ladder onto it. Along it, dragging suitcases and never ceasing to swear, a rather masculine-looking girl with long blond hair descended, taking with her a pair of rather heavy suitcases. Putting them on the pier, she caught her breath a little, wiped the sweat from her face, and then climbed aboard, pulling out more suitcases. In this way, she ran back and forth five times, and when the last suitcase finally got to the ground, she sat down heavily on it, all wet from the severity of the work. The ship, having honked goodbye a couple of times, moored and hastily departed in full steam - it was necessary to hurry so as not to be out of schedule. After a couple of seconds of waiting, the princess got up from her suitcase and headed towards Cynthia, trying to look as polite as possible.

* in barely understandable Scottish-like accent *
“Guid day tae ye, comrade! ah suppose, ye'r in charge 'ere, richt? noo, wid ye kindly tell me whaur shuid ah drag mah luggage? 'n', afore ye ask, na, ah cannae afford th 'lobby baye services, sorry!”
((Without Scottish: Good day to you, comrade! I suppose, you're in charge here, right? Now, would you kindly tell me where should I drag my luggage? And, before you ask, no, I cannot afford the lobby boy services, sorry! ))

[Tviathe]

* in barely understandable Scottish-like accent *
“Guid day tae ye, comrade! ah suppose, ye'r in charge 'ere, richt? noo, wid ye kindly tell me whaur shuid ah drag mah luggage? 'n', afore ye ask, na, ah cannae afford th 'lobby baye services, sorry!”
((Without Scottish: Good day to you, comrade! I suppose, you're in charge here, right? Now, would you kindly tell me where should I drag my luggage? And, before you ask, no, I cannot afford the lobby boy services, sorry! ))

Cynthia was used to heavy accents, and managed to comprehend the girl's words.

"Good day to you as well. I'm temporarily in charge of getting you to the castle, yes." She paused and studied the girl's face. Where have I seen her before? Cynthia asked herself, and her memories drifted back to the students' files. I remember now, she was the scholarship student...

"You're Alexandria, aren't you? Don't worry, the cost of services was included in the tuition, which was waived for you." Both her words and smile were kind, but hidden within was pity. Cynthia knew the girl would have a difficult time in a school of wealthy, privileged students. She gestured for a bearer to walk forward. "He'll lead you and carry your things. If anyone blocks your path, tell them Cynthia sent you."

[Brettenwald]

Cynthia smiled in response to Terrijorr, and Andries led the students up the walkway and to the castle. The hill on which the castle sat was particularly steep, and the stone path slick with rain. Gradually the school's castle became more visible in the distance, the pale stone a stark contrast against the cloudy sky.

The pathway became wider as they went up further, and came to an end at a large wooden double door. In front of it stood two security guards. On seeing Andries, one of the guards turned and knocked on the door. It opened inwards with a creak. Light flooded out from inside, and the doors opened into the castle's spacious hall. Hanging down from the high ceiling were glass chandeliers. The hall had retained it's medieval beauty throughout the years, and even now looked like something out of a fairytale.

In the center was a middle-aged man in a wheelchair: Principal Fulbright. Marith, who was standing behind him, looked up as she saw the group enter. She ran out past the principal and gave Andries a hug.

"Andy, I am so excited to see you!"
"Last I remember, you said you'd rather me dead," he replied, trying to pry her fingers off of him.
"Oh, that?" She laughed, finally letting him go. "That was ages ago!"
"That was less that an hour ago."

"Andy, don't be such a grouch." She pushed him aside to see the two students behind him. "Besides, you should introduce me to the exchange students. I've been waiting forever to see them."

Adrian followed the group up the stairs, finally admitting to himself that yeah, maybe he was just a tiny bit cold. Should have worn thicker socks, or perhaps a pair of gloves. He could have hauled his luggage up himself, he'd gone on backpacking trips in worse weather, but it wouldn't do to turn the offer down and offend anyone.

Several minutes later, their little group filed through an impressive pair of doors and- Wow. This place looks like Hogwarts. Glass chandeliers, plenty of wood, very medieval if you liked that sort of thing. The older girl from earlier seemed to be in a much better mood now, giving Andries a not-wholly-welcome bear hug. Speaking of Andries, it seemed to be his responsibility to introduce them, so he just stood back a little and noticed that Terrijorr was looking at least a little better. Poor guy. Not from anywhere near this latitude, most likely.

[Zul-ar]

Cynthia smiled in response to Terrijorr, and Andries led the students up the walkway and to the castle. The hill on which the castle sat was particularly steep, and the stone path slick with rain. Gradually the school's castle became more visible in the distance, the pale stone a stark contrast against the cloudy sky.

The pathway became wider as they went up further, and came to an end at a large wooden double door. In front of it stood two security guards. On seeing Andries, one of the guards turned and knocked on the door. It opened inwards with a creak. Light flooded out from inside, and the doors opened into the castle's spacious hall. Hanging down from the high ceiling were glass chandeliers. The hall had retained it's medieval beauty throughout the years, and even now looked like something out of a fairytale.

In the center was a middle-aged man in a wheelchair: Principal Fulbright. Marith, who was standing behind him, looked up as she saw the group enter. She ran out past the principal and gave Andries a hug.

"Andy, I am so excited to see you!"
"Last I remember, you said you'd rather me dead," he replied, trying to pry her fingers off of him.
"Oh, that?" She laughed, finally letting him go. "That was ages ago!"
"That was less that an hour ago."

"Andy, don't be such a grouch." She pushed him aside to see the two students behind him. "Besides, you should introduce me to the exchange students. I've been waiting forever to see them."

Adrian followed the group up the stairs, finally admitting to himself that yeah, maybe he was just a tiny bit cold. Should have worn thicker socks, or perhaps a pair of gloves. He could have hauled his luggage up himself, he'd gone on backpacking trips in worse weather, but it wouldn't do to turn the offer down and offend anyone.

Several minutes later, their little group filed through an impressive pair of doors and- Wow. This place looks like Hogwarts. Glass chandeliers, plenty of wood, very medieval if you liked that sort of thing. The older girl from earlier seemed to be in a much better mood now, giving Andries a not-wholly-welcome bear hug. Speaking of Andries, it seemed to be his responsibility to introduce them, so he just stood back a little and noticed that Terrijorr was looking at least a little better. Poor guy. Not from anywhere near this latitude, most likely.

Terrijorr walked up the wet stone path, paying special attention to his steps.

Surely, this is a safety hazard? Imagine if someone fell.. He quickly ended that train of thought, not wanting to think of the death that would follow a tumble down the steep hill. Instead, he directed his imagination towards the castle. Already he could see it atop the hill, despite the rain that seemed determined to blur his view.

He was reminded of the great temples he had visited on the mainland. They, too, were situated on high ground, an effort made to be closest to Zul. The trek upwards was similarly steep, though far more exhausting. At the end it was worth it to stand high in the presence of Zul, and know He was watching.

He nearly bumped into the student in front of him when the group came to a halt. They had arrived at the castle. The doors opened inwards, and the sight was truly one to behold. Terrijorr had never seen anything remotely like this. He could not help but stare at the storybook-esque hallway, enchanted by the dazzling chandeliers and medieval decorations. But even greater than the beauty of the hall was the shelter it provided. He closed the umbrella, not quite sure what to do with it, and looked around the hall.

In the middle of the hallway he saw a man in a wheelchair. He immediately recognized him. That's the Principal, and next to him is... He also recognized her, the female student he'd seen yell at the short one. Except now she's... hugging him? Their interactions puzzled him, to say the least. This time around, without the whistle of the wind or crashing of the waves, he could follow the conversation. Something about an... introduction? Was he to introduce himself?

Gathering his confidence, Terrijorr spoke in somewhat broken, heavily accented English. "I am Terrijorr Se Zulovnor, from Zul-ar."

[Abetton]

It'd taken some time, longer than expected but with the seas swelling and the winds pitching harder it seemed like for a short moment the ship carrying young Miss Natsha might have to turn about.

"I wonder if we simply left too late?" Natsha mused. It would be a real shame after all, she was really looking forward to studying abroad. But it wasn't much longer a sailor sent to fetch her came in bearing the gear they needed "Be wet out, Miss, but you should be dry and warm enough. We're about to make landfall so hold tight."

Well at long last they did make it, the young lady and her maid dressed in a long sailor raincoat and sou'western style hats. They looked more like the sailors than a young upper class lady with her maid. "Woooh would you look at this place!" Natasha admired the exterior

"I'm sure it'll look better inside, Miss, why not get in and admire where it's dry and warm."

"Oh my, Sorry A.J. You're right let's head inside now." Though turning back, she couldn't help but wonder, who came in the sailboat? It seemed Abetton wasn't the only nation who had an affinity for the older ways of the world. So whomever arrived in that ship, surely they could be good friends. Well she hoped. She hoped she'd make friends. It was something she usually had little trouble with but some could find Natasha a little overwhelming at times. Well, inside they went, standing in the main hall to let the excess water from the rain and ocean spray drip off before tracking it all over the place.

[The Frozen Forest]

"Thank you!" Maria smiled and began to half run, half speed walk towards the entrance of the school alongside Sven and their guide (who Maria guessed wasn't too happy about being in the rain, certainly). After a short time the trio made it's way into the main hall of the school without water having soaked through any of their belongings, though having thoroughly soaked through their clothes. Maria set her belongings down and stretched. There had to be a restroom somewhere around where she could change out of her now wet clothes into something dry. The last thing she wanted was to get sick right as she arrived at her new school, not to mention how that would stop her from making friends at a critical time, possibly leaving her alone.

Sven looked around at the puddle they had managed to accidentally create and gave a little chuckle. "All this rain reminds me of a joke my father used to tell me. Maria, what do you call a wet bear?" Sven waited a minute and Maria thought it over before giving a small shrug. "A drizzly bear! Haha! Ahahaha!" Sven laughed so loudly at his own joke that Maria in turn giggled even though she thought the joke was corny. Maria had grown well accustomed to Sven's corny jokes over their months at sea, so much so that Maria sometimes found the jokes genuinely funny.

Maria heard the sounds of wet sloshing from behind them and spun around to see who had arrived. The new arrivals were a girl not far in age from Maria and a woman. The pair didn't seem to notice Maria and Sven but without missing a beat Maria crossed over to them with Sven quickly following behind her. Since she didn't know who she was addressing or what their station was in their own nation she withheld a curtsy and offered instead a smile and an outstretched hand. "Hello! Are you a new student too?"

[Abetton]

Maria heard the sounds of wet sloshing from behind them and spun around to see who had arrived. The new arrivals were a girl not far in age from Maria and a woman. The pair didn't seem to notice Maria and Sven but without missing a beat Maria crossed over to them with Sven quickly following behind her. Since she didn't know who she was addressing or what their station was in their own nation she withheld a curtsy and offered instead a smile and an outstretched hand. "Hello! Are you a new student too?"

A Drizzly bear, my what a silly pun! Natasha thought while holding in a chuckle, though hard to say if she had let it out if anyone would hear it with the storm outside. She could feel the rain dripping off her golden hair down on her neck which was a bit irksome. The girl ahead of her turned around to introduce herself which was nice, nice to already make friends. "Why yes I am! Pleasure to meet you, Natasha Gale. Go figure, my name is Gale after fighting one to get here. Though i suppose they did warn us the seas would be harsh enough to keep us here for the coming months."

[Vrijstaat Limburg]

A LONG WAY FROM HOME

Theme

Gereon Aravatius Förster-Hoebricht
Somewhere in the North Atlantic
November 9th, 2021
FSS Saint Boniface

Gereon watched as the vivid yellow stream elegantly splashed into the wild waves of the Atlantic ocean. He tried to follow it with his eyes when it quickly disappeared below the bright white foam caused by the boat’s engine. Then, when he comprehended that he could start packing up, he gave his leather breeches a tap or two, and raised his head, watching the patrol boat that had seen fit to so kindly given the Limburgian ship an escort. He raised his right hand, and stuck out both his fingers to the Tviathean naval officer that was undoubtably standing on the bridge in his finest white uniform, dutifully inspecting the foreign vessel through his binoculars. To an American, European, what have you, the gesture would have looked like a peace sign, to an Englishman, however, it would have been seen as insult. The officer could decide whichever way he wanted to interpret this gesture.
Though Gereon knew there was no guarantee that a seaman dressed all in his finest navy whites was gazing at the boat now, but it was nice to imagine that it was so. Alas, where he studied half his life and worked to get a post on a ship to see the world, all this particular gentleman would see was a teenager, standing in his Lederhosen, with his right hand up and his fly down. What a sight.

“Gereon?” a familiar voice called out, trying to shout over the noisy engine. The boy turned himself around, and was immediately greeted by a grinning Marcel Dumont, a lieutenant of the Republic’s miniscule brownwater navy and commander of this ship. Gereon’s right hand, which still had that very same gesture he had given the other officer on the other ship, quickly turned into a salute, the boy slammed his right boot against his left, letting out a loud crack as he stood to attention. His left hand, which he had formerly intended to use to close his zipper, now instinctively laid at his side. What a sight, indeed.

The officer greeted the boy with a look of disgust. “Get yourself in order, mate.” How many hours the man wasted in the boy’s company was beyond him. All this for a propaganda op, for some bootlicking secretary’s son to get to some deserted island in bumfuck Iceland, or wherever the fuck they were going. Dumont could hardly remember when they had sailed off from Cork. He did know that he was quickly running out of whisky. He’d brought his own stash, and got some on the way. Before the officer continued, the boy quickly took to making himself more presentable, packing up everything he had shown to the supposed Tviathean naval officer earlier, and closing his fly, so that his intimate state secrets would remain intimate state secrets.

Not wanting to stick to the awkward topic at hand, nor wanting to remain complicit in the awkward silence that was slowly developing between himself and the teenager, Dumont seized the word once more, telling Gereon: “I’ve been told you won’t need that.” - This was about the Nicker, was it? He slid his left hand onto his side once more, now completely covering the hilt from Dumont’s gaze. No words were exchanged, merely two lengthy stares, underwhelmed by that roaring engine. After five seconds or so, Gereon slid his hand into his pocket, and revealed the knife. The steel glistered in the morning sun, and, for some reason that was categorically beyond him, the lad did not seem to be able to give it up.

“Shouldn’t have told the staff.” Dumont asserted, he reached his hand out towards Gereon. Without uttering a single word, the boy retrieved his protective scabbard, and at the blink of an eye, the steel vanished. Sighing audibly, he handed the knife over, and watched as the officer deposited his blade in his own bag. Now he was all alone again, with naught but the sea to comfort him. He turned his head, watching over the colossal dark blue waves of the Atlantic. How very far he was from home now.

When the sight of the sea and the ship that had been stalking the small craft four hours started to bore him, he looked about himself. The three crewmen of the ship, young lads, conscripts from the North of Limburg, from the mellow flatlands and Meuse lakes, looked tired and overworked. They had run long shifts to see to it that their riverboat would make it. Compared to the patrol ship on their tail, the Limburgers were sailing in a dinghy. This Patrouillenboot 80 had been designed to sail across the calm lakes of Switzerland, but when the Limburgers bought some for their Meuse campaigns against the Dutch, no seaman could have expected that, one day, these boats would make an Atlantic voyage. Förster senior had been convinced that this was completely safe, and that the men would make sufficient stops along the way, that the Swiss technology would guarantee that his son would arrive without a hitch. Never one to admit it himself, Gereon felt doubtful, but left his doubts on the quay when they departed; they would not aid him at sea. To make as much use of the fuel as they humanly could, the men had hardly packed anything. Gereon himself had kept most of his most important belongings at home, bringing with him only the bare essentials. Perhaps he should have packed even less. The lads would have surely appreciated that.

“If you don’t mind me asking, sir, why have you decided to wear that?”

It wasn’t a strange question in the slightest, the boy thought to himself. The only thing that unnerved him was how the sailor chose to address him. They were both of common background, and, as far as Gereon was concerned, the men were equal in every possible capacity, except for military rank, he supposed, but that was of no consequence, as he wasn’t on duty. To the sailor, the cargo he had been ordered to transport was a so-called grey prince, a son of some opportunist or ideologue that had made a career for himself in the new reactionary regime. They both looked at one another for a short while, studying each other, trying to look into the opposite person’s mind.

“These Tviatheans are expecting foreigners. If they want foreigners, I’ll deliver. This is about as foreign as you can get, is it not?” his tone was cold, and, truthfully, the lad wasn’t particularly happy to have his outfit judged like this. He thought it was a good idea, and could scant see why running around in such painfully traditional clothing could be considered silly and pretentious. A thing that differentiated the two men in particular was their manner of speech. The sailor spoke in a common, average Dutch, with a slight Limburgian accent. He wasn’t particularly used to speaking the ‘new’ national language at his job, and thus chose the ‘old’ Dutch as his reliable choice of communication. The prince naturally responded in Limburgish, the language propagated by the regime and the legion, and though his accent was stronger, and seemingly more rural, a very cautious listener could hear something was off, somehow.

Then, both Gereon and the man were spurred into action by a simple, two-vowel word. “Land!”

One of the crewmen had laid his eyes on the coast. The day had been rainy, and far too wet for Gereon’s liking, but there had been hardly any fog, so the men could see most everything on the horizon, including the ship. All the men present on the boat rejoiced. Gereon did so because of the fact that he could finally make landfall and get off this dreaded ship, and the men that brought him here were just glad to be alive; none of them had expected to do this kind of work when they signed up. Hell, half of them had been conscripted properly, and the other half had volunteered at gunpoint. Nobody was happy to be here, save for the lad. The captain ordered that the engine should be revved up a wee bit - they had been quite economical with the Saint Boniface on the way, fearing that they may run out of gas and be stranded. Knowing that they could make the very end of the journey, they did so with little patience, and sped forward, hoping to reach the land as soon as they possibly could.

Gereon took out the single ten ruble coin he'd found on another forlorn island on the way here. He could not put up with the names of all these barren rocks, the name of the nation - Tviathe, however one was to pronounce it, left the boy speechless anyhow, so there was no need to occupy himself with those pesky little isles. He leaned back in his chair, and weighed the coin in his hand, playing with it a bit. This was the only Tviathean money he had on him, and it could hardly buy him a lollipop. That is to say, it could hardly buy him a lollipop in, say, the capital. This island, having a pool of the most wealthy, spoilt people in the world, was probably a bit more luxurious. He lifted the coin up in the sky, inspecting the way the sun fell on it, watching as the heavy downpour grazed the pale metallic lining.

Before Gereon even noticed, the boat approached the pier, steered and maneuvered by Dumont himself. Finally wanting to get this blasted teenager and his heavy bags off their ship, the crew speedily organized a farewell committee for the grey prince, booting them off their tiny boat as swiftly as they could. The lieutenant drank the last drop of whisky from his flask, and Gereon was the first to disembark, his duffle bag slung over his right shoulder and his left hand in his jacket's pocket. He placed his left foot on the brick quay, and set foot on dry land, for the first time since what felt like ages. He flicked a single dockworker, who genuinely didn't seem that intensely interested in the boat or its crew, watching the larger, more expensive ship instead, his ten ruble coin, in a way he expected an English gentleman to. "My men require fuel for their trek home." the young Limburger announced, gaining the attention of no one in particular. He then waltzed on, walking in a manner that expressed self-confidence and imperiousness.

He set his gaze onto the impressive keep atop the isle's hills. It reminded him of home in a very surreal, unexpected way. Then, he stumbled upon two women conversing a bit farther up. The one on the left looked younger, but by God, was she a giantess. A lass towering above all the others that had collected themselves at the harbour, she stood a foot taller than the second-tallest man. This sight did not remind him of home at all, not in the slighest.
The closer he got, the better he could make out their chatter, which wasn't saying a whole lot, as the steady flow of rain tapped against the cobbled pavement at his feet, effectively drowning out most other noises. He got up to Cynthia, expecting her to know where he should go, considering she was one of the few adults about. When he did pick up on some of the talking, he managed to decipher that they were to walk up the path to the castle well enough. He didn't want to stand around and waste pretty words, particularly in this sodden weather, and thus stepped up his walking a bit, quickly catching up with the giantess.

"Damn fine weather, eh?" he would ask, in a crisp Ulster accent. All the posh educators had fled the South during the civil war, and now only a poor few remained. His own teacher, an old Irishman from county Fermanagh, had seen civil strife and sectarian violence in his past. He had fled it then, he would not flee now. He remained, teaching children in bombed-out buildings. No child spoke English with American or southern English accents anymore, they now spoke with regional dialects, which they had taken up from their teachers. Gereon in particular, a prodigy who felt he was quite adept at learning English and German, adapted the accent and made the language his own, essentially becoming fluent in it.

[Tviathe]

Principal Fulbright wheeled forwards on his chair. He was in close resemblance to his son, Andries, both sharing forest green eyes and sandy blonde hair. Andries and Marith stepped to the side and out of his way. He was now in front of the two foreign students, looking up at them.

"Welcome to the Tviathean Royal School, Terrijorr," The principal said with a smile. "And welcome..." He was now speaking to Adrian, unsure of his name.

"He's Adrian Kêrota, from Brettenwald." Andries whispered in his father's ear.

"Welcome, Adrian," Principal Fulbright continued, "I do apologize to the both of you for the lackluster welcome. Unfortunately, I can't say the weather will ever get much better, it's this awful half the time. You'll get a chance to relax in a moment, there just a few procedures to go through."

He wheeled over to the desk on the left side of the hall. Standing next to it were two security guards. "One at a time, put your things on the table, and they'll do a basic security check-"

"Look, there's more of them!" Marith interrupted, pointing behind them. Sure enough, at the very entrance stood Maria, Sven, and Natasha.

[The Frozen Forest]

Maria heard the sounds of wet sloshing from behind them and spun around to see who had arrived. The new arrivals were a girl not far in age from Maria and a woman. The pair didn't seem to notice Maria and Sven but without missing a beat Maria crossed over to them with Sven quickly following behind her. Since she didn't know who she was addressing or what their station was in their own nation she withheld a curtsy and offered instead a smile and an outstretched hand. "Hello! Are you a new student too?"

A Drizzly bear, my what a silly pun! Natasha thought while holding in a chuckle, though hard to say if she had let it out if anyone would hear it with the storm outside. She could feel the rain dripping off her golden hair down on her neck which was a bit irksome. The girl ahead of her turned around to introduce herself which was nice, nice to already make friends. "Why yes I am! Pleasure to meet you, Natasha Gale. Go figure, my name is Gale after fighting one to get here. Though i suppose they did warn us the seas would be harsh enough to keep us here for the coming months."

"I'm glad I even managed to get here. My government decided to send me on one of those old sailing ships and I was almost certain we'd capsize before we arrived. My name is Maria Björk, my family rules The Frozen Forest." Maria waved towards Sven who took a step forwards and offered a deliberately long and heavy bow to Natasha. All semblance of mischief or jokes had disappeared from his trained expression and they were replaced by one of deathly seriousness. Maria turned back to Natasha and absentmindedly gestured towards her gesticulate servant. "This is my servant and bodyguard Sven. You wouldn't guess it but years ago when Sven was a child he was a homeless nobody on the streets of our capital. My father took him in. Fed him, clothed him, educated him and eventually hired him."

Maria felt her clothes beginning to stick and thought it uncomfortable. Looking around she didn't see anywhere she could change and sighed regrettably. "It doesn't look like there's anywhere for us to change. I'm going to continue on, it looks like there are more people ahead. Would you like to walk with me? Where are you from?"

[Abetton]

"I'm glad I even managed to get here. My government decided to send me on one of those old sailing ships and I was almost certain we'd capsize before we arrived. My name is Maria Björk, my family rules The Frozen Forest." Maria waved towards Sven who took a step forwards and offered a deliberately long and heavy bow to Natasha. All semblance of mischief or jokes had disappeared from his trained expression and they were replaced by one of deathly seriousness. Maria turned back to Natasha and absentmindedly gestured towards her gesticulate servant. "This is my servant and bodyguard Sven. You wouldn't guess it but years ago when Sven was a child he was a homeless nobody on the streets of our capital. My father took him in. Fed him, clothed him, educated him and eventually hired him."

Maria felt her clothes beginning to stick and thought it uncomfortable. Looking around she didn't see anywhere she could change and sighed regrettably. "It doesn't look like there's anywhere for us to change. I'm going to continue on, it looks like there are more people ahead. Would you like to walk with me? Where are you from?"

"Oooh, so it was you who arrived in that beauty of a ship! I spotted it and wondered who might be coming in that! Sven, nice to meet you. This is Amelia-Jeane, she's my handmaiden."

"A.J. Will suit me fine." A.J. replied with a curtsy.

"Anyway, I think that's a good idea to move on ahead, I think we've dripped off enough. I'm from Abetton, to answer your question, a fairly sizable kingdom but small in just about everything else." She got a bit of a chuckle out of that, not the most clever joke but oh well. You mentioned you're family is the ruling family? That's impressive! I'm hardly in that status. My father is in the King's circle for military matters but take that away I'd be a commoner by all other definitions."