The Cazatanian Diplomatic Formal (MT, Semi-Open)

[Franberry]

Acting President de Marnomora descended from his carriage as all the invitees to the Cazatanian palace looked on in pure awe at the imposing and grand sight that was the product of Havenite civilization, surely to see so many clothed people at once was not a sight they were accustomed to back in the maoist dictatorship of bongo-bongo land or whatever the cluster of huts they pretended was a nation was called. With both feet firmly on the red carpet, he stood before a youngish red-haired woman. de Marnomora bowed deeply as he noticed her short hair and the fact that she was wearing a suit. Surely a lesbian. However, being a most polite man, as he was towards all lovely ladies, he took off his hat and clasped her hand within his glove, bringing it to his mouth were he deposited a most gentle kiss upon it. "I assure you that the real privilege is mine." He passed her, putting on his hat, and strolled up the garden steps towards Robert, the Cazatanian President and the President of Pennsylvania "How do you do my dear fellow." de Marnomora outstretched his hand towards his host, "lovely party" he said, "and you, I don't believe we've met before but I know of you by reputation" de Marnomora stretched his hand towards President Hundley.

de Marnomora used the tip of his cane to prod the man next to the President squarely in the chest. "Be a good fellow and bring me a gin and tonic if you please, my throat is a bit parched. Heres a shiny silver coin for your troubles." He flicked the coin at the rather unkempt looking man, hoping that he would do his job properly. As he waited for his drink, multiple servants were laying down the presents for the Cazatanian president, still bundled-up under covers.

[Tarsas]

The emperor simply flicked the cane away. After catching the coin, he raised an eye brow at it. "I'll get an aid to fetch you a tonic.". He tossed the coin on the ground, leaving it for whoever wanted it. He was actually sort of glad this man was treating him as common rabble. With all of the ceremony and protocol and all the "sirs" and "my lords" he often got, being treated like a servant felt sort of good in an odd way. He turned back to the Cazatanian president and shook the outstretched hand. "I'm Emperor Steven I of Tarsas. This is a fine formal you've put together here." He motioned to one of his aids, who brought him a champagne glass filled. "In my nation, it is a custom to bring something to add to every celebration, so I have brought the finest champagne, vodka, and wine money could buy. The aids should be setting it out now." Several men were setting out bottles on tables in the back, with ice and glasses nearby. An aid walked up and handed the Franberrian president the drink He had requested.

[Franberry]

The emperor simply flicked the cane away. After catching the coin, he raised an eye brow at it. "I'll get an aid to fetch you a tonic.". He tossed the coin on the gound, leaving it for whoever wanted it. He was actually sort of glad this man was treating him as common rabble. With all of the ceremony and protocol and all the "sirs" and "my lords" he often got, being treated like a servant felt sort of good in an odd way. He turned back to the Cazatanian president and shook the outstretched hand. "I'm Emperor Steven I of Tarsas. This is a fine formal you've put together here." He motioned to one of his aids, who brought him a champaign glass filled. "In my nation, it is a custom to bring something to add to every celebration, so I have brought the finest champaign, vodka, and wine money could buy. The aids should be setting it out now." Several men were setting out bottles on tables in the back, with ice and glasses nearby. An aid walked up and handed the Franberrian president the drink hye had requested.

"Good god you have AIDS? No I most certainly do not want this drink you've brought me!" de Marnomora was most shocked when the servant flicked away his cane. Most insolent of the plebeian to do such a thing, and now he declared that he had AIDS, what a strange and vulgar fellow. "I most certainly don't want to be contaminated, and I doubt the other dignitaries here would want such a thing either. If you leave now I shall double your days wages." Surely it was an irrefutable offer for someone that, by the looks of it, made about a dollar a day.

[Tarsas]

OOC: hahahahaha

The emperor simply stared, dumbfounded. In all his years, he had never seen a man as dense as the one standing before him. The golden crown on his head was evidently an indication he wasn't a servant, but he didn't care. "Obviously, I meant the servant. Quite a poor first example of a Haven nation I am meeting. Your supposed to be the pinnacle of civilization."

[Franberry]

"Its you're, with an e at the end." de Marnomora had always thought of himself as a spiritual guide for his people, a bit of a teacher. It warmed his heart to be able to instruct this poor servant in proper English grammar, although he did not have much hope for the man who wore some sort of twisted tin can, yellowish from rust, on his head. "You're is you are, your is the possessive of the second-person personal pronoun."

[Cazelia]

Ingram took the Franberrian's hand and shook it firmly, like most Cazatanians tended to do. He found it unusual that the man was wearing a top hat, something that he thought was an obsolete way to show off wealth. He let it be, as it didn't really concern him, nor did he care what a foreign dignitary was wearing. After all, he thought, it must just be part of their culture.

"I'm doing well sir. Let me first say it's an honor to meet you, President de Marnomora." said Ingram confidently, releasing his grasp on the President's hand. Maximillian noticed the Franberrian President prod the Emperor of Tarsas with his stick, and the resulting conversation that included a misunderstanding regarding the difference between an aide, as in a servant, and AIDS, as in acquired immunodeficiency syndrome. It made him chuckle under his breath, even though he realized how terrified the Secretary of State was, who had just peered over from a conversation with a well dressed man from Cymrulds. He felt the need to explain the situation to the Franberrian President, just to make both the now uneasy President Hasley and ever more horrified Secretary of State Weins feel better.

"Excuse me, President de Marnomora, I believe the man you are talking to is the Emperor of Tarsas, not a servant, sir." Maximillian explained politely. Ingram smiled and nodded at the Emperor, acknowledging the kind offer of refreshments from the Tarsasian delegation.

[Jeuna]

[ I just got my computer fixed today, so I hope I can still join. ]

Fan Banou watched the golf game progress while he leaned on his driver, and tugged down his tweed flat cap to keep out the midday sun. The heat of Jeuna's lowlands baked below him, and even nearer to the mountains, the climate was annoyingly humid. He was aware of a small, insistent buzzing in the pocket of his vest, and he grunted, swinging his enormous frame—by the usual Jeunese standards, anyway—upright. He tossed the driving iron to his caddy and snatched the little touch-screen phone out of his pocket. He glanced at the caller ID—the Secretariat, in Qiao; his professional advisers (although they drove him bonkers and he would have preferred to have fired them all).

"What?" he grunted into the mouthpiece without waiting for a greeting, motioning for the players that had turned around to see if the game would be called off to continue. They turned back to give him some privacy. The Aequatian ambassador was ignoring him for the moment, shielding his eyes and trying to see where his ball was going to land. Fan's eye tracked the little white sphere as it sailed clear over a lake. The Aequatian had a good swing.

"Ah... Chanzheng Fan, it ah... seems we forgot to tell you..." The man's voice drifted off, obviously trying and failing to figure out a way to broach the subject of his failure.

"Out with it!" Fan roared into the phone. Some of his party jumped, and looked back nervously. Fan shooed them away with a wave of his hand. The ambassador chuckled.

"We scheduled you to attend a state function in Cazatania and nobody wrote it down," the man said in one hasty breath.

"You what." Fan's voice was utterly and completely flat. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. "So—what are you saying? When is this thing?"

"T-Today, Chanzheng Fan. It's going on now."

There was an awkward silence.

"What— Oh, for fu— You idiots! Swear to Heaven you are all worthless!" He fumed silently, and this time the golfers were trying their best to not listen, except for the ambassador, who was trying his best not to laugh overtly. "All right. Shit. I'm going back to Zhudao now. Get something ready." Fan thumbed the phone off and jammed it in his pocket. He took a deep breath, and clapped his hands together, gathering attention to himself. "Gentlemen!" he said cheerily in Praetonian, for the benefit of the Aequatian. "I'm afraid something has come up, and I won't be able to continue our game. Please, feel free to continue." He turned then, and hopped into the golf cart with his caddy, which trundled off at a frustratingly slow pace. The others breathed a sigh of relief.

- - -

"Chanzheng Fan!" Someone was calling to him, from across the tarmac. He was outside of Zhudao, on the tarmac of the Guliu Bay Space Centre, having hurriedly changed into a three-piece wool suit in his limousine. He now sat in that same limo, with the window cracked a little against the wind that whipped across the copious flatland. He rolled it down a little more. "Chanzheng Fan, we are ready for you now," the engineer (he supposed) said. Fan nodded, and signalled for his driver to move off in the direction of the launch track. The engineer retreated to the building he'd come from. His Secretariat had arranged it with JASPER's administrators and Startravel, Inc., and assured him it would get him there in record time, and in style rivalling his Chevrokian Aerospace CA1000-500J. Well, he'd see about that. They also assured him it was perfectly safe—Fan's fear of flying was not publicised, but it was known. Fan still didn't trust the gigantic craft, sitting parked at one end of what looked like an incomplete roller-coaster.

Some minutes later, Fan was strapping in to his seat. He double- and triple-checked his safety harness to make sure it was good and secure, so much so that a stewardess came by to check on how he was doing, until he waved her off. He didn't even want to think about the bill for this—and didn't. Instead, he drummed his fingers on the armrest while he waited for the pilots to run through the last few items of their preflight checks.

- - -

Fan realised he had fallen asleep when a thundering rumble woke him. He looked to his left and out the porthole, trying to see if a storm had started. Some grey clouds were drifting in, but they were still afar off, and this was closer—and more uniform. The sluggishness of sleep left him in an instant, and he realised he was hearing rockets: eight SABRE engines, suspended from the wings of the spaceplane in twin-engine pods.

"Good day, President Fan—this is the Captain speaking," said a voice over the intercom. The same stewardess that had come by earlier checked on him a final time, wished him a good flight, and then hurried to her cubbyhole to strap in. "We will be taking off and climbing to about twenty-six kilometres, when we will switch the engines to exoatmospheric and enter a low-Earth orbit to Cazatania. ETA should be about two hours. Cazatania doesn't have a spaceport that can handle us landing, so we'll touch down in a lake near the Palace." Fan nodded to no one in particular—this was the plan that he'd approved, and had been briefed on before he strapped in. "After that, there will be a boat that will take you to port, and we've scheduled a limo to take you right to the formal." Fan noticed the change in the Captain's choice of words, and hoped that there would actually be a car waiting, and that it wouldn't be some filthy taxi to be shared with proletarians. He shuddered.

"And that's all—thank you for flying Startravel." The mic cut out, and the engines pitched louder, climbing up the scale until the cabin was filled with a dull roar. He felt the spaceplane move forward, slowly at first, and then building momentum. He felt a slight tug to his right as it wound its way around the track. Before he knew it, he was suspended in the air, moving at hundreds of kilometres per hour.

- - -

Fan was roused from his short nap by the sensation of descent, and his eyes fluttered open. He looked out his porthole and saw that they were over Cazatania, dropping steadily toward what must have been New Berlin, by the sprawling lights. He thought spied the lake that they were to land on, and settled back in to wait out the long drop.

- - -

Fan awoke again with a jolt as the spaceplane tapped the water with its landing skids. They smacked down again, and held there, swiftly decelerating the craft. He looked down at the now-awake form of the stewardess, who at some point had decided to occupy the seat next to him and use him as a pillow. He chuckled, and shook his head. To be a bachelor! It was an awful and wonderful thing. He sent her off while the hundred-and-twenty-metre spaceplane manoeuvred around in the lake with its engines as low as they would go, picking a spot next to an ekranoplan (with a crest on the side which Fan recognised as Franberrian—now there was a land! he thought with admiration).

Fan stood when the engines began dying down, lurching forward a bit under the waves. Fan found his sea footing a minute later, and made his way down the central aisle, straightening his suit as he went. He descended a couple of levels, until he was nearer to the surface of the water, and found the door open, another stewardess standing watch. She waved cheerily. He nodded to her, and planted his homburg on his head, before ducking out into the speedboat which would take him to shore.

- - -

To Cazatania's credit, there was in fact a limousine and not a taxi waiting for Fan beyond the pier. It was also driven by a competent driver, who did not attempt to point out the scenery or make small-talk, as some often did; instead, he took the shortest route possible to the party (his payout by the Jeunese government was probably based on speed). Fan stepped out of the back (he was surprised to find that the driver also knew to open the door for him), and, breathing in a double lungful of night air and with a wrapped box under his arm, took stock of things.

[Franberry]

"Oh whoops. I am at fault here it seems." de Marnomora was polite and always accepted the blame when it fell on his shoulders, as all honest, handsome, extremely successful men did. "Thank you for informing me of that dear fellow." He turned to the Emperor of Tarsas, "mea culpa old friend!" touching the brim of his hat as he said so.

"Mr. President if you would be so kind as to allow me to present to you the gifts that we have brought, over this way." A low rumble interrupted de Marnomora, who, as was everyone, was puzzled as to the origin of the ever-increasing sound. Suddenly, the ground started shaking as if the earth had decided to have one of its little earthquakes. "I daresay we should go outside and see what all the commotion is about."

[Tarsas]

"Its you're, with an e at the end." de Marnomora had always thought of himself as a spiritual guide for his people, a bit of a teacher. It warmed his heart to be able to instruct this poor servant in proper English grammar, although he did not have much hope for the man who wore some sort of twisted tin can, yellowish from rust, on his head. "You're is you are, your is the possessive of the second-person personal pronoun."

The emperor sighed. "Obviously, Haven isn't all it's said to be. I am well aware on how to speak sir, my Tarsan accent often makes it sound as if I am speaking incorrectly, and I am not. When saying you're with a Tarsan accent, it sounds as if I am saying "your"." The crown was most certainly not rusty, and probably had more jewels on it that this man had ever seen in his life, since he did seem to be a very ignorant man. It made the emperor wonder how exactly he was ever elected. He stored that away when formulating his foreign policy on Franberry. He turned to the Cazatanian president. "Are you interested in discussing trade? We have extensive iron veins and a large agricultural surplus, and I am sure it could benefit both of our economies. Coal is also extensively mined in our colonies. We are in need of oil due to the increasing amount of cars being purchased. Our small wells will be dried up within ten years, twenty if we conserve them, and we are trying to increase foreign oil purchases to conserve our small supply."

[Bendira]

Akban stood still, allowing the Cazatanian General handle the opening greeting to the Pennsylvanian president. Akban was pre-occupied watching the diplomats from Tarsas and Franberry going at it like school children. "Damn pricks" he said, as he took a drag of his cigar. He then realisedhe had said it outloud, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear.

Since Bendira dosn't have an official military, the FLB-SDPF paramilitary could be considered "self employed". Because of this, Akban did not feel the need to restrain himself as much as most foriegn military commanders do. Not to say that he didn't care about foriegn policy, but it merely wasn't something that he considered vital. Akban liked to achieve respect through honesty, not through flashy presidential escorts or marching bands.

He took another drag of his cigar and watched the Tarsan diplomat argueing with the Franberrian diplomat about AIDS. Akban didn't find the
Franberrians diplomats misunderstanding very funny. For once, he actually felt sympathetic to the Tarsan.

Tarsas and Bendira had a rocky history, both fighting on opposite sides of the May Day war. There was also an incident a while back involved a Bendiran aircraft that entered Tarsan airspace and was shot down. Diplomatic relations between the two nations were not very civil. Akban decided to re-focus on the conversation and ignore the imperialist rabble at the other end of the event.

[Cazelia]

As the Jeunese man left the limousine that had been provided to him and was taking stock of things, a young, tall, attractive woman in her mid twenties took stock of the newcomer. She quickly approached him and offered her hand to shake.

"Welcome to the Presidential Palace, I assume you are President Fan of Jeuna." said Congresswoman Samantha Wesson, intoducing herself as such after welcoming the new foreign dignitary. She reasoned that the rumbling that had occurred a few minutes earlier had something to do with the Jeunese man's method of transportation, and she was correct in that assumption.

-----

After the Franberrian was informed of his mistake, the previously horrified Secretary of State actually began to relax. President Hasley responded to the Tarsasian Emperor first on the subject of trade.

"Cazatania is a nation with much to offer in terms of trade. I believe we could create a continuous flow of oil to your nation for various other items of trade, such as iron and coal. Does that sound reasonable to you, sir?" Asked the President "Ah yes, I almost forgot; Cazatania has a powerhouse of a civilian small arms industry, and we are willing to export to your nation, provided that your nation does not have a ban on firearms." He finished "Now, let me speak with President de Marnomora about these gifts." President Hasley turned back to the Franberrian President.

"Now, about these gifts you have spoken about, sir." He said.

[United States of PA]

“Tis a pleasure to meet you General Roberts, as well as yourself Administer Akban, I’ve heard a great many things about the both of you. I believe I overheard you gentlemen talking about Airborne troops right?”

Right as the President finished saying that, the roar of aircraft engines overcame the area, loud enough to make anyone with sensitive ears cringe like a scolded dog.

“Sounds like someone’s trying to Carpet bomb the place”

After the noise finally subsided, and conversation was able to resume without having to yell over the sound of aircraft engines, President Hundley directed a question at the Cazatanian General.

“General Roberts, I don’t seem to recognize the unit badge on your uniform, may I ask what unit it is? Last unit I served in was the 32nd Amphibious Heavy Assault Brigade, 4th Marine’s, I served as Brigade Commander for 3 Years before I was forced into Politics’, against my will so to speak. Since I was one of the men who would charge across beaches under heavy fire, I guess I cant really speak for Paratroopers, however, since I’ve entered the world of politic’s, I’ve made the acquaintance of 5 Generals who have at one point or another served as Commanding Officer’s of the 3 Airborne Divisions my Army Maintains, the 11th, 13th, and the 82nd, so, while I have nevered served in such a unit, I think I can speak relatively, though, of course, as the Present Commander in Chief of my countries Military Arms, I can speak for what role different units hold in our armed forces.”

Shortly thereafter, out of the corner of the President’s eye, he noticed the Franberrian President coming towards him.

He passed her, putting on his hat, and strolled up the garden steps towards Robert, the Cazatanian President and the President of Pennsylvania "How do you do my dear fellow." de Marnomora outstretched his hand towards his host, "lovely party" he said, "and you, I don't believe we've met before but I know of you by reputation" de Marnomora stretched his hand towards President Hundley.

As President Hundley outstretched his hand in order to shake de Marnomora’s, he queried
“And what reputation is that Mr. President?”

[Laurette]

OOC: If it's still okay to join, I'd like to as well

To: President Ingram Hasely, the Democratic Republic of Cazatania
From: Grand Duchess Penelope X, of Laurette

Dear Mr. President,

We were delighted to receive your invitation to the formal, so many nations seem to leave the Grand Duchy out of these things. I'm afraid that I will be unable to attend personally since my eldest son will be taking command of his new ship on that date. I will, however, make sure to send my personal representative, Mr. Alan Withers. Laurette too is just reaching out into the world at large after a period of isolation, and I hope we will be able to establish a peaceful relationship with one of our fellow nations.

Sincerely,

----------------------------------------------------------------
It had been quite the marathon simply get to the capital in answer Her Majesty's summons. The solidly built, deeply tanned man with graying hair had been enjoying his two weeks of mandatory summer vacation with Penelope at her beach house out in the islands. Now he was on his way to... Allen looked down at the note card on which he'd scribbled the nation he was visiting; Democratic Republic of Cazatania. Somewhere here in the back seat was the Foreign Intelligence Division's report, but considering the mess two days of driving had made it would take longer then it was worth to retrieve the lost folder. At least he'd finally been able to change into his suit at the rest area. Damnit why couldn't Penelope have given him slightly more notice then a couple of hours notice that his vacation was canceled. Then Alan sighed, just like they were back in the service.

The woman at the wheel of his aging Dale Steel Minor, interrupted his thoughts. She sounded more nervous then usual, "Sir, I think we're here."

"Good god," Allen adjusted his glasses as he stared at the impressive Franberrian craft sitting on the lawn, "There's a Havenic nation in attendance?"

Now a bit concerned he felt a bit self-conscious in his plain gray gabardine suit, red vest, white shirt, and red tie. At least he'd brought a cake Alan thought as the small car rolled into a parking spot among the myriad of other, far more modern state vehicles. Emily was moving to get out from behind the wheel to open up his before he pushed her back down with a smile, "No need for that Emily, just grab the cake out of the trunk if you would."

Even though his mind was filled with O'Dell induced near diplomatic incidents (coffee in one lap, letter opener in the hand of another, broken glass) but he was confident his maid could handle carrying a cake she'd baked herself. At least that's what precedent showed. Buttoning his suit jacket, no, he decided against that and unbuttoned it again. It was chilly but a buttoned suit coat was an annoyance to his thinking. Waiting at the corner of the car he slammed the trunk shut after Emily withdrew the cake from the cool trunk.

"Which one d'you think is the President, Em?" Allen said sticking his hands into the coat pockets while stoically surveying the array of party guests across the lawn, "My Braxton's on the fellow talking to the fop."

Shrugging best she could with a cake in her hands, his maid looked down at the cake, "Yes sir, that's President Ingram Hasely."

His obvious happy surprise drew a blush that was obvious even with her head down, "Ms. Franklin made sure I read the file thoroughly, to make sure you didn't 'mess up' sir."

"Naturally," Allen laughed but avoided his usual reassuring pat on the back, not a good idea to press fate, "Let's see if a lowly envoy can cut into the big boys."

[Cymrulds]

Alison's smile faded slightly. She didn't like it when people started to figure her out, though she gave the man credit for noticing her military style. She quickly caught up with him, just out of curiosity regarding his character.

"You seem to know my past quite well then, Mr. James. I served as an infantry officer when I was twenty, to confirm your suspicions." Alison said plainly "I served until four years ago when Ingram brought me into his cabinet because of my popularity in the Market Liberal Party. I've worked at the Presidential palace since then." she finished, her smile starting to return "Could I help you to a drink with, new friend?"

The President, on the other hand, was interested in discussing free trade with the Viscountess. He caught up to her and spoke.

"Viscountess, would you be interested in discussing a free trade deal between our two nations? I do believe our nations have much to offer mutually."[/quote]

The Vicountess smiled at the President and blushed "Why Mr. President, such serious business already. I declare you are going to make me a very old woman at this rate!"

The Vicountess blushed and put a dainty hand to her mouth in a mock gasp. James leaned over with a mischevious grin and whispered into the Vicountesses ear

"Now who's the one doing the flirting?" He asked

The Vicountess straightened bolt upright as if someone stuck a firing pin into her back and a playful smile went across her face as she gave James a mock slap.

"Really now James behave yourself! You'll have to excuse James he's a bit of a playful one."

James smiled at this and looked over to Allison "Your military past is quite intriguing, I have been in the Cymruldian Marine Corp for around six years now, I joined at eighteen and didn't quite enjoy life as an enlisted man so I made the leap frog over to the officer side and I must attest life is quite better on that side although I do see more combat now that I'm an officer which is not altogether a bad thing. In fact Allison I was hoping I'd meet some here that was military. I brought you a gift"

And with that he handed her a smoke grenade, which looked like a regular explosive military issue grenade, and pulled the pin and after doing so he grabbed the Vicountess like a Quarterback and they both tumbled backwards through the railing and into the pond with a splash right as the grenade exploded into a dense cloud of smoke.

The Vicountess leaped up from the water and was very clearly angry at her escort for the evening, she whispered several terse inaudible words before pulling James out of the pond and giving him a roundhouse punch in the face before storming into the house for a change of clothes.

James came out of the water with a sheepish grin and said "It was an accident, I swear!" And with that he plunged back into the pond and shed his clothing until he was in his birthday suit and hopped out and walked into the house after the Vicountess.

[Tarsas]

The emperor agreed with the president. "Yes, let us see these gifts before such sensitive matters are discussed." He turned toward the door to look at whats the gifts were going to be. He was sure he could match this Franberrian in any gift, no matter what it was, he just wasn't prepared to expend that sort of state money.

[Cazelia]

The shocked and confused Secretary of State just stood on the stairs where the now buck naked Marine officer had pulled his stunt, with the mock grenade still in her hand. The ceremonially dressed Presidential Guard would have raised their rifles if it wasn't for the quick thinking of Vice President Spicer, who had realized it was a dummy grenade just before it went off, simply from experience in the bomb disposal unit of the New Berlin Police department. However, the President, hearing the pull of a grenade pin on such short notice brought back memories he would have rather kept in the far reaches of his mind.

'Oh, no no no...' He thought, memories of combat racing through his mind like a runaway steam train. He was a strong man, and he knew now was definitely not the time to break down. Maximillian had seen the way the President looked now on several occasions before this one, but it had been eight years, and it wasn't as bad as it used to be.

-----

"Don't worry everyone, it was a mistake. That's not a real explosive Miss Weins is holding." Explained Maximillian, grudgingly. He had a distaste for men of such arrogance, to put it lightly. Back in his paratrooper days, he knew a man like this one in his platoon; arrogant, showy and womanizing. The idiot had brushed off Maximillian's suggestion to keep his eyes peeled for communist 'terrs' hiding in the bushes. His arrogance earned him a hollow point through the eye.

Maximillian now turned back to the Franberrian, Bendiran, and Pennsylvanian who were most likely quite relieved to hear that it wasn't a real frag. He recalled the Pennsylvanian's question and answered it.

"I served with the seventeenth airborne division of the Cazatanian, based out of Mortun. We specialized in counter-terrorism up until the wars with British Londinium, and we've got quite the record of fighting Communist terrorists back in the south." He said proudly and with distinction "I was an enlisted man myself, but my commanding officer thought I was a good leader, so he sent me to Officer's Candidate School back in nineteen eighty one."

-----

Meanwhile, Alison had come back to her senses and moved herself to the pond, where she dropped the 'grenade'. She turned back to President Hasley only to notice he needed to be jolted back to his senses. She deducted that the sudden grenade debacle had brought back memories of the Cazatanian - Londinian wars. She approached him and gave him a reassuring pat on the back, whispering a word of wisdom in Cazatanian in his ear. He took a deep breath, adjusted his tie, and returned to the other delegation.

"I'm sorry friends, now, shall we continue where we left off?" He said.

-----

A few minutes after the debacle had ended, Vice President Spicer noticed a new delegation. One of them was a woman who appeared to be Royalty, and the other a sharply dressed man who appeared to be her escort. She walked over to greet them, extending her hand when she was as far as two feet away.

"Welcome to the Democratic Republic of Cazatania, I'm Vice President Alexandra Spicer. You must be Grand Duchess Penelope the tenth of Laurette." Alexandra was rather embarrassed about not knowing the name of the Duchess's escort "Not to sound rude sir, but your name has escaped my mind, would you mind reminding me who you are?"

[Bendira]

"Ah, terrorism eh? Communist terrorists at that..." Akban said thoughtfully. He raised up his cigar and took another puff. "What do the Cazatanians consider terrorism?". Akban raised one brow in an inquisitive manner. "The FLB-SDPF did not recognize terrorism as an actual term for describing rebels. In fact, the FLB-SDPF views the label of "terrorist" as something that the state uses to de-legitimize enemy combatants". Akban realised he was still partially facing the direction of the, in his opinion, attention whorish display of nudity and smoke grenades, so he re-adjusted himself to face more squarely with the General before continueing his questioning. "The FLB-SDPF believes that war in general is an act of terrorism. Take the American Revolution for example, American insurgents used terrorism to defeat the British army in the colonies, and yet they condemned the Islamic extremists in Iraq for using similiar tactics against U.S. troops". Akban raised his cigar and took another long puff before continueing. "So with all of this in mind, and with the seemingly absent universally accepted definition of terrorism, how are these communist rebels terrorists?"

[Cazelia]

Maximillian remained unconvinced. The term 'terr' or 'terrorist' had been applied to the communists by his generation of soldier, the ones that had witnessed their families murdered or their friends killed in suicide bombings. It was never an official term.

"We use the term terrorist to describe the Communists because of their tactics, sir. Unlike other rebels, such as the radical anarchists or the secessionists of the same decade who only attacked soldiers, the communists would almost exclusively target civilians and unarmed military personnel. The term 'terrorist' or 'terr' was a soldier invented saying. The official designation was 'Communist insurgent', but it didn't seem personal enough to foot soldiers such as myself." Maximillian explained.

[Tarsas]

Emperor Steven had walked over with the mention of communist terrorists. "The simple definition of a terrorist is a person who uses the harming innocent civilians to create destabilization and tyranny. You only have to simply guess at certain nations that Tarsas would file into such a category. War is the only exception to this category due to the fact that some civilians dying simply cannot be helped. Insurgency groups are the real terrorists."

[Cymrulds]

Anna walked back outside in a beautifully elegant evening gown and approached the President.

"Mr. President, I must apologize for the behaviour of my escort for the evening, his behavior does not represent the good wishes and intentions of the people of Cymrulds and it certainly is a poor reflection on all of us." Anna said giving a deep bow of honor before the President in the traditional Japanese style (As their are significant pronounced japanese impressions on the culture of Cymrulds)

At that moment her escort walked back out, completely naked and unaware of his nudity because he was so comfortable in his own skin. "Mr. President, it appears my humor has gone awry and has caused us all embarassment. From the bottom of my heart I apologize."

Anna leaned forward just slightly, "This man, my escort for the evening, is my well endowed brother and as you have figured out while he may be a master at wooing fair maidens he certainly has not mastered the art of diplomacy quite yet."

And at those words James blushed slightly, walking by him was a waiter with a tray full of champagne flutes. Picking one up he handed a glass to Allison and another glass to Anna. Raising he made a toast "To an uneventful evening, a free trade agreement between Cymrulds and Cazatania and getting to know Allison better"

As he raised his glass he squeezed it a bit to hard and it broke, glass shards fell downwards cutting his groin area and the delicate items in that area as well as his hand that was holding the glass. Wincing in pain, he smiled, "And despite accidently cutting myself, the sentiments remain the same." And with that Anna smiled too, albeit impercetibly.

[Tarsas]

The emperor took off his satin overcoat and tossed it to the naked man. "Have some decency man. This is a formal, not a stripclub." He took a champagne flute and sipped it, going back to his conversation with the Bendiran and the President.

[Cazelia]

Ingram turned back to the Viscountess and the still buck naked man next to her. He winced in horror, and focused back on the well dressed woman in front of him.

"Apology accepted Viscountess, but I'd appreciate it if your escort dressed himself for the sake of the other delegates." Said the President as he noticed Maximillian drag both of his hands down his face in disgust. Alison, who was standing next to him was slightly offended at this man's personality, especially considering he was ex-military. She had never met a Marine like this, and it made her fear for the nation of Cymrulds if it ever was invaded.

"I must agree with the President. Please sir, could you clothe yourself?" Alison asked, though it felt slightly more like a demand coming from her. If he declined, she considered drop-kicking the man, and then pressing his face to the pavement with her shoe until he apologized for his disrespect. She decided against that course of action, because she knew it would make the situation worse and make the rest of the Cazatanian delegates look like savage brutes.

[Jeuna]

Fan caught the movement of a woman out of the corner of his eye, and swiftly set down his package as his former driver took off. Heaven above, he hoped he'd be able to call the chap back. It was all such an underplanned trainwreck, and if he ever found out who had dropped the ball, he'd... Well. That would be then—this was now. Fan smiled broadly as the woman approached.

"My, my!" he chuckled. "Am I already being set upon by the lovelies?" He bent to kiss her hand, completely unaware that she was intending for him to shake it as he would a man's hand (he would have recoiled at the thought), sweeping his hat off in the same motion. He straightened, eye-level with the woman; a strange feeling, even after jet-setting about the world for coming on three years now. "You assume correctly, Miss, ah...?" He lifted his eyebrows, inviting her to answer; he was momentarily distracted by the commotion further down the walkway. Plebians. God rot the nouveau riche, he thought sourly, and was somewhat perversely relieved that Sun was not here—he might be obliged to say this about that. And now here was the previously-doused woman, returning to imitate a piratical nip! He realised he was scowling, and shook himself out of his funk, returning his attention to Ms. Wesson. It simply would not do to upset the young thing.

[Laurette]

"Buh!" Emily managed to stammer through the shock of being mistaken for the monarch, they wouldn't believe her when she'd insisted it would be a bad idea to borrow an emergency dress from the Grand Duchess. Not only was it unfitting of her station, but something like this was bound to happen. Now what was she going to do?

"Madam Vice President, it's a pleasure to be here. I'm Allen Withers, the Grand Duchess' personal envoy," Allen stepped forward quickly to intercept the Vice President's hand, not only for the sake of the cake but to correct her before poor Emily fainted. Though he wasn't entirely sure how to politely correct the Cazatanian VP. No doubt once her composure was recovered he would hear no end from Emily about his insistence she borrow from Her Majesty's wardrobe with a full recap of her argument against it. That was sill in the future however, "And that lovely lady there with the cake is my escort for the evening, my assistant Ms. Emily O'Dell. Unfortunately, Her Majesty was unable to attend because of a prior engagement so you're stuck with us. And a cake!"

[Bendira]

"Unfortunately its not a strip club" Akban said to the Tarsan as he took a drag of his cigar. He then looked at the Cazatanian and smiled. "Fair enough sir". Akban still didn't agree with the Cazatanian useage of the word terrorist, but he decided not to press the issue any further.

"So tell me General, what is the Cazatanian military doctrine, and how does it affect the Cazatanian airborne?". Akban really wanted to ask this question, because it would be the basis for forming a possible military alliance with the Cazatanians. A very fundamental question that required an answer before moving forward.

Akban looked back at the Tarsan Emperor and laughed to himself. "What a pukey imperialist douche" he thought to himself. He smiled at the Tarsan though, almost to humor himself. He found it really funny to smile at people he hated, after all, he subscribed to the theory of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.