An Heir For Scrawloor (Open)

[Scrawloor]

OOC: I am an old poster, who wants to start with a new story with a new nation, so do not treat this as a newb post, please.

IC:
The stooped figure of a man, stood upon the harbour wall, gazing out upon the fierce waves that crashed against its walls, drenching the hems of his ancient threadbare robes, deepening the already dark cloth to an indigo that would shame even the Harbour-Seneschals. His bald patch gleaming with moisture and his dyed whiskers hanging limp on his cheeks. His ancient form swaying with the wind that rushed with every fresh blast, as if in tune with elements that surrounded him.
To think it, you would not believe this little old man to the last scion of an ancient house, husband to three, father to one and The Gentleman of Scrawloor. This was Alburn Awbor, The 27th Gentleman of Scrawloor, Lord of the Tides, Director of the Drift and Master of the Moorings, and several other titles long forgotten..........
A lord without an heir.........

Behind him, shrieks and screams erupted from an even older,smaller man, scurrying along the thin pier, screeching with every wave crash. His attire was not dissimilar to that of his lord; a lilac robe, a half cape of brilliant jade which partly hid his disfigurement, and a japar, the conical hat and veil more often worn by the women of the court. His stubbly chin, covered in little scars ,drenched in saltwater.
Awbor heard these shrieks and ignored them, just as he always ignored the whimpering and whining of Moncritt Mastorian, Master of Flags, and his eventual heir.
"Sealord, forgive me for intruding, I feel it my duty to plead with you to discontinue this search for an heir outside the realm. It is foolishness personified, Sealord. The Loorians will not accept a Gentleman not of the Scraw.We cannot waste such time and coin on this venture."
"I disagree Mastorian, and you show your own foolishness with every word, Flagmaster. You wish me to stop so you may plot my own downfall and the downfall of my house and install your own rule upon The Scraw. You are relieved of your post as my Flagmaster, and Lord of Heralds."

The little man had obviously heard of his imminent expulsion from court and came well prepared. From beneath his woolens he produced a small flintlock,and cocked it at the Sealord.
"You are truly fool, Moncritt, you truly believed that a flintlock will work after that drenching. And you truly believe that I have not had guards watching your every move.Take him."
The Knights of The Awbor Trident, were the chief police force of both land and sea, and as such were the most feared, all coming from ancient merchant and aristocratic families.
They were adorned in the steel attire of the House Guard; steel greaves, breastplate, and the helm adorned with the silver merman of The Scraw. They had proceeded silently along the pier not alarming the old man.
It did not take long for the humpback to be imprisoned, and the renewal of the mission.

And so it was that, Alburn wrote the letter to the world in his own way;

To The Lords of the World

I,Alburn Awbor, 27th Gentleman of Scrawloor, write to you to ask for your help. I am an old man, but a man without an heir. I have one daughter, Alyse, my only child from three wives. She will not inherit the Harbour Seat, due to her sex. And so with me the Awbor House shall die and the tradition that has lasted centuries will wither like it has in so many other nations. So I send to you all a proposition: I would like to adopt a young male heir from one of your many houses, this boy shall then when he reaches the age of sixteen, shall become apart of Awbor House,changing his name to Awbor and in time will marry my daughter Alyse who is currently ten.
The boy can be an heir to an estate or a title,etc. but when he inherits my realm, his main title would be Gentleman of Scrawloor, and addressed as Sealord, forever more.
I enclose a form which you fill in your chosen childs details for examination and cross reference.

Code: Select all

Name:
Full Titles:
Noble Blood Y/N:
Age:
Current Noble House:
Father:
Mother:
Visited Scrawloor Y/N:
Interests:
Education:
Culture:
Bio:


Yours Eternally
Alburn of Awbor

[Scrawloor]

bump

[Kelonna]

Name: John Gerhardt
Full Titles: King
Noble Blood Y/N: Y
Age: 24
Current Noble House:
Father: Myke Gerhardt
Mother: Samantha Gerhardt-Grulles
Visited Scrawloor Y/N: N
Interests: Games, friends, ruling the country
Education: Apart from high school, none. He joined the airforce right after it.
Culture: Western
Bio:

John was born as the only son of king Myke and queen Samantha. He was an average student and eventually he got a sister. He always protected her from other boys. He didn't really pay attention on high school. He had already made up his mind. He wanted to join the airforce and become a pilot. All he had to do was graduate. He barely made it, but he made it. And so he joined the airforce. During training he was the best pilot his instructor had ever seen, and he completed training 4 years later.

When he was 23, terrorists attacked the Kelonnan capital, and the military quickly mobilized to invade their country. He wanted to fly, and get deployed. But he wasn't cleared for deployment because he was the only heir to the throne. After complaining to his father for almost every day for a month, his father allowed him to go. He flew combat sorties against enemy strongholds, and he got promoted to captain for his many successful missions. The war wasn't over yet when he heard the news that his father had died from a heart attack. This meant that he was king. He returned home and continued where his father left off. He just hopes he'll be as good a king as his father was.

[Scrawloor]

To the Government of Kelonna
From The Harbour Seat

Thank you for your application.

PS. The application was mainly for teenage boys who might have a title,such as duke, count, baron. I'm afraid King John would not be able to take the Harbour Seat due to his role as a sovereign.

Alburn Awbor

[Whittin-Greys]

The Ausitorian nobility, globally connected as they were, eyed the announcement cynically and with a profiteering eye; regarding the situation as somewhat peculiar. Nevertheless, they were interested, and, knowing that there could be a large number of appropriate people in Ausitoria, the Emperor himself, also a Whittin-Grey, decided it would be appropriate for them to come to terms and together select an appropriate youngster - after taking precautions. Thus this youngster would have, if necessary, the full backing of the Whittin-Greys, not to mention the House of Lords and Advisors.

To: Sealord Alburn Awbor
From: The Whittin-Greys, on behalf of the Lords and Advisors of the Imperial Commonwealth of Libraria and Ausitoria

Dear Sealord,
We the lords of Libraria, Apraecia, and Ausitoria have ridiculously large numbers of young males who would fit your criteria, but we would not send young children to suffer cruel and unusual exotic pains. Therefore we would like to thoroughly investigate your nation to determine if it is appropriate for us. In return we have prepared a form of our own for examination and cross-reference.

Code: Select all

Who makes legislation?
Who executes laws?
Who judges laws and the execution of laws?
Who has the right to vote in elections, and for what positions?
What is the population and GDP (NSD) of Scrawloor?
What are powers of a Sealord in Scrawloor?
What rights are defended by law?


We shall also be dispatching investigators to investigate your nation to determine for ourselves just how satisfactory it is, in case of peculiar goings-on.

We need hardly add that any Sealord of 'ours' would have our prosperous backing.

We have the honour to remain,
Your servants,
The Lords of Whittin-Grey, (on behalf of)
The Lords of The Imperial Commonwealth of Libraria and Apraecia and Ausitoria, etc.

(OOC: this is also a small semi-sovereign nation with an old player behind it.)

[Scrawloor]

To: The Lords of Whittin-Grey, (on behalf of)
The Lords of The Imperial Commonwealth of Libraria and Apraecia and Ausitoria, etc.
From: Alburn of Awbor, Gentleman of Awbor, Lord of the Tides, Master of the Moorings, Director of the Drift..etc.

I welcome your inquiries into the way we live and understand your wanton to protect your young from the foreign and unknown and as such will answer your questions as best as I can.

Who makes legislation?
Legislation is put forward by the Harbour Seneschals of The Spit,(The Spit being the true name of the domain,The Scrawloor Spit), these leaders of the community submit their legislation to the Gentleman's Council, and there it is decided upon by the five strong council and the Gentleman has the final decision if the council is in deadlock.

Who executes laws?
The laws of Scrawloor are executed by the Harbour Seneschals and their deputies, The Harbour Bailiffs. The Bailiffs patrol the harbour-cities and source out smuggling and other illegal practices within their area. When a citizen is arrested then they are brought to the nearest Justicarian,(police station/court).

Who judges laws and the execution of laws?
The Justicars of Scraw are what I believe your people call judges. They are addressed as "Lord Justice/Lady Justice." The courts of Scrawloor are headed by the Justicars and for serious cases can be double headed by a Justicar and the regional Harbour Seneschal.
A murder case or treason; high or low, is judged by the Gentleman of Scrawloor.

Who has the right to vote in elections, and for what positions?
Every citizen over the age of 25 have the right to vote.
[*]The positions available for election are twenty five of the twenty eight Harbour Seneschal positions. The other two are decided by the Gentleman.Each position on a six year term.
[*]Seventy three Justicar positions,each position on a seven year term
To become a Harbour Seneschal, you have trained for seven years while being a Bailiff.
To become a Bailiff you must train for four years in college and another three in training.
To become a Justicar you must have been a Harbour Seneschal for at least two terms beforehand.

What is the population and GDP (NSD) of Scrawloor?
The population of the Spit,is around 2,967,000, which is quite over crowded for a nation made mainly of rocky islands and sandspits,covering 17,204.

What are powers of a Sealord in Scrawloor?
Rules over the Gentleman's Council, bestows titles, appoints all military officers, appoints ambassadors and other foreign envoys, acts as the final court of appeal and had the power of pardon.

What rights are defended by law?
All the rights in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.


Alburn of Awbor

[Whittin-Greys]

The Whittin-Greys were fairly impressed. Not a tin-pot dictatorship immediately liable to coup-d'etat. Not enormous and unmanageable. "The sort of thing you would have as a secundogeniture for a minor royal," Prince Martin, head of the Whittin-Gold-Greys, pointed out. He was himself a minor royal, the 2nd heir by descent of the first Emperor.
The great potentates convened a meeting in the Emperor's New Hall in the vast Whittington Palace - a hall that had once been the Emperor's courtyard, but which had been given a glass roof. Candidates were considered, secret ballots went ahead, and eventually an appropriate scion was selected, in exchange for promissory notes, a slight redistribution of shares in the family, and the creation of a new Joint Stock Company to take the risks and assets of the whole enterprise. The Company, Scrawloor Commodities Inc, immediately floated 25% on the stock exchanges, raising in value by 24% within five minutes, and falling by 22% within an hour before it recovered upwards.

Although everybody understood it was clearly a long-term investment, nobody was entirely sure how profitable the venture would be. So far the expenses had been the food for the two meetings and a VSTOL aircraft with staff car for driving around the country to check it, and were expected to also include a few more meetings, a royal yacht, a royal household, and the kitting out of a commercial HQ in Scrawloor and in Alexandria. Profits - hoped for - included commercial contracts on things like banking, universities, schools, manufacturing, lawyering, shipping, housing, public transport, and tourism - although as the Prime Minister cynically pointed out, "we could make money from all this whether our selection becomes monarch or not." And it was true, but despite it, the craze for 'Scrawloors' had gripped the imagination of the Ausitorian population. Here was a paradise just waiting to import Ausitorian goods and services, and to enrich the Ausitorian culture by cultural interchange, they thought. Very good.

To: Alburn of Awbor, Gentleman of Awbor, Lord of the Tides, Master of the Moorings, Director of the Drift etc.
From: The Whittin-Greys, on behalf of the Lords and Advisors of the Imperial Commonwealth of Libraria and Ausitoria
Dear Sir,

We thank you for your kind and prompt reply. We have come to the conclusion that the nation of Scrawloor is very satisfactory and indeed it would be an honour to be involved in making it an ever more prosperous country. We therefore attach our first candidate for your consideration:

Name: Lord (Hon.) Richard Whittin-faure-grey
Full Titles: KG (Knight of the Order of the Golden Hawk), heir to a Principality
Noble Blood Y/N: Y
Age: 15 years, 11 months
Current Noble House: Whittin-faure-grey
Father: Lord Marcus Whittin-faure-grey
Mother: Lady Anne Whittin-beaumont-blois-grey
Visited Scrawloor Y/N: N
Interests: Politics, Chemistry, Physics, Music, Geography
Education: Ausitorian Secondary Preparatory A and A* Grades in above subjects, and in Higher Level Maths, Grade 4 Cello RSM, Grade 6 Piano RSM.
Culture: Cultured young gentleman. More information available on request.
Bio: Born on the Isle of Newton, on the border between Libraria and Ausitoria; brought up in Newton until the age of 10, when transferred to Alexandria. More information available on request.

Also an VSTOL investigatory aircraft registered WGC-4782 signalling the word 'Whittin-Greys' in morse code, is now approaching Scrawloor with a small delegation (16 people) on board, including our candidate, to take a look around Scrawloor. Please do provide them with temporary permits and grant them an audience.

We have the honour to remain,
Your servants,
The Lords of Whittin-Grey, (on behalf of)
The Lords of The Imperial Commonwealth of Libraria and Apraecia and Ausitoria, etc.

"This is a request for landing permission from aircraft WGC-4782 from the Whittin-Greys please," said the pilot, looking round for a runway and wondering whether he would have to go into VSTOL landing mode, and hoping it wasn't a trap... his finger hovered over the countermeasures button as he entered Scrawloor Waters. Behind him the delegates nervously adjusted their clothes. They would be on their best behaviour, naturally...

[Scrawloor]

"Received. Follow the Seadragon LKT-234T we are sending your way. He'll show you the way. Over."


Runes Rookery had been sent into upheaval since the arrival of a message from the Head of the House of Whitten-Grey, making the palatial cacophony of white stone spires and turrets into a dissarray not seen since The Empress of Kinlorne visited seven long years ago. The entire castle was festooned with ribbons and bunting, making the usually greyer surroundings of Rookery Crossroads in Lower Scrawtown look more like a medieval tourney than a regal meeting.
On a balcony in the ancient palace, the Sealord stood as could be predicted; staring out onto the raging sea, while wind, rain and the cold buffeted his proud but feeble form.
He could hear the servants scurrying around inside, trying to be unseen (as was their job), while also trying to make the Sealords Study look even more august than it usually does. But Alburn played his part and stayed looking out onto the sea. The sea was what truly ruled The Spit,he thought, not an old man nor a young boy.
He rambled inside and fidgeted with his dyed side-whiskers, his wrinkled face showing nothing. He thought about the little lordlings who were arriving. He had dispatched his most loyal man (namely Jars Roderick Crussy, a most capable man who was raised to his Jarly for services to the economy)to welcome the delegates, to a place that was seldom used by visiting dignitaries, the airfield. Alburn would have gladly sent one of his fleet to transport them to the Spit but they had arrived so quickly that he had not had time to recommend this.
The Sealord decided it was not right to greet these grand delegates in drenched clothing, and so trundled over to the private room where his most regal of robes were kept. These robes were the preferred attire of most Loorians in the Scraw, a long and heavy cloak often dyed in blues or greens were brilliant for keeping the eternal wind, rain and storms that thundered through the Scraw, off their back, while their suits or dresses were keep crisp and warm. While for the rulers of the windswept rocks, these were the uniform.
Alburn picked his favourite lilac robes and adorned them, tying the belt and fixing the sleeves, he felt better already.

Just as he did this, a knock sounded and without a single heartbeat, a young teenage girl also adorned in lilac robes, with white and fading purple hair. To look at her, she had more of her late mother in her; her charming smile, her shapeliness, and her facial features, but when you looked into her eyes, you could see old eyes, eyes older than her years, eyes that showed great wisdom and strength; A Sealords eyes.
"Good afternoon,father. How goes your day?" she said, while proceeding to the over-sized armchair that stood beside the fire.
"Happily, Alyse. Happier for the sight of you."
"Have this young lord arrived? I would meet this usurper to my title before the dinner, so I can get to know him."
"You mean scare him away, Alyse, and I will not have it, not after the Jasp boy and the young man from Crastonia House. He is hopefully my heir. I think I hear them arriving, let us go and meet them."
"Yes, father." she replied sulking mockingly.


OOC: you can continue from wherever you choose, and venture on from this point if you would like.

[Whittin-Greys]

Having arrived happily at the airport, the delegates proceeded in two limousines they had brought with them of the largish variety. The first was painted silver, the second dark blue, as denoted whittin-grey and other nobility respectively. The delegates were all dressed similarly, in dark blue, purple, red, black, and silver ermine robes for the nobles and velvet coats for the members of government, coronets adorning the heads of the Royal Highnesses. The cars arrived, and, gliding gracefully like ocean liners, their occupants entered the reception room - in a modified and rather circumspect order of precedence. The usher - the Ausitorians had one on standby - announced them, and they nodded or raised their hands as they were announced, scanning the room with smiles. They spread out around the entrance, forming a semi-circle round the Monarch.
Lord Francis, Duke of Augusta, Deputy Cabinet Secretary of the Imperial Commonwealth; and His Royal Highness Prince Albert de William. Their Royal Highnesses Princess Catherine Whittin-grey d'Elizabeth, and Princess Anne Whittin-Grey d'Margaret. His Royal Highness the Prince Charles d'Elizabeth and Her Royal Highness the Princess Diana d'Elizabeth. Lord Alfred Whittin-white-grey d'James, Lord John Whittin-fitzjules d'Aubrey, Lord Henry Fitzmartin, Lady Joan Whittin-grey-fitzregent. Lord Robert Whittin-Taylor, Lady Dianna Whittin-beaumont. Her Grace Lady Jane Demarque and Lord Rupert Whittingmare, Governor-General of Whittington, Alexandria. Lord Edward d'Charles Whittin-marq-grey, Deputy Minister for Statistics of the Imperial Commonwealth; and Lord Richard Whittin-faure-grey d'Marcus.
They bowed and curtsied together. "We are your obedient servants," they murmured, and the latter two advanced towards the monarch.
"May I present Lord Richard Whittin-faure-grey d'Marcus," Lord Edward, probably the youngest in the room other than the candidate, asked the monarch. Lord Richard knelt on one knee, and looked up at his potential father-in-law, waiting to be offered a hand to kiss; and all of a sudden he was very thankful for the extensive training all the Ausitorian nobility behaved as he realized he was staring into a force backed by traditions much longer and stronger than Ausitoria's. He shifted his head slightly under that challenge, acknowledging it, and measuring it.

OOC: If you would like to skip what may be an enjoyable but undoubtedly fairly long and drawn-out RP, I'm sure we can OOCly fix any major events? We could for instance fix pleasantries amongst the entire court OOC, and proceed to smaller-scale meetings?

[Scrawloor]

Alburn proffered his hand shyly, having forgotten the foreign custom of kissing a dignitaries hand. He smiled politely at the young lordling stood before him, a fine strapping young gentle-fellow.
"The Tide Has Risen, Let The Drift Bring You Fortune."declared The Sealord.
"Truly It Has, Blessed Bounties Be Thine." intoned the assembled servants and nobles.
"We greet you in the name of my houses founder, Arborius of Ad Ausona, with the greeting of my people. I am Alburn of Awbor House, 27th Gentleman of the Spit of Scrawloor, Director of the Drift, Master of the Moorings and Lord of Tides, and many titles known and forgotten. I welcome you into Runes Rookery, and Lower Scrawtown, the capital of the Spit. Now before you I set my daughter, Alyse of Awbor House...." and with that Alburn returned to fingering his wispy whiskers.
Alyse stepped forward and genuflected towards the centre of the group, with her head bowed she pronounced;
"Graces Be Given, Good Is The Gail. Welcome to The Spit of Scrawloor, and welcome to Runes Rookery and into the arms of Awbor House. I am Alyse of Awbor House, Jartil of Masee and Wigtown, Daughter of Alburn and Granddaughter of Alphonsus." Without warning she stepped back into the retinue and lowered the veil of her japar, dyeing her face a gentle violet hue that matched her hair.
Having greeted her guests and lowered the veil of her japar, she had fulfilled her role as the only and so chief Jartil of Awbor House. Feeling relieved with her duties done, for now, Alyse decided to truly check out this young lordling who planned to take her fathers throne.
The only positive to this, she thought to herself, is that I get to spend some time around some foreign dignitaries, this palace is just so stuffy sometimes.

Alyse looked at this Richard Whittin-faure-grey, she did have to hand it to the princeling, he did have a certain look about him; refined looking face, a quiet smile, clever eyes and he also had a lyrical voice, hard to come by in the rough spoken local lads of Wigtown or even Lower Scrawtown.

"Now, I welcome one and all to the Harbour Hall, right this way, through the arch", and without even giving a second glance back to the startled guests, who tried desperately to keep up, the ancient Sealord sped ahead down by hardened marble columns and through intricately carved pumice arches, until he reached a tiny door and finally stopped and looked around, to see his guests hurtling at break neck speeds, though somehow with the utmost grace behind.
Without delay he opened the door and popped himself inside...........

[Whittin-Greys]

... and the delegation came through directly behind. After the initial shock of motion they had settled into the Ausitorian 'sea-style' - cruising like battlecruisers, with all the pomp, refinement, independence, and self-assurance that anyone could possibly muster. A few, out of neo-Sconan 'habit' made gentle clip-clopping noises as they went, in remembrance of the knights of old; and thus the assortment of delegates sailed, steamed, and rode; depending on their fancy. Even the older ones amongst them rather enjoyed the chance to stretch their legs - having been cooped up and shuttled about it was very refreshing to arrive in a mobile court. Much better than standing around. It leant the palace an irrepressibly bracing air. It was as though the Palace was saying 'out with the old, in with the new', some of them fancied.

Yet despite their style of graceful self-command they were constantly on the look out, avoiding collision with the marble pillars and carefully scrutinizing their surroundings like scouting parties and quartermasters from on high. They noted the behaviour of their hosts, checking for suitability: Graceful pomp and circumstance, certainly: tick. Proper cultural wealth: tick. Half good. Interest of heir: Ah, a more difficult one. Nothing much either way yet. Although that was not a surprise - opening formalities were hardly complete. And then the final one: Politics? Where was the Gentleman's Council, where were the Justicars, and Habour Seneschals, and what did the population think of all this?

[Brittanican Adenia]

OOC: Also old nation working back into RPing after a 2-year hiatus - yay new job!

Original nation?

Betjeman House, County of Thorold, Adenia

Betjeman House was a man's castle, if only in the modern sense. Build shortly after the civil war that had racked Adenia, it housed one of the old guard, a family of nobility before the chaos that had consumed the country, and who had spent significant amounts of their fortune rebuilding and rehousing the local populace of the valley town below. Despite the local populace's gratitude, it was still necessary to have armed guards at the gate; riflemen who's sole role was to watch over the ground and it's inhabitants.

"Yes...I'll have it in the East Breakfast Room, Andrews. Five minutes if you please, and if you could have my post brought through..."
"Of course, your lordship. Right away. Footman! The post!"

Andrews glided away, as Adenian butlers are wont to do. He would summon breakfast from the kitchen for his lordship, a veritable feast of toasts, cereals, preserves, and porridge. The kitchen was toward the rear of the building, central of the two wings to allow easy transport of food to both levels. The kitchen staff were already up, busy cleaning for the day ahead - floors scrubbed, silverware polished, and an inventory of the pantry for the Senior Cook to do his shopping list later on. The Senior Chef himself was overseeing the affair, albeit with his head in the newspaper, oblivious to the scurryings and workings of his kingdom around him.

"Mister Thomas! Breakfast, East Room! Five minutes!" Andrews' voice echoed through the servants corridors, surprising the Senior Chef nearly out of his seat. "Right away Mister Andrews! Mavis, Emily, we'll have breakfast now please. East Breakfast Room. And can you wake Jones please, I need a word. Take him some tea, it should placate him a bit."

-

Oblivious to his servants, Lord James Julian Betjeman-Stowald was engrossed in a letter that had been placed before him by the footman. It was a letter from foreign parts, Scrawloor. An heir was required, it seemed, and James could only think of his son Oswald; 13 years old. Boy was more accustomed to being out on the horses, but there was nothing wrong with preparing the boy for later life, being an heir and future nobleman.

"Andrews!" James pulled on a cord hanging inconspicuously by the curtain, and a faint tinkling could be heard in the depth of the house. Like magic, Andrews appeared at the door - prim, proper, unruffled; despite the fact that he had nearly had to run across the house.

"Your lordship?"
"I'm likely to be going abroad shortly; I'll need my valet, and Oswalds. Probably a coachman, a groom, a couple of the carthorses, and the clarence. All to be readied post-haste. Where is Oswald?"
"Polo, your lordship. Match finishes in about an hour."
"Send him to me on his arrival. Have his valet pick out a couple of dinner suits, some daywear. Oh! And I'll need a pen and paper."
"Right away your lordship."

----

To the Honourable Sealord Awbor,

Your letter reaches me such far-off reaches as Adenia; truly, it is an interesting situation, and a sad testament to the plight of nobility that such things need be done!

The House of Betjeman is one of the oldest in Adenia; present in all walks of life but primarily a family of Government and with a strong seafaring tradition.

Nonetheless, I have heard of Scrawloor in my readings; The Herald has committed the odd article in it's international section, and it seems a thoroughly forward-thinking nation, with proper tradition and custom. I would like to present my son, Oswald James Charles Betjeman-Stowald, as a possible suitor to your daughter. At 15, he is my second son, and therefore second-in-line to my properties in Adenia; as far as properties abroad, I am yet to decide.

My son is due to enter the Royal Nautical Service on his 16th birthday; like his grandfather, he will be destined for a commissioned officership in the Nautical Service and a career of some esteem, most certainly command of a vessel.

Name: Oswald James Charles Betjeman-Stowald
Full Titles: Squire
Noble Blood Y/N: Y
Age: 15
Current Noble House: Betjeman
Father: Lord James Julian Betjeman-Stowald
Mother: Lady Marie Amelia Betjeman-Stowald
Visited Scrawloor Y/N: N
Interests: Polo, sailing, cricket, shooting, hunting with hounds.
Education: Currently attending St Gabriel's College as a day student.
Culture: British (think 20's/30's nobility)
Bio:

Oswald was born at Betjeman House, after a long and difficult pregnancy. Lady Marie very nearly died in his birth, and spent many months recuperating. Oswald, however, defied all expectations, growing to be a strong, strapping lad, with excellent grades and a penchant for horses. Now 15, Oswald shows signs of following his grandfather's, rather than his father's, footsteps onto the ships rather than into politics.

I trust this will proved adequate; please, do not hesitate to correspond by return of post - I shall dispatch this by my own messenger rather than relying on the common post - any return can be dispatched by him.

Humbly,

Lord James Betjeman-Stowald
on behalf of
Squire Oswald Betjeman-Stowald
May Twenty-Fourth, Year of Our Lord Eighteen Forty-Four

[Scrawloor]

The Gentleman and The Jartil of Awbor House turned towards the crowd that was now congregating at the entrance to the Harbour Hall. They waited for the entire court of delegates to arrive through the door and Alyse announced,
"My Lords and Ladies of Austoria, we invite you to dine with some of the court. Please take your seats in the appointed places. The other seats will be filled by the Crillos of The Spit and of course my fathers council, they will arrive soon, and any questions about the trade, politics or customs in The Spit will be answered by the lords and ladies that attend. Thank you."
Alyse returned to her father and let the Austorians to find their seats along the table.
Suddenly a voice whispered,
"Sealord, forgive me, there has been a message from a Lord Betjeman-Stowald in Adenia, he has another applicant to be your heir, his second son, Oswald Betjeman-Stowald."
A young servant appeared from the shadows and placed the message into his masters aged hands and then returned to the shadows.

To the Honourable Sealord Awbor,

Your letter reaches me such far-off reaches as Adenia; truly, it is an interesting situation, and a sad testament to the plight of nobility that such things need be done!

The House of Betjeman is one of the oldest in Adenia; present in all walks of life but primarily a family of Government and with a strong seafaring tradition.

Nonetheless, I have heard of Scrawloor in my readings; The Herald has committed the odd article in it's international section, and it seems a thoroughly forward-thinking nation, with proper tradition and custom. I would like to present my son, Oswald James Charles Betjeman-Stowald, as a possible suitor to your daughter. At 15, he is my second son, and therefore second-in-line to my properties in Adenia; as far as properties abroad, I am yet to decide.

My son is due to enter the Royal Nautical Service on his 16th birthday; like his grandfather, he will be destined for a commissioned officership in the Nautical Service and a career of some esteem, most certainly command of a vessel.

Name: Oswald James Charles Betjeman-Stowald
Full Titles: Squire
Noble Blood Y/N: Y
Age: 15
Current Noble House: Betjeman
Father: Lord James Julian Betjeman-Stowald
Mother: Lady Marie Amelia Betjeman-Stowald
Visited Scrawloor Y/N: N
Interests: Polo, sailing, cricket, shooting, hunting with hounds.
Education: Currently attending St Gabriel's College as a day student.
Culture: British (think 20's/30's nobility)
Bio:

Oswald was born at Betjeman House, after a long and difficult pregnancy. Lady Marie very nearly died in his birth, and spent many months recuperating. Oswald, however, defied all expectations, growing to be a strong, strapping lad, with excellent grades and a penchant for horses. Now 15, Oswald shows signs of following his grandfather's, rather than his father's, footsteps onto the ships rather than into politics.

I trust this will proved adequate; please, do not hesitate to correspond by return of post - I shall dispatch this by my own messenger rather than relying on the common post - any return can be dispatched by him.

Humbly,

Lord James Betjeman-Stowald
on behalf of
Squire Oswald Betjeman-Stowald
May Twenty-Fourth, Year of Our Lord Eighteen Forty-Four

Alburn read it and then read it again, quietly excused himself from the group for a few moments and trundled off towards the Sealords Study, to reply.

To The Honourable James,Lord Betjeman-Stowald


I am writing to you to thank you for your letter, concerning the position of my heir. I hereby invite you and your family to The Spit. Squire Oswald will be considered along with another young lordling and we shall see who is a superior candidate.

Yours
Alburn of Awbor House

[Libraria and Ausitoria]

The delegates glided to their seats and sat, commenting affably on the interesting architecture and immediately engaging in a debate on the influences and how it could be best applied to Ausitorian architecture. They were polite enough not to comment about how Ausitorian architecture could best be merged with Scrawloor's. Lord Francis and Sir Albert, both the most senior diplomats, did their best to carefully read the message in the Hon. Sealord Awbor's hands in reverse through the parchment, hoping it had been sent electronically so their aircraft could have picked it up, and carefully scrutinized the Hon. Awbor's face as he read the message twice while continuing to engage in a lengthy discussion over the best possible orders for arches when combined with marble pillars. As was their wants, they generally preferred the Composite order at the top, but immediately disputed the appropriate dimensions. At any rate, when the Sealord departed, they sent a thoroughly 'cloak and dagger' radio signal as they adjusted their cloaks to their aircraft to monitor all traffic in the hopeful event that the reply was electronic. The Whittin-Greys hated not being in the know.

[OOC EDIT: Oops, posted with the wrong nation. Please forgive me.]

[Scrawloor]

Alburn sat at the table and quietly listened to the conversations that occurred on either side of the table. Returning to rubbing his whiskers, he looked at each of the delegates, mentally memorising their individual faces. Suddenly he saw two faces looking at him in earnest, desperate not to show his surprise, the aged Gentleman smiled at them and slipped his right hand under the table and signaled to servants behind him, to keep an eye on the two lords.
But unfortunately the servants did not understand their masters wishes, and Alburn could see it in their faces reflected in the mirrors,failure, so he decided to speak.
"Sir Albert and Lord Francis, I hope you have enjoyed your journey here, perhaps you would like to join me in the study, I have some fine cigars and Applejack given to me by the Empress of Kinlorne herself. We will not be long, it is only up this short stairway and along a corridor."
Alburn slowly stood, watching the duke and nobleman silently as he did so.

[Libraria and Ausitoria]

Sir Albert and Lord Francis started imperceptibly, nodded, rose as one, graciously and gratefully, and with kind murmured apologies and bows begging those beside them to excuse them. Beneath their serene display of perfect manners and mindless pleasantries their minds worked furiously as they considered why exactly Alburn had chosen them. It was true they were invariably the joint-heads of whatever delegation they led, and indeed had been so at Yohannes' recent party - but this Sealord was unusually astute, driving straight to the heart of the delegation. If the Sealord had been an enemy, it would had been careless of them to let themselves both look at the Sealord at the same time and in the same way, they both decided; they had better arrange a rota. They hoped that their earnest looks had not had too much calculation shown upon them. Certainly the Sealord had probably appeared surprised at their penetrating ... glances ... which was peculiar; was not the Sealord used to being studied? And he had seemed to gesture something under the table with his right hand. Where did that fit in? Certainly the Sealord had decided that they had looked at him with unusual vigour and presumably caution - he was hiding something in the hope that they didn't know they were hiding it, and what he was hiding was his caution; because he saw that they were hiding something - i.e. hiding their careful scrutiny.
Sir Albert and Lord Francis drew themselves up to their full heights - and for that matter far beyond their full heights, as both of them were actually a little on the short side, although you would have thought they were much taller - and, making mental preparations if it turned out that the Sealord was not intending to poison them, stab them, or otherwise harm them, they drew themselves up besides Alburn, their faces a mask of innocent curiosity. Although they both reflected simultaneously as they approached that the likelihood of the Sealord planning to kill them was virtually nill. It wasn't as though they were at war, or likely to be at war, or anything of the sort. Too much paranoia, they reflected, as they drew up to Alburn. It would do well for the Sealord to think that he was under a warm dull scrutiny rather than a cold penetrating scrutiny, they decided - it would not do for the Ausitorians to appear Mercenary. For that matter it would not do for them to actually be Mercenary. Neither would it do for him to think that the Ausitorians had noticed his sudden caution or change in manner.
With a studied bow; they prepared to follow his lead, and Sir Albert put on his act. "Thank you, sire," he said, warmly, slightly roguishly - as though they were sharing a joke - preferably the 'we're going to talks politiks now, back to business!11!!' sort of medium-witted politician joke - yet with a respect that was all the more genuine for its sincerity. Sir Albert even managed to keep his normal cynical cold penetrating look out of his eyes, and Lord Francis inclined his head and allowed a mischievous smile to creep around his lips. The Sealord was a capable opponent or ally, whatever level you read him at; and they needed to put on enough show of intelligence to allay his fears and not so much as to make him more so. The Sealord must feel as though he was in charge. A tricky balancing act.

[Scrawloor]

Alburn sensed the eyes on his back as he led the two nobles towards the study, and remembered that his hand signals had not been very discreet. He immediately dropped his hand to his side, and started flailing it around in a controlled fashion. The Sealord continued walking, but glanced sideways at every mirror, to look behind him, at his guests. They had indeed seen this mimicry of a twitching wrist, his plan had worked, but now to strengthen the ploy. And so at a passing serving girl he ordered;
"Margo, get me the cane, the good one. The tremblings have begun again."
With that the girl genuflected, and hurried off to her task.
"You must forgive me, Your Graces. I am an old man, and these things do curse the old. May Age Fall At Your Stern Like A Spring Crash."
They reached the doors and the Knight on duty opened them with the ease and strength of three lesser men. The Sealord entered and let the lordlings take in their surroundings. A long room, paneled and vaulted in the finest white seadar on the Spit and carpeted in a fine warm blue carpet. The walls were mostly covered with ancient portraits of ancestors and seadar book cases with ancient volumes, accumulated over the centuries. At the far end of the room was an enormous semi-circular glass front looking out onto the currently stormy sea. A white marble hearth stood in the middle surrounded by plump armchairs, upholstered in fine blue silk.
"If Your Graces would like to come over to the window and see the realm from the best view possible, even on a rainy day such as this. You may look out onto the trading ships that sit in Madmans Wharf and the five tiered shops that make up Wigtown," with a smile, " a place you'll be interested to know, no longer solely produce hair pieces. You will have Applejack, yes? Of course you will."

[Libraria and Ausitoria]

Reflecting that they should also actually make sure the Sealord was pretty much in command, Sir Albert and Lord Francis nodded, smiled their thanks, and bowed. It would be easy to provide a methanol overdose, and Applejack was a pretty strong drink anyway for an Ausitorian. They would partake of it lightly - and swirl it to allow for evaporation of the lower-surface-tension elements. They observed the harbour and wharfs, nodded with approval at the high buildings - most Alexandrians got very annoyed at low-rise construction. So the Sealord had appeared to demonstrate that his hand was not at his command. There were two possibilities: 1. His hand had moved involuntarily following his slight start of surprise and smile. 2. He was pretending 1. If the former, they should treat it as though it were nothing. If the latter, they should treat it as though it were nothing. How very convenient.
The Sealord certainly knew how to enjoy high living, they reflected. Both vaults and panels in white seadar. The walls were wooden. Possibly an insulation design choice? Yet with none of the brilliant colours common to one Alexandrian school of thought... clearly here was a similar emphasis upon the sea, that is, floor.
"I fear we have brought bad weather, sire," Lord Francis said, studying the sea and the currents studiously. Both Sir Albert and Lord Francis, without noticing it, were gently rocking their bodies as though they were actually at sea. Sir Albert plucked out a naval telescope from within his robe automatically and started to survey the scene closely; and they both expanded and relaxed, as though they were free to come and go with the waves as they pleased.

[The IASM]

To: Who it may consern.
From: The Titianician Senate

Name: Ditor Jack Lazin the 1st.
Full Titles: Supreme Ditor (Demi-god translated) of all of the fatherland, Arch Hegemon of the Hegemony, Professor, lord protector of the Titianician Senate, his supreme exellency
Noble Blood Y/N: Yes
Age: 28 currently
Current Noble House: The House of Lazinium
Father: Diton Edwardious Lazinious
Mother: Unknown.
Visited Scrawloor Y/N: Never.
Interests: Science, art, ruling, history, exploring, touring.
Education: 12 PHDs and A* Alevels in every subject.
Culture: Titianician.
Bio: Read fact book.

[Scrawloor]

(Image)

To: Who it may consern.
From: The Titianician Senate

Name: Ditor Jack Lazin the 1st.
Full Titles: Supreme Ditor (Demi-god translated) of all of the fatherland, Arch Hegemon of the Hegemony, Professor, lord protector of the Titianician Senate, his supreme exellency
Noble Blood Y/N: Yes
Age: 28 currently
Current Noble House: The House of Lazinium
Father: Diton Edwardious Lazinious
Mother: Unknown.
Visited Scrawloor Y/N: Never.
Interests: Science, art, ruling, history, exploring, touring.
Education: 12 PHDs and A* Alevels in every subject.
Culture: Titianician.
Bio: Read fact book.

To: His Supreme Excellency,Supreme Ditor Jack Lazin I
From: Alburn of Awbor, 27th Gentleman of Scrawloor,etc.


In reference to your letter, I must inform you that for you to take control of the Harbour Chair, you must renounce your leadership of both the Hegemony and The IASM. As well as this your age would not be applicable to the marriage to my teenage daughter, this marriage would mean your house would change from House Lazinium to Awbor House.
If there are any other teenage nobles in your country, we would welcome them to participate in vying for the Harbour Chair.

Yours
Alburn of Awbor

[Zyvetskistaahn]

To: Alburn Awbor, Gentleman of Scrawloor
From: Brandt Krenhaar, Lord of the Confederacy

Noble Gentleman of Scrawloor,
I have received your letter and I wish to put forward my son, he is young and brash as was I in my youth but he shall learn.

Should you accept this proposal we shall fly to Scrawloor at once to meet with you.

Name: Craven Krenhaar
Full Titles: Lord of the Confederacy, House of Staahnbern
Noble Blood Y/N: Y
Age: 14
Current Noble House: House of Staahnbern
Father:Brandt Krenhaar
Mother:Morren Krenhaarn
Visited Scrawloor Y/N: N
Interests: Fencing, Riding, Archery, Poetry
Education: Currently enrolled at Staahnbern Military Academy
Culture: Staahnbernen (traditional militaristic, patriotic and so on)
Bio: Born in Staahnbern, Craven has lived mostly in the Zyveten Protectorate before being enrolled in the Staahnbern Military Academy at the age of 12, where his education has been extended beyond conventional subjects to include military tactics, firearms and unarmed combat. A tutor has also been employed to educate him on the politics and laws of the Confederacy.

[Scrawloor]

To: Alburn Awbor, Gentleman of Scrawloor
From: Brandt Krenhaar, Lord of the Confederacy

Noble Gentleman of Scrawloor,
I have received your letter and I wish to put forward my son, he is young and brash as was I in my youth but he shall learn.

Should you accept this proposal we shall fly to Scrawloor at once to meet with you.

Name: Craven Krenhaar
Full Titles: Lord of the Confederacy, House of Staahnbern
Noble Blood Y/N: Y
Age: 14
Current Noble House: House of Staahnbern
Father:Brandt Krenhaar
Mother:Morren Krenhaarn
Visited Scrawloor Y/N: N
Interests: Fencing, Riding, Archery, Poetry
Education: Currently enrolled at Staahnbern Military Academy
Culture: Staahnbernen (traditional militaristic, patriotic and so on)
Bio: Born in Staahnbern, Craven has lived mostly in the Zyveten Protectorate before being enrolled in the Staahnbern Military Academy at the age of 12, where his education has been extended beyond conventional subjects to include military tactics, firearms and unarmed combat. A tutor has also been employed to educate him on the politics and laws of the Confederacy.

To The Honourable Brandt, Lord Krenhaar


I am writing to you to thank you for your letter, concerning the position of my heir. I hereby invite you and your family to The Spit. Master Craven will be considered along with another young lordling and we shall see who is a superior candidate.

Yours
Alburn of Awbor House

[Zyvetskistaahn]

To: Alburn Awbor, Gentleman of Scrawloor
From: Brandt Krenhaar, Lord of the Confederacy

Noble Gentleman of Scrawloor,
I thank you for your consideration of my son, I expect to arrive with him by tomorrow, do forgive me if this proves to be too late.

I look forward to meeting the other who has put his name forward and hope that there shall be no ill feeling as to the one chosen, please pass my regards onto the other and his family prior to my arrival.

[Libraria and Ausitoria]

"If it is not impertinent to ask, Sire, how is Scrawloor proceeding? That is, what are the challenges facing your nation?" Sir Albert asked kindly, paternally, reverently, and yet simultaneously rather grandly; as he shook himself out of his reverie. "It does seem to be such a pleasant place, and indeed I feel it is possible that Ausitoria itself may have something to learn from the wonderfully refreshing atmosphere. How do you create it?" he asked, genuinely personally interested.

[Scrawloor]

"I am afraid, Sir, that I am not the creator of this "atmosphere" as you call it, it has always been this way. We have always lived with a sense of custom, respect, and responsibility while at the same time being eternally jovial. As for problems, we currently have very little. Last year, there was the market in soap fell like a sack of sh.... ahem, yes.
This caused the entire East-Central District of Flintmarket, to become momentarily redundant; The Gettle, that is the master of Gettle House, an ancient house older than mine own, had to sell most of his holdings and titles just to stave off the loansharks. I of course quietly paid most of the arrears on his loans, and Grady was such a gentle-man, I felt bad when he died, stress related I heard."
Alburn looked at the young lords, no longer smiling.
"More brandy, Your Graces? But within a week the entire place was booming again, a self-made millionaire called Alix Arrol, rented the remaining Gettle holdings at an exuberant price, proposed I heard, by Arrol himself and began production of something, I cant rightly remember.
You see, Your Graces, something can happen at anytime but things recover and people recover."