Et Stort Farvel - A Grand Farewell

[Vistulange]

Et Stort Farvel - A Grand Farewell

30 November 2013
08:32 PM, Vistulastad
Innlandet, Vistulange

It was a very active session of the Presidium. All the faces were quite familiar, yet one man was missing: Anton Sokolov. No, Anton Sokolov was dead. He had died due to a stroke suffered the previous morning, while doing something as innocent as retrieving his daily newspapers - the Sannheten and Den Vistulangske Rapporten - along with numerous foreign newspapers. His death was sudden and completely unexpected, as it was rare that any Party member, much less high-ranking Party members, to die of natural causes.

However, the country had to move on. The Presidium would have to appoint a new Chancellor in place of the late Sokolov, in order to keep the government and state running. Minister of Foreign Affairs Tallinn Ström walked up to the podium in the Presidium of the Collectivist Party which had assembled a mere 13 hours after Sokolov's death. The body was being embalmed as they spoke.

"We loved Chancellor Anton Sokolov. He was a worker of the people, working for the people by the appointment of our great Presidium, tirelessly and enthusiastically labouring for the furtherment of our national goals and our people's interests. He was not just a comrade I fought and worked with, but also a personal friend whose relationship I cherished. We all know his accomplishments and his history, so I shall save that speech for the funeral ceremony, but let it be known that a man who had given his all to Vistulange and had asked nothing in return has passed away. We cannot and will not let the memory of this ideal man, of this ideal Party member be forgotten!"

With applause, he stepped down and went back to his seat, sitting down and scratching his whitening beard. The Chairman of the Presidium, Adolf Tverssen, cleared his throat, tapped the microphone infront of him and then spoke with a booming voice.

"According to our laws, the Presidium must appoint a new Chancellor within 24 hours of the predecessor's resignation or otherwise inability to fulfill his responsibilities. Our current candidates are Mr. Tallinn Ström, Ms. Elena Alonso and Mr. Frederik Immonen. As the Chairman of the Presidium of the Collectivist Party of Vistulange, I hereby begin the voting for the appointment of the new Chancellor."

All 600 members of the Presidium jotted down notes onto the small notepads infront of them, tossing them into the suctioning holes right beside their desks. It was done on paper, as digital systems, no matter how secure and protected, could always be hacked into with the right amount of dedication and enough coffee. In ten minutes, the voting had ended and the Chairman cleared his throat once again.

"Out of the 600 Presidium members, 600 have voted. I am reading the outcome now. Mr. Tallinn Ström has recieved 524 votes, Ms. Elena Alonso has recieved 45 votes and Mr. Frederik Immonen has recieved 31 votes. By my authority, vested to me by the Presidium of the Collectivist Party of Vistulange, I hereby appoint Mr. Tallinn Ström as the Chancellor of the Collectivist Republic of Vistulange. Chancellor Ström, you are now authorized to form your own cabinet, declare war with a two-thirds majority of the Presidium, command the Vistulangean Armed Forces and assemble the Presidium whenever you wish.

Newly-appointed Chancellor Ström walked up to the podium once again, looking over to the Presidium members sitting at their desks, watching the 65-year old man with enthusiasm. However, Ström wasn't much for long, droning speeches.

"I will announce my cabinet, my foreign and domestic policy and the other things after we do our duty in the name of the Republic. A man such as Anton Sokolov cannot be permitted to say goodbye to the world without a ceremony. As such, I invite all our recognized allies to attend the ceremony. Chancellor Aleksandre Chavchavadze of Tsmida Eri, Emperor Constantine of Valcouria, Dictatrix Stacy of Stacytopia, Lord Patalius of Patalunia, Prince Koopaman of Greater America, Queen Katia of Katilina and Emprah Karath of Mlytoria are among those who we have formally invited to the Collectivist Republic for the ceremony. That is all."

2 December 2013
10:45 AM, Vistulastad
Innlandet, Vistulange

The sentences defining Sokolov's foreign policy had been engraved on the wall of the Presidium, among the hundreds of words by other prominent Vistulangean leaders since the rise of the Collectivist Party - a full five hundred years. The Presidium building was actually the first and central Collectivist Party building in Vistulange, built back in 1499 as a congress hall in the days of democracy and liberalism. It was living history, right there.

"Chancellor Ström, we are going to recieve the leaders today and tomorrow. Should they be directed to Arendal, to come to Vistulastad by train, or directly to Vistulastad Military Airport?"

Ström looked up from the massive mahogany desk - the desk that had once belonged to Sokolov, his predecessor - and scowled.

"Right to Arendal Military Airport, comrade. If they tell the control towers here in Vistulange that they're headed to Arendal, you won't shoot them down. Actually, now that we're on that subject, call Akershus and Arendal and give those craft clearance before they even arrive, just to make things smoother. However, let me remind you that we do not make exceptions on things such as security. If any foreign vessel or craft crosses into our airspace or water borders without registration at Akershus Citadel without checking in on us first, you are still going to shoot them and destroy them, people and cargo be damned."

"But Chancellor, these are foreign heads of state we are talking about!"

"Yes, but you are going to give them clearance. Besides, they know our rules perfectly. They are coming to Vistulange, and if they are doing so, they will play by our rules. Not that they will be treated badly. All of them are to be treated in the best manner possible, at the airport, on the train, in their suites and during their car rides. No exceptions on that, either. Except for that harlot, Karath. You can give her a decent treatment, just don't give her a proletarian residence. Wouldn't want her to walk around covered in rat dung, she looks horrible enough as it is."

One would expect one of the two men to laugh, but unfortunately, that wasn't the case. There wasn't a drop of sarcasm in Ström's words...he had meant all that he had said. The other man nodded and marched off, probably to give the orders and organize everything...

[Tsmida Eri]

Approaching Vistulangean Airspace

The private jet smoothly glided through the air, all the while being flanked by two PAK FA fighters, staying at a safe, yet not too close distance. The PAK FA then break off and turned towards home, as they saw it unnecessary to escort the jet through Vistulangean Airspace, after all, who would be stupid enough to even try and launch any sort of act in Vistulange? As the craft slowly began to descend towards Vistulange, the pilot radioed the proper authorities. "Attention Arendal Military Airport and Akershus Citadel, this is the private aircraft of the Chancellor of Tsmida Eri, requesting permission to descend into Vistulangean Airspace and land in Arendal, over." The pilot and co-pilot waited for a response, as they slowly broke from the clouds, and the massive island of Vistulange could be seen in all it's greatness and glory.

[Imperia Mlytoria]

Over the seas between Mlytoria and Vistulange...

The sub-orbital vehicle sailed along, essentially freefalling through the air. The operator opened comms and spoke in the native tongue of Vistulange.

"Tower, do you read us? There was a small miscalculation in our trajectory. We're, uhhh... We're coming down within the bounds of the airport, but we're not coming anywhere near a runway. Be advised, we're making an emergency vertical landing near the northwest corner." With that he switched his mic back off and awaited a response.

[Vistulange]

Arendal Military Airport, Arendal Commune
Nordlandet, Vistulange

"Copy, this is Arendal Military Airport recieving the Chancellor's aeroplane. You may cross into Vistulangean airspace and land at Runway L-02. The Chancellor is waiting for you at the airport."

Good, the Tsmidans had arrived. Unfortunately, the infamous Vistulangean winter was in full effect. Massive amounts of snow covered the landscape. Thankfully, the airport was very well taken care of.

Another transmission. This one was in Norwegian, by a Mlytorian craft. Appearantly, things hadn't gone so well.

"Copy, we will get a platoon to your crash site immediately. Do not move around unless necessary, the wildlife is quite dangerous. Confirm copy."

And there were the Mlytorians. Perfect. Two had arrived already. At least they would have plenty of time to get comfortable in Vistulastad.

[Tsmida Eri]

Arendal Military Airport

After the aircraft had received confirmation, it began to descend toward the airstrip. Finally, it slowly touched down on the runway, continuing on along, it slowly began to come to a stop, until finally it was still and calm. The door opened up, and the stairs slowly folded out, and onto the runway. Out of it stepped a single Tsmidan soldier, wearing the typical uniform of the Chancellery Guard, and equipped with a Kar98k with a bayonet on the end. Suddenly, a second guard appeared behind him, and the two marched down the stairs, their bayonets pointing toward the sky. They then reached the bottom oft he stairs, turned to each other, and saluted. The Chancellor then appeared from the aircraft, in his typical militaristic attire, only this time with a trench coat and gloves. He had heard tales of the Vistulangean winter, but for a Tsmidan, the weather was just breezy. Tsmida Eri had it's own frozen winters, and these men were not knew to the cold. The Chancellor slowly descended down the stairs, and passed his guards. The guardsmen then dropped their salute, but still stood at attention, only this time, they faced the direction of the Chancellor. "Wonderful weather we're having, isn't it?" The Chancellor asked, as the winter wind howled around them.

[Imperia Mlytoria]

Somewhere high above Vistulange...

"We copy you, Ardenal." The pilot turned the mic back off having said those simple words.

The throbbing vehicle made its descent, acting as though it were about to shake itself apart. Its pilot muttered in Mlytorian as a formality as he played with the controls, flicking seemingly random switches. "Drogue parachute out..."
A long pause.
"Main parachute out... Secondary parachutes out..."
"How many damnable parachutes does this thing have!?" Karath interrupted with an angry yell. "And why does it need so much air resistance to keep from becoming a metal pancake on contact with the ground!? Just how heavy is it!?"
"Most of them are for our sake, and to get it vertical, miss," the pilot replied. "This thing can probably almost survive whatever huge crater it would make just crashing. Be we can't." After another long pause, he continued: "Side parachutes out..."
A deep metallic groan was heard as the vehicle started to lean to the side and wobble awkwardly.
"Sh-shit..." Karath muttered, putting a hand over her face. "Well, I'm going to die."
The pilot simply continued muttering and fiddling with his controls. "Side parachutes five and six cut..."
The craft slowly stopped its wobble and stood back up straight.
"Vertical landing thrusters on... 20% thrust... 30%... 40%... 50... 60... 70, 80, 90, 100. Landing gear bays open... Shock absorber springs unlocked... Landing gear extended... Aaand, we're landing."

The vehicle finally, and very roughly, slammed its way into the Vistulangean snow somewhere northwest of the airbase. The shock absorbers were compressed to their limits, the springs' coilings pressed completely together. It dug its way deep into the snowy ground and slid along a good distance, before its slideward legs gave out, snapping in two, making it tip over on its "back" -- what would be considered its back were it a standard plane, that is. It was covered underneath and all around by a quite tall drift of snow.

"Well," a bodyguard commented, letting his arms sway upside-down, "we're not taking this back to Mlytoria."
Karath bared her fangs in pure rage. "No one gave you permission to speak."

The pilot opened comms again, speaking in Norweigan once more. "Ardenal Airport, this is the Mlytorian foreign mission. We have landed. We appear to be mostly sunk in a snow drift. All occupants are unharmed from the crash." He pressed a small yellow button, which lit up, before he continued. "We are now emitting a radio noise signal in an attempt to aid your platoon in finding our craft. Do you copy?" The mic clicked back off.

[Vistulange]

Arendal Military Airport

Chancellor Ström walked toward Chancellor Chavchavadze, smiling and offering a hand.

"It is, Chancellor! It gets even better further inland." He had, of course, remembered to take his glove off before offering the hand to Chavchavadze.

Just like his predecessor, Ström was a thin, tall man with graying hair. He had no facial hair, obviously preferring to around shaven.

"We will just have to wait for Emperor Constantine before we head for the train, Chancellor."

However, the jovial air was disturbed by a soldier running up to Ström and whispering something into his air. His expression soured just a bit.

"With Vestfylke? Double-crossing girl. Alright, then. Have Mannerheim announce the ending of all relations, implement a travel ban and embargo, expel all their citizens and liquify all their assets in Vistulange."

The soldier saluted and marched off and entered a black humvee which drove off.

Outside Arendal Military Airport

Six black-clad soldiers trekked through the snow, their rifles held up. Eventually, one spotted the Mlytorian craft and gestured at his comrades.

"Right there. The signal came from here."

They ran to the capsule, surrounding it. Two soldiers moved to find some way to open it, before one just rammed the butt of his rifle against the metal and yelled, his voice muffled by the gas mask he was wearing.

"Open up in there!"

[Imperia Mlytoria]

The door of the Mlytorian sub-orbital craft opened slowly at the hands of its pilot, managing to push the snow out of the way with its swing.

"Gentlemen," the pilot muttered in Norweigan as he hopped atop the belly of the upturned craft.

Four bodyguards quickly made their way out, with Karath and her translator coming up behind them after they'd made a protective buffer around the entrance to the vehicle.

Karath said something in Mlytorian to the translator. The translator, presumably, translated her words as sensibly as possible; "Vistulangean infantry, presumably? I am translator for Karath. Now then, lead the way, if you please."

[Vistulange]

Outside Arendal Military Airport

Six more black clothed soldiers joined the six with the Mlytorian group. A helicopter, a small one, rose from behind the branches.

Appearantly, something had happened, and it wasn't very good. The soldiers suddenly lifted their rifles, aiming at the Mlytorian group. One soldier spoke as the other eleven prepared to fire in the event of resistance.

"Drop your weapons and get down on your knees! Now!"

Of course, it was in Norwegian.

Arendal Military Airport

Suddenly, the airport had become crowded with activity. Black trenchcoated and black gas-masked soldiers had appeared, running to and fro, some boarding APC's, some helicopters. They headed all towards where the Mlytorian group was.

Tallinn looked around, sighing as he explained the situation to Aleksandre.

"I'm afraid that the Mlytorians will have a hard time joining us. It was very foolish of Emprah Karath to think she could fool us like this. By the way, did you know that she just signed an alliance with Vestfylke?"

[Valcouria]

Oblivious to current events, the gargantuan Imperial Air One thundered through the skies, escorted by three Imperial fighters. The Valcourian Emperor and Empress, who were traveling together for the ceremony, had opted to leave the newborn Princess Victoria behind; a funeral was no place for an infant, the Emperor had reasoned.
"Tower 1, this is IAO-1," the pilot reported in, "we are on final approach to Arendal. Request permission to land." For a few moments, there was silence.
"Roger, IAO-1, you have clearance. Fighters must disengage." The IAO pilot gave a slight sigh at the Vistulangean request, but switched his communicator.
"Escorting fighters, return to base."
"Yes, sir," one of them replied, and a moment later all three broke formation and headed in the opposite direction. The giant aircraft continued on its trajectory, and eventually the Vistulangean air force base came into view; the Imperial aircraft slowed and dropped as it came in for a landing.

[Tsmida Eri]

Arendal Military Airport

The Chancellor removed his own glove to shake with Chancellor Ström, and returned the smile. He stood and listened to the Chancellor, who was explaining the situation between Mlytoria and Corumm. His smile faded, and he paused for a moment. He then turned to the guard on his right, and spoke to him in Georgian, the native tongue of Tsmida Eri. The soldier saluted, then ran back inside the aircraft, and up to the cockpit. A few seconds passed, and the soldier returned, and spoke to the Chancellor, in Georgian again. "Good work, soldier." The Chancellor said, and the guard saluted, and went back to his position. "It is a shame the Mlytorians have turned to this course of action, first they make up fabricated stories of 'Tsmidan terrorists', and now they ally with a rogue nation... they'll need to be put in their place one of these days. That slut Karath, she's worse than Chen." Suddenly, the Valcourian aircraft could be seen, coming in for a landing, and the Chancellor removed the thoughts of Corumm and Mlytoria from his head. "Ah, Constantine has arrived, excellent."

[Patalunia]

As the private jet soared ever closer to Vistulange, Patalius reclined in his seat, enjoying one of Patalunia's traditional drinks. It was the first time since... well, since his ascension that he had gotten a break.
One of the jets attendants approached him. "Sir, we're about to enter Vistulangian airspace. Permission to radio in?"
Patalius sighed. "Of course radio in, do you want to be shot down?" 'I swear, they get more and more incompetent.'
As the attendant left, Patalius looked out of his window, getting his first glance at Vistulange.
"Snow" he muttered absentmindedly. "I hate snow."

Meanwhile
"This is the Zambeet One, carrying Patalius of Patalunia, requesting permission to descend and land in Vistulangian airspace. Over."
This was first said in English, then in Norwegian.
The attendant watched as the Pilot transmitted the message, shaking slightly. His holiness seemed... on edge. Hopefully he'd be better once they actually landed.

[Imperia Mlytoria]

Outside Arendal Military Airport...

The four bodyguards lifted their large handguns and took aim. Eight more flooded out of the vehicle and also took their aim.

The pilot quickly pulled the sleeve of his jacket back, revealing a small wristband device, which he pressed a few buttons on. "Our craft will self-destruct in two minutes! Everyone get the fuck back!"

Karath called out, using more or less the full extent of her knowledge of the language of Vistulange: "Stop this madness right now! What's going on!?"

"It seems we're under arrest, miss," the translator whispered to her in Mlytorian.
"What!?" Karath cried out in her native tongue. "Why!? What's the meaning of this madness!?"

Turning toward the small Vistulangean unit, the translator, thinking quickly spoke in Norweigan now. "Gentlemen, the first and foremost duty of these guards is to defend the Emprah. They are not permitted nor trained to surrender. Please, stand down and fire no shots, and I can assure we will do the same. We can be diplomatic about this."

Meanwhile, back in Mlytoria...
Karath -- the real Karath, not a mere look-alike -- listened to this conversation. She sighed and turned to the marshall. "Declare a red alert. Round up all people of Vistulangean birth or blood, but do not have them executed without my orders. Just hold them in the event that relations can somehow go any further south. Beyond that, you are granted autonomy in controlling all military matters at this time. Dismissed."
The marshall saluted. "Aye, Emprah!" He left at a brisk pace.

Just a few short minutes later...
Mlytorian National News Network: Defensive Reaction Against Vistulange
"A statewide red alert has been declared. This is not a drill. All military reserves are to report to their designated posts immediately. In light of the situation with Vistulange, conscription may begin at any moment. All citizenry are advised to stay alert and report any Vistulangean nationals that they see to the police immediately, but otherwise go about their daily lives. Please do not be alarmed by planes overhead; unless otherwise noted, these are Mlytorian interceptors on air superiority missions."

[Vistulange]

Arendal Military Airport

"Zambeet One, this is Arendal Military Airport. You have been granted the clearance to land in Runway L-04. Arendal Tower, out."

The men at the control tower were probably the most comfortable. No guns pointed at them, or any foreign leaders to welcome. Just regulate the airspace.

Tallinn Ström nodded as Aleksandre pointed out the arrival of Emperor Constantine. A soldier rushed up to Ström, pulled his gas mask off and started to speak in rapid Norwegian. Ström listened carefully, nodding every now and then. He gave his orders in English.

"Do not give them an inch. This is our land; as such, they will play by our rules. As for the mobilization of Mlytorian forces, do the same. I will speak at the Presidium with Chancellor Chavchavadze and Emperor Constantine at my side either tomorrow, or the day afterwards to mobilize our forces and possibly pull the red line. Off you go, soldier."

He turned to Chavchavadze, clearing his throat.

"I hate being the one to give you this news, friend, but it appears that Mlytoria is mobilizing. We shall do the same; but I may ask you and Constantine to remain in Vistulange for a bit longer than we had originally planned. The routes to both your homelands pass through hostile airspace, unfortunately. Even now, we have fourteen or sixteen Mlytorians on our home soil, which includes a double of Karath. Ah, there opens the door of Constantine's plane."

Outside Arendal Military Airport

None of the Vistulangeans responded. They merely kept their rifles up, their faces unseen behind their gas masks. Psychological warfare at its best.

The sound of boots crunching through snow made it worse - an entire force of Vistulangeans had arrived. To make things worse, an APC had arrived, as well. There were now a total of thirty professional soldiers - most of them unwittingly at a safe distance from the pod - and a helicopter, as well as an APC. No words were spoken; the Mlytorians had been given their orders. It would not be repeated.

[Tsmida Eri]

Arendal Military Airport

"Damn that Karath... Of course I would happily stay as long as necessary."

The Chancellor slightly bowed, then turned to the guard on his left, and gave him stern orders in Georgian. The guard saluted, and rushed back inside the aircraft, and into the cockpit again.

"I've ordered Corumm to be placed under submarine blockade, to enforce our recent embargo. Now arms shall be delivered to them, not on my watch."

The soldier came out several minutes later, whispered in the Chancellor's ear. The Chancellor responded in Georgian again, the soldier saluted and ran back inside the aircraft, and to the cockpit. Several minutes passed before he came back out, and took his position back.

"And to think I once thought politics was an easy job."

The Chancellor smirked, awaiting the departure of Emperor Constantine from his private aircraft.

[Imperia Mlytoria]

Outside Arendal Military Airport...

"Oh, for the love of Gulaxi!" the Karath imposter yelled in her native tongue. "Put your guns down you idiots! If they want to kill us they'll do it anyway!" The bodyguards instantly did as told, holding their handguns at their sides by the barrel in a fashion that didn't allow them to instantly be fired.

The imposter shoved her translator past the bodyguards, and he put his hands up before the Vistulangean troops. "Tell them this: You want to take us as prisoners or something? Get us in that helicopter and get us out of here, fast! There's no way we can get out of the blast radius of this thing on foot."

The translator hurriedly translated these words. The pilot looked down at his wristband. "And we've only got a minute forty-five or so," he said in Norweigan, smirking crazily and folding his arms. "Not a chance you're disarming it in that time. Tick tock, boys. You're all gonna die!" He defiantly yanked his wristband off and threw it down into the snow. "I can't deactivate it either. Fiddle with the controls all you want, dipshits!"

The Karath imposter raised an eyebrow, along with her hands, as she stepped away from the bodyguards' protection. She muttered to the translator in her native tongue. "I have no idea what he just said, but judging by his tone, I'm sure the idiot hasn't helped at all."
"Oh no, he certainly hasn't, miss," the translator replied in Mlytorian.

[Vistulange]

Outside Arendal Military Airport

The soldiers seemed fairly convinced, thankfully. They hurriedly moved towards the group with their rifles lowered, roughly grabbing them by the arms and dragging them to the APC and the now landed helicopter.

Except the pilot that had gloated. Two soldiers walked up to him, eyed him over and promptly delivered a blow with the butt of a VSR-12 assault rifle. Two more blows came to his kneecaps before he was dumped into the snow, right beside the primed bomb-pod. The two soldiers rushed back to the helicopter, managing to get on board as it lifted off.

The sargeant gave his men orders, not particularly caring if pseudo-Karath or her men heard.

"When we're at the airport, I want all these men and the woman to be strip-searched. Unless we know they are clean, they are not getting within five hundred metres of the delegation. If you meet any resistance, don't bother negotiating. Just warn them once and if they continue, cap them in the head."

[Imperia Mlytoria]

Aboard the Vistulangean vehicle...

"Please, take our pilot too!" the translator yelled in Norweigan. "He's just not very nice under pressure, that's all! Can't you just put him in holding or something until we leave!? He's an ace Mlytorian pilot, a national hero! Please don't--"
The pilot writhed around for a few seconds and pulled himself up on his hands, yelling psychotically in the native tongue of Vistulange, save perhaps the first word.
"Perkele! Fuck you aaaaall!!!" he screamed. The doors closed.
The translator sighed and smacked his palm loudly to his forehead.
The Karath imposter raised an eyebrow. "What does 'perkele' even mean?" she asked.
"No idea. It doesn't even sound like their language."

The two went silent and listened for a moment as the leader of the Vistulangean unit spoke.

"... Well?" the imposter looked over at the translator.
"He said we're going to be strip-searched, miss," the translator muttered to the look-alike Karath, speaking in Mlytorian.
The look-alike folded her arms. "Better than torture, or death, or whatever else Vistulangeans do to their captured."
"Let's just hope diplomacy goes well," the translator retorted. "If not..."
"Shhh, we don't know for sure if they can understand us," the look-alike whispered.

Just then, the bomb went off. The shockwave rocked the vehicle awkwardly and gave everyone a jump, but it survived.

[Valcouria]

After a few minutes, the main door of the Imperial aircraft opened; a staircase was hastily brought over, and a few moments later, after a pair of the Emperor's Guard descended the staircase and came to attention at the base, the Imperial couple appeared and began making their way down to ground level. The Emperor, clad in a red uniform with a blue-and-gold sash, led the Empress across the tarmac to the waiting Vistulangean guards; the two Emperor's Guards formed up behind the couple.
"We are honored to be here," the Emperor said as he and the Empress bowed slightly to the others.

[Vistulange]

Arendal Military Airport
Holding Block D

"Decency" was a word that one would have to forget while in Vistulangean captivity. It was the same with the Mlytorians. After being stripped to their underclothing, they were all thrown into cold stone cells. The Vistulangean winter was in full effect and the cells weren't even protected against the cold, being made of concrete.

One by one, every member of the Mlytorian delegation was taken into a cabin by two black trenchcoated and gas-masked soldiers and thoroughly searched.

Following the search, the twelve bodyguards were given relatively proper clothing and were promptly thrown back into the cells.

"You'll be released if your leader releases all our citizens, Mlytorians. If she decides that our people are more valuable as hostages, you can start praying to whatever floating man in the sky you believe in."

The soldiers waited before the cells, their fingers on the triggers of their rifles, ready to fire. Meanwhile, the translator and pseudo-Karath had been given proper clothing so they could both look formal and not be affected by the harsh cold. One soldier prodded pseudo-Karath with the barrel of his rifle.

"You, woman. Tell us your real name for the Chancellor to addess you as. Despite everything, you're still here for a diplomatic mission."

Airfield Tarmac

"Greetings, Emperor and Empress. It is truly an honor to have you here in Vistulange. Sokolov always wished to meet you in person. However, you might recognize me. I came to Bainbridge, where we spoke for but a few seconds. It must have been...a year or so. Two, perhaps."

With a smile, he offered his hand to Emperor Constantine, then moved to take Empress Lacewing's hand to kiss it.

All they needed now was Patalius, and then they could move to the train. From there, it was a warm five hours, a luxurious train ride with perfect scenery. Tourists would have loved the concept.

[Imperia Mlytoria]

"... I think they know, miss. They're asking to what your real name is. It seems they're still aiming for diplomacy in spite of all this, though."
"What? Know wha-... Oh."

The look-alike looked up at the soldier and again strained her Norweigan to its limits with a simple sentence: "I am... Djaulghaito."
She turned to look at her translator again, and spoke in Mlytorian. "And I'm sure everyone in the land will pronounce that so badly I won't even realize when they want my attention, so when they inevitably start, tell them to say whatever it translates literally as in their language."
The translator sensibly censored the understandably angry woman in his translation. "... If anyone should have trouble saying that, they may call her 'Firedancer,' that is the literal translation of her name."

As the soldier left, Djaulghaito's translator turned to her, and they spoke in their native tongue once more. "Oh, and they said we'll be released when the Emprah releases all of their citizens."
"Well shit, I've got no need to hear that," she replied. "I can't tell the Emprah about this at least until we're back home. I mean, I didn't even know the Vistulangeans were, er, ... not released. Being imprisoned, rather. Though it stands to reason now that they mention it."
"I'm sure they'll inform her of this deal of theirs soon, miss," the translator assured. "And I'm sure she'll accept."
"And if she doesn't?"
"Well... Um..." The translator took a long, uncomfortable pause. "Look on the bright side: it's not the worst possible outcome of all this. I mean, they can't possibly do anything anywhere near as bad as what Karath would do to us for failure."
"... True," Djaulghaito said. "Very true."

[Patalunia]

As the Zambeet One finally landed on the tarmac, Patalius was getting ready for his entrance, donning his imperial robes (made of authentic Zambeet fur).
Once the jet came to a full stop, the door opened up, letting in a blast of frigid air, making Patalius shiver very slightly. 'Why did it have to be someplace so cold? Well, at least I have these robes to keep me warmer.'
Patalius stepped down from his jet, followed closely by his guards. He took a quick look around, smiled, and stated "It is an honor to finally set foot in this glorious nation."

[Valcouria]

The Emperor cracked a faint smile at the ambassador's words, then nodded once.
"How could We forget?" he replied, watching as the Empress let the diplomat kiss her hand. "Although it is a shame that we meet again under such dismal circumstances." He glanced nearby to see the Patalunian aircraft approaching.

[Vistulange]

Arendal Military Airport
Airfield Tarmac

Smiling as Lord-Emperor Patalius approached the group, Ström also offered the man a hand. At least he was warmer a person than his aged predecessor.

"We are honored to have you here, Lord Patalius. Now, I think that we can get to our train. Ah, there's the imposter that Karath sent us."

The soldiers were escorting Firedancer and her translator. Ström scowled and gave orders in his fluid Norwegian.

"The man belongs in the cells, just like the others. A Vistulangean translator will be found. Take him away."

His expression then mellowed, gesturing to a large gate that presumably led to a garage or hallway of sorts. Firedancer was always escorted by two black clothed soldiers, several meters behind the group as they walked to the train station.

"I wish I could do something about the climate, friends, but I am afraid I cannot. The train will be much warmer, though."

[Tsmida Eri]

Arendal Military Airport

The Chancellor walked with the other leaders, the Vistulangean guards, and the Karath imposter to the train station. He had instructed his personal guards to protect the plane. The good thing about Vistulange was that it was safe, and letting your guard down would be easy in such a highly secure nation. Despite their tendency to use whatever means necessary to win, and of course their secularism, the Vistulangeans weren't such a bad people, and were considered my sensible and tolerable compared to more ignorant peoples in the world. As the group walked towards the train, the Chancellor spoke to his foreign counter-parts.

"Constantine, Lacewing, excellent to see you both again. I trust everything goes well in your realm?"

The Chancellor then turned his attention to the other foreign head-of-state.

"And, Emperor Patalius, I presume? Nice to finally meet your acquaintance. I'm sure you already know, I am Chancellor Aleksandre Chavchavadze of Tsmida Eri."

He said, trying to avoid using the Monarch's official title of "God-Emperor", as it irritated him to even think of a mortal claiming divinity.