Dragon's Masquerade(MT|IC)

[The Selkie]

"Assad said to say 'hi' as well, if I ever saw you again and he's convinced we're not going to be together for a while--not until my birthday, I guess, but even then, he doesn't know if he'll be able to make it. He's doing his best right now--I'm not. I'm still a mess. I've . . . been having a lot of nightmares lately. Don't know why my subconscious thinks you're going to leave, or get hurt, or something else, but . . . I don't know. Dreams are weird, I guess."

Fiona pulled him closer, softly stroking his back and smiling comfortingly.
"You are doing your best, Karak.", she whispered to him, "You are here, you are with me... and that means, that you doing your best... and you'll not get rid of me that easily." She grinned into his ear, kissing him on the cheek and looking into his eyes a moment later, her smile fading. "Believe it or not, but I've been afraid about you, too..."

[Krugeristan]

"Assad said to say 'hi' as well, if I ever saw you again and he's convinced we're not going to be together for a while--not until my birthday, I guess, but even then, he doesn't know if he'll be able to make it. He's doing his best right now--I'm not. I'm still a mess. I've . . . been having a lot of nightmares lately. Don't know why my subconscious thinks you're going to leave, or get hurt, or something else, but . . . I don't know. Dreams are weird, I guess."

Fiona pulled him closer, softly stroking his back and smiling comfortingly.
"You are doing your best, Karak.", she whispered to him, "You are here, you are with me... and that means, that you doing your best... and you'll not get rid of me that easily." She grinned into his ear, kissing him on the cheek and looking into his eyes a moment later, her smile fading. "Believe it or not, but I've been afraid about you, too..."

Golahman wasn't sure whether to smile or be surprised. "Really? I . . . How come?" He now smiled weakly. "Dreams as well? A rumor?"

[The Selkie]

Golahman wasn't sure whether to smile or be surprised. "Really? I . . . How come?" He now smiled weakly. "Dreams as well? A rumor?"

"Dreams.", Fiona said, taking a breath. She promised herself to be honest with herself and him in this relationship and she would do it. "It was you collapsing because you were malnourished or assassinated Calib knows where or dying in a war... one was even you suffocating under a mountain of cats..."

[Krugeristan]

Golahman wasn't sure whether to smile or be surprised. "Really? I . . . How come?" He now smiled weakly. "Dreams as well? A rumor?"

"Dreams.", Fiona said, taking a breath. She promised herself to be honest with herself and him in this relationship and she would do it. "It was you collapsing because you were malnourished or assassinated Calib knows where or dying in a war... one was even you suffocating under a mountain of cats..."

Now Golahman smiled. "A mountain of cats? I wonder if that's possible . . . I won't find out, don't worry. I don't have that many cats, and I won't, I promise." He was quiet for a minute. "I have been trying to work on getting more nutrition. At least I still have a lot of leftovers from the Christmas party. There's one benefit to that, I guess."

[Criska]

Throne Room

The room, unlike the foyer, was nearly as silent as a tomb, or crypt. Ten men of the Royal Gaurd stood in the open, adorned in the plates that were spread uniformly throughout the palace. Four of them, two on either side of the doorway facing inward, and two on either side of the currently unoccupied throne were armed with halberds, two had the heraldry of Aria on banners; a blue dragon in front of a moon on a diagonally split banner; the bottom half a uniform black, and the top half a series of red and black lines.

Aria was in the far side of the room, practicing, trying to perfect, to the slow movements that Serik, and more recently Luna, had taught her to do, “to keep your mind clear and focused”, as both of them said, her rapier drawn. She barely registered Peter enter, but the sound made her quickly sheathed her blade, the blade singing as it was pushed into the leather.

Maxim tilted his head quizzically as the man entered and offered his hand. “I do not outrank the Empress. I am simply serving in her stead until she wishes otherwise.” He didn’t know how to respond to what the man said; did he mean it as compliment? Should he take it as an insult? He had no inkling as to which was meant.

Aria didn’t say anything, but slowly approached, her stance taking similar to that of Luna’s, her hand unconsciously resting on the hilt of the rapier. Such was the price of practicing with a blade for long hours, but it was also one of the only reasons she hadn’t completely lost herself in the stress and grief that had followed the death of her uncle.

Main Foyer

Serik couldn’t have said he didn’t watch her hips swing for a few moments before catching up to her and hooking his arm with her’s. “What is their to tell?” He looked around slightly, before answering his own question. “My Oathbound, are as their name describes. We do not make contracts, we make verbal oaths to those who hire us. Paper can be ripped, torn, but an oath taken is never forgotten or lost.” He said it with a certain amount of pride that was hard not to notice, as well as stark seriousness. “We are two-thousand strong if you are interested in numbers, and I recruited them personally if you wanted to know the selection process. What are things like in the Selkie though, how do your warriors fight?”



Lukas continued to smile. “At least someone has been able to watch over her in my absence. I hope Maxim...The Lord Protector, will let me return soon. I never thought that being on leave when my...other daughter...was about to become the ruler would be this painful, but my relationship with her mother was cold at the best of times.” There was a slight grimace on his face, only for a moment, before the smile was back on his face. “Part of me wants it to be later so I know I will be back, and part of me hopes it is soon so I can the child sooner…”

Crisk International Airport

Luna turned away from them respectively. “We should be going. I am somewhat doubting that the aristocracy will have the patience to wait very long. They are good and drinking, eating, and rumor-mongering, and not much else.”

Maerfore gave one of his rare laughs then, grinning. “That is something I can agree with.” In moment, however, the brief sign of a fire beneath was replaced with a cold visage and even icier stare. A limo pulled up in front of them, and Luna opened the door. She nodded for them to enter and gave Maerfore a colder look than he had been giving the Pacificorans when he wasn’t looking.

[The Selkie]

Now Golahman smiled. "A mountain of cats? I wonder if that's possible . . . I won't find out, don't worry. I don't have that many cats, and I won't, I promise." He was quiet for a minute. "I have been trying to work on getting more nutrition. At least I still have a lot of leftovers from the Christmas party. There's one benefit to that, I guess."

A few of her fears lightened, Fiona let a smile blossom on her face, bringing her forehead to his.
"That's good to hear.", she whispered to him, closing her eyes and drawing in air through her nose - she smelled him and she was quite sure, that she smelled her, too... the skin lotion, herbal, made from herbs collected by the Sacred Grove she shoved to him, her shampoo, a soft, sweet scent of apples. "Mom said, that you are always welcome in Leas House and Mister Crionna said, that he will kick anyone, who wants to drag you to Fortham again, now that the Formalities are done with." She smiled at him, opening her eyes. "And I want you there, too."

Throne Room

The room, unlike the foyer, was nearly as silent as a tomb, or crypt. Ten men of the Royal Gaurd stood in the open, adorned in the plates that were spread uniformly throughout the palace. Four of them, two on either side of the doorway facing inward, and two on either side of the currently unoccupied throne were armed with halberds, two had the heraldry of Aria on banners; a blue dragon in front of a moon on a diagonally split banner; the bottom half a uniform black, and the top half a series of red and black lines.

Aria was in the far side of the room, practicing, trying to perfect, to the slow movements that Serik, and more recently Luna, had taught her to do, “to keep your mind clear and focused”, as both of them said, her rapier drawn. She barely registered the other man enter, but the sound made her quickly sheathed her blade, the blade singing as it was pushed into the leather.

Maxim tilted his head quizzically as the man entered and offered his hand. “I do not outrank the Empress. I am simply serving in her stead until she wishes otherwise.” He didn’t know how to respond to what the man said; did he mean it as compliment? Should he take it as an insult? He had no inkling as to which was meant.

Aria didn’t say anything, but slowly approached, her stance taking similar to that of Luna’s, her hand unconsciously resting on the hilt of the rapier. Such was the price of practicing with a blade for long hours, but it was also one of the only reasons she hadn’t completely lost herself in the stress and grief that had followed the death of her uncle.

Main Foyer

Serik couldn’t have said he didn’t watch her hips swing for a few moments before catching up to her and hooking his arm with her’s. “What is their to tell?” He looked around slightly, before answering his own question. “My Oathbound, are as their name describes. We do not make contracts, we make verbal oaths to those who hire us. Paper can be ripped, torn, but an oath taken is never forgotten or lost.” He said it with a certain amount of pride that was hard not to notice, as well as stark seriousness. “We are two-thousand strong if you are interested in numbers, and I recruited them personally if you wanted to know the selection process. What are things like in the Selkie though, how do your warriors fight?”



Lukas continued to smile. “At least someone has been able to watch over her in my absence. I hope Maxim...The Lord Protector, will let me return soon. I never thought that being on leave when my...other daughter...was about to become the ruler would be this painful, but my relationship with her mother was cold at the best of times.” There was a slight grimace on his face, only for a moment, before the smile was back on his face. “Part of me wants it to be later so I know I will be back, and part of me hopes it is soon so I can the child sooner…”

Crisk International Airport

Luna turned away from them respectively. “We should be going. I am somewhat doubting that the aristocracy will have the patience to wait very long. They are good and drinking, eating, and rumor-mongering, and not much else.”

Maerfore gave one of his rare laughs then, grinning. “That is something I can agree with.” In moment, however, the brief sign of a fire beneath was replaced with a cold visage and even icier stare. A limo pulled up in front of them, and Luna opened the door. She nodded for them to enter and gave Maerfore a colder look than he had been giving the Pacificorans when he wasn’t looking.

"Our Marcach?", Mairin asked with a small smile, "Like the warriors of the old, with bow and lance and sword... however, no one expects them to face an enemy somewhere else then a sports field." There was a glint her eyes, making them sparkle as if they were sapphires. "What you most likely mean are our soldiers. For specifics, I can get you in touch with the Supreme Command or the SDF-Army General Command, but I can tell you, that they do not fight individually, but as a group, a section, like a hand, armed with the most modern arms and equipment available, produced for their specific needs and requirements. Trained as professional soldiers, equipped as the same and a force to be reckogned with... that's the SDF-Army. The SDF-Navy is the same, only on the sea." She gave him a sidelong glance. "What I am interested in more, though, what are the specific capabilities and strengths of the Oathbound?"

Gwen smiled and took his hand. "You are with us in spirit and our hearts. It's not the ideal solution, but its a good one. And when the worst comes to the worst, there's a whole shipwright company, by now specialized in military shipbuilding and having the corresponding equipment on hand, ready to defend Mom... not to mention Gabha. Some..." She glanced towards the Krugeristani Delegation, remembering a long talk she had with Vershenov a long tome ago. "...are not in favour of it, but to be quite honest..." She leaned forward, whispering into his ear. "...they can suck on a Pin Mouse's pins!"

[Krugeristan]

Now Golahman smiled. "A mountain of cats? I wonder if that's possible . . . I won't find out, don't worry. I don't have that many cats, and I won't, I promise." He was quiet for a minute. "I have been trying to work on getting more nutrition. At least I still have a lot of leftovers from the Christmas party. There's one benefit to that, I guess."

A few of her fears lightened, Fiona let a smile blossom on her face, bringing her forehead to his.
"That's good to hear.", she whispered to him, closing her eyes and drawing in air through her nose - she smelled him and she was quite sure, that she smelled her, too... the skin lotion, herbal, made from herbs collected by the Sacred Grove she shoved to him, her shampoo, a soft, sweet scent of apples. "Mom said, that you are always welcome in Leas House and Mister Crionna said, that he will kick anyone, who wants to drag you to Fortham again, now that the Formalities are done with." She smiled at him, opening her eyes. "And I want you there, too."

"I want the same," Golahman said. God, is it too soon? "But . . . I have a job, and, yes, I wish . . . you could be in Krugeristan with me, and, be in my life, my home, and experience everything Krugeristan has to offer . . . but . . . I don't know. It's very soon, I think." He turned a faint shade of red. "Assad would be kicking me in the butt right now, telling me to just say 'I love you'."

[Criska]

Main Foyer

Serik smiled at the question. It wasn't as often as one would have expected that he questioned about his own groups military capabilities, except in comparison to others. "My forces are more then capable melee combatants," he slightly pulled his bikan from it's scabbard for emphasis, "we do not wear these without a reason, and my people specifically, the Oathbound are trained in the harshest conditions I can get them into. Cold mountains in dense forest, plenty of wildlife that enjoys human flesh." He paused. "I earned the fur I wear from doing the training I put them through myself."

He paused again. "We are infantry, all, and it may sound like boasting, but we damned good at what we do. The Iron Guard regiments, the Oathbound, the Black Wardens, the Brass Legion, we are all a good soldiers on the ground. Our sea forces and air forces are...shall we lacking...in almost all regards, but they are only present at home, and we have done all we canto prevent people from being ticked at us, and don't have much in the way of resources..."



The Major grinned wildly. "Everyone has their own mannerisms. Unfortunately, mine has been spending time with too many wrong woman, and not enough of the good type. People like Nora, and Tyrea when she was alive..." He trailed off, and shook his head, a look of fatherly concern on his face. "No one has ever told her you know? She has no idea, and I have never been able to tell her myself. So much of her mother in her, it is a shame that she doesn't look like her uncle, or her mother, and got my genes..." He looked at the ground, but didn't say anything. He was just happy that Vyrin hadn't arrived yet, or that the nobility hadn't seemed to notice Aria's differnce compared to her mother.

Speak of the devil...I jinxed it. Vyrin Dolor, and an annoyed looking Zarrek Andrastia entered the Foyer. Zarrek insantly headed for the designated drink area, trying to distance himself, and Vyrin was showing off the scars the war dog had given him at the Banquet of Masks. He,like most of the nobility wore a rapier, but he was not in military uniform, preferring to show off his musculature with a buttoned up white dress short that had it's sleeves rolled up, and black dress pants. Damn it.

[Krugeristan]

Main Foyer

Speak of the devil...I jinxed it. Vyrin Dolor, and an annoyed looking Zarrek Andrastia entered the Foyer. Zarrek insantly headed for the designated drink area, trying to distance himself, and Vyrin was showing off the scars the war dog had given him at the Banquet of Masks. He,like most of the nobility wore a rapier, but he was not in military uniform, preferring to show off his musculature with a buttoned up white dress short that had it's sleeves rolled up, and black dress pants. Damn it.

At this time, Vershenov was wiping his bayonet on his pants, and a rush of adrenaline shot through him upon seeing the man that he had been congratulated on nearly mauling. I still think I should've ordered Lizzie to kill him. She's more than capable, I've seen what she does to ISIS men when she drags them out of their dens. He screwed the bayonet back on his rifle, giving a silent check to the bolt. There was a loaded bullet, but only he and Golahman knew that.

The "piece of fecal scum", as Vershenov deemed Vyrin Dolor earlier, was baring all the scars Lizzie gave him months ago. Less than honorable, Vershenov thought, and hideous, too. It's a wonder they didn't get infected.

Unlike dog teeth, if Vershenov ever had to use the bayonet, those wounds wouldn't heal any time soon. Krugeristan was probably the only country that had triple-edged bayonets in service. Dear God, I don't want to use this thing. I will if he hurts Golahman or Fiona or any of Fiona's compatriots.

[The Siberian Empire]

As Maxim replied he caught glimpse of the Empress aproaching from the far side of the room. The apparent love of swords and swordplay that these people share intrigued him and reminded him of what Alexander told him of the Siberian Imperial court, and how all the boys in his family were forced learn swordplay and other forms of cambat. But her practice seemed to be one of genuine interest."Of course sir." Said Peter. He noticed Maxin's puzzeled look on his face."I only meant that not just anyone is given such a role. I take it you are close to the family?"

[Criska]

As Maxim replied he caught glimpse of the Empress aproaching from the far side of the room. The apparent love of swords and swordplay that these people share intrigued him and reminded him of what Alexander told him of the Siberian Imperial court, and how all the boys in his family were forced learn swordplay and other forms of cambat. But her practice seemed to be one of genuine interest."Of course sir." Said Peter. He noticed Maxin's puzzeled look on his face."I only meant that not just anyone is given such a role. I take it you are close to the family?"

Throne Room

"Close would be an understatement." It was Aria who spoke, a combination of elegance, softness, and a certain degree of grim acceptance, but she didn't say anything else. Maxim only gave an almost awkward grin.

"I was, simply put, Emperor Derrick's right hand. Where he went I followed, and where I went, he made he sure he could stay in contact. Friends wouldn't cover the relationship I had with him, and the trust he put in me to defend his only heir. I only wish that I had been able to save the other member of his family, but, the past is the past now." He smirked. "it has occurred to me that we have not been formally introduced, sir. Lord Protector Maxim Omare,at your service," He gave the Crisk form of a salute out of old habit; his fist going over heart, with a nod.

Aria gave a formal curtsy. "Aria Oktarian,"

[The Siberian Empire]

As Maxim replied he caught glimpse of the Empress aproaching from the far side of the room. The apparent love of swords and swordplay that these people share intrigued him and reminded him of what Alexander told him of the Siberian Imperial court, and how all the boys in his family were forced learn swordplay and other forms of cambat. But her practice seemed to be one of genuine interest."Of course sir." Said Peter. He noticed Maxin's puzzeled look on his face."I only meant that not just anyone is given such a role. I take it you are close to the family?"

Throne Room

"Close would be an understatement." It was Aria who spoke, a combination of elegance, softness, and a certain degree of grim acceptance, but she didn't say anything else. Maxim only gave an almost awkward grin.

"I was, simply put, Emperor Derrick's right hand. Where he went I followed, and where I went, he made he sure he could stay in contact. Friends wouldn't cover the relationship I had with him, and the trust he put in me to defend his only heir. I only wish that I had been able to save the other member of his family, but, the past is the past now." He smirked. "it has occurred to me that we have not been formally introduced, sir. Lord Protector Maxim Omare,at your service," He gave the Crisk form of a salute out of old habit; his fist going over heart, with a nod.

Aria gave a formal curtsy. "Aria Oktarian,"

My Lord... My lady. Said Peter as gave a slight bow to each of them. " I am Peter Romanov, my dearest brother in law sends his deepest sympathies in wake or your recent loss and apologizes for not attending himself, but things at home are... complicated to say the least." Peter felt a deep anger come over himself as he said this. He knew for a fact that Alexander didn't give a damn. He clenched the hilt of his sword tightly as he continued. "Many at court, including my self. Would love nothing more than to see our two nations become great friends. In fact the two men who have accompanied me here are very interested in establishing relations one of them in particular is very enthusiastic."

[The Selkie]

"I want the same," Golahman said. God, is it too soon? "But . . . I have a job, and, yes, I wish . . . you could be in Krugeristan with me, and, be in my life, my home, and experience everything Krugeristan has to offer . . . but . . . I don't know. It's very soon, I think." He turned a faint shade of red. "Assad would be kicking me in the butt right now, telling me to just say 'I love you'."

Fiona smiled sadly, well aware of the close relationship her boyfriend and his best friend shared.
"Then let me say it.", she whispered to him, "Tá mé i ngrá leat... I love you."
She made a small pause.
"But I can't leave Gabha, not at this point in time.", she whispered to him, sadness in her voice, "It is a long story, but to make it short, your request for aid to Assad threw a lot of people into a frenzy, especially at the Merchant Guild. This is my first night without business calls and stuff in three months..." She breathed out. "Mom uses me as her runner, while she holds down the fort in Traverse. And believe me, we are besieged."

Main Foyer

Serik smiled at the question. It wasn't as often as one would have expected that he questioned about his own groups military capabilities, except in comparison to others. "My forces are more then capable melee combatants," he slightly pulled his bikan from it's scabbard for emphasis, "we do not wear these without a reason, and my people specifically, the Oathbound are trained in the harshest conditions I can get them into. Cold mountains in dense forest, plenty of wildlife that enjoys human flesh." He paused. "I earned the fur I wear from doing the training I put them through myself."

He paused again. "We are infantry, all, and it may sound like boasting, but we damned good at what we do. The Iron Guard regiments, the Oathbound, the Black Wardens, the Brass Legion, we are all a good soldiers on the ground. Our sea forces and air forces are...shall we lacking...in almost all regards, but they are only present at home, and we have done all we canto prevent people from being ticked at us, and don't have much in the way of resources..."



The Major grinned wildly. "Everyone has their own mannerisms. Unfortunately, mine has been spending time with too many wrong woman, and not enough of the good type. People like Nora, and Tyrea when she was alive..." He trailed off, and shook his head, a look of fatherly concern on his face. "No one has ever told her you know? She has no idea, and I have never been able to tell her myself. So much of her mother in her, it is a shame that she doesn't look like her uncle, or her mother, and got my genes..." He looked at the ground, but didn't say anything. He was just happy that Vyrin hadn't arrived yet, or that the nobility hadn't seemed to notice Aria's differnce compared to her mother.

Speak of the devil...I jinxed it. Vyrin Dolor, and an annoyed looking Zarrek Andrastia entered the Foyer. Zarrek insantly headed for the designated drink area, trying to distance himself, and Vyrin was showing off the scars the war dog had given him at the Banquet of Masks. He,like most of the nobility wore a rapier, but he was not in military uniform, preferring to show off his musculature with a buttoned up white dress short that had it's sleeves rolled up, and black dress pants. Damn it.

Mairin raised an eyebrow, keeping her thoughts to herself: Excelling at melee combat, when the opponent can kill you at two miles before you even know, that he is there, is a good capability... but don't worry, we will have a use for you. If everything else fails...
"If your navy needs anything seagoing, then you can always ask Miss Cathlong." She motioned to where the good-looking black-haired woman was talking to a Criskan. "She represents Silverport Dockyards Limited and they do have an excellent lineup of products, being chief supplier of the SDF-Navy." She made a small pause. "It is her, and a few other people, who might be interested in your services as well. Foreign production facilities do need protection from various sources after all."

Gwen squeezed his hand. "Don't worry. It'll all work out.", she told him, watching two men enter.
One was heavily scarred, the other immediately went to the bar.
Gwen knew, who the two of them were. Her mother had told her about the incident with the dog and her aunt Gwen, Fiona's mother, had told her about her dance as well. She withheld her enthusiasm, though, judging Dolor, who proudly showed off his hideous scars, as an idiot.
From what Vershenov did, she was quite sure, that she wasn't alone.
"Do not look at him.", Gwen recommended with a smile, bringing Lukas' eyes onto her.

Meanwhile, at the Bar, Celina was feeling a bit lonely, nursing an apple juice by her lonesome.
She was available for talking and available for business talking - after all, she was here for the Merchant Guild.

[Pacificora]

Throne Room

The room, unlike the foyer, was nearly as silent as a tomb, or crypt. Ten men of the Royal Gaurd stood in the open, adorned in the plates that were spread uniformly throughout the palace. Four of them, two on either side of the doorway facing inward, and two on either side of the currently unoccupied throne were armed with halberds, two had the heraldry of Aria on banners; a blue dragon in front of a moon on a diagonally split banner; the bottom half a uniform black, and the top half a series of red and black lines.

Aria was in the far side of the room, practicing, trying to perfect, to the slow movements that Serik, and more recently Luna, had taught her to do, “to keep your mind clear and focused”, as both of them said, her rapier drawn. She barely registered Peter enter, but the sound made her quickly sheathed her blade, the blade singing as it was pushed into the leather.

Maxim tilted his head quizzically as the man entered and offered his hand. “I do not outrank the Empress. I am simply serving in her stead until she wishes otherwise.” He didn’t know how to respond to what the man said; did he mean it as compliment? Should he take it as an insult? He had no inkling as to which was meant.

Aria didn’t say anything, but slowly approached, her stance taking similar to that of Luna’s, her hand unconsciously resting on the hilt of the rapier. Such was the price of practicing with a blade for long hours, but it was also one of the only reasons she hadn’t completely lost herself in the stress and grief that had followed the death of her uncle.

Main Foyer

Serik couldn’t have said he didn’t watch her hips swing for a few moments before catching up to her and hooking his arm with her’s. “What is their to tell?” He looked around slightly, before answering his own question. “My Oathbound, are as their name describes. We do not make contracts, we make verbal oaths to those who hire us. Paper can be ripped, torn, but an oath taken is never forgotten or lost.” He said it with a certain amount of pride that was hard not to notice, as well as stark seriousness. “We are two-thousand strong if you are interested in numbers, and I recruited them personally if you wanted to know the selection process. What are things like in the Selkie though, how do your warriors fight?”



Lukas continued to smile. “At least someone has been able to watch over her in my absence. I hope Maxim...The Lord Protector, will let me return soon. I never thought that being on leave when my...other daughter...was about to become the ruler would be this painful, but my relationship with her mother was cold at the best of times.” There was a slight grimace on his face, only for a moment, before the smile was back on his face. “Part of me wants it to be later so I know I will be back, and part of me hopes it is soon so I can the child sooner…”

Crisk International Airport

Luna turned away from them respectively. “We should be going. I am somewhat doubting that the aristocracy will have the patience to wait very long. They are good and drinking, eating, and rumor-mongering, and not much else.”

Maerfore gave one of his rare laughs then, grinning. “That is something I can agree with.” In moment, however, the brief sign of a fire beneath was replaced with a cold visage and even icier stare. A limo pulled up in front of them, and Luna opened the door. She nodded for them to enter and gave Maerfore a colder look than he had been giving the Pacificorans when he wasn’t looking.

Xari sat in the limousine a slightly uncomfortable posture during a rather awkward ride towards the renovated imperial palace. Xari only felt increasingly uncomfortable with Maerfore's glare slowly moving around the Pacifican crowd. President Farania was in deep conversation with Luna over cultural and foreign affairs, and the Ambassador and Minister Galar, his father, were going on and on about more Crisk etiquette. That left Grand Commander Vilaro, who Xari had never really gotten on with, as they were on opposing sides in the Crisk war debate. For the entire ride, Xari was forced to turn to the window for a distraction, looking at the buildings as they zipped past.

She was still in the back of his head, especially when he was having to fight to try and think of something else's to fill his head with. He had to remain strong, to remain both formal and cordial, to attempt a more nuetral stance in this whole Crisk-Pacifican problem.

As the limousine approached the palace, Xari had flashes of memory from what ad happened there all those years ago, of what had happened in that particular park, in that particular staircase, and what had happened on the roof, the place that had begun the pre-war standoff, the event that ultimately led to thousands and thousands losing their lives for a pointless war.

The limousine pulled up to the entrance, and the flashes only continued to become more vibrant and accurate. This was it, this was going to be either a challenge or a blessing. He would have to attempt to hide himself away like all those dragons in Pacifican lore, but in the public eye constantly, like a masquerade. A Dragon's Masquerade.

[Criska]

Throne Room

Maxim nodded, Aria made no movement. “It is, refreshing, to hear that someone wishes to do business with us, to often it has been business at us if you catch my meaning. I would be happy to meet with this eager representative following the ceremony, Peter. Aria will likely want some time to herself,” Aria nodded in approval, “and I will likely have no other business to take care of, or otherwise, if it is more convenient for you, and your own, we can conduct schedule it for another day, night, or morning.”

Aria began to take steps away. She was going to avoid political business for as long as she could. She needed time before she would even try to sit on these meetings, like she had sat in on her uncle’s. It was the business her uncle, and his court to deal with, never her own. She didn’t realize that it was her court now.

Main Foyer

Vyrin caught Vershenov’s eyes as he walked towards a Crisk woman in a black, glimmering dress. He grinned slyly, as if trying to say ‘You can try again if you want. It won’t end the same.’ He didn’t break the gaze until he was upon the woman he was going to talk to, the merciless, sly, prideful, and narcissistic grin never leaving his face.



Zarrek sat down at the bar next to a unmasked woman he didn’t recognize, only that it was a Selkie. He ordered a small glass of cider himself, and stared at his drink for several moments, swishing it back and forth in the glass absentmindedly. He didn’t say anything, but he was hard not to tell he was irritated by something. A small smile came across his face as his phone gave off a quiet buzz. He checked the message, setting the cider on the counter, and his smile grew. It was a simple message from his daughter.

‘We’re on our way : )’

His face seemed to relax until he put the phone back in his pocket, his midn dwelling on the day he already had. Vyrin is hopeless. No way he will ever learn. One could only spend so much of a day with most of the Dolor family, and Vyrin was particularly bad.



Serik shook his head. “Unless you have ammunition, or better rifles than the Crisk have to offer, I won’t be of much use to you. I do not have the authority of the Council with me, and even the Council might be hesitant to do anything in regards to improving the armed forces at home.”

“They are traditionalists there, and they belief that if anyone invades they will be able to simply retreat back into the forests and mountains, away from the cities, and survive as we have, hunting in the wilds and begin our lives anew. Clear new lands, or move to the caves and survive off of the fungi and wild beasts in the area.” He looked at Waari before he said anything else. “As I said, I won’t be of much use to you as ambassadors and businesswomen. A mercenary has no need of impressive ships if his business is on land, only need of better equipment for those under his command.” He paused again. “I am sorry,” He finally added apologetically, feeling almost useless to her.



Lukas looked at Gwen again, the pained expression still playing across what was visible face. I hate these masks sometimes. No one sees what is there, beneath it, only the stoic, unchanging features that sits on the surface. “Hard not to look at noble brats when they enter as inconspicuous and an elephant.” He said quietly. He looked away still, doing his best to not draw his gaze, but it seemed a Krugerstani, and Valynia Daemogue had done it for her.

Valynia looked less than enthused about Vyrin talking to her, but her friends liked him, and she didn’t trust Vyrin alone...with anyone…

Outside, through the glass, the limo pulled up the entrance to the Dragon’s Keep. The Pacificorans, Maerfore, and Luna, had arrived.

[Krugeristan]

"I want the same," Golahman said. God, is it too soon? "But . . . I have a job, and, yes, I wish . . . you could be in Krugeristan with me, and, be in my life, my home, and experience everything Krugeristan has to offer . . . but . . . I don't know. It's very soon, I think." He turned a faint shade of red. "Assad would be kicking me in the butt right now, telling me to just say 'I love you'."

Fiona smiled sadly, well aware of the close relationship her boyfriend and his best friend shared.
"Then let me say it.", she whispered to him, "Tá mé i ngrá leat... I love you."
She made a small pause.
"But I can't leave Gabha, not at this point in time.", she whispered to him, sadness in her voice, "It is a long story, but to make it short, your request for aid to Assad threw a lot of people into a frenzy, especially at the Merchant Guild. This is my first night without business calls and stuff in three months..." She breathed out. "Mom uses me as her runner, while she holds down the fort in Traverse. And believe me, we are besieged."

"There are ways you could handle business from Krugeristan," Golahman said, hoping he didn't sound pressing and desperate. "We could have a base for you set up in a matter of weeks--how did that throw people into a frenzy? I don't recall making any solidified deals regarding aid. All I remember is the summer home agreement."

Vyrin caught Vershenov’s eyes as he walked towards a Crisk woman in a black, glimmering dress. He grinned slyly, as if trying to say ‘You can try again if you want. It won’t end the same.’ He didn’t break the gaze until he was upon the woman he was going to talk to, the merciless, sly, prideful, and narcissistic grin never leaving his face.

No, it won't. Vershenov was starting to wonder just how stupid Dolor was, but the man was right about a fight "not ending the same". The triple-edged bayonet was something you wanted stuck in you; the wound is hard to close up, and it deals more damage than the traditional double-edged blade. Even if the blade couldn't be used, Vershenov hadn't been a soldier for thirty years for no reason.

[The Selkie]

"There are ways you could handle business from Krugeristan," Golahman said, hoping he didn't sound pressing and desperate. "We could have a base for you set up in a matter of weeks--how did that throw people into a frenzy? I don't recall making any solidified deals regarding aid. All I remember is the summer home agreement."

Fiona smiled. "It's not the house, Mom actually already has a small brochure on her home desk with possible places, she just needs to send it to him. No..." Fiona tackled the metaphorical elephant in the room. "The problem is indeed your request for arms for Syria and Mister Assad."
She let out a small sigh.
"Let's just say, that there are a few rivalries in the MGoL concerning the arms business and that not all of it is pleasant... we'll handle it, though." She smiled. "Just like we always do."

Throne Room

Maxim nodded, Aria made no movement. “It is, refreshing, to hear that someone wishes to do business with us, to often it has been business at us if you catch my meaning. I would be happy to meet with this eager representative following the ceremony, Peter. Aria will likely want some time to herself,” Aria nodded in approval, “and I will likely have no other business to take care of, or otherwise, if it is more convenient for you, and your own, we can conduct schedule it for another day, night, or morning.”

Aria began to take steps away. She was going to avoid political business for as long as she could. She needed time before she would even try to sit on these meetings, like she had sat in on her uncle’s. It was the business her uncle, and his court to deal with, never her own. She didn’t realize that it was her court now.

Main Foyer

Vyrin caught Vershenov’s eyes as he walked towards a Crisk woman in a black, glimmering dress. He grinned slyly, as if trying to say ‘You can try again if you want. It won’t end the same.’ He didn’t break the gaze until he was upon the woman he was going to talk to, the merciless, sly, prideful, and narcissistic grin never leaving his face.



Zarrek sat down at the bar next to a unmasked woman he didn’t recognize, only that it was a Selkie. He ordered a small glass of cider himself, and stared at his drink for several moments, swishing it back and forth in the glass absentmindedly. He didn’t say anything, but he was hard not to tell he was irritated by something. A small smile came across his face as his phone gave off a quiet buzz. He checked the message, setting the cider on the counter, and his smile grew. It was a simple message from his daughter.

‘We’re on our way : )’

His face seemed to relax until he put the phone back in his pocket, his midn dwelling on the day he already had. Vyrin is hopeless. No way he will ever learn. One could only spend so much of a day with most of the Dolor family, and Vyrin was particularly bad.



Serik shook his head. “Unless you have ammunition, or better rifles than the Crisk have to offer, I won’t be of much use to you. I do not have the authority of the Council with me, and even the Council might be hesitant to do anything in regards to improving the armed forces at home.”

“They are traditionalists there, and they belief that if anyone invades they will be able to simply retreat back into the forests and mountains, away from the cities, and survive as we have, hunting in the wilds and begin our lives anew. Clear new lands, or move to the caves and survive off of the fungi and wild beasts in the area.” He looked at Waari before he said anything else. “As I said, I won’t be of much use to you as ambassadors and businesswomen. A mercenary has no need of impressive ships if his business is on land, only need of better equipment for those under his command.” He paused again. “I am sorry,” He finally added apologetically, feeling almost useless to her.



Lukas looked at Gwen again, the pained expression still playing across what was visible face. I hate these masks sometimes. No one sees what is there, beneath it, only the stoic, unchanging features that sits on the surface. “Hard not to look at noble brats when they enter as inconspicuous and an elephant.” He said quietly. He looked away still, doing his best to not draw his gaze, but it seemed a Krugerstani, and Valynia Daemogue had done it for her.

Valynia looked less than enthused about Vyrin talking to her, but her friends liked him, and she didn’t trust Vyrin alone...with anyone…

Outside, through the glass, the limo pulled up the entrance to the Dragon’s Keep. The Pacificorans, Maerfore, and Luna, had arrived.

Celina sat at the bar, the man with the cider sitting next to her.
He seemed... not in a happy mood. If that had anything to do with her, the overly cocky arsehole he came in with (he just gave a vibe like that off, she couldn't help it) or his cider, she could not tell, but she hoped, that she was not responsible.
She watched him from the corner of her eye, searching for a conversation opener.
Then he received a text, which seemed to cheer him up.
After he put it away, she asked with a smile: "So... good messages?"

Mairin smiled.
Cute defensive plan, guys..., she thought to herself, remembering a cute substance called Napalm and how well it worked on forests. She was not an expert on military matters, but a diplomat, but she knew even that.
"If it is land-equipment you desire, Mister Matran, then..." She motioned to Fiona, who was still talking to the President of Krugeristan in whispers, "...she is your best address. Fiona Banphrionsa of the Tribe of Cavan, here on behalf of Gabha Blacksmiths Limited, the main supplier of the SDF-Army. I do not know, if the rifles they produce suit your needs better then the Criskan ones and talking in such a manner would be rude on our gracious hosts, but talking to her won't hurt."
She leaned over.
"Plus, there's more to it then just rifles.", she told him with a smile, "Including in their catalogue."

Gwen smiled sadly, seeing the pained expression on the uncovered parts of the face.
"I know, what you mean, believe me about that.", she told him, "But don't let your evening get ruined by that... person." The way she used the term person might as well be the worst insult ever conceived by a human mind. "You have company, arriving out there is another bit of company by the sounds of it and... if you want to play knight in shining armour and safe her, say so. He doesn't really seem like a nice person and it would be honourable, for a Selkie, at least." She smiled up to him. "But I would wait a bit, as it seems, that he is already making a very big mistake. Commander Vershenov is not someone, who takes such challenges lightly. Maybe the problem solves itself."

[Krugeristan]

"There are ways you could handle business from Krugeristan," Golahman said, hoping he didn't sound pressing and desperate. "We could have a base for you set up in a matter of weeks--how did that throw people into a frenzy? I don't recall making any solidified deals regarding aid. All I remember is the summer home agreement."

Fiona smiled. "It's not the house, Mom actually already has a small brochure on her home desk with possible places, she just needs to send it to him. No..." Fiona tackled the metaphorical elephant in the room. "The problem is indeed your request for arms for Syria and Mister Assad."
She let out a small sigh.
"Let's just say, that there are a few rivalries in the MGoL concerning the arms business and that not all of it is pleasant... we'll handle it, though." She smiled. "Just like we always do."

"Well, just don't kill each other over it. If Assad is happy with someone's products, then let it be," Golahman replied. "Hell . . . I don't want to talk business tonight. I want to talk about something a little more . . . mentally stimulating." He weakly smiled. "I want to talk about the future of us, as if we were writing a book."

[Criska]

Main Foyer

Lukas looked over curiously. "Don't underestimate what a Dolor can do. He managed to force one war, and that was him alone, without the support of the rest of his family. I have seen more then a handful of people go missing when they did something to insult the family; and they have never been found." He left it that, breifly. "If anything happens, their will be duel or a fight otherwise, and neither one of them would come out on the good end of it. Maxim would likely be forced to show the authroity of office, and a halberd of a Royal Guard doesn't make for a pretty execution..." He trailed off, then cursed quietly. "The bigger mistake is ticking off the Daemogues, they have a private army, and Aria gets a long more then slightly well with their family. Might end up marryingher younger brother eventually." He shook his head. "I have had enough of the nobility over the past month. Starting to think like them."



Serik nodded, grinning slightly. "Talking never hurts, I just hope the people back home can have some sense talked into them. Only think keeping us safe is that we don't have much. Seems she is busy talking to someone slightly more important then me at the moment." He looked back at her, thoughtfully. "I think that has been enough business talk for now though. Tell, what is going in your part of the world?"



Zarrek looked at Celina, almost surprised he had been spoken to. "Ah...Yes." He smiled again, layer of his tension seeming to breeze off of him. "My family should be arriving soon, both my children." He looked down and took another sip from his drink, not knowing how to continue. He simply waited, looking mildly nervous, annoyed, and happy,all at the same time.

[The Siberian Empire]

Throne Room

Maxim nodded, Aria made no movement. “It is, refreshing, to hear that someone wishes to do business with us, to often it has been business at us if you catch my meaning. I would be happy to meet with this eager representative following the ceremony, Peter. Aria will likely want some time to herself,” Aria nodded in approval, “and I will likely have no other business to take care of, or otherwise, if it is more convenient for you, and your own, we can conduct schedule it for another day, night, or morning.”

Aria began to take steps away. She was going to avoid political business for as long as she could. She needed time before she would even try to sit on these meetings, like she had sat in on her uncle’s. It was the business her uncle, and his court to deal with, never her own. She didn’t realize that it was her court now.

Main Foyer

Vyrin caught Vershenov’s eyes as he walked towards a Crisk woman in a black, glimmering dress. He grinned slyly, as if trying to say ‘You can try again if you want. It won’t end the same.’ He didn’t break the gaze until he was upon the woman he was going to talk to, the merciless, sly, prideful, and narcissistic grin never leaving his face.



Zarrek sat down at the bar next to a unmasked woman he didn’t recognize, only that it was a Selkie. He ordered a small glass of cider himself, and stared at his drink for several moments, swishing it back and forth in the glass absentmindedly. He didn’t say anything, but he was hard not to tell he was irritated by something. A small smile came across his face as his phone gave off a quiet buzz. He checked the message, setting the cider on the counter, and his smile grew. It was a simple message from his daughter.

‘We’re on our way : )’

His face seemed to relax until he put the phone back in his pocket, his midn dwelling on the day he already had. Vyrin is hopeless. No way he will ever learn. One could only spend so much of a day with most of the Dolor family, and Vyrin was particularly bad.



Serik shook his head. “Unless you have ammunition, or better rifles than the Crisk have to offer, I won’t be of much use to you. I do not have the authority of the Council with me, and even the Council might be hesitant to do anything in regards to improving the armed forces at home.”

“They are traditionalists there, and they belief that if anyone invades they will be able to simply retreat back into the forests and mountains, away from the cities, and survive as we have, hunting in the wilds and begin our lives anew. Clear new lands, or move to the caves and survive off of the fungi and wild beasts in the area.” He looked at Waari before he said anything else. “As I said, I won’t be of much use to you as ambassadors and businesswomen. A mercenary has no need of impressive ships if his business is on land, only need of better equipment for those under his command.” He paused again. “I am sorry,” He finally added apologetically, feeling almost useless to her.



Lukas looked at Gwen again, the pained expression still playing across what was visible face. I hate these masks sometimes. No one sees what is there, beneath it, only the stoic, unchanging features that sits on the surface. “Hard not to look at noble brats when they enter as inconspicuous and an elephant.” He said quietly. He looked away still, doing his best to not draw his gaze, but it seemed a Krugerstani, and Valynia Daemogue had done it for her.

Valynia looked less than enthused about Vyrin talking to her, but her friends liked him, and she didn’t trust Vyrin alone...with anyone…

Outside, through the glass, the limo pulled up the entrance to the Dragon’s Keep. The Pacificorans, Maerfore, and Luna, had arrived.

"Assuming there are no duties for you to perform, after the ceremony will be fine." As air took steps away Peter stepped closer to maxim. "But I would request that we meet privately. Of course seeing as this is her house I have no objection to the empress attending but perhaps it would be best not to concern of such things until she is ready." Peter turned towards the door to see Antakov standing there looking at him. "Now I am sure there are many things that must be attended to, until tonight." As Peter moves away Antakov came closer. "Anything of importance come up?" Said Antakov.
"I'll be meeting with Maxim after the ceremony."
"And what is to be the subject of this meeting?"
"That isn't really any of your concern is it." As he said this he began to move away, but as he did so Antakov extended his arm and gave him a light shove where Alexander had kneed his chest. "Tread carefully my Lord, it would be shame for the Emperor to think he has allowed your leash to extend to far." Peter shoved his hand away from as he continues out the door and back into from where he came.

[Pacificora]

The Pacifican delegation with President Farania at the helm and being led to the palace by their most esteemed escorts. Xari, holding the lowest role out of all those attending, symbolically falls to the back of the line, only just behind the Ambassador. Following the very traditional and symbolic 'walk of praise', commonly practised in medieval Pacificora, and as a sign of protest during the Lux occupation period, the delegation halts at the staircase leading up to the palace. The National Gaurd consisting of 12 members then stream from their own transportation vehicles, and proceed to form a sort of shell, another extremely symbolic and old practice. One Gaurd stays behind the delegation, with three on each flank, and five in the front, fitting the number of delegation members. The delegation is then presented with their symbolic sabers, and another three sabers are passed to the back person and one on each flank that will be presented to the Royal Family as gifts, alongside a more prominent symbol of respect that would be revealed at a later time.

The five Gaurds in the front of the delegation then turn towards the palace and ascend the stairs in a v-formation, followed by a straight like of delegates. Xari wanted to look to each side, to remember the places he had been previously and restart the memories, but this was tradition, and his father had often told him 'Without Pacifican tradition, there is no Pacifican culture.'

They eventually reached the top of the stairs and got ready to enter the palace as the formation dilutes.

[The Selkie]

"Well, just don't kill each other over it. If Assad is happy with someone's products, then let it be," Golahman replied. "Hell . . . I don't want to talk business tonight. I want to talk about something a little more . . . mentally stimulating." He weakly smiled. "I want to talk about the future of us, as if we were writing a book."

"We won't.", Fiona assured with a smile, "And if somebody's going to die, then it's them, not us. We are a bit too powerful for them to handle..."
Her smile turned thoughtful.
"As it is, though...", she began, thinking a thought, that may or may not break his heart into a thousand pieces. She debated whether to tell him that or not, but... "...Mom is hosting a Spring Festival in Cuan this March. Sadly, the accompanying competition will not be open to foreigners, but the festival sure is. I see us walking over it, hand in hand... if you want, that is."

Main Foyer

Lukas looked over curiously. "Don't underestimate what a Dolor can do. He managed to force one war, and that was him alone, without the support of the rest of his family. I have seen more then a handful of people go missing when they did something to insult the family; and they have never been found." He left it that, breifly. "If anything happens, their will be duel or a fight otherwise, and neither one of them would come out on the good end of it. Maxim would likely be forced to show the authroity of office, and a halberd of a Royal Guard doesn't make for a pretty execution..." He trailed off, then cursed quietly. "The bigger mistake is ticking off the Daemogues, they have a private army, and Aria gets a long more then slightly well with their family. Might end up marryingher younger brother eventually." He shook his head. "I have had enough of the nobility over the past month. Starting to think like them."



Serik nodded, grinning slightly. "Talking never hurts, I just hope the people back home can have some sense talked into them. Only think keeping us safe is that we don't have much. Seems she is busy talking to someone slightly more important then me at the moment." He looked back at her, thoughtfully. "I think that has been enough business talk for now though. Tell, what is going in your part of the world?"



Zarrek looked at Celina, almost surprised he had been spoken to. "Ah...Yes." He smiled again, layer of his tension seeming to breeze off of him. "My family should be arriving soon, both my children." He looked down and took another sip from his drink, not knowing how to continue. He simply waited, looking mildly nervous, annoyed, and happy,all at the same time.

Gwen nodded. "I see..." Her smile didn't vanish. "It sounds an awful lot like the Clan Feuds that still sometimes happen... although one must admit, that except for the odd bar brawl, there isn't much more then sportly competition to it nowadays. No one is executed or killed for anything during those... normally, that is."
She shook her head.
"So... the Daemogues.", she said with a small smile of humour, "What can you tell me about them? Especially, do they need a private navy to go with their private army?"

Mairin shrugged internally. Well, there's an entire evening to talk to her about a comparative shooting., she thought to herself.
"Everything is quiet at the moment.", she said, "The last whisps of winter are disappearing, the Lutetiians are silent, too, and the trade flows freely and happily. We are currently preparing for the first Spring Festivals in March, a large one will be held in Cuan this year." She sighed deeply. "Worrying is the situation in the Babar Islands, or Achar Islands, as we call them. Our peacekeepers there have not the strength in numbers and materials to actually do something against the rising threat of piracy in the area, but they are doing their best. They could use reinforcements, but at the moment, the Council is unwilling to grant them that."

Celina smiled. "That's good to hear. Family is important."
She saw, that her conversation partner was both a bit nervous, happy and annoyed, but...
"Well, that was that idea for a conversation opener.", she said with a sheepish smile, her shoulders sagging, "You see, I am here on behalf of the Merchant Guild of Leuda and... I am not as experienced in such talks as for example my companions are, so... yeah."

[Crowspiracy]

"I still think the bearskins are going to do nothing but draw attention to ourselves", Lieutenant Vanessa Sharpe muttered as she adjusted her bearskin cover "I don't see why we couldn't wear civvies for this." He commanding officer, Major Charles Killian of the Grenadier Regiment, smiled and closed the limo door behind her.

"We're on duty, Vanessa. I'll admit we look like body guards, but once we're inside we can take them off again." Major Killian tugged at his red tunic and brushed off invisible lint.

"That's one thing I don't miss about the Regiment, although I do admit they're the sharpest uniforms in the army." John Winters, a diplomat with the Crowspiracy Department of State laughed. Dressed in a pinstriped suit, the man's suit stood as a stark contrast to the blood red tunics, black trousers, and black bearskins that marked his colleagues as members of the elite Grenadier Regiment. Although he was nominally a diplomat, Winters had spent nearly 15 years with Military Intelligence, including several years attached to the Grenadier regiment. It was there that he had met Major Killian and Lieutenant Sharpe. Together the three of them had been assigned to attend the gathering.

The three of them walked up to the door of the palace and knocked once

"Interesting looking palace"

The door opened once.
"Good day to you, John Winters of the Crowspiracy Department of State With me are my attaches Major Charles Kililan and Lieutenant Vanessa Sharpe. I apologize for being so late, we got held up."

[Criska]

Main Foyer

Zarrek nodded in understanding, a small, friendly, grin on his face. “Trust me when I tell you that I know how you feel about business talks. I still don’t like them.” He smiled, thoughtfully. “If I may ask, what does the Merchant Guild of Leuda do business in. I am not familiar with them, more familiar with Silverport Dockyards as the fallen Emperor had me watch in on some of the tests.” He tried his best to come off as friendly, but he didn’t know if it was right or not...Or if had said too much, or spoken out of turn.



Serik gave a grunt of affirmation. “Piracy is bush, you can remove the branches, but they will regrow from their source.” He gave an unintentionally sinister smile. “If you find their primary base of operations I have a friends who would likely deal with them free of charge, or for very little compared to most groups, only asking for transportation and food, that your government could contact.” He paused, not wanting to dwell on thoughts of battle. He had seen enough bloodshed and violence to drive most sane minds away from sense or reason, but he had mental fortitude few could match, and a place in his mind for thoughts he would rather let be.

“What does the Spring Festival entail, I am not familiar with them. The closest thing we get to holidays where I grew up was the two weeks spent on the Amar, and the days when the news of someone from our original community has passed on or that they are returning from a contract.”




Lukas laughed. “I am sure that their family would love to have one, if they don’t have one already. Strictly speaking their army shouldn’t exist due to laws passed a decade ago to prevent corporations from buying militaries and fighting actual wars over assets they want, but everyone has led it slide. They might be under a bit more scrutiny if several war ships appeared off of their estate.” He smiled, something that had become much more common for him over the years. He had lived during an age of turmoil, and a close relative had been the main player in that, which led to more than a small amount of anxiety for him. The Crisk were known for holding their grudges like the dwarves of myth did.



Maerfore and Luna entered the Foyer scant seconds before the Pacificorans, the large doors opening and remaining open for the entirety of their delegation’s procession in. A silence descended upon many of the Crisk, a silence beyond their normal muted talking. Vyrin watched them enter, specifically Xari, his eyes beaming with a hatred, with a false friendly smile on his face.

His hand moved ever so slightly towards the hilt of his sword, but Valynia grabbed his wrist and pushed up against the wall. Her eyes spoke louder than words that could be spoken. ‘Don’t try anything, or we both know who is going to be the one who isn’t leaving.’ Her eyes burned with a merciless fire, as she slowly relaxed her grip on his wrist. He had been grinning at her the whole time, the same prideful, somewhat charming, look on his face.

Slowly, conversation renewed among most of the Crisk, but their was an apprehension to it.

One of the Edem noticed the confrontation among the Siberian delegates. He walked closely, closer then may have been wise to. It was curious, and his stance was like that of a spring, waiting to act. He had questions now; why did their seem to be tension among their delegation, and why was one of them watching one of their own delegation like a feline that found prey.

Soon after, the Crowspiracy delegation entered.

Throne Room

“Maxim, I don’t trust them. It seemed one of them had been listening on the whole thing. That isn’t right.” Aria’s whispered, what was visible of her face shaped to hesitation. Maxim nodded, an amount of understanding in his eyes.

“That is the unfortunate truth about politics, Aria. It is two faced, and filled with people with their own agendas, their own goals they want done. Our job, as leaders, is to ensure that our goals are completed, while trying to limit the progress in the other’s agenda.” Maxim replied in a manner that spoke of being used to it.

“But why was one of them at the door.”

“You should know this yourself by now Aria. Different families have different goals, and at times a certain amount of intimidation is used to ensure that their own wins out. Look at the Daemogues for example; they are powerful, but because people fear the name, fear the force behind it. Countries do the same, and people close the government, whether we like it or not, will use what influence they think they have with us to pursue their own interests, their own standing.”

“I already hate this.”

“For good reason.” The Lord Protector replied without an ounce of humor, only seriousness filling his words. “We should begin soon. The faster we get the ceremony done, the faster the business can really begin, and we can get some food in our systems.” His voice spoke of a weariness he had not let show. They were both spread thin right now.

[The Selkie]

Main Foyer

Zarrek nodded in understanding, a small, friendly, grin on his face. “Trust me when I tell you that I know how you feel about business talks. I still don’t like them.” He smiled, thoughtfully. “If I may ask, what does the Merchant Guild of Leuda do business in. I am not familiar with them, more familiar with Silverport Dockyards as the fallen Emperor had me watch in on some of the tests.” He tried his best to come off as friendly, but he didn’t know if it was right or not...Or if had said too much, or spoken out of turn.



Serik gave a grunt of affirmation. “Piracy is bush, you can remove the branches, but they will regrow from their source.” He gave an unintentionally sinister smile. “If you find their primary base of operations I have a friends who would likely deal with them free of charge, or for very little compared to most groups, only asking for transportation and food, that your government could contact.” He paused, not wanting to dwell on thoughts of battle. He had seen enough bloodshed and violence to drive most sane minds away from sense or reason, but he had mental fortitude few could match, and a place in his mind for thoughts he would rather let be.

“What does the Spring Festival entail, I am not familiar with them. The closest thing we get to holidays where I grew up was the two weeks spent on the Amar, and the days when the news of someone from our original community has passed on or that they are returning from a contract.”




Lukas laughed. “I am sure that their family would love to have one, if they don’t have one already. Strictly speaking their army shouldn’t exist due to laws passed a decade ago to prevent corporations from buying militaries and fighting actual wars over assets they want, but everyone has led it slide. They might be under a bit more scrutiny if several war ships appeared off of their estate.” He smiled, something that had become much more common for him over the years. He had lived during an age of turmoil, and a close relative had been the main player in that, which led to more than a small amount of anxiety for him. The Crisk were known for holding their grudges like the dwarves of myth did.



Maerfore and Luna entered the Foyer scant seconds before the Pacificorans, the large doors opening and remaining open for the entirety of their delegation’s procession in. A silence descended upon many of the Crisk, a silence beyond their normal muted talking. Vyrin watched them enter, specifically Xari, his eyes beaming with a hatred, with a false friendly smile on his face.

His hand moved ever so slightly towards the hilt of his sword, but Valynia grabbed his wrist and pushed up against the wall. Her eyes spoke louder than words that could be spoken. ‘Don’t try anything, or we both know who is going to be the one who isn’t leaving.’ Her eyes burned with a merciless fire, as she slowly relaxed her grip on his wrist. He had been grinning at her the whole time, the same prideful, somewhat charming, look on his face.

Slowly, conversation renewed among most of the Crisk, but their was an apprehension to it.

One of the Edem noticed the confrontation among the Siberian delegates. He walked closely, closer then may have been wise to. It was curious, and his stance was like that of a spring, waiting to act. He had questions now; why did their seem to be tension among their delegation, and why was one of them watching one of their own delegation like a feline that found prey.

Soon after, the Crowspiracy delegation entered.

Throne Room

“Maxim, I don’t trust them. It seemed one of them had been listening on the whole thing. That isn’t right.” Aria’s whispered, what was visible of her face shaped to hesitation. Maxim nodded, an amount of understanding in his eyes.

“That is the unfortunate truth about politics, Aria. It is two faced, and filled with people with their own agendas, their own goals they want done. Our job, as leaders, is to ensure that our goals are completed, while trying to limit the progress in the other’s agenda.” Maxim replied in a manner that spoke of being used to it.

“But why was one of them at the door.”

“You should know this yourself by now Aria. Different families have different goals, and at times a certain amount of intimidation is used to ensure that their own wins out. Look at the Daemogues for example; they are powerful, but because people fear the name, fear the force behind it. Countries do the same, and people close the government, whether we like it or not, will use what influence they think they have with us to pursue their own interests, their own standing.”

“I already hate this.”

“For good reason.” The Lord Protector replied without an ounce of humor, only seriousness filling his words. “We should begin soon. The faster we get the ceremony done, the faster the business can really begin, and we can get some food in our systems.” His voice spoke of a weariness he had not let show. They were both spread thin right now.

Celina smiled reassuringly, her conversation partner had said nothing wrong and she wanted him to feel that.
"We trade in basically everything.", she explained, "Our merchants either export the products of the Free Lands to waiting customers, that sometimes includes vessels of SDY's production as we sometimes have issues with bringing them to the customer, for example with the Majestic-class Boats, or buy and sell the production and commodities of other countries to other countries, as well as move them. Compared to the merchant navies of other countries, ours is small, but we are flexible and you can virtually everything from us."
She made a small pause.
"Given the appropriate funding, of course."

Mairin nodded. Thank you for the offer, but as far as I know, we are working on it ourselves... by letting people, who will do it for free and at own cost, at it... Doing our dirty work without us getting involved and having them become the 'bad guys'.
"I see." She thought for a moment. "You see, we have two major festival times in the year, in Spring and in Autumn, one celebrating the return of life and life itself, the other one celebrating a successful harvest. The Spring Festival is... a mixture of a fair, a market, a sports competition and a small smidgen of religious ceremony, as well as getting together with people and celebrating. It's hard to explain it..."
She smiled sheepishly.

"Oh, I am sure, that we can do something for them...", Gwen said, already a few ideas popping into her head, smiling at Lukas, "But other then that, private shipping is an option, too. From Yachts to Dry Bulk Carriers, we have everything!" Her smile became a different note as she breathed in and out evenly. "I know, I brought it up, but... can we change topic for a bit? At least until the main business time starts?"
From the corner of her eye, she saw the Pacificoran delegation enter and saw the reaction the Crisk had to them... freezing welcome was an understatement. Another delegation, this one in bearskins, entered soon after.