SOS Winter Storm Burr (Elparia Only)

[Imperialist Treka]

Palatial Complex of Ani, State of Karelia
Grand Principality of the Greater Vanya

The ambassador nodded when he heard the Prince’s reasoning behind his question. “Trekan fisherman would be allowed to fish in these waters would they? I don’t know what’s here exactly but if people are willing to try some overseas fish caught by our own then hey maybe. Corusconia and Treka should both back your nation, both nations take pride in their navies, one maybe a little too much, I’m sure they’ll be happy to help. Treka has always longed for closer relations with Vanya because of the nation’s sort of anger towards Minachians.”
Anne watched Bruce talk with the prince before he turned to her and started conversing with her. “Haha, sounds like him.” She says smiling. She replies after hearing the compliment given by the prince, “thank you, as does yours”.
Ambassador Hutchinson turned back towards Alina who had tapped him on the shoulder and asked a question. “You didn’t go too deep into no, if you wish to tell me I’ll gladly listen, it’s best I know more.”

[Greater Vanya]

Palatial Complex of Ani, State of Karelia
Grand Principality of the Greater Vanya

"And what reputation might that be, madame?" Prince Vahagn asked bemusedly. His reputation among the Amangherali was largely mixed and nuanced given his impetuousness. On the one hand, her uncle was handsome, witty, affable, gallant, and an excellent story teller. On the other, he had a penchant for drinking in excess, seducing unmarried women and the wives of his personal enemies, and reacting to slights with a fierce and mercurial anger. His trysts and feuds scandalized the press, and had done more to keep him from power than her father's prevarication and bovine trust. Vahagn was as tempestuous, unpredictable, and forceful as a summer storm rolling in from the Khargic Gulf.

Alina, meanwhile, was engaged in explaining the intricacies of her planned fundraiser in excited tones. "Well, Mr. Ambassador, it's like this," she began, "I've been nominated to serve as the Queen of the Harvest Festival. Tašrevali, we call it. One of our old traditions is that everyone owes a tithe to the Queen of the Harvest Festival in gratitude to the prosperity of the previous year. The full sum can be rather considerable and has historically been distributed to charitable causes. I thought helping the victims of Winter Storm Burr might be a good use for the funds. And don't worry. I'd be doing this as a private citizen, not a representative of the government or the nation."

[Imperialist Treka]

Palatial Complex of Ani, State of Karelia
The Grand Principality of the Greater Vanya

Anne grinned. “I’ve heard that you’re a wicked (hehehehe our accent powers, confusion time) nice man. I know all I need to know.” She said. The Prince’s “charm” was starting to work on her. She became more and more enticed by him. “May I have a drink?” She said smiling.
Bruce turned and said “yeah do you have any Trekan beer by any chance?”. After asking he turned to the princess. “Well firstly, congratulations on being nominated queen, I’ll be at that festival.” He said happily. “Now, about the money, I think that’s actually a really good idea, believe me, you will be remembered for this. Since it’s private my government won’t need to know, I recommend setting up a charity or something in the money, not donating it, there are very few charities dedicated to natural dictator relief in Treka. But you can do whatever you want, believe me, we will repay you.”

[Greater Vanya]

Palatial Complex of Ani, State of Karelia
Grand Principality of the Greater Vanya

"All you need to know?" Vahagn asked, his tone playful and teasing. He allowed his slipper-clad foot to brush against hers under the couch, content in the knowledge that her husband was fully immersed in discussing the tedious details of fundraisers. His broad, well-muscled chest was visible beneath his kalia and gilded necklaces, the low light casting alluring shadows over his mighty breast. "Drinks for our guests!" he bellowed to a nearby servant, "A wine from Imereti for the lady - and have Shota fetch a casket of Trekan beer for the ambassador."

"That's a wonderful idea," Alina replied to the ambassador, "Any ideas on a name for my philanthropy?" She beamed at him, trying to ignore her uncle's obvious flirtations and worse Anne's reciprocation. The low light, important conversation, and intoxicating mood of the chamber served to distract from it, unless one knew specifically what to look for in Vahagn's mannerisms and gestures. "And you don't have to repay me or anyone else, Mr. Ambassador," Alina added, "That's the point of charity after all."

[Imperialist Treka]

Palatial Complex of Ani, state of Karelia
The Grand Principality of the Greater Vanya (I made a lot of typos on my last post yeesh)

Anne gazed at the prince. “Thank you so much for the wine!” She said, sounding maybe too excited. “What is wine from Imereti? I’ve heard of it, but that’s all, is it really that good?”. She looked at him curiously. Meanwhile ambassador Hutchinson engaged in conversation with the princess. “Thank you, I’ll be honest, I’m not great with naming things, I could try and think up one but it’d take me a good 10 minutes because I’m picky about what I find worth saying.” He said happily. “I’m gonna try some bread, I’m getting hungry, hope you don’t mind.” He got up from his seat and grabbed a piece and started eating. “I love Vanyan cuisine, back in Treka all we eat is seafood and dairy, no spices or anything, very simple diets. If you own a farm you own it for yourself, people usually can’t afford to give away what they farm because of the climate and the soil. It’s why I enjoy living here so much, eating Lobster and haddock every week gets boring.” He kept eating, turning to the prince he mentioned, “thank you for ordering the beer by the way”. He was completely oblivious to the manner in which he wife was acting. She was obviously enticed by the prince but the ambassador just wasn’t observant enough to focus.

[Greater Vanya]

Palatial Complex of Ani, State of Karelia
Grand Principality of the Greater Vanya

"Pure poison," Vahagn whispered, handing her a goblet of dark wine that had the faintest whiff of black berries about it. The taste was sweet, almost too sweet, and a refreshing coolness that seemed to linger on the tongue and in the cheeks and on the lips. Alina felt her stomach twisting into knots as a couple grunting servants returned with a large insulated cask of Trekan pale beer. One of the men twisted a nozzle, allowing the amber liquid to plummet into a tall glass. She had no doubt that her uncle's minions had sneaked some sleep-inducing concoction into it. At least it would avoid an open scandal. A husband who was passed out between a couple paid-off servants girls couldn't complain that his wife had stormed off without him - though nobody would be so foolish as to mention that she wasn't unaccompanied.

Warm, gooey comfort food, sprinkled liberally with spices and seasonings, had been a stable of Vanya cuisine for centuries. An old proverb said that "a man knows the soul of a country by its its diet", and, if it were so, one would not have been mistaken in supposing that the Vanya were a warm, simple people. Nobody ever supposed that the culture that had originated khachapuri might just as easily thrust a dagger into a stranger's back under less auspicious circumstances. At the moment, however, Alina's smile was as genuine as it was winsome. The light falling over her hair transformed her chestnut curls into knots of copper.

"Two heads are better than one, no?" she giggled, "There's no reason we can't brainstorm as we eat. Zelda, pass the lamb before Beda eats it all - and the platter too!" The younger girl looked up and gave a sheepish smile. "You should be kinder, Alina," Zelda said gaily, passing the plate to the princess and the ambassador. "You're the saint of our group," Alina shot back, "Odd considering Romina's the only Catholic." Zelda listened intently as Hutchinson described the subsistence lifestyle of the Trekan farmers. "I'd like to hear more if you don't mind, Mr. Ambassador," she said. The feast was in full progress.

[Imperialist Treka]

Palatial Complex of Ani, State of Karelia
The Grand Principality of the Greater Vanya

Sprinkled LIBERALLY!? Send the army


Anne grinned, “thank you so much”. She would never betray the ambassador but with a little wine she could easily be moved to do so. She took a few sips. “Yeesh that’s strong, but really good”. She kept eating and started falling in love with the culture, but probably something else too if you’re really that blind not to notice, I mean cmon man it’s obvious, it’s the center of the story, that winter storm is old news now. Anyhow I’ll move on. The ambassador grabbed a beer and started drinking. “Well uh, so a Trekan farm is uh...” he starts getting tired. In seconds he fell asleep suddenly.

[Greater Vanya]

Palatial Complex of Ani, State of Karelia
Grand Principality of the Greater Vanya

Narses squinted irately at Vahagn as his brother strolled into the great hall, his dark, curly hair disheveled and his apple-cheeked face aglow. The younger man's crimson galia was wrinkled and hung off from his well-muscled breast. "Ah, brother!" Vahagn called gleefully, "You were right when you told me that I should pay more attention to foreign relations. The experience was quite... enriching." Narses heaved a deep sigh, and, stretching out his ebony cane, hoisted himself to his feet, ignoring the searing pain that pulsed through his club foot. "You're too reckless, little brother," he griped, "Everyone saw you flirting with the ambassador's wife."

"I'm certain half the ambassadorial wing heard us last night as well," Vahagn chuckled "She was a screamer, that one." He tugged his robes until they unraveled and landed in a heap on the cool, stone floor. "Your flippancy tries my patience," Narses grumbled, "This is important, Vahagn. We need the Trekan ships if we're to hold the Khargic Gulf and the northern sea-lanes." Vahagn made a pretense of a waltz and stepped past his brother, splashing water from a bowl onto his weary-looking face. Rivulets clung to his neatly manicured beard, shimmering like ribbons of silver. "Do you know what else we need, brother?" Vahagn said, "Daring. The kind of daring it takes to poke your head out over a bunker or to kiss a woman."

"Even a married woman?" Narses asked, scowling somewhat. "Especially a married woman," Vahagn answered with a wink of his good eye, "My most recent exploit will no doubt have half the ladies at Amgheria gossiping and swooning." Narses's eyes narrowed. "I suspect that not everyone who speaks of your indiscretions will do so with girlish giggles," he said, "The Amgheria is not a coop of hens after all." Vahagn seemed to contemplate this for a moment, nodding slowly. "Just so," he said at last, "The soldiers will toast me when they're in their cups and the soft courtiers of the capitol will tremble when I ask their wives and daughters to dance. I get your meaning, but enough chiding. Come to the bath with me, brother, and let's talk of more youthful dances." He began walking towards a long stairwell.

"Whatever do you mean?" Narses inquired, hobbling along behind his brother. "My nephew and his enchanting dance partner, of course," Vahagn laughed, "The Pahlavuni girl. Blonde, taller than him by three inches, and too pretty by far. A bit ungainly for my tastes, but I can see her charms. She's well-bred too so even a prude like you can't object." Narses winced as his foot collided with a stair and sent pain snaking up his leg. "Ah, Zelda," he said, "I do not disagree with you. I love that girl as though she were my own daughter." They finally reached the bath after a long walk that left Narses's gasping for air with a smarting leg.

The facility was beautiful, constructed of brown, pink, and grey stones that could be warmed by the heating system below them. The facets were welded from bronze to resemble the mouths and heads of long-necked, frilled dragons and sea serpents. The water that poured forth from them originated in the local hot springs, rich with exfoliating minerals that left the skin soft and shining. They filled the tub and perched themselves on opposite benches, allowing the water to splash over their heads and shoulders as their feet were gradually submerged.

"This is just what the doctor ordered, eh, brother?" Vahagn said, slumping down. "I'm content," Narses said in turn, "My pain is subsiding, my daughter is making friends of the Trekans..." Vahagn guffawed heartily. "The fish-mongers have ambition," he said, "They want our friendship more than we want theirs, but, if ever you need an ambassador, I volunteer as tribute. Half the population will love us; the other half, well... It's fortunate I sleep with a pistol or two on my person." Narses rolled his eyes.

"Dear, brother," Narses suggested softly, "You may find your services in demand sooner rather than later." Vahagn blinked, drawing a tense breath. Then he gave Narses's a curious look. "I spoke to the Grand Prince," the older man began again. "Our father, you mean?" Vahagn growled, bristling somewhat. "Yes," Narses continued, "I spoke to him regarding your behavior last night. He instructed me to dispatch you to Minachia so that you might argue for our access to the northern sea-lanes." Vahagn brushed himself with a sponge so hard that Narses thought he might break the skin. "I suppose he thinks that a punishment of some sort," Vahagn muttered darkly, "We have next to no hope of convincing them. So it's an exile of sorts."

A poignant silence hung made it almost difficult to breathe. "I'll do it," Vahagn said at last, "I've been meaning to visit our neighbors to the north for some time anyhow. The women may be cold, but I've heard good things about their soldiery. When do I leave?"

"Tomorrow," Narses answered immediately. "Two members of the princely family gone within the week," Vahagn said, "That'll be a minor scandal, but then I have knack for those. Wish me luck, brother. If both missions succeed, all our enemies will evaporate over night."

---

Open Blue Skies
Portown, United States of Treka

Beda nibbled voraciously on the half-sandwiches that Zelda had been sweet enough to make that morning. They consisted of lightly toasted bread, a savory spread of creamy feta cheese sweetened with delicate additions of strawberry extract, and toppings that included sliced granny smith apples, raisins of two colors, and lightly-salted, roasted walnuts. Zelda had intended them as a light snack, but Beda had already devoured six of the sandwiches, not counting the one that was swiftly dissolving into crumbs before their eyes. Romina had assumed her general lofty air, deigning only to glare at her gluttonous friend. "What?" Beda griped at last. "You're so ill-mannered, Beda," Romina huffed, "A lady is supposed to eat slowly." The younger girl took one last, massive mouthful to finish the sandwich, almost choking until she washed it down with a gulp of water. "I was hungry," she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"How on earth were you hungry!?" Romina exclaimed, "You ate two bowls of fruit and five granola bars at breakfast!" Beda shrugged again, brushing crumbs from her dress with rough strokes of her tiny hands. This caused wrinkles to form her rich verdant dress, but the inattentive fifteen year old failed to take any notice. "She's a growing girl," Alina laughed, "Those sandwiches are in a better place now." As if to accentuate the point, Alina lightly squeezed one of Beda's breasts, making the younger girl turn a bright shade of crimson. "You're such a perv, Allie," her victim complained grumpily. "It is rather undignified," Romina agreed sternly, "Princesses don't just go around honking their friends' boobs."

"I guess that's true," Alina conceded, "Besides, if I'm always fondling your boobs, no boy'll ever get the chance." Beda looked as though she might jump out the window of the private jetliner, while Romina's mouth hung agape. Zelda, who had been quietly reading a book of romantic poetry from Imereti, giggled softly at the remark. "You're being mean today, Allie," she scolded her, "You shouldn't tease her so." Alina glanced at her inquisitively. Zelda was a demur, bookish girl; slender, snow-blonde, and pretty. She was closer to Alina than Beda, and her sweet, careful nature balanced wonderfully with Alina's much more impulsive tendencies. "Don't be jealous, Zelda," she shot back, "While it may be difficult to find them, I'll squeeze your boobs one day too. Perhaps I'll dispatch a princely search party to scour your blouse for clues!" A few stifled giggles erupted from the girls, with Beda snorting audibly as she struggled to contain intermittent bursts of laughter. "You're one to talk," Romina said, a mischievous smile finally reaching to her cheeks, "You used to stuff your bra with tissue paper every morning." This remark was greeted with additional chortling.

"I did," Alina admitted, blushing a pretty pink hue, "I was too young to know better then, but I'm a woman now. And every grown woman knows that a push-up bra is the way to go. Or maybe two push-up bras." Beda stamped her foot. "Is that the speech that got you elected president of the itty-bitty titty committee?" the girl inquired, cocking her head winsomely. "What if it is?" Alina asked. "Then the principality is doomed," Romina said, pretending to bemoan the fate of their nation, "We've never had a tit-less grand princess who couldn't give a speech. What ever will we do?" Alina glanced at her friends conspiratorially. "We've had worse," she said quietly, "We've had dozens of grand princes. We've even survived my uncle." The laughter was unrestrained this time. Beda slammed her hands together in riotous applause, Romina had tears welling up at the corners of her eyes, and Zelda even folded her book shut amid fits of tremulous giggling.

"You mentioned boys earlier, Allie?" Zelda finally managed, "Why don't you tell us about your admirer?" Alina frowned, folding her arms stiffly across her chest. "Imeda is NOT an admirer," she sniffed, "He's just a childhood friend." A soft smile blossomed on the other girl's face. "That's precisely what a girl half in love would say," Zelda reasoned. "You've been reading too many romance novels," Alina grumbled, biting her lip in irritation.

"You'd be better off marrying an Izoria anyhow," Romina asserted. Beda made a disgusted face, tensing her fists into little, fleshy balls. "Aleksandre Izoria is so plain-looking though," she said, dragging her words out for emphasis. "He has a pretty eyes," Zelda allowed, attempting to focus on the man's redeeming qualities, "And his sense of humor is rumored to be very keen." Romina shook her head forcefully. "None of that matters," she said, "He's high nobility. That should be enough for anyone." Every one of them knew that Romina prioritized a man's status and wealth over his looks, personality, or manners. She was a daughter of the Gens Nymphidii, as her full name made abundantly clear, and this had shaped her views of marriage from an early age. Her grandfather was a strict, old-fashioned man who wholly embodied the Latin ethos and firmly believed that the needs of one's family should come before personal desires. This explained many of Romina's behaviors and much of her attitude. "It's talk like that that makes everyone think you're going to marry a fat, old man one day," Beda remarked playfully. Romina laughed, but it was halfhearted and her gaze looked pained.

Alina peered at Romina sympathetically, knowing full well how wounding the innocent joke had been. "Enough talk of boys," she said at last, "We're going to Treka to plan a charity event. So we'll need to be on our best behavior." Zelda seemed to heave a sigh of relief, whereas Romina gave her queen a thankful glance. "Yuck," Beda said, "Don't the fish-mongers hate us anyway?" "It's necessary," Astrid replied, "My grandfather still refuses to allow me to appoint Zelda as our Chancellor of the Exchequer, so I figure this is our next best option. We need to make friends and get economic aid somehow?" Zelda beamed at her, a slight blush creeping onto her pale skin. Economics, maths, literature, and languages were the four areas where Zelda excelled as a student, and, while normally humble, she was very open to flattery from people she respected and adored.

"I see the city!" Beda screamed excitedly. "And so it begins," Romina said ominously, as the jet began to descend. "I wonder what Treka will be like," Zelda muttered, opening her book to the exact page she had been reading. Alina felt sweat pooling in her palm. Yet another test. How many more would her grandfather need before he realized that she, not Aram, was fit to rule?

This post is taken from one of my posts made with an older alt, Stjernland. If you would like confirmation of this, simply do a little digging into the current purpose of the nation (I used it as a raiding/occupation puppet now) or shoot a TG to me and I'll confirm it by telegram.

[Imperialist Treka]

Trekan Embassy, Rustveli, Greater Vanya

Ambassador Hutchison got off the phone with the Secretary of State and looked at his advisor. “He said they might threaten to pull the navy out of Vanya.” The advisor looked back at him, “god, all this and she just leaves you. Well, we left her there, I can’t imagine what she’d be doing now.” The ambassador nodded, “well, I think if vanyans are gonna mess with our internal affairs then they deserve a little punishment so I support the move. Well, I haven’t slept in a while, I’ll be heading to bed”. The advisor nodded and left.


Newburyport Naval Base, Newburyport, Bridgtenia, Treka

Secretary of State Donald H. Farrington, walked into the meeting room eagerly. He took a seat across from the Minister of Defense, John K. Swanson. It was just the two of them, there was a weird lonely feeling in the room. “Well, you heard my plan I hope”. The minister of defense nodded, “Yep, now, I have some issues with it, let me state them before you continue. Without a Naval presence in the region, Minachian Ships could reach our fleet due south of them without us noticing.” The Secretary of State looked up at him, “well we can always move ships north.” He said. “I suppose so” the MoD replied. “Well, that’s all I have”, the SoS stood up and shook Swanson’s hand. “Quick and easy like I said.” He left the room.

LETTER TO THE VANYAN GOVERNMENT

To: VANYAN MINISTRY OF FOREIGN AFFAIRS

Hello, I’m sure we all know about what happened with our Ambassador to your nation, Hutchinson, and your prince there. We have found this’s act appalling and all it has done is pushed our populous to show less and less trust for your nation. You have affected our Ambassador greatly and it will effect his ability to work.

Because of these problems, we request that you do something about this incident, including punishment of the prince, to perhaps patch things up. If not I’m afraid we’ll have to send our fleet back to port in Zemirgrad. I hope I kept this short and sweet for you, thank you for your cooperation.
~Sincerely, Trekan Secretary of State, Donald H. Farrington.

[Greater Vanya]

Portown, United States of Treka

Grey and grey and grey.

A thin, ghostly mist hung over the run-way like a cobweb, its gossamer fingers brushing frostily over her cheeks and nose as she strolled down from the private jet-liner to be accosted by the waiting media rabble. Bundled in a thick coat of vulpine furs and shredded blue jeans, Alina looked more like an A-list actress than a visiting ambassador. She held her dimpled chin up ever so slightly and smiled for the flashing cameras. Zelda, who was half hidden behind her, allowed the paparazzi a shy, crooked grin. To her right, Romina wore a stoic expression, her solemn patrician features hardened considerably by the austerity of the weather. Lastly, Beda was almost wholly concealed behind her, peaking out nervously every couple seconds. "Beda, sweetie," Alina whispered tersely, "You can't cling to me when we meet the Trekan welcoming committee." Romina nodded sternly. "She's right," the older girl acknowledged, "It'd reflect poorly on your family."

Beda, trembling more than a little, stepped away from her. The youngest of her companions was a mess. Her shocking red tresses fell in lovely disarray, but her posture was lazy and her hands ever-fidgeting. Almost instinctively, Alina reached out and entwined her fingers with Beda's. "I keep forgetting this is your first time away from home," the princess said, not unkindly, "Just act like you would in my father's hall or in the meadows of Imereti. We can hold hands the whole way down." The melody of Zelda's tinkling laughter issued from her shadow as her best friend slid over to grasp Beda's other hand. "Just so," she said encouragingly, "We're all in this together." Beda's lip quivered a little. "What if I mess up?" she asked weakly. "Allie's a pro at this," Zelda soothed her, "I promise it's nowhere near as scary as it seems at first." Alina shot Romina a sideways glance. The eldest girl tried to pretend she hadn't noticed before finally relenting. "Fine," she hissed, placing her palm in the princess's own. There were a few more rumblings about their behavior being undignified, but those quieted as they began to descend from the jet-liner and make their way down the cement path.

---

Lufenia, State of Karelia
Grand Principality of the Greater Vanya

Aram sat on a craggy cliff-side, staring sullenly out over the tumbling grey waves of the Gulf of Kharga. Below him, the ships of the Trekan fleet bobbed in the cold water like the heads of so many sea snakes. He panted wearily. It had been a long, hard day of riding to reach the windswept demesnes of Anhaza and the maritime gusts had wrought havoc on his throat and lungs. The air was thicker and heavier here. It was brine and vinegar and seagull guano. Several hours ago the meditative quiet of the purplish mountains had given way to the noisy tumble of the ocean. Aram felt himself grow queasy the longer he dwelt on the difference.