Coronation of Suleiman(IC/Post-MT)

[Saranidia]

Suleiman has been named the successor to the throne of Saranidia.
This is the feast celebrating his coronation.

[The Selkie]

Mhairi Maighdean of the Tribe of Kildare.
Saranidia.
To say, that this place was... 'interesting' was to say, that water was wet: Technically correct, but it kind-of missed the point.
Anyway, the ceremony had been short, a guy named Suleyman, a foreigner, who apparently trained for some revolution or the other, decided to stick around and got washed up the ladder to become the new Sultan of Saranidia, or successor to the post.
It wasn't quite clear.
Same with who that guy was to begin with.
Still, we were at the feast celebrating this occasion. We, that means Ambassador Group 4 and a representative of the Merchant Guild, were here to speak with the local elites and with foreign elites and to represent the Free Lands and the Selkie. We were three, myself, Mairin Leann of the Tribe of Monaghan, a pleasant blonde and professional diplomat, football fan to the core, and Celina Cumann of the Tribe of Waterford, a good merchant and better representative of the Guild and her interests.
We were easily distinguishable by the colourful fur dresses, which we wore, the Geansai, of course in our respective tribes' colours.
Before the actual feast started, we were apparently missing the man of the hour, Suleiman himself, or at least we haven't spotted him yet, we three stood together and made last preparations, spoke about the last things we needed to take care of.
Celina's primary objective would be to speak with Suleiman, to open the market for products of the Free Lands and the merchant vessels of the Guild, while Mairin and I would be... around.
It was a plan.
Better then nothing.
The air was heavy. Something was coming. The question now was... what?

[Polish Prussian Commonwealth]

Kalliopolis-Saranidia
Those entering would see a curious sight-A young European woman, in full combat gear, a ski mask hiding most of her facial features, kevlar armor and all, and an H&K 416 slung over her back, guarding the door. The patch of Saranidia's Unit 777 could be seen on her sleeve.
Unusually, though, the Saranidan flag was missing.
If questioned, she would simply reply with "Field Marshall Al-Salek isn't here yet."
If there was anyone good with picking, they would probably guess that she was from Central or Eastern Europe...possibly the Prussian-Polish Commonwealth, although what a Prussian-Pole was doing, serving in the military of their nation's sworn enemies, was up to the imagination.

This was, of course, Marie Ernst, former Prisoner of War and close friend of Suleiman. But noone, besides Suleiman, Unit 777, and Suleiman's wife, Fatimah, knew that. For all anyone else knew, she was just your generic member of the Saranidian Army, trained only to blindly snap to orders from superiors and nothing else.

[The Scarlet Eagle]

Finally, they had arrived to the coronation's feast.
Time to get serious, thinks William Raven, a tall man of 2.05m, with black hair and grey eyes, who is wearing for the occasion something different than the usual business suit with a red neck tie everyone is accustomed to see him wearing back home. Instead, he is dressed in black tie attire (minus the vest who his resting on his arm), with a red-wine cummerbund and pants, as well as a black bolo tie with a silver horse head.
At his side, his assistant, Miss Tatiana Gutierrez, wearing a black, ankle-length skirt, a white blouse with a sleeveless vest worn on top of it, and a black bowtie. A oair of black boots completes the ensemble. Her long, dark hair is held back in a simple ponytail.

As they stand in the hall where the feast will take place, the both of them take some time to detail the other guests present, spotting the Selkie Ambassadors from afar, but not moving towards them. If Raven had to say a single word concerning this event, it would be: complicated. Whether he would be referring to how the New Sultan had been chosen, or what he was supposed to do here, nothing was simple when it came to this event. The best he could do with Tatiana, for now, was to keep waiting, and see what would happen...

[Polish Prussian Commonwealth]

Finally, they had arrived to the coronation's feast.
Time to get serious, thinks William Raven, a tall man of 2.05m, with black hair and grey eyes, who is wearing for the occasion something different than the usual business suit with a red neck tie everyone is accustomed to see him wearing back home. Instead, he is dressed in black tie attire (minus the vest who his resting on his arm), with a red-wine cummerbund and pants, as well as a black bolo tie with a silver horse head.
At his side, his assistant, Miss Tatiana Gutierrez, wearing a black, ankle-length skirt, a white blouse with a sleeveless vest worn on top of it, and a black bowtie. A oair of black boots completes the ensemble. Her long, dark hair is held back in a simple ponytail.

As they stand in the hall where the feast will take place, the both of them take some time to detail the other guests present, spotting the Selkie Ambassadors from afar, but not moving towards them. If Raven had to say a single word concerning this event, it would be: complicated. Whether he would be referring to how the New Sultan had been chosen, or what he was supposed to do here, nothing was simple when it came to this event. The best he could do with Tatiana, for now, was to keep waiting, and see what would happen...

Mhairi Maighdean of the Tribe of Kildare.
Saranidia.
To say, that this place was... 'interesting' was to say, that water was wet: Technically correct, but it kind-of missed the point.
Anyway, the ceremony had been short, a guy named Suleyman, a foreigner, who apparently trained for some revolution or the other, decided to stick around and got washed up the ladder to become the new Sultan of Saranidia, or successor to the post.
It wasn't quite clear.
Same with who that guy was to begin with.
Still, we were at the feast celebrating this occasion. We, that means Ambassador Group 4 and a representative of the Merchant Guild, were here to speak with the local elites and with foreign elites and to represent the Free Lands and the Selkie. We were three, myself, Mairin Leann of the Tribe of Monaghan, a pleasant blonde and professional diplomat, football fan to the core, and Celina Cumann of the Tribe of Waterford, a good merchant and better representative of the Guild and her interests.
We were easily distinguishable by the colourful fur dresses, which we wore, the Geansai, of course in our respective tribes' colours.
Before the actual feast started, we were apparently missing the man of the hour, Suleiman himself, or at least we haven't spotted him yet, we three stood together and made last preparations, spoke about the last things we needed to take care of.
Celina's primary objective would be to speak with Suleiman, to open the market for products of the Free Lands and the merchant vessels of the Guild, while Mairin and I would be... around.
It was a plan.
Better then nothing.
The air was heavy. Something was coming. The question now was... what?

Both would be blocked from entering by the aforementioned soldier.

[Danceria]

Summer Palace, Kallipolis, Saranidia
Suleiman

---

On the edge of the city, change arrived. It came in the form of four hundred men and women, armed with a variety of rifles, SMGs, and pistols, from both East and West. This was Unit 777, the personal battalion of Suleiman Al-Salek. While ordinarily, they were seen with an absurd amount of anti-tank weapons, today they were, to be honest, on something of a vacation. Just stand around, exercise trigger discipline, shoot anyone dumb enough to start shit, and enjoy some food on the sly.
No drinks, unfortunately.
They knew, though, that if things went right, the coronation would be the start of a new Saranidia...in more ways than one.

Their loyalty was to Suleiman Abdul Aleem ibn-Saleh, of the Clan Al-Salek. Now he rode in front of the unit on a trusty Arabian steed. Cap-a-pie he was dressed in finery befitting of his coronation. His khalat a deep grassy green, and upon his head a spotless-white turban, and he carried himself as a conqueror returning to a triumph, and in many ways he was.

From the fresh faced cowherd who entered the School of Insurgency some years ago, he distinguished himself during the Isratine conflict and as Minister of Intelligence. Adopted, and married into the Khan Clan that ruled Saranidia, he had been vaulted up the political ladder beyond his wildest hopes or dreams...and was rewarded with a choking vine of cynicism. Too easily did the Sisterly Leader heap reward after reward unto him, even in the face of disastrous defeats. He had seen the great need this country had for a leader, and the Almighty had given him a tantalizing gaze of the throne…

He should have ran, he should have never left Dagestan...but it appears his destiny was to lead Saranidia. He had his unit behind him, and ahead, the palace.

Already he saw a small scattering of ambassadors and other dignitaries, and Suleiman would be providing much of the security. His unit was heavily armed and experienced, but mostly infantry at the end of the day. Well, it was technically an artillery and anti-tank guerrilla force, but the military parade had been kept modest. The Khan insisted it was mostly symbolic, an insurance and demonstration that he would protect Saranidia, as well as many in his unit that were formerly misfits and considered “problem soldiers”. Judging by the crisp uniforms and prompt march, discipline was enforced spectacularly.

He recognized the guard, and once he dismounted his horse, he would motion for the woman to stand aside and allow people to access the feast and ceremony proper. Officers quickly barked orders as the units gradually splintered off and marched to their posts like a well oiled machine. Suleiman however, was more relaxed. Carrying himself a graceful host, he would address the Selkie and the Scarlet Americans.

“Welcome to Kallipolis,” he began extending his hand to shake, “Vice-Emperor Raven, Ms. Gutierrez, you honour me greatly with your presence. Please, come inside.” Of course, Suleiman would notice the Ambassador Group from the Free Lands, “Ambassadors Leann and Maighdean, Ms. Cumann;” Suleiman would greet the Selkie representatives as well “No doubt we will have the pleasure of speaking later regarding the Guild of Leuda. Or at the very least, comparing the black tea of our respective countries.” he would smile warmly in recollection. “Unfortunately, I have not had the pleasure of visiting the Empire of the Scarlet Eagle...but I was in Cuan during their Spring Festival.”

[The Scarlet Eagle]

Summer Palace, Kallipolis, Saranidia
Suleiman

---

On the edge of the city, change arrived. It came in the form of four hundred men and women, armed with a variety of rifles, SMGs, and pistols, from both East and West. This was Unit 777, the personal battalion of Suleiman Al-Salek. While ordinarily, they were seen with an absurd amount of anti-tank weapons, today they were, to be honest, on something of a vacation. Just stand around, exercise trigger discipline, shoot anyone dumb enough to start shit, and enjoy some food on the sly.
No drinks, unfortunately.
They knew, though, that if things went right, the coronation would be the start of a new Saranidia...in more ways than one.

Their loyalty was to Suleiman Abdul Aleem ibn-Saleh, of the Clan Al-Salek. Now he rode in front of the unit on a trusty Arabian steed. Cap-a-pie he was dressed in finery befitting of his coronation. His khalat a deep grassy green, and upon his head a spotless-white turban, and he carried himself as a conqueror returning to a triumph, and in many ways he was.

From the fresh faced cowherd who entered the School of Insurgency some years ago, he distinguished himself during the Isratine conflict and as Minister of Intelligence. Adopted, and married into the Khan Clan that ruled Saranidia, he had been vaulted up the political ladder beyond his wildest hopes or dreams...and was rewarded with a choking vine of cynicism. Too easily did the Sisterly Leader heap reward after reward unto him, even in the face of disastrous defeats. He had seen the great need this country had for a leader, and the Almighty had given him a tantalizing gaze of the throne…

He should have ran, he should have never left Dagestan...but it appears his destiny was to lead Saranidia. He had his unit behind him, and ahead, the palace.

Already he saw a small scattering of ambassadors and other dignitaries, and Suleiman would be providing much of the security. His unit was heavily armed and experienced, but mostly infantry at the end of the day. Well, it was technically an artillery and anti-tank guerrilla force, but the military parade had been kept modest. The Khan insisted it was mostly symbolic, an insurance and demonstration that he would protect Saranidia, as well as many in his unit that were formerly misfits and considered “problem soldiers”. Judging by the crisp uniforms and prompt march, discipline was enforced spectacularly.

He recognized the guard, and once he dismounted his horse, he would motion for the woman to stand aside and allow people to access the feast and ceremony proper. Officers quickly barked orders as the units gradually splintered off and marched to their posts like a well oiled machine. Suleiman however, was more relaxed. Carrying himself a graceful host, he would address the Selkie and the Scarlet Americans.

“Welcome to Kallipolis,” he began extending his hand to shake, “Vice-Emperor Raven, Ms. Gutierrez, you honour me greatly with your presence. Please, come inside.” Of course, Suleiman would notice the Ambassador Group from the Free Lands, “Ambassadors Leann and Maighdean, Ms. Cumann;” Suleiman would greet the Selkie representatives as well “No doubt we will have the pleasure of speaking later regarding the Guild of Leuda. Or at the very least, comparing the black tea of our respective countries.” he would smile warmly in recollection. “Unfortunately, I have not had the pleasure of visiting the Empire of the Scarlet Eagle...but I was in Cuan during their Spring Festival.”

"The honor is all ours as well, Sultan Suleiman, replies Raven with a small smile as he bows to the Sultan along with Tatiana. Know that if you want to ever visit, our Emperor and Empress will be glad to welcome you at your convenience. Anyway, thank you for inviting us here."

[The Selkie]

Summer Palace, Kallipolis, Saranidia
Suleiman

---

On the edge of the city, change arrived. It came in the form of four hundred men and women, armed with a variety of rifles, SMGs, and pistols, from both East and West. This was Unit 777, the personal battalion of Suleiman Al-Salek. While ordinarily, they were seen with an absurd amount of anti-tank weapons, today they were, to be honest, on something of a vacation. Just stand around, exercise trigger discipline, shoot anyone dumb enough to start shit, and enjoy some food on the sly.
No drinks, unfortunately.
They knew, though, that if things went right, the coronation would be the start of a new Saranidia...in more ways than one.

Their loyalty was to Suleiman Abdul Aleem ibn-Saleh, of the Clan Al-Salek. Now he rode in front of the unit on a trusty Arabian steed. Cap-a-pie he was dressed in finery befitting of his coronation. His khalat a deep grassy green, and upon his head a spotless-white turban, and he carried himself as a conqueror returning to a triumph, and in many ways he was.

From the fresh faced cowherd who entered the School of Insurgency some years ago, he distinguished himself during the Isratine conflict and as Minister of Intelligence. Adopted, and married into the Khan Clan that ruled Saranidia, he had been vaulted up the political ladder beyond his wildest hopes or dreams...and was rewarded with a choking vine of cynicism. Too easily did the Sisterly Leader heap reward after reward unto him, even in the face of disastrous defeats. He had seen the great need this country had for a leader, and the Almighty had given him a tantalizing gaze of the throne…

He should have ran, he should have never left Dagestan...but it appears his destiny was to lead Saranidia. He had his unit behind him, and ahead, the palace.

Already he saw a small scattering of ambassadors and other dignitaries, and Suleiman would be providing much of the security. His unit was heavily armed and experienced, but mostly infantry at the end of the day. Well, it was technically an artillery and anti-tank guerrilla force, but the military parade had been kept modest. The Khan insisted it was mostly symbolic, an insurance and demonstration that he would protect Saranidia, as well as many in his unit that were formerly misfits and considered “problem soldiers”. Judging by the crisp uniforms and prompt march, discipline was enforced spectacularly.

He recognized the guard, and once he dismounted his horse, he would motion for the woman to stand aside and allow people to access the feast and ceremony proper. Officers quickly barked orders as the units gradually splintered off and marched to their posts like a well oiled machine. Suleiman however, was more relaxed. Carrying himself a graceful host, he would address the Selkie and the Scarlet Americans.

“Welcome to Kallipolis,” he began extending his hand to shake, “Vice-Emperor Raven, Ms. Gutierrez, you honour me greatly with your presence. Please, come inside.” Of course, Suleiman would notice the Ambassador Group from the Free Lands, “Ambassadors Leann and Maighdean, Ms. Cumann;” Suleiman would greet the Selkie representatives as well “No doubt we will have the pleasure of speaking later regarding the Guild of Leuda. Or at the very least, comparing the black tea of our respective countries.” he would smile warmly in recollection. “Unfortunately, I have not had the pleasure of visiting the Empire of the Scarlet Eagle...but I was in Cuan during their Spring Festival.”

Mhairi Maighdean of the Tribe of Kildare.
We placed our hands on our hearts as the newly-minted Sultan came to greet us, bowed our heads - a traditional gesture of greeting an Elder, which had been adapted to greeting foreign Heads of State as well.
His Unit 777 had a tremendously good reputation among the SDF-Army, especially when considering the reputation of the rest of the Saranidian Armed Forces, and by looks alone, it seemed to be justified. Still, the air still felt heavy.
Celina especially seemed overjoyed, that the two of them would later speak, pertaining the Merchant Guild's interests, but his words about him having been in Cuan to a Spring Festival did surprise us a bit.
We had no knowledge about that! If the security organs had knowledge of that, though...
Well, something to ask when we returned home.
"I am sure, that we'll have enough matter for conversation with comparing tea alone, but I would be overjoyed to speak with you later about whichever topic we end up with, Suleiman-Sultan.", Celina said with a small bow of her head, smiling, before nodding to Mairin, "And maybe we can also speak about a more formal visit then to a Spring Festival?"
"Of course!", she said, smiling, "Cuan is a lovely city, no question asked, but I am sure, that you'll like Fortham, too!"

[Polish Prussian Commonwealth]

Summer Palace, Kallipolis, Saranidia
Suleiman

---

On the edge of the city, change arrived. It came in the form of four hundred men and women, armed with a variety of rifles, SMGs, and pistols, from both East and West. This was Unit 777, the personal battalion of Suleiman Al-Salek. While ordinarily, they were seen with an absurd amount of anti-tank weapons, today they were, to be honest, on something of a vacation. Just stand around, exercise trigger discipline, shoot anyone dumb enough to start shit, and enjoy some food on the sly.
No drinks, unfortunately.
They knew, though, that if things went right, the coronation would be the start of a new Saranidia...in more ways than one.

Their loyalty was to Suleiman Abdul Aleem ibn-Saleh, of the Clan Al-Salek. Now he rode in front of the unit on a trusty Arabian steed. Cap-a-pie he was dressed in finery befitting of his coronation. His khalat a deep grassy green, and upon his head a spotless-white turban, and he carried himself as a conqueror returning to a triumph, and in many ways he was.

From the fresh faced cowherd who entered the School of Insurgency some years ago, he distinguished himself during the Isratine conflict and as Minister of Intelligence. Adopted, and married into the Khan Clan that ruled Saranidia, he had been vaulted up the political ladder beyond his wildest hopes or dreams...and was rewarded with a choking vine of cynicism. Too easily did the Sisterly Leader heap reward after reward unto him, even in the face of disastrous defeats. He had seen the great need this country had for a leader, and the Almighty had given him a tantalizing gaze of the throne…

He should have ran, he should have never left Dagestan...but it appears his destiny was to lead Saranidia. He had his unit behind him, and ahead, the palace.

Already he saw a small scattering of ambassadors and other dignitaries, and Suleiman would be providing much of the security. His unit was heavily armed and experienced, but mostly infantry at the end of the day. Well, it was technically an artillery and anti-tank guerrilla force, but the military parade had been kept modest. The Khan insisted it was mostly symbolic, an insurance and demonstration that he would protect Saranidia, as well as many in his unit that were formerly misfits and considered “problem soldiers”. Judging by the crisp uniforms and prompt march, discipline was enforced spectacularly.

He recognized the guard, and once he dismounted his horse, he would motion for the woman to stand aside and allow people to access the feast and ceremony proper. Officers quickly barked orders as the units gradually splintered off and marched to their posts like a well oiled machine. Suleiman however, was more relaxed. Carrying himself a graceful host, he would address the Selkie and the Scarlet Americans.

“Welcome to Kallipolis,” he began extending his hand to shake, “Vice-Emperor Raven, Ms. Gutierrez, you honour me greatly with your presence. Please, come inside.” Of course, Suleiman would notice the Ambassador Group from the Free Lands, “Ambassadors Leann and Maighdean, Ms. Cumann;” Suleiman would greet the Selkie representatives as well “No doubt we will have the pleasure of speaking later regarding the Guild of Leuda. Or at the very least, comparing the black tea of our respective countries.” he would smile warmly in recollection. “Unfortunately, I have not had the pleasure of visiting the Empire of the Scarlet Eagle...but I was in Cuan during their Spring Festival.”

The guard seemed to smile, although with her ski mask it seemed hard to tell. After snapping off a quick salute, she stepped aside and left the others to Suleiman.

[Democratic Exodian Territories]

/tagging for post soon

[Munkcestrian Republic]

[OOC note: This post is set after The Scarlet Eagle's post.]

As the father-son duo entered the room, a band began playing the Munkcestrian national anthem. Unfortunately, as specifications had not been provided, this was a heavy metal band and the two Fenwicks could only smile politely as their homeland's anthem was mangled in a way that made those responsible for this look like professionals. Much to the relief of everyone in the room, the band soon finished their performance. Thankfully the band had only been hired to play the Munkcestrian anthem — the Munkcestrians were good allies of the Saranidians and so therefore had been given special treatment — so nobody would suffer further that afternoon. At least, not at the hands of the band.

The three Selkie women had already arrived, wearing garish dresses to display their tribal affiliation. The Scarlets Scarlet people were there too. And there was a woman — not Saranidian, but foreign — guarding the door.

The two — George Fenwick and George Fenwick II, since somehow their names hadn't been mentioned yet — split up. The younger Fenwick, in a move that surprised absolutely nobody, headed over to the Saranidian women, while his father began talking to the Saranidian politicians present at the feast.

[Saranidia]

Finally, they had arrived to the coronation's feast.
Time to get serious, thinks William Raven, a tall man of 2.05m, with black hair and grey eyes, who is wearing for the occasion something different than the usual business suit with a red neck tie everyone is accustomed to see him wearing back home. Instead, he is dressed in black tie attire (minus the vest who his resting on his arm), with a red-wine cummerbund and pants, as well as a black bolo tie with a silver horse head.
At his side, his assistant, Miss Tatiana Gutierrez, wearing a black, ankle-length skirt, a white blouse with a sleeveless vest worn on top of it, and a black bowtie. A oair of black boots completes the ensemble. Her long, dark hair is held back in a simple ponytail.

As they stand in the hall where the feast will take place, the both of them take some time to detail the other guests present, spotting the Selkie Ambassadors from afar, but not moving towards them. If Raven had to say a single word concerning this event, it would be: complicated. Whether he would be referring to how the New Sultan had been chosen, or what he was supposed to do here, nothing was simple when it came to this event. The best he could do with Tatiana, for now, was to keep waiting, and see what would happen...

Mhairi Maighdean of the Tribe of Kildare.
Saranidia.
To say, that this place was... 'interesting' was to say, that water was wet: Technically correct, but it kind-of missed the point.
Anyway, the ceremony had been short, a guy named Suleyman, a foreigner, who apparently trained for some revolution or the other, decided to stick around and got washed up the ladder to become the new Sultan of Saranidia, or successor to the post.
It wasn't quite clear.
Same with who that guy was to begin with.
Still, we were at the feast celebrating this occasion. We, that means Ambassador Group 4 and a representative of the Merchant Guild, were here to speak with the local elites and with foreign elites and to represent the Free Lands and the Selkie. We were three, myself, Mairin Leann of the Tribe of Monaghan, a pleasant blonde and professional diplomat, football fan to the core, and Celina Cumann of the Tribe of Waterford, a good merchant and better representative of the Guild and her interests.
We were easily distinguishable by the colourful fur dresses, which we wore, the Geansai, of course in our respective tribes' colours.
Before the actual feast started, we were apparently missing the man of the hour, Suleiman himself, or at least we haven't spotted him yet, we three stood together and made last preparations, spoke about the last things we needed to take care of.
Celina's primary objective would be to speak with Suleiman, to open the market for products of the Free Lands and the merchant vessels of the Guild, while Mairin and I would be... around.
It was a plan.
Better then nothing.
The air was heavy. Something was coming. The question now was... what?

Both would be blocked from entering by the aforementioned soldier.

An-Al Saranidi Royal Guard Officer says “please let them in”

[Saranidia]

[OOC note: This post is set after The Scarlet Eagle's post.]

As the father-son duo entered the room, a band began playing the Munkcestrian national anthem. Unfortunately, as specifications had not been provided, this was a heavy metal band and the two Fenwicks could only smile politely as their homeland's anthem was mangled in a way that made those responsible for this look like professionals. Much to the relief of everyone in the room, the band soon finished their performance. Thankfully the band had only been hired to play the Munkcestrian anthem — the Munkcestrians were good allies of the Saranidians and so therefore had been given special treatment — so nobody would suffer further that afternoon. At least, not at the hands of the band.

The three Selkie women had already arrived, wearing garish dresses to display their tribal affiliation. The Scarlets Scarlet people were there too. And there was a woman — not Saranidian, but foreign — guarding the door.

The two — George Fenwick and George Fenwick II, since somehow their names hadn't been mentioned yet — split up. The younger Fenwick, in a move that surprised absolutely nobody, headed over to the Saranidian women, while his father began talking to the Saranidian politicians present at the feast.

The Al-Saranidi Prime Minister says “we are planning to create an Al-Saranidi Foreign Legion to allow citizens of allied nations such as the Munkcestrian Republic and Dagestan to join.
Also could you move away from permanent slavery at say that after enslaved people are in that state for 10 years they can be freed and their owners compensated.”

[Saranidia]

[OOC note: This post is set after The Scarlet Eagle's post.]

As the father-son duo entered the room, a band began playing the Munkcestrian national anthem. Unfortunately, as specifications had not been provided, this was a heavy metal band and the two Fenwicks could only smile politely as their homeland's anthem was mangled in a way that made those responsible for this look like professionals. Much to the relief of everyone in the room, the band soon finished their performance. Thankfully the band had only been hired to play the Munkcestrian anthem — the Munkcestrians were good allies of the Saranidians and so therefore had been given special treatment — so nobody would suffer further that afternoon. At least, not at the hands of the band.

The three Selkie women had already arrived, wearing garish dresses to display their tribal affiliation. The Scarlets Scarlet people were there too. And there was a woman — not Saranidian, but foreign — guarding the door.

The two — George Fenwick and George Fenwick II, since somehow their names hadn't been mentioned yet — split up. The younger Fenwick, in a move that surprised absolutely nobody, headed over to the Saranidian women, while his father began talking to the Saranidian politicians present at the feast.

A 17 year old Al-Saranidi noblewoman and General’s daughter with lands in both Saranidia and Azadistan named Maryam Qureshi asks “your father is the Lord-President now, so what do you do for a living?”

[Munkcestrian Republic]

The Al-Saranidi Prime Minister says “we are planning to create an Al-Saranidi Foreign Legion to allow citizens of allied nations such as the Munkcestrian Republic and Dagestan to join.
Also could you move away from permanent slavery at say that after enslaved people are in that state for 10 years they can be freed and their owners compensated.”

"It wouldn't be my place to infringe upon the private property rights of Munkcestrian citizens, I'm afraid."

A 17 year old Al-Saranidi noblewoman and General’s daughter with lands in both Saranidia and Azadistan named Maryam Qureshi asks “your father is the Lord-President now, so what do you do for a living?”

"Any woman willin- oh, right, what. Anything I want. "

[Saranidia]

The Al-Saranidi Prime Minister says “we are planning to create an Al-Saranidi Foreign Legion to allow citizens of allied nations such as the Munkcestrian Republic and Dagestan to join.
Also could you move away from permanent slavery at say that after enslaved people are in that state for 10 years they can be freed and their owners compensated.”

"It wouldn't be my place to infringe upon the private property rights of Munkcestrian citizens, I'm afraid."

A 17 year old Al-Saranidi noblewoman and General’s daughter with lands in both Saranidia and Azadistan named Maryam Qureshi asks “your father is the Lord-President now, so what do you do for a living?”

"Any woman willin- oh, right, what. Anything I want. "

“Well the Al-Saranidi Foreign Legion need brave, intelligent young gentlemen such as yourself to lead it’s platoons and companies as officers. It will improve your suitability in my father’s eyes.
Have you ever been conscripted?”

[Arumdaum]

Suleiman has been named the successor to the throne of Saranidia.
This is the feast celebrating his coronation.

The President of Arumdaum arrived to the feast.

"Wow, the food looks delicious," he said.

[Munkcestrian Republic]

Suleiman has been named the successor to the throne of Saranidia.
This is the feast celebrating his coronation.

The President of Arumdaum arrived to the feast.

"Wow, the food looks delicious," he said.

"What are you doing here?" asked Lord President George Fenwick.

[Polish Prussian Commonwealth]

Both would be blocked from entering by the aforementioned soldier.

An-Al Saranidi Royal Guard Officer says “please let them in”

The woman was already gone, having moved from the door when Suleiman arrived.

[Munkcestrian Republic]

"It wouldn't be my place to infringe upon the private property rights of Munkcestrian citizens, I'm afraid."

"Any woman willin- oh, right, what. Anything I want. "

“Well the Al-Saranidi Foreign Legion need brave, intelligent young gentlemen such as yourself to lead it’s platoons and companies as officers. It will improve your suitability in my father’s eyes.
Have you ever been conscripted?”

George Fenwick II was indeed very attractive, and many women had proposed to him upon seeing him for the first time. But that did not make Qureshi's forwardness any less shocking.

"my suitability in your father's eyes what—" he blurted out before clearing his throat. "And yes, sort of."

[Saranidia]

“Well the Al-Saranidi Foreign Legion need brave, intelligent young gentlemen such as yourself to lead it’s platoons and companies as officers. It will improve your suitability in my father’s eyes.
Have you ever been conscripted?”

George Fenwick II was indeed very attractive, and many women had proposed to him upon seeing him for the first time. But that did not make Qureshi's forwardness any less shocking.

"my suitability in your father's eyes what—" he blurted out before clearing his throat. "And yes, sort of."

“I am sure a man of your lineage, intelligence, political leadership experience and experience as a conscript would make you a good Foreign Legion Colonel.
And yes I do think you would make a good husband. I will give you time to consider joining as a Lieutenant, Captain, Ensign etc.” Said Maryam.

[Munkcestrian Republic]

George Fenwick II was indeed very attractive, and many women had proposed to him upon seeing him for the first time. But that did not make Qureshi's forwardness any less shocking.

"my suitability in your father's eyes what—" he blurted out before clearing his throat. "And yes, sort of."

“I am sure a man of your lineage, intelligence, political leadership experience and experience as a conscript would make you a good Foreign Legion Colonel.
And yes I do think you would make a good husband. I will give you time to consider joining as a Lieutenant, Captain, Ensign etc.” Said Maryam.

His grandfather worked on the railways. His father, the Lord President, had not even had an indoor toilet growing up. As for his mother, well, the less said in polite society about her the better. George Fenwick II's lineage was not particularly impressive.

His intelligence, of course, was an entirely different story — he was a Fenwick, and was therefore incredibly intelligent. The family's intelligence was, after all, how his father had managed to become Lord President from such humble beginnings.

And he had not actually served as a conscript. His service had been deferred so that he could continue his education, and when he had been called up the assassination attempt on his father which resulted in him temporarily serving as Lord President — the aforementioned leadership experience — cancelled his service before he could begin.

[Democratic Exodian Territories]

Kallpolis, Saranidia

"I don't bloody like this one bit. We're in the middle of a terror-sponsoring nation that’s almost completely hostile to us... meeting a leader that’s considered a terrorist, a warlord, and an anti-Exodian combatant even up until now- and here’s his damn Peace Sentinel goons, coming up the lane with enough damn firepower to bulldoze Timpara Bay.”

Major Joseph Unwin of the Exodian Secret Service grumbled out loud as he steered Carpathian-gray Jaguar executive sedan with black-tinted, thickened windows, gunmetal gray rims, and a pair of Exodian flags flapping on the edges of its hood and trunk into the coronation hall’s parking lot. The vehicle, outfitted recently and reinforced with armor and protective measures in case “shit hit the fan”, still felt a little sparse to its 3 users with its relative lack of personnel or even motorcycle escorts.

“Just mind your manners and let me do the talking. Focus on what you usually do but please, please take care not to piss off everyone around us, Joseph. This isn’t the locker room.”
A prim voice answered him from the backseat, as the Exodian State Ministry’s Director of Foreign Affairs Section 6, Nasrin Abboud tapped on the armrest impatiently. “We’d be missing out on quite an opportunity if we didn’t come.”

“Any words from you before we go, Hana?” Joseph called from the driver’s seat.

“None, I guess, so far. Feel like if I say something I’ll be even more nervous.” Lieutenant Hana Morton, also with the ESS spoke up from next to Nasrin. Her large sunglasses and polite, stoic expression hid most emotion.

“You’ll do fine, just focus on duties and follow me.” Joseph reassured her, before retrieving his gear and opening the door.

“That’s a damn far cry from what just came out of your mouth.” Nasrin snarkly commented as Hana opened the passenger door for her.

With that, the Exodians exited the Jaguar and made towards the coronation hall.

Joseph's British-cut, single-breasted slate-gray suit rustled in the desert wind, but the large-frame sunglasses perched on his face didn't move an inch. A P2S-D compact semiautomatic sat in a low-hanging, open black synthetic holster on his matching trousers, and his padded vest concealed several more defensive armaments and personal body armor- while an LAC-SHi assault carbine and a UPDW machine pistol on slings rested behind his suit. A navy-blue tie, white dress shirt, and spit-shined oxfords accented the look, along with minor dark stubble and a pale complexion. Obviously paranoid in body manner, he frequently glanced around and scanned his environment.

On the other side, Hana wore her padded, slate-gray leather jacket buttoned, though an imprint of a tactical vest could be seen under it while her patterned, no-collar light-pink blouse covered her bust. Bell-bottomed trouser pants cut right below the knee completed her pantsuit along with a leather belt (a P2S-D in a connected holster on it) and black knee boots. Light brown hair, cut short, fell in a frizzy mop around her pale face and circular sunglasses. A 12-gauge sawed-off semi-auto and an RFPDW hung around her body on slings, further solidifying her status as heavily armed.

In the center of the group was Nasrin- shorter than both of her bodyguards by a head but a bit taller with her stilletto heels, she wore a navy blazer, and a frilly cream-colored blouse under it. Most of her dark, well-kept brunette hair was covered by a cream-colored hijab in the al-Amira style, though, in a rather provocative move for a diplomat (but probably not uncommon for a Western citizen), still showed a bit of said hair in front of it as a sort of statement. Olive skin and wide, dark eyes rested behind tortoiseshell thick-framed glasses.
With a lengthy career involving the WA and the Exodian Ministry of State despite her young age, Nasrin carried herself with confidence, despite being a high-value target- in a nation of questionable civil status and violent tendencies, nonetheless- and didn’t bat an eye. If she was nervous, she certainly didn’t show it, carrying herself in a manner comparable to a boss walking into a room of her subordinates.

[Danceria]

Summer Palace Grand Hall
Suleiman

---

The Persian man would bow in kind. “I am afraid I am no Sultan.” he would admit. “At least, not yet. I am a military man for the most part, and occasional cabinet minister whenever the Sisterly Leader deems to assemble such. You need not break the bank over myself.” In all honesty, the young Khan would prefer an informal gathering of plain and honest folk than all the courts in Saranidia. He was a cowherd, and still viewed himself as such, just in a fancier outfit. There he saw the Munkcestrians. The ambassadors would no doubt notice, or possibly sympathize with the slight change and forcing of a smile. These were not people Suleiman held in high esteem.

The Munkcestrians were notorious womanizers, and the Lord-President appeared to utilize his “good ally of Saranidia” status to apparently boss guests around. While not exactly a man known for politics or conversation, Suleiman would utilize both his own status, and his charisma with the other dignitaries to ensure that Lord-President Fetwick would be polite. “Lord President Fetwick…” Suelieman began, “I do believe that is the President of Arumdaum, Kim Jae-gyeong, who if nothing else is complementing the chefs.” he would gesture for the Arumdaun President to join the other foreign diplomats and dignitaries. “There is a side of the table reserved for diplomats, of course, that is where you all will be seated.” he would explain politely. “Do not worry, Lord-President Fetwick, I will be discussing the finer details of politics with you and the cabinet after the celebration.” The Persian commander would then lean in, after ensuring his hand was shaken politely by the Munkcestrian leader. “Ensure both you and your son behave appropriately.” Concluding with a beaming grin. “Now, on the subject of food and festivities itself... “ he would shepard the dignitaries to their place in the feast, and where by request, Suleiman would be nearby. “One thing I have come to appreciate in Cuan is a good breakfast. Both the food, the atmosphere, and the company would be sadly absent in a formal affair. I do not, of course mean to belittle any of you, I just simply came up as a cowherd from Dagestan Danceria to...well, this.”

Indeed, while Suleiman wasn’t technically the heir, he wouldn’t waste an opportunity to cement his own political clout on ability rather than status. Plus, social theory was such a fun thing to practice!

[Polish Prussian Commonwealth]

Summer Palace
Silently, the men of Unit 777 took their places. Some took position on the roof, others at the entrances, still others at the helipad, and some changed into formal uniforms and took their positions along the hall.
All of them were mostly ignorant of the politics surrounding what 'Big Boss', as they called Suleiman, was doing-but they did know that whatever it was, it wouldn't be good for Saranidia.

And they were all fine with it.

Each and every man had a bone to pick with their country, whether it was suspicion over how often White Nationalists appeared to pop up, or the loss of family/friends. In the case of two of the most high-ranking officers, though, it was much simpler than that.
Put simply, both were Prussian-Poles. And if Saranidia had the hubris to fight the Twin Eagles of Prussia and Poland, who were they to deny?

---

Marie, now in a formal dress uniform, took up her position besides the large double-doors. She groused about the skirt-damned thing was too short for her liking, and God help her if a strong wind came by that open window...but at least the white sash across her chest looked nice, though, and the M1903 Springfield slung over her back even came with a M1905 bayonet and scabbard.
Of course, she wasn't alone-the hall was lined with her comrades, dressed in uniforms evocative of those worn by the Great Powers prior to the First World War, and armed mostly with bolt-actions and bayonets. Then there was the group on the roof, led by the other Prussian-Pole, Stanislaus Zulinski(or Abu al-Fasiq, if you were south of the Med), armed with modern equipment(including anti-material rifles and surface-to-air missiles), and the reserve-again, armed with modern equipment and vehicles...although getting a BMP-2 to fit in the hall might be a little difficult.