St. Peadrus MacCallion Exchange Program REBOOTED (IC)

[Folaisia]

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OOC Thread

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5:00 PM
Road to the Hostel
Grangemouth, Dalmashiel, Folaisia

A bus inscribed with the logo for St. Peadrus MacCallion High School left the International Airport with a bundle of students originating from afar, all of them wearing their casual clothing. As resonant as the mellow sunset from the windows, anticipation for a fun and interesting experience at a school unfamiliar to one's own memory echoed among the students. Passing by the mellow and radiant sights of Grangemouth and its landscape, the vehicle hummed as they headed to the Gallagher-Blair Hostel, their residence within the country sponsored by their school. It would be among the first set of mementos that they would keep with them after the program is done.

Occasionally, the bus driver, the cheerful, kind-hearted female of 52, would converse with them with a voice that boomed throughout the floor; even further, her laughter has made them quirk, similar to that of a typical drunk Folaisian. At this time, however, she remains silent, presenting the mutual opportunity for the foreign newcomers to form bonds with each other.

[Vrijstaat Limburg]

Dominicus Schmeetz
GRANGEMOUTH INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
1700 LOCAL TIME

Niek gazed out of the large window besides him. He could hear and feel the engine of the bus starting up, and tried to think of the last time he'd been in a bus like this one. Public transport had become a scarcity, a mere relic of the past, after the war for independence. The new Limburgs army needed its transports, and thus many buses and automobiles were commandeered by the troops, often without any payments or reimbursements. After the war, the factories that still produced cars privately were ambushed by a set of economic sanctions from neighboring countries, and so the governor-general had to step in and nationalise the failing businesses. The lack of cars and buses wasn't something that irritated Niek, though: The roads were much quieter, and there was a distinct lack of pollution. Any physically capable person could hop on a bike and enjoy the hilly Limburgian countryside. Those that claimed to 'need' cars were either too lazy or too caught up in their senseless cosmopolitan admiration for anything automobile, so Dominiek thought.

The longer he looked out the window, the more weary he became. He could feel his eyes closing occasionally, a result of a long flight with a cheap company. The Schmeetzes were "rich" as far as Limburgs wealth went, but if compared to any other country in western Europe, their income would be considered middle-class at best. The airline's "economy class" offered up a luxurious lack of legroom, as well as obnoxiously noisy co-passengers. Dominiek couldn't get any sleep on the way to Folaisia, but he was determined to stay awake till the evening. Falling asleep just like that would be a sign of indiscipline and ingratitude, and it would simply be impolite to get some shuteye, even if 5pm in Folaisia was about 10pm back home. So, with great determination, the young Limburger forced his eyes open, and before he could concentrate on the beautiful nature that surrounded Grangemouth, he fell asleep.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

Khalid Ali Khan plots his rise to power dreamily on the bus. Saying “Salam”‘to the men and “hi cutie” to the women.

[Danceria]

Larsa Solidor
Gran Archades Intl. Airport
~0600hrs, Local Time

---

It was a dreary autumn morning, the urban nerve of international commerce glittered slightly under the gentle flaking of rain. As far as the princeling was concerned, it was far too early and too dreary to be flying. Yet he trusted the pilots of the small jet, as his elder brother-the esteemed Prince of the Ancient and Austere House of Solidor-had placed his trust in him.

Yet in spite of such grandiose plans, the execution was done with little pomp and circumstance. The sixteen year old lad surveyed the transition between dreary downpour to resplendent dawn with a scowl, and buried himself in quiet activities. There will be no servants of which to aid him, and his stature as a Prince among Princes was barely noted in St. Peadrus. Something that Larsa wholeheartedly welcomed.

Sleep would be sporadic, as if to preemptively combat jet-lag, and much of the flight was kept in silent meditation. He was at a crossroads in his life, and though priding himself on mathematical understanding...he found himself reluctant to take on his brother's place while his ambitions soared ever higher. Prince Larsa was finding that it was easier to follow someone else's passion rather than his own.

Yet what passions could be unearthed in this new adventure? Only time and the Divine could tell...

[Polish Prussian Commonwealth]

Otto Knight A-C-1
GRANGEMOUTH INT. AIRPORT
1700 HOURS
The familiar old tune of I vow to thee, my Country played through Otto's cheap plastic earbuds as he rifled through his bag, ensuring he had all of his possessions.
2 rolls of toilet paper, a small, thin, laptop(plus charger), various books he would need(including his most prized possession; a copy of The Outlaws, by Ernst von Salomon), pens, pencils, his multitool, (tightly packed)clothing, 2 tins of corned beef, a tin of lemonade powder, a reusable mess kit, 1 Imperial Army 24-hour combat ration(with a flameless heating element), a canteen topped off with distilled water, and a small bundle of letters from his sister, Otulissa, as well as a few pictures of her-mainly her standing on top of or in front of tanks, and occasionally images of her platoon as well.

In short, the necessities of life for a cadet.

He had, of course, switched into the uniform of the school he was liasoning with beforehand. However, his original, British-style, uniform was in his pack, just in case.

He zipped up his bag, and stared outside for awhile.

He was no stranger to the wild-cadet school ensured that. Every other weekend, the cadets would participate in wilderness survival and navigation training in the massive deciduous forests Duchy A-A-1 was known for. Still, he had always been so focused on where his next meal would come from, or how to get out of the woods, that he never spent much time to look around and enjoy the scenery. Now that he was on a bus and viewing it from a distance, he supposed they looked pretty enough; the issue was that it was no use of a man trying to guess whether or not the berries he was examining would make him shit his guts out.

He turned his eyes away from the window and took stock of his soon-to-be classmates. A varied lot, apparently, including an arrogant-looking Arab who strutted around like a peacock, to whom he applied the point of his elbow to the ribs as he passed along, as well as a harsh, but quiet "Keep your damned pecker in yer damned pants!"...

Larsa Solidor
Gran Archades Intl. Airport
~0600hrs, Local Time

---

It was a dreary autumn morning, the urban nerve of international commerce glittered slightly under the gentle flaking of rain. As far as the princeling was concerned, it was far too early and too dreary to be flying. Yet he trusted the pilots of the small jet, as his elder brother-the esteemed Prince of the Ancient and Austere House of Solidor-had placed his trust in him.

Yet in spite of such grandiose plans, the execution was done with little pomp and circumstance. The sixteen year old lad surveyed the transition between dreary downpour to resplendent dawn with a scowl, and buried himself in quiet activities. There will be no servants of which to aid him, and his stature as a Prince among Princes was barely noted in St. Peadrus. Something that Larsa wholeheartedly welcomed.

Sleep would be sporadic, as if to preemptively combat jet-lag, and much of the flight was kept in silent meditation. He was at a crossroads in his life, and though priding himself on mathematical understanding...he found himself reluctant to take on his brother's place while his ambitions soared ever higher. Prince Larsa was finding that it was easier to follow someone else's passion rather than his own.

Yet what passions could be unearthed in this new adventure? Only time and the Divine could tell...

...And a Dancerian.

The young lad coughed and tapped him on the shoulder.

" 'Scuse me." he whispered. "You mind if I sit next you ya?"

[Camelone]

Athelhart Kin-Cenfrith
Grangemouth, Dalmashiel, Folaisia
5 PM
For Athelhart the flight over to Folaisia wasn't that bad at all, the High Kingdom of Camelone was rather close to this nation so the flight was quick and painless. Honestly if he wanted to he could have taken a boat over and still showed up to school on time but he could see the reasoning to make things easier for their hosts, even if they were hosts that he had no voice in the matter of imposing himself on. Yet there was no need to cause any frustration for these people yet, they haven't done anything disrespectful or stupid though he highly doubted that would last for long, on the flip side though seeing the poorly controlled teasa squirm under some good old fashion Camelonean insults will be hilarious. Teasa from what he has heard were generally a more soft-skinned people compared to the emotionally hardened and jolly Camelonean stock, anyone who has to hide their emotions behind a facade of control wasn't worth his respect. Laugh and be jolly at insults and challenges, why else care about anything else, fight when you want to fight, drink when you want to drink, eat when you want to eat, sing when you want to sing, but obey the conventions when you have to and bring honor to the family. Athelhart pushed some air out at that last thought quietly as he sat on the bus, bring honor to his family, from what he can gather they're ashamed of him and for a Camelonean that stung, it stung like nothing else he could think of. Family was everything in Camelone, the High Kingdom was a natural outgrowth of the family itself and even though he did not go against the faith or the folk he still felt that burden of shame fall upon him. It's been on his mind ever since he was told that he would be leaving his hometown, something that he knew was not normal. If they think some teasa school was going to change him well they were horribly mistaken, he'll show them, he'll be the way he has always been, nothing will change him. He is a Camelonean.

Though all these thoughts were raging around Athelhart's mind he still couldn't help to pick up on a few things around him, for one he knew for a fact he stuck out like a sore thumb, he had his normal clothes on because his school uniform was in his bags. Trousers, undershirt, and a tunic with a scarcely jeweled decorated belt and boots, a flat cap was pulled over his face with his cloak rolled up next to him and his family brooch placed in his cap for safe keeping. Compared to those around him he knew he stuck out and he was silently proud of it, even if he was here by the shame his family saw he will make his folk proud by representing Camelone as the beautiful nation it is compared to the rest of the world. He also picked up on the low hum of chatter, some he could pick up others he couldn't though he couldn't help pushing some air out again at the attempts of one of the guys to flirt, at least he had the courtesy to greet him. Though the opportunity was to good to pass up, pulling his flat cap down a little bit he called out to the dude.

"Ey, wannabe prince charming." He started to get the guys attention "I don't think the lass' want to be bothered with that nonsense at the moment. Let them adjust first before you try to get into their damn pants." The Camelonean accent was present, though he did have a heavy rural accent on top of that, but he knew he was clear enough to get the point across and the smirk on his face was giant as waited for the reaction, seeing if this was a soft teasa or not.

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

Verity Nicholas,
5:00 PM
Road to the Hostel
Grangemouth, Dalmashiel, Folaisia


Verity decided before she'd entered the bus sure that she'd secured a seat toward the back of this bus. This wasn't out of any shyness, rather, she do this so she might have an easier time surveying and sizing up the other students on the bus as inconspicuously as possible.

Khalid Ali Khan walks slowly to the school with his head held high.

“Salaam” ,he says to most people he meets though to attractive young women he says “hi cutie.”

As she made her way to the back of the bus, she saw an arab looking kid that had been giving an arabic greeting to the boys ahead of her as they walked based him, when she finally got close to him, his greating for her was different.

"Hi cutie" he said.

Still walking, Verity turned to the boy and gave him a nasty stare, before continuing past him toward the back. She also caught herself clenching her fist at her side, before she quickly released it.

She thought to herself "I'm only just getting on this bus and I've already been cat called." It's not that she was uncomfortable being complimented for her looks, she just hated it as a greeting to someone you're not friendly with. Calling a peer, not even someone significantly younger than you, a 'cutie', like this was incredibly demeaning, some might even consider a statement such as that to be fighting words, she had definitely done so before. Though in a foreign land, she intended remain on her best behaviour, for the foreseeable future.

Athelhart Kin-Cenfrith
Grangemouth, Dalmashiel, Folaisia
5 PM
For Athelhart the flight over to Folaisia wasn't that bad at all, the High Kingdom of Camelone was rather close to this nation so the flight was quick and painless. Honestly if he wanted to he could have taken a boat over and still showed up to school on time but he could see the reasoning to make things easier for their hosts, even if they were hosts that he had no voice in the matter of imposing himself on. Yet there was no need to cause any frustration for these people yet, they haven't done anything disrespectful or stupid though he highly doubted that would last for long, on the flip side though seeing the poorly controlled teasa squirm under some good old fashion Camelonean insults will be hilarious. Teasa from what he has heard were generally a more soft-skinned people compared to the emotionally hardened and jolly Camelonean stock, anyone who has to hide their emotions behind a facade of control wasn't worth his respect. Laugh and be jolly at insults and challenges, why else care about anything else, fight when you want to fight, drink when you want to drink, eat when you want to eat, sing when you want to sing, but obey the conventions when you have to and bring honor to the family. Athelhart pushed some air out at that last thought quietly as he sat on the bus, bring honor to his family, from what he can gather they're ashamed of him and for a Camelonean that stung, it stung like nothing else he could think of. Family was everything in Camelone, the High Kingdom was a natural outgrowth of the family itself and even though he did not go against the faith or the folk he still felt that burden of shame fall upon him. It's been on his mind ever since he was told that he would be leaving his hometown, something that he knew was not normal. If they think some teasa school was going to change him well they were horribly mistaken, he'll show them, he'll be the way he has always been, nothing will change him. He is a Camelonean.

Though all these thoughts were raging around Athelhart's mind he still couldn't help to pick up on a few things around him, for one he knew for a fact he stuck out like a sore thumb, he had his normal clothes on because his school uniform was in his bags. Trousers, undershirt, and a tunic with a scarcely jeweled decorated belt and boots, a flat cap was pulled over his face with his cloak rolled up next to him and his family brooch placed in his cap for safe keeping. Compared to those around him he knew he stuck out and he was silently proud of it, even if he was here by the shame his family saw he will make his folk proud by representing Camelone as the beautiful nation it is compared to the rest of the world. He also picked up on the low hum of chatter, some he could pick up others he couldn't though he couldn't help pushing some air out again at the attempts of one of the guys to flirt, at least he had the courtesy to greet him. Though the opportunity was to good to pass up, pulling his flat cap down a little bit he called out to the dude.

"Ey, wannabe prince charming." He started to get the guys attention "I don't think the lass' want to be bothered with that nonsense at the moment. Let them adjust first before you try to get into their damn pants." The Camelonean accent was present, though he did have a heavy rural accent on top of that, but he knew he was clear enough to get the point across and the smirk on his face was giant as waited for the reaction, seeing if this was a soft teasa or not.

Soon after the comment, however, a boy in a rather feudal looking garb spoke up.

She appreciated that he recognized the cat calls were inappropriate, for one. Perhaps it was her own biases clouding her interpretation of his words, his accent was unmistakably of rural flavor, she didn't like the paternalistic undertone that as a 'lass' she needed to uniquely 'adjust', to this environment. Nonetheless, it didn't stop her from uttering a quick "thanks" with a smile in his direction as she made her way to the back.

No so long after she sat down, the bus started rolling away on its journey.

Dominicus Schmeetz
GRANGEMOUTH INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
1700 LOCAL TIME

Niek gazed out of the large window besides him. He could hear and feel the engine of the bus starting up, and tried to think of the last time he'd been in a bus like this one. Public transport had become a scarcity, a mere relic of the past, after the war for independence. The new Limburgs army needed its transports, and thus many buses and automobiles were commandeered by the troops, often without any payments or reimbursements. After the war, the factories that still produced cars privately were ambushed by a set of economic sanctions from neighboring countries, and so the governor-general had to step in and nationalise the failing businesses. The lack of cars and buses wasn't something that irritated Niek, though: The roads were much quieter, and there was a distinct lack of pollution. Any physically capable person could hop on a bike and enjoy the hilly Limburgian countryside. Those that claimed to 'need' cars were either too lazy or too caught up in their senseless cosmopolitan admiration for anything automobile, so Dominiek thought.

The longer he looked out the window, the more weary he became. He could feel his eyes closing occasionally, a result of a long flight with a cheap company. The Schmeetzes were "rich" as far as Limburgs wealth went, but if compared to any other country in western Europe, their income would be considered middle-class at best. The airline's "economy class" offered up a luxurious lack of legroom, as well as obnoxiously noisy co-passengers. Dominiek couldn't get any sleep on the way to Folaisia, but he was determined to stay awake till the evening. Falling asleep just like that would be a sign of indiscipline and ingratitude, and it would simply be impolite to get some shuteye, even if 5pm in Folaisia was about 10pm back home. So, with great determination, the young Limburger forced his eyes open, and before he could concentrate on the beautiful nature that surrounded Grangemouth, he fell asleep.

She observed one, wispy haired boy, peering out his window, who, judging by his head bobbing, was fighting a hard battle with sleep that he soon decisively lost.

She also observed a blonde haired boy take a look up and down the bus at the other students, before deciding to get up and make his way towards setting next to a brown haired boy.

She took out her phone, to take some notes, filling a habit she'd picked up since 9th grade of keeping a dossier on everyone she met. You didn't want to give anyone the same compliment, or insult, twice, if you could avoid it.

It was less than ideal that she had to try to keep track of these students without knowing their names, that'd wait until she spoke with them or attendence. Not to worry in the meantime she'd give them nicknames, that'd she'd make sure to keep to her self,

Firstly, she nicknamed the arab boy that cat called her, "Backpfeifengesicht", while she had yet to learn german, she was aware of a few useful compound words that expressed feelings more efficiently than english.

The sleepy wispy haired boy she nicknamed "cotton" on account of that hair.

The blonde haired boy, she nicknamed "goldilocks", and the brown haired boy he went to sit next to "chestnut" both on account of their hair colors.

Satisfied with those nicknames, she kept quietly observing the students as the bus headed on.

[AHSCA]

Momiji had been here in Folaisia about a month now, she'd been staying with her teacher to help her sort of acclimate to the different life here in the country. Odd it might be for a young female to stay with her female teacher but that was just stark differences in cultures from many. Anyway now that school was about to begin her teacher was set to return home and she join the others in the hostel and go to school. She was ready for this!...she hoped...Anyway riding the bus she found herself gazing at the passing scenery, coping between feelings of anticipation, anxiety, homesickness, eagerness, fear, joy, excitement. Uuugh was it the bus ride or her storm of nerves making her queasy right now? Motor vehicles certainly foreign to her from the tropical islands where everyone (except EMS) walked everywhere and used boats to traverse between islands. Honestly the boat ride to the country was suddenly seeming more preferable than what she was about. She clutched to her bag, unsure of how to really talk to anyone.

Momiji was sometimes shy sometimes social, she did work her sister's bar back home which meant she was outgoing but even so it took her some time to warm up to people and being around this many foreigners was just odd. Where she was from, Torrii, was a small coastal village but the sailors were usually other islanders not total strangers.

[Danceria]

Larsa Solidor
Grangemouth Intl. Airport
~1700hrs

---

Larsa could understand why and why not he was invested in public schools. Between the Arab immediately thinking himself a Cassanova, and the girl he was Cassanova-ing a brunette haired lass that observed as well as him. The Saracen's sweet-talking was refuted by a Camelonean, who carried himself alike the bluer-collared Dancerians. Sadly, those who were born into the aristocracy had to carry themselves with reservation around those whom they dislike, preferring their resources rather than their honor. Though it was a refreshing change from the forced politeness, mutual social realpolitik, or the outright arrogant.

" 'Scuse me." he whispered. "You mind if I sit next you ya?"

The question was simple enough, and answered in kind. He stood up and spoke with a receded tenor, "Go ahead." Larsa nodded towards the newcomer's book. "You seem to be still reading." The flight was longer for him than the newcomer, obviously, and had devoured and re-devoured a few of the thicker books and texbooks assigned to him. He was looking forward to the library, and sampling the entirety of what was available. A shift from the window seat to the inner one, if only to keep an eye on the úan-en-outremer and any initial confrontations. While he hoped there not to be any altercations...Moltke and Murphy made laws dissuading optimism. Besides, the wisp of a black haired lass he was sitting next to-that Larsa was reasonably certain was an Ahscan-seemed rather uncomfortable. Motion sickness? Nerves? She seemed nice enough lass, but he didn't want to follow in the Saracen's footsteps the first day. What was it the Camelonean said? Something about adjusting to nonsense before adding one's own...?

Regardless, he turned to the blond haired newcomer and decided to break the ice. "I'm Larsa." he began with a polite smile. "...What's your name? Where are you from?"

[Camelone]

Verity Nicholas,
5:00 PM
Road to the Hostel
Grangemouth, Dalmashiel, Folaisia


Verity decided before she'd entered the bus sure that she'd secured a seat toward the back of this bus. This wasn't out of any shyness, rather, she do this so she might have an easier time surveying and sizing up the other students on the bus as inconspicuously as possible.

Khalid Ali Khan walks slowly to the school with his head held high.

“Salaam” ,he says to most people he meets though to attractive young women he says “hi cutie.”

As she made her way to the back of the bus, she saw an arab looking kid that had been giving an arabic greeting to the boys ahead of her as they walked based him, when she finally got close to him, his greating for her was different.

"Hi cutie" he said.

Still walking, Verity turned to the boy and gave him a nasty stare, before continuing past him toward the back. She also caught herself clenching her fist at her side, before she quickly released it.

She thought to herself "I'm only just getting on this bus and I've already been cat called." It's not that she was uncomfortable being complimented for her looks, she just hated it as a greeting to someone you're not friendly with. Calling a peer, not even someone significantly younger than you, a 'cutie', like this was incredibly demeaning, some might even consider a statement such as that to be fighting words, she had definitely done so before. Though in a foreign land, she intended remain on her best behaviour, for the foreseeable future.

Athelhart Kin-Cenfrith
Grangemouth, Dalmashiel, Folaisia
5 PM
For Athelhart the flight over to Folaisia wasn't that bad at all, the High Kingdom of Camelone was rather close to this nation so the flight was quick and painless. Honestly if he wanted to he could have taken a boat over and still showed up to school on time but he could see the reasoning to make things easier for their hosts, even if they were hosts that he had no voice in the matter of imposing himself on. Yet there was no need to cause any frustration for these people yet, they haven't done anything disrespectful or stupid though he highly doubted that would last for long, on the flip side though seeing the poorly controlled teasa squirm under some good old fashion Camelonean insults will be hilarious. Teasa from what he has heard were generally a more soft-skinned people compared to the emotionally hardened and jolly Camelonean stock, anyone who has to hide their emotions behind a facade of control wasn't worth his respect. Laugh and be jolly at insults and challenges, why else care about anything else, fight when you want to fight, drink when you want to drink, eat when you want to eat, sing when you want to sing, but obey the conventions when you have to and bring honor to the family. Athelhart pushed some air out at that last thought quietly as he sat on the bus, bring honor to his family, from what he can gather they're ashamed of him and for a Camelonean that stung, it stung like nothing else he could think of. Family was everything in Camelone, the High Kingdom was a natural outgrowth of the family itself and even though he did not go against the faith or the folk he still felt that burden of shame fall upon him. It's been on his mind ever since he was told that he would be leaving his hometown, something that he knew was not normal. If they think some teasa school was going to change him well they were horribly mistaken, he'll show them, he'll be the way he has always been, nothing will change him. He is a Camelonean.

Though all these thoughts were raging around Athelhart's mind he still couldn't help to pick up on a few things around him, for one he knew for a fact he stuck out like a sore thumb, he had his normal clothes on because his school uniform was in his bags. Trousers, undershirt, and a tunic with a scarcely jeweled decorated belt and boots, a flat cap was pulled over his face with his cloak rolled up next to him and his family brooch placed in his cap for safe keeping. Compared to those around him he knew he stuck out and he was silently proud of it, even if he was here by the shame his family saw he will make his folk proud by representing Camelone as the beautiful nation it is compared to the rest of the world. He also picked up on the low hum of chatter, some he could pick up others he couldn't though he couldn't help pushing some air out again at the attempts of one of the guys to flirt, at least he had the courtesy to greet him. Though the opportunity was to good to pass up, pulling his flat cap down a little bit he called out to the dude.

"Ey, wannabe prince charming." He started to get the guys attention "I don't think the lass' want to be bothered with that nonsense at the moment. Let them adjust first before you try to get into their damn pants." The Camelonean accent was present, though he did have a heavy rural accent on top of that, but he knew he was clear enough to get the point across and the smirk on his face was giant as waited for the reaction, seeing if this was a soft teasa or not.

Soon after the comment, however, a boy in a rather feudal looking garb spoke up.

She appreciated that he recognized the cat calls were inappropriate, for one. Perhaps it was her own biases clouding her interpretation of his words, his accent was unmistakably of rural flavor, she didn't like the paternalistic undertone that as a 'lass' she needed to uniquely 'adjust', to this environment. Nonetheless, it didn't stop her from uttering a quick "thanks" with a smile in his direction as she made her way to the back.

No so long after she sat down, the bus started rolling away on its journey.

Dominicus Schmeetz
GRANGEMOUTH INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
1700 LOCAL TIME

Niek gazed out of the large window besides him. He could hear and feel the engine of the bus starting up, and tried to think of the last time he'd been in a bus like this one. Public transport had become a scarcity, a mere relic of the past, after the war for independence. The new Limburgs army needed its transports, and thus many buses and automobiles were commandeered by the troops, often without any payments or reimbursements. After the war, the factories that still produced cars privately were ambushed by a set of economic sanctions from neighboring countries, and so the governor-general had to step in and nationalise the failing businesses. The lack of cars and buses wasn't something that irritated Niek, though: The roads were much quieter, and there was a distinct lack of pollution. Any physically capable person could hop on a bike and enjoy the hilly Limburgian countryside. Those that claimed to 'need' cars were either too lazy or too caught up in their senseless cosmopolitan admiration for anything automobile, so Dominiek thought.

The longer he looked out the window, the more weary he became. He could feel his eyes closing occasionally, a result of a long flight with a cheap company. The Schmeetzes were "rich" as far as Limburgs wealth went, but if compared to any other country in western Europe, their income would be considered middle-class at best. The airline's "economy class" offered up a luxurious lack of legroom, as well as obnoxiously noisy co-passengers. Dominiek couldn't get any sleep on the way to Folaisia, but he was determined to stay awake till the evening. Falling asleep just like that would be a sign of indiscipline and ingratitude, and it would simply be impolite to get some shuteye, even if 5pm in Folaisia was about 10pm back home. So, with great determination, the young Limburger forced his eyes open, and before he could concentrate on the beautiful nature that surrounded Grangemouth, he fell asleep.

She observed one, wispy haired boy, peering out his window, who, judging by his head bobbing, was fighting a hard battle with sleep that he soon decisively lost.

She also observed a blonde haired boy take a look up and down the bus at the other students, before deciding to get up and make his way towards setting next to a brown haired boy.

She took out her phone, to take some notes, filling a habit she'd picked up since 9th grade of keeping a dossier on everyone she met. You didn't want to give anyone the same compliment, or insult, twice, if you could avoid it.

It was less than ideal that she had to try to keep track of these students without knowing their names, that'd wait until she spoke with them or attendence. Not to worry in the meantime she'd give them nicknames, that'd she'd make sure to keep to her self,

Firstly, she nicknamed the arab boy that cat called her, "Backpfeifengesicht", while she had yet to learn german, she was aware of a few useful compound words that expressed feelings more efficiently than english.

The sleepy wispy haired boy she nicknamed "cotton" on account of that hair.

The blonde haired boy, she nicknamed "goldilocks", and the brown haired boy he went to sit next to "chestnut" both on account of their hair colors.

Satisfied with those nicknames, she kept quietly observing the students as the bus headed on.

Athelhart gave a smile back to Verity "Don't sweat it at all." he replied with the mirth rolling off his tongue as he spoke overall enjoying his time already. After that he sat back down in his seat for a little bit trying to return back to his original state of relaxing and thinking things over but in the end he found that his little act of fun has thoroughly distracted him. With nothing better to do, he didn't possess one of those interactive phones beyond what he left in his luggage, he gingerly made his way to the back stopping for a little bit at the other girl in the group. Patting the top of the seat she sat in "Don't you fret lass, any fear you have you'll hopefully have a friend in me to talk to if you wish... or if you feelin queasy and need to start hurlin hopefully you got quick feet to the trash, cause I may just be dumbass with readin faces. Either way you'll for the most part be fine." His tone was upbeat even when he paused to think for a bit. Moving on he passed some of the other boys giving a tip of the head for politeness, they looked to be talking and he didn't want to interrupt.

Finally reaching the back Athelhart touched his forehead with two of his fingers and he pointed at her with the same two fingers "Names Athelhart Kin-Cenfrith, proud son of Camelone, at your leisure ma'am. I better be that is or else the lads back home would rip me a new one for not upholding the tavern oath like I'm expected to. Mind if I inquire your name?" He asked making conversation as he stood in the middle of the bus aisle leaning on the seats nonchalant.

[Vrijstaat Limburg]

Dominicus Schmeetz
BUS TO THE HOSTEL
1713 LOCAL TIME

Niek's eyes shot wide open. Before he could have any idea, any thought in his head, he felt himself being nudged about very slightly in his seat. The feeling of sitting in a bus was quite alien to him to start off with, but driving through potholes certainly wasn't. Though he was a patriot through and through, he had to admit that the Limburgs public works were far from perfect. Especially the nation’s infrastructure had been neglected for too long. Niek didn’t mind it. The reason why the roads were destroyed was because the Dutch had shelled them. Dominicus would rather live in a country capable of defending itself than a country that prioritised filling potholes and building roads over arming itself against enemy incursions. Luckily for him, he was now in a country that could spend nicely on defence and infrastructure, for Folaisia was a wealthy country, at least compared to his homeland. However, each wealthy country has its flaws, its potholes and bumps, and it was unlucky for Niek to wake up due to such a minor and insignificant flaw.

He rubbed his eyes, and felt ashamed for falling asleep on the bus. The people around him were chatting and enjoying themselves, and here he was, dozing away like a bum. He laid his eyes upon the beautiful Folaisian scenery besides him, and observed that the picturesque streets were just as lovely as they had been when the bus left the airport. He could not for the life of him gauge how far they'd driven now, or for how long he'd slept. He didn't feel as tired as he did before, though. It may have been the shock of the pothole, or the shame of waking up on a crowded bus full of buzzing life and activity, but he'd somehow managed to regain himself a bit, and didn't feel all that bad or tired.

He did naturally still feel slightly dazed and possibly suffered from a lack of energy. He'd been awake for a little over fifteen hours at this point, and though the lack of sleep and long days were nothing new for this legionary, he felt a strange kind of sleepy, a laziness that he had not known before. He didn't exercise as much as he wanted to today. The flight and the bus trip over had taken quite some time, and though he did his rounds at the assault course at noon as well as his nice morning run earlier today, he'd only reached the bare minimum of what he perceived as a sufficient amount of exercise a day: about one and a half hours of intensive, engaging workouts and trainings.

He'd heard stories of gray officers in the legion who struggled with their energy deficiencies by drinking loads of coffee, or even doing cocaine. Drugs, although strictly forbidden by the conservative government, were something high-ranking officers could get their hands on. Drug smugglers saw the lone state of Limburg as a safehaven for their trade and products. The governor-general did try to clamp down on smugglers as he felt that they damaged the moral tapestry of the nation, but his attempts proved to be fruitless when said smugglers found that a few American dollars could make state officials look the other way. Niek looked around him to see what the other kids on the bus were doing, and quickly found his fellow international students to be quite the diverse bunch. To him, most of them looked strange and foreign. As he peered around with curiosity, he tried his best not to stare or to single out people on purpose. He saw that some were wearing their school uniform already. Niek expected those that wore their robes on the first day to be Streber, to be the ones that would likely excel at school, study hard and get good grades. Others wore more traditional clothing that fit their countries of origin and their cultures. His eyes fell upon a lad in old, unfamiliar clothing. It looked like they ripped the boy straight out a documentary about life in medieval Europe, so Schmeetz thought. In comparison, he felt that he looked quite unassuming. A grey hoodie and a pair of blue denim jeans was the most comfortable and easy pick for Niek himself. Once he'd looked around for a short moment, he slid his hand into his right trouser pocket, and pulled out a pack of chewing gum. He'd bought some sticks of chewing gum at the duty free this afternoon, knowing that he could hardly get his hands on this luxury in Limburg. There were no factories that produced these sweets, and though he'd been taught not to go into foreign capitalist markets and buy their goods with his hard-earned Limburgs marks, he couldn't resist buying a bit of chewing gum, especially since it was relatively cheap over here. He'd no doubt bring some back for his family and friends, risking the wrath of ambitious and stone-faced customs officers.

He unwrapped one of the sticks of chewing gum and subsequently started chewing on it. The sweet and relentlessly sugary taste of cheap gum was as refreshing as it was alien, and, without giving it any thought at all, Niek simply threw the wrapping paper on the ground, knowing that someone else would clean it up at some point. This ignorance on environmental issues and blissful anti-social behaviour was somewhat typical for some Limburgers, who had heen taught that worrying over the “environment” was not something worth doing. Instead, children were raised knowing that their state was supreme, that the Hollander stood at the border, ready to invade, and that the governor-general saved the country from ruin. As he enjoyed the lovely taste of the stick of gum, Niek’s mind wandered over to other packs of chewing gum that he kept in his duffle bag, all neatly stored up in the bus's cargo hold. He tried to go over everything that he'd brought with him. His school uniform, some comfortable personal clothes of his, his legionary beret and a proper Limburgs flag that he planned on flying from the hostel window or hanging in his room. He hoped that he was prepared well-enough for this exchange program and though he was never fully content in leaving his homeland, he prided himself in the fact that he would represent Limburg abroad. Glory to the fatherland, that was what he perceived as his main priority. The image of the nation was at stake.

As he thought of his gear, his mind also went off to his bag. His duffle bag was downtrodden and filthy compared to the other well-kept suitcases and bags. Most of the exchange students had lead very different lives to Dominicus, and were no doubt more or less privileged in other ways. Where some had nice black suitcases built by hand in European artisan shops, Niek had his very own 'plunjezak', an old duffle bag that had originally belonged to a Dutch army soldier until the legion "commandeered" royalist stockpiles, and had "converted" the bag to "correspond with legionary standards" neatly. The serenity of the brown fabric had been stained by grease back when Niek first cleaned his LJ3 service rifle on the bag, much like it had been stained by layers of mud when Niek and his platoon partook in joint operations in the lovely green hills and forests of Limburg. He and his comrade-cadets had scribbled out the black "KL", an abbreviation of "Koninklijke Landmacht", or "Royal Army", and replaced it with a white-blue-gold "VLL", the official abbreviation of the Free Limburgs Legion. Where the bag had not been sullied by grease and mud, the legion's cadets had written down offensive slurs and slogans against their Dutch adversaries. Anti-Hollander, anti-Dutch, anti-monarchist, anti-Protestant, anti-bolshevik and occasionally anti-capitalist or even anti-semetic, it was all on there. It didn't bother Niek, nor did it bring him shame, because he violently agreed with the slurs and found that his rejection of Dutch imperialism was integral in his own political and personal identity.

His mind raced around, going from subject to subject at high speeds. He couldn't wait finally arriving at the hostel, to finally get on his feet and get active again. This bus ride was killing him, slowing him down. He had never been a patient lad, and couldn't wait to finally enter his dorm, his bunks, to meet his classmates and start the year off right.

[Hanoverian Great Britain]

Princess Mary
BUS TO THE HOSTEL
1720 LOCAL TIME

"Not bad at all", commented Mary as minutes had passed since she, alongside other students had went on the bus, which is heading towards its designated destination. Dressed well in an everyday outfit, Mary had took a few minutes earlier looking out the window, analysing the scenery around them. While it does fit the modern scenery of a city, what struck her interest was the fact that she is alone in a foreign place, with strangers all around her.

As she went through her back, she had no difficulty in reaching for her smartphone. "My goodness, it's getting worse, oh God...", lauded Mary in disbelief as she then recounted the words her sister, the queen said to her during their journey here. "If Allie could go on her own to a work trip in Dubai, all by herself, I could do this too! No need to worry, Mary", her mind shouted in encouragement.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

OOC: has the bus arrived yet?

[Polish Prussian Commonwealth]

OOC: has the bus arrived yet?

OOC: you're in the bus just like the rest of us
now react to being, in no particular order, being elbowed in the ribs by a chesspiece and being told off by a scotsman

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

OOC: has the bus arrived yet?

OOC: you're in the bus just like the rest of us
now react to being, in no particular order, being elbowed in the ribs by a chesspiece and being told off by a scotsman

OOC: when did that happen?

[Vrijstaat Limburg]

Maybe it’s best if we bring this stuff over to the OOC thread considering that IC posts and OOC discussions/questions should ideally be seperated

[Polish Prussian Commonwealth]

OOC: you're in the bus just like the rest of us
now react to being, in no particular order, being elbowed in the ribs by a chesspiece and being told off by a scotsman

OOC: when did that happen?

viewtopic.php?p=36814194#p36814194
viewtopic.php?p=36812654#p36812654

[Cybernetic Socialist Republics]

Athelhart gave a smile back to Verity "Don't sweat it at all." he replied with the mirth rolling off his tongue as he spoke overall enjoying his time already. After that he sat back down in his seat for a little bit trying to return back to his original state of relaxing and thinking things over but in the end he found that his little act of fun has thoroughly distracted him. With nothing better to do, he didn't possess one of those interactive phones beyond what he left in his luggage, he gingerly made his way to the back stopping for a little bit at the other girl in the group. Patting the top of the seat she sat in "Don't you fret lass, any fear you have you'll hopefully have a friend in me to talk to if you wish... or if you feelin queasy and need to start hurlin hopefully you got quick feet to the trash, cause I may just be dumbass with readin faces. Either way you'll for the most part be fine." His tone was upbeat even when he paused to think for a bit. Moving on he passed some of the other boys giving a tip of the head for politeness, they looked to be talking and he didn't want to interrupt.

Finally reaching the back Athelhart touched his forehead with two of his fingers and he pointed at her with the same two fingers "Names Athelhart Kin-Cenfrith, proud son of Camelone, at your leisure ma'am. I better be that is or else the lads back home would rip me a new one for not upholding the tavern oath like I'm expected to. Mind if I inquire your name?" He asked making conversation as he stood in the middle of the bus aisle leaning on the seats nonchalant.

Verity watched as the medievally dressed boy left his seat and made his way down the bus toward her. She watched as he stopped to talk to a girl some seats in front of her, while she couldn't exactly hear what he said, she figured that it must be some words of comfort, as the girl had been hugging her bag for comfort for much of the trip.

As he approached Verity, she turned off her smartphone screen and held it face down on her left leg.

The boy, Athelhart, was hos name, introduced himself. While she didn't find his joke to be all that funny, she humoured him with a smile before responding.

"My name is Verity Nicholas, from the Union of Cybernetic Socialist Republics"

She watched the boys face for any reaction. As child of two very educated politically active parents, she was always aware of the uniqueness of her experience in her home country, in comparison to others. She'd been taught to expect that people from other countries would make certain assumptions about her and her beliefs based on her nationality, some largely true and others wildly inaccurate. Though she didn't really know what to expect from who's exprience, if his clothing was anything to go by, was largely pre-capitalist.

"So, these, 'lads' in Cameron..." she continued, attempting to conceal any trace of condecension that might be in her voice.

"...expect you to uphold a tavern oath? Do you mind explaining to me what that oath is, or is it a secret pledge?"

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

Athelhart Kin-Cenfrith
Grangemouth, Dalmashiel, Folaisia
5 PM
For Athelhart the flight over to Folaisia wasn't that bad at all, the High Kingdom of Camelone was rather close to this nation so the flight was quick and painless. Honestly if he wanted to he could have taken a boat over and still showed up to school on time but he could see the reasoning to make things easier for their hosts, even if they were hosts that he had no voice in the matter of imposing himself on. Yet there was no need to cause any frustration for these people yet, they haven't done anything disrespectful or stupid though he highly doubted that would last for long, on the flip side though seeing the poorly controlled teasa squirm under some good old fashion Camelonean insults will be hilarious. Teasa from what he has heard were generally a more soft-skinned people compared to the emotionally hardened and jolly Camelonean stock, anyone who has to hide their emotions behind a facade of control wasn't worth his respect. Laugh and be jolly at insults and challenges, why else care about anything else, fight when you want to fight, drink when you want to drink, eat when you want to eat, sing when you want to sing, but obey the conventions when you have to and bring honor to the family. Athelhart pushed some air out at that last thought quietly as he sat on the bus, bring honor to his family, from what he can gather they're ashamed of him and for a Camelonean that stung, it stung like nothing else he could think of. Family was everything in Camelone, the High Kingdom was a natural outgrowth of the family itself and even though he did not go against the faith or the folk he still felt that burden of shame fall upon him. It's been on his mind ever since he was told that he would be leaving his hometown, something that he knew was not normal. If they think some teasa school was going to change him well they were horribly mistaken, he'll show them, he'll be the way he has always been, nothing will change him. He is a Camelonean.

Though all these thoughts were raging around Athelhart's mind he still couldn't help to pick up on a few things around him, for one he knew for a fact he stuck out like a sore thumb, he had his normal clothes on because his school uniform was in his bags. Trousers, undershirt, and a tunic with a scarcely jeweled decorated belt and boots, a flat cap was pulled over his face with his cloak rolled up next to him and his family brooch placed in his cap for safe keeping. Compared to those around him he knew he stuck out and he was silently proud of it, even if he was here by the shame his family saw he will make his folk proud by representing Camelone as the beautiful nation it is compared to the rest of the world. He also picked up on the low hum of chatter, some he could pick up others he couldn't though he couldn't help pushing some air out again at the attempts of one of the guys to flirt, at least he had the courtesy to greet him. Though the opportunity was to good to pass up, pulling his flat cap down a little bit he called out to the dude.

"Ey, wannabe prince charming." He started to get the guys attention "I don't think the lass' want to be bothered with that nonsense at the moment. Let them adjust first before you try to get into their damn pants." The Camelonean accent was present, though he did have a heavy rural accent on top of that, but he knew he was clear enough to get the point across and the smirk on his face was giant as waited for the reaction, seeing if this was a soft teasa or not.

“You ok, kid?” Said the young man.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

Otto Knight A-C-1
GRANGEMOUTH INT. AIRPORT
1700 HOURS
The familiar old tune of I vow to thee, my Country played through Otto's cheap plastic earbuds as he rifled through his bag, ensuring he had all of his possessions.
2 rolls of toilet paper, a small, thin, laptop(plus charger), various books he would need(including his most prized possession; a copy of The Outlaws, by Ernst von Salomon), pens, pencils, his multitool, (tightly packed)clothing, 2 tins of corned beef, a tin of lemonade powder, a reusable mess kit, 1 Imperial Army 24-hour combat ration(with a flameless heating element), a canteen topped off with distilled water, and a small bundle of letters from his sister, Otulissa, as well as a few pictures of her-mainly her standing on top of or in front of tanks, and occasionally images of her platoon as well.

In short, the necessities of life for a cadet.

He had, of course, switched into the uniform of the school he was liasoning with beforehand. However, his original, British-style, uniform was in his pack, just in case.

He zipped up his bag, and stared outside for awhile.

He was no stranger to the wild-cadet school ensured that. Every other weekend, the cadets would participate in wilderness survival and navigation training in the massive deciduous forests Duchy A-A-1 was known for. Still, he had always been so focused on where his next meal would come from, or how to get out of the woods, that he never spent much time to look around and enjoy the scenery. Now that he was on a bus and viewing it from a distance, he supposed they looked pretty enough; the issue was that it was no use of a man trying to guess whether or not the berries he was examining would make him shit his guts out.

He turned his eyes away from the window and took stock of his soon-to-be classmates. A varied lot, apparently, including an arrogant-looking Arab who strutted around like a peacock, to whom he applied the point of his elbow to the ribs as he passed along, as well as a harsh, but quiet "Keep your damned pecker in yer damned pants!"...

Larsa Solidor
Gran Archades Intl. Airport
~0600hrs, Local Time

---

It was a dreary autumn morning, the urban nerve of international commerce glittered slightly under the gentle flaking of rain. As far as the princeling was concerned, it was far too early and too dreary to be flying. Yet he trusted the pilots of the small jet, as his elder brother-the esteemed Prince of the Ancient and Austere House of Solidor-had placed his trust in him.

Yet in spite of such grandiose plans, the execution was done with little pomp and circumstance. The sixteen year old lad surveyed the transition between dreary downpour to resplendent dawn with a scowl, and buried himself in quiet activities. There will be no servants of which to aid him, and his stature as a Prince among Princes was barely noted in St. Peadrus. Something that Larsa wholeheartedly welcomed.

Sleep would be sporadic, as if to preemptively combat jet-lag, and much of the flight was kept in silent meditation. He was at a crossroads in his life, and though priding himself on mathematical understanding...he found himself reluctant to take on his brother's place while his ambitions soared ever higher. Prince Larsa was finding that it was easier to follow someone else's passion rather than his own.

Yet what passions could be unearthed in this new adventure? Only time and the Divine could tell...

...And a Dancerian.

The young lad coughed and tapped him on the shoulder.

" 'Scuse me." he whispered. "You mind if I sit next you ya?"

“I don’t take kindly to being insult, mister!”
Said the young nobleman.

[Folaisia]

OOC: Take OOC discussions to the OOC thread, and that thread only.

[Camelone]

[spoiler=Cameron]

Athelhart gave a smile back to Verity "Don't sweat it at all." he replied with the mirth rolling off his tongue as he spoke overall enjoying his time already. After that he sat back down in his seat for a little bit trying to return back to his original state of relaxing and thinking things over but in the end he found that his little act of fun has thoroughly distracted him. With nothing better to do, he didn't possess one of those interactive phones beyond what he left in his luggage, he gingerly made his way to the back stopping for a little bit at the other girl in the group. Patting the top of the seat she sat in "Don't you fret lass, any fear you have you'll hopefully have a friend in me to talk to if you wish... or if you feelin queasy and need to start hurlin hopefully you got quick feet to the trash, cause I may just be dumbass with readin faces. Either way you'll for the most part be fine." His tone was upbeat even when he paused to think for a bit. Moving on he passed some of the other boys giving a tip of the head for politeness, they looked to be talking and he didn't want to interrupt.

Finally reaching the back Athelhart touched his forehead with two of his fingers and he pointed at her with the same two fingers "Names Athelhart Kin-Cenfrith, proud son of Camelone, at your leisure ma'am. I better be that is or else the lads back home would rip me a new one for not upholding the tavern oath like I'm expected to. Mind if I inquire your name?" He asked making conversation as he stood in the middle of the bus aisle leaning on the seats nonchalant.

Verity watched as the medievally dressed boy left his seat and made his way down the bus toward her. She watched as he stopped to talk to a girl some seats in front of her, while she couldn't exactly hear what he said, she figured that it must be some words of comfort, as the girl had been hugging her bag for comfort for much of the trip.

As he approached Verity, she turned off her smartphone screen and held it face down on her left leg.

The boy, Athelhart, was hos name, introduced himself. While she didn't find his joke to be all that funny, she humoured him with a smile before responding.

"My name is Verity Nicholas, from the Union of Cybernetic Socialist Republics"

She watched the boys face for any reaction. As child of two very educated politically active parents, she was always aware of the uniqueness of her experience in her home country, in comparison to others. She'd been taught to expect that people from other countries would make certain assumptions about her and her beliefs based on her nationality, some largely true and others wildly inaccurate. Though she didn't really know what to expect from who's exprience, if his clothing was anything to go by, was largely pre-capitalist.

"So, these, 'lads' in Cameron..." she continued, attempting to conceal any trace of condecension that might be in her voice.

"...expect you to uphold a tavern oath? Do you mind explaining to me what that oath is, or is it a secret pledge?"

Athelhart raised his eyebrow and his face become sullen for a second before he recomposed himself at the name of the country that Verity hailed from "Union of Cybernetic Socialist Republics, the UCSR? I've always been told any shade of red ain't the best to have, especially with the body count they built up back in the fatherland, but as long as you don't start preachin to me we'll be fine." He said thinking about the history he learned about the 30 odd year civil war that ravaged Camelone from '67 to '93 where the socialists and communists plunged the High Kingdom into a war which killed off 10% to 15% of the population. "Regardless of that it is a true pleasure to make your acquaintance." Another sincere smile forming on his face.

"Now as for the tavern oath from the lads back in Came-LONE" he stressed the last part to correct her pronouncement without being a jerk about it. "It is more or less open to the public as a whole as each tavern, or network of taverns, has them posted somewhere in the building or available online and the like. Mine is the Stanstir Hornet Tavern, which you can probably figure out that is a part of a network of tavern's. The tavern oath I have sworn goes as such. I solemnly swear upon the name of my clan, and my dignity as a man, to uphold all things that I hereby utter and swear, so that all my deeds and words may bring honor to you my brothers and to the reputation of my clan. Now I pledge that even though I be small in the great game of life I shall not let my spirit be conquered, I shall let my voice spill forth mirth to foe and friend. By my father I shall stand strong in spirit, my words as sharp as a beautiful blade, my restraint to delight in the victory of causing my foe to become a slave and strike me first with no retaliation from my soul. By my mother I shall treat any lass and lady as if they were my kin, to instill fear in the hearts of the pervert and fornicator, to be kind and courteous to them so that they may live their lives peacefully. By my community I shall brawl with you my brothers and all my violence shall be directed towards defense, entertainment, or the protection of honor. I beg of each and every one of you my brothers to support me in this endeavor, to be a man who riots and brawls for the sake of the folk, to honor the ancestors with our mighty deeds, to kneel to Christ alone and acknowledge the proper lords and officials, holding them to the fist and gun if they forget who they are dealing with. Let the poems of my heart and the songs of unity and conflict bellow through these hallowed walls of fellowship now and forevermore with the clink of tankards and a flood of mead. To victory and mead." Athelhart recited from memory, his eyes closed in concentration, and explained "Before every night of merriment we recite the oath together and conclude the night with one of the three Christian creeds."

After the explanation he turned his head to the attempted prince charming "Yep perfectly fine." Keeping the exchange curt and crisp, there was no need to expand any further with the lad, though the use of kid was hilarious his mind. The guy didn't even recognize what he did.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

[spoiler=Cameron]

Verity watched as the medievally dressed boy left his seat and made his way down the bus toward her. She watched as he stopped to talk to a girl some seats in front of her, while she couldn't exactly hear what he said, she figured that it must be some words of comfort, as the girl had been hugging her bag for comfort for much of the trip.

As he approached Verity, she turned off her smartphone screen and held it face down on her left leg.

The boy, Athelhart, was hos name, introduced himself. While she didn't find his joke to be all that funny, she humoured him with a smile before responding.

"My name is Verity Nicholas, from the Union of Cybernetic Socialist Republics"

She watched the boys face for any reaction. As child of two very educated politically active parents, she was always aware of the uniqueness of her experience in her home country, in comparison to others. She'd been taught to expect that people from other countries would make certain assumptions about her and her beliefs based on her nationality, some largely true and others wildly inaccurate. Though she didn't really know what to expect from who's exprience, if his clothing was anything to go by, was largely pre-capitalist.

"So, these, 'lads' in Cameron..." she continued, attempting to conceal any trace of condecension that might be in her voice.

"...expect you to uphold a tavern oath? Do you mind explaining to me what that oath is, or is it a secret pledge?"

Athelhart raised his eyebrow and his face become sullen for a second before he recomposed himself at the name of the country that Verity hailed from "Union of Cybernetic Socialist Republics, the UCSR? I've always been told any shade of red ain't the best to have, especially with the body count they built up back in the fatherland, but as long as you don't start preachin to me we'll be fine." He said thinking about the history he learned about the 30 odd year civil war that ravaged Camelone from '67 to '93 where the socialists and communists plunged the High Kingdom into a war which killed off 10% to 15% of the population. "Regardless of that it is a true pleasure to make your acquaintance." Another sincere smile forming on his face.

"Now as for the tavern oath from the lads back in Came-LONE" he stressed the last part to correct her pronouncement without being a jerk about it. "It is more or less open to the public as a whole as each tavern, or network of taverns, has them posted somewhere in the building or available online and the like. Mine is the Stanstir Hornet Tavern, which you can probably figure out that is a part of a network of tavern's. The tavern oath I have sworn goes as such. I solemnly swear upon the name of my clan, and my dignity as a man, to uphold all things that I hereby utter and swear, so that all my deeds and words may bring honor to you my brothers and to the reputation of my clan. Now I pledge that even though I be small in the great game of life I shall not let my spirit be conquered, I shall let my voice spill forth mirth to foe and friend. By my father I shall stand strong in spirit, my words as sharp as a beautiful blade, my restraint to delight in the victory of causing my foe to become a slave and strike me first with no retaliation from my soul. By my mother I shall treat any lass and lady as if they were my kin, to instill fear in the hearts of the pervert and fornicator, to be kind and courteous to them so that they may live their lives peacefully. By my community I shall brawl with you my brothers and all my violence shall be directed towards defense, entertainment, or the protection of honor. I beg of each and every one of you my brothers to support me in this endeavor, to be a man who riots and brawls for the sake of the folk, to honor the ancestors with our mighty deeds, to kneel to Christ alone and acknowledge the proper lords and officials, holding them to the fist and gun if they forget who they are dealing with. Let the poems of my heart and the songs of unity and conflict bellow through these hallowed walls of fellowship now and forevermore with the clink of tankards and a flood of mead. To victory and mead." Athelhart recited from memory, his eyes closed in concentration, and explained "Before every night of merriment we recite the oath together and conclude the night with one of the three Christian creeds."

After the explanation he turned his head to the attempted prince charming "Yep perfectly fine." Keeping the exchange curt and crisp, there was no need to expand any further with the lad, though the use of kid was hilarious his mind. The guy didn't even recognize what he did.

The young nobleman, whose faced turned into a snarl like his Alsatian, thought for a while of a response to match his curt tone.
He read his adversary’s face to ascertain the strength of his heart and then said
“You didn’t say thank you. Where I’m from people are mostly grateful to me.”

[Camelone]

Athelhart raised his eyebrow and his face become sullen for a second before he recomposed himself at the name of the country that Verity hailed from "Union of Cybernetic Socialist Republics, the UCSR? I've always been told any shade of red ain't the best to have, especially with the body count they built up back in the fatherland, but as long as you don't start preachin to me we'll be fine." He said thinking about the history he learned about the 30 odd year civil war that ravaged Camelone from '67 to '93 where the socialists and communists plunged the High Kingdom into a war which killed off 10% to 15% of the population. "Regardless of that it is a true pleasure to make your acquaintance." Another sincere smile forming on his face.

"Now as for the tavern oath from the lads back in Came-LONE" he stressed the last part to correct her pronouncement without being a jerk about it. "It is more or less open to the public as a whole as each tavern, or network of taverns, has them posted somewhere in the building or available online and the like. Mine is the Stanstir Hornet Tavern, which you can probably figure out that is a part of a network of tavern's. The tavern oath I have sworn goes as such. I solemnly swear upon the name of my clan, and my dignity as a man, to uphold all things that I hereby utter and swear, so that all my deeds and words may bring honor to you my brothers and to the reputation of my clan. Now I pledge that even though I be small in the great game of life I shall not let my spirit be conquered, I shall let my voice spill forth mirth to foe and friend. By my father I shall stand strong in spirit, my words as sharp as a beautiful blade, my restraint to delight in the victory of causing my foe to become a slave and strike me first with no retaliation from my soul. By my mother I shall treat any lass and lady as if they were my kin, to instill fear in the hearts of the pervert and fornicator, to be kind and courteous to them so that they may live their lives peacefully. By my community I shall brawl with you my brothers and all my violence shall be directed towards defense, entertainment, or the protection of honor. I beg of each and every one of you my brothers to support me in this endeavor, to be a man who riots and brawls for the sake of the folk, to honor the ancestors with our mighty deeds, to kneel to Christ alone and acknowledge the proper lords and officials, holding them to the fist and gun if they forget who they are dealing with. Let the poems of my heart and the songs of unity and conflict bellow through these hallowed walls of fellowship now and forevermore with the clink of tankards and a flood of mead. To victory and mead." Athelhart recited from memory, his eyes closed in concentration, and explained "Before every night of merriment we recite the oath together and conclude the night with one of the three Christian creeds."

After the explanation he turned his head to the attempted prince charming "Yep perfectly fine." Keeping the exchange curt and crisp, there was no need to expand any further with the lad, though the use of kid was hilarious his mind. The guy didn't even recognize what he did.

The young nobleman, whose faced turned into a snarl like his Alsatian, thought for a while of a response to match his curt tone.
He read his adversary’s face to ascertain the strength of his heart and then said
“You didn’t say thank you. Where I’m from people are mostly grateful to me.”

Athelhart stood up and turned around "Listen right now lad, get off your damn high horse. I'm not going to be grateful for your mere presence, I'm a Camelonean, I'm a fuckin freeman, even our nobility and lords have to earn the respect they are given in some way. I have no ties to you, your family, or your country so no I'm not going to be grateful for your presence when your first response to seeing our female classmates was not an introduction and a hello but a flirt. Instead of reacting to me you say 'you ok, kid?' which I was fine with, just meant you were oblivious to what you said and that can be forgiven but now you demand respect without doing a damn thing to deserve it. I will apologize for this due to you coming from such a vastly different part of the world and not to be a giant asshole but I think you need a major culture check. Now if you would excuse me I would like to put this behind us." He said, his voice was calm and clear though there was an edge of aggression in his tone. With that said Athelhart sat down in the seat across the aisle from Verity, keeping his eyes on the guy.

[Champagne Socialist Sharifistan]

The young nobleman, whose faced turned into a snarl like his Alsatian, thought for a while of a response to match his curt tone.
He read his adversary’s face to ascertain the strength of his heart and then said
“You didn’t say thank you. Where I’m from people are mostly grateful to me.”

Athelhart stood up and turned around "Listen right now lad, get off your damn high horse. I'm not going to be grateful for your mere presence, I'm a Camelonean, I'm a fuckin freeman, even our nobility and lords have to earn the respect they are given in some way. I have no ties to you, your family, or your country so no I'm not going to be grateful for your presence when your first response to seeing our female classmates was not an introduction and a hello but a flirt. Instead of reacting to me you say 'you ok, kid?' which I was fine with, just meant you were oblivious to what you said and that can be forgiven but now you demand respect without doing a damn thing to deserve it. I will apologize for this due to you coming from such a vastly different part of the world and not to be a giant asshole but I think you need a major culture check. Now if you would excuse me I would like to put this behind us." He said, his voice was calm and clear though there was an edge of aggression in his tone. With that said Athelhart sat down in the seat across the aisle from Verity, keeping his eyes on the guy.

“I am sure this was a misunderstanding. Let’s put it behind us.”
Said Khalid.