High Hopes on the High Sea (CLOSED)

[Welzat]

"By God's good grace we finally found it!" Captain Oliver Providence exclaimed as the rest of his crew cheered with excitement. The small dot just at the horizon was something new to the Welzat people, a new beginning for such a budding nation. On Welzat maps, there was not supposed to be land here, but rumors from old scraggly sailors at Tretol and the task of just endlessly roaming the great ocean, the Grand Hall took a risk coming to this isolated part of the ocean, and finally, it paid off. Of course, before this discovery, the ship had passed other islands but those clearly had ownership but this was new.

In just hours as the burning tropical sun got brighter and hotter in the sky the small Sandown class Minehunter, now repurposed by the Principality to scout the seas for the land, had approached the lone landmass. Captain Providence was careful to avoid the reefs and shallow depths that lurked around their treasure and finally anchored ship a few kilometers off the beach that beckoned the crew. On the deck, a group of five special Welzat "Prince's Royal Explorers " sailors waited for orders. This Exploration force was unique in the rather dull Welzat Armed Forces, as they were trained for this moment, to explore new uncharted land for the crown and the all luxurious job of hoisting the national flag if deemed appropriate for annexation. It was the most sought out job in the entire military due to its exotic nature and glamor that came from the position. However, to be in the company one would usually need connections or come from a bloodline of aristocrats, or be very lucky.

"Captain Providence, awaiting orders." Sergeant Gale Bruins said with a classical aristocratic accent. The man in his early 30s was the leader of this squad of explorers, coming from a family of doctors, Gale was shifted into the corp as thanks for his family's work on caring for the high class. While not the job he wanted all the years of training had made him accept his fate and truthfully, inside he was excited to actually use the training put to use finally.

"Well, Sergeant take an inflatable and see what it holds. If you find it to be suitable, hoist our flag will ya?" The Captain said smiling at the soldier his perfectly white uniform glimmering off the sun and in the air a pinch of excitement was all around.

---

The ocean was calm, the weather perfect, today truly was the day to find land and the team made it to the beautiful white beach without a hitch. Unlike, most facets of the Welzat military the Royal Explorers were armed and dressed in modern gear, a treat for being in such an elite position. The M4 was the main weapon of the force and MICH helmets decorated with a small Welzat flag, perched on each soldiers head, finally, MTV ballistic armor protected the men, if things went wrong. All of this seemed excessive to explore such a small piece of land but it was standard protocol. The squad entered the forest of palm trees where insects greeted the team with fierce biting but alas the armor and gear prevented any noticeable discomfort. In just minutes of exploring the team stumbled upon an interesting discovery, an old airstrip.

"Oh fuck, does this mean?" A soldier said looking at the dilapidated airstrip.

"No, not at all. Let me radio back to the Grand Hall." Bruins said without missing a beat.

---

"An airstrip, you say... how interesting... what's the state of it?" Captain Providence said with intrigue at the discovery. In his mind, it didn't matter the state of the site, this island was truly nowhere close to another landmass for hundreds of kilometers in any direction. No nation would miss this annexation, that was the hope and when Bruins called back about the strip nearly being overrun with vegetation, a cool grin came over the old captain's face.

A stroke of his white beard and a brief pause was followed by an order, " Must have been an old private island of the sorts, maybe for smugglers or the likes, but this does not matter now. Hoist our flag on her... our new Hasclantt island, sergeant, that's an order."

With that, the squad quickly deployed a portable flag pole and a Welzat flag that was neatly triangularly folded was pulled from a pack. As Bruins pulled up the old national cheers from the sailors on the Grand Hall rang out as all saturated to this new age of Welzat discovery. However, they were not the only ones watching the scene.

[Neo Prutenia]

“Oi, Herbert… are you done?”

Herbert looked back at his superior, one captain Amelie Reepmacker, and shook his head. He was at it tough, waiting for the signal to start reeling the equipment back in.

“Seriously? Those boffins are still measuring? What could they possibly be trying to gleam out of the last two centimetres squared of this utterly desolate bit of the seabed left untouched by the sonar? Now they’re just being obtuse.”

Herbert just shrugged and kept waiting. His ear was almost touching the ship’s intercom, while his hand hovered over the reel. He did seem as eager as the captain to leave this part of the sea.

____

The captain left the room and went to the lab, which took her just about a minute. Her ship wasn’t a huge research vessel but it was somewhat stuffy and definitely designed more with modularity and practicality in mind then creature comforts for the crew. It was just big enough for the complement of twenty crewmembers and a whole lot of various hydrographic and oceanographic scanners, tools, and related equipment. Usually the Sternschein would be involved in naval research, and her design and capabilities reflected that, but on this occasion she was helping the endeavors of the PM’s environmental and ecological initiatives.

While the ship was perfectly capable of such and could perform such activities without a hitch, the captain somewhat failed to enjoy the change of pace. Perhaps the lack of submarine detecting and torpedo launching and studying the aftereffects of such actions just didn’t impress the captain enough. Or more likely it was the utter remoteness of the area. Albeit it wasn’t useless at all; there were a few reefs and an ocean ridge in the area, which made them useful for monitoring the thermocline in a decent sized sector, given that it remained mostly constant and stable in this part of the world. This in turn meant that the area was strategically important to the PM as it helped monitor non-Prut submarines should such be necessary, such as a hypothetical incursion from north of the equator.

Yet that occasional measuring and checking on the area was important still didn’t make the captain agreeable.

She marched into the lab just to see her colleague and scientific liaison, Henrike Hildebrandt, confirm to the before mentioned Herbert to start reeling everything in. She smiled at the captain and stretched her arms very audibly. She cracked her fingers, her neck, all the while Amelie observed her, frowning, arms crossed. The women looked at each other.

“Skipper.”

“Professor.”

“Ah, come on skipper, don’t be rude. Professor-Kor please. Or do you really still mind me on board of your fair vessel? We’ve been at the mercy of the high seas for two weeks now. Will you ever relent?”

“No, I won’t. But fair that you mentioned two weeks having passed by since I was afflicted by your team and your nonsense. That means that we’re at the half point of this journey and I’ll only have to tolerate you for another two weeks, unless you plan on delaying us further with your private hobbies and observations.”

“Ah, but skipper, I’m sure a scholar of the seas such as yourself can see the wisdom in my work. Studying the currents, the topography of the seabed, the temperatures, and how all those shift, comparing and contrasting them to our previous data, it’s all relevant for ascertaining the health and well-being of our waters, fish stocks, and ecological projects. There’s bound to be some military application as well.”

“Is there?”

“Wouldn’t you be the expert on that? I’m afraid I’m one of those who shirked the call.” She grinned, a bit proud, and quite a bit mischievous. Henrike did seem to enjoy riling up the captain. She was an easy target.

“I guess I would be the expert.” Amelie sighed. “Are we finally done here? We do have to visit that island, and we’re behind schedule.”

“Ah, but we aren’t!”

“Woman, you’ve just told Herbert to pack everything up. He’s been waiting all morning, the poor lad. So how come we aren’t…”

“We are not behind schedule, I meant. We are done here.” She smiled. “We’re well within mission parametres, skipper. 21 to 28 days, means we’re allowed to go beyond just 21. It’s not a race.”

Amelie just threw her arms in the air and left the lab and Henrike behind. About five minutes later and after making sure Herbert was done and nothing would be left behind, captain Amelie gave the order to set sail for Hagens Island.

---

The Sternschein approached Hagens Island from north-northwest. The ships design allowed some leeway but it was better to be safe than sorry, and the most convenient anchorage was exactly that part of the locale. Of course Hagens Island didn’t have an actual harbor nor any permanent settlement; on occasion it would house a research team or military detachment, but these event were infrequent and mostly in the past. The island itself was habitable, but it was far too remote and inconveniently located away from major wind and sea currents, so no one bothered to settle it properly. A lighthouse, a weather station, and airstrip, all three pretty much abandoned, and an old palm and coconut plantation, which was definitely abandoned, were the only signs humans ever visited this island.

Except for the unknown ship and the flag the Sternschein’s crew failed to recognise.

The captain didn’t even bother with radar. These waters were safe, and no surprises were expected. So they only had visual confirmation. She observed the vessel with a spyglass, and she was definitely puzzled by the ship. Really any ship at all being there would have been odd. But this was apparently a military vessel. Hopefully a lost one. And the flag at least suggested they were not pirates.

“Skipper?”

“Still looking. Difficult to tell, but yeah, they’re armed. And they are most certainly neither ours nor supposed to be at Hagens.”

Henrike stood next to the captain, holding a hot cup of coffee and staring and the tiny object in the distance.

“Is it wise to hail them?”

“I’m pretty sure we can outrun them, if it becomes necessary. We’ll send an encrypted message to HQ first, just to be sure. Then we’ll hail them as we approach Hagens.” She turned to the crew. “Any objections?”

As no one objected, the Sternschein continued on her merry way and approached Hagens island. After a few minutes, they radioed the unknown ship and tried to communicate in Low Prut first:

“Unknown vessel, this is captain Amelie Reepmacker of the PBF Sternschein, a marine research ship of the Prut Meritocracy. You’re currently illegally trespassing on Hagens Island, a territory under Prut sovereignty. Please identify yourself. Over.”

[Welzat]

WRN Grand Hall

The past days or so the crew on the Grand Hall were busy surveying and cleaning their new territory. The hot tropical environment was serving to be a challenge for sailors that came from such temperate lands with sweat and soggy uniforms being all too common. The bulk of the 34 men complement was tasked with the restoration of the airstrip, which was overgrown with vegetation and small palms. Just a ghostly outline of the field remained with the jungle slowly engulfing it. The rip of saws into young trees and the mumble of dull conversations by the crew echoed through the island as the wind was just a mere light breeze today, a painful fact that plagued the seaman as they readied the strip for its resurrection. However, not all were doing this menial hard labor the WRN Grand Hall which was southeast of the island was still hunkered down, and inside a skeleton crew of operators still ran the vessel.



Captain Providence was one of these lucky souls not outside but that did not mean his work wasn't any easier. He was communicating with the Welzat Government discussing plans for the newly name Hasclantt Island (named after John Hasclantt an early explorer of the Welzat homeland) being directed to give his reports to other high ranking officials. It was a task he enjoyed as if it was finally some sort of recognition for years of service to the crown. With a diligent pompous voice he gave the same report of the discovery and airstrip to Admiral, then the aristocrats of the government and finally he was matched with Prime Minister Franz Langer, Lord of Tretol.



The Captain was without a doubt a little intimidated by speaking to such a high ranking official and would have much rather spoken to Lord Heron, but with the WAF conflict currently in the country he was unavailable, besides this was not a military conflict but rather integrating an island within the nation so it only made sense that Lord Langer would be the man to speak with. Providence went ahead with his report which took a matter of minutes and then awaited a response from the minister.



Langer who was seventy-two in age and had lived through three Princes was highly respected in every sense, even with old age the greying man still kept his wits and spoke in a fine-tuned accent the younger generation seemed to miss out on, "Captain Providence, I must first congratulate you are this splendid discovery in the high seas. This island can serve us in so many ways from fishing to refueling our planes it truly is a great day for Welzat. However... we cannot think this island isn't on someone's map, an airstrip and weather station point to this...I do have a feeling whoever may own this island will be making an appearance soon. If we want to stay ahead and avoid any mishaps from a foreign country, we must play this smart, as such I cannot allow our other naval vessels to meet you at the island immediately..." He paused for a second giving the Captain a second to think.



This was a blow to Providence as all throughout the command chain, news that other ships would assist in establishing the island for the crown were guaranteed, but now, here was the minister blowing that all away. Providence wanted to protest that having a single ship would leave him at the mercy of foreign nations but alas he never to interrupt as the minister continued.



"However, my Captain Providence, if in two weeks no others show expect the Admiral and his Walcott to meet you. I hope you understand my concerns, as we do not need another national tragedy with the WAF still active. "



Just then on the comms, a voice not from the crew rang out. All within the ship looked startled by the sudden chatter and when the sentence was finished all looked towards Captain Providence. He could understand it, while rusty in the tongue it was still very clear what the message wanted. The Captain then spoke back in a rushed voice.



"Good God! It seems we already have that contact Lord! I need to reply they are asking what we are doing here... from the Prut Meritocracy it seems if I understand correctly." He said.



" Prut Meritocracy... aye I will handle it. Remember Captain what you have been trained to do. Good luck, and report back what they say immediately." Franz said as the transmission ended and a new one started this time to the unknown ship.



A few minutes of silence followed as Providence thought on how to formulate his response. The Welzat foreign policy was simple, avoid aggression, and maintain the area until things are resolved or fired upon. The small country had to use these tactics, after all, there truly wasn't much to back it up if they bluffed. Finally, the officer spoke back in broken but understandable Low Prut at the new arrivals.



" This is Captain Oliver Providence of the WRN Grand Hall, we mean no harm, however, we do ask that your vessel maintains its current distance from Hasclantt Island, a territory of the Principality of Welzat. Again, we mean no harm and are representatives from the Principality of Welzat, simply repairing the island for use. Any further inquires please refer to the Welzat government, thank you." He said with a tinge of worry within, as things might get interesting and his ship was not ready for combat in the slightest.

[Neo Prutenia]

“Captain Providence, give us a moment. Please stay at the radio.”

Amelie put down the comms and looked one more time through her spyglass. She most definitely did not know that flag or whatever this principality was supposed to be. Or where.

“Well, at least we can reasonably rule out pirates.” The captain stroked her chin. She turned to the people present. “Herbert, Rudi, check the coordinates.”

Amelie turned to Henrike, uttering her name in a somewhat muffled manner:

“You wouldn’t happen to know what a Welzat is, would you?”

“I apologise, skipper, but I most definitely do not.” Hernike paused. She stepped closer to Amelie and looked in the direction of the Welzat vessel. “But the way they butchered our language suggest they are some Anglics.”

“Some? Just some?”

“There are so many such places and polities that it’s difficult to tell. I do speak some Anglic—and I literally mean ‘some’, not much better than their Low Prut—but I’d need to hear them talk a bit more. But yeah, the inflection, word position, und lack of grammatical gender suggests some Anglic. Maybe an archaic one?”

Henrike requested they spyglass from Amelie, who complied. Amelie then went over the coordinates with Herbert and Rudi. The instruments all confirmed what their guts been telling them all along—this was Hagens, no doubt about it. Even if the machines were wrong, the charts definitely were not. They could orient themselves by the ridge they had been measuring for several days and which they left barely a day ago. And the area was mapped and charted decades ago. There was no way this was some odd island they’d have missed.

Henrike meanwhile tried to puzzle together as much as she could from the flag. After a few minutes and headscratchers she had little to add. A horizontal bicolor, yellow and red, sans canton or charge, nor any other distinguishing marks. So, very little to go by. She gave back the spyglass.

“Any clues?”

“I’m afraid not, skipper.”

“Well, they’re in the wrong. Doesn’t matter who ‘they’ are. We have to sort this out.”

“Mhm.”

Henrike gave a nod in confirmation. She did seem interested to learn more, which wouldn’t be unusual for someone of her background. Amelie just seemed annoyed, but not more so than usual. She went for the comms and contacted the Grand Hall again:

“Captain Oliver Providence, this is captain Amelie Reepermacker again. I’m afraid I can’t comply with your instructions. You are most definitely trespassing on Hagens Island. I’ll send you the coordinates so you can compare them with your charts. Your instruments must have been off.”

[Welzat]

In a mad dash, the sailors who were just moments ago in the thick of chopping trees were now jumping straight into their inflatable boats. They had to make it back to the Grand Hall and protect her if things went south. However, not all had the same sort of urgency as the enlisted, Sergeant Gale and his exploration force had a mission; to lay claim and expand Welzat influence. Running back to the ship after raising the flag and naming their new possession just couldn't sit right in the Sergeant's stomach. With near autonomy in the ranks and only Captain Providence able to command them, Gale and his squad instead stood their ground on the island as the boats rushed back to the Grand Hall. It was a defiant ignorant attitude that was all too common in the younger aristocratic echelons that pushed the man to this odd sense of defiance but he had confidence that the day would be won by his country.

---

Captain Providence awaited an answer by the new arrivals. In his head, spouts of nervous thoughts for his ship and crew took over, however outside he still had a stoic, wise look to his wrinkled face. He had calmly told the crew to get back to the ship and be on standby while he could already imagine what diplomatic mass was trying to form to contact the country. Over and over again he remembered to not escalate but to hold the ground, giving up Hasclantt by a simple command was not an option but threatening the country was out of the question. Finally, the cackling of the comms came through and Providence listened intently not only for the message but to make sure in his extremely rusty Low Prut could be understood.

"Aw heavens.." He mumbled when the captain of the other ship refused his order and accused him of trespassing. For a minute he said nothing gathering his wits and words and then spoke back to the other captain.

"Captain Amelie Reepermacker, this is Captain Oliver Providence again from the WRN Grand Hall. My instruments are not off and our charts have nothing of this island, there must be a mistake somewhere. Please maintain distance from our ship, we once again mean no harm and are surveying this island. Please be aware unless ordered by my superiors I cannot leave the island. Any further inquiries refer to the Principality of Welzat Office of Foreign Affairs." He said with pauses in between each sentence so that his broken tongue of the language could be understood. Providence hoped the foreign ship would respect the distance and further tensions could be averted but he had the Grand Hall's DS30M on stand by if chaos came.

Armitage, Royal Capital of Welzat



Beacon Hall

The occasional adventurous traveler who came to the small country was always shocked by one thing; the absolute opulence of the nation's capital. Armitage was truly worthy of its title of Royal Captial, with cobblestone streets and Federal Style homes dotting the city. It was the aristocrat's playground and had been this way for hundreds of years. While the recent attacks by WAF agents shook up the capital, the normalcy was finally coming back after destroying the rebel hideouts and tightening any traffic in or out of the city.

Meanwhile, in the high hills of the city, the government buildings were nearly empty with most officials home until the chaos around the country was resolved but one man did not have that luxury and now would be faced with another test for the country. Prime Minister Franz Langer was like a soldier marching down the beautifully kept passages of Beacon Hall, where high ranking governmental employees worked, the old minister was on a mission to contact this Neo Prutenia with permission from the Prince himself to resolve the issue. An old handcrafted Oak door awaited him at his office as he opened it with purpose and immediately went to his iconic Rosewood parlor chair and waited. He wanted this Neo Prutenia to contact him first in this affair and knew it would be very soon with the constant updates from the Grand Hall pouring in.

[Neo Prutenia]

“They’re being willfully obtuse! They must be!”

Amelie didn’t address anyone in particular, she just generally vented. And she was most definitely in a foul mood over it; not that she had the necessary tact for diplomacy even at her best in the best of times, not of which was applicable in this situation.

“Providence, dear colleague, I will do no such thing. Nor will I accept your Befehl ist Befehl-nonsense. Whether or not you have any orders about anything is no concern of mine; no Welzater institution has any jurisdiction here nor would such a claim hold water in any court. Even if such were so, no such institution has any jurisdiction over my ship; we’re in Prut waters. You’re in Prut waters. I have no obligation to call any Welzat anything.”

She paused for a moment, just enough for captain Oliver to process it, then continued, much sharper and somewhat indignant:

“What I will do, however, is contact my superiors. I will call the Prut Office of Maritime Affairs, and they won’t give you any options to resolve this issue we’re having. They’ll come with quite a few more ships than I did, and they will arrest the whole lot of you. Arrest you, at best I might add.

Now, we’re coming over. You better have a chart at hand that clearly shows this island on it to present to me, as well as the written document of your so-called orders. I want to see both! Then we can chalk this up a navigational error and we can let the greyfaces and pencil-pushers solve this over missives or whatever it is they use for that nowadays. Honestly, I don’t… Hold on.”

Henrike paused her captain and gestured to put the comms on hold. Amelie just tilted her head up, quick and clipped, to signal her to ‘spit it out’.

“Skipper, maybe it’s just the language barrier.”

“They speak Low Prut. Somewhat.”

Henrike raised an eyebrow.

“Almost passable.”

They exchanged glances. It didn’t take long for Amelie to relent. Henrike didn’t even have to explain her intent; Amelie moved to the side, but remained very close by and with her finger on the comms, and allowed Henrike to take over. Henrike meanwhile mustered her best approximation of what she imagined Oliver Providence could possibly understand as a reasonable simulacrum of his own language:

“Skipper Provi-dance, I apologise for my limited words, but let us try to use your language, yes? I am Henrike Hildebrandt, the scientific officer and liaison. I can improvise a bit of the tongue. The skipper Reepermacker wants to meet with you. We will come to your side of the island with the Sternschein. We need to sort things out, yes? We mean no harm, we come in peace. Let us talk. Soon. We can together call our chefs and sort things out.”

Henrike, now grinning, gave the speaker back to her skipper. Amelie just rolled her eyes. Henrike did conjure up a somewhat passable speech; she spoke in a monotone voice to avoid mispronunciations, which made her sound almost like text-to-speech come to think of it, but her weird inflections and pauses, and the proper way she pronounced her and her captain’s names as well as the odd way pronounced Oliver Providence’s name, made it clear to any listener that there was a human on the other side of the receiver. She also missed that ‘chef’ didn’t mean the same thing in both languages, but she did give it a good try.

“You think they got it?”

“I hope so, skipper.”

Amelie addressed the Grand Hall once more:

“Wir kommen!” She turned to Henrike. “How do you say that in their language?”

“Hm, about the same.”

“Huh…” She then just said it again. “We’re comin’.”

[Welzat]

The few minutes of peace were well remembered as Oliver was caught off guard by the intensity of the foreign captain's tone. She spoke a little too quick and used complex words that frankly broke the Captain's intense concentration on keeping up with their mother tongue. As she paused, Oliver was still trying to make sense of the first sentence before another assault of Low Prut came over the comms, this time in a tone he knew was not friendly.

"Oh the Lord! The Academy should have taught me this one!" He groaned pitching the bridge of his nose as he tried to make sense of what was barked at him. One thing was certain, it was not a tone of a captain that was going to give up this piece of land with ease and go on its merry way. This worried Oliver as he had no idea if the poor Grand Hall was about to be devasted in a barrage of hellfire and brimstone from some advance weaponry or if it was some sort of intimidation to get the Prince's men out of Hasclantt without a drop of blood, regardless as his sailors poured back on the ship an order to be combat-ready had the troop scrabbling for guns and other defensive weapons. The situation was getting intese and just as Oliver was about to get back on the comms to ask in a broken tongue for a repeat of their message, a familiar language came over the comms.

He listened, as the voice which was obviously a different one from the captains, butchered his native tongue, however, this was no time for a lesson in the Anglo languages instead it relived him as he could understand rather clearly what the voice intended.

"Well no harm is better than destroying us I suppose...even if I do not like them getting near... and I shouldn't even be speaking to them this much... alas I must compromise." He mumbled to himself and started speaking back, slowly in his thick posh Welzat accent.

" Yes, talk is good! He mean no harm let us talk it out...perhaps meet on island... no weapons or harm... we can talk it out. Are you coming now my dear Skipper Reepmack?" He said speaking in a very clear tone he thought anyone could understand even if he got that last name wrong but Oliver wasn't exactly the master of foreign pronunciation and just hoped he didn't utterly mispronounce the name.

Now, the hope was to stall these sailors long enough for his superiors to call them off with some sort of deal before things turned physical. As Providence could not live with the thought of not coming back with all his sailors and he hoped these foreigners felt the same for their countrymen and truly meant a peaceful talk.

[Neo Prutenia]

“I don’t like it.”

“The language? The situation? The reply? … the ...”

“Yes.”

“Oh skipper, you’re being so dramatic.”

“Just tell them we’re mooring next to them. And no one get twitchy!”

“How can you be so unenthusiastic about a first contact?”

Amelie gave her orders to the crew. Very soon the Sternschein would circle the island and approach the Grand Hall. But they did have a few minutes. Several in fact. So close to the island it was a bit trickier and the captain definitely didn’t want to take the long way as it would appear like a retreat, a gesture she definitively couldn’t nor wanted to afford now. Slow and steady, and with some help from actually having the correct maps of the littoral and intertidal zone, the ship moved gracefully and deliberately around the now disputed island.

“I mean, it’s hardly a first contact, is it?”

“I beg you pardon?”

“There’s a …” Amelie thought about it for a second, mentally counting with one eye closed, before she reached a in her mind reasonable estimate, “… a million, at least, of such nations. You even speak their language.”

“Fair enough, but this nation in particular we know nothing about. It’s a first. Maybe it’s not unique or significant, but we still can’t afford to botch it. It would not only reflect poorly on the PM, but it could potentially deny us some great insight!”

While Henrike’s eyes shined, Amelie eyebrows raised displayed the textbook example of a resting bitch face. The apparent contempt; you could bottle it. Bottle it and sell it.

“Henrike, they’re sailing around in an obsolete vessel…”

“A classic! Or perhaps a sign of budgetary restraints! Recycling of old equipment for a new purpose!”

“… and they have no nautical sense nor proper cartography… “

“They’re explorers! Obviously! Right now chartering new waters and making new friends! Can’t blame them for faulty maps when they are rectifying that literally right now as we speak!”

“… and they have no protocol for first contact, or linguistic liaisons, or apparently any best practices for exactly this type of situation.”

“Because it’s the first time they’re experiencing it!”

“I give up.”

Amelie threw her arms up. At least the Sternschein was closing in. Not too fast—they didn’t want to appear aggressive. Steady but deliberate. Henrike rapped her fingers on the console.

“Ok, maybe they’re not the best seafarers. But! Maybe they are good chemists. Or musicians. Or cooks! What if we find out later that they’re miserable sailors but they’ve figured out the cure for cancer.”

Amelie looked at the Grand Hall. Then back at Henrike. She was skeptical and rather unconvinced.

“Yeah, they strike me as giants of gastronomy. Maybe we’ll exchange recipes. My dear Henrike, what if by the end of this day we’ll hold an entirely new way of making ‘Hákarl’ in our hands?! Perhaps even a non-potato-based ‘Stamppot’?! Dare we imagine…”

Amelie managed to produce a crocodile tear and the woman did not laugh or smile or even wince. The crew present was giggling. Even Henrike humoured her captain and grinned.

“And you refused to participate in the variety show last week, skipper. Could have played a part in Herbert’s show at least.”

“Yeah, skipper!” Herbert interjected, still giggling.

“Fine. If this all goes well, I’ll participate next time. If all goes well. Now, we’re close. Henrike, translate for us. Tell them to prepare for mooring, but make it sound nice. I… I don’t want to scare them.”

For all her abrasiveness Amelie still had sense as a captain and knew how to properly delegate, even if she often didn’t like doing so. The crew and Hernike gave her their ‘aye aye’-s and everyone went to their station. Henrike contacted captain Providence again.”

“Skipper Providence, we’re slowly approaching astern. Your stern… the back? See? We’re coming slow, nothing sudden. We will moor parallel to you, starboard. We’ll be portside to your starboard. Then we meet. You mean no harm, yes? We mean no harm too!”

Henrike turned to her captain. “Anything else? They did inquire about meeting on the island.”

“What, in the sand? And salt-caked dirt? Do I look like a crab to you?!”

“I won’t say that.”

“We’re seafolk. We meet ship to ship.” Amelie flared her nostrils and mumbled under her breath something about ‘tenderfoots’ and ‘landlubbers’. Hernike continued.

“Ship to ship, skipper Providence. Better so. We’ll have our comms and machines and books to help with communication.”

[Welzat]

As Providence awaited for an answer from the vessel he was prepping myself to speak on behalf of his beloved country, temporarily. His first priority would be to treat these strangers with a warm welcome, as was tradition in Welzat for all new meetings and secondly to see when communication with higher officials could be contacted. Captain Providence while a classically trained man was truthfully not one to negotiate deals for his country and truthfully deep down he rather not even speak with these foreigners, not out of malice but out of anxiety about his aging ship he commanded.

The Grand Hall had served the Welzat Navy well in its many years of service but it was woefully under equipped and more worrisome under gunned. In addition, their was zero support this far from the mainland and if things went down it would really go down. Alas, as he thought on about the ships glaring weaknesses the comms came back to life and the same speaker from before spoke.

As the speaker finished, Providence mumbled to himself about the “ship to ship contact” as he wanted to really see these people and gift them a classic Welzat smoking pipe (which was an unusually large pipe that amused most who were not used to the stranger item) but he returned to speak to them in a friendly tone.

“Skipper Reepmack, Skipper Reepmack... proceed with your mooring. We are waiting and open. Please contact me again when you are ready to communicate. One one final note my dear Skipper, is there anything else we Welzat men and women can help you with to make our communication easier?” He said in a posh friendly tone. It was more of a throwaway question just to show willingness to work with the foreigners, as was their really anything the crew could do?

[Neo Prutenia]

“We’re good, thank you. Give us a moment.” Henrike turned to Amlie, pausing the comms. “Anything I should add?”

“No, just that they should be ready. We’re approaching their stern, starboard.”

“That’s covered. Anything else?”

“No…” She thought about it for a moment. “No.”

Luckily for everyone involved the nautical terms in both languages were not only basically the same, but spoken and pronounced relatively the same as well, so there was no confusion. The Sternschein kept her slow and steady pace, oriented herself properly, and was sailed in a manner that would cause the least distress or alarm.

While she approached the captain had to make herself more presentable. Usually this wouldn’t be an issue, as the crew wasn’t supposed to meet anyone, and most definitely not to initiate first contact with someone—while morale wasn’t lax, most crewmembers enjoyed a lot of leeway as long as the mission wasn’t jeopardised and things were done, neat and properly and done by the end of the day, shift, or any other arbitrary deadline. By and large such has been the case. So far. Now, to captain Amelie’s great luck, as a woman she did not have to worry about shaving or keeping her beard trimmed and official. For her that was the only plus. She put on the rest of her uniform; her blue officer’s jacket, all buttoned up and somewhat hastily de-crinkled but clean at least, and her skipper cap with her official insignia. She made her hair into a simple bun, as a chignon would require too much time and would be too much of a hassle right now.

Hence why she was annoyed that Henrike managed to make a chignon. Most annoyingly, Henrike managed to make it look casual. She also put on a nice looking bluish-grey blouse—again, they had no access to the proper slate grey diplomatic uniforms, as they were never meant to do what they were about to do now. Henrike, however, had no headwear or hair pin to make it look really official, but she did improvise a nice ladylike coiffure with a handy hair clip and a bit of imagination.

The rest of the crew enjoyed the immense privilege of having to do none of that. They did have to make themselves at least presentable enough to not embarrass the ship. For the most part this involved putting on a clean shirt and quickly combing their hair back. The lazier ones just put on a standard seaman’s beanie and were done with it.

“Wait.”

“Skipper?”

“Are they folk of the iron god or of the carpet god?”

“That’s tricky. I reckon the iron god?”

“Are you sure?”

“Most of the Anglish-speaking folk are, as far as I’m aware. Although…”

“Yes?”

“They might be wall whisperers.”

“Which one are they now?”

“Let’s go with ‘iron god’ but try and don’t insult any of the other two as well?”

Amelie flared her nostrils and rolled her eyes. While most Prut had a certain nonchalance when it came to foreign religions, she just couldn’t be bothered to even distinguish between what in her mind were various sets of nonsense and fairytales that practically only differed in aesthetics and taboos. At least everyone was looking passably sharp as the Sternschein docked with the Grand Hall. While everyone had to gesture a bit more with arms and legs than usual, they managed to dock and moor the ships without a hitch. A good sign and a good start. The crew of the Sternschein took the initiative right away—after securing everything and waving and signaling to their counterparts on the Grand Hall, they extended the plank and lined up properly and officially greeted their counterpart crew.

Amelie and Henrike went first, in that order, without any delay. Amelie stopped for just a moment, as if to inspect if the plank was secured satisfactorily, gave a nod to her crew, then continued stepping. She greeted the Grand Hall’s crew silently, just with a sharp and long nod and a big grin, her arms on her hips and she let her translator speak first and introduce her.

“Dear new friends, this is skipper Amelie Reepmacker, and I’m the science liaison and your translator for today, Henrike Hildebrandt. Pleasure to meet you all!”

Henrike had an extraordinary enthusiasm about her. Amelie looked a bit too stiff and officious compared to her more jovial mate, but it was rather clear that the captain of the Sternschein put in the effort to greet them properly.

[Welzat]

As the two ships docked the crew aboard the Grand Hall prepared themselves to meet these strange new characters. Truthfully, the entire scenario was most bizarre and would surely be the talk to of country in the coming weeks, no matter the outcome. Providence and the crew scurried to look presentable to the guests of honor with sailors changing out of dirty work shirts into the unifying dark royal blue uniforms as the Captain himself checked himself over and over again for any faults. The first impression was everything in Welzat culture, millions have been made, peace has blossomed, appointments to high offices, all were settled in that first minute of seeing an individual. While the crew really had no idea how of the culture or customs of these foreigners, the principalities sailors acted as if they were meeting the Prince himself making mad dashes to clean the deck and the likes.

Captain Providence still had heard nothing from the mainland, a rather odd event but it could bother the older gentlemen, he would have to try and convince these guests to allow Hasclantt to be under Welzat hands. After all, it was one tiny island truly out in the middle of nowhere, but the amount of fish seen around the beautiful waters was unreal. Schools of Tuna and whitefish roamed this part of the ocean free from massive poaching of their kind and if the principality could take ownership of the island, the vaults of the aristocrats would be oozing with even more wealth. This was important and Providence knew he had to serve his country correctly by planting the flag permanently on those white sand beaches.

The old man with his graying hair and wrinkled, sun-bleached skin, took note one last time of his bright white uniform and its particular resemblance to the white sand of Hasclantt it was an odd detail but one to keep his mind in check for the coming talks. The Sternschein was now upon his vessel. Providence and a fresh LT. from the academy by the name of Lee Jusslus awaited to greet the guests. The LT. was familiar with the Low Prut language and would provide any extra translation the Captain could not remember. The two were vastly different with Jusslus young bright demeanor contrasting hard with the more stoic faced leader of the bunch but alas having such a young eager man onboard was good for morale on those hard-working days.

Finally, it was time as the plank came over the recently cleaned deck of the Grand Hall two what Providence could only imagine was the Captain and a translator came aboard the ship. A greeting was said and all of the Welzat crew smiled back with the Captain himself speaking in his native tongue.

"Hello, Skipper Reepmacker and Liaison officer Hildebrandt! Welcome aboard my Grand Hall! I am Captain Oliver Providence and this here is Lieutenant Lee Jusslus! If I may, as in the tradition of our people I would like to shake hands and gift you with this Welzat pipe! This overly large piece of wood is our traditional way of smoking tobacco and we hand these out to all new guests of honor such as you all. So if I may I would like to step forward good people!" He said with a posh slow tone with the warmest smile he could muster for his guest. The pipe was in his left hand and his right was ready to shake if this culture even allowed this.

[Neo Prutenia]

Just for a second, one tiny moment Amelie took a half-step back at the offending object. Henrike certainly noticed the short and harsh glare, the sudden barely perceptible change in her stance and posture, but she was raised in the same culture as her captain and she also got to know Amelie rather well recently. Henrike was relieved when she saw how deftly the skipper spun it into her favour. Luckily for them, Providence’s translator provided exactly the time delay needed to avoid a faux pas.

“Skipper Providence, let me first thank you for the warm welcome. A rarity at sea, but of that we’re both keenly aware. Even rarer is to meet new folk—and although we share this great blue world sea, and voyage her vast, we were strangers til this moment right here. And how you approached me today if proof enough that my people and your people never met before!”

She laughed, and went for the handshake. This would give Henrike the opportunity to convey that to Oliver in his language, and perhaps to Jusslus to correct or add if anything was amiss. And Oliver did correctly assume that handshakes were not part of native Prut custom—nor was smoking for that matter, but that he’d find out soon enough—but Amelie was familiar with the concept itself. Or rather that outlanders greeted each other in said manner.

She didn’t immediately grasp the intricacies, as she tried to exactly remember how it was supposed to go. Oliver initiating it was hint enough for her to pick the right hand, but she almost went for his forearm to grab him there, before she reconsidered, pulled back, and grabbed his hand. She looked him in the eyes, smiled, and shook his hand—firmly, perhaps unusually so for a woman, and deliberately.

“Nice to meet you.”

Henrike was glad her skipper handled the situation so well. So far. She translated the last bit when she noticed Amelie pointing at the pipe, then raising her hand and waving Oliver a ‘no’.

“With all due respect to the tradition of your people—and it is a fine tradition, one we share—I have to politely decline the gift offer. My vessel is a science ship, and we’re on our routine operations. As such diplomacy was never a consideration. And while one can never truly expect what the sea might bring and thus one has to be prepared for anything, for this I’m not prepared.

I cannot in good conscience accept such a gift, even an earnest one, if I cannot reciprocate. And sadly I am not able to do so. It wouldn’t be an exchange between two new friends, and I would be acting in bad faith if I pretended it were such without reciprocation just for diplomatic convenience. Accepting it would be like you offering me a tribute, a sign of submission. I reckon neither of us wants relations to start that way, nor give the hawkish-minded folks back home, either home, any munition or cause to draw nasty conclusions from this encounter.”

She paused, letting the translators do their work and the message sink in. But she didn’t give him an opportunity to properly answer. In proper Prut manner she seized then kept the initiative. In her mind it was better to turn this into a fait accompli and just continue in a more desirable direction. Thus:

“But! But, dear colleague, if your traditions permit it, I would love to share a glass and a toast in friendship with you.”

Somehow Herbert, a crewmen of hers, just appeared bottle in one hand, two glasses in the other. And what a bottle it was. A perfectly dark almost black bottle sans any labels, with very nicely carved and sculpted reliefs depicting apparently some vineyard or winery and a brand or trademark; it was red wine. The two glasses were not as fancy, just simple glass, but durable, yet so quaint in comparison.