OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT, TO THE NATIONS OF THE WORLD
The state of international affairs, as many foreign heads of state and other officials may recognise, has become remarkably muddled as of late. Up until this point the world has enjoyed a state of relative peace and stability, which is now being threatened by the rising tide of chaos and war. The global balance of power has shifted in some manner, and we find ourselves in a world very different from the one we lived in yesterday.
In the spirit of promoting better understanding between the existing powers of the world and emergent ones, the Britannian government has opted to call for an international conference at the Salisbury Palace, a royal residence a few miles outside of the city of Salisbury. This meeting will, hopefully, allow the nations of the world to develop their foreign policy in accordance with the chaos that is overtaking the globe.
In light of recent global events, the primary issues to be discussed are as follows:
-Terrorism
-Trade agreements/economics
-Keeping the peace on a global scale, perhaps through an organisation
Delegates and representatives from all nations are more than welcome to attend. However, due to a recent spate of stabbings, disembowelments, shootings, decapitations, kidnappings, muggings, gunfights, lynchings, heists, catastrophic explosions and various other inconveniences at Britannian-held conferences, no weapons aside from purely ceremonial ones will be permitted. Each nation may send up to two delegates, and up to one guard per delegate.
There will be refreshments.
Sincerely,
The Britannian Government
It was a relatively quiet day in the Salisbury Palace; then again, it always was. The palace was rarely ever used by the royal family-if they went there, it was to enjoy the tranquillity and seclusion that the relatively isolated palace offered. So it was no surprise that it was picked as the location for the coming conference-the delegates wouldn't be pestered by all the hustle and bustle of Kensington, or even the strong, salty smell of the air in the port city of Salisbury. It was, to put things lightly, in the middle of nowhere.
James Roberts, the war hero-turned-diplomat, leaned up against the outer gate of the palace, looking at the line of Horse Guards who stood ready to greet the arriving delegates. Roberts had always been astonished at the discipline of the unit-as an ex soldier, he thought that the regular army discipline was strict. But these Horse Guards-you could pull a gun on one and they probably wouldn't even flinch. Well, they would definitely move, but it would be to grab their holstered .455 Revenant pistols and blow a grapefruit-sized hole in the chest of their assailant.
Shaking his head, James walked into the palace itself. It was not as elegant or refined as the Summer Palace in Kensington, but it had a certain 'country manor' charm to it. And it was certainly spacious. He hoped the delegates wouldn't think too lowly of the government-or worse, the monarchy-because the building wasn't exactly the most glamorous around. Taking a seat at the conference table, he began rifling through a sheaf of papers that had been given to him by the government, detailing what Britannia hoped to accomplish in this meeting of nations.








