To Defend An Ally: The Victor's Feast [MT|IC|DIPLOMATIC]

[Palmyrion]

[Central Band of the British Royal Legion - I Vow To Thee (Instrumental)]
[OOC THREAD - APPLY HERE]

The condition upon which God hath given liberty to man is eternal vigilance; which condition if he break, servitude is at once the consequence of his crime and the punishment of his guilt.
—John Philpot Curran

THE PRICE OF LIBERTY

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[Previously on To Defend An Ally...]

The Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth, in its 200-year existence as a sovereign modern nation, was no stranger to liberty being paid in blood. It paid for it in the rebirthing wars of its sovereignty, during the First War of Sovereignty (1791-1800). It paid to keep it in defense of a sovereignty hard-won, in the Second War of Sovereignty (1815-1820), which saw its first king, Maximillian the Refounder, gravely injured in combat defending the nation he refounded. It paid for it in Queen Theodora's reign, which saw the Palmyrian Unification - considered largely analogous to Italy's Risorgimento - bring the Palmyrian islands under the Crown. It paid for it during the First (1869-1877) and Second (1915-1919) Moro-Palmyrian Wars, during the Revolution of 1931 (1931-1935), the Great Levanoran War (1940s-1950s), and all throughout the Cold War, when the 20th Century tested the resolve of a crowned democracy that reckoned, evolved, and reformed with its qualities and imperfections.

The 21st Century brought to the Royal Commonwealth perhaps its ultimate internal crucible to date, as the Emergency (2010-2025) tested the internal resolve and cohesion with the state as insurgency - the consequence of long-suppressed inequities and contradictions resulting from stark, unresolved development gaps and expeditionary overextension - carved a path of violence and ruin. The Palmyrian state won, though its reckoning left it vulnerable to external invasion and its dominions overseas cut off from their mother-realm. In just 2025 alone, the Royal Commonwealth, facing the violent 2025 General Elections and the DRA insurrection, endured two invasions: Einheitswelt in late February, and Greznov in early July.

Democracy and liberty won, as both invasions were repelled, and a new democratically-elected government was installed - but at great cost in blood. Eternal vigilance and bloodletting were the collective price of the freedom and sovereignty of a nation that reckoned with itself and faced down foreign invaders that followed the trail of blood the Royal Commonwealth was hemorrhaging into the water.

Reconstruction began in earnest in the wake of a fiery, bloody victory for the nation-state. The dead were buried, and the wounded were mended. Infrastructure and services lost to the fires of the past 15 years were restored, painstakingly so. The DRA insurrection had been reduced to scattered holdouts in the remote areas of the Royal Commonwealth, fighting on borrowed time as the state restored services, governance, and infrastructure in places that the government retook from the DRA.

As a celebration of victory - and to inspire Palmyrians for the road to recovery - and restoration of lost greatness - that lay ahead, the Royal Commonwealth declared victory celebrations in the long weekend leading to August 25, the National Heroes' Day.

For now, the victors feast as the war had been won. Now they rest and feast, to prepare for the peace ahead to be won through painstaking reconstruction.

---

July War Memorial
22 August 2025 - AFTERNOON
Lorne Balfe - Calling Home

The July War Memorial took a record time from commissioning to completion, completed in no more than 20 days from August 1 to August 21. Upon its steles - clad in basalt sourced from the volcanic quarries of the Palmyrian isles - were inscribed, through photoemulsion and sandblasting, the names of the dead of the July War Memorial: soldiers, sailors, aviators, everyday Palmyrians who lived, laughed, loved, cried...died for their country. Some upwards of 6,000 names of people who, beyond the call of duty, lived lives as everyday citizens, joined by thousands more from the legion crews of merchant mariners that flew Palmyrian flags and were preyed on by Greznovian, Saressan, and Salbertian merchant raiders.

Not far off, the sovereign's podium, built of mangkono, stood a fixture of sympathy and regal authority, whereupon the sovereign, a visibly and heavily-pregnant Lakambini Jilliane I, was to give a speech inaugurating the July War Memorial. A short but brutal and pioneering war, it saw heavy drone use in what was predominantly an air-naval war that barely touched any soil, in addition to the widespread proliferation of containerized weapons systems and C4ISR systems that allowed the conversion of civilian freighters into ersatz Q-ships.

"Citizens, nation, world. Greetings. Today, we are gathered solemnly for an occasion of reflection, of somber remembrance of a peace broken and a war survived, of the brave men and women who laid their lives in this short but brutal war."

Her Majesty the Lakambini, dressed in a traje de mestiza appropriate a formal afternoon event, began her address in front of officials in formal afternoon attire, and beyond the barriers a multitude crowd - many fresh from work or school in a special half-day - in everything from casuals to informals watching the inauguration to a memorial to the people lost in a short but brutal war that shocked the world.

"Each name on these walls is a future taken away brutally by the Greznovian nation-state's aggression. Each name on these walls is a story that Greznov tried to burn and destroy into oblivion. Each name on these walls is a story that Greznov violently ended."

The afternoon sun shone gloomy amidst the clouds, as if to mourn with the crowd in sympathy. The sky shone grey, a light drizzle forming as if the heavens were themselves mourning the dead who paid the ultimate price for the sovereignty of their nation.

"But they shall never grow old, as we that remain grow old. Forever they shall remembered, for their vigor and sacrifice for the nation. Immortal shall they be, in the minds of our progeny and beyond. This memorial to the fallen of this war shall see to that immortalization of our fallen heroes and heroines: to those now on eternal patrol, to those now under the command of the seas and the skies, to those who paid the ultimate price for our nation's continued sovereignty."

The July War, short but brutal, left the nation forever shocked. External invasion did reached Palmyrian sovereign territory thrice: in 1830, when pirate fleets threatened an archipelago they thought ripe and defenseless for the looting; during the First Moro-Palmyrian War from 1869 to 1877, when the Moro Sultanates launched a ground invasion of the island of Visayas; during the worst years of the Great Levanoran War, when the strategically-placed Royal Commonwealth was targeted with naval and aerial bombardment and invasion; and during the Einheitswelt invasion just last February, when Einheitswelt, seeking conquest of the Palmyrian islands, invaded the Royal Commonwealth. What made the July War different was that it had opened a Pandora's Box: drone swarms, the revival of commerce raiding and privateering, and multi-domain animosity between Palmyrion and Greznov both cold and hot.

But for now, they licked their wounds. They mourned their dead, laying them to rest. In the days to come, they seek to prepare for the long road of warfare ahead.

"As your sovereign, I declare this memorial, an open and democratic space of reflection and memory, open. Thank you."

The crowd and the delegation gave their applause, as the Lakambini departed the podium and opening ceremony moved forth. With a ceremonial ribbon-cut, a wreath laid by the sovereign couple, a three-volley salute from a nearby battery of five 152mm howitzers, and taps followed by a flyover of fighter jets in a missing man formation, the memorial was opened to public visitation and reflection.

[Allanea]

July War Memorial
22 August 2025 – AFTERNOON

The Allanean ambassador rose to speak. Clad in the dark-blue uniform of his service, the black-and-brass scabbard of his dirk glimmering at his side, he addressed the assembly.

“Every nation mourns in its own fashion, and each war leaves behind its own kind of grief. There are those who speak of the fallen as though they were but children, torn from their mothers by callous statesmen and cast into struggles they could not comprehend. Others wail of their dead as helpless victims, robbed of life by faceless cruelty, as though they had never borne arms, nor chosen to stand in the shield-wall.

“But this shall not be the voice of Palmyrian sons and daughters, nor of their widowed. Neither shall Allanea remember its slain in such a manner – though the Greznovite has committed injustices beyond counting.

“When Judas Maccabeus, Hammer of the Lord, shattered the Seleucid host at Emmaus, the people of Israel did not remember him as victim, but as victor. The memory of that struggle is not one of lamentation, but of strength and glory, and even to this day eight days of celebration remain part of the Jewish faith.”

“So too in this day. As Maccabeus at Emmaus struck down a Greek host seven times his number, so have the heroes of Palmyrion inflicted losses sevenfold upon the invader. The hand outstretched to grasp the wealth of the Commonwealth has been hewn away. The foot raised to profane its shores has been severed. And those who would seize Palmyrion’s soil have not been granted even enough of it to bury their dead.”

“Years from now, when a Palmyrian who is today a child welcomes a guest into their home, they shall point to a portrait – a man or woman in uniform, set within a black frame. And they shall say: ‘This was my father, or this was my mother. They were heroes. They were buried with honor, and the Queen herself honored them. But those whom they fought lie in unmarked graves beneath the sea, and the invaders’ money broke and fled.’”

“No man can rejoice in the death of their loved ones, nor can any rejoice in the fall of the righteous. But our memory shall ever be bound with pride and with dignity, and perhaps a small consolation also – that men and women such as these once lived among us, and that we, perhaps, may share in some small portion of their virtue. For it is written: “Be of good courage, and he shall strengthen your heart, all ye that hope in the Lord.”

[Polish Prussian Commonwealth]

---

July War Memorial | Evening, 22 August 2825 A.L / 2025 A.D
Margrethe Godwinsdatter, Empress of Goetterland & 'Terwa'

---

Amidst the hubbub, two figures remained quiet and reserved.

Empress Margrethe Godwinsdottir was dressed in a light cotton sundress - curled up like a cat in her seat.

To her side, her tutor - her nursemaid - her constant companion - watched the proceedings with far more interest. Though her whole body was shrouded in a plain-white garment, and her face hidden behind that frowning bronze mask, Margrethe knew her 'Aunt Terwa' intimately - and she could tell from the way her body shifted, from the way she sat up, alert, that something of import had caught her eye.

"What gives, my governess?" Margrethe asked, as she half-listened to the Allanean ambassador.

"This man..." 'Terwa' paused. "Yes, We can see, clearly. This man's little finger is worth more than the whole of Palmyrion put together. Be on your guard around him, Our child. He is, presently, dangerous, and so is his nation."

"I don't see the issue."

"Have you read the file we hold on Allanea?"

"Yes, what of it? Even if they are mighty, we are far away, and the affairs of Elutheria are of little import to such a nation."

"Perhaps. But you see, Margrethe. They are rich, and they are foolish. They have the means, but they do not possess the method. See how much they lavish on Palmyrion."

"Is not Palmyrion important?"

"The land itself is, yes. An enviable location, geographically; resources piled high to the sky."

"So what is the issue?"

"Palmyrion's government is, in my estimation, weak. How else does one explain the countless insurgencies? How else do you square the enormous rising of their minorities, all in quick succession?"

"That is true, yes."

"But so long as Allanea supports it - as long as they indulge it, rather, Palmyrion will be secure. That poses difficulties, if we are to woo Palmyrion - and I do not need to elaborate to you the value of wooing Palmyrion."

"I hope you do not mean that literally." Margrethe scowled. "I have little wish to be wed to a Palmyrian, Lady Terwa."

"Oh-ho-ho~!" Terwa chuckled deeply. "Do not worry, my child. I would never inflict such a fate upon you. Come now - the speeches are beginning to wrap up. Be on your best behavior, and try not to drop a slur."

"Hmph."

---

July War Memorial | Evening, 22 August 2825 A.L / 2025 A.D
The Blauveldter-Ryszanan Delegation

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"But they shall never grow old, as we that remain grow old-"

At those words, Aleksy Myszkowski-Skarbek resisted the urge to spit. He knew those words too - engraved on his heart as they were. The First World War loomed large in the minds of all Blauveldt and Ryszana - the Two Miracles of the Marne, Stoliska's children diving into hell, the uhlans of death of House Skarbek and Sweibodzice forcing their way past the Sclanevi mountain-forts - it was a time no less hallowed than Ryszana's earliest days. To hear them recruited in service to this was a thing grotesque to him - so grotesque that it even drove the lingering fear of The Tower from him for a moment.

He felt a sharp smack on his shoulder - Sister Anastazja clasped a gloved hand there, leaning in. "Ambassador," she said. "Your distaste is showing."

"Is it?" he grumbled, as he carefully knitted his face back into a careful mask of diplomatic geniality. "A lapse on my part. The cameras caught it, didn't it?"

"Maybe."

"Most of the attention will be on the Lakanbini and the Royal Family." Oliwia piped up, smiling. "I wouldn't worry too much. If they ask, just say you had indigestion."

"I shall. It would not even be false." The unsettled feeling returned as he glanced at the cloaked woman with a bronze mask. "Though - not due to any, ah, actions taken on the part of our host."

"She can do little here." Sister Anastazja cautioned - her bright eyes shaded by her dulled kettle-helmet. "She knows as well as any of us that beginnings are fragile times. She will be meek and mild as a lamb, here, Ambassador. You know this."

"I thank you for the reminder. But...instinct dies hard, so to speak." He cast a last, nervous glance at 'The Tower', and returned to observing whatever came next.

[Tiami]

July War Memorial
22 August 2025 - AFTERNOON

Amidst the crowd, the Amadorian delegation - if you could call it that - sat, enjoying the verbose speech. Present for Amador, Princess Elsa Lan and her husband, Haemir Farnor and their daughter, Renna Lan. In the wake of bastardly assault on Palmyrion by United Imperial STates of Greznov, the world watched as a belligerent overseas power attempted to assail the very foundations of international trade - freedom of navigation, if only because one nation did not give in to their Greznovan aggression. While Amador stood in support of its allies during this assault, it was meager at best - largely economic and diplomatic, with military aid during the initial missile swarm that nearly wreaked havoc upon Palmyrion soil. Perhaps her best role during the war was housing Royals of the Palmyrion Crown during the conflict in order to keep continuance of governance for the nation secure, but also for protection. Members of the Royal Family that left for Nilena Thalor, the capital of Amador's Ilethlean province in the Levanoran regions, included Princess Mavis, the former Lakambini Elizabeth and hers twins, Nathaniel and Julia and Jilliane's eldest, Amelia. All were present for the Memorial, with them having returned home following the conclusion of the conflict. For the Amadorian retinue, accompanied with them by six members of the Eternal Guard, the Crown's personal protective detail, it was a pleasant moment to be in Palmyrion without the worry of an insurgency and internal strife that has wracked the nation for much of the twenty-first century.

Elsa, adorned in a simple black gown laced with traditional Alfar foliage designs, sat comfortably with her husband and daughter, Haemir and Renna respectfully. She held the hand of her husband, who himself wore a traditional black suit and tie, while her daughter, no more than six years of age, wore a moderate black dress of similar design to the Princess and Archon of Ilethlean. All three wore simple gold-chain necklaces sporting green pendants, as is tradition for members of the Alfar Royal Family when attending more somber international events such as funerals and memorial services.

All three Alfar royals, largely Elsa and Haemir, noted in attendance countless families and dignified members of the international community such as the Allanean Minister of Foreign Affairs, Creighton Holloway and Grand Ambassador Peter Nizhinsky, the Vice Premier Kritsada Thavornchai and Ambassador Thilaphon Sulinthon of the People's Republic of Joyea, the High Archoness Scarlet Silvana and Archon Azura Silverheart, head of the Relikan Diplomatic Corp of the the United Federation of Relikai, and various other nations in attendance. For the young Lady Renna, it was her first formal appearance on the international stage. A smart young elf, she still retained her childike innocence and nervousness and it would soon shine through as a tug of her dress soon had Elsa's attention turned towards her daughter, whose beady piercing blue eyes looked up towards her mother, as if she had need of something.

"M-m-mommy?" She stuttered, fidgeting slightly with her mother's dress as her posture slumped every so slightly, signifying her waning attention towards the memorial.

"Yes, my little one?" Responded Elsa, leaning down towards her daughter to give her an ear. "What is it?"

Renna spoke, this time with more confidence. "How much longer is the old lady gonna talk? I wanna play - I'm bored."

"Not much longer my dear," Elsa continued, this time looking over to Haemir who offered a chuckle and then a low sigh. "Remember decorum in public my dear - Straighten your back, formal speech, and pay attention. We are offering our respects... but fear not my love, I shall have your father play with you soon..."

"Only if you are to join, Elsa..." Haemir chimed in, whispering into his wife's ear. "I shan't keep up with the likes of our child."

Renna giggled and then nodded compliantly with her mother and father's wishes - she quickly fixed her attention back to whom she deemed an 'old lady' and straightened her posture, giving as much respect as a child of six summers could.

The speech itself, presented by Elsa's friend, the Lakambini Jilliane, was somber, reflecting on the lives lost during the attacks, as well as the many sacrifices paid at home abroad. Elsa could tell in Jilliane's tone, though formal and practiced, that there was sadness behind her words - it had truly affected her seeing her countrymen lay down the ultimate sacrifice to ensure a brighter tomorrow. In spite of the darkness, Elsa saw the light. The light of Palmyrion's heart and its resistance to those that would see it destroyed. Elsa respected this and knew in her heart that the future had never been brighter for the people and government of Palmyrion now. As the speech finally ended, Elsa, Haemir and Renna would soon find themselves applauding its message and conclusion. It was the hope of the Amadorian Archon that she would soon be able to give her condolences and respects personally to her dear friend. Elsa also found the words of the Allanean Ambassador, Peter Nizhinsky, to be enlightening and appreciative - Elsa in particular was quite appreciative of the Allanean participation during the war in defense of Palmyrion.

[Palmyrion]

July War Memorial
22 August 2025 - AFTERNOON
Luke Richards - Fateful News

The Lakambini had arrnaged for her siblings' return to Palmyrian soil, with the Archon of the Ilethlean Isles. Elsa had been a stalwart friend to the Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth and the people of Palmyrion for upwards of a century and a half now: first, under the late years of Queen Theodora, then all the way through the blood and brimstone of the 20th Century, and then through the reckoning of the 21st Century. It was a friendship between families tested, refined, reforged, and strengthened through mutual struggle, mutual sacrifice, and mutual ardor between two neighboring nations that had shared centuries of history between them. They had been kind enough to shelter the rest of the Royal Family - and with them, the deposition protocols should Jilliane be deposed and executed - as the first two-thirds of the year 2025 brought upon Palmyrion blood and brimstone alike: the Einheitswelt invasion in February, the violent general election season, and now the Greznovian invasion. The deposition protocols allowed the family to transition to normal, civilian lives free of royal title, and on foreign soil; thankfully, it never had to be.

And now, the memorial would soon host a reunion as much as it hosted memorial and remembrance.

"Mama!" was Amelia's running, crying words as she ran to Jilliane, separated from her mother for four agonizing months from April to now.

Jilliane, heavily pregnant as she was, lowered herself to meet her child as Amelia briskly toddled to her, tears running wet on her face as she ran to her mother who received her with a warm hug. Jill herself broke into tears, her child in the womb kicking as mother and child shared a hug after four months of separation. To Amelia, four months felt like an agonizing forever for a toddler still 21 months tender; to Jilliane, this was the heavy price a ruling mother paid in the line of precarious duty in a time of strife. For both, this reunion was a promise: that once again, Palmyrion shall become a place where one can raise one's family in freedom, safety, and peace.

Beside her, Gerard, Mavis, and Maxwell - ever the rambunctious trio that she remembered them for, even as she remembered fondly their sibling catfights in their juvenile days - shared a group hug, with Gerard and Maxwell tightly embracing Mavis in both of their arms and Neda III, the Holy Roman Empress, just watching the trio cheerfully hug their sister like she was worth a trillion dollars. It was a reunion hug that came from the depths of one's heart, the conclusion of what was more than a mere separation; it was a reunion hug whose depth came from a precariously dangerous separation, as Jilliane, Maxwell, and Gerard did what they had done to win the tumult and war at home, so they can reunite to help win the peace once again.

"Guys, I'm so glad you are still alive..." sobbed a tearful Mavis as she sunk her face into the sleeves of her brothers' full-dress coats. She'd heard they were both in the fight: Gerard even engaged in dogfights with the best of Greznov's naval aviators, and Maxwell himself got splattered with shrapnel (and his face had scars and scabs to show for it) and even had to transfuse blood from his veins to an amputee's.

"Don't worry, Mav, we'll always come back home. To coffee, to palace silog, to our family Minecraft server, to us spamming Markiplier E on the family Telegram GC, to the sibling cuddle puddles. We always do." said Gerard who stoically held back tears with a playful remark.

"Well, I'm still in one piece, Mav, I just have a lot more pieces in me now." a Maxwell laughed away his sobs with a morbidly humorous remark about the scars on his face, of the fragmentation splatters he sustained when his ship got hit by a Greznovian anti-ship missile.

Jilliane, now carrying Amelia on her left and a growing baby in her belly, walked with her husband Jason to the trio, who were still seemingly in a tearful hug puddle between them.

"Manang Jill!" Mavis remarked, as she briskly walked to Jill for a hug, with Gerard and Maxwell following after and joining the hug, careful not to bother Amelia or to otherwise manhandle a heavily pregnant woman like Jilliane was. Jill could only hug them with her right, as Amelia rested on her left; Jason looked on, a tear in the eye of the rather burly ex-Marine who had just spent the last few months leading a battalion of mercenaries in his home province as a colonel-in-chief.

This...was why they all fought the wars as they did. This, was why they now had to win and nurture the peace as they shall.

They could not afford to be separated like this again.

And for Elizabeth, the former Lakambini-regent who gave way to Jilliane, now walking toward the hug puddle with her twins Nathaniel and Julia in tow, before stopping in front of Jilliane and exchanging a heartfelt eye-to-eye with her?

"Thank you, manang Elli."

It was gratitude from the depths of Jill's heart to a woman who bore the brunt of the hatred and violence of the past 6 years, the woman who won the war in the Royal Commonwealth's darkest of days in the wake of Alexander II's assassination. It was gratitude from the depths of a woman who now was charged with winning the peace, after her predecessor had won the war. It was gratitude from a woman who now had to keep the light shining, after her predecessor led them through the darkness of the gauntlet-tunnel that was the past 6 years.

[Palmyrion]

23 AUGUST 2025
Heroes' Weekend

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Royal Citadel Outer Grounds - MORNING

It had been a hard month's work for civilian auxiliary salvage crews and the Navy's Mobile Diving and Salvage Units, recovering Greznovian wreckage from the AO while under Palmyrian naval and air cover against a four-nation coalition operating with a hospital ship as a human shield. It had been a hard month's work getting the wreckage cleaned up, sanitized, and demilitarized for exhibits.

But now, here it was. Across the Citadel's outer grounds, carefully-curated pieces of wreckage with belt stanchions setting them apart from the rest of the populace, were arrayed in the publicly-accessible streets and corridors of a citadel that has stood for almost 1,000 years in one form or another. This was a citadel that started as a stockaded camp, with a keep where the local chieftain lived and worked; from then, it had become a colonial castle patterned after Archinian castles, and presently its current for as a polygonal fortress complex that had seen warfare evolve from roundshot and sail to jets and hypersonics. Now, it hosted the wreckage of a fleet and airforce of conquest that met its bloody karmic end at Her Majesty's doorstep, with flight decks, weapons, and aircraft carcasses splayed across a citadel complex that has seen its own fair share of human violence.

From then, until August 25, entry tickets were reduced, from 100 pesos a head to 80 pesos for regular entry, and from 80 pesos a head to 60 pesos for PWDs, senior citizens, and pregnant women. As the gates opened at 8AM - the start of any typical workday on Palmyrian soil - visitors flocked to the exhibits of recovered wreckage, taking pictures of themselves and the wreckage as they came to see the exhibits. Part of the exhibits also indicated which piece of wreckage was going to be recycled for other uses, and which piece of wreckage was going to be used in the construction of artificial reefs called Victory Reefs. A portion of the exhibits were also devoted to the promotion of such Victory Reefs, marketed as a means to revitalize Palmyrian fisheries and reefs destroyed by Greznovian aggression.

Similar exhibits were also made across the capital, with the burnt carcasses of Greznovian naval vessels displayed in specially-curated and guarded events for all to see. The many parks of the Royal Commonwealth - sprawling public expanses of green - would, until August 2025, be host to pieces of Greznovian wreckage paraded as Palmyrion's trophies of victory, with nearby temporary flea markets holding "loot sales" of goods seized from Greznovian, Salbertian, and Saressan merchant ships.

---

Royal Citadel - 11AM

[INT. A chamber in the Royal Citadel. While the interior design is stately, it is far less gilded than one would expect for a chamber in a royal palace. At the far end of the chamber opposite the door is a podium of mangkono, graced with the Arms of Dominion of the Royal Commonwealth. Guests are seated in seats facing the podium.]

"...when a Greznovian aircraft carrier was struck and disabled, the Greznovian naval aviators threw themselves into a desperate, last-ditch kamikaze charge against the Palmyrian and allied forces south of the Islamic Republics of Sulu and Mindanao, where the Battle of Sovereignty Day happened in the dark hours of July 1st."

The Chancellor, Evelyn Sta. Ana, issued forth an excerpt from Gerard's Medal of Valor citation, which Prince Gerard, the much-vaunted "Firestarter" and fighter ace prince of the Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth, had earned for his valorous participation in the battle. It was not the first time he'd ever brushed with death - but never had he fought peer enemies until the Greznovian invasion of the Palmyrian home archipelago.

"The Greznovian kamikaze charge happened when the Palmyrian fighters had expended their long-range beyond-visual-range air-to-air missiles, with many having returned to their bases or carriers to rearm and refuel; this charge endangered allied forces in the area, already greatly damaged by the brutal Greznovian opening salvo of cruise missiles. CPT PRINCE GERARD was among those few who, despite being depleted of long-range munitions, chose to stay and engage the Greznovian kamikaze charge head on, and even took upon himself the initiative of rallying Navy and Air Force fighter aviators still in the air to engage the Greznovian kamikaze charge head on."

Surely, someone else would have gained the Medal of Valor for that as well, no? However, the Air Force decided to pick him specifically for the award. The Greater Prussian Alliance picked him for the Greater Prussian Iron Cross. Was it because he had the most kills among the dogfighters? Or was it because at the time, he was audibly breaking, at the slip between madness and sanity from 36 hours on modafinil? Maybe both, and the fact that many of those who engaged in dogfights got killed themselves?

"In the ensuing dogfighting, CPT PRINCE GERARD defeated 5 Greznovian fighter pilots in close-range air-to-air combat, using his fighter's short-range heat-seeking air-to-air missiles and wingroot gun. This was in spite of his condition, of physical and mental exhaustion from hours of high-tempo operations against an unrelenting invasion of the homeland. His actions, of rallying and fighting alongside fellow allied fighter aviators in a heroic counter-charge against the Greznovian kamikaze charge, prevented further damage and casualties to the already-battered Palmyrian and allied forces in the battle's area of operations and paved the way for a decisive strike that sunk the Greznovian fleet."

Nonetheless Gerard, from his exceptional ace-in-a-day performance during the Mindanao-Sulu Crisis against mutineering Sulu and Mindanao Air National Guard aviators and his slay of criminal kingpin and failed insurrectionist Don Spears, to his current romance with the Holy Roman Empress and continued service with the Air Force with a resolve renewed, had steadily become a living, breathing myth and legend in his own right.

"Through his actions, CPT PRINCE GERARD has proven himself a pinnacle of Palmyrian combat aviation, exhibiting self-giving valor and cohesive decisiveness in the face of grave danger. For stalwart service in the July War, for performance of a conspicuous act of gallantry in the presence of an armed enemy, and for exhibition of conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of life above and beyond the call of duty, he is to be awarded the July War Campaign Medal, and the Royal Commonwealth's second highest and highest military decorations."

This was the immortalization of his legendary myth, the inscription of his mythical legend into metal.

"The Distinguished Conduct Star, and the Medal of Valor."

The proclamation was met with applause from the crowd, many of whom were fellow aviators who fought with him in that fateful dogfight and earlier had been awarded Distinguished Conduct Stars of their own. Walking from one side of the room with his sister and sovereign Jilliane, seven months heavy with child and accompanied by Jason, walking from another, he and Jill met in the middle, with Jilliane, with Jason's assistance (as appropriate a pregnant sovereign accompanied by the Consort Royal), pinning upon his Air Force full dress the ribbon bars and donning upon him the medals of the decorations awarded him: first, the July War Medal (made from the metal of recovered Greznovian naval wreckage), followed by the Distinguished Conduct Star, and finally the Medal of Valor, with respect to the medals' order of precedence.

After a small exchange of pleasantries and a photo, it was now the turn of Greater Prussian Alliance representative Baron Otto von Steinwald to award him with the Greater Prussian Iron Cross.

---

Across the Royal Commonwealth

Revelry for Heroes' Weekend was high on the streets, with off-schedule fiestas taking place even well outside the feast days of many Archinian Catholic patron saints to celebrate a weekend of victory following a short but brutal war of defense - both "reactive" and "counteractive" - against the Greznovian invasion attempt.

The streets filled with color and livery of wartime celebration, with the delicious smoke of grilles filling the air as monobloc chairs and tables spilled out into the streets as restaurants overfilled in the revelry of Heroes' Weekend. The people wined and dined in celebration of a bloody year and era survived, a war won as they now prepared to win the peace that many of their soldiers bled and died for. Rice, chicken oil, grilled skewers, and stews were prepared in prodiguous amounts appropriate a celebration of victory in the face of existential threats internal and external, washed down with equally prodiguous amounts of beverages both alcoholic and non-alcoholic.

Allanean classic beverages such as Shturm Vodka, Flammenwerfer Cinnamon Whiskey, and Broadside Naval Rum flowed by the gallon alongside Palmyrian home-brewed staples such as lambanog, tuba, cerveza de arroz, bignay and duhat wines (and their associated brandies, produced through distillation), basi, and rum, homebrewed classics produced by local companies, some of which predated Archinian colonization and imperial conquest of the Palmyrian archipelago and its people in 1575, that were actively exporting to foreign liquor markets.

But one drink, a cocktail stood a uniquely Palmyrian invention, the embodiment of an archipelagic socio-cultural stew and melting pot: Palmyrian citrus tea. Originally created by the Archinian Imperial Navy to combat scurvy, tea served as a base with citrus juices - predominantly calamansi, dalandan, pomelo, and lemon - added to provide a tangy kick and a sufficient dose of vitamin C to combat scurvy, sugarcane juice added as a sweetener, molasses added to provide body to the drink, and finally rum mostly out of stubborn naval tradition (non-alcoholic versions forewent rum). Whether in bottled prepackaged form sold by breweries or prepared by a bartender, Palmyrian citrus tea took center stage once more as a drink among drinks and an embodiment of Palmyrion as a melting pot of a nation.

If this was the revelry of Saturday - and Sunday - then one could only imagine the revelry of the coming 25th of August, the National Heroes' Day proper.

[Allanea]

Baron Otto von Steinwald rose next, the gilt buttons of his feldgrau uniform catching the light like sparks from a forge. His great moustache, sharp and sweeping like the prows of old war galleys, framed a mouth set in soldierly determination. Adjusting the gold-framed spectacles perched on his nose, he narrowed his eyes at the notepad in his hand ,like a field commander studying a battle map before the charge.

“Today,” the speaker began, his voice carrying like a trumpet call over the assembled ranks, “is the day we honor the heroism of the Palmyrian people – the day we remember how they stood, unbowed, against the savage hordes of Greznov. We remember their triumph not only over the invaders themselves, but over the foreign powers of the ANE who, cloaked in diplomacy, lent Greznov their airfields, their fuel, their weapons, and their whispered support.”

Baron von Steinwald straightened, shoulders squared like a commander before a charge.

“We pay tribute to those who raced to Palmyrion’s defense without hesitation, bound not merely by treaties but by honor itself. Greater voices than mine have spoken of the courage of the Palmyrian and Allanean forces – of the civilians who refused to bend, of a nation that stood as a rock before the storm.

“But I will not speak of nations.” His tone sharpened, cutting through the air like a drawn sabre. “I will speak of one man. One act of heroism that burned brighter than the rest. His Royal Highness, Prince Gerard of the Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth.”

“In many lands, the sons and daughters of the upper class are sheltered when war comes –– spirited away to distant villas, handed safe exemptions, kept well clear of mud, blood, and fire. But not so with the Palmyrians.”

Their prince was not whisked off to foreign shores to wait out the storm. No. Prince Gerard took to the skies. He did not proclaim his courage from a balcony, nor hide behind speeches and ceremony. His deeds spoke louder than any trumpet. His name was carried on the smoke of battle, written in the contrails of falling enemy jets that marked his passing like a hunter’s tally.”

Therefore, Their Imperial and Royal Majesties, Alexander and Cassiopeia Blaken-Kazansky, hereby award His Royal Highness, Prince Gerard of the Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth, with the Greater Prussian Knight’s Cross. As a representative of Greater Prussia and its Crown, I am hereby honored to present His Royal Highness with his medal. Step forward, Prince Gerard, and receive your just reward.”

[Palmyrion]

23 AUGUST 2025
Heroes' Weekend

---

Royal Citadel - 11AM

[INT. A chamber in the Royal Citadel. While the interior design is stately, it is far less gilded than one would expect for a chamber in a royal palace. At the far end of the chamber opposite the door is a podium of mangkono, graced with the Arms of Dominion of the Royal Commonwealth. Guests are seated in seats facing the podium.]

"But I will not speak of nations. I will speak of one man. One act of heroism that burned brighter than the rest. His Royal Highness, Prince Gerard of the Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth."

Baron von Steinwald's words began describing a man who, in spite of - and even because - of his royal upbringing, sent himself into the thick of the war to defend his country, his people, his nation, and his Crown. The man, the myth, the legend, Prince Gerard who was making a name for himself as a living legend and battle-hardened ace among his peers, one among equals in the great equalizer that was war.

"In many lands, the sons and daughters of the upper class are sheltered when war comes –– spirited away to distant villas, handed safe exemptions, kept well clear of mud, blood, and fire. But not so with the Palmyrians. Their prince was not whisked off to foreign shores to wait out the storm. No. Prince Gerard took to the skies. He did not proclaim his courage from a balcony, nor hide behind speeches and ceremony. His deeds spoke louder than any trumpet. His name was carried on the smoke of battle, written in the contrails of falling enemy jets that marked his passing like a hunter’s tally."

Indeed, most royalty were raised in pedigrees of administration and diplomacy, whisked in the Baron's words to foreign shores and proclaiming courage from a balcony and behind speeches and ceremony. Perhaps, that can be said of Palmyrian royalty, their pedigree of steward-leaders tracing back to military aristocracy who ascended to royal power through military victory, popular legitimacy, and clerical support; however at the same time it was a half-truth, for stewardship demanded self-giving service and a strong sense of duty, a reminder of times past when Palmyrian chieftains led soldiers into battle and in rare cases even toiled with their people in the harvest and the construction of public works.

And, that pedigree of self-giving duty persisted in Palmyrian royalty to this day. Jilliane herself fought like any woman in the Navy, and then some. Mavis was herself a workaholic civil engineer, a survivor of grave trauma who thought of family and country before her own. Maxwell...the man had an eccentric approach to publicity that involved off-color screaming in video game streams via his Maxotic online persona, with his royal and Naval persona as Maxwell living as the other half of the duality of the man that was Maxwell. And Gerard here was starting to be a larger-than-life persona for his battlefield exploits as a fighter ace and for popular speculation and paparazzi around his romance with the Holy Roman Empress.

After 4 years of being in the spotlight for reasons unbecoming of his stature - a messy relationship with Annika Solomon that involved much scandal, as well as his much-televised slay of Don Spears that involved Gerard holding up Spears' severed head in front of a camera - Gerard's redemption arc was a long time coming, and now with his battlefield legend set in metal it was off to a magnanimous opening.

"Therefore, Their Imperial and Royal Majesties, Alexander and Cassiopeia Blaken-Kazansky, hereby award His Royal Highness, Prince Gerard of the Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth, with the Greater Prussian Knight’s Cross. As a representative of Greater Prussia and its Crown, I am hereby honored to present His Royal Highness with his medal. Step forward, Prince Gerard, and receive your just reward."

Gerard, dressed in his Air Force full dress, once again stood from his chair and stepped forward to the center, meeting the Baron at the middle who, with the assistance of an aide, pinned upon him the Greater Prussian lron Cross. The medal's pin dug into his full dress, its heft that of military heroism and acts of bravery in combat above and beyond the call of duty, an immortalization of a legend of war and first among his peers in the annals of military history.

The audience gave another round of applause as cameras clicked and flicked with flurry from gathered press capturing the moment of awarding, after which the Prince and the Baron leaned into each other as the Baron said his personal words to the Prince, an exchange of pleasantries and a break of informality in an otherwise formal occasion. Once the pleasantries were over and the camera-flicks and applause died down, the Prince took two steps back, giving the Baron a salute before turning about-face and returning to his chair.

---

Royal Citadel - 7PM

It had been a long day of public engagements with veterans who proved themselves mighty and steadfast, smiling in the face and prospect of a fiery death by Greznovian anti-ship missiles. People who, in the face of external invasion amidst internal strife, fought and bled for the freedom of a nation that constantly painfully reformed and reckoned with itself and its place in the world. These were the men and women, humans and anthros, young and old, that laid down their lives to bring peace to the Palmyrian nation and defend it against foreign invaders come to ravish the motherland.

It was a good way to end the day. A sumptuous dinner - of Palmyrian classics such as tinolang manok, chicken bistek, and chopsuey - awaited the guests who had bothered visiting them. For now, they would start with the gifts, at a room just next to the 140-person Grand Dining Hall.

The Royal Family had been told of the kind of gifts that their guests had awaited them. Aside from the usual trinkets, some were eyeing potential partnerships with the Royal Commonwealth, mutually beneficial ones appropriate a country getting back on its feet after the past years of violent chaos.

[Allanea]

Clad in garments of deep green, crisp as young leaves after rain, the Royal Giftbearers advanced five abreast beneath the high vaults of the hall. Their tread was measured and solemn, and in their hands they bore cushions of shimmering silk, upon which rested treasures bright and manifold. A hush fell upon those assembled as the procession drew near, for these were the offerings of friendship and honor from far lands, brought with ceremony befitting kings.

Foremost were the gifts destined for the rulers of Palmyrion. First among them came a long kampilan of their own ancient pattern, its broad blade shining like moonlit water. Upon one face was graven With Glory and Virtue, and upon the other the proud device of the royal house – so that Her Majesty the Lakambini should bear in her hand both memory of her people and the esteem of her allies.

Next was borne a cunning piece of craft from the forges of distant hunters: a Grizzlar pistol, wrought with care and tempered for the hand of Prince Gerard, swift and sure.

Then came tokens for the royal children. For Princess Amelia was carried a set of infant raiment, embroidered with patient skill – soft garments no heavier than clouds at dawn, stitched with threads of pearl and gold. For Princess Mavis, a blade of the kris-fashion, its wavy line glimmering like heat over desert stone, a gift both beautiful and keen.

Last among those named was the vessel set aside for Prince Maxwell: a chalice of silver and gold, fair to behold, its bowl inlaid with turquoise and onyx so that it shone with mingled hues of sea and night. In its making were set signs of union and hope, for it was crafted in honor of his bond with Princess Rayne Boltone.

Thus the procession moved, gift after gift, until a full hundred had been laid before the high seats of Palmyrion – tokens of goodwill, and of the friendship that endures between free peoples even in the shadow of gathering storms.

Last of all was borne a stout oaken chest, bound in iron and stamped with the sigil of the White Throne: within it lay bottles of rare champagne, drawn from the private reserve of His Imperial and Royal Majesty, King Alexander Blaken-Kazansky. Their glass gleamed like pale gold, and many among the onlookers murmured in wonder, for such draughts were seldom seen beyond the high tables of Allanea.

Yet the largesse of the visitors did not end within the hall. Beyond its doors, along the sunlit streets and shaded courtyards, the soldiers of Allanea moved among the folk of Palmyrion. There they gave freely of simpler gifts from their own stores: flasks of bright spirits and soldier’s liquors; parcels of Allanean fare – fried meats whose savor rose warm upon the air, and bars of rich chocolate wrapped in silver foil. To the younger men and women they offered cans of the energy-drinks favored by the armies of the North; and for the smallest children, who darted laughing between their boots, they brought forth little toys.

In this wise the friendship of the two peoples was shown not only in the high halls of royalty, but also in the common streets, where laughter mingled with the music of the day, and the shadows of war seemed, for a while, driven far away.

[Palmyrion]

23 AUGUST 2025
Heroes' Weekend

---

Royal Citadel - 7PM

Of the first gifts to be received was of the Allaneans, a nation that the Palmyrians have had a strategic partnership with that lasted centuries. It was one that weathered the 20th Century's strife, and Palmyrion's recent instability in the wake of the great political reshuffle that was Federalization. It was one that weathered Palmyrion's progressive degradation of international standing, as the 2010-2025 Emergency - and the still-raging DRA insurrection - racked up human rights violation after human rights violation, with Palmyrion struggling to keep pace with prosecuting violations of international humanitarian law and enforcing discipline within its troops.

But it was a friendship that endured the worst. Allanea was no fair-weather ally; it was a bonafide ally that stuck with the Royal Commonwealth through its worst, and in the wake of the Emergency and the Greznovian invasion gave Palmyrion another fighting chance by granting it reconstruction funds intended not only to reconstruct what was lost in the past 15 years, but also address stark development gaps between its wealthy coastal regions and its impoverished inlands. Many were interested in becoming part of the recovery story of a great power rising back to glory again, and Allanea was an eagerly interested participant.

And what better show of international goodwill, than gifts intended for Palmyrion as a victor of a war that gave it a chance at recovery?

First among them came a long kampilan of their own ancient pattern, its broad blade shining like moonlit water. Upon one face was graven With Glory and Virtue, and upon the other the proud device of the royal house – so that Her Majesty the Lakambini should bear in her hand both memory of her people and the esteem of her allies.

Far be it to be appropriate for a sovereign some 7 months heavy with child to be holding a kampilan like this, unsheathing it like how her arnis teachers had taught her and how royal protocol on the Sovereign Sword - an official piece of royal regalia, built of a similar kampilan make - dictated. Slowly, surely, and with cautious restraint, she unsheathed it from its scabbard, its blade polished to a fine sheen, its handle meticulously carved by Allanea's best. One face had "With Glory and Virtue" graven, and on the other side the device of the royal family, perhaps not too different from the Sovereign Sword that bore the nation's motto on one side and the arms of dominion in another.

"Why, thanks, now the Sovereign Sword has a sister-weapon." the Lakambini quipped with a nod, afterwards going back to gingerly inspecting the sword. "Perhaps we could name it something like the Sword of Victory?"

Seeing the amount of weaponry the Allaneans had gifted the royal family, she decided she'd call the Master Armorers of the royal household and the Crown Collection Trust to help her with the handling of these weapons, all in front of cameras documenting the presentation and giving of gifts.

Next was borne a cunning piece of craft from the forges of distant hunters: a Grizzlar pistol, wrought with care and tempered for the hand of Prince Gerard, swift and sure.

Gerard had his own share of fumbling in the cameras and recorders, to say nothing of his great fumble last September 2024 with the whole Annika Solomon thing. While he was used to his .45 caliber pistols - both his private and service-issued ones, as well as those in the common ownership of the royal household - this one felt different as he hefted it in his hands, compliant with the ADAM rules of gun safety. Fiercer and louder in .50 Action Express, the Armatax Grizzlar was a pistol that could keep up with his maverick swiftness - or, given the generously huge caliber, perhaps one whose unadulterated power he'd struggle to keep up with. At least the muzzle brake could help, somewhat.

The giftbearer who presented the pistol to him gave him a runabout of the pistol's controls and maintenance: safety, magazine release, the works. Gerard gave the pistol a clearing run, pointing the weapon down and facing towards a section of the room from which people were evacuated in a preemptive measure of gun safety. He put the gun at safe first, afterwards he released the magazine and pulled back the slide thrice and holding back the pulled slide on the fourth.

"Show clear." Gerard said, holding the slide back and presenting the (empty) chamber to the giftbearer.

"Confirm clear." the giftbearer confirmed.

Gerard then let go of the slide, after which he released the safety, pointed the gun to the floor, and pulled the trigger to bring the hammer home before presenting both the cleared gun (muzzle down) and the empty magazine to the giftbearer.

Perhaps, not too different from the service .45 he's been lugging around, or the personal .45 he owns as a personal, privately-owned sidearm. Just in a larger, more generously powerful caliber that he'd look forward to getting used to.

Then came tokens for the royal children. For Princess Amelia was carried a set of infant raiment, embroidered with patient skill – soft garments no heavier than clouds at dawn, stitched with threads of pearl and gold.

By now, Amelia was a full 21 months old, well beyond infancy and far into early toddlerhood. The raiment fitted someone of smaller stature: perhaps, an infant, one forming in Her Majesty's womb 7 months in.

"Very small, mama." Amelia spoke, noting how the infant raiment missed her age by not a few months.

"Well, with a second one on the way, do you want to give it to your younger...sibling, anak?" Jill spoke, taking a pause to recollect words that would not betray the gender or planned name of the infant forming in her womb.

"Yes, mama." Amelia answered, her eyes locked to her mother as Jill called for an aide to help her with tucking the infant raiment set.

Perhaps, if this wasn't for Amelia, then it was for the baby forming in her womb. In either case, it was still an acceptable use of a gift, and one gifted for goodwill and practical use.

For Princess Mavis, a blade of the kris-fashion, its wavy line glimmering like heat over desert stone, a gift both beautiful and keen.

"I'm not exactly a blade collector, but many thanks!" Mavis said, chuckling as she received the blade handle-first, cameras flicking at the sight of what seemed to be the first return of happiness to a woman previously tormented. The giftbearer shared the chuckle, with a remark about how it's a goodwill gift nonetheless, a symbol of an allied nation appreciating the strength of a woman who weathered a grave injustice done upon her.

The giftbearer even remarked how she could use the kris blade: letter-opening (appropriate for her corporate day job in an architectural firm), ribbon-cutting even, or defending herself against people like Don Spears as a woman who, after the traumatic events of last year, had since steered entirely clear of house parties or night-out revelries with her workmates.

"A blade has many uses, for sure. I guess..." Mavis paused, taking her time to awe at the craftsmanship of the blade.

"...it's on me to figure out how to use it."

Last among those named was the vessel set aside for Prince Maxwell: a chalice of silver and gold, fair to behold, its bowl inlaid with turquoise and onyx so that it shone with mingled hues of sea and night. In its making were set signs of union and hope, for it was crafted in honor of his bond with Princess Rayne Boltone.

Prince Maxwell was no stranger to the finer things in life: LED ornamental lights, RGB lighting on his desktop, a custom Shock Division gaming chair, and DDR5 RAM and and RTX5090 - all from his military pay and a hefty combat bonus from his recent deployment in the July War. That, and a date with Princess Rayne, taking her across Alexandria: the Baywalk at Matandang Daungan (Old Harbor) District, dragon dances in Binondo (the oldest Chinatown in the Levanora Vastness and possibly the world), a casual stroll along Commonwealth Park, a reverent moment at the Monument of Sovereignty where the first three post-colonial sovereigns of Palmyrion were buried, and last but not the least tasting the best that the city had to offer.

But a chalice like this? Not even the Royal Citadel, long described by many as almost spartan for a royal residence, closer to a university or a fortress than a royal palace due to the sparseness of gilding, had this much opulence. Of silver and gold, the bowl inlaid with turquoise and onyx, signs and union and hope perhaps to honor his bond with Princess Rayne.

However, Rayne and Maxwell weren't married yet, just dating in a committed relationship. Maybe they were counting the chicks before the eggs were hatching? In either case, he'd decided it won't hurt to extend his thanks for the gift.

"Many thanks for the fine chalice. Absolutely based. I can drink from this, yes?"

He just hoped that it was more than mere ornament, but something he could actually drink from, something that he or the palace maids and butlers could reasonably hand-wash with dishwashing soap and warm water. Something that would see everything from plain old water to red wine to Gamer Supps and take it all like a champ.

[Polish Prussian Commonwealth]

---

Royal Citadel | Evening, 23 August 2825 A.L / 2025 A.D
The Blauveldter-Ryszanan Delegation

---

The Blauveldter-Ryszanans came on the heels of Allanea's royal giftbearers - far fewer in number, but no less beautiful.

The four Sisters of Saint-Barbara wore padded gambesons and the bright red tabards of their order - cloaks of forest-green and kettle-helms of dulled steel. Upon their backs were kite-shields, painted with the symbols of their saint - Gules, a cannon argent, and brooches of worked iron upon their throats, bearing the Cross of Camargue; at the sides of the two sisters leading the delegation, in leather sheathes bound by leather belts, were unadorned arming-swords, bright and sharp and given point, while the two novices bringing up the rear carried war-knives. All four bore Remington Rolling-Block rifles upon their backs, and boxes in their hands that clinked lightly as they set them down. Following the boxes, two sisters laid down their rifles, completing their gifts.

They did not bow once throughout the whole exchange. Their eyes remained cold, impassive, almost imperious, as they gave their gifts.

Upon later inspection, the boxes were filled with bottles of Goldwasser - vodka from Gdansk, with herbs and suspended gold filings. In the Commonwealth, it was a drink associated with merchants, moneylenders, usurers. Each bottle, in short, represented the finest, costliest, and politest insult the szlachta could offer.

Some time later, those same sisters would be smiling gaily, as they gave a second round of gifts - bringing the Holy Roman Empress and her sister their other two rifles, jars of honey and wine, and silver rosary-beads. Foreign Minister Oliwia Jankiewiczówna would follow-on with a tray of pastries ("Family recipes!" she'd say, with a wink and smile), and Ambassador Myszkowski-Skarbek with two bottles of good apple nalewka ("With complements from the Baroness Skarbek", he would add, with the barest hint of a smile) and an earthware pot of bear-grease ("Good for colds and sores", he would say, as he handed it over).

---

Royal Citadel | Evening, 23 August 2825 A.L / 2025 A.D
The Goettish Delegation & 'Terwa'

---

After the Ryszanans came the Goettish - Hakkapeliter and Huskarle in fine uniforms of gold and blue, with white or red sashes and epulattes and short-swords and gladii. Lady Terwa, the old nursemaid and governess of the Empress, came up behind, still in the same heavy robes and cold metal mask, leaning and limping on her ĝidru-like ivory cane.

The guards bore glass cases with many fine and costly things - silken clothes woven by the Governess, bottles of fine mead and wine, clockwork toys and music-boxes, and a pair of fine Goettish-made rifles. But the highest gift of all laid in the hands of the Lady Terwa - a gladius.

Scenes of the Palmyrian victory were etched upon the blade and inlaid with gold - on one side, the naval battles, with drowning Greznovians beneath Palmryion's warfleets; on the other, a host of Greznovian captives, forced to kneel before a larger-than-life image of the Lakanbini. It seemed like something taken from a victory stele or a monument - some bas-relief, etched to celebrate the victory of a forgotten Lugal.

Terwa presented the sword herself, to the Lakanbini - shuffling close enough for Her Majesty to smell frankincense, and to see the cold, ancient pair of amber-colored eyes staring out of the silver mask. "Wield this one well, child-" she breathed, in perfect Tagalog, offering the blade hilt-first - once she took it, she turned away to leave.

[Reino do Brazil]

Ministry of Justice

The Royal Council for the State List of Honors

To Her Majesty the Queen Lakambini of The Royal Commonwealth of Palmyrion
From. Bernardo de Holstein, Marquis of Juncal , Chief of Arms and Heraldry of The United Kingdom of Reino do Brazil

Your Majesty,

It is with with admiration and gratitude that I come to You Madam being you an example of sacrifice and patriotism by reigning troughout such an admirable period of the History of Palmyrion.

Majesty

By His Majesty Command the United Kingdom of Reino do Brazil is presenting the Most Noble Grand Collar of Liberty to The Royal Commonwealth of Palmyrion in the Person of Her Majesty the Queen Lakambini.

It is an honor for Reino do Brazil
May God keep You in good health.

Julio Santos, Minister of Justice
Holdstein, for His Majesty the King

ALEXANDER DEI GRATIA REGNUM BRAZILIS REX

[Palmyrion]

23 AUGUST 2025
Heroes' Weekend

---

Royal Citadel - 7PM

Next came the gifts of the Blauveldter-Ryszanan Commonwealth, chief among them the Sisters of St. Barbara. Dressed in padded gambesons and the tabards of the order, they bore kite-shields on their backs, alongside worked iron brooches bearing the Cross of Camargue.

The four sisters bore Remington Rolling-Block rifles upon their backs, alongside boxes that clinked lightly as the Sisters set them down with two of the Remington Rolling-Block rifles.

Just as the Lakambini reached out her hand - gingerly so, as the movements of a pregnant woman were - for a handshake, three of the Sisters turned away, spurning a basic gesture of politeness and reception in what was supposed to be a formal (albeit lax) ceremony.

At least one of the Sisters took her hand and shook it once - coldly and tightly, as if with uptight frigid apathy, but still a saving grace for the Sisters.

It was the most elegant insult the Lakambini had ever seen, and she'd been a veteran of Navy happy hour rap battles - where every inch of her mind, body, and soul was fair game to be dissed on - back in the day.

---

The Goettish delegation followed shortly after: Lady Terwa, in her heavy robes and cold metal mask, leaning and limping on her cane, escorted by Hakkapeliter and Huskarle in formal uniforms of gold and blue, adorned by sashes, epaulettes, shortswords, and gladii. In glass cases they bore silken clothes, bottles of fine mead and wine, clockwork toys and music boxes, two Goettish-made rifles, and a gladius.

"Gamitin mo ito ng maayos, hija." ("Wield this one well, child.) - Terwa, smelling of frankincense and gazing deep into the Lakambini's eyes with cold, ancient, amber-colored eyes from beyond her silver mask, spoke in perfect Palmyrian, as she offered the gladius hilt first, afterwards turning away to leave when the Lakambini grasped the hilt.

The Lakambini, assisted by royal armorers, butlers, and maids, received the gifts as the Goettish present them, gingerly hefting them and setting them down atop the tables near the Lakambini. She grasped the gladius given to her by Terwa, unsheathing it with regal steadiness like she would the Sovereign Sword: slow and steady, with deference and respect to the sword.

The blade was gold-inlaid with scenes of victory: drowning Greznovians crushed by Palmyrian destroyers, and captive Greznovians kneeling (whipped by a retinue of soldiers led by her husband Jason) before the Lakambini. It invoked ancient Mesopotamian bas reliefs celebrating the triumph of a Lugal: splendorous, larger-than-life, rising in the bask of glory washed in the blood of thousands.

They were no warmer than the Blauveldter-Ryszanans, but the Lakambini could feel that they at least paid more deference than the BRC delegation did.

---

The Brazilian delegation - represented by Justice Minister Julio Santos - followed, with the Minister bringing his own retinue of guards clad in their own dress. The Minister carried on his hands an enamel box

"Your Majesty," the MInister began. "It is with with admiration and gratitude that I come to You Madam being you an example of sacrifice and patriotism by reigning throughout such an admirable period of the History of Palmyrion."

The Minister's words were equal parts flatter and truth; his acknowledgement of Jilliane's leadership in a time of great crisis was both a genuine admiration (both from a personal standpoint, as well as the regards he sent on behalf of the Brazilian monarch), and a measured diplomatic move.

"By His Majesty's Command the United Kingdom of Reino do Brazil is presenting the Most Noble Grand Collar of Liberty to The Royal Commonwealth of Palmyrion in the Person of Her Majesty the Lakambini."

The Lakambini gestured out her hand, an invitation to a handshake: perhaps, this one would end well and warm, unlike the Blauveldter-Ryszanans and the Goettish, at least the Lakambini thought. The MInister took her hand warmly, with a measured enthusiasm appropriate a man trying to gingerly handle a pregnant sovereign's tenderness; after the handshake, he then opened the enamel box, revealing a bejeweled medal with an intricately patterned and adorned collar, befitting the statures of courageous soldiers, wise innovators, imaginative writers, and upstanding monarchs. He and the Lakambini then faced the camera as a photographer took position in front of them, the medal clearly displayed, before the Minister and the Lakambini shook hands once again and exchanged head-nods in a departing gesture, as the Brazilian Minister and his entourage of guards returned to their seats and posts.