Nordrik's State Visits (IC/TWI Only/INVITE)

by **Nordrik** » Tue Jul 18, 2017 12:42 am

Nordrik's State Visits

Since the dawn of Man diplomacy and Nordrik have been one word. From the warring Kingdoms of the past to Norwegian colonization to the Modern period, talks between different Chiefs, Lords and Heads of State have always been close to Nordrikker history. Today, Nordrik seeks to develop tighter relations with its neighbours as the political instability of a polarized region is starting to threaten peace once again, urging for friendship to be formed fast.

Morning in Riksdam, Capital of Nordrik and theatre for most State Visits

Rules

This thread (with exception to this particular post), is IC. Pleae post in IC. For OOC comments, telegram Nordrik.
This is diplomacy. Tension and protests are allowed, but keep the rifles, fists and other violent ideas for another RP
Please only post here if you are part of The Western Isles and if you have been convened for a State Visit
For each state visit you will find an official planning below the post opening the visit (noticeable by the joint coat of arms)

Participants

Nation Name	Period
Mirigli	Soon

The Initiative for this thread as well as part of the formatting has been inspired from Noronica's State Visits to Noronica

by **Nordrik** » Tue Jul 18, 2017 4:09 am

Mirigliai State Visit in Nordrik

Starring
Pahuac Quenti Sovereign of Mirigli
Amoxtili Gucumatz, Minister of Treasury of Mirigli
Ixchel Natupan, Mirigliai Ambassador in Nordrik

by **Nordrik** » Tue Jul 18, 2017 5:16 am

Nordinnsjø Lake

A fleet of motorboats composed of eight zodiacs and one black Van Dutch was navigating on the Nordinnsjø lake between Riksdam and the Airport, where the Mirigliai delegation including Pahuac Quenti was scheduled to arrive. On the boat's red leather coaches sat two men and one woman. All were dressed in a way to avoid white, as was directed by the delegation organisation. One of them was Mark Olsen. Chancellor of Nordrik, the equivalent of a Head of Government, who had exchanged his white shirt for a pink one with a black tie and, of course, a black. Like the others, he was wearing a small badge representing a coat of arms composed of the emblem of the Nordrikker government and a shield representing the flag of Mirigli. Next to him sat his Minister for Foreign Affairs, Carl Holsberg, who had gone for a grey suit and black shirt, and the badge as well. The third was Sandra Murielsen, the Communications Councillor of the Office of the Prime Minister, inside a purple dress.

To start a conversation, Carl Holsberg cleared his voice and announced
"Did you know the Crown bought a new set of plates in order to avoid serving food in white plates?"
"They have white on their damn flag though" noted Murilesen in a way that erased Olsen's regrets about not having her on the boat for the return journey. He did not want a diplomatic crisis because of her.
"I guess the Crown's master of ceremonies is mad because he can't hold a white tie dinner" commented Olsen
"He threatened to resign" chuckled Holsberg as he was obviously hyperbolic.
"Any other mistake not to make?" asked Olsen
"Do not criticise the regime" advised Murielsen. "I asked the Crown's herald to refer to Quenti as Sovereign, not Dictator, but nevertheless it is no good idea to start speaking bad of her.
"Understandable" nodded Holsberg, "though technically they are not a dictatorship. They're an elective monarchy"
"I guess the less I open my mouth about it the better?" asked Olsen
"Your fast comprehension made you Chancellor" said Holsberg with a smile.
"Also, do not mention the Kiitik" warned Murielsen
"What's that?" asked Olsen
"Nothing you should know. Just do not say it"
"No risk. I can't even pronounce that name" reassured Olsen.

The boat was now approaching the wharf and before long the three were on the ground. Murielsen started leaving, but turned around towards Olsen and said
"Do not forget to warn her we have free press. She might not be used to it"
Olen nodded in an irritate way. Truly, Murilesen was a good person but could commit mistakes.
On the ground was Ixchel Natupan, and another man towards which Holsberg walked.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Translator" he replied. "Just in case".
He then walked towards an officer in great attire who was the Head of Border Control services. Olsen had insisted he should be here, though he will remain at the airport and not accompany them on the luxurious motorboat.

"Are they here anytime soon?" asked Olsen to a clerk, whilst staring at a wall of journalists cantoned behind security barriers at least 100m away.
"They should land in a quarter to half an hour sir" answered the clerk.

by **Mirigli** » Tue Jul 18, 2017 6:27 pm

Mirigli Prime

Inside the Miriglese private jet, staff scuttled in the background, frantically making last minute preparations as the plane descended into Nordrik. Yet to Amoxtili Gucumatz, none of them were important. While she personally found the white seats inside of the jet sacrilegious, she understood that the Sovereign herself was sacred and thus was deserving of such respect. Amoxtili couldn't help but gingerly touching her Sapstanyan talisman (anikae) every time she came into contact with the seats, something her Sovereign noticed and wryly rose her eyebrow at, but thankfully didn't comment on.

She was wearing an Imperatriz design. Filomena and Amoxtili didn't get along too well. Filomena reminded her too much of the former Portagues rulers. Amoxtili was too proud to deign to wear the colonizers' clothing and had insisted Filomena design her something with Oivi influence in it. Privately, she found it still too Portagues, but it was better than a suit.

Regretfully, Amoxtili woke Quenti up. "We're arriving," she informed her waking Sovereign.

"So I see," Pahuac commented acerbically. Amoxtili didn't know how she managed to sleep without getting a single wrinkle or speck of dust on her power suit. Perhaps it had something to do with her blessing from Huatzlicatl. "Run me through a refresher."

The pilot called back. "Prepare for touch down!" Amoxtili yelled back in recognition.

"Of course. The ruler is Queen Astrid V. They highly value the right to select one's own government, and such is essentially an elected monarchy. They value tolerance and diplomacy. They value centrism; all in all, nothing too extreme. Doesn't seem like something we can't handle."

The Sovereign turned to her sharply. "Politics is no place for the complacent, Amoxtili. Do not forget that."

Amoxtili shivered, knowing what the Sovereign had had to do to get to her position. She was a terrifying woman; yet there was no one she respected more. "Yes, ma'am." The plane touched down and Sovereign Pahuac Quenti regally strode down the stairs.

by **Nordrik** » Wed Jul 19, 2017 3:04 am

Riksdam Airport

Centre: Carl Holsberg with a light blue shirt and grey vest. Left: arm of a border control officer.

At the feet of the stairs that went from the aircraft's door to the tarmac of Airport stood on, each side of a red carpet, five border control officers, making ten in total. This was ceremonial of course, the Office for Border Control had received the appropriate papers ordering them not to conduct any checks whatsoever, and they were mostly standing here to ceremonially welcome the Mirigliai delegation as they set foot on Nordrikker soil. At the centre end of the carpet stood a ridiculously high ranked officer, with so many medals and decorations that one could barely see his navy blue suit.
As the members of the Mirigliai delegation arrived one by one at the end of the carpet he performed a military salute and presented himself as the head of the Office for Border Control. By his way of standing one could see he spent more time wearing a suit and working in an office than wearing his military costume. As Gucumatz passed he went into a bit more detail and announced that, per the links of friendship that would be formed, his department would have many occasions to work with Mirigli and Mirigliai merchants and tourists alike. He then pointed to Chancellor Mark Olsen who wore a large smile and walked towards the Mirigliai delegation. Unsure on how to welcome Pahuac Quenti, he remembered her invitation by the Queen made her outrank him on the order of precedence, immediately behind the Queen herself, so he contented himself of a slight bow. He was more confident with the other members of the delegation with which he shook hands. For some reason the truly imperial style of Quenti intimidated him. People were born with this style. Astrid V had it, his Foreign Affairs Minister, rumoured to be King one day, had it, and his own mother had it, but for some reason Olsen got his father's traits instead and did not enjoy this privilege. Truly, Quenti was in the first group and had that incredible ability to always bear a regal attitude even in her way of walking. Olsen secretly envied them all, and he could not stop feeling somewhat inferior to all these people in his entourage who had that genetic quirk. On the paper he outranked many of them but when meeting his hand was shrivelling and his voice was low.
Trying to forget this, Olsen stepped aside as Holsberg, who had the regal gene, approached the delegation and warmly greeted them. He was little, white haired, and protocol seemed to mean nothing to him, as he had laughed a lot about the prospect of dying his hair to avoid white. He didn't do it. In this situation he truly took initiative over Olsen and directed them to the boat that was peacefully lifting and falling on the small wavelets of the lake. The most important people, namely Olsen, Holsberg, Quenti, Natupan and Gucumatz were on the Van Dutch whilst the service and secuirty were on the helicopter or the zodiacs.

The escort was structured in a way to break waves before they arrived on the Van Dutch, meaning the chief boat was lightly gliding on quasi flat waters whilst waves hit the zodiacs. Olsen cleared his voice and started to show the invitees the different shore of the lake, pointing to Ambassadordam on the other side of the water body, talking about the mountains on the southern bank and Riksdam, which was starting to be visible. He couldn't hold long eye contact with Quenti whilst feeling a point of jealousy towards Holsberg who had no issue in fixing the Sovereign with his eyes. Olsen suddenly remembered about the minibar as they were hitting the mid journey milestone, and offered everyone a wide array of alcoholic and non alcoholic beverages.

by **Mirigli** » Wed Jul 19, 2017 10:09 am

Quenti was impressed by the obvious effort the Nordrikkers had made for the state visit. However, she was more impressed with the little man. Holsberg. He clearly was flouting the no-white standard, which gave him some of Quenti's grudging respect. She found it respectful but a little amusing how white was avoided. In Huashe, white was not a bad color, persay, it was a holy color, and only those who were blessed were allowed to wear it, thus why it was on the flag. Most of the population had evolved to avoid the color as a matter of principle. Amoxtili's constant use of her anikae in response to Quenti's perceived irreverence continually entertained Quenti, making Amoxtili even more flustered and more likely to use her anikae.

While she noticed Gucumatz and Natupan were focusing entirely on the Olsen's tour, she found she was more interested in observing the people. Olsen clearly was nervous, unable to maintain eye contact with Quenti for longer than a few seconds. Unsurprisingly, Holsberg did not have such a problem. Quenti would be sure to deal with him if she had need of anything, because he was clearly more of an authority. While the history and beauty of the lake was obviously rich and enthralling, Quenti found she was still wiping the remains of sleepiness from her eyes.

"Você tem café," she said, asking for coffee through the translator in response to the opening of the minibar.

by **Nordrik** » Wed Jul 19, 2017 3:09 pm

Holsberg machinally prepared the coffee, coming from one of the Queen’s favourite Kaffehaus, namely a coffee shop and café which also served as a social catalyst, and whilst the bead like grains slowly turned into liquid he had a kettle prepared for tea. Meanwhile Olsen had grabbed a bottle of sparkling water and was already filling a crystal glass.
Holsberg had worked long with Olsen. But had never had the occasion to see him in a state visit, and now he did he could confirm his theory: Olsen was a great orator, parliament and ministers in Cabinet could all attest authority and confidence often flowed through him. But only when he was talking to people hierarchically inferior, and indeed he had no problem touring Gucumatz, a Minister, and Natupan, an Ambassador, around the lake because he outranked them and, as long as they weren’t too regal, he could easily handle the situation. The Chancellor truly was a slave to the order of precedence. Now he was, for the first time since long, confronted to a highly esteemed foreign leader who outranked him, Holsberg could observe, unlike when there were private meetings between Chancellor and Queen, Olsen as he would avoid too much interaction with Quenti, and he couldn’t repress a smile as the situation amused him. He was ranked lower than Olsen and Quenti, but found no problem in serving her the coffee strait from hand to hand with a smile and eye contact. Olsen can only do this with people he outranks.
Holsberg knew the lake pretty much and, after having seen a couple of swans, resumed to observing what was happening on board. He was surprised to see Quenti’s look was directed away from whatever Olsen was showing, more interested in either the people around her or the distance, as if she were thinking or somewhat unsynchronized.
“She’s pretty right, she’ll see it all on the helicopter on the journey back to the airport” thought Holsberg, and he mentally awarded her a point for good usage of her time. Olsen’s visit, regardless of how interesting, was a time filler. In order to do something Holsberg asked Quenti in the best Portuguese he could( he had been to secondary school in the South, where Portuguese was often spoken), which was a terrible one, if the flight had gone all right. He hoped she would understand him, as the translator was busy translating Olsen’s facts.

As the boat was now arriving close to Riksdam Olsen thought it would be necessary to cease his visit and instead brief his guests on the rest of the proceedings. He quickly explained the history behind the twenty-one gun salute Pahuac Quenti would receive, not without a point of resentment as he had never been given one before. He always had a 19 gun salute instead, being Chancellor.
As he spotted the large number of journalists on the banks he tried his best to look at Quento and, intead, focussed on a fried fish vendor centimetres away from that look that said all about her power and how she had reached it, before saying “If I may warn you, the press is here free. You may say whatever you like, but whatever is said or seen can be used, and we will be powerless to stop it”.

by **Mirigli** » Wed Jul 19, 2017 4:56 pm

Quenti smiled at Holsberg's Portuguese. She figured he was asking about the flight. The grammar was all correct, but the accent was off in comparison to what she was used too. The word for flight, vôo, sounded in his heavy accent like avó, making the question, How is your grandmother? However, she appreciated his attempt and understood the intent. She responded that the flight was fairly short, and that she had slept the majority of the way. Her coffee was unusual, a classier brew than she was used to. She made a mental note to ask for some later on; she on principle never imported for her personal use, but was swayed by the elegant taste and appearance. Perhaps she could write it off as a diplomatic expense.

Amoxtili gratefully took a cup of tea as she continued learning about the history and sites of the lake. She knew Natupan had heard the tour before, but from the brief contact she had with him, he seemed more than pleased with his placement in Nordrik and was picking up some of the Nordish language, something bound to be useful. He was listening to Olsen directly in an attempt to pick up on some more of the language. As a youth in the revolution, she had never had the time, money, or status to travel, and afterwards she was wrapped up in reforming the government. She had only been out of the country twice -- once, when Quenti paid for her to go to Dragao do Mar for an education, and twice, when she visited Verona Beach for a week on her first vacation. Amoxtili knew her Sovereign found all of this interesting but trivial, but Amoxtili couldn't help absorbing the facts tossed her way and drinking in the landscape with her eyes.

Olsen paused as they reached Riksdam and started briefing them, at which point Quenti gave him her full attention. Amoxtili inwardly cringed at Olsen's statement on the freedom of press. Personally, after her brief stay in Dragao do Mar, she valued democracy, but she understood how the corruptness and ineffectiveness of it under the last regime in Mirigli led to widespread poverty, oppression, violence, starvation and disease. Now, Amoxtili strongly believed that a strong leader was more vital to the health of the nation than a system that had only brought them harm.

To her relief, Pahuac responded smoothly. "Of course, Chancellor. I understand that we are grateful visitors in your great nation, and thus are subject to your practices during our stay." Amoxtili realized her fear had been a little displaced. She had known Pahuac since Amoxtili was thirteen years old, fifteen years ago. Quenti had changed from the fire-spitting orator she had been in her twenties, to a stone-faced woman who carefully chose her words. The boat arrived at the dock, and Amoxtili let out a deep breath.

by **Nordrik** » Thu Jul 20, 2017 12:51 am

The motorboat was now on the bank, but the protocol ordered that they could only set foot on Riksdam once officially invited to do so. The invitation ceremony started with a 21 gun salute. The significance of this salute, usually shot from boats to show they were unarmed, had changed throughout the centuries and was today considered an uttermost mark of respect. Only the Monarch and extremely high ranked medal recipients were allowed the salute. The Chancellor would usually get 19, Ministers 17, and realm leaders 15. Foreign Heads of States got the 21 gun salute as well, and Pahuac Quenti being an esteemed guest she was naturally welcomed with this highest honour. Informed of Gucumatz's PTSD whilst being ignorant of what it implied, the City had chosen to perch the cannons on a medieval castle tower further away from then lake, so the shots could be heard but would be fainter.
As the smoke of the shots started to dissipate a lavishly dressed blonde woman now approached the delegation. She wore a red coat that was probably a pain to carry, as just from outside the coat looked heavy, and a black hat. She stood in front of the Van Dutch and unsealed and unscrolled a roll of papyrus on which was written an over formal speech starting with
"In the name and on the behalf of her Majesty the Queen- embodiment of the people..." and ending some ten paragraphs later with the confirmation that the delegation was formally invited in Riksdam. The story goes that the Monarch once lived in Nordhaven, but in the XVIIth century there was a dispute and the Monarch moved to a royal palace located in current Riksdam. As the land of Riksdam was technically Royal private Property, the Monarch would administer it and decide who can step on the ground. Today the city was too large and the Monarch appoints a Mayor chosen by the citizens, and does not control every entry. But for such a symbolic entry in the city the Mayor still officially invited them on the behalf of the Queen.
Once this had been done the delegation was allowed to step out of the motorboat. Olsen walked out first whilst the march was closed by Holsberg. An extravagant honour march was played by a military band as the people on the Van Dutch climbed on a richly decorated carriage powered, for once, by a set of maroon horses. White horses were usually used, but the Master of Ceremonies had clearly indicated white should be rare.
The carriage was richly escorted by a platoon of cavalry with gold plated helmets and a ceremonial costume, flanked by a strong and heavy looking sword.

Olsen was explaining to everyone they were heading for the Royal Palace. Meanwhile, Holsberg turned towards Gucumatz and tried to think of a way of reassuring her. Being a senior diplomat Holsberg, unlike Olsen, could see much on people's faces and body language, and had noticed Gucumatz' cringing on the boat, her deep breathes, as well as her obsession in touching that strange talisman. Though everything seemed slightly better since they disembarked, it looked like something was disturbing her, or at least had been disturbing her, and though it could very well be the cannon shot or consequence of PTSD Holsberg wanted to make sure his guest would not feel uncomfortable and, discretely addressing her, asked:
"Is everything all right? Is there anything I can do for you?".

by **Mirigli** » Thu Jul 20, 2017 12:37 pm

Fragmented stone and blood splattering
Shouting
Hoarse screaming
Hands on her body
Everywhere
Pain
Fiery pain
Shoulder thighs head
An explosion-

Unobtrusively, Quenti stood in front of Amoxtili for a second while Amoxtili stumbled towards the carriage. Her hand snuck behind her and briefly grasped Amoxtili's. It was a comfort and a warning; the salute was a measure of huge respect, and Gucumatz was not to be the one to ruin that. At the same time, she understood Quenti sympathized. While it reminded her of where she was, she couldn't help but keep seeing flashbacks of her capture flitting through her mind. Her breathing was still heavy in the carriage, with the remnant of the cannonfire echoing through her head. It had been over ten years ago, but sometimes a loud noise triggered it.

The loud noise was a reminder of the bomb. The claustrophobia came back inside the carriage, and with it her heavy breathing. Huatzlicatl, why now? Her last attack had been almost two years ago. She faintly heard the little man's question and fought herself to meet his gaze. It calmed her, reminding her of her gentle father. While her heart still thudded in her chest, she could breathe again. She hoped Ashae, the minister of state, hadn't disclosed her PTSD. That would be embarassing, but perhaps Holsberg was just attentive. He seemed the type.

"Tha-thank you," she responded. Her breath evened out further with speaking. The cannonfire was over now. The soothing clopping of the horse's hooves (maroon horses! How interesting -- how did they manage that?) and the elegance of the carriage were nothing like prisão do porão in Poleiro. Her hand subconsciously traced her amulet and she snuck a glance at her Sovereign. Pahuac was here, and she wouldn't let anything happen to Amoxtili. "I think I am feeling better now. Do you have some water?"

by **Nordrik** » Thu Jul 20, 2017 2:41 pm

Amoxtili deserved the title of luckiest woman in town today. Indeed, finding water on a ceremonial carriage was absolutely impossible in most of the world but Nordrik. Many years ago in 1688, a King died of dehydration in a carriage and since then it was considered sacrilegious not to travel with a bottle of water. Today the tradition remained and even when driving or in the metro water would be prepared. Besides water was always useful to dissolve medicaments or, like in this situation, relieve a stress. “Now, where on earth did they hide the damned water bottle?”, thought Holsberg as he was probing the ceiling and the cushions in the hope of finding that secret box. Finally, he felt a lock on the carriage’s door and, after having gently unlocked it, curved his hand around that mythical hermetic cap he had known of the time he was Chancellor. That one was slightly more evolved as time passed, but still was decorated by the seal of Her Majesty’s health service. The risk of regicide by poisoning was too great to afford not checking these bottles. Normally he could find the glasses too, and successfully extracted a couple of Kevlar glasses. Not as classy as glass or crystal, but conveniently shockproof, which was needed for these carriage journeys. The uncapping of the bottle produced a gentle whistle as air was rushing inside and tickling the surface of the water. The noise became louder and more pronounced, as if one was now playing the flute, as the water ran down of the bottle into the glass. Holsberg kindly gave Gucumatz the glass and, turning around to the others, asked if anyone else was interested. Now the bottle was opened it would have to either be drank or sent back through the pipes. Once he saw Gucumatz and Quenti exchanging a look Holsberg was much reassured for Amoxtili, who he really pitied. "So young..." he thought. Though being a little old man everybody here was young for him. But he knew she was in good hands with Pahuac, and made a mental note to himself not to be surprised if he ever learns Amoxtili is Pahuac's daughter. Holsberg thought the Sovereign was acting with her like a mother, protective and yet somewhat severe, whilst she received a somewhat motherly respect. Curious relationship, really. But then, he was not used to seeing this especially in the cruel world of politics.

The carriage was cruising through the City and its landmarks, heading towards the Royal palace and its Court. On the side of the road stood all types of people from all walks of life, acclaiming as the carriage passed, some for the heads of state, others for the horses, others yet for the wonderful show that was offered.
When the carriage finally arrived at the Palace it lost it momentum and, whilst the cavalrymen were now gone a once again richly decorated officer opened the carriage door, lifting the obstacle that blocked them from seeing Astrid V herself, standing on the stairs that led to the entrance, and now advancing on the red carpet until she reached the exit of the carriage, ready to greet in the best of decorum the people who were, since the 21 gunshots, her own guests.

by **Mirigli** » Fri Jul 21, 2017 8:07 am

Quenti strode and waited for the Queen to finish her journey down the stairs. She was clearly a regal woman.

Gucumatz and Natupan stood back, watching in awe.

by **Nordrik** » Fri Jul 21, 2017 10:24 am

Royal Palace Court, Riksdam
Minutes before Carriage arrival

Angel Tronda was entering her twelfth year as reporter for "The Independent", Nordrik's most read newspaper and one of the more serious papers, reporting form the news, not the scandal. As she directed her cameraman in order for him to adjust to the right angle, he strated to think about her angle of attack, or rather what she would be writing in her column. She had received a briefing about the regime and the Kiitik, but that was not what she wanted to know. She wanted to perceive the behaviour of the people, and what kind of relationship then two nations would have, something Olsen was evasive about and something investors would be ready to pay good money for. She also wanted to look at the clothes he Miigliai were wearing, as their vestimentary refinement was not unknown. But since ther meeting with the Queen, where all interesting stuff would be said, was private, she would only get information by asking the protagonists, hoping some would answer. Hopefully she was a Southerner and spoke fluent Portuguese, so she might be able to lure the Mirigliai delegation into answering some questions. She made sure to get the best places, and had been here since 10 last night, sleeping on the uncomfortable pavement so she wouldn't miss anything.

The Carriage Arrives

Behind the glass door of the palace the Queen saw he carriage as it was descending the Avenue and made sure she wouldn't look to bad. Her employee would tell her she was perfect, but frankly who would be impolite enough to tell the Queen of Nordrik she is horrendous? This meant she had to check more or less everything herself. She was wearing a purplish gown with a white necklace, the only white garnment she had. One could not brief her out completely, besides such a high ranked person wearing white probably would not look offensive to the guests. On her dress was pinned, like with all other Nordrikkers present, the seal of the state visit with the two shields.
She then threw a glance at the official protocol. Welcome...honour guard-forgot about those, thanks God I have that planning, and then the private meeting. She couldn't wait to talk with these people far from cameras, unknown ears and protocol. Now the carriage was in the Court she nodded to the herald who announced her paragraph of titles, then went down the stairs towards the delegation. Quenti was standing before the two others, Gucumatz and...Natupan, that was right. She bore her greatest smile and, arriving at a hand distance from Quenti, held out her hand for a handshake, and did the same with Gucumatz and Natupan. She gave Olsen and Holsberg a nod, as they had met during the day, who, in response, slightly bowed.

Astrid V then spoke to Quenti in her best Portuguese, which was rather correct, though not absolutely faultless either, and announced they would be reviewing the guard of honour, which was really walking on that red carpet surrounded by grandiose rows of guards saluting.

by **Mirigli** » Fri Jul 21, 2017 1:48 pm

The guard of honour's performance was intricate and obviously well choreographed, and Quenti was slightly wistful, knowing in her lifetime her nation would never have the resources to put towards this kind of show. After the performance, which Amoxtili and Ixchel had paid great attention to, Quenti turned to the queen, preparing for the next part of the day.

by **Nordrik** » Fri Jul 21, 2017 2:44 pm

The review was over so the swords left to leave place for a series of tubas, horns, trumpets, trombones, euphoniums, sousaphones, and drums, as well as larger versions of the flags of Mirigli and Nordrik, held by a squadron of guards. In front stood a tall woman, one of the only of the military orchestra, holding a thin stick in one hand and leaving the other floating. In one gesture the brasses absorbed wind and the sticks fell unto the drums to produce the first note of the Mirigliai anthem, which was naturally being played first. The public had been thrown numerous cards with the lyrics, though practically nobody was able to sing them well, some tried their best to follow the phonetic translation, others puffed with their entourage at the most difficult words, and the anthem would have been a carnage if the bad singing wasn’t covered by a crew of trained chorists who found no problem in singing the anthem. The Nordrikker anthem was better known and the chorale did not serve the role of hiding the wrong melody, instead singing lower and accompanying the mass stuck behind the palace’s gate singing, some joyfully, others loudly, others in a humorous and theatrical tone, other yet in a whisper.
Once the last claps by the excited populace had faded away the Queen waved towards her subjects in a “see you later” way and entered the Palace with the others. Once inside, she turned to Quenti and announced that she’d have a private conversation with Quenti, as the protocol ordered it, whilst Olsen and Holsberg would give Gucumatz and Natupan a tour of the Palace as the tradition ordered. Natupan, at least, must have been familiar with that tradition given he had himself toured Nordrik for two weeks because of it.
In a gesture the Queen signaled to the translator he would not be needed. The less we are the better, she thought, as she opened a door into a less opulent place. Sure, it still wasn’t poverty, but comfy red velvet heavy sofa seats arranged around an unlit chimney had replaced the usual slender gold sided chairs, and, among the seats, a plain wooden table on which one could find coffee or tea. As soon as the door was closed the Queen started looking friendlier, and though she did not lose her regality she was clearly less formal.
“Please have a seat. What a terrible hostess I am” she said to Quenti, whilst doing so as well. She then proposed Quenti a drink before declaring
“First of all, be welcome in Nordrik and specifically in the Royal Palace, your home for the night. If I may say, I am extremely honoured to have the occasion to meet you, a foreign and female leader. We do not see enough of those these days. Besides, you are young and earned your title, I can only admire your dedication. “ Following this she asked a question that could be determining of their relationship “Now you are in power, do you find exercising it and representing your country to be pleasant or…how do we say…” Astrid snapped her fingers upon finding the correct Portuguese word “yes, pleasant or desaviante- challenging-“

by **Mirigli** » Sat Jul 22, 2017 1:19 pm

Pahuac smiled at the queen. "No worries, you are far from a terrible hostess, I assure you. Our time here so far has been most pleasant and impressive; I thank you for your warm welcome," she said first. She took a sip of her drink, considering the loaded question. "My country is - how should I say this - just emerging onto the world stage. We are nowhere near as developed on the international circuit as Nordrik is for we are still recovering from the bloody years behind us. But that doesn't mean I don't love my country; I'm sure the same as you to yours. If my place wasn't challenging I wouldn't be doing it right. It is because it is challenging to fight for my land that we have such great love for it."

She paused from her passionate words. "Your Portuguese is wonderful, maravilhoso -- were you raised in the South? -- but I've been told the Miriglese accent is very heavy when spoken quickly. Was I understandable?"

by **Nordrik** » Sat Jul 22, 2017 2:39 pm

The Queen attentively listened to Quenti as she spoke, and saw in her what could be a great debater. She had been debating before being Queen, though soon age and wisdom came to her and as one knows, wisdom and compromise are no advantage for this very popular Nordrikker pastime. Quenti still was young enough to have that ability to give life to her words, who would start to turn from fading sound to clear images. She could still be completely passionate to the point of forgetting her environment. Astrid somewhat envied her.
More than anything, Astrid heard here what she wanted to hear. The question was a test to determine if she was facing someone she could work with or someone she could very well see ousted out of her seat with no remorse. Quenti had replied correctly by saying the spot was challenging, Astrid had come to know, although she had herself no executive power, that representation and the art of being a head of state was a double-edged sword. If Quenti had said she was totally confident and saw no challenges, Astrid would have seen her as a short-vision woman. This was not the case, the opposite really. Besides, Quenti exercised power in a still recovering nation, so Astrid perfectly understood her response.
“I sincerely hope that the trade deal we will conclude as well as anything following that will help you in the erection of a new society in Mirigli. As long as I am on the throne and as long as you will love your country and its people you will find in Nordrik a sustainable friend.
As for the Portuguese, I was born in the Centre of the nation, but chose Portuguese in secondary school as a third language after Nordsih and English. As I became an author I started showing interest for that language, and tried writing in it. Took more courses, and did my best to speak fluently. I’m still not quite there, you can see me sometimes search the correct word for a couple of seconds, but you can’t get the votes from the South if you do not at least show some efforts with the language. They’re rather attached to it, and have been asking for a referendum to join the ALHN as an observant nation, though that is still in process of being thought upon. Long story short, as the Monty Python say: You have to know these things when you’re a King. Thi being said, who am I to say if your Portuguese I good or not? I can understand you, and that is a chance I might not have with other heads of state, that is to discuss head to ehad without any translator or other witness.
I haven’t even asked, I hope Olsen and Holsberg welcomed you well. They’re rather charismatic, Holsberg a bit more than Olsen, but they’re men and can be…well…men at times.” She chuckled. She also wanted to know about how the visit and deals would be perceived in Mirigli, and nobody better than the Sovereign of Mirigli could tell her that.

by **Mirigli** » Sat Jul 22, 2017 4:22 pm

Pahuac smiled at Astrid's explanation of Portuguese, before responding to her earlier statements. She let her know that Mirigli would vouch for Nordrik in the ALHN. "I believe a relationship between Nordrik and Mirigli will not only be beneficial to the both of us but also has the potential to become a permanent friendship. Free trade is a great first step. As for your emissaries, they were professional and adaptable, despite their unfortunate status as men," she joked. "Olsen was informative, but in particular we were impressed with Holsberg. He adapted to situations quite well and overall I was impressed. Nothing has been lacking in hospitality; now, we've only been here for a few hours, but I assure you respect is not forgotten by the people of Mirigli. Someday, perhaps, we will return the favor."

by **Nordrik** » Sun Jul 23, 2017 1:39 am

The Queen laughed a little, and realised it was pleasant to discuss with Qunti. Good thing, she thought, because State dinners can be daunting if it is a pain tospeak to your guests. "It would be a pleasure" said the Queen. "I never had the occasion to visit Mirigli before, though we often watch Tui Charrat. Nice festival really, journalists always battle to get to be sent there, and I always try to get the correct channel.

Yes better friendship between nations is always needed" the Queen nearly added an "especially nowadays". "The Isles are becoming only more and more polarized, and having a friend by your side always helps. I do hope this deal is well perceived at home?

Oh, and Holsberg is someone rather impressive. He used to be Chancellor, I remember our weekly meetings. When Olsen was looking for a Foreign Affairs Minister I told him Holsberg would be good, and he is rather popular. Some say he'll be my successor.

Anyway, you must be rather tired of the journey, and if you're lucky enough not to be the state dinner will be tiring if you don't rest a tad. I still have to introduce you to some senior government officials, and after that we'll show you your room. "

by **Mirigli** » Sun Jul 23, 2017 7:11 am

"Any allies are celebrated back in Mirigli, but I assure you Nordrik's already prestigious reputation will only be enhanced. In reverse, what will Nordrikkers think of Mirigli?" she asked. "Yes, that would be wonderful. I find myself needing more rest these days; I suppose it is an unfortunate side effect of aging."

by **Nordrik** » Sun Jul 23, 2017 10:35 am

“Many people see Mirigli as the country of Tui Charrat and fashion. The Business community is also enthused at the idea of forming friendship bonds with your nation. The Intelligentsia is not as glad, unfortunately, and we have our set of social justice warriors who are unhappy for reasons we both know. But they are a minority, and democracy is nothing but contending with minorities.”
She quickly changed subjects and led her out of the small private room into the hall of honour where all the Ministers stood, ready to meet the Sovereigns. Gucumatz and Natupan were also here, and undoubtedly, they have had time to discuss with the Ministers as well. All shook hands until Quenti reached the Minister of Culture, Hans-Ferñao Arden (composed Portuguese-Nordish first names were rather common in the South). He spoke faultless Portuguese, the best speaker of them all, as he used to be the President of a Portuguese-Promotion association and a figurehead of the fight for a referendum on admission in the ALHN. As he shook hands with Quenti he looked at her eyes and for the first time since long saw in them the eyes of someone who fought and suffered. He had been beaten when young for speaking Portuguese, publicly humiliated as a child for daring to use this language in school, and he saw someone who, too, had endured hardships-greater than his but hardships nonetheless- to get to where she was. “We are currently trying to convince Parliament and the General Population to get a referendum on registering to the ALHN. Any help would be…much appreciated. Especialy in tomorrow’s speech before Parliament. See you at the dinner tonight” he whispered.

by **Mirigli** » Sun Jul 23, 2017 12:10 pm

"Let's discuss this further at dinner tonight. I can try and help explain the benefits," she quickly responded to the Minister. She turned back to the Queen, waiting for the next step in the process, after she finished shaking hands and making greetings.

by **Nordrik** » Sun Jul 23, 2017 12:43 pm

The Queen now announced the Mirigliai delegation they would get an occasion to rest before the state dinner that was going to take place in the evening, and led them to their rooms. Three rooms were connected to one central room, which was itself connected to the rest of the Palace, giving Quenti, Gucumatz and Natupan a certain form of privacy and the occasion to have a common room for themselves, if they wanted to discuss anything. Each bedroom had a personal bathroom with tub and shower, and next to the sink was a strange object. It was like a pendulum with a spherical polished black stone as its weight.
"It is a remanant of an old story" explained the Queen. "One day in the XVIth century a Duke invited the King to his palace and offered him a drink, which was a powerful acid. The King was grateful, but before drinking he attached a stone to a string and dipped it into the glass, and discovered the stone had been corroded by the acid. The Duke was beheaded, and the tradition stuck. Today's stones are a bit more evolved, they change colour when exposed to large doses of arsenic, cyanide and most other chemical poisons, and get corroded when plunged into too acidic or too basic solutions. You'll see those tonight at the dinner as well. But enough of me hampering you, a steward will fetch you when the dinner will be ready, but do not forget: this palace has no closed doors. Feel free to go wherever you like, the gardens down there are nice enough. Just try not to get lost " she said in a chuckle, before leaving the Mirigliai delegation in the common room of their suite and gently closing the velvet coated doors.

by **Mirigli** » Sun Jul 23, 2017 7:03 pm

The three main Miriglese representatives had a quick conference before scattering to their duties. The state dinner was an opportunity to represent Mirigli well, and one of Mirigli's major exports: silk/cotton, and, relatedly, textiles. Quenti reminded all three to look their best, much to Gucumatz's annoyance. Unfortunately, being a walking, talking advertisement of Mirigliai fashion seemed to be one of her duties as a female representative of Mirigli. Quenti, generally, exempted herself from this rule on business occasions, wanting to be seen as a legitimate ruler rather than a fashionista (she personally was more a fan of an everyday pantsuit); but she was willing to grin and bear it in order to represent her country's values, at least on extremely formal occasions.

Natupan had the unfortunate duty of going over the progress of the treaty with the staffers. While Quenti videoed in with her sister and staff to cover matters of state, Amoxtili decided to go explore the gardens briefly before preparing for the dinner. She wandered downstairs, eventually meeting a friendly staffer who directed her to the gardens. She breathed in the fresh scent of earth, admiring the arches of the trees and the vibrant flowers. Sitting on a bench, Amoxtili decided to take ten minutes to quickly pray and meditate before heading back to her room, knowing Quenti would not be pleased with her time management, or lack thereof.

Quenti took the opportunity to shower and got dressed early in order to have time to be briefed on the day's happenings throughout the Western Isles. It never was wise to walk unprepared into a gathering of foreign dignitaries; who knew what could have happened in a short day. Quenti dressed in her gown, green to represent her nation.

She then purveyed the news. Covonant's soap opera; Xrevaro fires; ALHN. Tapping impatiently, she waited for Gucumatz to return from her childish exploration in order to brief her.

by **Nordrik** » Sun Jul 23, 2017 8:20 pm

Clara Arendberg was a twenty two year old Southern born staffer, and if anyone had told her she would reach the gates of the Royal Palace in Riksdam one day she would have been unbelieving. Yet, after graduating from four years of studies for a major in hospitality she was now in her first internship, a six month trial length that would, if she worked well, lead to a hiring, and being hired at the Royal Palace was considered a huge honour. She was back from the garden, where she had been sent to physically mark the spots decided for the tables of the state dinner by higher ranking staffers. Indeed, the weather was warm enough over the summer to allow for an outdoor dinner, and though the tables on the grass around the fountain listening to the piano could make one think of an informal venue it was no less a 1,500$ per head dinner with refined plates by advanced chefs.
One storey below her feet, under the magnificent Palace, a city within the city, a workshop within the palace from which one could always smell enticing fragrances of spices or freshly baked sweet pies and plenty of other wonders designed to entertain that fifth sense that was often forgotten. One could see the palace, hear the palace staffers, touch the palace’s soft seats and beds, smell the palaces indoor fragrances. The kitchens were the antechamber of what allowed guests to truly taste the palace. Behind this admirable motivation the cooks were stressed by the important dinner to come. It was, well, expensive, and it would truly represent Nordrik as loyally as the best of ambassadors if well prepared. A tasty dinner would be the frame for numerous interesting discussions flowing as one would, whilst listening to others, have an agreeable taste in their mouths. Because of this the kitchens were in movement as if they had become alive, and the general frame was a combination of numerous theatrical pieces and plots. On one side, one could see a senior cook tasting a preparation and ordering for a bit more salt, on the other another cook would start creating heavy beads of sweat as he desperately tried to fix his dysfunctional oven, soon helped by others who, once the oven effectively restarted, would have deserved the title of today’s heroes. On another side, one would be staring at their own oven to see a rising bread, trying to discern the perfect moment to take it out of the furnace, and on yet another side an experienced cook was yelling on a recruit whilst showing him how to properly cut vegetables. But truly, beyond these separate stories the kitchen was working in a perfect choreography and unity, as the lowest of recruits and the most recognized chefs were working side by side and together, united towards one same goal like a sports team vying for a world cup.
On her way back from the garden Clara nearly bumped into a rather well dressed woman, obviously Gucumatz, who was looking for the garden. Clara could feel her face heating up as it was probably starting to turn to a bright red colour, as after all one does not meet such high ranked people every day. The master of ceremonies had warned her it was possible to meet important dignitaries and sometimes the Queen over the corner of a corridor, but it had not happened to Clara yet. She pleasantly smiled and told the Minister the way to the garden, thanking god for letting her be born in the South allowing her to speak good Portuguese. Once her figure disappeared Clara still could not believe it. She had met a Minister! Like, someone who was on TV, who had shaken some of the United Kingdom’s most important hands!
Gucumatz was already far from the garden when the first tables arrived, though she might have still been there for the arrival of a three meter long piano that was painfully carried by a squadron of movers under the direction of the pianist and another man, the Master of Ceremonies, an eternally nameless figure who was the orchestrator of the whole protocol and ceremonies. After that came the tables, disposed around a fountain, and the table cloths, and the velvet coated gold plastered seats, and the hundred or so bouquets designed for the tables and the general environment, and discrete but charming lamps there to serve once the sky will have been dyed to a dark indigo colour. Further on came the plates of numerous colours, and the appropriate set of what the Master of ceremonies called dining instruments, and were really nothing but a couple of forks, knives and spoons per person, all moulded into silver with the royal coat of arms marked. At last, name tags were positioned on every seat. The seating had been thoroughly thought over. On most tables, composed of staffers and mildly prestigious dignitaries, Nordrikkers and Mirigliai were mixed. On the royal table, which was by far the most prestigious, eight people could fit and indeed the Queen, Olsen, Holsberg, Quenti, Gucumatz, and Natupan were there, but also Harald Fjodsen, Gucumatz’s homologue and Minister of Economy, Finance and the Industries. On the eight place was Hans-Ferñao Arden, who had somehow managed to land on that table, maybe because of his ability to translate, probably because he had well lobbied the Master of Ceremonies.
The Master of Ceremonies was in the kitchens, and his arrival had caused the cooks to cease their occupation for a couple of minutes to hear what he had to say
“When will it be ready. The aperitives I mean, of course, not the courses”
“We’ll have them in twenty minutes”
“Twenty minutes? Better be, if I have them all called I do not want them to uselessly wait”. Looking at the Court oenologist, he asked “What will you be serving them? Yes, you have your choice? Yes, the service staff will serve it all. Anyway, I’m gone, better be ready to serve in twenty minutes.”
“Not ready to serve, just already cooked. Add five minutes for the time for service staff to get down here and bring up the plates in the correct order.”
“Right. I’m calling them”
Once he was back from his underground adventure the MoC, his official acronym, called a steward and asked him to go up to the Mirigliai delegation’s apartments to warn them they may descend. He caught other stewards for the Queen, the Ministers, negotiators and other invited. The MoC looked one last time at the still silent garden, with the exception of the pianist who was finishing his pre-play exercising which was complex enough to be a piece of its own. The Master of Ceremonies grabbed a handkerchief and menially wiped out the sweat from his bald head. His night was only starting.
Meanwhile a steward had appeared before the Mirigliai door and, after a few heartbeats, knocked before announcing everything was ready for them .

Nordrik's State Visits (IC/TWI Only/INVITE)

Nordrik's State Visits (IC/TWI Only/INVITE)

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