This could be Heaven or this could be Hell... CLOSED

[Jungastia]

12h26 - Santo André - Palácio Nacional, The Royal Apartments

Izeba was fretting, whenever her brother came to visit, formally or not, she was always on edge. It had been a tough few months, for the King and Queen. The attacks in Kuelala and Gomerão had put great strain on not just the royal couple, but on the country as a whole.

“My Love, why do you let him get under your skin? You are different people.”

Agostinho, for all his stoicism, doted on her.

“This is not him joining us for easter, or when we went sailing. This is going to be a formal state affair, aside from our trip to visit the Amenukal.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, the soft cashmere jumper comforting her face.

“I know…

“You do, and if you think Takfarin will take any messing from him you obviously are forgettign what a determined man he is”

A soft relaxing breath slipped from her lips.

“You’re right…’

The Couple were due to head to the airport that afternoon to formally welcome the Boagan party. This was to be a state visit unlike most before. The complex relationship of the Jungastian royals with the leaders of the nomadic peoples of the south, meant that this was a state visit, within a state visit, for want of a better term. Takfarin, the Amenukal of the nomadic peoples, had invited both sets of royals, along with the Jungastian State Premier to visit him. This was the first time Agostinho had had this honour as king. His father had only been invited once before. This time was different though. After the attacks on berber peoples, Takfarin had sent his own eldest son to invite both Kings personally. The sending of the eldest son, was the highest honour. Agostinho knew why Izeba was fretting. It was important for this meeting to go well to maintain the contented status quo with the nomadic peoples.

---

12h31 - Santo André - The Defence Ministry Building, Av. das Forças Armadas 122

Santo André was a city designed for great state occasions, its sight lines, its parade routes, its setting on the coast. Things were well advanced. General Tiago Boaventura Garcia was sat in his office in the Defence Ministry overlooking the bay. A ceremonial fleet had been brought into port, led by the ageing, but breathtaking NSMF Convicção the former flagship, and one of the world’s largest battleships.

A relic, He thought, but what a relic, she still drew amazement from all those who were in her presence. A fitting welcome. A ship famed for her firepower, and the fiery Boagan King. It was almost as if he had planned this.

The General was a meticulous planner. He revelled in detail, in plans that went beyond anything anyone else could ever conceive. It was understandable then that this visit troubled him. The trip south took matters out of his hands. It was only the Royals and the State Premier who could go near the encampment. Security planning was thrown to the wall. The line of communication with Takfarin’s people was clear, there was a mutual understanding between the two men, a respect earned through respect. He still worried.

Things in his Cidade Incrível were going well. Motorcades were in place. The ceremonial guard were in position to welcome the incoming flight this afternoon. The Moços d’Esquadrão were in ceremonial uniform across the city. Flags flew from buildings, bunting strung across streets and avenues. The royal train was sat in sidings just outside the Central Station.

---

12h47 - 230km North of Kuelala - An Encampment of People

Takfarin knew he was making history.

He was prepared to make history.

His people had been attacked, The Jungastian’s had held their hands in love. The government had been decisive. They had earned his respect.

He knew of the Boagan King. He was obligated to invite the eldest brother of the Jungastian Queen. His people followed a complex line for their leader. Each Amenukal alternated between male and female, through a complex switching between siblings in the historic line. To not invite her brother would be to shame her family. He was by rights, also to invite Agostinho’s eldest sister. She, living in Koryeo, should not be obligated to travel so far. To expect such was a disrespect.

Erramun caused him anguish, as did the whole visit. He knew of the Boagan’s outspoken nature. How would he fit with his people? Would he understand their ways?

Takfarin had little plan, he was relaxed. The encampment was as it always was. His home. The only thing that the Jungastian General had asked, was that there would be a game of Camel Polo. Takfarin had given his word. He had planned for the caravan to move off the day after the party’s arrival, from the oasis to the flatter lands some hours north. He chuckled.

“Will these people be able to ride so far?…”

[Boaga]

“Heaven and Hell”
In the Air
Bonaventure Straits

Lately, it seemed as though the Queen of Boaga was traveling so much that she may as well have lived on an airplane. At this point, I pretty much do. Queen Cecilia of Boaga, Princess of Agrana and Griegro, had converted her private cabin on the Boagan Monarchy’s private plane into something reminiscent of her old room at her mother’s palace in Monte Real.

The large, rectangle-shaped cabin was a mess, with random magazines, clothes and CDs strewn across the floor. Many of these magazines had nothing to do with each other, ranging from fashion, nature, science, mechanics and even a few of the pornographic variety. Likewise, the CDs varied from folk music, classical music, metal, jazz and hip-hop. As for the clothes, they were mostly undergarments and bathing suits.

Cecilia didn’t like servants packing her luggage, so she always insisted on doing that herself. However, she was also highly disorganized and absent-minded, and frequently misplaced things, hence the current disarray. As for the queen, she was sitting cross-legged on her large bed on top of numerous disheveled blankets and sheets, wearing only a shift, her long red hair cascading around her head and her blue eyes narrow from the marijuana smoke. In one hand she was reading a magazine about tanks, and in the other hand she was smoking a well-wrapped joint.

The queen was listening to a song that was playing on a stereo sitting on the floor next to her bed. It was one of her favorite CDs…metal of a certain variety that was highly frowned-upon in her home country, not that she cared. Cecilia was a contrarian by nature, and quickly took a liking to the things that were abhorred in her mother country.

For instance, Cecilia was rather fond of metal and hip-hop, was a connoisseur of vintage pornography, was a fluent speaker of Teutonic and Goidelic, studied and practiced various non-Christian religions and was a disciple of socialism. She slept during mass, skinny-dipped and cursed like a sailor. Even as a little girl, she poked and prodded her tutors, and by habit searched for holes in the religious teachings imparted on her.

Naturally, many people wondered how such a wily queen consort came to be. The truth of the matter is, Cecilia was very much a product of her environment. Cecilia was the youngest child of the former Queen Cristina II of Agrana and Griegro, and the much younger sister of Princess Isabella, who succeeded Cristina as Queen of Agrana and Griegro. Cecilia was very much the opposite of her sister. Isabella was the oldest child, a natural-born leader, intelligent, wise and politically astute. Cecilia learned from a young age that even if she was the best that she could be, there was never a realistic chance that she would be elected queen over her sister.

Fortunately, that never bothered Cecilia. She observed the trappings of the crown, how weighty the expectations of rule were, and she wanted no part of that. Besides, her freedom never knew any bounds. As the youngest child, she was spoiled, and Queen Cristina delighted in her daughter’s willful nature. Anything Cecilia did, Cristina thought was cute, and no matter how misbehaved Cecilia was, Cristina could not find fault. As one might imagine, this caused a rift between Isabella and Cecilia that persisted to the present day.

Cecilia made a decision as a teenager that she would achieve something, mostly out of a desire to spite her sister. She didn’t want anything handed to her, but rather, what she had she wanted to get on her own merits. She took a liking to the brooding young King of Boaga, Erramun XII, and luckily for her, Erramun took a liking to her too. By the time they married, Erramun was already king, and upon their marriage, she immediately became Queen Consort, and what a Queen Consort she was.

It was said in Boaga that the queen was a bad influence on the king, for he seemed to pick up several bad habits from his wife. Gaffe-filled interviews, public incidents of swearing, and various actions that compromised royal decorum. The conservative elements of Boaga despised her, while the youth, who tended to be more socially progressive, absolutely adored her. She was widely popular with the Teutonic minority in Boaga due to her fondness for their people, and given her personal sympathies towards the League of Free Nations, was well-liked by the political left that identified with that bloc of nations.

The king, by contrast, was far more conservative. He was something of a reactionary, leaning heavily towards the North-South Concordant, was an unabashed Tiperyn apologist, and cared little for the Teutons in Boaga, unlike his father. Cecilia and Erramun very much had a love-hate relationship, and as a result they generally avoided talking about three things… religion, politics and drugs, none of which ever ended pleasantly for either of them

By the time the next song was almost done, there was a knock on the cabin door. “Your Majesty,” the husky feminine voice said, “we will be making our final descent soon. I would advise getting ready.”

Cecilia finished puffing on her joint and responded, “thanks Brunhilda.” The Queen’s personal companion was a Teutonic countess by the name of Brunhilda von Brunslenburg. She was the same age as Cecilia, and from the mountainous Boagan-Agranian border, where her family’s ancestral lands were. She looked every part the proper Teutonic noblewoman, as she was tall and strapping, with blonde hair and blue eyes, with a gentle demeanor and a sharp intellect, dignified and poised. Cecilia knew her family back in Agrana and Griegro were displeased by Cecilia’s choice of companion, but that only made her even fonder of Brunhilda.

The queen got to work preparing for touchdown in Jungastia after she finished her joint. She began jamming her clothes into her bags, leaving the magazines and CDs where they laid upon the floor. She had a closet where she kept the white sundress she intended on wearing at the reception, and she quickly changed out from her shift into her sundress. Cecilia was a thin, limber woman so it took her little time to get changed. Jungastia had something of a reputation for being hot, and seeing as how Cecilia burned rather easily, she pinned her hair in a bun and trapped it beneath a white wide-brimmed sunhat that went with her outfit.

Knowing her in-laws to be formal stiffs, Cecilia knew quite well that she couldn’t be received by them stinking of marijuana, so she put on a combination of perfume and scented sunscreen on her face to extinguish the smell. While she was putting the final touches on her outfit and her luggage, she thought about the occasion awaiting her and her husband.

Santo André was the capital and largest city of Jungastia, and was especially large by Boagan standards. Erramun’s older sister Izeba was married to King Agostinho III of Jungastia, and those two were very much made for each other. Cecilia regarded both of them to be proper, austere and rigid, not the sort of people that one would find a party, or at least the sort of parties that Cecilia considered worth going to. Erramun and Izeba had a difficult relationship, and Cecilia empathized with Erramun due to her own relationship with her older sister Isabella.

By the time Cecilia was done getting ready, the plane was making its final descent into Santo André, and the last song of the CD was playing. She looked over her luggage one more time and checked herself in the mirror, saying out loud to herself in the mirror “it’s time to kick ass and chew bubblegum, and I’m all out of gum.”

Once the song was over, the CD stopped playing, and Cecilia could feel the plane touching down on the tarmac. After the plane came to a stop, Cecilia opened the door of her cabin and began throwing her luggage out into the common area of the plane. Erramun, Brunhilda, and the various guards and servants were all ready to go. Brunhilda was dressed in a light blue sundress and Erramun was wearing a proper court outfit appropriate for a king.

“You look like you had fun,” Erramun said to his wife with a slight grin.

”And you look like you were bored out of your mind,” responded Cecilia with a laugh. “Let me guess, you read a book about statesmanship. Boring ass shit, hopefully you got some sleep reading that.”

Erramun nodded, “yeah, I did.” It was at that moment that the plane’s step ramp lowered, to which Erramun said to his wife, “let’s go.”

Cecilia cracked her knuckles and popped her neck, before locking arms with Erramun and stepping out into the warm Jungastian afternoon sun. They made their descent down the steps side-by-side, followed by their entourage. Cecilia was going without her sunglasses, so her eyes strained against the light. In the event that someone asked her about her eyes, her planned answer was that it was a red-eye flight. No pun intended…

[Jungastia]

13h51 - Santo André - Palácio Nacional

The car exited the large gilded gates that sat in front of the royal palace. The Life Guards, the King’s personal regiment were, despite the temperatures of this late September day, in full regalia. This formal visit necessitated the full showing of splendour. Izeba and Agostinho sat looking out of the windows as the city began to pass by. Izeba’s dress, a pretty dark blue, was lighter in fabric than one might expect a typical Santo to wear, despite living in the country for some years, she still hadn’t settled into the warmth. Today was to be kinder. The breeze from the bay was cooling.

The King had a light jumper on under his jacket. Unlike his wife, he was used to the heat. His late father spent most of his down time much further south and inland.

As the car began to leave the city, Izeba looked at her husband. “You know my sister-in-law will find all the grandeur of a state visit almost laughable. She already thinks we’re uptight. Two hundred Moços in full ceremonial dress, the troops everywhere, I mean for god’s sake a flotilla in the bay! Though I’m sure Brother mine will relish in the statecraft. ”

“You worry too much. Anyway none of this is my doing, after Takfarin sent that invite the government went into overdrive. As much as she like to be informal, your sister-in-law knows that state occasions are a bit over the top. Plus we can make sure your brother gets downtime, and hopefully doesn’t put his foot in it with Takfarin.” Agostinho did his best to hide the fact that he took great joy in grand state occasions. His father spoke all to often about how under the dictatorship, there was no pleasure in showcasing the country. No ability for the monarch to decline anything already approved by the government.

The car sped along the Autoestrada out to the airport, though even Agostinho thought the size of the motorcade was a tad excessive. The Boagan plane was scheduled to land in around ten minutes according to the aide sat with the royal couple.

“Showtime.” Izeba smiled as the motorcade pulled into the airport.


“It’ll be good to see them, and I do love the fact that for part of this trip we are the guests too. Takes a bit of pressure off. But today will be a busy day.” The king said, holding his wife’s hand gently.

The cars swept up to the already prepared red carpet, the Boagan plane could be seen in the distance entering the apron in a shower of fire engine water cannon. Amassed were, as we, a formation of naval ratings, the Band of the Life Guards and a company of Moços d’Esquadrão. The Life Guards band sprung into life with the Royal March as the doors of the royal car were opened.

The royal couple stopped to speak to Admiral Garcia, as the Boagan plan taxied slowly into position.

“Your Most Faith Majesties.” said the Admiral, his gloved hand rising to a naval salute. “I trust you had a pleasant journey”

“Absolutely. Your planning has not gone unnoticed Admiral. I assume the Convicção is all ready for dinner, and I assume you received my note the other day?” The King returned the salute.

The two Kings greeted each other warmly, after all they were essentially family.

“I trust you had a good flight over Brother mine.” Izeba hugged her brother warmly.

The formality of the arrival was not lost on the Boagan King, with the large honour guard and multiple salutes given not just by the two hundred or so naval ratings, but the Moços raising their swords. It was obvious how much Cecilia loathed this formality.

“I have a little treat for you Erramun, I had Admiral Garcia make some changes that I think you will enjoy when we get into the city.”

---

13h30 - Santo André - City Centre

The city was awash with flags. It was a city almost designed for this exact occasion. There was a reason that it was called the City of Blinding Lights. In the day time the water of the bay lit up the shoreline with the glint of sunshine. In the night, the buildings glittered with light, the monuments all lit up with fantastic light patterns.

In the bay the ceremonial fleet sat in the smooth water. The NSMF Convicção sat mored against the quayside, her hulking beauty dominating the view out to sea. On board the ship, the Wardroom was being prepared for lunch, with the King’s last missive to the Admiral causing a bit of a headache for the crew who had set for the battleship to remain moored. It seemed Agostinho had alternative plans. The ship was to sail into the heart of the bay and anchor into position, bow on to the city.

Along the parade route to the quay, roads were slowly being closed and traffic being diverted. Life for most people was going ahead as normal, but crowds had started to gather outside the Congress, and along Avenida Oceânica through the heart of the city, because as much as Jungastians disliked things getting in the way, they loved an excuse to be on the streets and inevitably, to party. It was likely that the flag waving and cheering would end up with samba.

For all its grandeur, and for all their rigidity, nothing got hold of Santos than an excuse to dance.