A Most Joyous Occasion [Open: Ajax only, IC]

[Mesogeia]

Great Sacred Imperial Palace, Alexandropolis

After many weeks and months of meticulous planning the jubilee celebrations that had been prepared to celebrate Empress Elena II’s sixty years on the throne were finally here. Just as the sun began to rise over the Alexandropolis skyline the beacon of the Pharos in the Old Imperial Palace was lit signaling an end to an all night process of the lighting of beacons that had began the night before in northern Mesogeia and run on through the night as one beacon was lit every hour for twelve hours straight staring at the beacon of Pantikapaion and ending at the beacon of the Pharos in the Imperial Palace of Alexandropolis, with the ancient beacons of Paradan, Maka, Marakanda, Bakhla, Farsagadae, Agbatana, Artaxata, Mazaca, Hydeis, and Chalcedon, before finally reaching the capital.

In historic times these beacons had alerted the capital and the imperial armies in the south of invasions of the north or rebels in the north but now these symbols of an ancient past heralded the diamond jubilee countdown for the nation. The southern provinces on the other side of the Tryphon river that hugged the Periclean coast possessed no beacon system on the scale of the northern provinces due in part to the area being almost continuously garrisoned and traversed by imperial armies moving along the great east west highway the Megalo Dromos “The Great Way.

With the sun now directly above the beacon of the Pharos in the Great Sacred Imperial Palace the Imperial Court Orchestra, commonly called the Naqqara Khana-ye Mobaraka began playing their musical instruments for exactly fifteen minutes to alert the palace of the movement of the sun. By tradition they would perform for fifteen minutes straight for five times throughout the day for every two hours even if the Empress and imperial family were not in residence at the palace.

While the Empress regularly used the Great Sacred Palace for working, grand state occasions and the regular court receptions, she like her father and grandfather before her, chose to actually live at the more personable eight-hundred room Palace of Mangana located about twenty minutes or so north of the Old Palace.

The eight-hundred roomed creme-colored Mangana palace was as personable and private as palaces came in regards to an imperial residence located in the center of a city with millions of people. The Palace was purchased from the last Duke of Mangana in the 1770s by Constantine XVIII who presented the palace to his Empress consort who used the palace as a private residence away from court; but Mangana did not truly become a home until the accession of Elena’s Great Great Grandparents Theodora III and Michael XIV who took up residence in the palace in late 1840s and raised a family of twelve in its walls until Michael’s untimely death in 1880s which threw the late Empress Theodora III into a decade of full and semi full mourning where she was seldom seen in public during which time the monarchy experienced a serious dip in its popularity. However the Mangana Palace had since turned to happier occasions. Even with its eight hundred rooms Elena found the palace far more comfortable and warm in comparison to the complex of palaces, pavilions, halls, and chambers that made up the Great Sacred Palace to its south with its total number of rooms numbering between 4,000 and 6,018 rooms in total if the expansive rooms of the Gynaikeion and the cavernous cellars and secret passageways that run underneath the complex were to be included in their number.

The somber color schemes of oak browns, subtle grays, and pale reds that had characterized the halls of the Great Sacred Palace during the reign of Her Imperial Majesty’s father had long since gave way to a more lively color scheme which featured bright crimson, ivy green, luminous white and so on.

Imperial Bedchamber, Mangana Palace, Alexandropolis

Meanwhile at the Mangana Palace Empress Elena II’s Chief Eunuch entered the bedchamber to awake his mistress from her sleep. Having served as Elena’s faithful servan for decades, His Excellency Prince Bardas Paphlagoniaou, the Empress’ Chief Eunuch had grown old and gray in his many years of service to his sovereign. Having arrived at court as a young youth, and the rumored illegitimate son of the late Duke of Paphlagonia, the doors of respectable society being closed to him due to the manner of his birth, he willingly went under the knife following a riding accident that rendered him impotent.

Unable to take his biological father’s surname Komnenos, Prince Bardas instead opted to use the name of his native land instead, that of Paphlagonia, located in Mesogeia’s southeastern coastal region.

In the immediate years between his arrival at court as a lowly page, to his elevation to a Chamber eunuch to eventually assuming the role of one of the country’s two Chief Eunuchs, the elderly Chief eunuch had received numerous honors, including the title of Prince, a court honorific that gave him privileged access to the most exclusive of court receptions, and a spacious apartment within all the residences the Empress decided to live in.

The most lofty of all the distinguished honors that Prince Bardas possessed was the prestigious title of Parakoimomenos ton Koitonos, an office that dated back to the medieval period that denoted a high ranking chamberlain privileged enough to sleep at the foot of the sovereign’s bed for their protection; although in the modern period the Parakoimomenos of the Imperial Bedchamber instead slept in an adjacent chamber to the Imperial Bedchamber.

His Excellency entered the chamber to find the Empress already awake and reading the news from her smartphone in her nightgown.

“Good morning, Your Imperial Majesty.” the Chief Eunuch started as he bowed his head to the Empress. “Good morning, Your Excellency.” the Empress replied, still looking down at her phone.

“Her Most Gloriousness the Dowager Duchess of Lycaonia has arrived for your majesty’s dressing, ma’am.”

“Ah yes,” The Empress responded as she rose up. “Did her Most Gloriousness decide on an appropriate gown for today’s reception?”

“Ma’am I believe the Grand Mistress selected the peach colored silk chiton with the spring floral designs, the one by Leventis for your majesty to wear to the morning reception for the religious clerics.”

“Ahhh yes,” the Empress smiled. “Leventis is a truly marvelous designer, I love his new collection, so inventive.”

“Let the Grand Mistress in.” Elena replied.

Soon after the Empress’ Grand Mistress, the Dowager Duchess of Lycaonia entered the room followed by six other ladies in waiting who would help the empress to dress.

After the Dowager Duchess had curtsied to the Empress, the Chief Eunuch handed her the Leventis Chiton as his gender and rank rendered him unable to take the leading role in the Empress’ dressing; this role instead falling to the Grand Mistress of the Court. However were a Grand Princess, Princess of the Blood Imperial or even a princess of any one of the ten kingdoms subordinate to the Empress were to have entered the chamber they would immediately be granted the right to dress the sovereign as was custom.

In most occasions the Empress would have donned a purple chlamys with gold embroidered tablia as overcoat to a reception, instead for this meeting with the highest religions leaders in the realm the Empress opted to wear a gold threaded loros, a sacred shawel like cloth folded in the shape of a cross around the Empress’ chiton.

*****
Empress private audience chamber, Imperial Apartments, Mangana Palace, Alexandropolis

After the Empress ladies in waiting had finished helping her get dressed they passed into the Imperial apartments’ antechamber were they were joined by the personages responsible for constant attendance on the Empress when she attended to official duties; included amongst their number were a Chamber eunuch, a chamberlain, a physician, and a aide de camp all working in biweekly rotations being appointed from their respective court departments to serve the Empress personally.

The eunuch and gentlemen bowed to the Empress before the party proceeded down the hall to the Empress’ private Audience hall where the leading officials of the three great religious communities of the empire awaited the empress.
By the time the reception for the religious clerics had been completed the palace gardens of the Mangana Palace had been decorated for a garden party reception for the honored foreign guests.

*****

Mangana Palace Gardens,

After the Empress had changed into a less formal chiton that was more appropriate for a garden party she was joined by the other members of the Imperial family in the palace gardens of Mangana as they awaited the arrival of their guests.

The gardens of Mangana had been richly decorated for the evening with great torches lining the walksways. The smell of sweet aromatic scents filled the air as liveried servants moved about placing the finishing touches on the preparations for the garden party, which included ensuring all the food remained heated and all the wine remained at an appropriate temperature for serving as well as ensuring all the flowers were neatly trimmed, and that all the candles and torches were of significant length the task falling the the appropriately named Chief Torchbearer whose position had evolved with the times ever since the court had made the switch to electricity over a hundred and fifty years ago.

Meanwhile the Chief Musician gathered at appointed place just above the gardens with the other members of the Imperial Court Orchestra and readied themselves to serenade the Empress and her guests all evening long.

While the evening would not consist of a state dinner, the guests would be treated to Mesogeian delicacies such as traditional drinks such as pine resin flavored Retsina white wine, the spiced Malvasia wine, and the sweet flavored Kommenidouka, ayran, coffee, tea, and even honey mead; and such foods as Taramsalata served on Pita bread, venison or lamb cold cuts served with garum sauce or tzatziki, various cheeses served with fruit, and chilled sharbat.

*************
Around the imperial capital
While the Empress prepared to entertain her guests in the gardens of Mangana the Imperial Museums, a collection of historic national museums and galleries that housed imperial treasures that belonged to the crown and to the state were preparing to open Imperial exhibitions to mark the occasion of the sixtieth anniversary of the Empress’ accession to the throne.

The Imperial Gallery of Historic Arts commonly shortened to just the Imperial Gallery which contained various forms of art including paintings, manuscripts, portraits, drawings, sculptures, decorative arts, and photographs, many of which were owned by the imperial family in trust opened a wing dedicated to the the display of portraits painted each year of the Empress and the imperial family during her sixty years on the throne so people could walk through and see the empress as she aged and her family grew and left the nest and so on.

Its sister museum the Imperial Museum of Historic Treasures which served as the national history museum for the country displayed both historical treasures related to human history as well as natural history als prepared an exhibition of its own.

Now upon such notable artifacts as traditional Mesogeian costumes, the personal belongings of historical figures, and all other artifacts related to the history of Mesogeia and the surrounding countries the museum would add a wing dedicated to the Empress displaying historically significant gifts she had received from foreign diplomats over the years.

Meanwhile The Imperial Court Armoury which contained some twenty chembers housing the imperial banners, weapons, armor, clothing, household items, furniture pieces, tapestries , carpets, horse gear, drums, religious items, unset precious stones and donated jewels, and other valuables belonging to past emperors as well as the imperial crown jewels now added a wing dedicate to the display of nearly sixty years of chitons worn by the Empress for the opening of the Synedrion and various other state occasions. Noticeably missing from the line up were the times the Empress had been heavily pregnant and unable to open the national legislature.

Finally, even the Imperial Library, commonly called the Court Library due to it being housed on the grounds of the Great Sacred Palace, got into the celebrations by unveiling a list of the most popular books written during the Empress’ sixty years on the throne as well as opening a room featuring loaned documents from the Imperial Archives dating back nearly one hundred and twenty five years ago to the reign of the Empress’ Great Great Grandparents.

[Mutul]

"We have receptioned the twenty bottles of Chocolate from His Holiness' own collection, the designer silk-and-patch' mantle, and, of course, the Ikaatz. None of the gifts are missing."

Both the Josanek and the Ambassador inspected the gifts carefully, notably the Ikaatz. These luxurious pieces of jewelries were of special signification in the Mutul: made almost solely from jade, these long necklaces were created and offered as gift for special occasion. Each Ikaatz was unique, with its patterns, materials, and number of pieces carefully selected by the craftsman to best suit the context of the gift. This Ikaatz for example was made up of precisely sixty unique pieces of jade, beads or otherwise, and the "main plate" was engraved with the Arms of the Mesogeian Imperial House.

Beside the jewelry, each bottle was also inspected by the two diplomats. The glyphic stamps on the glass and on the seal confirmed the origin and identity of each bottle and they were expected to confirm to their Master back in K'alak Muul that all of His gifts had been delivered without fail.

The two men were already dressed for their role. As Eb'et, or envoys, they had to don a very specific dress. A perfectly white cotton mantle over an equally white dress, each button, buckle, or pin holding the dress made from nacre. On their heads were wide-brimmed low-crom hats, once again of a pure monochromatic white and made entirely from cotton, with exactly three quetzal feathers stuck in the brim. Their own jewels were long necklaces of pearls dropping to their chests. The only difference between the two was the subtle threads of silver running through the Josanek' mantle which, when hit by the right light, revealed large but subtle glyphs, and a single ring of white gold on his right hand. Both were subtle indication of their wearer' position as not only a diplomat, but the living god of all diplomats in the service of the Divine Lord.

Satisfied by their inspection, the two men left the storage room, leaving further handling of the gift to their staffs. The tense silence between them was palpable. Ahin Chan Toktan, Josanek and thus one of the closest men to the Divine Lord, had little love for Jasaw Hobnil, the ambassador to Mesogeia and it was mutual. Although Ahin Chan Toktan respected his subordinate' talents as a diplomat, their secret enmity was almost physiological: Ahin Chan Toktan was taller, leaner, and, being only sixty-two, younger. Jasaw Hobnil meanwhile, while not overweight, was more corpulent and of smaller stature, leaning over his cane of ebene wood. Even his skin tone was darker, more red, than that of his superior, signs that showed that, countrary to the Josanek, he was not a "Metis". An important detail as for the past three decades the Mutul has relied more and more on "Metis" to be the international face of the Divine Kingdom, believing that in some countries it help ease off interlocutors even on a subconscious level. Jasaw Hobnil was thus the remnant of a time long gone, a time when the Metis Clique, de-facto led by Ahin Chan Toktan, was not in charge. But his experience in eastern Belisaria and western Ochran made him invaluable still and thus the men, who both evolved in the arcane and occult "Belisarian Section" of the Mutulese diplomacy, had plenty of occasions to meet, work together, and develop this political and personal disdain against one another as their careers began progressing at different speeds and in different direction.

"We have heard some locals have yet to take a liking to you ?" asked innocently the Josanek, implicitly threatening the ambassador' position and promising to replace him with one of "his creatures" as he knew Jasaw Hobnil liked to call Metis diplomats. A meaning well understood by the elderly diplomat although only a small movement of his nostrils betrayed his inner rage quickly quelled by his decades of experience.

"Your Beatitude need no fret. Only locals who only like themselves and their mirrors have taken a dislike to everything foreign. It's one way for them to compensate for their lack of relevency in internal matters. But do not worry, the Mesogeian spirit know how to recognize and respect what is important."

What the veteran ambassador referenced was easy to understand. Ahin Chan Toktan may have been a noble and the son of an ambassador to the Latium, his house was of little prestige and wealth and he himself was a bastard. Jasaw Hobnil meanwhile was a Chen, one of the oldest recorded lineage in the Mutul. This aristocratic prestige and pride were anything but obstacles in a country such as Mesogeia.

"And who are those self-centered non-threats who might still be able to cause issues ?"

"Name's Teophano your Beatitude. She's the Empress stepmother and very critical of how the nation has evolved. She has her own court, including a few prestigious names such as Princess Glaphyra of Kappadokia who is herself of royal lineage. As per Mesogeian customs, their blood is too precious to be spilled or threatened so they are kept around by Her Imperial Majesty to serve as foils of sort. Teophano herself is currently of little threat: she's burned herself very early on trying to install her son on the throne and since then most of her plots and schemes have gone nowhere. You will find her and her henchmen to be crass and vulgar, irrespectuous of all protocol. They will certainly be present during those festivities, part of the entertainement you see."

Hearing those descriptions, Ahin Chan Toktan could only think back to the fate of the Divine Lord' late half-sister and her maternal family who also tried to challenge His authority. A robbery gone wrong that led to an house fire, the perpetrators never caught by the authorities, and the pictures of the charred corpses published in every newspaper of the time. The princess herself was simply placed in semi-exiles in a different palace until the death of her father the Divine Lord. After what she simply disappeared with no word about it in the press nor in the court.

"Her Majesty is merciful." is all he commented and the ambassador simply nodded. The court war between the the prince and princess have scarred a generation. It was the last conflict between royals to have been fought from the streets to the palaces. The discretion and secrecy surrounding most of these events hiding nothing of their brutality.

"She is, your Beatitude. Merciful and generous. Her people' love is real and we will be witnesses to it."

[Belfras]

Down the streets of Alexandropolis, many roads were likely being closed off or temporarily halted as the numerous motorcades sliced through the capital heading to the gardens. A jubilee was no small thing, and for the black motorcade proudly waving the flag of the Federation, they were heading from the Federation embassy to the gardens. A visit to Ambassador Leontis, who regretted his own inability to attend the festivities, was the earlier stop for the King, his second son and the Foreign Minister to busy themselves while the Empress carried out her morning duties.

The visit to the embassy had been altogether an uneventful affair, especially if you'd ask the King. People whom have never seen him before gawked, star-struck. The ambassador, Lord Leontis, he had met once in Thessalona during the ambassador's appointment to Mesogeia. He did, however, find it highly amusing when his son George parroted his own thoughts when the car door closed and they began to move.

"Dad, I do believe I found a stone in my shoe the other day with more personality than that man." George had timed his comment to when Nicholaus had taken a sip of bottled water, causing him to choke out a laugh.

"That's my boy, calling it as it is." Nicholaus said when he could find his words. "Ambassador Leontis was highly recommended to the position by his predecessor, but only god knows why. If the Empress asks for a new ambassador in the position we'll have to say yes. We'll assign him to your properties!"

"Good time to swear off this role and hide in the hills, then." George countered.

"Your Majesty" Lentula cut in. The Foreign Minister, Valentina Lentula, always wore the brightest dresses and spun her poison as fine thread. Despite her appearances, Nicholaus did find she hated one thing in particular - The 'Dimitriosi Informality', which essentially meant that the King was a shining paragon in public but a typical father and brother in private.

"We should note that tonight there may be some elements that may cause issues, your Majesty, but none to be overly worried about." Lentula continued, checking her nails. "Racists, power-hungry egomaniacs that may want a few minutes of fame. Granted, they're likely to be under heavy guard to keep from ruining this jubilee for the Empress. And we have other guests; we do know that the K'uhul Ajaw has sent representatives, but with our warming relations we should be able to carry ourselves well. Just avoid anything to do with Ayeli, as a recommendation."

"Of course, of course." Nicholaus answered, nodding his head while looking out the window of the car as it moved through Alexandropolis. "Isn't that odd, now? If you didn't know you were in another country on another continent, you'd be half convinced you were in Thessalona or Orestes. Look, a Peppergrewls!" He noted out the famous bookmakers that had started in Thessalona in the mid 19th century and now had a wide international presence.

"Depending how the food goes, we'll be needing a fast food delivery." George threw his own comment in before having Lentula check his tie. He could do his own Alban Knot, but couldn't quite perfect it in a moving car.

"I've been informed that a delightful array of wines are available, along with mead and meats with bread." Lentula listed

"Oh, you need to lead with that next time!"

"Now of course," Nicholaus began "We should remember that this boy would absolutely demolish the roasts but leave the vegetables unless sat down and demanded to by his mother."

"Yes, but that's the greenery, dad. You eat the meat and give the greens back to the rabbits. Otherwise, what will they eat?"

".. And here we are!" Lentula spoke to interrupt the two as the motorcade began to slow down at the gardens.

"Right, well." Nicholaus looked down at himself briefly. "If this evening is going to be half as entertaining as it's promising to be, Foreign Minister, I shall refuse to do it sober. George, my boy. Let's find the alcohol first."

Upon leaving the vehicle, trading niceties with the greeting staff and being ushered inside the simply staggeringly beautiful gardens the trio found themselves being given wine glasses by a waitress who bowed her head and made herself scarce almost immediately afterward.

Nicholaus took a sip and stopped for a moment, as if processing it. "Peculiar." he commented, "I do believe this is the 'pine resin' flavoured wine." he informed his son as he offered him the glass. George, of course, took it and took his own sip.

"Not quite Vermillion grape, is it dad?" George winced briefly before schooling himself. "I have heard of this spiced wine they've perfected, though. If you'll excuse me, I shall reconnoitre for a sample." he said with a brief wink, sleuthing himself through a crowd toward the servers tables. Nicholaus but laughed, looking over to Lentula.

"You may take the boy from the army, but the army shall forever be in the boy." he commented, patting his suit jacket as he nodded toward the Mutulese delegation and what, he presumed, was some Mesogeian nobles. "Shall we mingle?"

[Mesogeia]

Mangana Palace Gardens, Alexandropolis

The Empress, ever the gracious hostess, moved about the gardens of the Mangana Palace with relative ease, going between assembled courtiers and foreign guests alike making small talk with all who she came across. From an early age Elena had become well versed on the peculiar sciences related to being a conversationalist.

Alas what else could she do in her youth besides learn court etiquette, impeccable manners, appropriate conversation topics, and so on, all the things that would have made any young lady the perfect princess, or in Elena’s case the perfect Grand Princess. For that was what her destiny would have been if her mother had lived and bore a son, or even if her late beloved stepmother Empress Dowager Stateira had produced a son instead of her three half sisters any one of them would have replaced Elena has heir apparent but because Stateria would not or could not bear a living son, Elena remained her father’s heir.

There was an attempt to have Elena replaced as heiress by her infant half brother but the plot was foiled and the ringleaders were all imprisoned, banished from court or executed, all that is except for Elena’s only living stepmother the Dowager Imperial Consort Theophano, the mother of the infant Elena’s detractors had thought to replace her with. While many cried that a man would do better on the imperial throne then a young girl, Elena’s supporters argued that not only was the then Grand Princess an adult unlike her younger brother she was also born of a senior empress and thus a legitimate heiress unlike her brother who could only succeed after the senior legitimate lines had been exhausted and or the kings of the realm had voted him onto the throne.

Something no such self respecting Mesogeian would do when the Emperor possessed a legitimate child already.

In any case, Elena inherited the throne upon her father’s death and she has been perfecting her skills at conversation for well over sixty years.

One had to be skilled at conversation when it came to the Mesogeian imperial court, especially if one was at a state reception. Oftentimes one of the Grand Masters of the court would assign a person for the Empress to converse with although at receptions that demanded for the Empress to be seen and to speak with multiple people over the course of the night, the conversations would typically only last for about three to five minutes after this the conversation would end and the Empress would move on to the next guest on so on.

This form of conversing that had been perfected in Mesogeia was known as the cycle because it appeared to onlookers that the monarch was cycling through the guests. That is not to say that the Empress would abruptly end the conversation and walk off, instead if the Empress wished to wrap up a conversation she would simply tell the guest that she was very pleased that they had come to visit her and that she hoped to see them again or if she wished to end one that had run on long past its time she would simply switch her Chovgan handbag from one shoulder to the other then her Grand Mistress, the Dowager Duchess of Lycaeonia would step forward with some excuse which required the Empress’ attention urgently.

The Empress was very pleased to see that the Belfrasian and Mutulese parties were getting along. She thanked them both for being there, as she did everyone else that she met

[Itayana]

1400 01.10.2022
Jungles near Erinle River
7th Governorate, Itayana

Air Marshal Ka'ayome Aritere downed the third glass of cooled burukutu, put a paper on the desk, then laid back in her chair. Even after four hours she couldn't believe what was written on that paper, and yet it was written, black hieroglyphs on beige stamped paper. Now, Marshal was waiting a guest, a fellow priestess and a fellow aviator, like herself. She knew she would arrive at the shortest notice, yet waiting for her was a torture and minutes passed like eternities.

Finally, the door opened. She saw a figure in white priestly robes with black dazzle pattern, and a similarly patterned mask. Robe's cape obscured her head entirely. Marshal raised herself and silently bowed. The other priestess responded the same, then pulled back the cape and took off the mask, revelaing her pale face with green eyes and wavy chestnut hair in a bob.

"You called for me, Kayo." The priestess said.
"Have a seat, Ma'ana, I wanted to see you."

Kayo and Ma'ana ─ for others, High Priestess Ma'ansari Idangaban ─ settled down. Marshal had another glass of burukutu. The priestess refused.

For a moment, silence emerged in the cabinet. Outside of the cabinet, jungles of Erinle whispered their usual talk. In dozens of miles in either direction the Marshal's villa was the only structure around, and the two women in the cabinet were alone.

"I am to participate in celebrations of this... "Diamond Jubilee" of the Empress of Mesogeia." Kayo finally said, reading from the paper. Seeing Ma'ana looking at her confused, she handed it to her. "An order from the Temple, signed by my father and handed to me by Him personally."
"You got it from High Eminence himself?"

"Four hours ago. He didn't look like he would be accepting any excuses. I must pick someone to accompany me, then report tomorrow to the Outland Affairs." Leaning forward, Kayo added, "And I want you by my side there, Ma'ana."

The priestess carefully read the document. She couldn't doubt the authenticity, that would be doubting both her Marshal and the Sun Manifested. Hieroglyphs on it were handwritten by a careful hand, forming sentences of ornate wording. Ma'ana put the paper back on the desk, then her eyes met Marshal's and that was enough.

"So, what is this Jubilee?" The priestess finally asked.
"Something like a Longevity Ceremony, Belisarian-style." Kayo picked the order again. "Only they are celebrating the years passed, of which there have been sixty."
"And they are inviting ambassadors of sort for that?"
"Something tells me it isn't about ambassadors." Marshal shook her head. "It's what father calls "Royalist Hangout", meaning there will be all the royalty around."

"So, all the people who marry their first cousins, who also happen to be their sisters, to produce imbecile heirs for their decrepit countries?"
"...if you say so."
"What do we have to deal with that? What do we even know about Mesogeia?"

"A Belisarian monarchy." Kayo produced a thin folder, marked "Outland Affairs", and gave it to the other. "Meaning, closely tied to like 3/4 of Belisaria. And Onekawa. And Charnea."
"And you told me once we don't care about Belisaria, did you?"
"Don't know where you got that from. I said that we have special missions in Velikoslavia and Rukahario and that I don't know about the rest."

Ma'ana flipped a couple of pages in the folder. The jungles kept whispering their words, but they were of no help to the Marshal and the priestess.

"And yet High Eminence sent no one from the Outland Affairs."

Kayo went on to get more burukutu. Again, Ma'ana refused.

"What are we even supposed to do here? Admire Mesogeian pomposity?"

Both started studying the program of their event. Ceremonies. Religious services. Balls. Military parades. Addresses. Assemblies.

"I hope Mutulese or Velikoslavians turn up." Kayo said. "You may stick to me, and maybe we can negotiate something with them."
"You just want more bombers to your governorate, don't you? Is Envoy not enough?"
"I just want to make use of this time, Ma'ana. And good that you mentioned the Envoy, because one can't be enough for me."

And then Ma'ana asked the question both would rather not ask.
"Kayo, and what will they be speaking?"

Marshal tilted her head, perhaps being slightly slow from burukutu. "What do you mean?"
"What language will they be speaking on all these events?"

Even the endless jungles of Erinle felt quiet didn't dare to interrupt the silence that emerged. The question itself was a blow and the answer they both knew was twice as much of a blow.

"...I hope they will at least understand Regulingvo─"
"Perish the thought, Ma'ana."

The two then tried conversations in various languages they knew. For both, Mutli was good and Velikoslavian was decent, but Latin was barely passable and, crucially, none of them knew a word in Alcaean.

"We are hopeless, aren't we?"
"We are hopeless."

The Sun Manifested was about to throw them to the wolves.

"So what is our plan, Kayo?"
"Let's finish the paperwork first. Then, I'd like a nap."
"And then?"

The Marshal looked at the priestess and in her look, she found her answer. They were sent to the wolves' den with no clear goal and for no clear reason — meaning, the Sun Manifested couldn't care less about it.

Kayo had no plan. Nor did she have an option to cop out. Ma'ana could just accompany her in the den.

[Awasin]

Within the Mangana Palace Gardens

Where the delegation found themselves, after what felt like days of transit, was a corner of the gardens. No, not a corner. Not quite. It was somewhere between the actual northeast corner and the middle of the eastern wall, a pleasant enough section with two long benches facing each other amidst the floral arrangements. Perfect, or so the trio felt, for a short conversation ahead of the tiring pleasantries.

Machk was the most seasoned of the lot, and for good reason; he had been okina for more years than any of his predecessors and weathered what often seemed like a new crisis every other week. The way he reclined with partially spread legs spoke to too many years spent in tight chairs, as it seemed he was thankful for the space. He was a dark and well-built man in his late fifties or early sixties-- few seemed to know for sure-- and he had the sort of face that could have been an actor's in another life bereft of the unfortunate realities of politics. His grey suit was done in a smart modern style, at least in cut, but its threading and beadwork were thoroughly Awasi. Faintly visible in nearly seamless beading along the bottom of the jacket were a series of horses in full gallop, blending in whenever the light did not cooperate. His hair was still black, trending towards a deep brown, though spots of grey showed through.

Ayasha sat primly across from him, hands folded neatly in her lap. On her index finger was a wolf's-head cameo ring worked from an old piece of bison horn. She was nineteen, stuck in that peculiar rut between childhood and adulthood, but nevertheless there was no denying that like all the royal children she was quite beautiful. Her skin was a shade lighter than Machk's, complimenting well the twin braids of her coal-black hair that ran down past her hips when she stood. Interwoven in the strands were bright beads of red and yellow beads with copper every now and again. Her dress, a fine and revealing construction of well-worked deerskin dyed maroon, made her both a subject of attention and a perfectly indistinct figure in the background, depending on the circumstance. Its fringes were trimmed faintly in silver thread.

Rounding out the group was Sehesi, who did not seem uncomfortable but was certainly the most alert. Men on the street had once disparagingly referred to her as an ox, but if anything it had been taken in stride, for her musculature was anything but unnoticeable. Her eyes, like the rest of her face, were rather arresting; there was an agelessness about her that made it difficult to say whether she was twenty-five, thirty-five, forty-five or all three at once. She had brilliant hair that fell just to her shoulders, in its entirety a shade in-between white and grey, which was for the first time in ages uncovered by her characteristic raven-black wide-brimmed hat. Across her shoulders was a short cloak of crow feathers, covering a masterfully tailored onyx-colored suit that held no beadwork save for two small sigils of the Wolf and Crow clans over her left breast. Beneath the jacket in a left side shoulder holster was a custom Ksiak N7 pistol in 9x19mm with an extended fifteen-round magazine, approximately thirty-two ounces in total. On her right side were two spare magazines.

Ayasha spoke, her tone sweet and measured. "Is there anything we'd like to go over?"

Both Sehesi and Machk gave her a look neither entirely supportive nor disagreeable. There had been plenty of 'going over' on their way from the airport to the city, the city to the palace, and so forth; to say that either would gladly entertain another rehashing of the same security protocols was nearly the same as saying that the Mesogeians would enjoy seeing their empress doused in acid. It would be interesting and unexpected, that much was the truth, but not very likely to result in any favorable outcome. Ever the diplomat, Machk responded first. "Unless you're interested in hearing the speech again, I wouldn't say so."

"Point taken," Ayasha said, moving her hands in a way that seemed to say 'fair enough.' "I won't ask you to torture yourself like that."

"It wouldn't be torture. Not for me, at least, poka. I've been rehearsing words written by idiots for the better part of forty years. You're lucky to get a speech that was written by someone competent."

"You wrote it," murmured Sehesi.

Machk nodded. "Did I stutter? If you want something to talk about, I'll see what I can do later, but for now... maak'tska! The gardens will do. Have you thought about what sort of money this family must pull in to support grounds like this? Oh, they can argue about public funds, sure, but you don't get this kind of opulence in every run-of-the-mill palatial quarter, no. I don't remember Ghant looking like this, that's for sure. The water bill alone! Apis'too'ki!"

Sehesi's eyes narrowed, gaze drifting to a selection of gladioluses along the garden wall. "They're imperials."

"You mean that they're going to be rich?" Ayasha said.

"This is more than rich," the woman replied, with such a note of disdain in her voice that the conversation ceased for a moment. She did not hate the Mesogeians and their royalty for wealth any more than she hated her own people for it, but there was a certain something about Belisaria that did all but give her hives. No doubt much of it was how differently her home continent and nation treated its divisions; though the Palace of the Wolf was grand compared to most of that which they had erected up to its creation, one section of the Mesogeian imperial complex alone might have held it thrice over, with jewels and precious metals more concentrated in one side room than half of Awasin itself. People, somewhere, were no doubt all but starving, and here they were playing diplomat for those who'd never broken a single horse out of thousands they'd owned in their lifetimes.

A hand on Sehesi's arm broke her out of her reverie. Ayasha was looking at her, eyes wide and concerned.

"Sorry," said Sehesi.

"Nothing to be sorry for. Can't say I disagree with what you said. Ah, implied," Machk said, across from them.

"We'll be fine, hey?" said Ayasha, her tone so earnest and comforting that it seemed utterly indisputable. "So they're too darn rich. Big deal. We have a few drinks, impress a nice old lady, give her a saddle and go home after a bunch of partying. Nothing to it, naamoi."

"Less than nothing," Machk affirmed.

"Right."

"Right," echoed Sehesi, saying nothing more. Silence fell over them once again. It was more companionable, this time, less influenced by thoughts that she wished she could excise from her head in such company, but nevertheless she found it slightly embarrassing that this marked twice in one exchange her friends and colleagues had been rendered almost mute from her cynicism or stoniness.

Machk stood suddenly, dusting off his suit. He ran a hand through his hair with the sort of practiced air that came only to those who'd spent their lives making even the most natural of actions an affected and perfectly maintained facade, casting a glance towards the princess and her bodyguard before focusing on some point across the garden. The okina did not seem concerned so much as merely interested, and he made a move to head forward before thinking better of it. "About time to go."

Ayasha smiled and rose in turn. "Gotcha." When Sehesi did not move, the princess grabbed her arm once more and all but hauled the larger woman up, brushing something invisible off of her cloak as she did so. She had a way of inserting herself into Sehesi's presence, a trait she had enjoyed realizing since the protection detail had first been assigned, though no doubt a good portion of it was due to their size difference. The brush turned into a half-embrace, which itself turned into a hug, and before Sehesi could pull away Ayasha raised herself on the tips of her toes to press a light kiss to the woman's cheek. It was not entirely romantic, but neither was it wholly friendly. "Come on, cowgirl," she whispered, "let's knock 'em down."

"Let's," Sehesi said.

The delegation walked across the garden, and things were alright.

[Mesogeia]

Tzykanion Leoforos in route to the Hagia Triada Cathedral, Alexandropolis,

At precisely eight o’clock in the morning the citizens of Alexandropolis were awakened by the thundering of triumphant cannon fire coming from the Imperial Fortress of the Akropolis in the old city, and the various imperial parks scattered around the capital such as Gulkhana, Nymphaion, Kynegion, Chalke, Sykai and at palace gardens at Zoödochos-Pege.

A further twenty rounds were fired in addition to the normal 21-gun salute to mark the momentous occasion and due in part to the salute being given at an imperial site of which the Akropolis and and the imperial parks and gardens were technically apart.

Keeping with the nature of the momentous occasion the Mesazon and his government in connection with the Imperial State Council had issued an imperial proclamation decreeing that the week of the festivities would be a semi national holiday ordering that all businesses establishments were to close early by midday, while all establishments such as restaurants, taverns, serving Alpha grade products were to remain open.
While the morning of the event was characterized by a chilly breeze hundreds of thousands of people had gathered on the streets of the capital the night before to witness the Imperial cortege as it passed by on its way to the Imperial Cathedral of the Holy Trinity, Hagia Triada.
The night before, the Empress had invited the members of the extended imperial family to spend the night at her private residence at Mangana following the evening garden party that had been held there.

While the members of the Imperial family and their close attendants who had been invited to Mangana Palace prepared themselves for the Te Deum that was to be held at Hagia Triada prayers were being offered in the Empress’ name in religious sites throughout the nation.
By the time it had reached nine thirty in the morning, thousands of invited guests had arrived at the Cathedral of Hagia Triada; of these guests were included representatives of the national government, the military, the nobility, the southern leagues, and the northern kingdoms, the crème de la crème of Mesogeian society had arrived, all of them dressed for the most joyous of occasions.

In addition to the nation’s high society, all the members of the resident diplomatic corps, foreign princes and honored guests, had begun arriving in great numbers.

By eleven o’clock in the morning the members of the imperial family began arriving at the cathedral in order of rank, with each successive member being higher up in the line of succession. First came the princes of the blood imperial, Their Imperial Highnesses the Dukes of Chousa and Aspadana, Grand Princes by birth and the Empress’ first cousins, along with their respective spouses.

Followed by Their Exalted Highnesses the Dukes of Sistan, Aegai, Farsargadae, the senior princes of the blood imperial with their respective spouses; the heads of cadet branches dating back to well over two hundred and fifty years ago.

After them came their Imperial Highnesses the Duke of Charax, the Duke and Duchess of Hebdomon, followed by the Duke and Duchess of Chalcedon. Accompanying their Imperial Highnesses the Duke and Duchess of Chalcedon was Her Exhalted Highness the Dowager Princess of Opsikion, the widow of the late and now infamous Prince of Opsikion, the elderly lady had not been seen in public for many years.

While the men of the imperial family had opted to wear the uniform of various imperial guards regiments, the Grand Princesses had all donned the characteristic ladies day court dress, a long white gown of flaring sleeves, with tiaras made to resemble the Propoloma headdress with its flowing veil attached to the back. In addition to this the Grand Princesses who had reached the age of twenty-one had been granted the right to wear the Sash and badge of the Order of the Zoste, that is the order of the Girded Ladies as well as a gold tablia with the Empress’ likeness embroidered onto the side.

While normally red Bakhtyar automobiles from the Imperial Stables would have transported them to the cathedral, the importance of the occasion necessitated the use of the fleet of court coaches, with each coach being pulled by a team of horses that was led by court equerries who were assisted by imperial footman and valets bearing ceremonial whips and batons, who in medieval times had been responsible for maintaining strict qoroq when the ladies of the imperial harem journeyed from the palace walls to participate in public events.

By the time it had reached eleven thirty in the morning, the steps of the Cathedral of Hagia Triada were filled with hundreds of persons, religious figures, fervent royalists and all other persons who had been granted the honor of greeting the sovereign, each of them bearing crosses, religious icons, miniature replicas of the Empress, and unfurled banners and flags of either the Mesogeian tricolor of gold, white, and crimson alongside the colors of the dynasty red and green.

Meanwhile at the Mangana Palace, Her Imperial Majesty The Empress, Their Imperial Highnesses the Despot and Despotissa were dressing for the occasion. The Empress donned the crimson uniform of the Imperial Hetairoi Guards Regiment which had been altered into a gown for the Empress; this was complemented by a sash of the Most Sublime Order of the Radiant Sun with its badge encircled with diamonds and pearls, alongside which the empress wore the Stars of the Order of the Khvarenah and the Order of the Lion and Sun pinned to her breast. In her hair the Empress wore the Laurel leaf tiara, a tiara of diamonds and emeralds that was designed to look like a crown of laurels that came from the Imperial Trust, the private collection of the imperial house which held in trust, properties, jewels, and personal family heirlooms for use by members of the Imperial family.

While the Despot donned the dark ivy green uniform of the Imperial Athanatoi Guards while his wife the Despotissa looked radiant in a white court dress decorated with simurghs and other fantastica birds, a diamond pearl tiara, with the sash and badge of the Imperial Order of the Zoste, on her right shoulder suspended from a ribbon was the miniature portrait of her mother-in-law encircled in diamonds and pearls.

Finally at twelve o’clock the Empress, her son and daughter-in-law left the Mangana Palace for the Hagia Triada Cathedral to attend the service of Thanksgiving that had been organized there in honor of the Empress’ sixty years on the throne.

The gates to Mangana Palace were thrown open and out rode the Imperial Cortege onto the tree lined Tzykanion Leoforos, a avenue so named for the fact that it had been built on the site of the old imperial Chovgan grounds some two centuries ago during a period of rebuilding in the imperial capital.

Presently it served a wide range of functions not least of which were grand imperial parades, in addition to being the site of a significant concentration of wealth and power with numerous nouveau riche shipping families having built lavish townhouses there staring in the early to mid nineteenth century; the old guard aristocrats having long since abandoned the wealthy neighborhoods in the heart of the city around the old neighborhoods of Mangana, Arcadianae, and Tykanisterion following the influx of new money instead moving in great droves to the more quite and exclusive neighborhoods of Hormisdou, Amantiou to the south of the Great Palace Complex where the imperial museums and great galleries of arts stood, or to the tree lined walled off wealthy neighborhoods of Phanarion or Kosmidion both near Gulkhana (where the Empress' favored seasonal residence near the capital was situated) or the wooded estates of Philopation, or Pege (which was falling out of favor due to the Imperial amusement park being erected there) each in the vicinity of an imperial palace that had been built outside of the city limits at a time when the capital was much smaller.

While some built their "town houses" in the vicinity of the Exokionion or Psamathia, within a short distance the site of the Imperial Parade Grounds an immense field under the shadow of the Imperial Stables that once housed thousands of horses on the ready for war. That is not to say that some old ducal and princely families did not still keep largely unoccupied townhouses between the Great Sacred Palace and the Mangana Palace, that came alive during the annual social season each year.

The departure of the Imperial Cortege was announced by the Trumpeters of Her Imperial Majesty’s Agents of the Stirrup, colorfully dressed outriders tasked with riding out ahead of an imperial procession to alert the people of the coming of the sovereign.
The procession was led by Her Imperial Majesty’s Own Escort, which consisted of a mounted detachment of the Imperial Qezelbāš Guards dressed in their richly ornate red and green Ochranic robes with their matching high pointed red tasseled helmets After them came a squadron of the Tyfekophoroi and Tofangchi Guards, Her Majesty’s Imperial Musketeers on foot.

After them came Empress Elena, her son His Imperial Highness Despot Constantine, Her Imperial Highness Despotissa Sophia, and Her Imperial Highness Grand Princess Adalinda, the new wife of Grand Prince Michael in an open barouche decorated with gold leaf with the miniature image of the Greater Imperial coat of Arms decorating either side of it. On either side of the barouche rode two of Her Majesty’s aides de camp dressed in the uniform of the Stewards of the Camp.

After them came a closed crimson court coach bearing Her Imperial Highness Dowager Consort Theophano Banu, which was followed by an open imperial landau bearing the still unmarried daughters of the Despot and Despotissa, Their Imperial Highnesses the Grand Princesses Elena, Anna, Zoe, and Maria Isabella all dressed in white court dresses with diamond pearl tiaras. Placed conspicuously behind the open landau of the Grand Princesses on a platform were the four chamber eunuchs of their imperial highnesses……..huge hulking six foot tall beasts charged with guarding imperial persons for their entire life.

After them rode the sons of the Despot and Despotissa, Their Imperial Highnesses the Grand Princes Michael, Alexander, Constantine the younger, and Manuel the younger rode behind them on horseback; the handsome young men having donned the emerald green silver laced uniform of the Imperial Kataphraktoi Guards.

Closing out the imperial procession were several plain crimson Bakhtyar automobiles bearing the Empress’ ladies in waiting and other lesser attendants.

The wide tree lined Tzykanion Leoforos was decorated with Mesogeian flags and banners all along the route between the Mangana Palace and the Cathedral of Hagia Triada, people cheering and waving as the Empress and Imperial family passed by. The sounds of hurrahs, and the playing of the imperial anthem “God’s Grace Aids the Empress!”, alongside the endless ringing of church bells could be heard throughout the capital.

Placed between the crowds of people eager to get a glimpse of the Empress and the imperial cavalcade were three ranks of cadets from the Imperial military academy on either side of the street, all of them rendering the customary military salute for the Imperial Family.

Finally at precisely twelve fifteen in the afternoon, the imperial procession arrived at the entrance to the Cathedral of the Hagia Triada.

The Empress was greeted on the steps of the Cathedral by His Beatitude Matthaios IX, the Patriarch-Catholicos of the Mesogeian Apostolic Church, and the senior Metropolitan Bishops of the empire, Archbishop Kyrillos of Parisia, Archbishop Anthimos of Pharopoli, Archbishop Niketas of Chrysopolis, Archbishop Theodosios of Anaitis, and Archbishop Anastasius of Aspadana.

The Archbishops each kissed the Empress’ hand before the Patriarch held a gold encrusted bible in front of the Empress who kissed it before turning to enter the cathedral. The whole church rose up as the Imperial trumpeters rang out their horns to announce the imperial arrival.

When the Empress reached the Dais that had been sat up directly to the right of the golden cupola that housed the church’s most sacred chamber, she was greeted by her son his Imperial Highness the Duke of Chalcedon who bowed before he conducted Her Imperial Majesty to the waiting throne placed in front of the imperial box.

The Empress and the remaining members of the imperial family took their place on the right side of the golden cupola directly in front of the imperial family’s most sacred icon of the Panagia Klaigontas, “Our Lady of Weeping”, the blessed icon of the Virgin Mary that was so named because many people had believed to see it weeping tears that were said to protect the members of the dynasty and heal the diseased and inflicted.

At twelve twenty in the afternoon the religious service began with a liturgy, followed by lengthy sermons on the divine origin of kingship and the nature of righteous kings and queens. The veneration of various icons that held special meaning to the imperial dynasty and so on. The smell of honey and incense filled the great chamber of the Cathedral.

In all the church service lasted a total of three hours. As the service began to wrap up the five Archbishops and the Patriarch went to the corners of the cathedral where they by tradition began chanting “Many Years to the Sovereign and Imperial Family” as they sprinkled holy water and made the sign of the cross.

First they chanted the name of Elena II, Empress and Autocrat of Mesogeia, followed by the names of the Despot and the Despotissa, the senior members of the Imperial family, including the Dowager Consort Theophano whose position deemed her worthy of prayers by the religious establishment. Praying for blessings and long life for them all.

While the lesser priests in attendance brought forth the various icons that had been brought from various churches, monasteries and religious sites for the occasion for the Empress to kiss and be prayed over, the cannons and artillery atop of the Imperial Akropolis a few miles away fired a 41-gun salute to mark the occasion.

When the Imperial Family finally left the Cathedral it was nearly three forty in the afternoon, and by that time the crowds lining the short route between the cathedral and the Imperial Great Sacred Palace had nearly doubled in size. Many took note that while the Empress had rode in an open barouche for the service of thanksgiving at the Cathedral of Hagia Triada she now made the short journey from the cathedral to the Great Sacred Palace in the Golden State Coach.

The rumors swirling that the Empress herself had requested that the Golden State Coach only be used at the end of the ceremony as it was too uncomfortable to make the mile long ride down the Tzykanion Leoforos from the Mangana Palace to the great Cathedral of Hagia Triada.

Such an assumption of it being uncomfortable could very well be believed as the Golden State Coach, was almost ancient having dated back to the late seventeenth century during the reign of Emperor Constantine XV who had it constructed to mark his Golden Jubilee. Now well over three hundred years old the large heavy coach decorated with jewels and gold leaf and symbols of roaring lions and other symbols of imperial majesty appeared almost out of place as the seas of change swept over Mesogeia.

The Golden State Coach in its time had seen no less than twelve monarchs to their coronations at the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Pantheon in Parisia. Now currently the Golden State Coach was only used for the most momentous of occasions, such as imperial coronations, jubilees, and things of that nature. Instead of going back to the Mangana Palace the imperial procession turned southward towards the Basileon Square and the Great Sacred Palace, where the highest echelons of Mesogeian society would gather to render the traditional homage to the Empress in the ancient halls of the old palace.

When the Empress arrived at the old palace she immediately went to the old imperial apartments of the Mouchroutas Palace where the secret passageway connected the great palace complex to the Kathisma, the imperial box of the Hippodrome, so that she might show herself to her people.

She was joined on the balcony of the Kathisma by the rest of the imperial family who waved enthusiastically to the crowds of people who had gathered there to see the empress and the other members of the dynasty.

Meanwhile Imperial heralds went to all the great squares of the capital to read an imperial proclamation that granted amnesty to those persons jailed for lesser offenses, forgave debt burdened pursons, and even reduced or forgave the sentences of some persons who had been deemed worthy of such clemency.
The Imperial Proclamation read:
Her Imperial Majesty Elena II Chalkidina-Megabagiarida Troadina-Herekleidina, By the Grace of God, Faithful in Christ, Empress and Autocrat of Mesogeia, Shahanshah of all the Azagartians, of Aerion and Anaerion, the Most Faithful Apostolic Majesty, the Most Pious and Blessed Padishah of the three cities, the Great Bagiar, Basileus of the North and the South; Haqan of the Two Lands, and the two Seas, Ruler of the Four Quarters, Basileus of the Troianians and the Anatolians, Lion of the East, the Celestial One, God’s Vicegerent on Earth, Champion of the Messiah, Refuge of the universe, Lady of the Auspicious Conjunction, Master of all the hither and the thither up to the Sun and Moon, Nest of Paradise, Equal to the Apostles, Protector and Defender of the holy sites and sacred fires, Kyria Strategos of the twelve kingdoms, Queen of Mygdonia, Queen of Bithynia, Grand Princess of Epeiros, Duchess of Tesalia, Hegemon of cities, Lady of the Tauric Isles, and so forth, and so forth, and so forth, does hereby issue imperial clemency to all persons of favorable note, currently being held in prison or jail, or those persons that have been burdened by heavy debt that have shown themselves to be dutiful subjects of her most gracious majesty. That is persons who have requested appeals to her majesty from lesser courts and have been found to have been worthy of imperial clemency. Upon issue of this proclamation all persons falling under its protection may not be recharged for the same crime, as this document frees them from the above proscribed wrongdoings, with the exemption of those charged with high treason or serious and most heinous acts who in turn do commit similar offense.This proclamation is to take effect upon issue.
God’s Grace aids the Empress!

After a half hour or so of receiving the acclamations of the people the imperial family retired back to the Great Palace complex to prepare for the Reception of Congratulations from the high ranking members of the imperial government.
*********
Megali Aithousa, Boukoleon Palace, Great Sacred Palace Complex, Alexandropolis
At exactly five o’clock in the evening the Empress, and extended members of the Imperial Family gathered in the Hall of Eagles, the antechamber of the private apartments of the Imperial family in the Boukoleon Palace. The hall of eagles served as both a living room for the imperial family and as a waiting room for those wishing to see the monarch in private, although the empress seldom lived in the Great Sacred Palace preferring to live at Mangana except when great occasions demand her attention at the palace of her ancestors.

The room was decorated with mosaics, tapestries, and paintings of eagles, hawks, alongside such fantastical creatures as the shahrokh, the shahbaz and the Chamrosh, all of them birds of prey in their own right.

The Empress dressed for the evening in a dark red Skaramangia, over which she wore a purple saigon cloak with the edges trimmed with gold embroidery. While the Skaramangia was typical evening wear for men at court, the Empress would very often have male court uniform repurposed as female gowns to signify her sovereignty as Empress regnant, something her ancestor Empress Theodora III was noted for doing as well rather then wearing the typical court dress of ladies. Completing her outfit the Empress wore a diamond tiara from the Imperial Trust with a necklace of pearls and diamonds.

At precisely five fifteen in the evening the silver doors of the Hall of Eagles were opened by two large Ghulmans, upon which the Empress leading a procession of members of the Imperial Family made their grand entrance into the Mousai Hall, “the Hall of Muses” the first chamber of the grand state rooms of the Boukoleon Palace to receive first the congratulations of the Great Offices of the Empire the Chief Officers of the Imperial Court, and the subordinate King.

They were greeted by the Megas Chilliarch who was head of the Imperial Chancellery; the Megas Stratelates and the Sipahsalar who headed the military forces in the south and north respectively; the Divanbegi who served as ceremonial head of the Empire’s Justice system; the Darigansalar and the Mega Prokoitos who headed the imperial courts in the north and south as respective Grand Masters; the Wuzurg Framadar the ceremonial head of the upper houses of the Synedrion; the Megas Grammateus and the Grand Wazir who were Chief ministers in the south and north and subordinates to the Mesazon the Empress’ senior most Chief Minister; the Megas Proedros the president of the various collective councils making up the Imperial Council of State; the Megas Dioiketes who was head of the Imperial Treasury boards a collection of treasuries making up the central finance ministry; the Megas Oikonomos who oversaw the Imperial Domain and Crownlands; the Beglerbegi who functioned as the Grand Marshal of ceremonies and head of the courts responsible for overseeing imperial heraldry and matters related to honor, and titles of nobility; and finally the Aswaransalar, and the Megas Konostaulos who historically oversaw the empire’s cavalry forces in their respective regions north and south but had now since been reduced to largely ceremonial function aide from matters related to the Imperial transport and the Imperial Stables Office which has since added to automobiles to its fleet of vehicles.

The Great Officers were followed by the Chief Officers of the Court: which included the Megas Katastaseos and the Isik Aqasi Bashi as Chiefs of protocol and Marshals of court ceremonies; followed by the Protovestiarios and the Nazir e-Kalwat heads of Her Majesty’s respective households in the south and north; the Archideatros and the Khvaqnsalar who were respectively the Chief Steward and Chief Caterer of the courts; the Archithyoros and the Khwaja Bashi who were respectively Chief Doorkeeper and Chief Concierge of the courts now with the added responsibility of overseeing the palace servants and handling legal matters related to the imperial family; and the Megas Tzaousios and Megas Stratopedarches who functioned as a kind of Chief of Staff for Empress in their respective regions assisting her as heads of the Imperial Retinue that oversees the Imperial Escort and the Imperial Guards, in addition to such other offices as those related to the Imperial Camp, Imperial Hunting and Forestry Office, and the honorary Agents of the Stirrup.

Also amongst the number of Great Officers of the Empire and Chief Officers of the Court were the ten subordinate Kings of the realm: King Baydad Orontidis of Ardistan; King Archelaus Ariarathidis of Kappadokia; the King Antiochus Seleukidis of Isauris and Co-Warden of the Interior; King Demetrius Antigonidis of Turchia and Co-Warden of the Interior; King Agathocles Magonidis-Lysimachidis of Vantagallia and Warden of the West; King Ptolemy Lagidais of Pharosia and Warden of the South; King Narseh Pharnavazis of Iberion; King Artaxerxes Sassan of Farsia and Co-Warden of the East; Queen Cleopatra Mithridatidia of Paralia; King Theodore-Heliokles Traxianaos-Euthydemidis-Voreistanids of Transigozania and Warden of the North; King Farhad Arsacides of Aparnia and Co Warden of the East; and finally the King Aristobulus Foínikas of Phocaea, who was both hereditary Warden of the Ports and Elena’s own nephew-in law.

After this was done the Empress and the senior members of the Imperial family passed into the Megali Aithousa, the great hall of the Boukoleon Palace, was huge but only lightly decorated with its tall glass windows staring out onto the sea, lofty Alcaenian columns pretending to support its massive ceiling, exquisite stonework with the faces of past emperors etched into the side all around the room until they finished with a unfinished stone etching of what would presumably be the Empress one day. Elena didn’t see the point in finishing the vast hall when furniture could be better used elsewhere, especially considering the palace was only truly inhabited during the social season, and even then the Empress would retire back to the Mangana once the ball or banquet had concluded.

The centerpiece of the room was a huge colossal equestrian portrait of the Empress’ great great grandfather Emperor Michael XIV, earning the hall the nickname the Michael Hall in some circles; under which was erected a dais with one throne for the empress and various armless chairs for members of the Imperial Family. Once the Empress had been seated those high government officials wishing to pay their respects came in by the hundreds one after the other in a seemingly endless procession of the creme de la creme of Mesogeian society.

In total when it was said in done close to 5,000 people had come that day, members of the Gerousia, the Magistan, the Chamber of Poleis and the Chora Assembly, members of the Council of State, in addition to the heads and subheads of various government ministries and agencies who found themselves amongst military heads, the ten marshals of the nobility representing the nobility and representatives of the historic merchant and business community especially the dominant shipping, marine and agricultural related industries.

As was customary each male guest would kiss the Empress on the hand before they presented her with a gift of some kind; after which many performed the traditional proskynesis as a form of reverence to her Imperial Majesty; ladies instead making a deep curtesy

All except the gift giving and proskynesis were repeated with the Despot the Despotissa, and the other members of the Imperial Family; although the male members of the dynasty opted for a handshake.

While such a lengthy event would have made any other person heavily exhausted, the Empress wore a brave face throughout the ceremony, never one to deny the people a chance to get close to their sovereign.

[Kaojiang]

7.11.22
Mangana Palace Gardens
Alexandropolis, Mesogeia

The muffled roar of the Kaojiangan monarchs' limousine engine came to a steady decline, twin-turbo V12 jostling about as the car's idling bonnet halted and the delegation of security departed, rounded the car, and opened the gull-wing doors, giving way to three more units, who formed two columns either side of the doors, their choreography showing an extent of professional rehearsal. Next to the driver, Zemin Huo, a High Imperial Court minister departed with a scroll of crushed green velvet. The man rounded the car and gave a small bow in front of the closed doors, placing a side of the scroll gently down before picking it up behind him and slowly walking forward, the brilliant fabric unfolding to the entryway of the gardens, where he then stood and gave another bow.

The first royal to emerge was Goŋzhu^† Kao Mi Xoŋ, the youngest present. The young woman was clad in beautiful silk robes with a brilliant blue hue, the iconography of golden suns trailing all around the ornate fabric. Her hair bunched in two, and held in an ornate headdress with a small golden character in the centre. Clutching at a small ceramic blue vial, the Goŋzhu removed its lid and gently sprinkled the some of its contents along the verdant pathway. Coming to a halt next to the minister who once more bowed, Mi Xoŋ gently screwed the lid back onto the vial and holstered it to her robes once more, removing an ornate matching fan and holding it between her hands.

Mi Xoŋ was shortly followed by her older brother, Major General Waŋzi Kao Li Suaŋ, who's departure from the limousine was met by a stomp and salute from the six Imperial Carabinieri and a deep bow from the minister and princess. His robes were silken much like the princess', but instead shone a bright yellow, contrasted with a deep blue. They seemed to tell a story, tapestried garments both, although his more so. The prince had a soft and pale face much like his sister, with round features and a prominent jawline. The only binoclard member of the retinue, the waŋzi wore round-frame glasses and a tall, round-topped, brimless hat which in some ways resembled an officer's cap. He walked along the salt path before taking the position on the carpet opposite Zemin Huo, who along with Mi Xoŋ, gave him another deep bow.

The third royal to exit the limousine marked the trifecta of Emperor's grandchildren, none other than Honour-Marshal Gongzhu Kao Che Hnuŋ. Her excellency was clad much like her younger sister, with a slightly more opulent headdress and green silk robe. Che's garments told a story of swirling, snaking wingless beasts, traversing across Imperial fabric in a whirlwhind, slender beasts never tangling. She briefly glanced at her siblings; head held high as the Carabinieri saluted her much like the prince. Clutching a fan, she comes to stand next to Li Suaŋ, greeted by bows once more. Che Hnuŋ wore a more serious expression than her younger siblings, carrying herself almost with an air of superiority, one that exceeded the situation.

While the prince and princesses were introduced by the High Minister solely in Kaojiangan, the final departee was first introduced in Kaojiangan, before being then introduced in slightly broken] Alcaenian:
"His Imperial Excellency General Waŋ Kao Cuang Tseŋ, Waŋ of Eastern Kaojiang, Heir Apparent to the Divine Imperial Throne, and General of The Imperial Kaojiangan Armed Forces."

The doors to the limousine buffeted slightly as the greying king disembarked, the back of his rectangular headwear nearly clipping the doors, something that with how deliberate Kao Cuang Tseŋ was, it would have been hard to tell he noticed. As the man came to his feet, the military security complement once more stomped and saluted, this time each letting out a war-cry. Nodding to them in acknowledgement, the Waŋ walked on, coming to a halt in the middle of where his children stood either side. The esteemed nobles came to a kneel and touched the carpet with their foreheads four times, once to honour each of them present, and once to honour their father. As the delegation came to their feet once, the king gave a deep bow in return.

The king wore a deep yellow silk robe, with depictions of royal imperial spires and buildings across it and majestic birds flying over them. Across his back lay a large, holstered blade with a flat tip and mean angle, with a wrapped handle matching the robes. On his head he wore a conical hat which terminated in a horizontal rectangle, dangling beads of various colours. A long, well-grown goatee clung to his chin, and the corners of his lips were upturned, reserved gaze concealing intrigue as the monarch peers around the garden gates.

As the royalty and the minster enter, the security forces follow behind, driver rolling up the carpet and parking.

† Goŋzhu, Waŋzi, and Waŋ are Pia-Dien Kaojiangan terms for Princess, Prince, and King respectively. As they are used within, the monarchy of Kaojiang also request they be used without, preferring butchered pronunciation to the alternative. The English terms may be used throughout narration, but they should always be addressed by their Kaojiangan ranks or as detailed in the RSVP.

[Tarsas]

Alexandropolis, Mesogeia
November 4, 2022

The warmth of the November sun trickled into the large bank of French style windows that took up almost entirely one wall of the large room in the Mangana Imperial Palace. Feodor slowly opened his eyes as he groggily regained consciousness. His sleep-addled brain swore that those had been closed when he arrived in the room last night. He slowly opened his eyes, allowing them to get used to the light intrusion. The door to the room slowly opened and his steward, Konrad, quietly stepped into the room. “Master Feodor, are you awake?”

“I am, Konrad. What time is it?” he groggily replied.

“It’s eight in the morning. We must begin preparations for the first day of festivities.”

Feodor groaned and heaved himself up, the duvet falling off of his bare shoulders. He stared at the offending windows in annoyance as the sunlight hit his blue-grey eyes, switching to Old Telerian. “Were these not closed when I came in here last night?”

Konrad turned from the preparations he was making laying out clothing for the day. “One of those servants came in here before I was even awake, set out breakfast, and opened the windows before I even arrived in the room.”

“Is that the same one that tried to plug in my phone for me when I first got here?”, Feodor asked with a roll of his eyes as he climbed out of bed and made his way to the dressing salon. Konrad followed him in and began to organize his clothing. A steward was a noble’s most trusted and closest servant and most stewards held their positions for life. Konrad had seen Feodor’s unclothed form more times than either of them could count and vice versa, especially since Feodor didn’t wear anything to bed. Stewards were often appointed when both the lord and the steward were of young age. Konrad had been appointed by Feodor’s older brother when both boys were nine years of age and they had rapidly bonded. Now at eighteen, Konrad was his most trusted friend and they both knew everything about each other.

Konrad snickered as he held up the first garment for Feodor to put on. “Mesogeian staff are definitely overbearing. I can see why Her Majesty, the Tsarina, felt stifled here. However, you certainly can’t deny they are excellent at what they do.”

Feodor held up his arms as Konrd slipped the white, silk undershirt over his arms and began to fasten the buttons. “That’s a fair assessment. They are proficient at their jobs.” He shifted subjects as Konrad began to tuck the shirt into his dress pants. “Am I to really wear Velikoslavian court dress for an entire day? These jackets are simply stifling.”

“My apologies, but His Majesty selected the dress code and ordered these from the Orzhov House specifically for this event. You’re lucky they had your dimensions on file or else we’d have had to attend a fitting session.” Konrad began to fasten the golden buttons on the military style dress jacket.

“That is good, I don’t particularly want to subject myself to Count Orzhov’s groping hands with any regularity. Make sure he always has my measurements on file and we’ll update them periodically.” Count Andrei Orzhov was the official court tailor of the Velikoslavian court and owner of the largest fashion house in Velikoslavia. He had been clothing royalty for forty years but he had a tendency to be very hands on with his clients.

“That’s something we can arrange”, Konrad stated as Feodor stepped into the boots he was preparing to lace up, looking up at him with a smirk. “Aren’t you glad I’m here to put all this on you so you don’t go looking like a barbarian in front of multiple nation’s dignitaries?”

Feodor smiled back and felt a momentary surge of emotion. “You know, Konrad, I really am glad to have you by my side. You stood beside me when so many others forsook me.”

Konrad finished lacing the dress boots and stood up face to face with Feodor, placing both hands on his master’s shoulders and smoothing the wrinkles out. “We’ve been together since we were nine years old and I took the oath of lifetime service. Nothing is going to change that. Now let’s eat this spread they have placed out.” Konrad walked over to the round table in the opposite corner of the room. Two chairs were set out with a large display of foods. “I’m told that we have rye bread, aged Swiss cheese, blueberries, dates, almonds, cherry yogurt, and a pastry called a bogatsa on the side.”

Feodor eyed the spread with a raised eyebrow. “Did you tell them that this was a meal for two? I don’t see the other five people that they planned for.”

Konrad snickered and pulled out Feodor’s chair. “I haven’t had much discussion with them. It is apparently already some scandalous affair between the servants and lower nobles that I am sleeping in the same apartment as you and not in some servant’s quarters. I’m even pulling out seating for you like you’re some helpless court lady in an attempt to adhere to the customs here.”

Feodor picked up a bogasta and took a large bite, his body suddenly reminding him he hadn’t eaten in eight hours. “I think something like this happens anytime we visit here. Velikoslavians are a source of genuine fascination for Mesogeian palace staff. My brother once served himself a pastry from a platter and the servant standing next to the table looked at him like he’d just slapped the Empress herself. I don’t think some of them ever leave this environment, you might say some of them just don’t have the balls to work anywhere else.”

Both boys snickered at the joke, which would’ve gotten Feodor a swat on the back of his head from Alexis had he been there. Konrad had begun eating himself on the other side of the table. He never served Feodor food in private, as the Grand Prince didn’t want to put up with the formality involved as it was faster simply to serve himself from the food on the table once the meal was set. His elder sister Anastasia and brother Vasily both enjoyed being attended heavily by their staff. Alexis and Feodor were the opposite, preferring to handle more tasks on their own, in private anyway. Today, Konrad would be handling virtually everything publicly since they were on ceremony. They both quickly ate their fill before Konrad stood up and started clearing away the leftovers, placing everything on a nearby serving cart.

Feodor stood up and carefully checked his clothing for crumbs or stains. Thankfully, he had managed to avoid ruining his clothing which they would not have time to have cleaned. He turned to Konrad, who had just wheeled the cart into the hallway for the Mesogeian servants to pick up. “What is the schedule for today, Konrad?”

Konrad had picked up Feodor’s sabre, an elegantly shaped blade with a golden hilt inlaid with jewels, and started polishing it. Satisfied with its condition, he slid it back into the hilt and stepped behind his charge, snapping the hilt into Feodor’s belt. “We will spend the morning touring one of the museums with your brother while we await Her Majesty, the Tsarita, to finish attending the ceremony with Her Majesty, the Empress. In the afternoon, we will proceed to a garden party where Her Majesty, the Empress will receive foreign guests of her rank. The evening will be a grand illumination ceremony and a tour of various museums and exhibitions.”

“What exactly does an illumination ceremony entail?”, Feodor asked as he adjusted the collar of orders around his neck.

Konrad went over to the jewelry box on the massive cedar dresser and retrieved two signet rings from the golden jewelry box and carefully handed them to Feodor, one marking his Marques title and the other marking his status as a Grand Prince and in line for the throne. “As far as I understood it, you watch the palace staff turn on all of the lights slowly and they make a show out of it.”

Feodor slipped the second signet ring on his finger, finally completing his dress for the day. “Mesogeians do like to make a spectacle out of everything. Well, we are here and this is a once in a lifetime event. May as well experience it to the fullest. Shall we go, Konrad?”

Konrad stepped up to the exit and opened the door. “After you, My Lord”, he said with a smile and a teasing tone. Feodor rolled his eyes, smiled, and stepped through the door into the ornate hallway to face the day.

Alexandropolis, Mesogeia
November 4, 2022

Alexis, Tsar of Velikoslavia, looked over from behind the dressing partition as a loud adolescent voice exclaimed, “Nick give that back.” Eight year old Nicholas had grabbed eleven year old Maria’s signet ring and was dodging his sister’s grasping hand. Both were standing at the dresser in the large dressing salon that the apartment contained. For a Mesogeian, this room would likely be filled with servants. For its current Velikoslavian tenets, it was just Alexis and his four children who were all being dressed by a few attendants. They would then get escorted to Grand Princess Maria who would be watching her nieces and nephews. Paul was down the hall with his own Steward, the young Duke of Volskurr, Skandar Alrund, being attended to. Alexis’ own Steward, Lucas Feldun, was polishing Agian, the Arragaran steel blade of the Velikoslavian Tsar, passed from ruler to ruler for generations. Its deep, midnight blue blade seemed to shift colors from blue to black as the light shifted. The dragon head shaped hilt, the open mouth of the beast full of a large ruby, gleamed in the light. Lucas slid the sword back into its leather and gold scabbard and walked over to his master, clipping it onto the belt of his ceremonial military style dress uniform.

“Nick, give that back to your sister. We don’t have time for games. Your mother is already in ceremony with the Empress. Your brother and I are due to meet our tour guides soon.”

Nicholas frowned a bit and handed the ring back to his sister, who swiped it from his hand with a cross look. “Yes father. Do we have to stay with the Lady Maria all day or can we come to the garden party also?”

Alexis smiled indulgently at his son. “I do not know what the Mesogeian court has planned but I do know you will be with many children your own age and get to see your cousins. If you’re all well behaved, I am sure the Grand Princess may permit you to visit us at the party.”

Nicholas gave his father a big smile. “That would be awesome”, he said as a servant, looking slightly hurried, snapped the clasp of the boy’s collar of orders into place. A knock at the door garnered everyone’s attention. A male Mesogeian servant opened the door once Alexis called out “enter”.

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, the Grand Princess Maria is ready for the children”, he stated. His muted dress, young age, closely cropped brown hair, and slight figure denoted him as a lower ranking servant, likely newer to the palace staff.

Alexis stepped out from behind the partition, fully dressed for the day, and addressed his children in Old Telerian. “Maria, Nicholas, Michael, Theodora, go with the servant. He will escort you to the Lady Maria.” The children all bowed slightly to their father and were herded out by their staff members, the young servant boy leading the way. As the door closed, he called out to his eldest son, Paul. A blonde head poked out of the doorway down the hall from the salon, the blue eyes of Skandar Alrund carefully fixed on Alexis’ lower face rather than looking up into his eyes. It was a custom Alexis found annoying but the nine Great Telerian Houses adhered to it strictly and had the last two and a half thousand years regarding the ruler.

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace. Paul will be out shortly. We are just finishing the last touches of the uniform”, he stated, his changing teenage voice cracking slightly. He was thirteen, one year younger than his charge, and had to ask Lucas for assistance more often than not in the year he had been Paul’s steward but when Paul had come of age for such an appointment, he had insisted it be Skandar, who was his oldest friend. The boy’s father had passed away three years ago. He had been his parent’s miracle heir. His mother had been forty-two and his father fifty-three when he was born. He was technically on the Council of Nine but his age meant his uncle was serving in the role of a regent until he came of age. Alexis had noticed some resentment on his uncle’s part at losing his position as heir to the Dukedom of Volskurr, but his close position with the Imperial Family and his favored role with Paul protected him from any backlash or challenges from the rest of his family.

Alexis noticed Lucas’ fond smile. Both of them had developed a sibling like relationship over the past year as a boy born into a Dukedom trained to become a steward. In many ways, Skandar was still somewhat poor at many of his duties. However, steward had a relatively flexible meaning and the role varied based on who the master was. Skandar’s rank meant that other servants could fulfill most of the more public roles of a steward and he simply had to learn the more private ones, such as aiding Paul in dressing into dress uniforms which could be difficult and frustrating to put on alone.

Lucas busied himself polishing Alexis’s signet ring before handing it to the Tsar for him to put on. “Young Skandar isn’t always the best at what he does but he is very popular with all us staff. He was an interesting pick but no one could really argue with him when he agreed.”

Alexis nudged him with his elbow. They were standing in front of the jewelry cabinet and Alexis was donning his rings and collar of orders. “You have a soft spot for him, don’t you?”, he said with a light smile.

“He does outrank me and his rank means he won’t perform many of the public duties I perform for you, but he tries very hard and you can tell he doesn’t want to let his best friend down. I remember that feeling. An appointment like this is the dream for anyone that is regularly around higher nobility. My low ranking family would’ve never even been seated near yours but when we met in the boarding school, none of that seemed to matter to you. My father was leveraging our estate to pay for school so I could rise in rank and you were working to graduate and parading around saying you were going into the military, despite being the Tsar, always running away from your handlers and throwing yourself into the most dangerous possible situation. We got into a lot of trouble.”

Alexis smiled. “That we did. My family has had a military tradition since before we were on the throne. I wasn’t going to be the one to break that tradition. But we can reminisce more later. I believe our party is finally ready to depart.”

Alexis smiled brightly as his son in full uniform stepped out of his room, Duke Skandar in tow. The Arragaran steel sword Solanaceae strapped to his side. House Ivanov had owned Solanaceae for centuries, long before they came to the throne. Legend stated that it had been given to one of their ancestors on a voyage to old Ghant, which was the same place Agian had come from. It had been designated the sword of the Heir to the Sapphire Throne when House Ivanov had taken the throne. He complimented his son in Old Telerian. “You definitely look the part of a future Tsar. Very handsome. You’ll be the star of the party.”

Paul blushed slightly. “Can we go now, father? I’d like to get this over with. Wearing this for hours is stifling.”

“We’re just waiting on your uncle to get here and then we will go meet the servants in the exit hall.” There was a loud knock at the main door. “Enter”, Alexis yelled. A servant opened the door and stepped just inside, stepping to the right of the entryway.

“Presenting His Excellency, Grand Prince Feodor, Marquis of Sevastopol”.

Feodor walked into the room, followed closely by his own steward Konrad. “Shall we go, Your Grace?” He noticed Paul. “You’re looking quite strapping today, nephew. The hand of every princess at the party will be presented to you, at this rate.”

Paul smiled wryly. It was clear Feodor was teasing his nephew. They were only four years apart and had developed a close friendship throughout their childhood. “I won’t have to turn any of my suitors to my side of the mote, though”, Paul replied. The servant stepped into the hallway and Alexis and Lucas fell in behind him, followed by Paul and Skandar.

Feodor snickered and followed the procession outside into the hallway with Konrad in tow, the servant escorting them onward down the hallway and to the first stop of the day. “That you won’t, Paul, that you won’t.”

Alexandropolis, Mesogeia
November 4, 2022
Gardens of Mangana

After a morning tour of Mangana, the afternoon came and the garden party began. The Ivanov Family and their servants arrived at the garden. Alexis was reunited with his lovely wife, Theodora, Grand Princess of Mesogeia. They would attend the party until evening, meeting with all of Theodora’s relatives who had recently arrived for the festivities.

[Mesogeia]

*reworked*

[Ghant]

“Simply Elena”
Mangana Palace Gardens,
Alexandropolis, Mesogeia

“…I don’t trust Eunuchs,” Princess Leila of Arrautsa commented crudely to her husband, hoping that none were in earshot. “My father always told me that you cannot trust a man who has no balls.”

Rubbing his smooth, clean-shaven chin, Prince Manuel of Ghant countered that “on the contrary, a man with no balls is a man who will never have to worry about draining them.” However hard the prince might have tried to deliver the quip with a straight face, the corners of his mouth curled into a grin.

Leila poked Manuel in the ribs and said “you shouldn’t talk like that in front of the children.” Like Manuel, she tried to speak seriously but couldn’t keep a straight face, and her otherwise severe expression gave way to a devilish smirk.

“They’re not paying attention anyway,” observed the Prince, though if anyone was being unobservant, it was him, or so their daughter Elena was inclined to believe.

Elena was sixteen, and like both of her parents was slightly dusky with black hair and dark brown eyes. She was wearing a long black gown trimmed with gold, the colors of the Ghantish Imperial House, and matching closely the uniform that her father wore. Her mother on the other hand wore the colors of her own house, the Royal House of Arrautsa, white and red. Elena’s younger siblings, Prince David and Princess Lydia were present as well, as they were old enough to participate in a state function such as this, provided they were on their best behavior. David was fourteen, a quiet and sulky boy, and Lydia was twelve, intelligent but mischievous. Both of them were dressed similarly to Manuel and Elena, as it was the custom in Ghant to wear the colors of one’s house.

Manuel and Leila were often remarked in Ghant to be an exceptionally well-matched couple. Manuel was the eldest son of Prince Robert of Ghant, the fifth son of the late Emperor Michael of Ghant, and Mariana of Mesogeia, the oldest child of Empress Elena of Mesogeia. Leila on the other hand was the third daughter of the late King Barrin of Arrautsa and Princess Lorin Hazarasp, daughter of the late Prince Jorin who’s father was Tiridates V, the last King of Vardana. As the story goes, the two met while at university and were in the same classes, being very close in age, and shared a common interest in eastern affairs. The two began a relationship and both families were pleased to accept.

Now the two of them were both thirty-eight years old and with six children, and the implication of their union was too strong to ignore. Emperor Nathan IV, in his wisdom (or lack thereof) appointed Manuel as the Ghantish Imperial Emissary to the Eastern Empire. As a result, Manuel and his family had lived in Leonople for many years now, and Manuel took great care to cultivate strong relationships with the prominent Perateian families and government officials, while at the same time building ties with the Vardanan exiles and Mesogeia.

As such, it wasn’t a long trip for the family from Leonople to Alexandropolis, and numerous visits had been conducted over the years, though they seldom lacked the formality of the present occasion. The family had already arrived by the time Manuel’s parents and siblings did, or other members of the extended Ghantish Imperial Family. Robert made it a point to arrive first from Ghant, as he was always eager to curry favor with his mother-in-law.

Among the Ghantish, the Emperor’s brother Prince Leo was present with his wife Lady Joanna Voor, who was closely related to the Latin Emperor. Also in attendance was the elderly Prince Arthur of Ghant and his wife, Empress Elena’s youngest half-sister Irene, and their Alexander, Roxana and Theodore, their spouses and children who’s names escaped Elena. Much of Manuel’s extended family from other nations was accounted for as well, including Empress Elena’s oldest half-sister Berenice, Dowager Tsarina of Nekulturnya, and their children Tsar Nikolai, Minka, Konstantin, Stateria and Ekaterina, and their families. Nikolai’s consort Tsarina Estrid of Velikoslavia was there along with their children Tsarevich Mikhail and his wife Princess Stephania of Aretias, who was closely related to Manuel, Tatiana, Anastasia, Xenia, Yuri and Veronika.

Princess Elena also observed a significant party from Garima, including King Conrad IV of Garima and his wife Princess Margarethe of Rahdenburg, who was king to the Crown Princess of Mesogeia, their oldest son Duke Frederick and his wife Princess Teresa of Latium, cousin of the Latin Emperor, and the King’s other children Elisabeth, Otto and Ella. It was worth noting that the King’s daughter Adelinda was married to the Crown Prince of Mesogeia’s oldest son and heir Michael, who would one day be Emperor of Mesogeia. Empress Elena’s other sister, the infamous Margarita was present along with her children Duke Frederick (the elder), Princess Sibylle and her husband Prince Francis of Sudemark, Duke Charles and Sophie. Princess Elena also observed Infante Enrique of Garza and his wife, Princess Eirene of Latium, aunt of the Latin Emperor, and their daughter Infanta Leona, who shined in her gold and white dress.

The gardens as one might imagine were quite crowded, and the sounds of conversation and merriment filled the air to the point of a constant noise that seemed to permeate even the most remote corners of the grounds. Princess Elena had observed that the gardens were richly decorated for the occasion with large torches that lined the walkways of the garden grounds, and the air was heavy with the scent of flowers. An orchestra played music above the garden to provide entertainment, though few of the people that Elena observed seemed to be listening.

Various hors d'oeuvres and wines were arrayed for the enjoyment of the myriad guests, though Elena was reluctant to jockey for them. Being something of an easterling herself, Elena knew what all of the food was and nothing stood out as being particularly exotic. Not like in Ghant, where the food is fit for a barbarian’s palate, Elena thought. She looked for her elderly great-grandmother who was her namesake in the throngs of people, wondering what she would say if she came her way. Among the various extended relations of the Empress, on the Ghantish side, young Elena was often referred to as “Elena the Black” to distinguish her from her older cousin Elena, who was more closely related to the Emperor of Ghant. But to great-grandmother I’m simply Elena.

Eventually young Elena had her moment, though it didn’t seem to last nearly as long as she would’ve liked, though it was understandable because the Empress had so many people that she had to greet and rub elbows with. Fortunately, the Empress had invited members of her extended family to spend the night at Mangana Palace, with the next day’s events following in short order.

Hagia Triada Cathedral, Alexandropolis

It was called the Te Deum, and was to be held at Hagia Triada. It was an early morning affair, which seemed to bother Elena’s grandfather Robert, who she had observed drinking a fair amount of wine the night before and looked as though he’d rather be asleep in his room. Of what her grandmother Mariana thought, Elena tried to avoid contemplating.

By Nine Thirty in the morning, thousands of guests had piled into the Cathedral of Hagia Triada, and in addition to the prestigious guests of the previous evening, many more people of notoriety had swarmed the Cathedral, from government dignities to military and representatives of the local nobility. It wasn’t until past Eleven that the Empress and her sons and their families had arrived, with young Elena’s grandfather trying desperately to hide his disheveled face.

“Your father got smashed last night,” Leila observed to Manuel, her voice low and her head down. “Did your mother flog him this morning?”

“A wise man once told me that you should never ask questions that you don’t want to know the answer to,” Manuel replied with a pinched expression. “Men in that generation of the family were notorious drinkers, as I’m sure you’ve heard. Uncle Alan used to make them all play drinking games, and would laugh when they started puking.”

“…Who was the wise man that told you that anecdote?” Leila asked, curiously.

Manuel chuckled and answered “Uncle Alan.” The late Emperor of Ghant, the current Emperor’s grandfather, was many things, Elena thought, but wise wasn’t one of them, or so she had heard.

Princess Elena noticed that Princess Adalinda, who was in the entourage of the Empress when they arrived to the Cathedral, wore a lavish golden gown that matched her hair, although she herself appeared bored amongst the precession. Leila also noticed this and commented softly to Manuel that, “your cousin’s daughter looks like she’d rather be someplace else.” Adalinda’s mother was Manuel’s cousin Margarethe of Rahdenburg, whom Manuel had known since he was a little boy. Margarethe’s father, the late Prince Heinrich of Schaumberg, was Manuel’s least favorite uncle, an ill-tempered, miserly old curmudgeon.

“…Garimans aren’t fond of such pageantry outside of Nyrundy,” Manuel began to explain. “They would rather drink beer and play pub games then strut around. Not to mention the fact that neither my cousin nor her husband have ever been much for formality.”

It wasn’t until past noon that the religious services began, and by that time Elena’s grandfather had seemingly fallen asleep, or at least struggled to stay awake. The service lasted for three hours during which time Manuel tried his best to stay focused, although Leila, David and Lydia seemingly struggled to stay attentive. Young Elena looked around the cathedral and studied the expressions of the people present to see who was doing what, or who could stay focused for so long and not fall asleep. It seemed like a mixed bag among the people that she recognized. Adalinda seemed to have eyes glazed over for the better part of the service. Adalinda’s father King Conrad of Garima didn’t fare much better, and looked like he was asleep more often than not.

When it ended, the Empress and her entourage departed to welcoming crowds outside, and slowly but surely the guests within the Cathedral had their chance to depart, or escape, depending on one’s perspective. The next leg of the day’s events would take place at the Great Sacred Palace to the south, which was considered the great seat of the Empress. By the time that young Elena and her family had arrived there, the Empress and her immediate family were on a balcony, and heralds were crying out her titles:

“Her Imperial Majesty Elena II Chalkidina-Megabagiarida Troadina-Herekleidina, By the Grace of God, Faithful in Christ, Empress and Autocrat of Mesogeia, Shahanshah of all the Azagartians, of Aerion and Anaerion, the Most Faithful Apostolic Majesty, the Most Pious and Blessed Padishah of the three cities, the Great Bagiar, Basileus of the North and the South; Haqan of the Two Lands, and the two Seas, Ruler of the Four Quarters, Basileus of the Troianians and the Anatolians, Lion of the East, the Celestial One, God’s Vicegerent on Earth, Champion of the Messiah, Refuge of the universe, Lady of the Auspicious Conjunction, Master of all the hither and the thither up to the Sun and Moon, Nest of Paradise, Equal to the Apostles, Protector and Defender of the holy sites and sacred fires, Kyria Strategos of the twelve kingdoms, Queen of Mygdonia, Queen of Bithynia, Grand Princess of Epeiros, Duchess of Aegai, Duchess of Tesalia, Hegemon of cities, Lady of the Tauric Isles, and so forth, and so forth, and so forth, does hereby issue imperial clemency to all persons of favorable note, currently being held in prison or jail, or those persons that have been burdened by heavy debt that have shown themselves to be dutiful subjects of her most gracious majesty. That is persons who have requested appeals to her majesty from lesser courts and have been found to have been worthy of imperial clemency. Upon issue of this proclamation all persons falling under its protection may not be recharged for the same crime, as this document frees them from the above proscribed wrongdoings, with the exemption of those charged with high treason or serious and most heinous acts who in turn do commit similar offense. This proclamation is to take effect upon issue. God’s Grace Save the Empress!”

“…My grandfather was the Lion of the East,” Leila opined after she heard the herald cry Elena’s titles, referring to Prince Jorin of Vardana.

“Yeah, and the Latin Emperor is also God’s Viceregent on Earth, or something like that,” laughed Manuel gingerly. “The Ghantish on the other hand don’t claim titles that they are not proven to possess.”

“…I’d wager I’m more Ghantish than you are, love,” Leila laughed with a playful hand on Manuel’s chest. “And my father used to say that a King should never claim more than he can take.”

After a half hour or so of receiving the acclamations of the people, Elena and the imperial family retired back to the Great Palace complex in anticipation of the Reception of Congratulations from the high ranking members of the imperial government and other illustrious guests.

Megali Aithousa, Boukoleon Palace, Great Sacred Palace Complex, Alexandropolis

It wasn’t until five in the afternoon that the Empress and her entourage gathered in the Hall of Eagles, which was a large room that doubled as a living room and a waiting room for those wanting to be received by the Empress. The room was decorated with mosaics, tapestries and paintings, and young Elena observed them with great interest. It wasn’t unlike the Imperial Palace of Ghish, with its great emphasis on eagle imagery.

Fifteen minutes past five, the silver doors of the Hall of Eagles were opened, and then the Empress lead a procession of members of the Imperial Family into the Mousai Hall, “the Hall of Muses” the first chamber of the grand state rooms of Boukoleon Palace. They were greeted by officers of the state. Following this, the Imperial family passed into the Megali Aithousa, the great hall of the Palace. Young Elena studied the decorated tall glass windows that looked out into the sea, tall ornate columns that rose so high that staring at the ceiling made her dizzy, and detailed stonework with the faces of past emperors on the walls, which gave her the creeps. The Red Ghantar do the same thing in Odolargia, Elena thought, a shiver running down her spine. Her grandmother Lorin was born at Castle Veros in Odolargia, and Elena had been there once and saw the Hall of Faces in Odola, with the ancient Blood Kings red faces and ruby eyes glistening in the dim light of the room. Once was enough for a lifetime, Elena thought, and she looked away from the faces of her ancestors.

At the center of the room was a portrait of the Empress’s ancestor Emperor Michael, the number of which young Elena couldn’t recall. Beneath it was a dais with a throne flanked by smaller chairs. Once the Empress had taken a seat, the supplicants began to line up and present themselves to her, offering her gifts. The custom was for each male guest to kiss the Empress’s hand before presenting their gift.

When it was Manuel’s turn, he was cried as “Prince Manuel of Ghant, Princess Leila of Arrautsa, Prince David of Ghant, Princess Elena of Ghant and Princess Lydia of Ghant,” and then Manuel kissed his grandmother’s hand, followed by David doing the same.

“Grandmother, your Majesty, I would like to present you with a rare gift, compliments of my brother-in-law, King Taboro of Arrautsa.” Manuel subsequently produced a large, perfectly cut ruby pendant. “This ruby was mined in the Ilun Mountains, grandmother. Crafted in platinum, this is a solitaire ruby pendant, and the purplish red oval ruby is topped by a sparkling diamond. You may notice the intricate scroll work on the sides. I could not think of a more appropriate gift to commemorate this occasion.”

Following this, Manuel and David performed the traditional bow, while Leila, Elena and Lydia gave a deep curtsey in the formal style as was customary in Ghant. Not wanting to linger, Manuel led his family away in the appropriate fashion and went to where they were supposed to go. “I hope your grandmother likes her gift,” Leila commented after they were removed from the Imperial presence. “My brother busted his balls getting it made.”

“I’m sure she will,” Manuel replied. “And I have you to thank for helping me get it. I was at a loss before on what to get.”

“Well, love, that’s what I’m here for,” laughed Layla merrily. “What do you think your father got her?”

Manuel stroked his chin and answered “a headache.” At that, the family laughed in unison, and together they waited for whatever came next. Hopefully not another all day church session, Elena wished to herself.

[Mesogeia]

*Written with the help of Tarsas

Imperial Court Theater, Hormisdou district, Alexandropolis
8th November, 2022


After a short rest the Empress along with her son and daughter in law, Their Imperial Highnesses Despot Constantine and Despotissa Sophia, as well as the Grand Prince Michael and his new bride the Grand Princess Adalinda rode to the Imperial Court Theater located on the Hormisdou Odos overlooking the palace harbor. The Imperial Court Theater was the third building of that name to be erected on the site, the second had been demolished to build the present iteration while the first one had been destroyed in a fire.

The present iteration of the building was a superb masterpiece of Mesogeian craftsmanship and stonemasonry, a vestige of Mesogeia’s ancient past, the structure was a neoclassical beauty located in the Great Sacred palace’s backyard; it’s only rival being the elaborately flamboyant Imperial Opera House located on the huge expansive Mese Odos almost on the other side of the city.

On the program for that evening was a gala performance of the ancient story of "The Concubine", a tale that related the forbidden love story of Emperor Demetrius I who fell in love with Barsine, his father’s concubine and threatened to relinquish his diadem and to let the empire fall into pieces if he could not have the woman, before nearly wasting away until finally in an act of filial love his father the Emperor relents and allows the two to marry, and Barsine becomes empress. By the time the Empress and her close family members had arrived at the Imperial Court Theater from the Boukoleon Palace the halls of the Imperial Court Theater were filled with a glittering array of Mesogeian high society, officers of the military in richly embroidered ceremonial uniforms some blue, some green, some red; courtiers and high ranking male personages in Skaramangia, the fashionable evening wear worn by men; while the ladies both married and unmarried were dressed in evening gowns clearly modeled after the white silk court dress of the Imperial Court only these evening gowns were bedecked with an ungodly amount of jewels, more so than usual from head to toe with an appropriately low decolletage level.

Inside the Theater’s great chamber, the tiers of boxes that were adjacent to the Great Imperial Box were filling up quickly, as was the ground floor which was filled with high ranking members of the imperial government, members of the Imperial Council, members of the Synedrion, chief officers of the court, and lesser courtiers.

In one tier sat the foreign diplomats who were invited to the Jubilee, another held the officers of the Imperial Guards, while still another one held the ladies in waiting and maids of honor to the Empress and the Grand Princesses, all dressed in characteristic white shaded court dress.

Upon her arrival at the Imperial Court Theater the Empress was greeted in the lobby of the main Imperial Box by the assembled members of the Imperial family. Her Imperial Majesty The Empress was joined in the central box by their Imperial Highnesses the Despot, and Despotissa; His Imperial Highness Grand Prince Michael and his new wife the Grand Princess Adalinda; their Imperial Highnesses the Grand Princesses Elena, Zoe, Anna; and Her Imperial Highness the Dowager Consort Theophano Banu.

The immediate imperial family was joined in the central imperial box by close family relations Tsar Alexis V of Velikoslavia and his wife Tsarina Theodora (Elena II's grand daughter), Tsar Nikolai of Nekulturnya, his wife Tsarina Estrid, their son Tsarevich Mikhail and his wife Princess Stephanie of Aretias; Grand Princess Margarita (who had married a Gariman royal) with her children Frederick the Duke of Silingia-Marlburg, Princess Sibylle and her husband Prince Christian of Sudemark, Duke Charles and Sophie; King Conrad IV of Garima with Queen Margarethe (a Rhadenburg by birth and relative of the current Despotissa Sophia), their son Duke Fredrick and his wife Princess Teresa of Latium; Prince Robert of Ghant and his wife Mariana (a Grand Princess by birth), along with their children including Prince Manuel of Ghant and his wife Princess Leila of Arrautsa; the elderly Prince Arthur of Ghant and his wife Irene (a Grand Princess by birth) and their children Alexander, Roxana, and Theodore with their spouses, along with Prince Leo of Ghant and his wife Lady Joanna Voor representing his Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Ghant; and his Royal Highness Infante Enrique of Garza and his wife Princess Eirene of Latium, with their daughter Infanta Leona representing His Majesty the King of Garza; seated amongst most honored guests including the King of Belfras

The capacity of the central imperial box was quickly reached forcing still others, such as the more remote relations and the younger grandchildren of the Empress' and her sisters to be seated in one of the side Imperial Boxes reserved for the Grand Princes and princes of the imperial blood.

The other sons of the Empress, the Dukes of Chalcedon and Hebodomon and their wives; along with the Grand Princes Alexander, Constantine, and Manuel sat in the imperial box to right side of the stage; while the Empress’ first cousins the Dukes of Chousa and Aspadana sat on the box to the left of the stage with their wives.

Just as the word was given that the Empress was about to enter the central Imperial Box a court annoncer made the announcement. “The State Trumpeters of the Imperial Agents of the Stirrup herald the arrival of Her Majesty The Empress!”

With the flourish of the imperial trumpets the Empress and her party entered the imperial box. The whole theater rose to their feet at the sight of the Empress and the Imperial announcer cried out one final time to call all those present to attention so that they might honor her majesty the Empress by singing the Mesogeian national anthem, “Let us now sing God’s Grace Aids the Empress!”

“God’s grace to our auspicious Empress!
Ten thousand years to our noble Empress!
Let shine her celestial splendor
Fortunate and glorious
God’s grace aids our Empress!

From her diadem let victory shine!
In her council let wisdom and truth sit!
Victorious and prosperous may she reign!
Great is she of a most noble line
God’s grace to our Empress!

O, sun shine upon the sublime realm, ever to prevail.
Upon her, her house, and empire be rays of splendor.
Let the wicked and the enemies of truth never prevail.
For the Mesogeians rejoice in every age.
God’s grace aids our Empress!

The richest blessings be upon him,
Our Padishah, our Queen of Kings,
Our Most Auspicious Empress
Ten thousand years to her
Long to reign over us, in prosperity
God’s grace aids our Empress

May her lips escape good words
Ever to give us cause for good thoughts
Let the foes of the sublime state take heed.
Eternal are her good deeds.
God’s grace to our Empress!


The cheering crowd of the assembled persons at the Court Theater requested that the national anthem be played two further times after its initial playing. Once this was said in done all those present settled down for the performance of “The Concubine” with the first act featuring a scene of noble ladies preparing a bride for marriage; only the bride Barsine is young and beautiful and she is getting married to an elderly emperor when she has eyes for his son.

Alexis watched the presentation expectantly, enjoying the brightly colored dress of the Mesogeian aristocracy. He decided he might pick some up for himself. He was seated between his bride, Theodora the Grand Princess, and his grandmother in law, the Empress Elena. When introduced by the herald, he waved to the crowd, giving them all his largest smile. Showmanship was as much a part of his job as it was the actors on stage. As the play started, he took his seat and watched expectantly. He leaned over to his grandmother in law. “Might I ask what the historical significance of this play is in Mesogeia?”

“It is an enduring love story, based on the very real life of the fourth monarch of the Aegaid dynasty who reigned in the fourth century BC. Back in those days the emperor was forced to deal with powerful lords who sought to circumvent his power and prestige, one such lord, the reported ancestor of the current Magabyzos princes, offered his daughter to the aging emperor Alexander XII has a bride or a bribe as some say but the young lady fell in love with her son in law Demetrius who had fallen for her as well.” The empress smiled as she leaned over the side of her armchair as she related the story to the Velikoslavian Tsar.

“The poor prince nearly wasted away longing for the woman he could not have and when the cause of his ailment was revealed to his royal father the old emperor flew into a rage thinking something illicit had transpired between his son and his wife; the story says that he even summoning the palace guard to dispatch his son; however the young prince escaped with his lover to the north where Barsine’s Magabyzoi relations and other northern houses rose up in support of the young prince and marched on Mithradat-Alcaeia, the capital at the time with a host of fifty thousand men.”

“The crisis was only averted when the elderly Empress Dowagers Roxana the elder and Cleopatra interceded on the young prince’s behalf, pleading with the old emperor that it would be prudent to spare the life of his son; having already suffering the loss of two other sons one by illness and the other by a bloody rebellion. And so the old emperor relented and the two lovers were allowed to marry; such a wonderfully romantic ending I’d say.”

[Enyama]

Day 1
Mangana Imperial Palace Gardens,
Alexandropolis, Mesogeia

---

Within the confines of the garden and past a rather large topiary arrangement did the bald man in his Nanban dou gusoku armor strut with an air of cautious pride. Banno Yudo searched now, amid the sea of foreign dignitaries and monarchs present at the event, to find out where his damned daughters had gone off to. The Shogun finally caught a glimpse of just his eldest, Masumi, sitting alone near the garden's periphery, observing the Belfrasian and Gariman tables from afar and sipping some colored foreign drink out of a crystal glass. Banno strutted towards the table with a determined step, his eyes darting back and forth to the various faces of various important peoples therein, gauging them, their lives, the amount of suffering they'd seen or not, caused or not, the way in which they laughed and which ones seemed to have the least annoying ones. Finally, with a fatherly grunt, he sat down on the chair vis-a-vis Masumi, gritting his teeth as subtly as he could, which did amuse his daughter.

"Enjoying the processions, father?" she asked with an air of teasings that grown men back home wouldn't dare attempt towards the Shogun. He simply grunted in reply, breaching an armored hand over to clasp one of the complimentary drinks. He swished the thick red wine therein, and his eyes moved to meet his daughter's briefly, and then out again towards the procession. There was a knowing look there, one he'd given, and she'd seen before. He was about to subtly turn an idle conversation into life advice, again. "I do my best. Look around." he gestured with the glass. "Where's Kauru?" he asked, not noticing his second daughter's distinctive red formal armor anywhere within the sea of dignitaries and monarchs. "I can only imagine she's gotten bored with the pomp."

"I think so, father. I last saw her an hour ago, and she said she was going for some air." Masumi paused, playing with the loose sleeve of her top in an awkward interlude. "Do you trust her?" she asked, her words making real a sentiment that she hadn't previously voiced. The two - her father the Shogun, and Kauru the soldier, had always been two of a kind, and yet Masumi was the heir. A rare smirk went across Banno's face then, and he nodded. "That question is unbecoming of you, but I think you know that, and you know my answer. So why ask it?"

"She knows her assignment for the future, and you know yours." mumbled the Shogun, setting down his drink without having touched it. "These are the trappings of power by which the world is ruled. Look upon them. Consider yourself lucky that these ihōjin have even accepted our presence. It is a big step, you know. If we secure the support of the western courts in full..." he paused, thinking for a bit, lost in possibility. "Do you think they respect us?" asked Masumi. She still sipped her drink. "They respect power as much as they do wine." nodded her father as he replied. "We're more of a curiosity now than anything, I reckon. I know it can be grating, talking to those who know nothing of war or our intricacies. But this can also be advantageous. Keep that smile equipped. We don't have to be like them, nor them us, to know that we can help each other." Masumi nodded. "And as for marriage?"

"I have a selection of candidates. Kaojiang and Belfras have both stepped forward to my request, for now. But you will choose, and you'd best choose soon."

---

Day 2
Imperial Court Theater,
Alexandropolis, Mesogeia

---

Adión Abellan grumbled something to himself as the court announcer gave his closing remarks and the performance began. To his left, his sister Silvana chuckled. "First time in a real theater, brother?" she asked with a smirk. "Quiet!" hushed their father Velezio from the front of the Princely booth. "It's starting," he said. To his right and in front of Silvana was Valentin, the supposed heir to Gran Aligonia, in an older world where that meant something and Veremundo's family antics hadn't gotten the better of the entire nation. He squinted at the unfamiliar lettering on the high-quality ale which he ordered, engrossed in trying to read the thing more than the opening scenes of the play unfolding below. Eventually, as the lights dimmed further, he set it down after a sip. But it didn't take fifteen minutes for the eldest to nudge his father's shoulder and subtly point his finger below at something, to which even Velezio broke out of his engrossment with the performance to see.

Adión and Ofelia traded looks of curiosity for a brief moment. It didn't take verbal communication to know that maybe their brother had finally glimpsed the proverbial unicorn. And so they leaned in, in instant agreement that whatever was about to be said would be quite juicy. Valentin hushed his voice for a bit, and Velezio nodded. "...so leave that bedwetter and his betrothed to their own devices. The Mesogeians have done an excellent job of keeping us far apart and I intend to keep it that way."

Adión and Ofelia traded grins. That meant Verucio, their cousin, and his wife Soraya were seated somewhere below them - and that meant, perhaps, that a party would be at hand later if they could sneak away into the streets of Alexandropolis without anyone being the wiser. Maybe at that military event, thought Adión, when they really wouldn't have much to do. Still, to him, it was a good sign, as the pair were seated below their booth. It did make sense; Verucio had insisted that he'd renounced his claim and backed the Republic - much to his father's equal delight and chagrin, but Verucio had also been a far more interesting character with which to hang out than most of his side of the family, which, outside of his confidant in Ofelia, seemed rather too intense for concerted fun. Adión was the youngest of Velezio's Abelláns at 24, but even his head was swirling now with the possibility that the Mesogeians intended to sideline the often-controversial Verucio and support his father's claim towards a restoration of some sort of Principality in Gran Aligonia.

And if that happened, his life would surely get a lot more interesting, overnight even. But to get to any satisfactory answers, he would first have to sit through the play for a while. He offered another shrug to Ofelia, but her contemplation was over, and she had long rejoined her family in watching the play. He could have sworn he even saw his father shed a bit of a tear at it.

[Awasin]

Inside the Imperial Court Theater

Theirs was a good box, or so the trio thought. At least in positioning. The opulence of it all was a shock to the system, even after days spent within the city; if ever there had been a greater monument to excess in the face of collective misery, it was certainly much more out of the way. The arguments to the contrary-- that is to say, that things could be anything less than miserable for the average citizen-- certainly held little weight within the minds of the Awasi delegation, for this was true inequality, regardless of wealth disparity. Show them the Mesogeian sheepherder who could claim to sit within a box like theirs, indeed!

Regardless, there was not enough time in the world to think solely of how grossly decadent the system they were temporarily immersed in had made itself, most assuredly because not one of the three felt like leading their thoughts down the dark path of realizing just what unfortunate circumstances spiraled around the older monarchies. There were more important things to consider. Like, for instance, what exactly they had gotten themselves into, around halfway through the second playing of the imperial anthem. They stood when needed, sitting when it was perfectly acceptable to do so. It wouldn't do to insult their duly grandiose entertainers.

Machk sat the closest to the stage, or at least the furthest away from the other two, little as it mattered within the confines of the box they were seated in. In his left hand was a glass of some aged northern whiskey, its country of origin unclear, though it was more than likely that he had simply not taken as much time as he should have to analyze its make. Whiskey was whiskey, or at least the good kind was. What was surprising was that they bothered to have it here, instead of the seventeenth interminable type of red wine sharp enough to make his teeth hurt. In his right hand he held the program, eyes darting between it and the stage even as the lights went lower. He'd always enjoyed knowing more about what he was invited to view. Perhaps it was just a politician's curse. The suit that he wore, a plainer black accented only by a red feather-patterned pocket square, allowed him to blend in as he might wish.

Ayasha sat in the middle of her companions, though this definition applied only in the absolutely objective sense considering her chair was positioned so close to Sehesi that she may as well have been on top of her in the relative way of things. Her nearly-flax blue dress stretched quite considerably the limits of acceptable wear in the context of a diplomatic gathering, considering the sheer depth of its low cut plunge; it connected only below her navel and exposed a good portion of her sun-shaded skin and small bosom both, though this could not be said to be something that was in any way a negative. Her hair was braided up in a fashion somewhere between Awasi and Mesogeian, accented with an elkshead hairpin that must have been nearly a century old by its sheen. She watched the opening of the play with nothing but honest interest, for she had always enjoyed the arts, though she could not lie to herself and say that she was not equally as focused on whom she had her arm entwined with.

Sehesi was positioned as far from the stage as could be conceivably possible inside the box, not from any particular hatred of the theater-- quite the opposite, in fact-- but because it afforded her a superior view on a good number of the building's exits. It made her somewhat uncomfortable that she could not see at least two exits, those immediately behind her; no doubt the security was as tight as a mechanical watch given the presence of the Empress, but there had been enough surprises in Sehesi's life to render even the most outlandish scenario one that should be considered. She had exchanged armaments for tonight, just in case. Her shoulder holster was gone, and she carried only a single magazine loaded into the Sikohki Red Bear concealed just below the small of her back, carrying twelve rounds of 10x22mm for a total weight of twenty-nine ounces. Like Ayasha, she too wore a dress, specially designed for her role. It was a beautiful creation of Kaal'ga Jaad make that echoed the plumage of a red-tailed hawk, covering most of her body modestly while still accenting the most sensual sorts of features. The construction of its lower half allowed her nearly perfect mobility, which the woman was inordinately thankful for. The princess seemed to like it on her.

"Do you think," said Machk after a few minutes of the opening act had passed, his voice so low as to nearly be a whisper, "they tire of performing the same plays over and over?"

"That's what actors do, old man," said Ayasha. She was clearly teasing.

For a while, the conversation ended. There was much to focus on, at least for Ayasha. The actors were certainly performing well. Nothing else could be expected, of course, given that they were performing for the highest figure in their nation, and from personal experience there was nothing worse than believing you would have a chance at disappointing one to whom so much power and cultural authority was vested in. Though to her knowledge none of the actors were also the children of the Empress, as she was the child of a queen. It mattered little. The costuming, the set design, yes, all of these were certainly impressive, but the princess found herself preoccupied with the way that Sehesi leaned in when eyes were focused elsewhere.

Sehesi frowned, her gaze fixed on the stage. "Is it always so grand?"

"Theater in general?"

"Yes."

Ayasha was taken aback, unsure how to respond. Her eyebrows rose and fell as if a wave crested by a schooner before she was able to come up with an appropriate statement, which indeed was more of a question. "Have you never seen a play before?"

"Not before you," Sehesi replied, her voice as soft as it had ever been, "and I had other concerns then too."

"You would think of me that much?"

"You're my duty."

Ayasha's eyes wrinkled with mirth. "I hope I'm more than just a job to you, ihksimina."

Sehesi's cheeks, darkened as they were by the lack of illumination, flushed an extraordinary shade of scarlet. What was the right reply? Could she say anything here, burdened as she was by that so essential of qualities as the barrier between her and her responsibility, necessary if only to save herself the heartbreak that might come along with it? Was there even anything to say, or was all of it in her head? Question upon question piled themselves upon her as her eyes fell absentmindedly upon the stage once more, blind even to the movement of the actors like mice beneath a haystack in the fields of the Horn where she had played out her youth. It was only the renewed movement of a kind hand along her shoulder that made the woman turn, face to face once more with a curious Ayasha and her moon-deep eyes.

"Am I?" the princess asked.

"You are," Sehesi said.

"Tell me how."

The woman opened her mouth to speak, cognizant even through the hushed environment that this would be a strong sort of confession for the circumstances. Not that there was much to confess. Clearly this relationship was nothing more than it appeared, which is to say that she had not transcended any barrier that the princess had constructed, for such was her occupation, to be as unobtrusive as possible.

The same could not be said for Machk. His hand, set lightly upon Ayasha's shoulder, may well have been a live wire for the way it made the princess jolt away from her precarious position mere inches from her bodyguard's face, turning to face the okina with what first might have been indignation.

"I figured you would want to see the conclusion of the act, maatiakii," Machk offered, his expression perfectly neutral.

In a manner similar to her companion, Ayasha blushed. "Ah. Yes. Thanks, old man."

The moment was broken. Machk returned to nursing his whiskey, and both Ayasha and Sehesi made an extraordinary effort to focus on the conclusion of the first segment of the storyline. It was, quite honestly, a decent enough drama. Enjoying it was not an issue. There were things to like about all of this Mesogeian splendor, perhaps, or at least in their less explicitly horrific ways of bringing it to their foreign audience; perhaps there was some lesson buried deep within that thought, some recognition of things not being as they appeared on a first glance. Unfortunately, their hosts were still Belisarians. Too much credit could not be afforded. But perhaps it was alright to look upon the performance and realize that not every wrong needed to be countered, or, at least, not immediately or with great fury.

The princess' arms, Sehesi realized later, never left hers.

[Fahran]

Zahra al-Yamtar Jewelers
Alexandropolis, Mesogeia

"Your gem-cutters have outdone themselves, Rameshwar," Haytham observed, "This piece is exquisite." The prince's tone remained even and quiet despite the faint lilt of excitement that pervaded each word. He carefully set the necklace down on the glass table.

The light from the chandelier played tricks with the diamonds, chosen in honor of Elena's diamond jubilee, giving the illusion of azure flames dancing wildly within. A lion's head of white gold held the largest diamond fixed between its jaws, with two smaller pieces flickering where its eyes ought to have been. Along the length of the chain, an elegant interweaving of white and yellow gold, diamonds of a similar vivid blue peaked out, shimmering and radiant.

Rameshwar Narula looked pleased with himself. Haytham's business partner and right-hand man in Belisaria was a diminutive Ayvani with elegant manners, slender fingers, and sad, brown eyes. He had amassed hundreds of scars and calluses on his hands from his work, and had produced thousands of pieces of jewelry in the past three decades, but, without any doubt, the necklace that lay before them would serve as his magnum opus. Both of them knew that instinctively, and would have known it even if they had been less astute in their craft.

"You honor me, my prince." Rameshwar beamed.

"Even as your service has brought me honors," Haytham replied, his tone magnanimous. He clasped Rameshwar's shoulder gently. "If I succeed in my endeavors today," he said, "You'll have a hundred orders to follow this one, and I'll double your commission on any that come from the Mesogeian nobility."

"The clinking of coins makes a pretty music," Rameshwar chuckled, "You have my gratitude, my prince, though I'm certain my daughters will thank you even more loudly. Jahanara has been looking at universities, and, in truth, the cost makes even a man of such means as myself go weak in the knees."

Haytham tried and failed to conceal a smirk. "She's a clever girl. I'm sure she'll receive scholarships aplenty. What does she plan to study?"

"Psychology," Rameshwar groaned, "I've tried to talk her out of it, but you know how she is. Stubborn, like her mother." He wore a frown, but a distinguishable shiver of pride rang in his voice.

"Daughters. What are you going to do?" Haytham asked with a weary shrug.

"Between her and Amita? Pull out my hair," Rameshwar answered.

Haytham laughed. It was a resplendent sound, full and throaty, but when he finally spoke a timbre of grief flickered beneath the words. "I've half a mind to join you, but I suspect baldness would not become me."

"How fares Malîn?" Rameshwar ventured, "Is she still-"

"She still wears her mourning vestments and refuses to be consoled," Haytham sighed. For a moment, the natural, piercing melancholy of the Gharbiyyun fell over him like an engrossing shroud, the self-same sorrow that attended doves cooing amid the branches of a moringa or that undulated and boomed in the Khaliji songs so popular among sailors and pearl-divers. Then, the moment passed, and he was but a mere man again.

"She loved that boy more than I supposed," Haytham confessed ruefully, "It torments me to see her so unhappy."

"My condolences, my prince," Rameshwar said quietly, "If I can render any service..."

"Perhaps you can." Haytham nodded in response. "You shall have to attend me at Anemenos soon. It's been far too long since we've talked of art over a mug of spiced maifa and pinch of hashish. Bring the girls as well. Having them around might lift Malîn's spirits. She did once confide to me that she thought of your Jahanara as a little sister of sorts. And I would give all the diamonds in Mzanzi to hear that girl laughing again."

Rameshwar inclined his head. "I'm at your service, my prince."

"If only the nobles at court had half so much loyalty," Haytham japed. "I'll need box for the necklace," he added, "Ebony, carved with leopards rampant, suits, I think. A princely box for a princely gift."

The veteran jeweler snapped his fingers, prompting a younger Mesogeian man to appear, and motioned towards the piece. Within five minutes, it had been stored in an opulent carved chest of varnished of dark wood with honey tones gleaming beneath. Thus armed, Haytham sauntered out to meet his waiting limousine.

As he stepped into the car from bustling street, Haytham was greeted by three faces. He noticed Dionysios's tanned skin, hazel eyes, and wispy golden curls first. His paramour wore a smug, self-satisfied grin beneath a committed mustache that glinted a blonde bleached almost grey by time. The Mesogeian artist was strewn lackadaisically across his chair, one hand tossed over a headrest. A cigar was pinched between his fingers, and the acrid scent of ash and tar drifted on the air.

"I trust you've concluded all that diamond business then, my sweet love?" Dionysios yawned.

Haytham flashed a knowing smile. "For the time being."

"Ah! Wonderful!" Dionysios raved, "Splendid! Capital! I mean to wash away the sour after-taste of words like 'responsibilities' and 'decorum' with Malvasia and Kommenidouka in abundance!"

"It's best I stick to Retsina," Haytham replied, "It's light and refreshing, and I mustn't be out of sorts when I present our gift to the Empress."

"Retsina!" Dionysios spat, "Bah! The Devil take Retsina! It tastes of pine tar and horse piss. It's no wonder these blue-bloods are so stiff and miserable, drinking that swill."

"This is a diplomatic event, my love," Haytham reasoned, "It wouldn't do to insult the hospitality of our hosts. Besides, it's much too early in the day for mulled wine and I've developed a fondness for Retsina of late."

Dionysios made a face like he had bitten into an especially sour lemon. "You have a fondness for Retsina now?" he hissed dramatically, "And I thought I loved you."

"You do," Haytham retorted, "Implacably."

"The one philistine I abide," Dionysios teased, taking a long drag from his cigar.

"Do you treat all your highborn patrons with such petulance?" Haytham scoffed, "It's no wonder you lounge about my manse all day for months on end."

"I generally treat them worse," Dionysios explained matter-of-factly, "It gives them the impression that I'm a sort of tortured genius. Nobody wants their portrait taken by a painter who isn't a temperamental punce. If I show up drunk, they sometimes pay me double my original commission. If I swear off portraiture halfway through and they have to drag me from my studio, they pay me triple."

"Enlightening," said Haytham, "And here I took you for a kept man." He glanced across to his niece as his favorite rambled, expressing his opinions on being 'kept' in exceedingly colorful and witty language.

His niece's high, delicate cheekbones, button nose, and tumble of copper hair were concealed behind a pale, translucent veil woven with scenes of forlorn love from history and literature. Above the gentle slope of Malîn's crown, Khairunissa wandered the eaves of strumming her lute, her tinkling voice tinged with sorrow. Across her cheeks, Ruqayya bint As'ad climbed wearily up hills before sinking in a weeping heap in a well-watered vale, wretched on the banks of a wadi. At her dimpled chin, Lady Radra sat pining many a long-hour, dreaming up verses to make the cheeks bright as embers. The images, woven of sheer white, grey, and cream fabrics, grew more intricate the longer one peered at them, but, in passing, they could have been missed altogether - a mirage carried off by the low light of an evening salon.

Beneath the veil, light and delicate, his niece wore a stoic expression, her gentle, amber eyes perceiving the coldness and sharp edges and small cruelties of the world. Not for the first time, Haytham wondered if he had not made a grave mistake in ordering these garments for her. A year of mourning was not at all uncommon, but she had grown quiet and sullen, seldom smiling and never laughing. When she took up the harp, which she had mastered with a single-minded passion as a teenager, the melodies she conjured whispered of her loss, weaving a spell about the room would melt a heart of stone. Gone were the happy folk jigs, long-forgotten the concertos that made the feet glide effortlessly across oaken floors. Malîn was consumed by thoughts of death and gloom and transience such that she could think of little else, and it made him afraid for her.

"I do not think the two of us have taken in a garden in some time," Haytham thought aloud.

"My apologies, uncle." Malîn's voice came husky and soft. "I know I have been difficult of late."'

Haytham's own tone was cinnamon, allspice, and warm cider. "Never apologize, my dear girl. You have endured what no one ever should, you and your mother both. If you should desire to hide away from prying eyes a little longer, I can arrange it."

Malîn shook her head slowly. "I want to see the daffodils if they're in season," she insisted, "And I think it might do my heart some good to take in the fresh air and listen to the nightingales as we stroll. We can talk of Ibn Ghufran and your baubles and trinkets, uncle, and of concerts. Everything-"

Haytham reached out and squeezed her hand even as her mother wrapped an arm around her. Dionysios afforded her a sympathetic look. A low sob wracked his niece's delicate frame.

"I am not who I have been," she despaired.

"We know, my sweet," Lady Gulnarîn soothed her, "We know. It's alright."

The girl recovered quickly enough, her quiet grace, albeit still heavy with sadness, reasserting itself. She nodded at her mother's mutterings several times. "I'm fine, momma," she whispered, "I'm fine. I promise. Don't fret over me so."

"We will see the daffodils," Haytham affirmed, "Or the Chrysanthemums if we do not find them in good attendance."

Malîn smiled softly at the promise.

---

Mangana Imperial Palace Gardens
Alexandropolis, Mesogeia

The Fahrani delegation had arrived late. Fashionably late according to Prince Haytham, though Dionysios would contend that, with everyone still sober and stuffy, they had arrived much too early.

A waiter offered them glasses of chilled Retsina as they strolled farther into the gardens, which Haytham, Gulnarîn, and Malîn graciously accepted. Dionysios made a grimace as if to say "I told you so" and wandered off to pilfer as much Kommenidouka as he could while avoiding the scrutiny of the imperial security detail. He soon became embroiled in a less than eager conversation with an aging noblewoman who wanted to commission a portrait for her grand niece's debut, much to Haytham's amusement.

They left the increasingly exasperated artist behind to cut a wide circuit around the gardens and take in the restive sights under the glowing light of erected torches. Haytham and Gulnarîn took generous sips of their pine-resin wine, savoring the unique flavor, which was not quite foreign to their palettes. Malîn was more moderate, scarcely partaking of the refreshments. She drifted from path to path transfixed by the flowers and the music and the ambience, seeming to lose herself. Indeed, she lingered so long watching squirrels at play that she fell behind her mother and uncle, who walked ahead arm in arm, nodding to the dignitaries they met. A particularly frosting greeting was reserved for the Mutulese dignitaries.

This went on for a long while until a voice called out to Haytham.

"Your Highness?" A young, serious-looking man stood before him. Wrinkles lined his his forehead and he had bags under his shrewd eyes. He wore a well-fitted cream-colored suit in the Belisarian style, almost a twin to the one Dionysios was wearing. His stature was unimpeachable, and his tone carried a resolute strength.

"I do not believe I know your face," Prince Haytham mused, "You’re accent is Kembesan, correct?"

"Yes," the younger man replied, a puzzled expression flitting across his face. "I’m the Abētōhun."

"Ah," Haytham said, "That does explain it. The scions of the House of Yegidoni seldom wander this far afield. As a consequence, I can't place names to faces very often. My personal theory is that you’re hiding the gardens of paradise south of the River Fénya and thus never have cause to venture abroad. In any case, you’re well met, Your Highness."

The Abētōhun gawked at him for a moment. "I’m sorry," he stuttered, "I was expecting more severe speech given-"

"Your father’s war?" Haytham asked the question mildly, his expression almost bored. "If I faulted sons and daughters for the sins of their parents, my position would be far more tenuous than it is, my dear boy. Besides, I do not expect your troops will endure in their occupation long. The Charneans certainly didn’t."

The man wore a sad, thoughtful expression, as if he were contemplating whether to say something weighty. One of the Abētōhun's bodyguards fixed Haytham in a hostile stare and began stalking towards them.

"Anyway…" the Abētōhun said at last, his tone anguished, "I just wanted to apologize for the devastation we’ve visited on your country. There can be no excuse and if I could make amends, and do so honorably…"

"I trust, Your Highness," Haytham replied, "That one day, when this ugliness has passed us and you sit upon the throne that is your birthright, the words you have spoken here today will bind you like golden chains, even as they reverberate through history, making chroniclers and scholars go weak in the knees." He flashed the Crown Prince a reassuring smile.

For a moment, the Abētōhun looked like he wanted to say more, but his bodyguards soon arrived. "Your Highness," they acknowledged him brusquely before slipping into Kembesan. Haytham could not understand most of the conversation, but it concluded with them almost dragging the apologetic prince away, back towards the throng of the guests.

"What do you make of all that?" Gulnarîn asked in hushed Karduene, "It's very queer."

"Queer indeed," Haytham agreed, "I thought I would find myself in the company of Mesogeians, Ghantar, or Latins tonight. A repentant Kembesan prince, on the other hand..."

"Aren't all Kembesans repentant?," Gulnarîn jested dryly, "You were courteous to him."

"Of course." Haytham fixed Gulnarîn in a formulated stare. "It's a garden party. It wouldn't do to make a scene. I wouldn't want to draw the ire of the Empress or upset the other guests. Besides, I trust the prince will remember a little kindness far more than an uncouth word or shouting. Did you get a look at him? He's not been well-kept."

"Perhaps it's guilt," Gulnarîn reasoned.

"Perhaps," Haytham assented, "But we should resume our stroll. It wouldn't do to make a scene."

Arm in arm, Haytham and Gulnarîn wandered back towards the bulk of the guests, stopping to fetch Malîn, and proceeding to rub shoulders with their fellows until the event had wound down. They did this not quite with merriment, as such a thing was impossible under the circumstances, but, in truth, if Haytham was not merry then few could have mistaken him for sullen. He japed. He talked of music and art and theater. He made warm acquaintances, paying due deference to both the women of the hour and the hospitality of the Mesogeian court in terms that both flattered and possessed the ring of veracity.

[Mesogeia]

Boukoleon Palace, Great Sacred Palace Complex, Alexandropolis


When Her Imperial Highness the Grand Princess Mariana and her husband Prince Robert of Ghant had received the handwritten invitation to attend her mother’s jubilee celebrations Mariana was overwhelmed with joy to return to the country of her birth. The last time Mariana could remember being in her homeland she had arrived on a far less happy occasion, the untimely death of her father his late Imperial Highness The Prince Consort Manuel in the summer of 2016.

Whereas the imperial court in the summer of 2016 had been a somber place, its halls and chambers decorated with black and dark colors to symbolize a court in mourning for the passing of their patriarch now the imperial court that Mariana and Robert were honored guests at was alive with excitement each hall, chamber, and reception room more lavishly decorated and more brightly colored then the preceding room.

Mariana awoke in a pink colored bedchamber in the appropriately named Porphyry suite so named for the fact that the five rooms, consisting a bedchamber, dressing room, drawing room, dining room, and antechamber were decorated with rich shades of purple silk, tapestries, and wallpaper alongside porphyry marble columns and a well polished floor.

Mariana had slept in the bedchamber with her husband Prince Robert over forty years ago on the night before she had departed Alexandropolis for the imperial court of Ghish. The court of Ghish was nothing like the imperial court in Alexandropolis whereas both courts were great cultural centers in their own ways, Mariana upon her arrival in Ghish found the court there to be decadently debauched and just as extravagant while the court of Alexandropolis for all its opulence and splendor was as rigid and unchanging as ever.

Everything in Ghish appeared to be so modern when compared to Alexandropolis. There were no chamber eunuchs to attend upon her in Ghish, nor was the court etiquette as strict, and the courtiers that revolved around the Ghantish Imperial family as overbearing as those that formed a wall of mystery around the Mesogeian Imperial Family; many a Mesogeian Grand Prince or Princess would have found Ghish to have been a breath of fresh air.

As Mariana slowly raised herself from her slumber a chambermaid entered the room, after a deep curtsey the maid marched over to the closed window overlooking the outer gardens of the nearby Gynaikeion Palace.

Mariana sighed to see a familiar sight, the daily opening of the widows that took place every morning at exactly the same hour for as long as she could remember; a time when all the windows in the second story of the palace would be opened to let in natural air for a period of about four hours after which time they would be closed for four hours, opened for four more, until they were closed once more at around seven in the evening.

Mariana looked down at her sleeping husband, he no doubt would be suffering from an immense hangover from the heavy drinking he had been doing in the last couple of days. She sighed to herself again. “At least he’s somewhere I can watch over him. I hate to hear what my father would have said if he had seen him yesterday.”

Mariana knew exactly what her father would have said if he had taken one whiff of his drunken son-in law he would have raised hell.

Mariana could hear her father’s voice now. “You drunken, sorry excuse of man….”

“A man that can’t even handle his own alcohol can’t be expected to manage his own household, let alone his own family.”

Mariana’s late father Manuel was from the old school of Mesogeian men, the type that believed strongly in a man’s place being as the head of the family, the final say in all decisions concerning the members of the family; something he had to reconfigure when it came to his being the consort to a reigning empress.

Mariana had fond memories of her childhood, she vividly remembered her father being the dominant force at home while his wife the Empress reigned over the millions of Mesogeian empire; she remembered the births of younger siblings, the marriages of her aunts.

While Mariana remembered what life was like in her youth, the formally warm room quickly cooled from the light crack in the window. Mariana knew the cool breeze would no doubt wake her husband.

******
The Hall of Private Audiences, Triconchos Palace, Great Sacred Palace

After a quick breakfast the Empress was dressed in a silk day court dress decorated with gold embroidered depictions of golden lions rampant and griffins passant in preparation for her reception of congratulations from the representatives of the most powerful and prestigious noble houses in the empire.

By the time the Empress entered the Hall of Private Audiences the hall had quickly swelled with high ranking nobles patiently waiting personally congratulate the Empress on the 60th anniversary of her accession; many of them anxious to be seen at court and ingratiate themselves with the Empress and the younger generation of the imperial family.

While the members of the ten subordinate royal houses were received by the Empress in the Hall of Mousai, the previous day tradition still demanded that they be represented at the Reception of Congratulations by the Nobility so therefore standing amongst the assemblage of high personages were the twelve Chief Marshals of Nobility representing the Kingdoms of Ardistan, Kappadokia, Isauris, Oreineia, Vantagallia, Pharosia, Iberion, Farsia, Paralia, Transigozania, Aparnia, Phocaea, Troiana, and Anatolia, (although the final two had no King as they were directly apart of the Crownlands subject to direct rule by the Mesogeian sovereign since historic times) all of them members of the nobility elected from the nobles in their respective regions to represent their King.

In addition to the chief marshals of nobility the great grandees of the empire (princes, dukes, and marquesses (both Marzbans, and lesser ranked Kleisourarches), and highly ranked counts filled the the most prestigious positions at the front of the hall closet to the dais and the imperial family. Directly in front of the imperial dais located halfway between the Empress and the first ranks of the high personages in attendance was a table upon which were placed twelve chalices representing the twelve kingdoms each bearing earth and water from their respective regions, a symbol of submission of vassalage to the imperial crown since the days of the Azagartian king.

While Viscounts, lords and untitled members of the nobility were generally not permitted to attend court except for the annual court balls (when attendance was required) or unless they held office at court, the Empress had given special orders to allow as many of her people to attend the receptions of congratulations spread throughout the week.

Also amongst the crowds were included the intellectual elite of the empire, which included the Presidents of the twelve most prestigious centers of higher education in the country along with honored pupils and staff from the Imperial Universities of Mouseion, Alexandropolis, Parisia, Ctesiphon, Gondishapur, Pharopoli, Heliopolis, Anaitis, Kallirroa, Marakanda, Triaditza, and Pantikapaion.

The Presidents of the Imperial Academies of Mesogeian Language, Fine Arts, Humanities, Music & Dance, Jurisprudence in addition to the Academies for War and Naval Sciences. The most notable schools for the education of the youth were represented as well, including the chief boarding schools in the country such as Magna Aula, Derkos, Tzykanion, and Mieza, notorious feeder schools for the top universities in the empire; the Imperial Page School, Imperial Dabirestan “School of Scribes”, the Imperial Herbedestan of Aspadana, the Imperial Patriarchal School, and the Noble Court Ladies Institute.

The Empress had only just finished accepting the congratulations of the nobility when a handsome man dressed in traditional Farsian garb entered the chamber; he was the epitome of tall dark and handsome being several shades darker then most of the nobles present. The man bowed thrice as was custom, performing the traditional proskynesis rather awkwardly. After this he rose and introduced himself. “Your Imperial Majesty, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Rustam Hatzidimitriou hailing from Chousa.”

“Ah yes Hatzidimitriou of Chousa.” the Megas Chilliarch grumbled under his breath, the head of the Imperial Chancellery knew all about the Hatzidimitriou family of Chousa and their propensity for causing “trouble” and being unrepentant republicans, it was after all his duty to oversee such matters.

“We are very pleased to welcome you, Mister Hatzidimitriou.” The Empress smiled as she extended her hand outwards. “We hope you will enjoy your stay here in Alexandropolis.”

The young man bent down and kissed the Empress’ hand. “I wish I could have brought my father here with me, ma’am. He would have treasured this moment seeing you; but he had a very bad fall and could not make the journey.”

“He fondly remembers being in Parisia for Your Majesty’s coronation when he was a boy. I will have to tell him that the image of your likeness on the banknotes does not do your majesty justice. You are far kinder in person.”

“You will have to send my well wishes to your father for a speedy recovery from his accident.” The Empress beamed with joy, she truly enjoyed hearing such personable stories from her people, it made her feel so honored.

“Are you here with other members of your family?” the Empress added. “Your mother? Or Siblings?”

“Alas my mother passed away when my brother and I were very young.” Rustam replied.

“Ahh yes, your brother…Leo Hatzidimitiou is it?” the Megas Chilliarch responded, a look of disdain written all across his face.

“Yes, that's my brother.” Rustam replied. “He writes for The Estia “The Hearth”, a popular newspaper throughout the empire.

“We know all about that sorry excuse of a paper.” The Megas Chilliarch shot back coldly. ‘Your brother’s work in that rag leaves much to be desired. It's nothing but gossip and lies! But that is to be expected from a troublesome family such as yours.”

“Was your father not fired from his position at his former employer for making lewd remarks about Her Majesty; your grandfather banished north during the last years of Her Majesty’s late father’s reign for conspiracy to cause dangerous disorder; your great grandfather locked away in an asylum for his ludicrous behavior; your great-great grandfather sentenced to death for an attempt on the life of her late Majesty Empress Theodora III having been spared this fate only by the grace and mercy of her late sovereign majesty and instead banished north.”

“Your family is well noted for its notorious and dangerous behavior, you are far too young now, but I’m certain it will only be a matter of time before you join their ill reputable ranks.” the Megas Chilliarch added, the vitriol practically dripping from his lips.

“Your Most Gloriousness! That is quite enough.” The Empress said firmly without raising her voice, as she raised her hand. “The past actions or transgressions of this young man’s family are of no account here. This young man is here by his own accord.”

Immediately the bitter courtier fell silent.

“Your Majesty please accept my apology.” Rustam replied.

“Mister Hatzidimitriou, I assure you there is nothing that you need to apologize for; nor should you be one that should be making the apology in the first place.” the Empress smiled.

“I’m told by the President of the Imperial University of Gondishapur that you are top in your class for law philosophy. That is truly a marvelous feat, the school there has rather good legal faculty I'm told. He also says that you are on the short list for a full ride to the Imperial Academy of Jurisprudence here in Alexandropolis.”

“I’m sure your father is very proud of your accomplishments.” the Empress continued.

“Yes ma’am, my father is very pleased.”

“Might I ask what field you plan on going into once you have completed your studies?” she added

“My father wants me to go into private law so that I might be a legal philosopher or private solicitor for some corporation or wealthy individual, but I am more so leaning towards the public field of barrister or perhaps going into politics and representing my district in the Synedrion, and hopefully one day Mesazon.”

“You would make an excellent politician.” The Empress replied. “You appear to have a very good head on your shoulders, not to mention anyone that can solicit such an outburst from the Megas Chilliarch and still maintain composure will surely know how to handle himself in the halls of the Synedrion.” the Empress chuckled a little.

‘Thank you, ma’am.” Rustam smiled. “One day it would please me very much for your majesty to call upon me to form a government.”

[Mesogeia]

Gynaikeion Palace, Great Sacred Palace Complex, Alexandropolis

Meanwhile elsewhere in her suite in the Gynaikeion palace, her Imperial Highness Margarita, the Duchess of Silingia-Marlburg by marriage and an imperial Grand Princess by birth was preparing for a ladies only reception in the great hall of the Gynaikeion Palace.

Even after her marriage to the Gariman Duke, Margarita had insisted on continuing to use the HIH style alongside the HRH style of her husband much to the chagrin of those who thought she was a snob, but she didn't care claiming that as Grand Princess she was entitled to use the higher style for life.

The luncheon reception in the great hall of the Gynaikeion Palace was to include the Empress, Grand Princesses, Princesses of the Imperial blood, regional Queens, the Grand Mistress of the Court, high ranking court ladies and noblewomen with a right to attend court.

The current Gynaikeion Palace was built on the site of an older palace of the same name in the late eleventh century during the rule of Chalkidinos dynasty, since that time in a span of over nine hundred years thousands of women, children, and eunuchs had lived and died within the walls of the Gynaikeion. With its thick walls, latticed windows, and narrow corridors the Gynaikeion was arguably the most secure portion of the entire complex.

Included amongst the five hundred to six hundred rooms of the Gynaikeion are the apartments reserved for the Mahd-e Olia, currently occupied by Her Imperial Highness Consort Theophano Begum; the richly adorned imperial delivery chamber with its purple colored furnishings and gold railings for “the viewing”; the imperial palace nursery and the adjacent apartments of those attached to it including the Chief Nurturer “Head Governess”, and the Chief Tutor; the palace school for the Noble Court Ladies Institute; and various other nondescript rooms and chambers for the staff and lesser members of Gynaikeion.

Growing up as a middle child Margarita often found herself overlooked by her father and mother; Elena the eldest child was the golden child having been incapable of any wrongdoing in either her father or stepmother’s eyes; Berenice was the great beauty of the court in her youth before she married the Nekulturnyan Tsar; and little Irene was so sweet and kind before she married a Ghantish Prince.

What was there for Margarita, she wasn’t well versed and talented like Elena, nor was she as lovely as Berenice, nor as kind and giving as Irene. Instead Margarita indulged herself in court gossip; it wasn't long before she herself had become the subject of vicious court gossip. Amongst certain elite circles rumors began swirling around that Margarita had given her virginity to some low-ranked soldier; or some noble of ill repute. With each time the story was told the list of Margarita’s lovers kept getting larger and larger until finally the rumors had reached the ears of the late Emperor.

After all those years Margarita still remembered how her mother Empress Stateira stormed into her chambers seething with anger and rage; she was certain that her mother would have ripped her to shreds if her father had not been there. The look on her mother’s face would have made even Medusa shrink in horror.

“You have disgraced the dynasty, behaving like a common WHORE!” Stateira had raged. “A Grand Princess whoring herself out to low born soldiers and disreputable persons, who could have thought of such a thing?!”

“What man will want you now?! Now your only hope is the convent or to marry some wealthy foreigner who won’t know about your debauched behavior.”

Margarita laughed to herself when she remembered her mother’s words, oh how they had cut like a knife. Even now they stung……

Her sick father refused to believe the rumors, but when he died months later the court whispered that he had died of a broken heart due to the rumors surrounding his young daughter.

Even after decades away from court, Margarita still couldn't stand the sight of half of those soar faced aristocratic ladies who had bitterly gossiped about her right up into the moment she walked down the aisle to marry her late husband John, the Duke of Silingia-Marlburg.


*******
Assembly of the Nobility, Mangana District, Alexandropolis

Located on the northern end of the Tzykanion Leoforos in the Mangana neighborhood only a short distance from the Imperial Palace of Mangana on a corner of St George's Square, stood the Assembly of the Nobility, a four-story yellow colored columned building built in the neoclassical Alcaenian style in the late 1700s.

The Assembly of Nobility was one of the few remaining vestiges of the old guard still remaining in the neighborhood of Mangana now awash with the flamboyant and vulgar mansions of the nouveau riche, those families made rich at the turn of the nineteenth century from a rise in industry and commerce. Complete with a ballroom, dining hall, gymnasia, bathhouse, private member rooms, chovgan field, ball court, and so on, the Alexandropolis Assembly of Nobility was the most exclusive clubhouse in the country having been closed off to those lacking a proper aristocratic background.

The Assembly of Nobility of Alexandropolis had only recently opened its doors to non-aristocrats making an exception for those generous persons who possessed an ungodly amount of wealth with which to use on the Assembly’s exorbitant membership fees and annual donations as a way to make up for their poor breeding and lack of a reputable name.

That evening the ballroom of the Assembly of Nobility had been completely transformed into an enchanted wonderland. The Assembly’s great hall was decorated with rich tapestries depicting scenes from Mesogeian mythology and various fairy tales, while the carpets and rugs that covered the floors were designed to appear as if they were forest foliage. Hundreds of fruit trees had been brought in from northern Scipia and the Ozeros at the expense of the Assembly to transform the marbled hall into a scene right out of a fairy tale. The sweet aroma of oranges and lemons filled the air to mix with the haute couture fragrances that the aristocratic noble ladies bathed in.

The members of the Imperial family arrived at the Assembly of the Nobility at precisely nine thirty in the evening. The Empress was dressed as Anahita, the Goddess of wisdom, statecraft, and war strategy in a costume complete with a golden helm, silk wings, and a long sarissa from the Imperial Armoury.

Other members of the Imperial family and guests were dressed as djinn, peris, mythological heroes, nymphs, nereids, satyrs, centaurs, fabulous birds and other characters from Mesogeian folklore and so forth.

Upon her arrival at the Assembly the Empress was greeted by His Most Gloriousness Andreas Daras-Doukas-Atabek, The Duke of Khvarvaran who presented the Empress with the traditional greeting of bread and salt upon a silver plate. “Your Imperial Majesty. Welcome to the Assembly of Nobility of your imperial capital. You honor us with your presence.”

“Your Most Gloriousness I’m very pleased to be here this evening.” The Empress took the bread and sprinkled salt onto it. After this she broke the bread into two parts and handed one half back to the Duke of Khvarvaran who ate the other piece as was custom.

After this the Duke expressed his loyalty by reading a prepared speech expressing his loyalty to the sovereign, the dynasty and to the empire. This was followed by the playing of God’s Grace Aids the Empress, the national anthem of the Empire.

After this the members of the Imperial family, and the assembled nobility lined up according to strict court etiquette, the Empress on the arm of His Imperial Majesty Tsar Alexis V; the Despot on the arm of Her Imperial Highness Consort Theophano Begum; while the other Grand Princes and Grand Princesses took the arm of high ranking foreign guests and nobles.

Moving in a slow procession they danced the elaborate saximos, which was more like a stylized walk than an actual dance. After the Saximos, the guests danced to more lively dances such as the geranos, the syrtos, and the ballos, while an orchestra played classical Mesogeian musical pieces.

[Itayana]

08.11.2022
Imperial Court Theater
Alexandropolis, Mesogeia

Two days for the priestess and the Air Marshal passed without many things of note. The few talks with any delegations they met in the garden party or while Christians were attending the mess, were small and of no significance.

Now, late into day two, the priestess and the Air Marshal were a bit in the depth of their box at the Court Theater, still seeing the play but in comfort shadow. Kayo was wearing her dress uniform on the occasion. Her white tunic had four stars on each sleeve, two dark red epaulettes rested on its shoulders and a row of seven medals adorned her left breast. Two vertical stripes in dark red were running up the sides of her long skirt, under which were heavy parade boots, also white. And finally, a dark red kepi was resting on her knees. Ma'ana was in her dazzle-painted robes, only these were without a cape so while the face was obscured by the mask, the head was bare, chestnut hair waving in a rough bob. On her ears were ear-cuffs with crescent-shaped pendants.

The priestess wasn't following the play. Instead, she moved her mask slightly to the right and watched Marshal. Even if she was blunt, thin lines of profile and usually sad eyes betrayed her roots to those who knew, and Ma'ana knew. She wasn't following the play either, giving her glass of whiskey a sad, disappointed and slightly tired look. It was much stronger than burukutu, more like a coolant from her I-21s. Ma'ana watched her since the mid-first act and it was closing the third act.

Finally, their eyes met and Ma'ana gave in to curiosity.

"Kayo, you've been looking like that for two weeks." She whispered. "You know I can hear you out?"

Marshal sighed and downed the glass. "It's elections in Airashe, Ma'a-ana." She whispered, stuttering. "And the reorganization."
"What reorganization?"

Kayo put a glass down, leaned to the other and put a hand on hers. "The Staff of the Air Fleet is going to take two-engined bombers away from me, all of them."
"All of them?" Ma'ana turned head to the other, staring wide-eyed and mouth agape. "But... what are you going to be left with?"

Kayo rapped fingers slightly. "Simple. That'd be the 9th Wing of Elatian mules, Velikoslavian spears and four squadrons of flying batteries for escort." She whispered. "About a hundred planes, I think."

"Sounds like a demotion three ranks down to me. You are barely getting any new planes and now they are stripping you of your best craft and crews. What for?"
"They think those should be reorganized to better coordinate with the army."
"But didn't you say that─"

"I did." The priestess felt Marshals fingers rapping on her hand. "Truth be told, I don't think they are wrong, and the way they want is fine with me. Even commanders are staying."
"But you don't want to let your air wings slip between your fingers?"

The silence was interrupted by a round of applause, to which both joined. Kayo and Ma'ana thought of the same question, one to ask, the other to hear:

"Who would?"

The play started the second act and neither wanted to carry on with this unpleasant talk; and yet, the priestess' thoughts were now all revolving around the reorganization. Even if Kayo fought in the Central Itayana War, she owed her position entirely to the Sun Manifested. Air Marshals were usually in their forties; she was 32. The priestess could only overhear about inner politicking of the Solar Air Fleet, a mess no less than its overblown plane roster. Kayo's command was like a white elephant, a safe place to put someone promoted due to the requests one didn't want to refuse. Or so the Solar Air Fleet thought.

But Kayo didn't share their sentiment. The Sun Manifested genes evidently carried on that boredom and remote bases create ideas, and connections with her former air group wingmates, with the technical priesthood of both JBAC and the Burning Sun, and a friendship with Grand Marshal Sarimjatau of the Naitonal Army did much of the rest. Now, what did she feel with her fleet being taken away while she was on a pointless mission in a country manifesting the philistine vieux riche pomposity?

She was snapped back by Kayo's whisper.

"Elections, Ma'ana." She said. "What do you make of them?"
Momentarily confused, the priestess wanted to ask which ones, yet Kayo overtook her on that. "Airashe."

Airashe, the capital of the rebellious East, saw the funeral of their leading nomarch, same age as the autocrat of Yanbango, just a month ago. Ma'ana and her WO volunteered to take off their Harpy Eagle to bomb the funeral procession in an act of disrespect to the dead traitor, yet it required an order stamped with the seal of the Sun Manifested and verified in the Chancellery. The order never came. They stayed on the ground.

"And what can I make of them? Enlighten me."

Kayo smiled, first time in the entire play. "They are selecting their future, Ma'ana, even if they don't know it. I trust I told you about their reformists?"
"Something of sort. Remind me."

"For the past years they did nothing but sold grain, let the trains pass and invested most of the profits anywhere abroad, year after year." The priestess nodded; Kayo continued. "A group of reformists issued an article, a program that made it up to father's desk, appallingly. They want to reverse the course."

"What are they hoping to achieve?" Ma'ana scoffed. "We're so far ahead of them, only the lack of order stops us from claiming the East."
"Not as far ahead as you think, as it turns out." Kayo shook head. "I was told our businesses made forays into the East in the past years, including KIMC."
"Those scoundrels!" The priestess hissed. "What do they think they are doing?"

Kayo stroke the other's hand. "KIMC tries to get younger hands and export older machinery. The rest... What do the usual businesses do? Suck the life and creativity out of people's labor?"
"But what's the deal with them and elections? I don't follow you at all, Kayo."

"You will in a moment." Marshal assumed a mentoring tone for a second. "They settle in the governorate capitals, especially in Airashe and Yanomi. Some surely must have made a contact with the reformists and the remnants of the Solar Way. Now one of them makes a bid for power in Airashe, and with a lot of popular support, I was told."

"So what you want to say is..."
"If the reformists win, Ma'ana, the East will be wide open for the Autocracy. And because it conflicts with the nomarchs' usual policy, it will tear the East apart in three years. We will only have to help the right people."

Ma'ana looked at her with obvious skepticism on her pale face. "Nomarchs will not let them win."
"In which case it will be our turn, my dear."

The two didn't need to share any more words, so they watched the final movement of the final act and even if they didn't follow the rest, the two thought they somehow got the happy ending.

"Good play, wasn't it?" Kayo asked, her voice mostly sunk in the final applause.
Ma'ana wordlessly nodded.

[Tarsas]

Assembly of the Nobility, Mangana District, Alexandropolis

The car hummed gently as it accelerated away from the intersection, signaling the looming arrival of the Velikoslavian party to the Assembly of the Nobility, where the masquerade ball was being held. Alexis and Paul were both in the car, along with Paul’s mother, Theodora, Tsaritsa of Velikoslavia. They were on track to arrive at the destination precisely at 9:30, where the extended Imperial Family would all enter the ballroom at once. Alexis was to escort Empress Elena herself, which was a task he had quite enjoyed so far. They had engaged in enlightening conversation during the theater play and subsequent events of the day.

Tonight was to be a costume masquerade and each of them had picked a costume, procured locally. Paul was going as Dagan, the first recognized ruler of what would become Velikoslavia. He was dressed in traditional Telerian garb and a replica of an iron war helm. Alexis was going as Kolvur, the old Telerian king of the gods and was wearing a robe with different hues of purple draped in fur and an iron horned helmet carved with runes. The Grand Princess Theodora was going as Kolvur’s wife, the goddess Astrid. She wore robes of pink draped in mink fur and a golden mask with deer antlers.

Young Paul, heir to the Velikoslavian throne, interrupted his father’s thoughts. “Father, I was wondering, why didn’t we pay homage to Granny E?”, he asked, using the moniker his siblings had coined for their great grandmother on Theodora’s side. Paul ducked as his father raised an eyebrow at him in an attempt to dodge what was coming. Alexis responded by gently slapping his leg instead. His father never seriously hit him or any of his siblings but he would occasionally take a gentle swat at them to emphasize a correction. His mother, Theodora snickered next to him at the use of the nickname. Never one for pomp and ceremony, she tended to be much more laid back about issues of court etiquette than his father.

“Paul, I understand your siblings use these terms to differentiate between relatives, but you’re fourteen now and you need to be using proper honorifics, especially with Empress Elena.” His family always said he had inherited his mother’s headstrong and often dismissive attitude towards court affairs, something both of his parents were working to correct, especially because of who he was. It was further exacerbated lately by recent events at court.. “We didn’t pay homage to the Empress during her audience because we are of equal rank. It would not be proper for us to participate in that ceremony because we are of equal court rank.”

Paul frowned slightly when his father had swatted him but gave otherwise no reaction. “Sorry, father. We sent a gift to her, didn’t we?”

“That we did, I had the foundry produce a special saber just for this occasion.” The Imperial Foundry was formerly the main producer of canons, muskets, and other firearms during the height of Velikoslavia. As military technology advanced and left it behind, it was transitioned to a small workshop that produced ceremonial weapons and custom jewelry for the ruling family and the aristocracy. The saber presented to Empress Elena featured a blade made of a steel and titanium alloy, encrusted with gemstones and ornate carvings of ancient Mesogeian battles across the blade. A scabbard of gold and platinum adorned with sapphires protected the blade and the hilt was carved in the shape of a prancing elk.

Paul adjusted his helmet for what felt like the four hundredth time since they had started their journey. He didn’t even want to wear the stupid costume and play dress up for an evening but he knew his parents would insist. Paul opted to switch to Old Telerian from Velikud, just in case anyone was listening. All of the members of the nine houses spoke Old Telerian fluently and learning it was necessary for anyone who married into one. It was typical for high nobility to switch to Old Telerian in order to speak privately. It was spoken regularly in the estate’s of the nine, as well. “How many suitors am I going to have to gracefully turn down tonight, father?”, he stated with a hint of petulance to his tone. Paul had been cross ever since the garden party, where he had a host of other nobility inquire as to whether he “had someone special.” It was nauseating to be set on by the vain leeches seeking to elevate their own station at every event he attended.

His father frowned, stroking his smooth chin in thought. He had made sure he was clean shaven for the event. “Paul, I told you, neither your mother nor I had anything to do with all the noble girls sending suggestive comments your way. You will be one of the world’s most eligible bachelors in a few short years. Marrying you means marrying into a position of influence over an entire nation.”

Paul rolled his eyes and dropped his head back against the headrest. His father almost always had the same kind of response, dismissing his concerns and referencing his duty and suggestively telling him how he should feel about it. “I already know all of that. You’ve been telling me since I was five. It doesn’t really matter who approaches me anyway, because you’ll just arrange it all for me, I’m sure.”

Alexis fixed him with a hard stare. Paul wilted slightly under his gaze. “Theodora and I don’t have a history of making major life decisions for you, do we? I don’t know where you get off thinking we are going to start now. You will get a say in who you eventually are wed to.”

Paul grimaced, feeling a renewed sense of confidence, and returned his father’s stare. He was sick of it all; his duties, his role, what everyone required of him. He felt like he was going insane under the stares and the loaded questions and the suggestive statements of everyone around him. His brother, Nicholas, was far more of a socialite even at his tender age, excelling at everything he tried and impressing everyone at court. “I’m glad I’m the exception to the rule. Maybe you might spare some free will for Feodor and Anastasia. You have two other sons. Just give my job to Nick. He adores the attention and the questions. He excels at everything he tries. Why should I be forced to suffer in this position?”

His father just frowned, fixing him with a sympathetic stare. “I realize that this is a tough time for you. You’re growing into a man and the weight you’ve carried on your shoulders is a tough burden to bear. I’ve been in your position. I became monarch when I was not much older than you. I don’t want Nick as my heir, Paul, I want you. Nick is a lot like your Uncle August in personality even at his age and I expect him to adopt many of his values. You, however, are like me. You’re empathetic and you are much more in tune with your humanity. That is oftentimes one of the most important traits in a ruler.”

Paul turned to look out of the window at the passing city, propping his head on the glass. “I don’t know about that. I just want to go home back to the palace and be away from all of this. Even if you say you’re not marrying me off for political gain, it will always be a factor you consider in the back of your mind. You have to, it’s who we are, the ruling family of Velikoslavia.” His father fell silent and neither of them said much of anything for the remainder of the ride.

Paul had to admit, he did enjoy seeing his cousins on his grandmother’s side. His grandmother, Frederica, was the daughter of Peter of Garima, which put him directly related to the Gariman Royal Family. He hadn’t seen his great grandmother, Izara of Sydalon, so far nor any of his Sydalene cousins. With all the drama surrounding the Yarden Accords, he doubted Melisende was traveling much. He had seen his grandmother Sophia of Rhadenburg but had not seen any of her Garmian relatives.

Eventually, he had to face the music and the car arrived at the event. Servants quickly whisked them away since his father was to escort the empress. As they entered, the dancing began and Paul managed to sneak away from the dance floor, standing in the corner with a drink, deciding to observe the event as his parents danced with various Mesogeian and foreign dignitaries.

[Belfras]

Mangana Imperial Palace Gardens

"There he is!" Nicholaus patted his son's shoulder as George made his way back to the table they were occupying. The son, having been surfing between groups of people making small-talk, had run out of puff and returned to the proverbial coop to recharge.

"Dad." George nodded, taking a glass of water that Nicholaus had just poured for his son. "I had no idea so many people would be attending tonight. Almost everyone's taking stuck in." he laughed

"Almost everyone." Nicholaus agreed, making a small nod toward the lone figure, dressed in fine but bulky traditional armour, walk over to a younger woman at a table. "I trust you remember the Shogun of the Banno Shogunate? You met briefly during your time in Enyama." Nicholaus had lowered himself an level as he swept his eyes elsewhere to keep a tally on who was where.

"Any relation to the dark and brooding lady I saw making a bad attempt at a stealthy exit a while ago?" George asked over his glass, taking a healthy gulp of the water supplied.

"His second daughter." Nicholaus informed his son, "Kauru. The Shogun means to wed his daughters matrilineally to bolster his clan and seal his hold on his new territories. His eldest, Matsumi, is every bit the regal heir to the throne he could want. Kauru, however, is rather like you in many respects; Born to the sword." Nicholaus grinned at his son, remembering the days long past having found young George with the family's ancestral helmet worn centuries before even that day. "It has it's uses, but it will mean that while your second cousin Thaddeus is doing quite well with his martial instruction he will need a guiding hand to be ready for his new role within the Banno Shogunate."

George's eyebrows made their own ascent at the mention of Thaddeus. "You mean to have Thaddeus wed to Kauru? Okay.. what guiding hand?" realisation had hit him while he spoke, the entirely pointed way in which his father had mentioned a 'guiding hand'.

"Oh, you know.. You were in the army for a long time and made a good reputation of yourself, George. You served with the airborne, been in combat. These are things that will make you a respected person to the Banno. Thaddeus, as I said, is doing well. He's just graduated the academy but needs to experience what it is to be a soldier. Perhaps.. you could show him, is all I'm suggesting. A father and a head of house, merely wondering if his son in which he has so much pride could help his second cousin?" Nicholaus knew exactly where to press, the bastard. George grunted, assenting.

"Fine, dad. But I will control the throttle and brake with Thaddeus. If you want him able to keep up with my ilk, when we return I'll be taking him to Kristakis for air assault drills." Nicholaus laughed, nodding. George might have to be rough with Thaddeus for a bit, but if he was anything like his father Magnus, then things would turn out alright. "I do know you though, dad. Why am I here and not Alexander?"

"Ah." Nicholaus stopped for a moment, "The Grand Princess Elena. Daughter of the heir to the throne. We'll find time to make some introductions, but I think you'll like her." It drew a small chuckle of resignation from his son, who merely opted to finish a glass of wine nearby.

"You take after Prince Lucius for selling studs and mares, it seems." George mumbled, looking out to the others around the grounds.


Assembly of the Nobility, Mangana District, Alexandropolis

Nicholaus gazed upon the tapestries of the Mesogeian Myths with a grin about him. He would've felt the whole theatre a bit of a laugh if he wasn't decked out similarly. He couldn't recall anything back home being quite on this scale, but the ballrooms at Questros could match it's size.

"The conquering hero himself!" Nicholaus hailed his son, as George approached his father dressed as a Latin high legate, the sigils of the old Iron legions that came ashore in Belfras millenia ago on his chest. The sword, a fake, hanged from his belt and was accompanied by the helm, which George had tucked under his arm. The younger Dimitrios smiled at his father before pointing up at the tapestries his father was admiring moments earlier.

"I think I remember events like this, but I was more drunk and you were not present!" George laughed with his father. Nicholaus had, of course, elected to be dressed as Octavian Juviento, the first governor of the eastern territories in Belfras. Dressing as an emperor was probably a bit out of taste, but Juviento was a peacemaker of his time. The toga and wreath still drew some comparisons for George, but it was only a party. "You look like you're wearing a bathrobe, however."

"Nonsense, I make this toga dance." Nicholaus huffed for a moment. "As for tonight, my son. We must be watchful. Everybody is in disguises, and may try to converse with you about matters we need to stay clear from. We know, of course, of discontent and malice raised in several members of the Mesogeian hierarchy about the Empress and their perceived slight at not ascending the throne themselves. They will, of course, know of our military and economic advantages over the empire. These are the kind of people who will try to corner you, so in the most diplomatic manner possible if such an event arises you must repeat after me; Fuck 'em!"

George laughed, "Of course. You've never known me to beat around the bush if needed, and I shan't start now. Am I to understand no alcohol?"

"None." Nicholaus nodded, donning his golden mask done in the style of Juviento's death mask. "If you're a good boy, we'll raid the cellars back home and have a piss-up with the others."

George simply smiled while donning his legate helmet which came attached with a fold-down golden facemask done in the manner of the ancient cavalry. "You're on."