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The Peacock’s Gala (IC|Apply)

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Royal Genes
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The Peacock’s Gala (IC|Apply)

Postby Royal Genes » Fri Feb 09, 2024 3:03 pm

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The Summer Palace
Genes, the Genoise Kingdom


OOC & Application Thread

It is the tragic reality of dynasties that the ascension to the throne is at one both a great day, and a terrible one. This it was for King Frederick IV, for his ascension to the throne tragically meant the death of his elder sister, Queen Louise and end of her line of children, grandchildren and even great-grandchildren. Thus, instead of the line of princesses who had prepared for decades to uphold the Genoise Crown, it fell upon the elderly head of a prince who had lived the better part of seventy years in the shadow of his elder sister.

King Frederick IV, 78 years old, born in the golden reign of his great-grandmother Queen Adela, last living child of King Frederick III, and Head of the House of Valwa mourned as he settled into the Peacock Throne, from which his family had ruled for the last 130 years. For a time. But he was not one to mourn forever. Finally on the throne, now the king, with his wife Nicolette of Narkovia at his side, celebrates, as he moves to secure his and his dynasty’s future longevity. Having waited in the wings for so long he is now determined to enjoy his new position. And there is no manner more befitting the reign of a new king than the hosting of a gala.

Intended to serve as his international debut, stepping out of the shadow of previous royal irrelevance, King Frederick IV has sent out an open invitation to Genes’s neighbors and those beyond its shores for a celebration of his ascension at the Summer Palace— the official residence of the Genoise Monarchy.



the Ascension of Frederick IV

The grandeur of the Summer Palace was famous across the continent of Meillur. Built in the reign of King Frederick I for his wife, Queen Adela, it had been inspired by the impressive size and ornamentation of the Russen Tsars. It was meant to be a gift, a residence for a consort who would save the then thinning line of the Valwa. Few might have expected that by the time it was finished, King Frederick I would find himself dead on that very palace’s steps, his wife having seized the throne.

Not that anyone felt too bad for him— indeed quite the opposite. While Frederick I had successfully united Genes into one kingdom, history typically paints him in the shadow of his much more famous and beloved wife. Queen Adela. The longest reigning of any Genoise monarch, Adela had been a foreign noblewoman swept off her feet by a king, only to find he could not hold the country he’d forged together.

The series of events, betrayals, wars and coups that lead to her seizing the throne are too complex to recount— even the most dedicated of historians find themselves lost in the details— but all agree that when she began her sole reign, it marked the beginning of a golden age. Genes grew rich from trade, infamous for its opulence— the Summer Palace becoming a favorite destination for the expanding royal court.

Marble, gold and finely crafted glass adorned the palace, as it became a place of pleasure, leisure, gossip and intrigue. With its bright playful colors, elaborate fountains and carefully curated gardens, how could it not? Yet, Adela’s reign was a long one, and by the closing days of her life after occupying the Peacock Theone for near seventy years, the Summer Palace had become overshadowed by other newer residences built with the Valwa’s growing fortunes.

It was in the midst of this golden age that the current king was born in the countryside of the kingdom. He soon often found himself in the court of his great-grandmother— oft in fact at the Summer Palace— who doted upon him.

King Frederick II, son of the previous monarchs barely had time to enjoy any of his plethora of palaces before old age— having been made to wait so many decades for his chance to wear the crown, carried him away. And in the reign of his son, Frederick III, the Summer Palace was the only one which survived his religious fury, overseeing the destruction of the other great Valwa Palaces— something Genoise architectural students today still find they can not forgive.

Indeed, King Frederick III’s austere and puritanical rule saw the end of the golden age and Genoise contract, its cities shrink, and the vast fortunes of the Valwa locked away in vaults, while zealous faith and authoritarianism became the order of the day.even the royal family lost many of its members to the cold embrace of death. The Summer Palace alone survived as, stripped of its most ornate decorations, it was a palace of great significance, and soon became not simply a royal residence, but the official royal residence.

There were however few mourning when at last, after three decades under the zealous thumb the Crown and Church, Frederick III while abroad, breathed his last. His eldest surviving child, Queen Louise thus took up the crown, and cast aside the darkness of her father’s reign. A academic genius and an enlightened despot, with her loyal consort another genius, Queen Louisewith her economic and social five year plans in her eleven year reign transformed Genes into a new nation.

Rejecting the hedonism of Adela and Frederick II, or the fanatical zealotry of Frederick III, she made the nation into of erudite power, technological prowess, focusing on academics, study, meritocracy, and technocratic reforms. The Summer Palace thus became a temple of reason, of experiments and innovations— the gardens under the direction of Princess Helen’s into bio-engineering testing grounds that saw Genes adopt innovative urban and hydro agricultural techniques to feed their nation— the halls filled with medical researchers and engineers.

It was expected that a new golden age under yet another queen was afoot. That is until the Tragedy at Haguefort, a mysterious event suggested to have been an energy power production testing at Haguefort Manor— one that went terribly wrong, resulting the death of nearly the entirety of the Genoise Royal Family. The Queen, her consort, their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, several of their nephews, nieces and cousins all found their lives suddenly snuffed out.

It had been by pure luck that the Queen’s brother and most of his family, had not been in attendance. Frederick,an ever popular name amongst the Valwa, had not been interested the scientific innovations of his sister’s court and his eldest children and their children had been out of the country— though sadly his youngest son and grandsons had. Thus it had been in the wreckage of this tragedy that he, who had been largely ignored as one of many spares, pushed so far down the line of succession as to be rendered irrelevant, that once again a the crown was picked up.

Frederick— now King Frederick IV—had in his heart always resented being passed over from the throne. He had been the eldest serving boy— have had several sisters and a brother who all died young— should not the throne have gone to him? But Louise had been elder, and wiser, and everyone had agreed absolute primogeniture should take precedence. Which was the first thing he did away with, witching days he issued a new rule of succession, adopting male-preference primogeniture.

Next he focused on his coronation. It was to be a small affair— much to his own annoyance. Nor was it a particularly aspiring event. It rained the entire day, and the sight of the short 78 year old monarch— the third monarch to take the throne in their seventies in living memory—weighed down under the heavy gold crown and royals of state, even seated on the impressive Peacock Throne, did little to move people.

But King Frederick IV remained undeterred. His wife, Queen Nicolette found herself excited to be raise to such a position. Herself born a princess of Narkovia, father dying when she was a toddler and her twin brother swiftly overthrown shortly after and thus both her country and its monarchy lost like sand to the waves, had aspired to higher station. Growing up in exile in her mother’s homeland, she had married a prince, albeit a minor one, and had content herself with that. But now with a crown on her head, after decades of waiting, she meant to wear it proudly.

They would throw a gala, she determined, one that remind the world of the Illustrious Valwa’s might, power and more than anything, their wealth.





The Gala

A red carpet ran down the steps that 120 years earlier had run with the blood of the first Genoise king. It lead up past gusting fountains, alternating between water and champagne and snaked inside past the tall marble clad and glided galleries of the palace. Guests were greeted with a massive statue of a young Queen Adela, cast as a goddess of love, her larger than life marble visage looking down at attendees as if to say “you are honored to be here”

Valwa peacocks wondered the palace, their colorful array of features striking and beautiful. The Peacock was the symbol of the House of Valwa— indeed all of Genes. As such the Valwa had bred several unique colored birds. The famous golden peacocks— considered the most precious— had been bred by the King’s late granddaughter, and boasted an all yellow plumage. There were also serveral all white and all black peacocks, as well as those with their typical blue and green plumage.

Beyond the gallery—line with portraits of past royals— the beloved Prince Roiel, the deadpan expression of Princess Michelle, the proud Queen Christine, the imposing glare of Prince Amadeus or the all seeing eyes of Queen Catherine, lay the gardens of the palace.

Here a large dance floor has been erected, while an open air colonnade flanked its left and right sides topped with arches painted with scenes of ancient reverlry, with the lost royals severally as stand in for gods and goddesses, accompanied by peacocks and angels in flight. Beneath these artful colonnades were tables of finger foods, an open bar while servants in 18th century green and gold livery carried trays of champagne, Genoise wine and samples.

The guests were just as splendid as the decorations. While the aristocracy had been mostly rendered politically powerless by Frederick III, they had under the direction of Queen Louise become the backbone of the Genoise economy has she formed chaebols, rich family own companies that effectively divided the economy up like territories. Given that Genes’ greatest exports were luxury goods—sports cars, fashion, jewelry, etc.— it was little surprise that the wealthiest of these noble chaebol families dealt in cosmetics.

The aristocratic men wore the finest tailored suits— everyone knew the Genoise made the best suits— while aristocratic women dressed in sleek haute couture dress— Genes was the fashion capital of the continent of Meillur after all— with long evening gloves and family tiaras.

Royals too were in naturally in attendance, naturally. There were the three giants, Theodosia, Charles and Augusta of the Valwa-Wessex branch, who all stood over six feet and descended from Frederick II’s second son the late infamous playboy Prince Philippe. While not princes, through marriage and inheritance, each had ended up with a dukedom of their own. At thirty five, Theodosia, with dark brown skin and thick coily black hair was the eldest of the three, and had become Duchess of Cumberland from her mother. She wore pale pastel green and white gown with a matching silk choker.

Charles, Duke of Wessex via an inheritance from his grandfather’s marriage, was at just six foot was ironically the shortest of the trip, a year younger than Theodosia. There was a haughty and arrogant air about the Duke, one that did not help him given his average looks with his dark eyes and broad nose, though his suit was perfectly tailored.

Augusta, thirty two, meanwhile chuckled, smiling brightly as she picked up a glass of champagne. At 6’5” she was the tallest member of the dynasty, and built of pure muscle. She her black hair long, and showed off her massive muscular arms and shoulders in an off the shoulder purple gown. She walked arm-in-arm with her husband, Louis de Réthy, Duke of Fairfield—who control media company, particularly the realm of adult magazines. Fairfield a handsome dandy was dwarfed by his wife, who he joked with as they meandered through the crowd.

Lord Christopher and Lord Yonas Hollande— the young grandsons of the King through his only daughter—mingled, the handsome dark skinned lads of twenty and eighteen respectively dressed in white tie tuxedoes, Christopher, his black hair cut low and pristinely shaped, giving practiced smiles to counts and countesses wishing to make small talk, while Yonas, his hair twisted into braids clasped with gold, eyed the roving trays of wine.

Queen Nicolette presided over it all, easily standing out. The seventy-six year old Queen of Genes wore a monochrome emerald green dress, her short graying curly hair braided into a bun while a massive emerald and Diamond tiara sat on her head. With her wrinkled light brown skin, the queen, mixed from her father’s Caucasian ancestry had notably lighter skin than most Genoise, who had deep dark brown complexions.

Queen Nicolette had a pleasant smile on her face as she greeted guests, an excitement buzzing just behind her aged eyes.
Last edited by Royal Genes on Fri Feb 09, 2024 3:05 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Kingdom of Derita
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Postby Kingdom of Derita » Sat Feb 10, 2024 12:13 am

Prince Anakele stayed close to his father’s side as the elderly Emperor of Derita made his way up the many steps of the Genoise palace. The Emperor hated being old. He, who had done so much and more in his youth, had fought wars, sparked scandal and revolution, was now finding climbing the steps a challenge. But he was no man to accept help, and thus forced his old bonds to work.

The Emperor was a tall man and had been even taller in his youth. Alias such great height, a common trait amongst his people,have consequences. As the Emperor grew older and older, he found himself suffering back pain and standing for long periods was an impossibility. There was a reason after all that he had retired when he had been just Duke of Alencon from public life. He was too old for politics.

Unfortunately, much like his host, the Emperor had had the throne thrust upon him following the death of his grandnephew, Andeja IV, the handsome young monarch expiring on the eve of his wedding. Instead of a wedding, they had gotten a funeral— and the throne had backtracked two generations and the old Iron Duke called out of retirement, to now be Emperor.

One can imagine what terrifying changes the Emperor might have made in his younger days. He had long bucked traditional, decorum and values of his countrymen. But now, perhaps to the relief of many, he was simply too tired. His youngest, and his favorite son, Anakele thus served to support him.

Prince Anakele wore a tuxedo, his white tie pristine, with a golden sash across his chest, much like that if his father, a smattering of military honors pinned to his lapels. The prince though in his early fifties, was the baby of his brothers, and had become the ever loyal companion of his father after the death of his other father, Prince Adrian of Atmora a quarter of a century earlier. The prince often held ambitions greater than that of his father— though they had been tempered by his father’s level headed ness.

Anakele saw his father rising to the throne not as a terrible tragedy, but instead as a cosmic righting of the wrongs that had been dealt to him and their family. And a part of him enjoyed it. He only wished that his father could do so as well. He watched over his father like a bird watching over a fledgling, hovering and worrying, eager to make sure that everything was okay. It annoyed him that his father was so proud as to refuse held or aid. Though he knew the reason.

Anakele recalled his uncle, Emperor Andeja II, who had been weak, crushed by old age and the stress of the crown, rarely ever leaving the throne till eventually he died in it. Anakele guessed his father much rather die on his feet than withering away in some chair.

So the prince put on a brave face, and tried not to think about that somber inevitability. This was not just simply a ball after all for the Deritain Imperials. Derita and Genes were sister nations, bound by blood and history, culture and language. And the two both suffered twin tragedies, in Derita the loss of their emperor, in Genes the lost of their Queen, and both had resulted in unexpected cadet branches sitting on their throne.

It would be beneficial for both of these new families in these old positions to be friends, allies to one another. And for the Emperor it was a move to right the various wrongs that his predecessor had been accused of. For the better part of a century the Volonte, the Imperial Family of Derita, had volleyed brides and grooms back and forth between one another— the mother of the Emperor’s sons had been a Genoise noble while his own younger brother had been consort to the late Queen Louise.

However Andeja III and Andeja IV had repeatedly snubbed the Genoise, which had lead to over a decade of tension and bad blood between their courts. Prince Anakele hoped that with the Emperor’s attendance it would be the first step in thawing out relations between the two nations by restablishing warm diplomatic relations with one another.

This in part was why two of the Emperor’s grandchildren were in attendance, Prince Kekoa and Princess Malana.

Prince Kekoa was second-in-line, after his father the unpopular Crown Prince Kaiko, and was easily the most popular member of the Imperial Family. Having never been expected to wear the crown and born during the time when his family had been in exile after his grandfather had been banished by his great-grandfather (long story) Kekoa had been raised in middle-class Hemakan fashion. Even after their exile had ended things had been largely carefree until he was a teenager and his older sisters involved themselves in politics, paths that sadly were cut short by their deaths.

Nonetheless Kekoa had resisted the royal mold, and his carefree attitude had flourished under the light hand of his grandfather who encouraged individuality and the personal pursuit of happiness. Thus, Kekoa had dropped out of university instead to become a professional surfer, becoming a minor celebrity and champion in the surfing community. A charm he brought with him as he smiled and waved for cameras as he escorted his little sister, Princess Malana dressed in a white and gold evening gown, a simple tiara atop her long loose curls, up the steps of them palace.

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Royal Genes
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Postby Royal Genes » Sat Feb 10, 2024 5:47 am

King Frederick IV was a short and pudgy old man, with skin like dark mahogany, his hair, mustache and goatee all turned gray with age, though his dark eyes remained clear. And while perhaps the monarch was not a particularly eye catching figure, he made up for it in his finely tailored suit that did its best to hide his soft middle and protruding stomach, an emerald sash of state looped over his chest and pinned with an emerald pendant brooch. King Frederick wore pristine white gloves and a matching bow tie, while a golden and emerald peacock brooch pined to his label. He crossed the outdoor ballroom with his head head high, aristocratic lords and ladies bowing and curtsying as he passed.

A small smile held its place on his lips, the king enjoying being the center of attention after so many decades regulated to playing second fiddle to his sister. He accepted a glass of champagne as he made his way to his wife’s side as they spotted the arrival of the Deritain Imperials.

“Your Majesty,” King Frederick said in greeting as he looked up at his Deritain counterpart. Queen Nicolette gave a small curtsy in respect to the monarch— though Frederick as a monarch himself and as they were within his own kingdom did not do so. Her smile was pleasant. While Nicolette’s father had been Narkovian, her mother, the impressive Josephine of Gante who had lived to be over a hundred years old before her death, had herself been a Deritain noble, a member of the Hollande family—the same family that the king and queen’s daughter had married back into, albeit it a different branch. Not that this made Queen Nicolette particularly fond of Emperor Kekoa. She still recalled that in the days before his ascension he and her mother’s family had often been rivals. Still, Nicolette had been far removed from such political intrigues and thus held no ill will to the emperor.

The same could not be entirely said of King Frederick, who, while smiling it did not quite reach his eyes. In many ways they as persons were quite similar— second sons who had been born to be spares, and yet now in the winters of their lives found themselves seated on thrones. And they had achieved their positions so soon after one another— eerily mirroring the death of Andeja II and Frederick III who had died only months apart over a decade ago. King Frederick had no particular dislike for Emperor Kekoa— but rather for his empire in general. The Valwa and the Volonte had been rivals under the reign of Queen Louise, and virtually strangers under Frederick III, given their periods of isolation from one another.

“To have you here, and for you to grace us with your presence, what rarity, one not seen in decades. It has been so long after all since a Deritain emperor dained to actually visit Genes.” King Frederick spoke with a politeness underscored with a sharp edge, the disapproval veiled beneath pretty words.
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Kingdom of Derita
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Postby Kingdom of Derita » Sat Feb 10, 2024 9:50 am

The Emperor closed his eyes as he took a deep breath and bowed his head in greeting to king Frederick IV, while Anakele, Kekoa and Malana bowed and curtsied respectively in respect to the Genoise king and queen. The Emperor looked down at the shorter man with his one good eye, his jaw tightening as even his aged ears heard the venom that King Frederick dipped his syllables into. He had feared— and expected— as much of a response to his attendance.

He did not know the Valwa to be exactly the forgiving type. Certainly not the forgetting type. Still. It did not make it any easier. Prince Anakele looked to his father, and saw the bitter determination that burned in his remaining good eye. The Emperor had resolved to use this gala as an opportunity to repair the wounds that festered between Derita and Genes, and would not be stopped or hindered by a few venomous words. He would swallow the poison and endure.

It was not a manner he was used to. The Emperor and his sons had all always been more comfortable with action, not the slow machinations of intrigue. In his time as prime minister, the Emperor had administrated like a general giving commands. It had been in part the source of his downfall. For all the Emperor’s ideas on rights and democracy—at the end of the day he had been a prince, a general, and force came so much more naturally to him.

This however was not an issue that could be solved with force, only with words, never mind the poison that they were laced with. So the Emperor pressed on, hoping geninuness would cut through to King Frederick.

“So long indeed. Far too long. A breach I find however rectified, on account of me standing here before you, a great honor indeed. Though it pains me to have loss the brilliant minds of the good Queen Louise and my dear brother, Prince Antoine, I have no doubt that you are a worthy successor to their good name and memory, Your Majesty. Long may you reign.”

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Royal Genes
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Postby Royal Genes » Sat Feb 10, 2024 10:28 am

King Frederick took a sip of his champagne, listening and considering the words of the emperor. After a short while he said, “And long may you reign as well, I suppose we are brothers in the infancy of our reigns, even if we are no longer brothers in law. After all, they say a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. A one step has certainly been taken.” The words were more neutral than before, though they still lacked warmth.

Invoking the name and memory of his late sister did not move the king, who felt her shadow swallowing him from even beyond the grave. But he recognized it for what it was, an attempt to start again between their nations. But King Frederick was not one to simply roll over. Not with Derita of all nations. No. On that, it was a matter of principle. But he would give the emperor proper space to truly repair the folly of his predecessors. Preferably while being racked across Genoise coals.

“Perhaps we may set aside some of this talk for merriment,” Queen Nicolette said, taking up a glass of champagne and offering it to Emperor Kekoa. “We have spared no expense in our selection of… well everything.”

King Frederick smiled at this. Indeed the gala had cost a fortune. A fortune that the Valwa had plenty more of. He enjoyed reminding the Imperials that his family had surpassed theirs in the vastness in their accounts, despite their smaller size. Not an entirely surprising outcome. Adela’s family had before rising to the ranks of nobility and royalty, had been bankers. Both King Frederick III and Queen Louise had managed and grown their investments, leaving the dynasty’s books well in the black. And, perhaps darkly, the lost of so many royals had also meant the loss of so many expenses.
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Postby Kingdom of Derita » Sat Feb 10, 2024 10:48 am

The emperor let out an internal sigh of relief, feeling as if he had just run the length of a marathon only to just catch his foot in the door. Yes the door was old and exceedingly heavy, but perhaps he could push it open now at least that he had a grip on it. He was thankful for Queen Nicolette, who seemed the easier of the two win over. He nodded his head as he graciously accepted the champagne from her. Normally he did not drink— for decades Derita had been a dry nation with alcohol banned until his young grandnephew had ended that.

But when Genes, do as the Genoise do.

“It is a beautiful day,” the Emperor said, “and I am sure to be an even more beautiful evening, particularly with you at the helm,” the emperor said, bending to kiss the hand of Queen Nicolette, though he winced as he rose, waving off Anakele who looked ready to swoop in to help him. “Though I fear I am not the young man I once was, dancing shall be entirely off the menu for me, though if there were anyone I would this evening, I would have hoped to have the honor with you.”

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Royal Genes
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Postby Royal Genes » Sat Feb 10, 2024 11:16 am

Queen Nicolette laughed, a light and gentle laugh, the type expected of a princess— or rather now a queen. She put a hand to her free hand to her chest as the emperor kissed her other one.

“Your Majesty, you do flatter,” she said as if she were talking to a cat that had jumped onto a sofa. “And it shall get you everywhere,” she added with a joking tease as she pulled her hand away. King Frederick laughed at this, his mood brightened by his wife’s levity. Whatever the tension between their nations, she would not let it deter her mission at enjoying the gala. Nor King Frederick resolved would he.

“Dancing is for the young,” King Frederick said. “Which is why Nicolette still does so.”

The Queen smiled, patting her husband’s arm, adding teasingly, “I may have six and seventy years behind me, but I shall always remain your junior my love.”

“And as beautiful as the day I first lay my eyes on you, my sweet.” The king kissed his queen, the two lingering there for a moment before recalling that they were hosts of the event. While Frederick IV was perhaps the first Genoise king to be truly loyal to his consort, over the course of all their many years of marriage. Frederick I and Frederick II had both been chronically unfaithful to their wives, while Frederick III had never cheated while married by had used religious grounds to dispense with his second wife once he found he wanted a younger one.

Frederick and Nicolette had been together for decades and not once had they had the misfortune of suffering through a great crisis. The benefit perhaps of having been matched under the radar.

“Though I fear I know a thing or two about old bones,” King Frederick continued, turning his attention to the emperor. “Perhaps we can sit and enjoy the spectacle from the best of views. The sidelines and with plenty of snacks and drinks at our disposal?”
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Kingdom of Derita
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Postby Kingdom of Derita » Sat Feb 10, 2024 12:56 pm

The Emperor smiled at the King and Queen as they let slip their regal masks to reveal the people behind them. It was a sweet thing to witness. And it seemed that he had been correct in finding that Queen Nicolette was the easier to win over, chuckling at her joking response, diffusing the situation. He nodded in agreement with King Frederick on the matter of old bones. After all he was the senior of the two, if only by two years.

The Emperor took a sip of his champagne and made a bit of a show that enjoyed the drink, and gestured for the king to lead the way.

“I fear if I sit down I may never well be able to get back up again,” the Emperor said with a laugh, though it make his son worry at his lip knowing his father, “then gravity is calling for me. And I am sure that if your hors d’oeuvres are as fine as your champagne then I shall find myself in for quite a treat. As for dancing, I shall leave that for the younger generation.” The Emperor turned to his grandson, Prince Kekoa, who was nudged forward by Anakele— Anakele himself had never been great at dancing and had no intention of leaving his father’s side.

Prince Kekoa smiled resisting the urge to shoot a glare over his shoulder at his uncle, bowing again as he took Queen’s hand. “I’d be honored if you would save a dance for me, Your Majesty, though I fear if I shall be able to keep up with you.”

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The Daeva
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Postby The Daeva » Sat Feb 10, 2024 1:25 pm

Rakshasa was old money. This fact was not apparent by how the loud and personable Socialite presented himself. If anything, one would be forgiven for thinking he was Nouveau Riche. The thin golden crown that sat in his unruly hair was the only indication of his royal heritage. His family had ruled Daeva since the Achaemenid Empires days. He had no idea how those ancient warriors would view him, but he didn’t much care. He could buy and sell them. Unlike many other royals, Rakshasa had dived into the business world. His holding company owned many, many varied companies, many of which had monopoly over Daevan Economics. From Agriculture to Steel to Motorworks, his invisible hand held both Daevan and a good chunk of international economics under his handsomely gloved fist. He was a very good ally to have for a new, unestablished king to have.

Thats why Rakshasa was hoping that a few of his eccentricities would be overlooked. One of which was his choice of car. While most of the guests would presumably arrive in limousines and other ‘fancy cars’, Rakshasa preferred something with more speed. So it was that his dodge challenger rolled up to the event. It was, mercifully, the black one and not the bright red one. In fact, the young Shahzadeh had to be talked out of showing up in his F7 racer. When he wasn’t being a ruthless businessman, Rakshasa was a Media Darling and Race Car Driver for team Rasmo. Eccentricity number two, he drove it himself. He was a racer, no way he would be ferried around like Cargo.

His brother, Ifrit sat in the back, rather cramped as he was a 7 foot tall musclebound giant. It was a wonder they were twins, the slight and 5 10 Rakshasa to the Brutish and 7 foot Ifrit. He was Rakshasa’s bodyguard, and was trained in combat by the elite Fravashi Royal Guard. Luckily, he was also royalty and so was able to be included as a plus one rather than security.

As the car pulled up, Rakshasa stepped out and looked around at the palace, a wide smile on his face. Time to wheel and deal. He loved stuff like this, for both pragmatic reasons and because he was personable. He was resplendent in a his suit, his golden Circlet gleaming like a halo. His brother was dressed similarly, his muscles bulging through his suit. Although, unlike his brother, Ifrit didn’t wear a crown. Rakshasa began making his way up the stairs, airily. His eyes shone brightly with youth, scanning the ground for conversation and Hors d'oeuvres.

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Royal Genes
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Postby Royal Genes » Sat Feb 10, 2024 2:10 pm

Queen Nicolette chuckled as she studied Prince Kekoa, a slight blush to her cheeks. “I see that the flattery is hereditary,” she said, lifting up the Prince’s chin to get a look at him, like an aunt inspecting a relative they had seen in a long time, “as are the good looks it seems.” The Queen did recall that the emperor had been a handsome young man back when they had been the Prince’s age, and while the features were different, the looks remained there.

“I shall be sure to save dance for you, and you stay on your toes, this old woman will teach you a thing or two, trust me.” The Queen laughed again.

King Frederick meanwhile waved an arm and started over to the edge of the dance floor. He barked a few orders at some servants who quickly hoped to it, arranging for a dais seated with chairs and a pair of footmen with large palm leaves and another with various assorted doors and yet another as a cupbearer for the king. The king took a seat, letting out a small huff and groan as he reclined in the overstuffed finery. The dais gave the king center position, able to look out for the dance floor, the milling crowd of guests and the gardens beyond.

“I admire, that is one of my favorite parts of sitting the throne,” King Frederick said as he gestured for the emperor to join in him the seat next to him, “the sitting part.”

As King Frederick laughed as his little joke, he inspected the hors d’oeuvres that had been prepared. As some of his guests were reported to have allergies the foot selection had been catered to be befitting for the most amount of people while remaining accommodating. There were sugar covered samosas for sweet, while along lamb and roasted potatoes filled fried and steamed dumplings, brioche rounds with cream and caviar, bruschetta and goat cheese crostini.

Meanwhile as guests spotted the arrival of Shahzadeh Rakshasa, there were several audible gasps as they spotted first his massive brother. The seven foot giant was easily the tallest person in attendance and the Genoise couldn’t help but marvel at.

Duchess Theodosia chuckled, nudging her sister, whispering, “It seems that you have competition.”

Duchess Augusta laughed, “That is hardly competition, he handily wins,” she said, shaking her head.

Queen Nicolette smiled as she, wrapping up her conversation with Prince Kekoa, turned to greet the twin Shahzadehs. Shahzadeh Rakshasa was said to be a darling of Daevan media, and would just as likely be so in Genoise, where he so fit the idea of the noble businessman that had been crafted around the Genoise Chaebols— though that he was a royal rather than a noble was a bit odd.

“Your Highnesses,” the queen said, “welcome, how wonderful nit is to have you as our guests.”
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Kingdom of Derita
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Postby Kingdom of Derita » Sat Feb 10, 2024 4:10 pm

The Emperor followed after the king, Anakele trailing after them as well, while Prince Kekoa and Princess Malana thanked the queen, and went in search of meeting with others of the guests. The Emperor sank into the seat provided for him next to King Frederick, letting out a slight groan as he settled, pleased to find himself seated so that his good eye was next to the king. Prince Anakele meanwhile took up his post on his blind side, both at once a guard, an aide and an ornament.

“There are many perks to the throne, as are there are many duties as I am sure that you are no doubt well aware. Such as being the one to lead and direct one’s homeland, one’s nation into new and prosperous directions.”

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Postby Royal Genes » Sat Feb 10, 2024 4:25 pm

King Frederick did not answer the emperor immediately. Instead he gestured for one of the servants with a tray of caviar and cream over brioche to come over his way, which the man in his elaborate livery did quickly, holding out the tray for the king to inspect. King Frederick studied the collection of food, his fingers hovering over them as he considered which he wished to select. Finally after a while he delicates picked one up and took a bit into it, savoring the taste as he leaned back into his seat and turned his attention back to the Emperor.

“Lead the nation? Yes, I am well aware that is the role I have inherited, that you have as well. Though one wonders where you imagine I might lead Genes to. Back into the arms of the empire I presume?” King Frederick’s harsh laugh was enough to indicate that he had no intention of going down that path.

“The Volonte have made it abundantly clear that they act without interest or concern for the view point of the Genoise. It is high time that we Valwa do the same Particularly on the free market. I am eager to see which of us shall grow to be more successful in the end. I admit my money— of which I have a considerable amount— would be on me. Your Maesty” as if to punctuate his point, King Frederick finished the brioche, licking his fingers.
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Postby Kingdom of Derita » Sat Feb 10, 2024 4:45 pm

The Emperor grind his teeth as he listened to King Frederick, feeling as if he had just entered a boxing ring and was trading swings with his fellow head of state. Much to his annoyance. He couldn’t help but feel that had they been thrown into a true boxing arena, that then perhaps he would have easy triumphed, bad back and all.

“We live in interesting time, my friend,” the Emperor said, deciding to drop the formalities in hopes of breaking down the barriers the king seemed to have set up like barricades around him. “And in such times as these, one can not help but wonder if it is truly wise for us to tackle matters alone. Isolation has for too long been the safety blank of our nations. The world is changing, and new dangers lurk in every corner. Simply turning about and putting one’s head in the sand.”

“Our nations are neighbors, sisters in culture and language and blood. We were meant to be Allie’s, partners and friends in our political and economic and military pursuits. Yet this gulf grows between us, and if we leave it as it is, to fester and grow, then it shall become insurmountable and shall spread till it has engulfed us all.”

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Postby Royal Genes » Sat Feb 10, 2024 6:08 pm

King Frederick’s eyes narrowed at the emperor, though he maintained a small smile, a polite decoration for onlookers.

“You seem to have matters quite twisted, ny friend,” the King of Genes said in a decidelyunfriendly voice. I have no reason to be looking for such alliances. Genes is not the one so obsessed with perennial isolation. Or have you forgotten where you sit, of where doors were opened to you when your father exiled you? Genes has always and shall continue to be a nation of trade and cooperation. We make connections, deals and partnerships. It is the empire that imagines that they can stand alone in the world.”

King Frederick reclined in his chair, taking a breath before his words grew even more heated. “Or at least… that is what your empire used to think. Though now it seems to me that you are realizing the truth. That despite your great size and ancient history, that you can no longer afford to stand alone in the world. And where does that bring you? Back to Genes.”

King Frederick shook his head. “You speak of nations that are sisters, but time and time again, Derita has treated us a child, an ever loyal dog that may be done with as you may like, used, discarded at your interest or lack of.” He thought of his sister. He was no genius as she had been, but he still had in his possession her designs and plans for the nation. Plans that would turn Grnes into not only the fashion capital of the continent, but the trade and technological center as well. An academic Mecca, and advanced society that would out strip others.

Plans he intended to carry out.
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The Daeva
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Postby The Daeva » Sat Feb 10, 2024 8:38 pm

Royal Genes wrote:Queen Nicolette chuckled as she studied Prince Kekoa, a slight blush to her cheeks. “I see that the flattery is hereditary,” she said, lifting up the Prince’s chin to get a look at him, like an aunt inspecting a relative they had seen in a long time, “as are the good looks it seems.” The Queen did recall that the emperor had been a handsome young man back when they had been the Prince’s age, and while the features were different, the looks remained there.

“I shall be sure to save dance for you, and you stay on your toes, this old woman will teach you a thing or two, trust me.” The Queen laughed again.

King Frederick meanwhile waved an arm and started over to the edge of the dance floor. He barked a few orders at some servants who quickly hoped to it, arranging for a dais seated with chairs and a pair of footmen with large palm leaves and another with various assorted doors and yet another as a cupbearer for the king. The king took a seat, letting out a small huff and groan as he reclined in the overstuffed finery. The dais gave the king center position, able to look out for the dance floor, the milling crowd of guests and the gardens beyond.

“I admire, that is one of my favorite parts of sitting the throne,” King Frederick said as he gestured for the emperor to join in him the seat next to him, “the sitting part.”

As King Frederick laughed as his little joke, he inspected the hors d’oeuvres that had been prepared. As some of his guests were reported to have allergies the foot selection had been catered to be befitting for the most amount of people while remaining accommodating. There were sugar covered samosas for sweet, while along lamb and roasted potatoes filled fried and steamed dumplings, brioche rounds with cream and caviar, bruschetta and goat cheese crostini.

Meanwhile as guests spotted the arrival of Shahzadeh Rakshasa, there were several audible gasps as they spotted first his massive brother. The seven foot giant was easily the tallest person in attendance and the Genoise couldn’t help but marvel at.

Duchess Theodosia chuckled, nudging her sister, whispering, “It seems that you have competition.”

Duchess Augusta laughed, “That is hardly competition, he handily wins,” she said, shaking her head.

Queen Nicolette smiled as she, wrapping up her conversation with Prince Kekoa, turned to greet the twin Shahzadehs. Shahzadeh Rakshasa was said to be a darling of Daevan media, and would just as likely be so in Genoise, where he so fit the idea of the noble businessman that had been crafted around the Genoise Chaebols— though that he was a royal rather than a noble was a bit odd.

“Your Highnesses,” the queen said, “welcome, how wonderful nit is to have you as our guests.”


Rakshasa smiled brilliantly. It was easy to see how the Daevan media could love the young windswept royal. They ignored the predatory business practices, although Rakshasa had to assume that his hosts did their homework. Still, money talked, as did social standing, and the thing that talked the most… was Rakshasa, who had inherited the energy for both him and his twin. Ifrit stood like a statue, flanking Rakshasa. It was abundantly clear that the giant was security, although Rakshasa was willing to bet that most were too polite to admit it.

“Your Majesty! The pleasure is mine, truly. It is me, and my brothers honor to be invited here today.” He said, his youthful voice full energy and genuine excitement. While it was true that he was a shrewd businessman, he was also 22, and it often showed. “I am honored I was considered. And I must say, you have a truly wonderful home.” He says, his quick smile nearly blinding. “Don’t you think so, brother?” He said, looking up at his twin with a smooth motion. It was quite clear that he was used to his brother towering over him.


Ifrit seems thrown by the question. He wasn’t used to talking, he generally just stood there and looked menacing. Rakshasa talked enough (some may say too much) for the both of them. It was clear that Rakshasa filled the gap in his height with noise. “Uhh… Yes, I agree with what my brother said.” Ifrit said. It was the safest option. Rakshasa smiled apologetically at the queen. “Sorry, your majesty, my brother is not a talker. Many don’t believe we are related, even less that we are twins. Nonidentical of course.”
Last edited by The Daeva on Sat Feb 10, 2024 11:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Scornerse
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Postby Scornerse » Sat Feb 10, 2024 8:48 pm

Sartana had no official business to speak of, in the Genoisean Kingdom. Her vist here was entirely of her own initiative & on her own time. She was here as a matter of recreation, vacation was too passive a word for it. She loved being at balls & gala's, the more aristocratic, the better. Whether or not she had any skin in the game, there was no other type of event that provided the space for the type of deeply personal intrigue that characterized them. There were opportunity to embarass those who'd scarely faced misfortune in their lives.

Put succintly, Sartana enjoyed a good royal gala for much the same reason she enjoyed stepping into a ring, the thrill there was in the tactics & strategy of briging someone else low as they aimed to do the aimed to do the same to you. Of course, the weapons of this conflict would primarily be her wits & charm rather than her fists & feet. That being said, physical intimidation was a key part of her maneuvering, plus the palace was big & security wasn't ommipotent. Some unlucky lady could get aquainted with the wolf queen's fist.

The Scornersean had made sure to do her due dilligence when it came to learning about the history of the Genoisean monarchy. This very building had become a center of great power & wealth as a result of woman that was both ambitous and clever enough to seize the throne from her husband, then went on to rule for the better part of a century in a golden age. That fact alone, before anything that followed, was enough to tell her that these Genoisean most certainly saw assertive cunning as a clear irtue rather than something, which might merely be tolerated. Especially that this sort of behaviour was seen as a virtue in women, until this most recent king, absolute primogeniture had been the standard for sucession.

That was of mixed blessings for Sartana. It was good in the sense that if she went around intimidating people they wouldn't think her an unrefined for doing it, but it else clearly good in that she'd be dealing with women who were used to that type of behaviour and even engagedin it themselves. It'd likely make things more difficult for her, but, it slso might make the 'game' of it all more engaging. Which was what she wanted, she wasn't exactly looking to marry her way into Genoisean aristocracy, but the people in here didn't have to know that. Nevermind that if they really wanted ties to her family, there were women that could fill that role.

Speaking of her family, her tribe, that was always an interesting little pecuilarity of her nation of origin. Scornerse was, named and founded by a conwmquering, forward thinking emperor, whose reign was owed to a combination of support of indigenous tribes in rural areas and urban workers in cities The empire he left behind to his daugther, would end up under going a peaceful transition to a socialist republic, were all businesses are cooperatively owned by their workers. One consequence of this, is that prominent rural tribes of Scornerse, like the Ninakatari had a way forming family owned consulting coopertives, which provided specialist expertise to other coops.

The result has been the emergence of psudeo-aristocracy of educated professionals from long family lines with disproportionate power over the state & economy. In many respects, the power of this aristoracy is more real than the nobility of most capitalist countries under the primary domination of rich commoners. It also isn't exactly possible to nationalize & redistribute technical expertise, as one might do so with land & property. Throw in the fact that these families gave Scornerse the soft-power of having families such as these marry into foreign nobility families, their position was virtually unassiable.

It also meant that since the source of these tribes power was the individual competence of their members rather than just landed wealth, they had to take educating their members very seriously. Sartana was exceptional, but not strictly speaking, unique. Most Scornerseans from prominent tribes, men & women alike, demostrated a great deal of martial & individual prowess. That was their value proposition to foreign aristocracies. Competence & good genes, from one person at a time, but also a connection to entire families with these traits. To put it crudely, the presentation of the three bs, beauty, brawn and brains, was always a high prioriety when amongst foreign elite.

That was obviously no different for Sartana, who arrived in a light yellow backless Grecian A-line gown, tailored precisely to show off her physique, with long red
gloves. Perhaps she could have gone strapless, or worn a mermaid or trumpet dress to show of more of her shape, but Sartana was too practical for that, she prefred the support of grecian neckline & the flexiblity of the A-Line. She wasn't wearing high heels on her feet, now need to add to her heighr when she stood above the crowd. Well, most of the crowd, at least, she could see Augusta from where she stood. It was certainly petty & immature, but she always started witha base level of dislike for any woman taller than her.

Rather than throw herself into engaging with the guests or her hosts, she'd circulate around the room, a bit like a shark patrolling for prey. She saw the old king, greet another old, one eyed man, a king as well, family in tow. She could see them conversing, but was of greater intrest to her was the dance that commenced between one of the guests and the queen, which is precisely when an idea came to her. She caught sight of the Duke of Fairfield, husband to Duchess Augusta. It is with that, a thought came to her mind & with the king busy, she'd have an excuse for not starting with him.

She made her way to the Duke and his wife, intentionaly and purposefully approaching from the side Duchess Augusta was on, maintaining a flash of of eye contact with a small smirk, but nonethless adressing the duke first "The moment I caught sight of the renowned Duke of Fairfield, I knew that I had to introduce myself. I am Chieftess Sartana of the Ninakatari tribe, I hail from Scornerse, its a pleasure to meet you." Sartana began. Next she looked to Augusta's sister, her sight passing across Augusta woman's eyes again, but still greeting her sister before her. "You are, I believe, are, Duchess Theodosia, pleasure to meet you as well." Only now did she turn to Augusta properly, with a small tilt of her head & a piercing, challenging stare into her eyes. "...as with you, Augusta."

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Postby Kingdom of Derita » Sun Feb 11, 2024 12:53 am

The Emperor was smarten aback, feeling as if he had been slapped across the face. He gripped the armrests of his seat, and took a breath. He had not come here to be stripped down by the king. Nor was the Emperor one to do easily take such words. But a part of him knew that King Frederick did not speak lies. His predecessors, particularly Andeja IV had not treated Genes as an equal, and had never made the effort of reconciliation. Which meant it now fell to Kekoa.

And Derita, increasingly had found itself standing alone. Andeja III and Marijani d’Aurelains had used force and military might to show that Derita could act unilaterally in making and ending war. Marijani in particular had terrified a continent when they realized that she could easily become a conqueror. It had been conquest alone that had managed to see the empire expand and stabilize its internal economy— but the Emperor, as a general, knew that it was unsustainable.

If Derita was to have peace without isolation, prosperity without war, the empire needed a strong ally, particularly one well versed in standing on its feet when it came to trade and commerce. They needed Genes. It was too important, and too near a neighborhood, for thrm not to be allies. For the Emperor also knew that if Genes were turned into an enemy, particularly one with an outside influence, that would not be favorable to the empire.

“You are right,” the Emperor said with a sigh. “The empire has for far too long under appreciated Genes. But you remain our sister. Deritain blood flows through your veins,we are family, and we must stick together as family should. My grandnephew was young, and more lead by his heart than his head. He made mistakes. But he is gone. And we must start anew. We are both at the start of our reigns, and whether they be short or long, should we not begin them by healing old wounds, and make new friendships?”




“Do you think kupuna kāne will convince the king of an alliance?” Princess Malana whispered to her brother as she watched the two old men talk from across the outdoor room. Prince Kekoa shrugged his shoulders as he accepted a glass of champagne and popping a steaming dumpling into his mouth. He chewed, his cheeks bulging slight as he tasted the delicious but also hot piece of food, causing Malana to roll her eyes, though he saw the laugh she was trying to hold back.

Kekoa finally swallowed, downing half his glass at once, winching at the bitter taste of alcohol. “I don’t know how people drink this stuff. It looks so delicious, but it tastes so… not.”

“Did you hear a word I just said?”

“Sorry yes,” Kekoa took another sip and made a face. He muttered in a low voice, “nope, doesn’t get any better.”

“Then stop drinking it,” Malana pushed the glass down away from his lips.

“I don’t want to be rude,” Kekoa said. “What’s the saying, ‘do as the Genoise do’. Besides, it is better than worrying over kupuna kāne.”

“So you think he’ll succeed?”

Kekoa shrugged. “Probably not. But why let that get in the way of a good party?”

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Royal Genes
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Postby Royal Genes » Sun Feb 11, 2024 2:36 am

“Fraternal twins,” Queen Nicolette said, sounding a bit like a grandmother, with a bright smiled as she looked over Rakshasa and Ifrit. The Queen marveled slightly at the man’s great height, though it seemed clear that he played second fiddle to Rakshasa who carried himself with blinding confidence. The Queen put a hand to her chest. “I myself am a fraternal twin, with my later brother Vantern. It’s hereditary, you know. My mother and my uncle Henry were twins, and my son and daughter, the Crown Prince and Princess Meseret are twins.”

The Queen spoke with great pride over the three generation of fraternal twins— each boy-girl pairs, in her family. Indeed, it disappointed her a bit that none of her grandchildren were twins as she was. There seemed to her something particularly special about royal twins.

“Regardless, it is nice to have you, and I’m sure after a drink or two, that shyness shall we washed away,” the queen said with a laugh and wave of her hand. Shyness was not a trait often found in the court of the Valwa royals, his Ifrit might survive it, it was one to wonder. But Rakshasa would thrive. “There is after all always something to talk about, else the world would be terribly dull.”




Chieftess Sartana quickly caught people’s attention as she circled the space, for both her height, which like with Ifrit, sparked awe and wonder. The second most striking thing was her gloves, particularly their color, which was striking amidst the many ladies in white evening gloves. There were a flurry of whispered about them as she passed assorted aristocrats, some who found the flashy color entirely tacky, while a few admired the boldness of the look.

The Duke of Fairfield smiled as the Chieftess of the Ninakatari introduced herself. He turned his head to show off his profile like a model preparing for a photo shoot. Fairfield had a short, slim and slight build that was adorned in a tailored Gersemetti original. His skin was a golden caramel color, his bleached blond hair styled in a low skin fade with medium length locs on the top. Though he was the shortest person in their little group, he beamed as if he were the sun god himself.

“It is good to see that good taste is not confined to the shores of Genes,” Fairfield said.

Theodosia rolled her eyes at her brother-in-law, though this only made Augusta chuckle. Theodosia eyed Sartana, her eyes sweeping up and down her curiously. No offense to Fairfield, but he wasn’t exactly the most famous person in attendance of the ball— though it was true people might recognize the de Réthy name, that was more due to the legacy of his late grandfather rather than anything the present Duke had accomplished.

“Charmed,” Theodosia said in a deadpan voice, “I’m sure.”

Augusta’s eyes met Sartana’s, and the duchess quickly closed the gap between them, kissing each cheek of the Chieftess twice in greeting as she smiled brightly, taking Sartana’s hands into her own. “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. And what a lovely dress you have, it suits you so well.”




King Frederick’s false smile twitched. He selected another round of brioche. “Genoise blood runs through our veins. We have not been Deritain in a very long time. We are our own people. We have our own ways.”

The king tilted his head to one side and then to another.

“If we were to start again, for we would need to start again, anew and as equals, partners, not mother and child, or senior and junior, but true partners, Derita must accept that. We are not the same. We are two families, two houses. Valwa and Volonte.”
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Scornerse
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Postby Scornerse » Sun Feb 11, 2024 7:27 am

Sartana knew well enough entering the gala that her dress, particularly her gloves, would attract attention. That was by design, she wanted to attract attention, to spark discussion & invoke judgement. To first stand above others, one must stand apart. Given how she not so subtly slighted Augusta with her greetings, she could know almost certainly she stood on the side of those who might well see her dress as tacky, even childish. The kiss on the cherk and the comment was likely mean't to be demeaning on that Basis. Her task now was to win over a majority to her boldness, while keeping Augusta among a shrinking set of detractors.

The woman, of course, had done nothing to her for Sartana to make a mission of humiliating her. But the simple fact was that social attention, was a zero sum game, for one to rise another had to fall & who better to pull down than the tallest woman in the room? Then there was the more brutish desire of hers, that if tensions got high enough, the opportunity may present itself for the 'wolf queen' to make use of her vocation away from prying eyes. But first, she needed to parry her insult.

"Oh thank you, Duchess, these red gloves you hold represent a willingness to act boldly and decisively. Something quite important for a sovereign to embrace when establishing their rule early in their reign, even at risk of attracting the ire of some or even many. To do otherwise is to risk ossification in old ways. Such ways may have been good for their season, but change always must come, to do otherwise is to stagnant. Which might be good for mediocrities dependent on the status quo for relevance, but not for a body politic as a whole."

She pulled her hands away, retaining eye contact with Augusta, while keeping her hands up high and together, her arms bent and the size of her biceps emphasized

"As for the rest of the dress, elegance to me is part in parcel with practicality. I like to put forward a tasteful and impressive silhouette, but I've never liked dresses that restricted my movement..." Sartana continued, as she closed her right hand into a fist & clasped her left hand around it "Lest I find myself dancing with someone." She said as a subtle double entendre.


"Speaking of which..." Sartana said, next she turning to the Duke and reaching her a hand out a to him. "May I have a dance?"

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Postby Royal Genes » Sun Feb 11, 2024 8:00 am

Augusta took a step back as Sartana pulled her hands away, her eyebrows furrowing slightly and her lip forming a slight pout. Her eyes drifted over Sartana’s biceps as she spoke. Few could appreciate such prominent muscle on a woman as Augusta did, who did not care about the typical beauty standards of her homeland that favored the petite doll like figures of women like her cousins. Her appreciation didn’t last long however.

Augusta rarely cared for politics— it was a boring pursuit when there was so much more in the world— but she had grown up in the palace and new a barb sent her way when she heard it. Her eyes narrowed, a mixture of anger and confusion in her irises. What had she done to this woman? She had greeted her with open arms and friendly admiration, but the Chieftess didn’t seem to hold any friendly regard towards her. It was further not in the least endearing when she asked Fairfield to dance, for it seem entirely non-innocent.

The Duke of Fairfield— who’d stop paying attention the moment the conversation strayed from being about him, looked up at the Chieftess in confusion, but smiled. “Oh—“

Before the Duke of Fairfield coukd speak or accept Chieftess Sartana’s hand however, Theodosia was standing between them. Downing the last of her drink and placing it on a tray of a servant, with a graceful side step she positioned her self between Sartana and the Duke and Duchess of Fairfield. Theodosia didn’t know what her beef was with her little sister (Augusta was the younger even if she were taller) but she would put an end to it.

“The Duke has a terrible abundance of left feet,” Theodosia said in a bored tone, taking Sartana’s hand. Behind her Fairfield made a face in protest at being accused of possessing two left feet. “You are much better off with me.” Theodosia, only an inch or so shorter than the Chieftess, smiled at her, a dark challenging one as she gathered up her skirts and started to lead her towards the dance floor. “I’ll even let you lead.”
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Postby The Daeva » Sun Feb 11, 2024 9:51 am

Royal Genes wrote:
“Fraternal twins,” Queen Nicolette said, sounding a bit like a grandmother, with a bright smiled as she looked over Rakshasa and Ifrit. The Queen marveled slightly at the man’s great height, though it seemed clear that he played second fiddle to Rakshasa who carried himself with blinding confidence. The Queen put a hand to her chest. “I myself am a fraternal twin, with my later brother Vantern. It’s hereditary, you know. My mother and my uncle Henry were twins, and my son and daughter, the Crown Prince and Princess Meseret are twins.”

The Queen spoke with great pride over the three generation of fraternal twins— each boy-girl pairs, in her family. Indeed, it disappointed her a bit that none of her grandchildren were twins as she was. There seemed to her something particularly special about royal twins.

“Regardless, it is nice to have you, and I’m sure after a drink or two, that shyness shall we washed away,” the queen said with a laugh and wave of her hand. Shyness was not a trait often found in the court of the Valwa royals, his Ifrit might survive it, it was one to wonder. But Rakshasa would thrive. “There is after all always something to talk about, else the world would be terribly dull.”




Chieftess Sartana quickly caught people’s attention as she circled the space, for both her height, which like with Ifrit, sparked awe and wonder. The second most striking thing was her gloves, particularly their color, which was striking amidst the many ladies in white evening gloves. There were a flurry of whispered about them as she passed assorted aristocrats, some who found the flashy color entirely tacky, while a few admired the boldness of the look.

The Duke of Fairfield smiled as the Chieftess of the Ninakatari introduced herself. He turned his head to show off his profile like a model preparing for a photo shoot. Fairfield had a short, slim and slight build that was adorned in a tailored Gersemetti original. His skin was a golden caramel color, his bleached blond hair styled in a low skin fade with medium length locs on the top. Though he was the shortest person in their little group, he beamed as if he were the sun god himself.

“It is good to see that good taste is not confined to the shores of Genes,” Fairfield said.

Theodosia rolled her eyes at her brother-in-law, though this only made Augusta chuckle. Theodosia eyed Sartana, her eyes sweeping up and down her curiously. No offense to Fairfield, but he wasn’t exactly the most famous person in attendance of the ball— though it was true people might recognize the de Réthy name, that was more due to the legacy of his late grandfather rather than anything the present Duke had accomplished.

“Charmed,” Theodosia said in a deadpan voice, “I’m sure.”

Augusta’s eyes met Sartana’s, and the duchess quickly closed the gap between them, kissing each cheek of the Chieftess twice in greeting as she smiled brightly, taking Sartana’s hands into her own. “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. And what a lovely dress you have, it suits you so well.”




King Frederick’s false smile twitched. He selected another round of brioche. “Genoise blood runs through our veins. We have not been Deritain in a very long time. We are our own people. We have our own ways.”

The king tilted his head to one side and then to another.

“If we were to start again, for we would need to start again, anew and as equals, partners, not mother and child, or senior and junior, but true partners, Derita must accept that. We are not the same. We are two families, two houses. Valwa and Volonte.”


Rakshasa’s eyes twinkled in delight. In Daeva, twins were rare, and actually partially looked down upon as ‘half a person ‘ because of some old myth or other. Rakshasa agreed that both he and Ifrit were halves of each other, but in his mind that was a strength.

“Really? Oh that’s marvelous! There’s something special about Royal Twins, isn’t there? You aren’t going to believe me, but you are actually the first royal twin other than myself or my brother I have met. I was starting to believe we were endangered!” He says, his quick smile a near permanent fixture on his face. “You know, while I am glad we aren’t identical, I do feel slightly cheated in the height department.” He says, glancing up at his brother who towers over Rakshasa. While it was clear he and Ifrit had a very good relationship, it was very possible Rakshasa had a slight chip on his shoulder over not towering over everyone. This was not helped by him being the second shortest person here.

“If it would make you feel taller, brother, I could put you on my shoulders.” Ifrits rumbles. Rakshasa spins around, surprised. “I say, Ifrit, did you just make a joke? Will wonders never cease.” He says, chuckling. He gives a conspiratorial glance to the queen. “Your Majesty, you have just witnessed history.”

At the queen’s assurances that Ifrit could enjoy the party, he gave a shy little half smile that didn’t seem to fit on his thuggish face. “I… yes, thank you, your majesty. Although, I don’t actually drink…” he says apologetically.

“I drink enough for the both of us, brother.” Rakshasa says quickly, clearly trying to save his brother from social anxiety.

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Scornerse
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Posts: 361
Founded: Dec 06, 2019
Civil Rights Lovefest

Postby Scornerse » Sun Feb 11, 2024 9:59 am

Sartana had gotten on Augusta's nerves and established an adversarial relationship. That much was the first step. She'd also succesfully received an acceptance of a dance from the Duke. That was the second. What complicated things was the not altogether unpredictably fact that Augusta's older sisterintervened, in defense of her sister. That made the matter two against one, at least at the moment, nothing that Sartana couldn't handle.

As Theodosia led her to the dance floor, she formulated an approach. Obviously it wouldn't be possible to win the woman over to her side against her own sister, so she was just as much of an obstacle to pull down. The quesfion was how to do so in the current moment and the answer, was delicately. The ideal outcome here was dance that showed off Sartana's own prowess, while leaving Theodosia looking beyond her depth. At ths same time, the Cheiftess had to look magaminous and paitent, even as she did her very best to embarrass her. A dance within a dance.

"Your sister's lucky, to have a husband such the Duke & I can't say he doesn't see plenty in her." Sartana said, looking around the dance floor, as she formulated a plan, not so subtly insulting her dance partner's sister. "I'm quite surprised I don't see you here with anyone, countless, Im sure, must apperciate your, maturity." The talk was a distraction intended to annoy, as she manuvered her around the floor.

Sartana's plan was straightforward, though covert. She would play the role of the careful, concious dance partner, until she had her victim where she wanted her. To an outsider, nothing would be amiss, infact it'd reflect well on both of them. But when the moment of opportunity came, when she maneuvered the two of them close enough to a server, she'd attempt subtly trip & shove the woman in their path, ideally causing whatever they carried to crash all over her & hopefully get enough of on her dress to force her to leave the ballroom to clean it. Then, at least for awhile, Theodosia wouldn't be there to protect her sister.

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Kingdom of Derita
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Founded: Jun 09, 2014
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Kingdom of Derita » Sun Feb 11, 2024 10:09 am

The Emperor nodded his head in understanding of King Frederick IV’s point. It was for him not impossible to recognize that their nations were two distinct polities. He tried to back track his thinking and rework his approach.

“I assure you, the empire does not see Genes aa anything less than our equal.” This was technically a lie, officially the Empire had never recognized any other nation as their equal, but when these words came from the Emperor they would doubtlessly hold weight. Particularly when it more reflected his own views rather than the nebulous entity of the Empire itself.

“Let us start again as you say. And with the strength of the Volonte and the brains of the Valwa, we shall secure for each of our nations new golden ages. Together, working in tandem. Let us re open our embassies, return to our warm relations and settle our differences. Yes, the empire can not stand alone, but that applies just as much to your kingdom. Genes is hope to peaceful rulers, but in the empire we are warriors.”

Anakele chuckled internally at this, noting that it was a metaphorical etymological statement— almost a joke. Frederick was a name that meant peaceful ruler, and the Genoise were famous, or infamous, for rarely blooding their hands themselves. Kekoa meanwhile was a name that meant warrior, and the Empire had a reputation for being… interventionist with its military operations— and the Emperor himself had been a famed general, expanding their borders. In a way it was a recognition of their strengths, and an acknowledgment of their weaknesses.

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Galimencia
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Posts: 442
Founded: Mar 15, 2021
Inoffensive Centrist Democracy

Postby Galimencia » Sun Feb 11, 2024 10:11 am

Genes, the Genoise Kingdom

"This car is an absolute disgrace!" sighed Henry as he turned around from the front seat to face the two other people who were seated at the back. "It has no speed, is excessive in size, and is a complete liability in every respect. Sometimes I wonder how you folks can travel around in this junk."

Prince Charles narrowed his eyes. He did not like the young aristocrat's tone. "The Royce has been a symbol of the Galimencian monarchy for several years. It is our official car for god's sake. Besides, don't you dare call it a 'junk', it's one of the most expensive car brands in the world."

Henry smirked and was about to say something witty but he was interrupted by Princess Sarah's annoyed voice. "Oh stop it you two. We have almost reached our destination, let's not bicker any further." Henry was disappointed but nodded and turned around. Prince Charles grinned a bit but kept quiet otherwise.

Despite having completely different personalities and a 4 year age gap, Henry and Prince Charles are close friends. Infact these two men are the second generations of their respective families to be friends. Henry's late father, the 15th Duke of Cornwall, was a very close friend of King Edward II. While Prince Charles was like any other aristocrat, calm, reserved, well spoken and private; Henry was a flashy young man, who liked flaunting his wealth and privilege. While Charles was very cautious about performing his duties diligently, Henry liked partying around while his employees took care of the family business. In short, these two men were almost contrasts of each other. Despite this they shared a deep bond of platonic love and affection.

Prince Charles and Princess Sarah were here on official business. They were acting as the official representative of the Galimencian monarchy, and in turn, the Galimencian government, to the coronation of King Frederick VI. But Henry wasn't. He simply convinced the King to tag along with the royal couple, who were secretly delighted to have him accompany them. Both Sarah and Charles enjoyed Henry's company. Charles, who had very limited company during his childhood due to his status, found a genuine friend in Henry, someone he can talk to without caring much about protocols. Sarah, on the other hand, was happy to be an elder sister to Henry, as he reminded her of her younger brother who died when she was just 10.

The sleek black Rolls Royce stopped in front of the grand palace. The trio emerged from the car and steadied themselves. Charles was wearing a costly tuxedo and a bow tie along with it. Sarah was dressed in a lavish white ball gown, white evening gloves and a stunning necklace. Henry wore a navy blue three piece suit, a blue tie, black gloves and a bright Rolex wristwatch. All of them looked absolutely beautiful in their respective dresses.

As they began walking towards the inside of the Palace, Henry stopped midway and as a result both Charles and Sarah paused as well, the couple evidently confused by Henry's actions. "What's wrong?" Sarah enquired.

Henry shrugged and replied "Well, I think I should leave you guys alone. After all you are here on official business, and I am just here to enjoy the party. Therefore I am not in a mood to bore myself with all these diplomatic talks."

Sarah rolled her eyes but said nothing. Charles chuckled but replied: "That actually makes sense. Well suit yourself man we won't bother you."

"But please" Sarah added "do not make a nuisance of yourself here. We are here on a very important business and we do not want to attract any negative publicity to us."

"Oh come on now. Trust me, I'll try very hard to restrain myself but I can not furnish any assurances." saying this Henry quickly slipped inside the hall without giving her any chance to reply. Sarah shook her head but smiled at the same time. Prince Charles offered his arm to Sarah who quickly took it. Then they too walked inside the room with a glowing smile on their faces.
Last edited by Galimencia on Sun Feb 11, 2024 10:14 am, edited 2 times in total.
An alt history early 20th century Britain, which has managed to survive well into the 21st century while keeping hold of all it's colonies(mostly). Co-Founder of IPDA, Member of CUSP. Permanent member of UN Security Council.
A military superpower.

NS Stats are not canon.

#FreeRojava

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Royal Genes
Ambassador
 
Posts: 1157
Founded: Feb 26, 2015
Capitalist Paradise

Postby Royal Genes » Sun Feb 11, 2024 11:15 am

Queen Nicolette had a gloved hand cover her mouth as she chuckled at the Shahzadehs’ jokes, of that of Ifrit offering to place his brother on his shoulders and Rakshasa assuring her that he drank enough for the both of them. They were, particularly Rakshasa, delightful boys— boys at least to the queen who had a hard time seeing anyone younger than sixty as a true adult. And she hoped that Rakshasa would be reassure by his lack of height. Particularly when he had several inches on others in attendance such as the queen herself. Indeed aside from the Deritains, the Giants siblings, Ifrit and the Chieftess the aristocrats of Genoise who coukd match him in height were few and far in between.

“Well, I shall instruct the servants to find something non-alcoholic, though in this palace that may be hard to find,” the Queen laughed again, “but fret not. We royal twins must stick together mustn’t we?”





Theodosia took to the dance floor with practice Grace. A life time of ballet and balls and parties meant she could easily handle herself on the dance floor. Seeing her and the Chieftess take to the dance floor, a few couples joined them, while most of the older crowd contented themselves to watch from the sidelines. Theodosia met Sartana’s eyes, sensing again the unease the Chieftess held towards the Duchess of Fairfield and wondered were it came from.

“I was married once,” Theodosia said nonchalantly, “I soon tired of my husband and we found it no longer advantageous to either of us soon after.” Most people in fact, even amongst the aristocracy of Genes who loved to gossip over the romantic entanglements of one another and the royals, had no idea that Theodosia had been married— for a few months— to J.J. Aurelains, that infamous businessman and schemer who business practices would have made Rakshasa look like a guppy.

It had been years ago— and had been hastily undone as the tide of geopolitics had turned. And Theodosia found she had no interest in repeating the process.

“As for Fairfield— I imagine he is more lucky to have her than the other way around. Though I’m sure you are well aware of that. My sister is usually not so careless when discarding her toys, though she must have done a number on you,” Theodosia said with a hint of pity and innuendo as they cross the ballroom, few noticing the movement as servants offered guests hors d’oeuvres and champagne on the dance floor’s edge.




King Frederick gave Emperor Kekoa his first genuine smile of the evening. He felt as if he had managed to move a mountain to him. Though the emperor made a good point. Genes too was in need of good allies. Many of their previous connections had died on the vibe with the lost of his sister and her family— marriage alliances broken by death or by nations that no longer existed. After his one wife, while she may have been royal, her country had not existed for some seventy years.

“Let us settle our differences then, and talk business.”




The arrival of Prince Charles and Princess Sarah, along with the Duke of Cornwall sparked more looks and evaluations of their attire— most agreeing that the prince and princess looked perfectly darling, with Augusta soothed by her husband, admiring the necklace of the princess. Though there were murmurs over Henry and his blue three piece suit. One countess scoffed as the sight, commenting that it was terribly unchic while his watch, being seen, was gaudy.
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