Arise, ye Association of Nations [COMPLETE]

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Prydania

Það er alltaf sólríkt í Býkonsviði
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Prydania
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OOC: This is the RP for the founding of the Association of Nations, a pro-democracy international organization that looks to promote and defend democratic values across the globe. Its founding was planned here! The AN has protocols for determining who qualifies as a democratic state, so no attempting to game the system. If your nation does not fit what the AN sets to out to champion you will be refused both OOC and IC.
Yet if your nation qualifies for the AN, ie is a republic or constitutional monarchy with democratic institutions, you are welcome to become a founding member by posting in this thread!


IC:

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3 January 2024
5:02 pm
On a Wednesday
Fjármagn, Esþursia


Kjell Svane and Sören Högh each watched curiously.

"I've always gotten the sense he didn't like formal functions," Sören remarked as he sipped a glass of water.

"I just think he likes talking to people," Kjell replied. Indeed, the hall itself was rather formal, if understated. It was, in actuality, very Prydanian in style. That wouldn't be a shock though, Fjármagn was a town that had clear heritage with Prydanian vikings all of those centuries ago.

"Já," Sören replied as he and the Prime Minister watched King Tobias mingle with delegates.
"He can be quite a chatter box when he wants to be."




Tobias felt comfortable. It wasn't so different here then it was back home in Prydania in January. And this city was, well... it was where his grandfather had spent some time in his youth. He had made it his mission to follow up on that before departing.
That, though, was for later. Right now, though? Now was something else. The start of something else. The inauguration of something that he hoped would, in time, achieve something he very much believed in, deeply. The inauguration of an organization that save people from suffering what he'd suffered. What his country had suffered through.

The Association of Nations.

THE CHARTER OF THE ASSOCIATION OF NATIONS
(3 January 2024)​

Preamble
THE GOVERNMENTS OF THE KINGDOM OF PRYDANIA, UNION OF GREAT ESÞURSIA, NORSIAN EMPIRE, SYRIXIAN EMPIRE, KHASTENIAN REPUBLIC, REPUBLIC OF ULTRAMONT, KINGDOM OF MINTORIA, UNITED TRIBES OF ESSALANEA, COMMONWEALTH OF AUBERVIJR, KINGDOM OF JUSTOSIA, REPUBLIC OF HEXASTALIA, KINGDOM OF MERILIA, REPUBLIC OF SOROVIA, IMPERIAL FEDERATION OF GOYANES, KALIVESE REPUBLIC, GREATER TARDINEANNI EMPIRE, IMPERIUN SUAVIDICI, STATE OF IRAELIA, KINGDOM OF ANDRENNE, PRINCIPALITY OF SIL DORSETT, STATE OF SEINOKU, FIVE PEOPLES OF GWLADCAN, GRAND DUCHY OF VIVANCO, REPUBLIC OF ZEMNAYA SVOBODA, AND GREATER ILIAN COALITION OF THE EASTERN LEAGUES OF ITREA AND ICETIO AND THE WESTERN REGENT KINGDOM OF TAVERIS AND ISALIA

Convinced that the pursuit of peace based upon justice and international cooperation is vital for the continued existence of human society and civilization,

Reaffirming their devotion to the spiritual and moral values which are the common heritage of their peoples and the true source of individual freedoms, political liberty and the rule of law, principles that form the basis of all true, genuine democracy,

Believing that, for the maintenance of these ideals and the protection of democratic institutions against those political forces set against the freedom of peoples, there is a need for a closer unity between the like-minded, democratic states of Eras,

Considering that, to respond to this need and the expressed aspirations of their peoples in this regard, it is necessary forthwith to create an organization that will bring democratic states in closer association for the protection of their ideals,

Have in consequence resolved to establish an Association of Nations consisting of a committee of Representatives of governments and of a consultative assembly, and have for this purpose adopted this Charter of the Association of Nations.

Article I. The Establishment of the Association of Nations
A multinational and intergovernmental organization, the Association of Nations, hereinafter referred to as “the Association,” shall hereby be established by this Charter.

The action of the Association under this Charter shall be effected through the instrumentality of an established Association Assembly and a rotating Association Council, with a permanent Secretariat.

Article II. Aim of the Association of Nations
The aim of the Association is to achieve greater unity and cooperation between its member-states for the purpose of realizing and safeguarding the ideals and principles which are their common democracy and their commitments to the liberties of peoples.

This aim shall be pursued by the organs of the Association by discussion of questions of common concern and by agreements and common action in economic, legal, political, and administrative and in the maintenance and further realization of human rights and fundamental freedoms.

Participation in the Association shall not affect the collaboration of its members in the work of other international organizations and unions to which they are partied.

Article III. On Membership
The members of the Association shall be those nation-states that are signatories to this Charter. Members of the Association shall be hereinafter referred to as “the Member-States.”

Every Member-State of the Association must accept the principles of the rule of law, of free and fair democracy.

States within the Association who allow their democratic systems of government to degrade and fall victim to authoritarian power structures will be suspended by a simple majority vote of the Association’s Member-States and expelled by a ⅔ majority vote of Member-States.

States may apply to be observers in the AN without a membership vote.

Article IV. The Association Assembly
The Association Assembly shall consist of appointed Representatives of the Member-States of the Association.

The Association Assembly shall meet at stated intervals from time to time as occasion may require at the Seat of the Association or at such other place as may be decided upon.

At meetings of the Association Assembly, each Member-State shall be entitled to one vote and may possess within the Assembly no more than three Representatives.

The Association Assembly shall elect one member from itself as Secretary General of the Association. The office of Secretary General will then rotate among all Association Assembly Representatives every three months, following the list of member states.

The sitting Secretary General shall appoint deputies to aid in their duties as they see fit.

Article V. The Seat of the Association
The Seat of the Association is established at CITY, NATION.

The Association Council may, at any time, decide that the Seat of the Association be established elsewhere.

Article VI. Association Committees
The Association Secretariat may, at any time, propose the creation of an Association Committee—a subsidiary organization of the Association that serves to, in any capacity deemed necessary, further the cause of the Association.

The creation of any new committees is subject to the majority approval of both the Association Council and the Association Assembly.
 
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Suresh Rajaratnam gleefully entered the room where the delegates were conversing, alongside a few aides. He had come essentially alone, without a major escort. He gazed briefly at the Prydanians. Early last year, the SVM, the Empire's sovereign wealth fund, had invested in certain promising Prydanian tech startups in Haland and Keris. They would go on to do the same in the Norsian cities of Henebruck and Luscova - all part of a comprehensive initiative from the mind of Ananda Sahab himself. The goal? Show the world's smaller nations that the Empire was no longer interested in their economic submission. That they were willing to work on equal terms; to see themselves as part of a larger continent; a larger world.

When the Prydanians contacted them early on in the AN's founding process, therefore, Dr. Rajaratnam of course jumped at the chance; and, however many months later - in a way, to him it was all a blur - here he was, at the inauguration of an organization that could very well serve as a turning point - nay, an inflection point - for modern geopolitical history. An organization he had dreamed of for decades whilst working in the Foreign Office and in academia, and whilst writing his books.

An Association of Nations.
 
Tobias didn't strike much of a Royal image. He was wearing a grey and black houndstooth suit, formal but nothing hinting at a regal image aside from a golden stag head lapel pin with a cross between the antlers. It was a formal but understated look he'd gotten from Axle.

"Dr. Rajaratnam," he said happily.

He was happy to see Syrixian representation. Not just because he looked up to and respected the Syrixian Emperor, but also because he knew Suresh was someone who was amenable to the AN project.
More than that though, he was happy to see Syrixia and Prydania growing closer. The two nations had, over the past year, proven that mutual benefit could be attained with the right focus. As Syrixian investments helped Prydanian companies, so did Prydanian companies expand into Syrixia. Rax fast food, Sayfansinn groceries, and Heimviður furniture had Syrixian locations now.

Tobias smiled pleasantly and extended a hand.
"It's very nice to see you. I'm honoured that the Empire chose you to represent it here."
 
Another black limousine pulled up in front of the building reserved for the Fjármagn summit. The only thing that really separated this one from the others that had dropped off their own dignitaries was the little Khastenian flags flying from the front end of the car.

An aide waiting on standby rushed over to open the back passenger door. Sidorov Kolibin, the President of the Khastenian Republic, stepped out. He was greeted with the clicking of cameras from news crews from all over the world as he walked into the building, shaking hands with foreign dignitaries. Smiling and engaging in small talk here and there.

When the Khastenians had been approached by the Esthursians and Prydanians with the prospects for this new international organization, Sidorov had put the motion before the houses of the Sobirat. According to the Republic’s constitution, while the President was empowered as chief diplomat of the state, he still required the Sobirat’s nod of approval before entering into alliances or other international organizations, or declaring any formal state of war. Both houses of the legislature approved, in the end. Though Sidorov held little doubt they would turn down a proposal like this. He had been in Khastenian politics for decades. He knew how these people worked, how the system operated.

Khastenia was an idealistic nation at its heart, but pragmatic thinking kept that idealism afloat. This new organization was a chance to safeguard and advance democratic ideals and interests, yes. But Khastenian interests, too, could be advanced. From Sidorov’s perspective, they were one in the same.

Sidorov wore a simple black suit over a white shirt and black tie. His beard and mustache were gone. His white hair was combed back. Every little detail in appearance was accounted for.

As Sidorov walked into the room amongst all the mingling delegates and dignitaries. There were plenty of faces he recognized, but his first point of order was to reach for the refreshments table. A glass in hand, he walked over to Kjell Svane—the Kingdom of Prydania’s prime minister.

Privet, Prime Minister Svane,” Sidorov greeted the Prydanian head of government with a warm smile, extending a hand for Svane to take with his own. “With the signing of these accords, your government is beginning something that I think will give people the world over cause for hope. You must be very proud of this accomplishment. And I take it His Majesty is as well.”
 

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Expédition du premier ministre de l'Outremont à Fjármagn, Éthursie

January 1, 2024

Dear Sir/Madam,


The Republic of Ultramont, as recommended by the Commission of State and as endorsed by the Chancellor of Ultramont, herein advances its intentions to partake in the establishment of the ASSOCIATION OF NATIONS in Fjármagn, Esthursia as official member-state. Ultramont understands itself as a patron of liberal democracy in the northern Aurorias where its civilization has worked tirelessly to contain the threat of authoritarianism. Moreover, its history paints a potent image of how democratic rights and responsibilities enriches a liberal society, and how the struggle against oppression nourishes civil freedom.

As diplomatic attaché and permanent representative to Fjármagn, I dispatch my Commissioner of State and Deputy Premier Jean-Michelle Payette to the conference prepared for January 3rd, 2024. For all general proceedings following this ceremony, Monsieur Payette will arrange for his chargés d'affaires to attend in his place.

May it please you to accept, Sir/Madam, my warmest salutations.

Jacques Beaudouin,
Premier of Ultramont

Fjármagn, Esthursia
3 janvier 2024


Deputy Premier Jean-Michel Payette arrived by diplomatic jet in Esthursia with two aides and his personal translator. Fjármagn was a city dreadfully unknown to him and his entourage, though Payette was thankfully able to find his Association of Nations liaison at the airport to guide him towards the assembly hall where his nation would partake in the exciting inauguration of the Association of Nations. A monument of Eras democracy. In a 2021 Roland Cruise which had been set aside for his arrival, Payette opted to drive himself to the conference, much to the disapproval of his diplomatic staff. He was quickly discouraged by the fact that Esthursians drove on the left side of the road, and that it was just as cold here as it was in Gabréal.

"Do you know where you're going?" The liaison inquired, staring indignantly at the deputy prime minister.
"Obviously." He smirked, his tires skating across the icy roads, "because I have you to guide me. Anyway, am I to turn left or right up here?"
"You should have simply allowed me to drive you, Monsieur Payette." The liaison scoffed.
"Hey man, you're getting paid to let me do your job for you. You must have gratitude-o-phobia." lectured Payette. "Whatever, I can just use maps on my phone."

It had only been a month and some since the Esthursian delegation had been in Gabréal to oversee the signing of the Esthursia-Ultramont deal, an agreement which had spurred a splendid relationship of reciprocity between the two nations. Now, it was Ultramont's turn to demonstrate its commitments.

Once the car had pulled up to the steps of the assembly hall, The liaison guided Payette, his two aides and his translator into the building. He threw the keys to the Cruise backwards expecting somebody to catch them, but instead they plopped into a pile of snow on the road and sat there unattended. The car would later be reported stolen.

"Who are all these people? Why, I know him." Payette whispered, "the King of Prydania is here? They sent their sovereign?"

One of Payette's aides turned to him. "He has given a lot of interest to this organization. You know it's only been seven years since democracy was restored in Prydania."

"Why didn't Jacques or André come then? Countries are sending their fucking monarchs!"
"Maybe to see if you can keep it together when actually doing something important, for once?"

Payette harrumphed. "Oh, is that what they think then? I'll show them who can keep it together."

Payette took an eager step forwards towards the crowd of delegates and then came to a sudden halt.

"Mr. Payette?" Inquired his aide.
"Uh-h-h. Right so who's who, again?"

The aide sighed. "The two people at the King's side are Dr. Rajaratnam of Syrixia, and Mr. Kolibin of Khastenia."
"Oh-h-h. That's Sidorov Kolibin? I hardly recognized him without his beard and moustache."
"Obviously." The aide muttered. "It was I who took the liberty of memorizing the list of attendees for your convenience."
"Yeah, whatever." Payette scoffed again. "Why don't you go dig through the refreshments for something vegan? Your passive aggression is rubbing off on me."

Jean-Michel parted from his entourage and went to join the assemblage. He began with the Khastenian President.

"Monsieur Kolibin, what a pleasure it is to finally meet you. I am Jean-Michel Payette, Deputy Premier of Ultramont. We were pleased to hear about your nation's work on the Iolanta embargo. It is for such breaches in democracy such as Iolanta's apartheid policy that we come together to support this conference, don't you think?" He smiled.
 
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3 January 2024
Wednesday at 1730
Armenalis, Alnaria
The Royal Palace-Grand Parlor


In the grand parlor, King Fenris, Queen Galendra, Prince Nurnedir, and Princess Vivika watched the buzz of the new Association of Nations.

"Huh, they actually managed it this time." the Prince said with a chuckle.

Fenris gave a nod, but Galendra spoke. "This time?" She asked. "Is the attempted founding of world government something that happens often?"

"Rarely in public, but yes." Replied the King. "I've seen dozens of upstarts try their hand at it only to be brought down by the cold hammer of reality."

"Hey Dad, did you know its not a requirement to talk like a movie villain." Nurendir said, deftly avoiding a blow to the back of his head.

Fenris let out a sigh. "Anyway, yes its been attempted, but it seems like this will be the first time it works."

Vivika's eyes were fixed to the screen. "Gaiseric has led our people into many new alliances. Do you think he will bring us to this one?"

"I don't think so my dear." Replied the King. "This association is based upon...different principles that Gaiseric or I hold."

"Different?" She said turning to him.

"Hmm, well democratic If I'll be frank." The King said uneasily.

"Democracy." She repeated back. "Government for the people." She recalled from a book read long ago.

"Of, for and from." Nurendir corrected.

"Elections and all that, yes?" Vivika asked.

"Yes." Said Nurendir. "I don't see Gaiseric calling for elections any time soon." He chuckled.

"No." Said Vivika seriously. "No not for us, but why not for you? This land hold elections?"

Fenris and Nurendir exchanged glances, but it was Galendra who spoke. "Other nations consider our system too restrictive, they see too many of the old families in our politics or in the bureaucracy."

"Powerful clans rule." Said Vivika with a laugh. "All the pomp and fine things here and you rule the same way as we do on the steppe." She said laughing harder.

"Yes, it is similar." Said the King with no humor in his voice. However social mobility is possible here outside great deeds of force, and furthermore our system has worked for thousands of years.

"And so has mine. Replied Vivika."

3 January 2024
Wednesday at 2145
Armenalis, Alnaria
The Royal Palace-Lounge


"Viv get under your skin earlier pop?"

"Our institutions are strong, and the monarchy has provided to our people for since we first came to these shores." Said the King.

"She never said they didn't." Nurendir said before taking a drink. "But I think you just didn't like the implication of being called primitive."

The King let out a snort. "Monarchy is primitive. As primitive as it gets. With the wrong monarch, or weak institutions it can do more damage in less time than any flawed republic, but with the right one..." He started before stopping to think. "With the right one you'll do more good in a year than a democracy will do in a century. And forgive me if I don't want any random roadside conman burning it all down"

"That may be true." Nurendir replied. "Still its a hell of a gamble isn't it."

"Most things in life are." Replied Fenris. "I've been blessed to have you waiting after me. If it had only been your sister it woul..." He stopped himself. " Well anyway. Let's table this topic, its getting late."
 
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Amidst a backdrop of heightened global tensions, Willhelm Stæ̂dtler, the High Chancellor of Mintoria, had entered the hall in Fjármagn, having undertaken to arrive to Esthursia, where the signing of the Charter for the Association of Nations was set. There were rumours of discussions about such an organization being held that had made their way to Rabenshiyuviel*, although the extent of those discussions were not yet known to them. Now, with the signing of the Association’s Charter, it was out in the open.

As far as Stæ̂dtler could see, this was a moment for his nation to throw its weight, a chance to reaffirm Mintoria’s commitment to democratic values, and what better way to do this than to become one of the Association’s founding member-states? To most of the outside world, this would be seen as a positive, especially now as war and war have sprung up from place to place all over Eras in last few years. But there was a political motivation as well; his party, the MVP*, and the governing coalition which he led was losing favour with the electorate, a consequence of his unpopularity brought about by his domestic policies. He hopes that the affirmation of democracy and willingness to work with the global community in upholding it will be beneficial for the coalition come the next general election, scheduled to occur before the end of this year. And on a deeper level, Stæ̂dtler did at least believe in the virtues of freedom, liberty, and the rule of law.

Meanwhile, King Matthias VIII had also arrived to the hall, alongside a guard to accompany him. Though his outward appearance and demeanour didn’t show it, he wasn’t quite fond of meeting with others. The monarch didn’t feel comfortable being in social settings; he preferred being in quiet spaces, either alone or with his wife, the Queen, and his children. However, he understood that meeting with his foreign counterparts and other leaders was necessary to fulfill his role as head of state, as well as the significance of his presence in an important event such as this. And in any case, at least he wouldn’t be alone, as the Chancellor, whom he meets with weekly in private audiences at Eigenburg*, was there, and would be signing the charter with him. The King drunk a glass of water as he walked around and greeted any world leader that came his way.


*(1) The capital of Mintoria.
*(2) MVP (Middelriykische Vœ̂lkespartei/Mintorian People’s Party): A center-right, Messianist democratic, and liberal conservative political party in Mintoria, currently part of the governing coalition in power since 2019.
*(3) Palace of Eigenburg: One of several royal residences in Mintoria; particularly the working residence of the Mintorian monarch.
 
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Fjármagn, Esþursia


Gaiseric took in the sights around him as he prepared himself mentally for what was to come, Esthursia was a curious place with its tall and ancient buildings and neatly arranged processionals. The country seemed to project pretentiousness, stiffness, and dignity all in the same instance, and even within that mess of contradictions it somehow seemed to mostly pull it off. For Gaiseric this was the first time he had stepped onto Aurorian soil, the Young Continent becoming more relevant in the last few years than many would like.

The Rayvostokan situation had nearly destroyed the Luscova pact and had caused changes to the organization which was now likely permanent, hopeful expansion abandoned in Favour of more pragmatic consolidation. The chaotic archipelago seemed to loom large over the rest of the world, its energy chaotic and infectious, there was certainly something unique about this strange collection of continents, a fitful soul that had all the strength of wildfire.

There had been many questions in the wake of the announcement of the AN’s founding on the steppe there was a curious period of uncertainty. Many wondered whether Gaiseric would choose to partake in this new experiment, his critics eagerly awaited confirmation that the Volkmann king was indeed the autocrat they claimed. Yet here he was ready to tie the future of his nation to the curious experiment of democracy.

Of course, it was a misconception that Essalanean life was inimical to such a system, did the clans not elect their own chieftains? These positions could be retained only with the support of the whole and any could challenge a sitting ruler if their cause was considered worthy. Even Gaiseric had been required to prove his case before the people when he pursued the crown of the high king. The clans were by nature independent-minded, rambunctious, and freedom-loving, who better to champion the cause of democracy?

For Gaiseric's part, he considered membership in the AN a chance to cement his vision for the future, when he was gone the people would elect a new king and the Moot would govern with the ascent of the clans. Democracy was the most logical path for Essalanea, the wild south would remain chaotic and vast, and its people would live and die as Essalan intended, free and with all opportunities to forge a prosperous future.

“Gai! Dumkopf! You are thinking loud enough for me to hear the rusting cogs connect!” Magnar Hureg growled snapping the king from his thoughts

“Sorry old man, just caught up in the moment, this is a momentous occasion” Gaiseric replied snapping out of his silent reverie

“Aye, and it has an open bar if I'm not mistaken, and a good spread to boot! Word of advice from an old man, live in the moment while you have the chance, thoughts do not beget action” Magnar muttered with a grandfatherly chuckle

With that the Hureg chieftain strode past, spry despite his 78 years of life, the old bear seemed eternal despite his age. Gaiseric sometimes wondered if he might continue forever, like an evergreen tree, but that would of course not happen, in time he would pass from the world and his heir would take his place. But for now, the great bear of the south still drew breath and was about to test his famous liver against the alcoholic delights of an Esthursian banquet.

“My lord if I may, you are doing it again,” Vargen said in a quiet but respectful tone

The younger Hureg was now 24 years of age and the spitting image of his father, save for the blonde hair he had inherited from his mother. Possessed of the same immense vitality the young man had thrived as he took on countless political offices. His tenure as Essalanea’s representative to the LP had unceremoniously ended thanks to an ill-received speech, but the young man was quickly recovering and though he could not say it, Gaiseric was certain that the man might one day be elected high king.

“You took a knife for me Vargen, call me Gaiseric, Ziu knows everyone else does” Gaiseric replied calmly

With that the two strode inside, magnar had already vanished to the nearest open bar the old man content to let the young take the reins while he indulged. Gaiseric approached his longtime ally and friend, Tobias of Prydansk with a warm smile forming on his face despite any attempt at decorum. The two men had formed great alliances together and their time hunting on the steppe had cemented a bond that was stronger than Essalanean steel. Gaiseric remembered his friends' discussions well; the lessons imparted that modernity was more than just shining buildings and fancy cars.

Gaiseric remembered Tobias’s description of Bykonsvidi hospital, a great house of healing that the Essaleanean king had sought to emulate when Neuanfang general had been established. Modernity was not the trappings of the powerful and the rich, it was an educated, prosperous, and happy people who had the means to forget their destinies, Gaiseric had never forgotten the stag king's lesson.

“Toby! Yet again the stag king leads the world not with a blade or gun but with moral authority! Allow me to introduce Vargen Hureg a most promising student of mine” Gaiseric declared ebulliently

Introductions made, Gaiseric waited with silent anxiety, he wondered how the stag king would receive his unknowing heir, in any case, the die was cast.
 
Fjármagn, Esthursia

Johannes van der Capellen had never visited Esthursia before. Yet now, after a brief flight from the capital, Johannes and a group of others touched down in Esthursia in the late morning. The signing of the Charter was certainly a different experience for the Chancellor, who was entering the fourth year in his six year term. Johannes had decided to travel with a reduced security detail, and only a few aides - with his main aide being Mitchel Hartjes. Although Mitchel was a good 6 years younger than Johannes, the two were close friends, and had worked together in politics long before Johannes’ election as Chancellor. Mitchel was a trained diplomat, and had assisted Christoffel Sempier - Aubervijr’s delegate to the UAS - nearly two years ago.

Another black limousine pulled up outside the building. Just above each headlight, sat a small black, green and white flag; the Commonwealth Tricolour, as it is known. A member of Johannes’ security detail quickly moved to the rear passenger-side door. He opened the door, and out stepped Johannes, dressed in a navy blue suit, a white shirt and a black tie. His suit was topped off with a pair of aviator shades; fitted with brown lenses and a gold frame. Mitchel exited from the rear driver-side door, which was also opened for him. Mitchel, if anything, looked more like a Chancellor than Johannes did - wearing a black suit, with a white shirt and red tie. The two men stood by the car, conversing for a moment. Johannes then briefly spoke to the head of his security detail, before Johannes and Mitchel proceeded towards the building, ignoring the incessant clicks of cameras and overlapping voices of the camera crews as they went.

Aubervijr, historically, had never been a nation who went out of their way to be involved with the outside world. Rather, they had a tendency to quietly keep to themselves. However, a big part of Johannes’ election campaign was a guarantee that Aubervijr would become more involved in global politics. Johannes attempted this with the UAS, and now, the AN seemed an even better opportunity. Even so, Johannes believed the AN was regardless, what Eras had been missing; a solid link between the democratic world.

Johannes took off his shades and entered the building first, closely followed by Mitchel, and warmly shook hands with each of the foreign dignitaries. He conversed with most, albeit briefly and certainly with difficulty, as he spoke Mercanti with a heavy accent. This was much to the amusement of Mitchel, who spoke several languages, and fluently. Once inside, Johannes set about greeting world leaders, and treated himself to a glass of water, as did Mitchel - and the two continued to speak between themselves to pass the time. Their mood, especially once inside, was light and cheerful; as it had been all day. Despite the importance of the summit, to the pair, it was almost like a holiday they had never been on, but they knew there was more to do than admire the scenery. At least it was a break from Aubervijan politics.
 
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Fjármagn, Esthursia

The Royal Limousine, with a Justosian National Standard on the left front, & the Royal Standard on the right front, briskly pulled up to the front of the eventful building. King Carlos Francisco III was briefed over & over again by the Foreign Ministry liason on the who, where, what, why, all the logistics of this rather important international event. Ok very important. Carlos had only ever met King Tobias who he liked. He also hoped the other heads of state, especially his fellow monarchs, were as cordial. This was House Francisco's first interaction with some of these royal houses.

"That's enough, Miguel. Consider me fully briefed."

Carlos adjusted his royal blue (flag color) sash. Pinned on the center of the sash was a gold symbol of state. Space saved as it was also the House CoA. With that was the Royal Signet Ring. Again a small CoA in the center. The crest was gold. As was the band. Behind it were blue, very small sapphires with a center border of white gold. Yes it's as expensive as you're probably thinking. First impressions were important. While Carlos wasn't the ardent nationalist his padre was, he knew better than to dress like an elected head of state.

"Kings and queens should look the part at least sometimes."

He thought this to himself as he went over the dossier one last time before exiting the limo with guards in toe.

He waved at the cameras & flashed the cordial royal smile. He walked up the steps, stag of course, to the event. He lastly wondered to himself how the foreign intel agencies of these nations had rated Justosia. It was finally liberalizing, albeit slower than the average for a nationalist, right leaning, crown republic. His first mission is representing Justosia & dispelling any negative stereotypes. Another thing about Carlos is that he didn't mind the press. Be they domestic or international.

"Hello! It's beautiful here!"

Carlos knew better than to remark on how cold it was. Across the pond was almost like another world. Imposing buildings. Ancient. Stoic. Impressive. Upon briefly speaking to the press, he made his way into the building, to where the foreign dignitaries had gathered. He saw Toby. He smiled at the site of a familiar face.
 
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The skies above Fjármagn were gray and cloudy on this particular day. Imre Pethes, President of Hexastalia, took this as a good sign that he was where he was supposed to be: Esthursia, and not somewhere much less dreary. He glanced back at the woman riding next to him, Amanda Voss, Director of Foreign Affairs. She was fussing about one of the buttons on her suit.

“Do you need a new button? I’ve got a sewing kit in my bag.” Pethes asked.

The young Director released the button from her grip and looked to Pethes, “No. It’s just an anxiety thing, don’t worry about it.”

“Anxiety? Why are you anxious, Amanda?”

Voss scoffed, “Why do you think I’m anxious, Imre? This is only the biggest event of my career!” She sighed, “I think I’ve earned the right to be a bit anxious.”

“You seem a bit more than a little bit nervous. Amanda, you wouldn’t have been put in a position that Ilona didn’t think you could handle. And Ilona’s cabinet has proven to be very effective. What makes you think you’re any less capable?”

“I mean-it’s just… I don’t know.” She slumped in her seat. “What if I mess up?”

“Director Voss, you are a very wonderful woman and a better diplomat. Take some deep breaths. We’re charting new waters here. It’s normal to be anxious in this situation but you cannot let that get the best of you.” He took a deep breath of his own and continued, “Just remember, every diplomat, no matter how experienced, has always felt jittery before a crucial meeting such as this. You’ve got to turn those jitters into something else though. Determination, preferably. Trust yourself, trust your instincts, and most of all trust the work you and your team have put into this meeting. You’ve got this, Amanda.”

After a momentary lapse in the conversation, enough for a few deep breaths, Amanda spoke up again, “Thank you, Imre. It really does mean a lot that you think so highly of me. I’ll do my best, just like I always do. You’re good at this whole, motivational speech thing.”

“You learn a thing or two as a father. Truth be told, I’d rather be back home with my son right now.”

Voss turned in her seat and raised a questioning eyebrow, “Then why are you here, Imre?”

The question was dismissed with a wave of a hand. “It’s my job, Amanda. Ilona may be the one calling the shots but I’m still the President. I can’t say I enjoy it much. She was always much more comfortable in the spotlight than me. But that’s beside the point.” Pethes stroked his beard for a moment before continuing, “I will say I am quite interested in meeting the attendees of this particular event. Prydania’s King, Syrixia’s Emperor, and the Khastenian President all in one place. Who will I talk to first, I wonder?”

The car pulled up to the curb and the two delegates disembarked. As he stepped out, President Pethes spotted an irregularity among the snow. A small glimmer that, when he picked it up, revealed itself to be a set of car keys. Judging by the lack of nearby cars, Pethes had a feeling that somebody was going to have a bad day. Pocketing them quickly, Pethes returned to his colleague and together the two hastened to enter the hall.
 
While Queen Sofía had been to Esthursia before she had never been for the purpose of diplomacy and international relations. In the past Rafael, Catarina, or Alexandre managed state visits but as the current monarch the duty now fell to her which left her deep in thought. Sofía was so lost in thought that she did not hear what Adrian Monteverde, the Merilian diplomat to the Association of Nations, was trying to tell her until he addressed her again with a slightly raised voice “your highness…”

Turning to the diplomat, Sofía inquired “hmm? What is it, Adrian?”

“I was trying to give you a rundown of who would be present at this summit and what would be discussed. Is everything all right?”

Letting out a sigh, Sofía looked out at the city of Fjármagn, “I was thinking about how Catarina, Alexandre, and I discussed at length how Merilia and its people have always been content to keep to ourselves and our sphere of influence on Icenia, Kian, and the southern reaches of Meterra. But now this newly created Association of Nations provides us with an opportunity to step up on the international stage and work with other nations in safeguarding the ideals of democracy. And not only that but this can help us strengthen our own interests back at home.”

Adrian took the papers in his lap and put them away, “you’re talking about the delicate balance of power, aren’t you?”

Sofía replied with a subtle nod, “the Crown has always strived to listen to the voice and will of the people while trying to curb the worst elements of democracy. By throwing our support behind the Association of Nations, it shows to our people that the Crown remains committed to the ideals of democracy even when it intervenes in affairs of state.”

As the conversation continued about matters of state and what the summit would entail, the state vehicle made its way through the streets of Fjármagn and pulled up in front of the assembly hall. Sofía smoothed out her dress, grabbed her coat, and stepped out of the vehicle to smile and wave to the reporters. As she made her way inside the assembly hall she muttered under her breath about the chilly weather. Once inside she grabbed a glass of champagne and made the rounds greeting monarchs, heads of state, and diplomats.



* Prince Rafael is Sofía's father who abdicated the throne in 2018. Sofía ascended the throne in 2018 and was elected Queen in 2021.
* Crown Princess Catarina and Crown Prince Alexandre are two of the three Sovereigns of Merilia and Sofía's royal counterparts.
 
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Jean-Michel excused himself from a conversation he was having and caught the arrival of the Hexistalian President, Imre Pethes. His aide had returned to his side, holding a plate of potato wedges and a baked vegetable dip.

"Do you want some of this, Monsieur Payette?" Asked the aide.
"Not in your life will you witness me eating that soy-infested crap. Unlike you, I actually enjoy food instead of forcing myself to eat bullshit for the sake of the bull." He smirked.
"Actually I went vegan because I used to weigh 115 kilos. Shed my weight back down to 75."
"Wonderful, now you can quit your self-harm and join the rest of the population."
"Fuck you, Jean-Michel. Get cancelled!" The aide cursed, storming off in the other direction.

Payette raised a brow and turned back towards Pethes, who was whispering something into the ear of the woman accompanying him.

"Brother can't take a joke, it seems." He mumbled to himself. "That's too bad. Because I have no idea who that person with the Hexistalian President is and he's the only one who could help me. Oh well."

Payette moved towards Pethes and Voss, who seemed to be fiddling with one of the buttons on her chemise. He presented his hand out to the two, inviting them to shake it while also extending to them his warmest greetings.

"Hello Monsieur Pethes, it is an honour to make your acquaintance at last. Rather cold outside today, no? And who is this fair Madame? Your wife, Monsieur?" Payette inquired. "It is for such a marvelous occasion that we gather today. Speaking of which, today marks about a year or so now since my party and I were reelected. Sometimes democracy has a habit of working in your favour!"
 
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Fjármagn, Esthursia

Onneli Eskelinen sat in the back of the taxi on her way to to the Fjármagn summit. She had been to Esthursia several times working for the Ministry for Foreign Affairs, but never for an event like this. In the car with her were her colleagues Iivari Lehkosuo, Jukka Pasanen, and Sofia Alexsson. They had all been sent by the Sorovian government to represent Sorovia at the summit, Eskelinen had been to several conferences in Esthursia before, but her colleagues were less experienced in topics like this. Originally, Kanvera, the Sorovian Minister for Foreign Affairs was to accompany them to the conference, however, he had gotten hammered with President Ylitalo earlier which rendered him unable to attend.

"So.. How's the weather?" Pasanen broke the silence in the car.

Alexsson looked up at Pasanen who was sitting shotgun "Is that seriously the best small talk you can do right now? We can all see how gloomy it is outside."

"Clearly someone's enjoying their time here." Pasanen responded, looking outside the car window.

Eskelinen sighed, they had been driving for quite some time. Apparently they had all decided that they needed to buy the most expensive hotel in the region. It did not help that several nights prior Alexxson and Lehkosuo had convinced them all to spend loads of cash on gourmet food and ended up going on a shopping spree in Weskerby. It wasn't bad, just ended up back at the hotel hungover after the obscene amount of drinking which took place. 'Maybe Kanvera had gotten hammered with the president after hearing about their drinking?' Eskelinen thought to herself.

"It's warmer than I expected. I would've thought we'd be snowed in with it looking so gloomy out here" Eskelinen looked at the buildings outside the car. She held one of the bags that she had been given by her bosses earlier in the day before leaving the hotel.

"Gloomy, just like home." Pasanen chuckled, he was also clearly bored out of his mind. He could see the busy area around the building where the meeting would be taking place, for some reason they hadn't gotten fancy cars like the other delegations attending the conference.

Lehkosuo went through the papers inside the folders of his briefcase, "Do you think we're freaking out the driver?"

"What do you mean?" Eskelinen responded, clearly not understanding what Lehkosuo meant by what he was saying.

"I mean, imagine you're a taxi driver yeah? And suddenly a group of four people fully dressed up got in the car with briefcases, bags, and whatever else and began speaking Sorovian. One of them points at their phone and tells you to drive there. Honestly I'd be pretty freaked out, we haven't spoken any Atlish to this guy since we got in this car!" Lehkosuo sighed after saying all of that, he had been quite bored from the amount of time in this car.

Alexsson replied to Lehkosuo "Well if he wasn't freaked out I'm sure he is after all that..."

Lehkosuo chuckled and looked over at the driver, clearly he had no clue what any of them had been saying for the past thirty minutes. Pasanen suddenly signaled to the driver to pull over so they could get out of the car.

"We could still get driven there?" Eskelinen responded, it wasn't a far walk, but she didn't want to get out of the car now.

Pasanen looked back at her, "Well I don't want to get our very useful taxi driver another reason to want to throw himself off a bridge. Imagine the traffic. Anyways, I don't want us to be the only delegation arriving to this conference in a taxi."

"Fair." Eskelinen unbuckled her seatbelt, the car parked on the side of the road and they all exited the vehicle.

Pasanen looked at his watch, "Looks like we're gonna be early.. Surprising. Looks like I'll be giving that driver a five stars."

They all began walking down the sidewalk to the conference, upon arriving to the building they were quickly allowed into the building after showing security their passes. The warm breeze of the building quickly hit them after they walked through the door. They all kept walking past the reporters, and soon they arrived at the main entrance to the hall, and were greeted to the sight of many other delegations, diplomats, and heads of state who had arrived before them.

"Fuck they beat us here..." Alexsson looked at the other delegations, clearly they were having the time of their lives over here chatting with one another and eating.

Eskelinen looked nervously at the assembly hall, before looking back at the others, "Do you think we're a little.. under dressed? Everyone here looks so formal with their suits and fancy whatever they have on! We're wearing button up shirts with grey sweater vests, we look like we just got off a 9-5 at the office!"

"Lets try not to think about that. We've never been to something like this so let's not ruin our first time at such an event." Lehkosuo sighed, walking forward to the seats designated for the Sorovian delegation near the corner of the assembly hall. The others followed him as they sat in their seats organizing their materials on the tables.

Alexsson opened one of the bags she was given and was confused when she gave it another glance, "Chocolate..? Seriously? Is that what they give us?"

Pasanen looked up from his seat and looked up at her, "Well, it's a Sorovian tradition to gift chocolate to important leaders and diplomats.. no? Apparently the Ministry thinks that we should be giving out chocolate."

Alexsson, who was still contemplating the chocolate boxes in the bag, whispered, "Are we seriously expected to give out chocolate to people here? Is this really some kind of tradition or did we just run out of better gifts?"

Lehkosuo, attempting to lighten the mood, whispered, "Well, atleast we'll stand out."

Eskelinen chuckled a bit to Lehkosuo's remarks, "Yeah, the delegation who sits in the corner who looks like they just stumbled into a business meeting after a casual Friday and has a bag of chocolates. I bet that'll make us look very flamboyant."

As they waited for the summit to commence, the Sorovian delegation observed interactions between different delegations. Some where engaged in serious discussion while others seemed to be enjoying their time here and sharing jokes and laughter. Pasanen, after taking a glance at the rest of the room, remarked, "Looks like we missed the pre-summit networking session. Maybe we should've taken that taxi a bit faster."
 
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The King shivered as he made his way towards the post-Revolutionary hall, sleet landing on his thinning white hair. The delegation, easily five to ten strong, were all somewhat aware of old Arthur's being out in the cold at all times, even despite his continued insistence - stoic or in denial, the difference was irrelevant - that "a little slush would not hold him back." He had been in and out of hospital notably more in recent years, and needed rest for a week before attending; even Osborne was realising how different nearly 94 was to the mid-80s Arthur he'd known when he was first elected. Nevertheless, the old King was stubborn as a mule even in youth, and by now, would've probably come even if he had to shovel his way through snow to reach the doors in a Helmark blizzard.

Iðunn Tórsdóttir, Helmark's firebrand nationalist Ástjórn*, had insisted on representing Helmark - and had been surprised when Osborne was actually relatively warm to the idea - and now found herself staring out towards the plethora of global leaders and delegations. This was by far the biggest diplomatic step in her career - even if Osborne's directions heavily limited her scope.

"You have been waiting many mornings for today, my Forethane." Arthur began, turning to Osborne. "Do not forget that, nor how much this meeting of minds matters for Eras democracy. You know better than I of how little regard is given to divided or noncommittal democratic power." Osborne let out a polite "Yes, your Highness," before turning back forward.

"You picked a great day for it, Harold." Alfred Frome, by comparison as Osborne's right-hand when it came to foreign affairs, was evidently a lot calmer, as he held his hand out to catch the light snow in his hand. "You're really showing the world that Esthursia is not a cold and frosty nation... by bringing them to a Fjármagn winter?"

"Don't you complain." Osborne replied, giving a glance at the King for indicative purposes. "If his Majesty can brave the cold, you can pull your act together too." A slight smile on his face confirmed that he wasn't being entirely serious there. "Yes, he's always been like that." Jeremy Wilson added, attending in his role as second-in-command, having stayed relatively quiet along the way in. "Besides, it's always winter in Fjármagn." A glance across the street at a local Fjármagner in a shirt and shorts confirmed that today was comparatively mild - or at least that the locals didn't really give a damn if it was or not.

"Sir?" A rather eager young diplomatic aide, who couldn't have been half Osborne's age, squeaked to... someone. "You need me to keep tabs... yes?" Osborne nodded politely at the aide's broken question, even if he wasn't quite sure what he was asking, as they stepped up into the gardens in front of the Fjármagn hall.

The Forethane gave a small nod to the security guards manning the entrance, presenting his ID card as a formality, and the comfort of being inside hit the group suddenly. The Ástjórn of Helmark made her way off to meet with other government delegates, while the rest of the national group stayed together, making their way through the crowd of diplomats, leaders and representatives gradually.

Astjórn of Helmark - first minister in Asthonic, literally derived from "of control"/"of power"
 
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Both Hexastalians took the deputy’s hand in theirs and shook, in Pethes’s case perhaps too vigorously. The President beamed, in a manner that wasn’t all for theatrics, he was excited to meet the wide array of people here. “Monsieur Jean-Michel! Just the man I was looking for! This is Mrs. Amanda Voss, Director of Foreign Affairs. She is very, very good at her job. Which is something I can’t say about my own party recently, or this weather.”

While Pethes exuded confidence and composure, Voss’s seemed to be crumbling around her. Despite being flush with embarrassment, she forced a few deep breaths and curtailed the spreading blush. This was not the time to show weakness; Jean-Michel seemed to her in this moment rather like a vulture, willing to swoop in on any perceived vulnerability. That was diplomacy, she supposed.

With a rather forced smile, Voss brought her eyes up to meet the deputy’s. “Pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Jean-Michel. I look forward to further cooperation between Hexastalia and Ultramont. Us Aurorian democracies have to stick together right?”

A slight dawn of realization came over Pethes and he produced the set of car keys from his pocket. They were emblazoned with the logo of Roland, an Ultramontese company, so where better to start his search for their owner than the country they had been built in? “Say, Deputy, you wouldn’t happen to know who arrived here in a Roland? I found these outside and would like to return them to their owners as soon as possible.”
 
"Ah." Sparked Jean-Michel. "Your wife is Minister of Foreign Affairs! Well, that's just splendid. I'm imagining you two mingling in the chambers of parliament as though it were a school hallway. Stolen glances and what not. Cradling hands under the conference room table. Perhaps that's just my passion for romance bleeding through here. Then again, you know what they say. Promoting family values is almost as important as promoting family members!"

Jean-Michel began a mad fit of cackling, then began walloping against Pethes' arm. "Get it?"

The Deputy Premier's translator approached and intervened in the conversation, interrupting Jean-Michel's bout of laughter. At his appearance, Payette straightened up and raised a brow without a word. The translator wore a tired, grey face, fringed by jet black hair.

"Excuse the interruption, Monsieur Payette. But I was considering whether or not you required my services in this particular circumstance?" He droned.
"Erm... No, thank you, Monsieur. It appears these fine delegates speak Mercanti better than I." Payette smiled.
"By all means, Monsieur." He grunted.

Payette eyed him silently as he remained put.

"Uh-h-h... So as I was saying, I too am looking forward to cooperation between Hexastalia and Ultramont. I trust you have heard about the EUPA deal we recently reached with Esthursia. Nero's War has enabled the government to expand our economic endeavours..."
"Oh yes, endeavours." Mumbled the translator.
"... after decades of seclusion forced upon us by Suavidici revanchism. Our government is making plans..."
"Oh, diabolical plans indeed." He interjected again.
"... to offer amicable reconstruction efforts to the IPQS in exchange for a common market. The war has changed public opinion quite a bit, and sympathy for the affected Suavidici population has created an opportunity for tremendous economic growth, both for the IPQS and for Ultramont. I encourage your administration to consider what a trade partnership could mean for Hexastalia in the future."
"Oh yes, join us! Join us-s-s-s!" The translator hissed.

"Criss de Tabarnak!" Thundered Jean-Michel. "What is it with all you aides? Am I actually supposed to believe my ministry hired you people based on your competency in diplomacy? What skills do you actually have other than badgering me and my colleagues?"
"Well, Monsieur, I am certified to sell cannabis in all the legal jurisdictions and I've had experience playing the saxophone for..."
"Listen here, you! If I didn't know any better, I would've thought you were a corpse brought back from the dead just to sabotage me here. Fuck off!"

The translator flashed a ghostly half-smile and turned away to join Payette's other aides who had jealously gathered in the corner of the room, staring with absolute contempt at the Deputy Premier.

"Right, so... Oh, what's this? My keys? You found them outside? Of course you did. My fiendish entourage is absolutely incompetent as you have just witnessed. What kind of assistant doesn't know you're supposed to catch your patron's keys when they throw them in the air?"
 
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Årnad was no stranger to the world events. After all, he had been there at the founding of the PGU. But this one he felt was different, it had a different goal. Goyanes, while monarchic, was also a democratic country. It was one of the first to embrace constitutional law and functioning parliaments. Årnad would certainly go in the history books for this one. He had thoughts racing through his head, about how the events of the night would go. Whilst his government had managed to pass the ratifications and it received imperial assent, he still remained nervous and riddled with anxiety. This was something the NUP did not like, and had managed to divert his political ambition in years prior, but now he was the party leader, and he had his own plans.

Riding in the state vehicle, they were making their way through the city streets as his posse of two aides mumbled about. He was looking out the window, inspecting the city, looking at its streets. Fjarmagn was a strange place to him, eerily similar to his nordic homeland, but distinctly Aurorian. "This is nice, but no Gojannesstad though," he said to the aides as he put a Sinn brand nicotine pouch in his lip, chuckling. The aides looked for words, and decided to just smile and laugh. Soon enough, they had arrived at the carport, and Årnad was ready to conduct business.
 
Helevjsse Vremjnett wasn't necessarily anyone's first choice for the position of Foreign Secretary, one of the highly-coveted and highly-influential "Keystone Four" cabinet positions. However, the tumultuous aftermath of the 2021 elections ushered in a government delicately held together by a fraught and occasionally dysfunctional coalition. Krákaumærsen's first choice, Dejvasama Þannajↄara, who previously served as Trade Secretary under the Þanedar Government, was quickly vetoed by the RFWSF, the Coalition's junior partner, over perceived "left-wing" political tendencies. She wasn't even the second choice, that was Adj Vulȝssen, the ex-Sveta mayor who ended up rebuffing the Government's offers. After that, someone from the Vindermer delegation, nobody quite remembers who exactly it was, brought up Vremjnett's name during one of the many intracoalition negotiation sessions held during the sweltering summer of 2021, and a consensus seemed to quickly emerge.

She ticked a lot of boxes: Young, up-and-coming, and inoffensive to all factions within the Coalition. As well, it didn't hurt that she hailed from a constituency out west, in the City of Astasunnejo. Krákaumærsen knew all too well that it was important to mitigate public perception of the Government being too influenced by the country's urbanized east. Non-cautious governments have died by the sword of an angry, organized western bloc. And now, here she was in Esthursia, representing the Kalivese Government at a historic summit for the Association of Nations. The AN extolled a noble ambition: the promotion and strengthening of democratic values across Eras, something she wasn't a stranger to. As a young backbencher, she was one of the few Kalivese officials who were sent over to Prydania in 2018 as impartial observers during the country's first, post-Civil War elections.

"Are you a little nervous?" Helevjsse looked over to her aide, who trailed behind her with some sense of trepidation. "No one's gonna bite you. Besides, when we get inside, it'll mostly just be smiling and shaking hands."
 
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Kardenccia,
The Greater Tardineanni Empire

A few days before the Conference



It was almost time to board the plane that would lead the Tardineanni representatives to one of the most important reunions of the decade. Before heading toward the royal's private airport, though, the Emperor gave an speech that was broadcasted simultaneously at all medias, including the official Vidéo channel.

"Once again our nation will present itself to the world as a renewed country whose democratic principles shall shine brighter than ever! Our people has suffered many tragedies along the years such as wars, royal coups, epidemics, economic stagnation and the ever threatening ghost of fascism. Now, we are together once more, way stronger than before! United towards a common goal, the welfare of every citizen of this nation, we stand. This year we are rewriting our Constitution, to fit the ever-changing standards of the democratic world and the needs of our own*. Today is when we forge tomorrow!* Forward Tardine! Avante, people!"

The applauds filled the room, with everyone cheering the Emperor and his promised future of peace and prosperity for all. Jasemir was unsure until then whether or not he had the people's support, but seeing everyone together made him smile, something even rarer now that his family was dead. He thought that perhaps the nation now might have a good shot of getting as great as he thought it should be. That was a comforting thought for a man who was tormented by the ghosts of the past.

Fjármagn,
The Kingdom of Esthursia


It was the morning of the fated day. Jasemir had yet another nightmare. He was used to the terrible nightmares that tortured him ever since his memories came back and he learned what happened while he was gone. This time, it was his mother. She accused him of letting them die alone, while he was in vacation. His sister took her mother's place and shouted at him for not taking care of her child. Then his father appeared and scoffed at him in disappointment. "You should have died instead of your sister.", he said. "YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!".

He then woke up, panting. The nightmares were getting worse day by day. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He couldn't stop being the Emperor, he shouldn't put his own mental health, his own sanity, above the wellbeing of the nation*. There were more pressing matters at the hand, so he must put aside his own demons for a while and smile more than ever. Nothing should be in the way of Tardine's bright destiny.

As the Emperor arrived at the room he noticed a bunch of familiar faces among the crowd. He was dressed regally, with golden garments and a bright colored suit. His signet ring felt heavy at his hand. He wore even the ceremonial crown, which he hadn't used in ages or, more precisely, since his coronation. The message Jasemir wanted to pass along was of a shining leader of a rich nation, which wasn't really so far off the truth.

He looked at the Esthursian King, who was born even before his own late grandfather. The old man looked slightly out of place, as if he wasn't supposed to be there to begin with. Yet he looked sharp, even for his age, as expected of the Esthursian leader and one of the idealizers of the Association. Jasemir knew the cameras were watching so he needed to choose the first person to talk carefully. Thinking of all possible scenarios and diplomatic consequences, he decided to start with the host and one of the most amicable nations towards Tardine, the King of Esthursia.

"Pleasure to meet you again, Your Majesty." Jasemir extended his hand towards Arthur, at which he didn't immediately shook, looking instead to the Emperor's crown.

"Yes, yes... likewise," the King said, a slightly dishevelled expression hinting at his stalling for a name, "it is a pleasure to meet you, too... your... Highness?" His face contorts a bit as he grasps at nothing. "A foreign prince... of Tardine, no?"

"Jasemir Partei Kladerai, Emperor of Tardine, Your Majesty." He answered, looking puzzled.

The old King's face drained for an instant before regaining composure. "Ah, yes, yes. Of course." He extended his hand, now giving off a warm smile. "Of course it is, your Majesty. My sincerest apologies for my dwall," Arthur continues, catching himself on an Atlish word and repeating it in Mercanti, "mistake there. Ninety-three." He added, noting his age cordially.

"There's no problem at all, Your Majesty." Jasemir wondered if the man was going senile or it was just a moment of confusion. "Pleasure talking with you, Your Majesty."

"As it was for I, young Emperor. Well met, good fellow* - farewell, your Majesty." the King said, giving a nod before turning away and ambling off.

While Jasemir didn't feel bothered at all by this strange, perhaps even embarrassing interaction, the news cameras had captured everything and would soon create their own twisted version.

*The Tardineanni Constitution of 1817 is unfit for nowadays standards as it has many drawbacks and loopholes that have been exploited by ill-intentioned people (Werdoi Danfeh was the prime example of them, Pofred Risvie as well).

*Jasemir Partei Kladerai was diagnosed with severe anxiety at a young age, shortly after his father's death, in 1999. He also has the survivor syndrome, a mental condition that occurs when a person believes they have done something wrong by surviving a traumatic or tragic event when others did not. In his case, it was Werdoi's coup which killed his whole family.

*"Well met, good fellow" is funnily enough a common Middle English expression because Arthur lived through that age as a young man which entirely comes from Atlish-cognate words, so is probably used to some extent even by non-ancient Esthurs (@Alsatian Island 's own definition of the idiom).
 
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Civil war was bringing the Imperium to its knees. The coalition of nations that had taken up arms against Nero was pushing him back, and what would typically be a day of planning had a much different feel.

Augustus, who had formerly been prisoner of Nero was on a mission to rehabilitate the Imperium on the worlds stage. Prydanians had tipped him off to the creation of the association of nations and he saw this as the perfect opportunity to show the world that Nero’s National populism does not stand for the Suavidici.

Augustus spent the morning preparing for the jabs, for the questions. He knew the other nations would not be so welcoming so long as Nero still drew breath. The nerves were getting the better of him until he remembered what Nero was doing, what Nero did to him. What Nero took away from him. Augustus looked into the mirror of his room and prepared to make the change.

“We are now beginning the decent, please take a seat and fasten your seat belts.”

Ethursia was different than the imperium, where the airport in Suavidicum was built to marvel at the wealth of the Empire, Ethursia seemed more modern, it was more practical. Augustus had never been to Ethursua before, he hadn’t known what to expect.

Augustus entered the hall where the association of nations was meeting and took a moment before asking to address the hall. The imperator knew this might come across as pretentious, but he needed to address the elephant in the room.

“Esteemed members of countries all over eras. I come before not as an emperor, but as a man. A man who’s home is dying, a man who’s home needs help.”

The Imperator took a moment to let his words sit.

“While I know you have fears over my nations entry, and they are justified. Nero and National populism have gripped my nation bringing about untold suffering. I can assure you that his forces are in retreat and we will achieve victory. As it stands his ability to wage war in the air is gone, his third legion has defections every day, and his ability to supply his men is dwindling. I come before this body to not only ask that the Imperium Suavidici be a founding member, but also asking to allow it a chance to show that National populism does not stand for us.”

Augustus looked into the crowd, he was hoping to gauge something from the group of delegates.

“I come with a promise also, should Nero be captured I will request that this body tried him as a war criminal. His crimes are international, so too should the justice. Thank you, and Ave Imperium.” Augustus went back to his group of ministers.
 
Pethes had become quite uncomfortable with the actions of the Ultramontese deputy now. Was this truly the best man that Ultramont could send? His treatment of his subordinates was quite frankly unconscionable to Pethes. He handed the keys over to Jean-Michel. “Of course. You may want to go check on your car though. Last I checked, valet sill needs your keys to park it.” It took quite the effort to hide his true feelings beneath a mask of politeness. “It’s always a pleasure to do business with you lot. I’ll make sure to inform the Director of Finance and Trade of your ideas. I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic!” Throwing a look over Jean-Michel’s shoulder, Pethes decided that now would be a good time to remove himself from the conversation. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse me. It looks like somebody else wishes to speak with me. Have a good evening, monsieur.”

With the President having successfully extricated himself from the conversation, Voss too exchanged a scant few pleasantries before scurrying off to the President’s side once again. She cast an apologetic glance toward the Ultramontese aides as she left. Once the pair were out of earshot, Pethes’ calm, restrained demeanor was replaced by an air of exasperation. “Was that man seriously the best that Ultramont had to send? If all the Ultramontese are like this I’m surprised that Osborne didn’t strangle someone at the Gabréal Summit.”

Voss found herself nodding her head along, “If I can survive that, I think I can survive anything.” She looked around for any familiar faces among the crowd and found a handful. King Arthur, a man older than the Republic of Hexastalia by several decades, Forethane Osborne, the Tardineanni Emperor Jasemir. One face she couldn’t seem to find was any Sorovians. “Imre did you see any Sorovians on the way in?”

“No, actually. Did you check the corners of the room? They’re not very sociable folk.”

“Yes and unless they sent a bunch of college kids instead of, like, their president, I can’t seem to find their delegation.”

“One of my aides this morning did tell me that the delegation was hungover but I thought that must be a joke. Maybe it wasn’t.” Shaking his head, he changed the topic, “Let’s grab some food.” With both delegates in agreement, they set out on a search for the snack bar to quench their insatiable hunger for those little cheese cubes that are always served at events such as this one.
 
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A wisp of smoke drifted from the tip of a cigarette held between the fingers of a fairly typical Andrennian man. His hair was somewhere between ginger and blonde, thick and wavy and styled simply, swept to the right and tussled to look a little less formal; it topped a fox-like face that had it’s lower half obscured by a meticulously trimmed beard. A year ago, Jules Ahland had been a key figure in a high-profile case against his own commanding officer, a man who was tried for crimes against humanity. Before that, he had been fighting in Dučrijeka. Now he was playing the role of a diplomat and a politician. Who better to represent Andrenne, the Army with a Nation, then a former soldier?

One more drag, then the cigarette is snuffed out beneath his black dress shoes. He was wearing a very simple suit. Dark gray, with a blue necktie and accented with a single lapel pin of the Andrennian coat of arms. It was tailored, but cheaply. Jules was here to get the job done and go home.

“Remind me to never bum a cigarette off of you again.” Jules bantered.

“Your generation is so ungrateful, I swear.”

The man that responded in a gravelly voice was Hugo Sterner, a much older man. He had at least thirty years on Jules. His hairline had mostly receded in the late 2000s, but he was still clinging to what little hair he had left, and at this point it was as gray as the sky in Fjármagn.

“Listen-- If I’d known you smoked Quills [1] I wouldn’t have asked in the first place.” Jules scraped the bottom of his shoe on the pavement to get any residual ash off of it.

“Quills were good enough for Old Joe [2], they should be good enough for you.”

“Yeah well Old Joe also said he thought Den Hertugens [3] was a good beer, so I’m not sure if his taste buds actually worked.” Jules glanced at the old man.

Hugo had naturally sad, green eyes that always made him look a bit like he just saw a dog get hit by a car. This was accompanied by bushy white eyebrows. The combination almost made him look like a caricature of another person. A perpetually disgruntled caricature. Jules could swear that he’d never seen the man smile.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you kids don’t think much of your seniors. If you’re done complaining about my generosity we’ve got a meeting to get to.” Hugo looked at his silver watch. It was accented with real gold. Jules figured that he must have spent at least 20,000mk [4] on that watch. Hugo took every chance he got to show it off.

“I’m thirty-six.” Jules retorted.

“Unless you’re older than me you’re a kid to me. Let’s go.” Hugo countered, moving off towards the main entrance and gesturing at the pack of aides that had been waiting off at their side.

They’d been watching other delegates arrive for about ten minutes before this. They'd long since had the valet park their cars. They wouldn't be Andrennians if they didn't take a smoke break, though. The Andrennian delegation filed into the hall. Until very recently it hadn't been clear if they'd arrive at this meeting at all. It was a last-minute decision on the part of Andrennian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. They'd decided to send relatively unknown diplomats, too. No Prime Ministers, no monarchs. Jules was the newest representative to the Pan-Gotic Union and Hugo was the Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs. Not that Jules minded. It was nice to take a trip away from Gothis every now and then. Though he wasn't sure he'd normally take a vacation to Fjármagn. It was a bit too similar to Miita for him- cold, gray, and very old.

[1] - Quills refers to Quill, a brand of cheap cigarettes in Andrenne.
[2] - 'Old Joe' is a nickname for Jonas VII, the Grand King of Andrenne from 2005 to 2016. He was 76 years old when he became Grand King.
[3] - Den Hertugens, or 'The Duke's', is an infamously cheap and trashy beer brand in Andrenne.
[4] - 20,000 marks, equivalent to saying something was $1,000 (although the exact conversion comes out to $1201.77).
 
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Only months prior did the Prime Minister of Sil Dorsett manage to convince a group of unelected aristocrats to give up their legislative powers, though that was assisted by investigations into shady dealings of past monarchs. Madeline and the Solidarity party and its allies deemed it a win for democracy in the principality, while the Foundations party opposition called it a power grab. Foundations was not wrong. With the balance of power shifted so that Solidarity had an outright majority of the Chamber of Law, the party was able to begin pursuing a more outward looking agenda once again. Bergum was always going to be in Madeline's peripheral vision; for now, she had Fjármagn in center view.

Choosing someone to represent the principality at the Association of Nations was no easy task. Her preferred diplomats were either already occupied or had too much baggage from past endeavors that went wrong. She even tried to have the sister princesses' aunt Marianne take the spot, but the Covington matriarch declined, feeling her talents were better suited to advising the Prime Minster at home, something she had done for the princesses while they were still politically active.

She ultimately settled on having to interview every member of the foreign affairs staff and ultimately settled on Lewis Degarmo, who was only a few years older than Madeline, and was Amanda Cheron's deputy for when the ambassador to the Trillium Compact was preoccupied with other matters.

The two of them walked into the meeting hall and looked around at all of the other delegates. Lewis took notice of the number of Heads of State present.

"Do you think Claidie or Alice should have come, Miss Ellison?" Lewis asked Madeline.

"No," Madeline pointedly replied. "They wanted the whole election last year to be about who the people wanted to represent them both at home and abroad. That's why we're here, and they're not."

"And you don't think Matthias, or Tobias over there, will find it offensive that the sisters are a no-show?"

"Matthias will have to get used to dealing with me from now on. As far as Tobias is concerned, I'm sure he'll be happy for them."

With Degarmo's initial concerns addressed, the two began their tour, mingling with those in attendance.
 
Alycia was wearing a simplistic dark blue dress. Over the years, her sense of style had simplified as she calmed down and matured. In part because she didn't want her husband to feel awkward in these gatherings when standing next to her. The only regal flair about her today was the silver brooch bearing her dynastic coat of arms. Alycia had to be here, not because of what it would mean for Norsia or its upstart democracy. But because of what it meant to Toby, the AN would do good in the world. It would enable other countries like Prydania and Norsia to do the same with the support of likeminded countries in a safe forum. She watched Tobias walk up to Dr. Rajaratnam with a smile on her face.

"Syrixians, Khastenians, Andrennians, Essalaneans, Sauvidici, and the list goes on. A pleasant turnout for this founding so far." Korinek mused out loud, letting out a pleasing low hum as he flanked her left side, watching the gathering.

Alycia couldn't help but chuckle at something, looking at him. "I think it's fitting in a way. You're Norsia's newly elected first Prime Minister, and here you are. You're signing the founding charter of the Association of Nations, taking us off the path I set us down seven years ago and starting us on a new one. From a fascist absolutist state to a constitutional monarchy with a strong democratic body. To be recognized as the founding signatory to an Association of Democracy? I've waited too long for this." She let out a relieved sigh.

"A bit fashionably late, but all good things come with time, Your Majesty. All the delays, crises, and struggles were worth it. This is our final two-finger salute to the Silver Guard."



Silver Guard - A militant group of national populists and absolutists that supported the tyrant monarchs of Norsia from 1910 - 2017. Their ideology is often considered to be fascistic and jingoist. After Alycia's coup and purge of Silver Guard government in 2017, the group was branded a terrorist organization. A distinction they have come to embrace.
 
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L'Indépendant > Mercanti > Top Stories

Saintonge will not seek membership in the Association of Nations

by Marie-Marthé Parmentier in Saintes
31 Jan 2024 - 0955h


SAINTES – In yesterday’s weekly press conference, Prime Minister Matthieu-Gauvain Lamblin confirmed that Saintonge will not be joining the Association of Nations (AN) as a member.

“There are no plans of joining as a member at this time,” Prime Minister Lamblin confirmed. “The political climate of the country is not ready for it.”

Association of Nations
The Association of Nations is a multinational, multilateral organisation that aims to bring together democratic states against “the political forces set against the freedom of peoples”. At least twenty countries are already set to join the AN, including Ultramont, Sil Dorsett, and Prydania. None of Saintonge’s immediate neighbours in north Meterra have announced plans to join.

Saintonge was reportedly invited by Prydanian Prime Minister Kjell Svane to join. Mr Lamblin and Foreign Minister Marcelline Tréhet confirmed that it was put on the table and discussed in several Cabinet meetings.

“We agree with the ideals of the AN,” said Ms. Tréhet last month. “I don’t think that this is the right time to join. We wish to support it short of being a full member.” Ms. Tréhet then announced that Saintonge would apply as an observer. Saintonge would also offer to host the headquarters or some of the agencies of the AN in Saintes should the organisation prefer a neutral location.

“Political Climate”
According to political science analyst Marie-Danielle Ponceau, there are three aspects to the ‘political climate’ that the Prime Minister is referring to.

“First, with all the upheavals in the political party landscape right now, it is not sure whether the government can muster a two-thirds supermajority in Parliament after the Constitutional Court’s advisory opinion that the AN is a treaty.”

“Second, joining the AN may stoke backlash against the government in an election year, considering that anti-META/pro-#Sexit (Saintonge Exit), isolationist-neutralist sentiment is rising in Saintonge. They already had difficulty with META, and that’s just for a continental organisation; this is a worldwide multilateral organisation.”

“Third, it is unknown how this would affect Santonian neutrality.”

Varying Comments
While the National Party shied away from taking a pro-AN position, individual National Party MPs were more welcoming. “It’s disappointing, but understandable, that Saintonge would pass on this opportunity,” said Charles-Ferdinand de Pontleroy (Saintes-29), chair of the National Assembly’s Foreign Affairs Committee.

“I don’t see what is wrong about banding with like-minded democratic nations in defence of freedom,” quipped Éthan-Baldéric Schmitthaeusler (Ill-1). “It’s one of Saintonge’s principles and foreign policy objectives for a long time, and we’d be stronger together if we have allies in that goal.”

The Liberal Party was also in favour. Incoming Liberal leader Kurt-Timothée Kleinhentz (Vauperté) said that the Liberal Party would try to include it in the party platform for this year’s election. “Liberty is not free; one must be prepared to defend it. Having allies in this regard is good.”

Most of the voices against the AN were mostly from the left and the far-right. “Claiming to defend democracy?” scoffed leftist MP Jeanne-Élisabeth Vertières-Clérembault (Bouche-du-Rhâne-3). “Why is Syrixia a part of it?”

“Saintonge rejects more globalisation,” quipped agrarian deputy Léonard-Jean Chevrollier (Loine-3). "Joining would also undermine Santonian neutrality."

“This is merely a conspiracy to open Saintonge’s borders in the pretext of ‘safeguarding democracy’,” thundered far-right deputy Jean-Étienne Genêt (Saintes-23). “They will then say that accepting so-called ‘refugees’ is ‘protecting freedom’, just like all the other National governments before it. No!”

Future
The AN has mechanisms for admitting observers, which of course, cannot vote. “Saintonge will most likely pursue that path for now,” commented Ms. Ponceau. “Maybe in the future, a Liberal Party government takes over, or this year’s election is over and the National Party comes out stronger – that may be an impetus for the next government to apply for membership.”

translated by Thibault-Luke Burlbaugh
31 Jan 2024 - 1622h

 
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Privet, Prime Minister Svane,” Sidorov greeted the Prydanian head of government with a warm smile, extending a hand for Svane to take with his own. “With the signing of these accords, your government is beginning something that I think will give people the world over cause for hope. You must be very proud of this accomplishment. And I take it His Majesty is as well.”
"President Kolibin," Kjell said as he shook Sidorov's hand with a smile.
"I would say I'm proud. His Majesty is more excited then anything," he watched as Tobias and Alycia spoke with Dr. Rajaratnam. It was hard to express what he was about to say without making it about age but... the King was not yet thirty. And the Norsian Empress a few years younger then him. And the fact was that age meant different things when it came to politics.

"I floated the idea to His Majesty over a year a go. It was a flight of fancy mostly, but the Jeremy Wilson business with Esþursia seemed to present a... a chance really. He's excited for the ideals of it all. I'm proud because of what it will mean. I worked for the FRE as a diplomat during the War, to ensure the safe passage of refugees from Saintonge to Goyanes. I saw more suffering then anyone should ever have to. And though I was away from the fighting I still went to bed every night wondering... how this calamity could have been avoided. The only answer that made any sense to me was that we forgot what a free society should value. And we let tyrants sieze power. So, now that the War is over and my country insists on my continued public service, I've decided to spend that time making sure that never happens again."

Kjell glanced around at the conference. It would be time to start the pomp and the Iraelians had yet to arrive. At least he hadn't seen Ambassador Gedaliah. It was a passing thought though. He turned back to the Khastenian President.

"Think of it Sidorov. A unified voice and banner to promote democracy under. With any luck we might just change the world."
 
2024 January 2, Wednesday
Hokkyō, Kamata National Airport, State of Seinoku
PM7:30


A middle-aged man watches from his window seat as the plane lifts from the ground.

"Your Majesty?" Another man interrupts.

He stares at the window, waving his hand at him as if to swat a fly. "What is it, Prime Minister?"

"Your Majesty—Sir," The Prime Minister addressed him. "May I just say... I'm glad you agreed to do this."

"No." The middle-aged man shakes his head. "Be glad that I'm being generous to you."

The Prime Minister laughs. "You do know that your government wasn't going to abandon State Kensu entirely."

The middle-aged man side-glances at the Prime Minister. "Don't laugh, Mister Yomoya." The middle-aged man frowns at him. "Don't you understand the implications of signing that hideous charter?"

"What implications?" Yomoya scratched his head.

"It's what Mister Morita has been warning you." The middle-aged man turns to face Yomoya. "This organization will be the death of nation-states."

"I'm sure Seinoku would still be here tomorrow after we sign the charter." Yomoya tries to reassure.

"It better be, Mister Yomoya." The middle-aged man looks at the window. "As long as I'm on the throne, I will not concede an inch of our constitution. Nations should be the highest form of human representation, not a club made by radical socialists and traumatized reactionaries."

Yomoya remains silent.

"You got the votes for State Kensu reform. I had no choice but to ratify the treaty." The middle-aged man grunts. He cannot help but smile. "Congratulations, Prime Minister."

Yomoya remains silent for a while longer until, "...Yes. To be honest, I was surprised myself. Mister Morita turned against you."

"He's a slippery otter, that one." The middle-aged man drops his smile. "I will never accept him as prime minister."

"He will never be prime minister." Yomoya intertwines his fingers. "His Liberal Party is never going to get any more seats with their populist rhetoric. The culture wars are not going to last."

"What if it does?" The middle-aged man takes something out of his suit coat. It is his smartphone. He shows Yomoya the news headline on the screen.

Yomoya snorts. "Thirty-seven percent of the country? That's exaggerated. Everyone understands why we need migrants."

"Not thirty-seven percent." The middle-aged man mumbles as he shoves his phone back inside his coat.
 
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Then
"Esþursia? They're hosting this shindig in Esþursia? Esþursia has never hosted a decent party in its entire existance! Not even a proto-party!" Prince Harris of Gotmark had remarked to Gwawr Kemble, Gwladcan's Ambassador to Prydania at a function they attended in Býkonsviði, once news of the foundation of the Association of Nations broke. Gwawr took a sip of her drink, rather than mention the orders she had received from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs that very morning, Instead of remaining in Prydania, Gwawr Kemble would be Gwladcan's burgeoning democracy's first ambassador to the Association of Nations. She extracted herself from the 'Party Prince' of Gotmark and went to return to the group she arrived with, an ecletic mix of diplomats and business representatives sent to try and secure tariff reductions from Gotic nations.

"No luck?" She asked Culni Hastia, one of the senior diplomats on her team.

"I'd have better luck swimming the Aber Afon." Hastia muttered. "The Gotmarkers are more interested in the free food and booze and no one from Prydania with the power to do anything bothered to show up. I get the sense that functions like this aren't the way we'll get any concessions at all from this lot."

Gwawr nodded. She expected as much, but letting her disagreements with official policy known at this juncture probably wasn't the best idea. She liked the Minister, but the charm offensive he had ordered on this topic was doomed to fail. Better to leave that to her successor to tell him though, she thought.

"Well, it won't be our problem much longer. We've got a dinner in Esþursia to prepare for."

Now
Esþursia, despite Prince Harris's claim, was a pretty nice place to host a party. Certainly Fjármagn, though a bit cold, was no less cultured or comfortable than even the most ancient cities of Ardea and Atria. Indeed, compared to Gwyddien, Fjármagn was incredibly pleasant. Despite the cold. That was the only bad part, Gwawr reflected as they arrived at austere hall that reminded Gwawr of the Prydanian capital she had recently vacated. She took in the scene before her as the inanities of accessing such a meeting ground on. Gwladcan hadn't really been expected to attend and their invitation was a courtesy. Imagine the organisers surprise when, only days before, officials from the foreign ministry had finally inquired as to arranging access.

Aside from the obvious attendees from their hosts and Prydania, it seemed like a host of others were also here. Khastenians, Syrixians, other Gotics from Andrenne and Goyanes. Norsia was unsurprisingly there, but Gwawr was surprised to see the Suavidici. Surely they had more important things to attend to than to cosplay as democrats? She shrugged. It'd all come out in the wash, she thought, as she began to mingle, nodding to a few delegates she had met previously. Hastia was a half-step behind her, mentally creating a route around that hit all of the big players. It wouldn't do to not say hello, and she had with her two aides whose sole roles were to hand her the gifts Gwladcan was giving the other delegates.

First, Prydania. Hastia began guiding Gwawr towards some of the Prydanian delegation, as the first aid handed her the gift - a bottle of bootique cream soda from a restaurant that Robert VII was known to have frequented during his time in Gwladcan.
 
2024 January 3, Thursday
Fjármagn, Kingdom of Esthursia


"Your Majesty!"

"Look over here!"

"King Akashihito!"

Even if they are speaking in a different language, the obnoxious shouting from the press is still obnoxious.

"This is stupid." The middle-aged Grand King Akashihito III comments on himself as he exits the limousine. He puts his hand behind his back and marches to...wherever this meeting place is in this crazy country.

Prime Minister Shigeru Yomoya smiles at the cameras, trying to move slowly while keeping up with Akashihito.

Akashihito stops to watch this spectacle.

"Mister Yomoya?" Akashihito barked.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

Akashihito notices the plastered smile on Yomoya's face. It only made his balding head look stupider.

"Wipe that grin off your face!" He scoffs. "It's bad enough I have to be treated like one of those gay celebrities."

"Shhhh!" Yomoya nearly squeaked at the end. He probably realized who he was sushing.

"Don't do that!" Akashihito nearly shrieked.

"Not so loud," Yomoya said. "My party leads on L.G.B.T. rights."

"Not for long if you do that again," Akashihito said.

Yomoya smirks. "Deal!"

An hour later inside the building

Akashihito rolls his eyes. Not because of the arrival of his private secretary or his aide-de-camp. But because the Prime Minister of Seinoku is still Shigeru Yomoya.

He seethes out, "I shouldn't have agreed to your hare-brained idea." He grits his teeth. "You tricked me into proposing the charter to the Diet."

"It bought you more time to negotiate." Yomoya pointed out.

Akashihito grumbles. "You promised me it would kill the issue."

"It did. For now." Yomoya points in front of them. "Let's focus now that we're here."

"Right." Akashihito looks at his private secretary. "So, anybody we know?"

The private secretary bows. "Yes, Your Majesty." He nods in the direction of the Syrixian delegation.

He explains, "Doctor Suresh Rajaratnam leads the Syrixians."

"Who?" Akashihito cannot find the name in his head. There are too many Syrixians in the world.

"A former government critic. He is now the Secretary of State."

Yomoya smiles. "It's the new Syrixian government." He crosses his arms. "They are trying to make the world forget about their last general election."

"That was a mess." Akashihito comments. "People kept talking about it. I still don't understand what happened."

"Election fraud, Your Majesty." The private secretary said.

"Ah, yes. Thank you." Akashihito nodded.

"Now, see. See Mister Yomoya." Akashihito looks at Yomoya. "Syrixia is one of the biggest democracies in the world. The problem is not limited to a few officials you can easily remove. It involves millions of voters who put the vote-rigging government in the first place."

"Alleged vote-rigging." Yomoya corrected him.

Akashihito waved it off, saying, "They are living proof that democracy isn't the end-all solution. What they need is a leader who is above trends and hysteria-"

"They do have a monarch," Yomoya interrupts. "Not a symbolic monarchy. He is in control. Just like-"

"Emperor Rajesh hides behind bureaucracy." Akashihito blurted out. He did not want to hear the end of what Yomoya was saying.

He continues, "All of my powers are defined in the Constitution. There is a clear separation of powers."

The private secretary bows in agreement. "Indeed, sir. Let's look-"

Akashihito continues, "An eternal agreement between my people and my lineage. I take its protection very seriously."

"We are happy to hear that, sir. Shall we-"

Akashihito drones on, "That is why I've taken the oath, like my father and my grandfather before him."

Yomoya speaks out to end Akashihito's monologue, "There. The Prydanians." He pointed at the Prydanian delegation who split in two different places.

"King Tobias himself leads it." The private secretary spots him. "He's the one talking with Doctor Rajaratnam." Next, he points to the Arcanstotskans. "There's Mister Svane, the Prydanian prime minister."

"Ah, Prydania. It's a nice...little country." Akashihito said.

Yomoya recalls, "Back in the two-thousands, their civil war dominated world news."

The private secretary nods. "Some people got suspicious with the number of countries involved in it."

"Oh yeah." Yomoya nods with the private secretary. "The Severoszlavians used the conspiracy theories to start a culture war."

"Wasn't there a story back then?" Akashihito remembers. "There were claims Rajesh is a pedophile obsessed with the young Prydanian king."

"I'm sure that's Skandan propaganda." Yomoya chuckled when he said that.

"You have to commend them," Yomoya advises Akashihito. "They and the Esthursians brought us all here. I support their dream."

"I do not." Akashihito insists. "I'm here to support the Constitution. I'm the chief architect of foreign policy. It's my responsibility."

The private secretary points in Mr. Svane's direction. "Right next to Svane. That's Sidorov Kolibin, President of the Khastenia Republic."

"I do like Khastenians." Akashihito smiles. "Polytheist cultures should stick together."

The private secretary mentions, "The Minister of Foreign Affairs has been talking about attracting more tourists, investment, and migrant workers from Khastenia."

"Oh yeah?" This time, Akashihito spots a world leader he recognizes. "What does Mister Tanaka think about the Santonian deputy premier?"

Yomoya clears his throat. "That's the Ultramont deputy premier."

"Ultramont, Saintonge." Akashihito is thinking aloud. "I can't tell which is which."

The private secretary says, "Mister Tanaka believes Ultramont can be a great source of tourism and educated workers. They are big spenders. The Minister of Foreign Affairs said we should talk to him and President Kolibin later."

"Also, Saintonge announced it has no plans to join." The private secretary added.

Yomoya cautions, "If we ever meet the Ultramont deputy premier, I think I should do the talking for the entire time."

"Oh." Akashihito realizes. "Okay. It's one of those again, huh? Thank the gods for the Diet. You're all eager to jump into the frying pan without me."

"Huh. Isn't that...?" Yomoya moves closer to Akashihito, lowering his voice. "The Essalaneans are here."

Akashihito raises his eyebrows. "They are?" He looks where Yomoya is looking. "They qualified for A.N. membership?"

"Not sure," Yomoya said as he looked at the private secretary,

"Apologies, Your Majesty," The private secretary got no answer too. "We don't have that information. Perhaps, I should call-"

"No need." Akashihito bows his gratitude to the private secretary.

A man suddenly appears before Akashihito. He spoke Mercanti in a strange accent.

The private secretary translated what the strange man said. Akashihito accepted the handshake as firmly and quickly as possible. He only bowed as the strange man finished his greeting.

It is Yomoya's turn to greet the strange man. He bows and shakes his hand.

"Chancellor van der Capellen. How very nice to meet you." He said in a heavily-accented Mercanti.
 
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2nd of February, 2023.
Castellaria, Grand Duchy of Vivanco.


The blue, white and gold flag waved with the sea's wind in the city's harbor. The sea struck against the seawall of rock that led in its end to the lighthouse, who stood tall and turning, even if its use was no longer needed in most voyages. A man who stood on it sighed as his sight was stuck in the horizon looking out to the east. He looked to his left, along the coast, and saw the twinned city of Jorgensbjerg across. It had begun to darken already, and the city's lights slowly sprawled up like poppies in spring across the fields. It was curious to see how fast time goes, and how from almost ruin, a country could get not only back on its feet, but continue on in the recent times. Not too long ago, there would be the sound of war just a few kilometers away from where he stood, where now peace settled in.

Footsteps approached, and a particular man in a delicately prepared moustache, promptly getting ruined by the seaside wind, bowtie and a burgundy wool sweater under his trench-style jacket, walked to the young man.

"If you think I am going to jump, don't fret." said the young man. "Such act would be a scandal. Much more when being in a visit to a friend."

The older man took a moment to gather his breath before speaking.

"Oh, I did not think that for a secon, majesty. But you did leave without warning, and the delegation was worried."

"I appreciate the concern, but I think I'm old enough to walk where I want like a normal citizen, don't I?"

"...No?"

"Oh? A shame." He joked around as he approached who was Vivanco's Minister of External Affairs, Rudolph Van Daster, giving him a tap on his shoulder.

"It's the first time that I make a proper appearance in such an event. Normally, my father would have gone on my instead, you know how things are going back home. But with his health deteriorating, I'm no longer that young boy who was crowned five years ago. It should be about time that I do my duty in full." Said Petrio Raimundo as he put on a pair of gloves as they made their way back to the official home where the delegation was residing before leaving the day after to Esþursia.

"You've chosen the best of times, allow me to say. An international congregation of your peers, to exercise your family's house to uphold democracy and the people's rights... If you were a politician, it would be a hell of a stun."

"This isn't politics? I thought my role was all politics." He chuckled, with the older man stuttering to try to explain himself. "It's a joke, it's a joke, calm down." said he.

"Tomorrow will be a big day, and we have to make sure Vivanco is there to help keep the flames of democracy alive." said Van Daster.

"...If the plane doesn't get too much in the way. "

"Why from Castellaria, from all places, your majesty?"

"Well, I think the coldness will help me think before such a big event. And besides, Petria can be a bit... redundant as of the last few days."

"...Very well."
 
First, Prydania. Hastia began guiding Gwawr towards some of the Prydanian delegation, as the first aid handed her the gift - a bottle of bootique cream soda from a restaurant that Robert VII was known to have frequented during his time in Gwladcan.
Tobias had just finished his conversation with Dr. Rajaratnam, about to head towards Alycia and Roland Korinek, the Norsian Prime Minister, when Gwawr Kemble, Culni Hastia, and the rest of the Gwladcan delegation approached. He recognized Gwawr, of course, as the ambassador to his country. He smiled, happy to see them. He had a soft spot for Gwladcan. It was there that what could be saved of the Prydanian crown jewels were hidden away in, and that had made an impression on him as a young boy as a country... a place... he could trust. That, among other reasons.

And one such reason was presented to him. His grandfather, King Robert VII, had famously used the dictatorial powers his father had accumulated during the height of the fascist period during the Fascist Wars to dismantle that very system. He was a liberal minded King whose commitment to democracy had ushered in the last golden age Prydania had known... and that liberalism came from two places; Esþursia and Gwladcan. He had, as Crown Prince of Prydania, left his country behind during the Fascist Wars to study abroad and his time in those two countries changed him. Changed him into the champion of democracy that Tobias very much looked up to. He never knew his paternal grandfather, he'd died before he was born. But he wanted desperately to live up to him.

So when Hastia handed him the bottle of cream soda he grinned ear to ear.

"Thank you so much," he said with genuine shock and glee.
"It means the world you'd give me this... here of all places." Indeed, Esþursia was the other half of his grandpabbi's sojurn. In this very city. What better way to celebrate the AN's founding that then enjoying this later that night?

"We're rather proud of Toki's sættvín* back home," he added.
"So I can only imagine how good this must be." Indeed the way the light danced off the carbination was tempting to his sweettooth.
"Thank you," he said with a nod.
"It means the world to me."

Yet as they spoke it was Tobias' own Prime Minister who had ascended to the podium on stage. Kjell didn't get much attention at first as the delegates spoke amongst themselves, but a stead calm grew as they noticed someone at the podium, before the giant AN flag hung for the occassion.
"I don't mean to cut the fun short," Kjell said with a smile.
"But I do want to say a few words before we get back to celebrating."
Indeed, he'd earned this right. The AN had begun as an idea of his, an idea he was sure would never work until he began to actually talk to other people about it. Then it had gone from an idea that could never work right past being an idea that could, to being an idea that was working. And now... here they were. The AN treaty was ratified by the governments represented here. It was real.

"We all represent different nations. Different governments. We come from different backgrounds. We belong to different alliances, pacts, trade regulatory agencies. Our politics don't all match. Lord knows, and perhaps it's poetic," he said with a smile, "poetic and fitting that a disagreement over politics has lead to us realizing that we had more in common then we didn't. On that note, on behalf of everyone here, let me thank King Arthur, Foreþane Osborne, and the rest of the Esþthursian delegation. Not just for helping us get this project off the ground, not just for hosting us here today, but for helping us prove that the principles behind democracy transcend political difference. Your Majesty, Foreþane Osborne, thank you."

There was a polite applause at that before Kjell continued.

"I was uncertain why I was selected to be a candidate for the Chancellorship of the PGU. I have no idea why my country felt like it should have put someone up for election to the post, much less why they chose me. But they did, and over the course of two terms as PGU Chancellor I realized that what I'd come to believe about international cooperation was but a speck of light. I learnt that when likeminded peoples with shared values come together to promote a common goal then good things, worthwhile things, happen. As I said we come from different nations, peoples, walks of life, backgrounds, and politics. We have our own values that we hold dear, but the one thing that binds us all in this room right now, is a belief in democracy."

"It's a dream my people literally fought and died for in our home. And I can think of no better way to honour our hallowed dead then to help found this global effort to promote those values at home and abroad. I'm touched, deeply, that each and every one of you are here. Thank you. The AN will get to work in the very near future, I'm sure of it! But tonight... let's celebrate what this means."

He picked up the glass of wine he'd been sipping on, and raised it.
"RALT!" he proclaimed, the common Nordik toast.
"To democracy!"



*sættvín- "sweet wine," the Prydanian name for cream soda
 
Hours before the start of the AN conference

Shuni Gedaliah yawned as he awoke. He felt like he’d slept for hours, and in fact he had. Still, they were a few hours away from Esþursia. He grumbled. Perhaps a dislike of air travel was a bad attribute for a diplomat, but that ship had sailed. Or, perhaps, that plane had left the runway.

He got out of his chair and paced the plane.

“You should relax, Shuni,” Sagiv Bareket remarked as he pulled out a velvet bag, removing two dice from them, and tossing them gently across the tray in front of him.
“Pacing won’t speed up the plane.”

“I just need to stretch my legs,” Shuni said with a smile. While it’s true he hated air travel, there was no point in complaining about it. Besides, the jets afforded to diplomatic staff were a few steps up from flying commercial.
“Do you want anything while I’m up? I could use a seltzer.”

“No thank you,” Sagiv said with a grin as he tossed the dice again. Shuni shot his deputy a glance as he got the bottled seltzer from the fridge, returning to where he, his deputy, and a few of their aids were.

“Dice… dice… dice… you could have loaded however many movies or tv shows you wanted onto your phone, brought any book you want, or hell, any game you wanted, and you bring dice.”

“I find a pleasantness in the simplicity,” Sagiv said as he gently tossed the dice again.

“My Cohen hated dice growing up,” Shuni said.
“A game like chess relies on mankind’s mind. An expression of free will and divine inspiration. Chess is chance.”

“Not really,” Sagiv replied.
“Every time I toss them,” he said as he tossed them again, “the numbers they make are determined by factors. Gravity, the roll of them against my palm, how much I may be sweating. Even the air! It’s not chance, it’s just determined by forces we can’t control. With chess, like the dice, the pieces can only move in so many ways depending on the situation. Chess just gives us the illusion that we have more control than we do.”

“You are far too into dice for a twenty-nine year old, I swear to Shaddai,” Shuni said as he sat down and sipped his seltzer.
“You should be into music and Men of Honour and girls,” he said with a chuckle, having fun teasing his assistant.

“Who says I’m not into those too?” Sagiv replied with a friendly smile.

Shuni shrugged.
“So we’re two hours out from Fjármagn.”

“Yes. And when we land we’ll embark to the conference. We should be there in time to meet with Dr. Rajaratnam beforehand.”

“Excellent,” Shuni said with a nod. It was good to meet the Syrixian representative before such an event. It gave them a chance to talk about the events that would soon be upon all of them.

And Dr. Rajaratnam was a great choice. He was a believer in the project. And he was a symbol of a new Syrixia. He was someone the Liberal-Labour coalition that Shuni and his staff belonged to were happy to see gain prominence in the Empire.

“Did you think this would ever come about?” Sagiv asked. He was giddy. A force to project democracy… it was something that was deemed too… unwieldy in many foreign policy circles.

“The funny thing about it is that we talked about something like this when the coalition came into power, four years ago,” Shuni said as he sat back in his chair.
“There was a belief among certain segments of the government that the Iterian League and META, if pooled together, could form something like this. Of course the overt democratic terms of the project would have to be toned down. Astragon and Skanda, Diyar…”

“Rafhazan,” Sagiv finished for his boss.

“Exactly. The compromises and…well… you know Meteranns.”

“I hear the Santonian response will be given at the conference.”

“The conference is going ahead as if they will decline. Playing it safe. And you know… that’s smart of them.”

“You know something I don’t?” Sagiv asked, sounding a bit dejected. The Santonian Revolution was one of the great historical watermarks in the history of representative government.

“No, but I know Santonians. You saw how close the META referendum was over there. If they join it won’t be now. They’ll think on it, you’ll see. After they wrangle with their own malcontents too.”

“Malcontents?”

“Same as us,” Shuni shrugged.
“The far righters, the far lefties, the people who would rather scream then debate.”

“Our coalition partner is Labour,” Sagiv reminded his boss.

“Exactly,” Shuni winked.
“And we had to do some work to shut the fringes up about this. Don’t be fooled. Saintonge has those sorts too. You should know that. Isn’t your sister living in Saintonge now? Living with that chess player?

“Politics is NOT the source of tension with Netty,” Sagiv replied.

“Ohhhh,” Shuni chuckled.

“It’s serious then.”

“The two chess players? Yes.”

“So you…” Shuni made a motion, as if he were declaring a checkmate on a board. Sagiv just rolled his eyes.
“You know, your distaste for chess makes a lot of sense now,” chuckled.

“It’s serious stuff, ok? If they marry, if she becomes Santonian then…”

“Ahhh yes… conversion to become a Catholique,” Shuni replied, sipping more seltzer water as he put on his best Santonian accent.

“Netty says it’s no big deal, mom and dad disagree.”

“And you?”

“What does it matter what I think?”

“You’re her brother. I’m sure what you think means the world to her.”

“You say that like you want me to have a certain opinion,” Sagiv replied tentatively.
“It’s not my family, and it’s not my business,” Shuni said as he put the water down in a cup holder and leaned forward in his chair, towards his young deputy.
“But while I understand where your parents might have concerns, I don’t think which version of the same book we all read is enough to rip families apart. Do you?”

Sagiv tossed the dice gently again.
“I guess we’re all like the dice. Just forced into where we are thanks to stuff beyond our control.”

“Poetic, and flowery, and overly wrought, but yes,” Shuni said with a grin as he leaned back in his chair.
“Mothers and fathers will be mothers and fathers, for good and for ill. When it’s the latter, siblings need to stick together,” he winked.

As he winked he caught sight of the co-pilot approaching from the cockpit. He cocked his head. The plane wasn’t scheduled to land for two more hours.

“Is everything alright?” he called. The pilot smiled, nodding before he got close enough that he wouldn’t have to yell.

“Everything’s fine sir. Just a minor issue the pilot wanted me to make you aware of.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Turbulence.”

“Turbulence?” Shuni asked. That was rather… mundane. “He can just flash the fasten seatbelt sign if it gets bad.”

“It’s really bad turbulence,” the copilot replied. And in a single motion pulled a gun tucked into the back of his pants, shooting Sagiv between the eyes.

The whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion. Shuni didn’t even register what was happening at first until it was too late and his young assistant had been killed.

“SAGIV!”

The armed guards moved in immediately before half of their number took out the remaining ones by surprise. Just as Shuni went to cradle his deputy the co-pilot had pistol whipped him to the ground. Shuni looked up, vision blurry… before he passed out.




He looked up, blurry-eyed as he came too. The rest of his staff… and the security guards not part of this insurrection… all secured in the back kitchenette of the plane.

“Who… what’s going on?” he asked as he pulled himself to his knees, finding that he was the only one not tied at the ankles or wrists with zipties.

“Ah, Ambassador.”

Shuni looked beyond the armed guards… guards he assumed were Iraelian soldiers, to the man who had spoken. The man standing next to the co-pilot. He looked… familiar. But he couldn’t quite place him. He was wearing black tactical gear, as was the co-pilot.

“I see you’ve awakened.”

“Who are you, what’s going on?” he asked, though he had an idea. Shavians. It had to be Shavians.

“Who I am,” the man who appeared to be the ringleader said, as he approached, “has been of shockingly little concern to you this entire time.”

He motioned for one of the guards to grab Shuni and bring him to him.

“Whatever you do to me, or anyone else, the Iraelian government will not give into Shavian demands,” Shuni said angrily.
“You’ve already failed at whatever ‘noble’ goal you’ve set for yourself.”

The man though, he was older now that Shuni could see him. Was he Shavian? He could be… but he could also be Aydini, Diyari… or even Syrixian. And he didn’t seem defiant… instead he chuckled softly.

“Shavian? No, no Ambassador. My interests are far… broader. And have been for some time.”

“Then what do you want?” Shuni asked. His shock was giving way to anger. Especially now that he could see Sagiv’s dead body again, just a few rows away.

The man didn’t answer right away. He just pulled a pair of sunglasses out from a chest pocket on his gear, looking at them for a moment before he slipped them on.
“How quickly the men and women of the people overlook them, eh?” he asked.

And then it clicked. Him wearing those sunglasses. That beard. He was the pilot! He’d only glimpsed him for a moment when they’d boarded but…

“You are… or were… on your way to a conference to embolden democracy,” the man said.
“And yet, you didn’t even recognize the man farrying you across the planet. The hypocrisies of the ‘democratic’ elite laid bare, wouldn’t you say?”

Shuni was furious, but he also knew losing himself wouldn’t help anyone. Nor would playing this terrorist’s pedantic pseudo-philosophical games. So he kept what he had to say simple.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

The ringleader removed his glasses, stuffing them back in the pouch on his chest before zipping open another one, his right pocket.

“Who I am is a tricky question, Ambassador. No one cared who I was…” he began to remove rings from his pocket, sliding them onto his left hand.
“Until I put on the rings. And by then I was a different man.”

He made a fist with his left fist, each finger, including the thumb, ringed. Rings that displayed seals of a language Shuni didn’t recognize. But he didn’t have to. Because he knew who this man was. And the pale look that washed over his face told it all. He was looking at a ghost.

A whisper among the Foreign Office. Amongst the intelligence community. Whispers. Rumours.

Of the Ten Rings.

Only the ghost was real and he was…

“Satrap, we’re ready,” the co-pilot informed the ringleader.

“Excellent,” the Satrap replied, slipping the remaining five rings onto his other hand as he brushed past Shuni.

“WHAT DO YOU WANT? WHAT’S YOUR PLAN?”

The Satrap turned, smiling.

“Crashing this plane. With no survivors.”

“WHAT?” Shuni called out as the armed guards gunned down the personnel trapped in the back of the plane as two others grabbed him, securing his arms and ankles with zipties.

“WHAT? WHAT’S HAPPENING?” he called out as the plane began to shake. Shake because of another plane that was flying up behind them.

The Satrap and his men all began donning masks for breathing, and soon one was forced over a struggling and protesting Ambassador Gedalliah, before one door to the plane blew open. Frantic, violent wind blew out of the cabin, as the bodies of the executed prisoners were sucked out over the ocean. The ones who weren’t were eventually pushed out.

Shuni was held down by two armed guards bracing themselves against the seats as men in harnesses and on cords entered the plane through the blown out door. Shuni was dragged, struggling as he was into a harness and secured. Frantically screaming and trying to free himself.

And then… the Satrap leaned into him.

“Now is not the time for fear, Ambassador. That comes later.”

It was the last thing he heard before he was sucked out of the plane… dragged by his harness as he screamed to high heaven… passing out from shock before he was pulled into the military grade cargo plane that was raiding his doomed transport.




Deshi Basara by Hans Zimmer, 3:19
 
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OOC Notice: Co-written with @Aubervijr.

"To democracy!"

Everyone cheered and clapped.

“So that's that, Your Majesty. Prime Minister,” Chancellor van der Capellen said. Earlier, he told Grand King Akashihito and Prime Minister Yomoya he would like to be called "Johannes."

Mitchel "Just Mitchel" Hartjes stood next to Johannes. He offered the Seinokan prime minister and the private secretary each a celebratory handshake. “To us, Prime Minister Yomoya. And Mister...?” Mitchel spoke in an almost clean Mercanti accent, bowing his head respectfully.

Akashihito smiled as he watched Johannes, Mitchel, Yomoya, and the private secretary celebrate this momentous occasion. Even for an abomination, it is still quite historic.

The private secretary has been translating the conversation between the Aubervijans and Yomoya. Because Yomoya is not a master of Mercanti, he has to rely on the Grand King's private secretary. Akashihito cannot speak Mercanti fluently, but he can understand it without a translator.

Even though he is standing next to Yomoya, he has been silent for nearly all of their interactions. He may have likely blended in with the background. It would not surprise him if they forgot he was there.

Yomoya probably noticed this. He looked at the Grand King for his approval to continue. Akashihito nodded. He decided it was best to let Mr. Yomoya take the lead. Johannes seemed more comfortable to converse with a fellow parliamentarian.

Of course, Akashihito is the Seinokan head of state. He cannot be completely left out. So he spoke to Yomoya in Seinokan.

"Ask him about President Ri... Ri...?" Akashihito looked at the private secretary.

The private secretary answered, "Rickvorsel, Your Majesty."

"Yes, that's the one. Thank you."

Yomoya asked Johannes and Mitchel in Mercanti, "How is President Rickvorsel?"

Mitchel glanced at Johannes, who inclined his head slightly. Johannes then nodded towards Mitchel, who subsequently took over the conversation.

“He’s well. He was in hospital not so long ago, nothing serious, though doctors have advised him against traveling, so I’m afraid you’ll have to put up with Johannes and I for the time being.” Mitchel joked. Johannes smiled at the comment, though seemed slightly embarrassed that he couldn’t answer the question himself.

“I trust you are all keeping well too?” Johannes finally asked as he adjusted his cufflinks.

"Yes." Yomoya patted down on his stomach. "I'm still growing." He laughed. Yomoya glanced with clear, humorous intent at the private secretary and a glaring Grand King.

Akashihito ground his teeth behind his closed lips. He wouldn't dare.

Yomoya cleared his throat. "His Majesty is well. All of us are well."

"Speaking of health." He scanned the world leaders and their delegations assembled in the hall. "What do you think of this newborn? The Association of Nations. Do you think this one will survive?"

Johannes looked a little taken aback by the bluntness of the question. “Of course,” Johannes said with a smile. He widened his eyes slightly at Mitchel. Akashihito did not know what Johannes was doing. Mitchel immediately began to speak:

“The A.N. is unlike anything I’ve seen in my career. So many people in one place, it's certainly new to us Aubervijans. If all goes well, which we’re sure it shall, then of course, why shouldn’t it?”

Yomoya nodded. "I am also confident. His Majesty the Grand King..." He turned his head to nod at Akashihito. "...proposed the A.N. charter to the Seinokan parliament. We agreed with him it is the best way forward for Seinoku and the world today."

Akashihito frowned as the private secretary translated what Yomoya said. But he quickly reverted to his usual poker face.

Yomoya paid it no mind and continued, "Especially in a world where we have to co-exist with one-party dictatorships like Severoszlavia or racial segregationists like Iolanta. Our countries must work together to defend ourselves and our democratic way of life." He shrugged. "Granted, it is no military alliance or economic union. It is only a diplomatic forum. But I hope it will grow. Perhaps, if it does, it can do more in the future."

Johannes nodded in agreement but allowed Mitchel to speak in his place once again. “Yes, we completely agree. Democracy is the foundation on which any great nation is built. Both Parliament and the Senate reviewed the A.N.’s charter shortly before we left for Esthursia, and President van Rijckevorsel personally gave his approval for us to be here today.”

He paused for a moment.

“And yes, but even still, the A.N. should never be underestimated by anyone. If it could grow into something more in the future, then it would be a massive victory for democracy across the world.”

Mitchel glanced at Johannes, who nodded approvingly.

Akashihito's eyes kept getting narrower as the Aubervijan agreed with everything Yomoya said.

Yomoya gave a subtle shake of the head at Akashihito, signaling him not to complete his would-be expression.

Yomoya said, "Democracy across the world. People should be able to travel around without fear of oppression or discrimination." He claps his palms together. "Seinoku offers that and more. It's the best place for a tropical vacation. Especially during the winter months."

Mitchel slowly nodded. “I can’t say I’ve been there before. But, I, for one, am sick of the Aubervijan winters. They’re always so cold. So I’ll bear what you’ve said in mind. I might have to visit one day. Would you, Johannes?”

“Yes. Though maybe after I leave office. It's hard to even get a Sunday off.” Johannes chuckled, but still stuttered his words slightly. “Sounds very nice though.”

"I think you should, Chancellor!" Yomoya nodded excitedly at Johannes and Mitchel. "Both of you. I think more Aubervijans should visit Seinoku. What do you think about a visa-free agreement between our two countries?"

Akashihito moved closer as he realized what Yomoya just asked. He wanted to hear what the Aubervijans thought about this.

There was a moment of silence as Johannes and Mitchel glanced at each other. Mitchel seemed to almost back off, leaving the talking entirely up to Johannes this time. Johannes smiled. “I don’t see why not. I’m sure President van Rijckevorsel would have no problem with it either.”

"Wonderful!" Yomoya cheered. "It'll be part of a broader tourism agreement. I might be able to prepare a preliminary draft agreement after the summit. Of course, there will be days of fruitful discussion."

"In Hoen!" The private secretary chimed in. "They have the best beaches in Seinoku."

"Hoen. Excellent suggestion," Yomoya smirked. "I met my third husband there."

“Aubervijr looks forward to cooperating with Seinoku in the future,” said Johannes, his bright smile returning to his face. He still struggled with his Mercanti, and Mitchel suggested words to Johannes when he seemed to get stuck. “I’m glad we’ve made such progress already.”

“And you could do with a new wife, Johannes,” Mitchel said with a smile. Johannes raised his eyebrows.

“I doubt my wife would be happy with that,” Johannes replied.
 
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"Ah, yes. To democracy!" Payette cheered.

He subsequently turned to the vegan aide he had ran away some minutes ago and began to sip on the Beaune wine which had been poured out for him by the barman.

"I was just thinking something. This would be a great opportunity for something terrible to happen."
"What?" The aide muttered, looking down at his spinach dip.
"Like... think about it. All the world leaders of all the free, democratic nations of Eras, all assembled in one building in a strange country in a highly-publicized, poorly-secured event. Even the car, which you have yet to apologize for neglecting by the way, was stolen right here!"

The aide turned to Payette with rage burning in his eyes.

"You know, I bet something terrible will happen. To you."
"True, all the nobodies in the story tend to get the boot first. That's just how these things go. Some of these folks here have backstories that goes on for pages and pages on the forum," Said the deputy premier, "like the king over there. You think he's ever going to die?"
"What are you even talking about? What forum?"
"Oh, forget it. You are far too simple-minded to have any conceivable idea of what I'm saying. That's why I'm firing the lot of you when we get back to Gabréal."

The aide cast his spinach dip aside and confronted the deputy premier.

"You bastard!" He cursed.
"No need to get all sensitive... I'm just saying, if you can't clearly see that something bad is going to happen, then you're better off back in the capital, far, far away from a life in politics. Maybe you would do better as a seismologist."
"A seismologist? You really get a kick out of yourself, huh, Payette? What, are you foreseeing an earthquake here? Is that what's about to happen?"
"No, not today. That'll be about a month from now back in Ultramont. What I'm foreseeing right now is a party-crasher."

"What, like le Fantôme de l'Opéra? Like some evil villain is about to just waltz in here and make a scene? What kind of imbecile would do that?"

Payette grinned and patted the aide's shoulder. "Yes, exactly! You know exactly what I'm talking about! Hmm... maybe I underestimated you, vegan."
 
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"Holy shit no seafood?"

Carlos III wondered to himself if he'd missed all the good food. Or maybe he just missed the archipiélago. Such thoughts were fleeting however as for him this trip was to be business. He conversed with his delegation before briefly mingling with upper middle members of a few foreign ministries. One of his aides had informed him of all the news coming from back home.

The new, fledgling Social Democratic government had already forced thru landmark legislation on gay rights & abortion. Word reached him on a very encrypted phone given to him by the Nacional Security Ministry. Reports of military austerity being toyed with already by the PM's office. He glanced at his 2 plain clothed NSM agent bodyguards. The still in development Talon III multirole stealth fighter had become his personal pet project. Justosia had never attempted something on this level before. The Defense Ministry had always envisioned eventually purchasing older back stocks from another allied power but that plan took too long & the project had now become a source of military pride.. Development had fallen slightly behind schedule due to a contractual dispute between the government & the Batista Arms Corporation. The largest by far national arms conglomerate & maker of virtually all things military in Justosia.

Carlos would not tolerate further impediment of the military's most important project. Carlos refocused on the festivities & circulating before everyone would ultimately be seated he assumed.
 
Two hours later
Kjell watched as Tobias chatted across the banquet hall. The founding ceremony had ended, the tv crews had all disembarked, and now the delegates were enjoying a banquet to celebrate this monumental moment in international diplomacy.

"Kjell? Kjell? Hello?"

"Huh? Oh..."
Kjell shook his head slightly. He'd been lost in...worry. The Iraelian delegation had never arrived. And though the mood was jovial in the banquet hall the empty table displaying a small Iraelian flag at its centre was putting him on edge. He looked to Sören Högh, his Minister of Foreign Affairs, hoping he was coming to him with good news.

"I just got off the phone with Prime Minister Gadi, the Iraelians are treating the missing delegation as a matter of foul play."

FUCK
That's what shot through Kjell's mind. He tried to keep calm outwardly though.

"Do they know who's responsible?"

"They think it's the Shavians."

"The Iraelians always think it's the Shavians."

Sören nodded.
"Well I spoke to security. They have this place locked down. No one's getting in."

Kjell looked back at Tobias across the room, with Alycia as they spoke to some delegates from Ultramont. And then he scanned the rest of the room. It was a mix. People who would be enjoying the festivities and people like him... who'd be getting this news. Before long it would be out.
"Let's find our Esþursian hosts. At the very least we need to talk about a statement of some kind."

Sören nodded, the two about to stand when the sound of a smart phone news alert, emplified by dozens, began to ring out through the hall.

Kjell looked at his, and went to click on the news banner when another alert came by. It was from the ÖSU. Hveiti. It was just a black emoji square. It was code and it was the worst thing he could have sent.

"The fok is happening Sören?"



Tobias, along with everyone else, was drawn to their phones. In his case it was RÚV, but he got the sense everyone was reading about the same thing. Of course the Iraelian delegation having not been there had been noteworthy but...
Tobias continued reading before he looked up, and found one of the event staff.
"Can you turn the tv?" he asked.
"We need to leave. Now. We need to get back to Luscova," Alycia said as the staffer ran off. Tobias looked around. The entire banquet hall was a mess of confusion, but suddenly the screen at one end flashed on. It was Esþursia's national news, with anchors looking like they were getting updates on the fly. And then...
static.
And then a test pattern.
And then...

Tobias, and everyone else, saw him.
He was an older man, late sixities perhaps, in a green robe, and with his hair in a topknot... and a long beard. He was... sitting in what appeared to be darknesss.
"Today, in Esþursia, leaders and delegates of the world's so-called democracies have gathered to form the Association of Nations. One delegation is missing though. The Iraelians never arrived."

Tobias tilted his head as he watched this man... he spoke... well... kind of like a preacher. The man on the screen reached down and pulled up Shuni Gedaliah by the hair. He had duct tape over his mouth, and he was looking panicked.
"I did that," the man said calmly.
"I hold here by the hair Iraelia's AN ambassasor Shuni Gedaliah. And like every delegate at that conference right now he is a liar and cheat who would drown the world in his so-called morality, regadless of who drowns. Already the AN counts as its members states that bombed cities into rubble, governments that command drones to kill the innocent from afar, and oppress their own citizens in the name of freedom."

He let Shuni go, and the man collapsed off screen.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. Sheep. Some people may call me a terrorist, I consider myself a teacher. Lesson number one. Democracy- there is no such thing. So long as the AN exists to promote democratic hypocricy I, the Satrap of the Ten Rings, and my followers will stand against you in the name of the those your hypocricy hurts the most. In time, you will know what it's like to lose. To feel so desperately that you're right yet to fail all the same. Dread it, run from it, your fate always arrives. I will see you all soon."
 
"Oh no the fuck you won't. Crazy old man."

Carlos just realized he hadn't in fact, said this to himself. It got some chuckles from some foreign embassy & wait staff proximal to him as the two NSM bodyguards who were technically spies whenever deployed on foreign soil, began sticking to him like glue. Carlos had made that clear before landing that that was absolutely not their capacity in this friendly foreign land. They had however, scoped out the general surroundings of the floor they were currently on, making sure not to actually 'spy'.

"If Your Royal Majestad doesn't mind, we'll be sticking closer to you throughout the remainder of these festivities."

Carlos looked around briefly & offered a casual nod.

"Does that mean I can drink more?"
 
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He had flew into Whestvik roughly three hours ago from Waltalriche. Waltalriche, in his words, was a 'based' country proudly standing up to the cosmopolitan consensus on social issues. His eyes were noticeably red; it was either due to jet lag or too much time spent scrolling through his Twitcher and 4UM feeds. The controversial ƏRTÆꝽ [1] from the RFWS's right-wing, Asteranga Sauba had been a frequent guest at political dinners such as this one, where members of the country's ultranationalist undercurrent congregate. To his chagrin, he frequently got stopped in order to take photos with various attendees while attempting to thread his way towards the bar.

A columnist for the Mjonsk Herald quickly recognized Sauba after he sat down at the bar.

"Ah, I expected to see you here, Mr. Sauba." The reporter stuck his hand out, with a feigned, insincere smile.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, I know you. You're that rat bastard who does all those hit pieces at the Herald. Girikuta."

Girikuta quickly withdrew his hand, taking a sip of his Sativa [2]. "It seems my reputation proceeds me."

The bartender returns, placing down a Haricha [3] in front of Sauba. He gives a curt nod and proceeds to chug down roughly half of the cup.

"Your lack of a reputation proceeds you."

He sighed. "I'm just here to do my job. Got anything you want to say, while you're here?"

Sauba downed the rest of his drink and turned towards Girikuta. "You know, we're all just people trying to save this country from going to Narachiya [4] in our lifetimes. If you actually do have any journalist integrity, don't fuck us here."

"What?" He blinked, confused.

"Don't fuck us here. You know, when you get back and start writing this, don't go around saying that we're all just a bunch of curmudgeonly misanthropes who were all chanting about how Bergum should've turned Pataliputra to ashes during the, you know, the thing."

Girikuta sat in silence, staring at Sauba as he ordered a shot. In the background, a thin, light-haired man could be heard castigating the government's recent push to promote healthcare accessibility for GNC Kalivese.

"You know, it's all this woke moralizing by this current government that's ruining this country. Krákaumærsen says she's a conservative moderate, but that can't be true when the government's controlled by HARDCORE PICARDISTS. HARDCORE. I mean, we're in deep trouble. We are in deep, deep, deep, deep, deep trouble."

Sauba audibly groans, downing the shot. "Between you and me, Vopni's got part of his brain missing. Come on. Hardcore Picardists?" He then jolts up, seemingly remembering something. "Oh fuck, this is the guy I have to speak after," He glances at his watch and quickly scurries away.

After several moments pass and Vopni exits the stage to mixed reactions, Sauba waltzes on, greeted by a round of applause. He walks around the stage, not saying a word and simply waving to the crowd before he begins his remarks.

"As you may know, globalist forces are working to consolidate their grasp over Eras. We, as Whespurashi [5] citizens, must have the courage and the conviction to organize opposition to their most recent abominable undertaking, this so-called Association of Nations. We must have the courage to prevent international capital from wielding the nebulous concept of 'democratic principles' as a means to economically control and subjugate the whole of Eras. We can't have a real country if we let a bunch of international cosmopolitans tell us what we’re allowed to do." He pauses, making eye contact with Girikuta, still at the bar. "That's why I am currently working to block our nation's accession into this sham organization via national initiative [6]. While we may not currently have the numbers to deny this in the Ərtæyåþͤjhm [7], I am fully confident in the silent majority of Whespurashi being able to unite together to preserve our national sovereignty at the ballot box."



"Okay, you graduated from an educational institution, right?" Helevjsse sardonically asked her aide as they walked around the room.

"Yes."

"Then you should already know how to greet the Syrixian and Prydanian diplomats. Now, pretend I'm an Esþursian dignitary. How do you open?"

"Um... hej?" He looked rather unsure.

"It's well met. You did read over the phrasebook on the flight here, yes?" She chided, with a humorous tone.

"Erm, excuse me, Miss Vremjnett?" Another aide barged in, with an anxious tone.

"Yes?" She asked her, looking perplexed.

"News from back home." She quickly swiped through her phone and pulled up a post on 4/kaliva [8], shoving the phone in her boss's face.

A clip of Sauba's speech at the Whestvik Dinner was playing, with the caption 'Asteranga Sauba to oppose Kalivese Involvement in AN' on the bottom.

"Sauba? That kook who hangs out with Dobislav [9] and rants about how wonderful it is that people in Waltalriche have no rights? Look, the only way our involvement in the AN is killed in the ƏRT is if Kauthin [10] comes against it, and that man is a doctrinal Arbitrationist [11]." She laughed off the aide, who's expression remained unchanged.

"He's not trying to kill it through the ƏRT. He's pushing for a national initiative on it."

"How close are they to getting it on the ballot?"

"As of now, they've got nearly a third of the necessary signatures to get it on the ballot."

"Oh, Djusatmān [12]." She groaned. "This is not going to be a fun election season. If Krákaumærsen goes down, which is very possible right now, our involvement in the AN is going down. Look, let's not try to worry about this until we get home. We haven't said shalom to the Iraelians yet. I believe their table's nearby."

"I was told the Iraelians were a no-show today," the other aide piped up.

"Really? I can't fathom why they would miss such an important event. They must be running on Windermere Time [13]," she jested. "Wait, what's happening?" She turned around, and saw various dignitaries, their eyes locked on a TV screen playing behind her.

An old bearded man sitting in a dark room adorned the TV screen, yapping about something. Was this some sort of Esþursian teledrama? And then she noticed something. An Iraelian diplomat. Mouth bound by duct tape.

This was absolutely not what any of them had prepared for.


[1] ƏRTÆꝽ, short for Ərtæyåþͤjhmaᵹumj, which is equivalent to a Member of Parliament in Kaliva.
[2] Sativa is an intoxicating traditional drink made from cannabis leaves.
[3] Haricha is a reduced-THC version of Sativa; ocassionally mixed with mint.
[4] Narachiya is the Srutist equivalent to the Messianist Hell.
[5] Whespurashi is the endonymic demonym for citizens of Kaliva.
[6] In Kaliva, citizens have the ability propose laws through national initiatives, which can be approved or rejected by voters.
[7] The Ərtæyåþͤjhm is the elected legislature of Kaliva.
[8] 4/kaliva is a page on the Sorovian social media site, 4UM.
[9] T.L. Dobislav is a Kalivese net-entrepreneur known for his promotion of cryptocurrencies and controversial views on politics.
[10] Kauthin Hegari is a right-wing politician who leads the Rural League, one of the key Coalition partners.
[11] An Arbitrationist in Kalivese politics is someone who believes that Kaliva should take an active role in the world stage, and is generally prone to support international involvement.
[12] Djusatmān literally translates to "Spirit of God." Outside of religious contexts, is often used as a soft profanity.
[13] Windermere Time is a Kalivese expression based off of the stereotype that people from Windermere will always arrive an hour or two hours after a designated time.
 
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Chaos erupted as the screen returned to the news, as confused anchors attempted to make sense of what was just broadcast.

Again, phones erupted into a chorus of beeps and chimes the leaders and delegates here either got news alerts or, more likely, messages from their own governments and likely intelligence agencies.

Kjell Svane, though, glanced at Tobias half a room away with Alycia and the Norsian delegation and then took his phone, and shoved it onto Sören's hands.

"What do you want me to do with this?"

"You're the Deputy Prime Minister," Kjell replied, not even looking back as he walked to the head of the room.
"You deal with the next ten minutes."

He glanced at Tobias again, and nearly stopped but... he was on a mission. And Tobias knew enough to not get in his way. Even if something felt... uneasy. Even more than should be expected given what had just happened. Something felt... deep. In a way he couldn't answer.

"I'm not going to pretend," Kjell replied as he got to the podium at the head of the banquet.

"Hey! Hey!" he barked to get their attention.

"I will not pretend that what happened was anything but what it was! An act of terror! Meant to intimidate us. But my fellow delegates, my country has seen worse terror then this, we have dealt with cowards who use the threat of violence to enforce their will, and the triumph of democracy in our lands was one of the things that inspired me to help bring us all together. We need action. And so I suggest our delegates meet. In this city. And inaugurate the AN! Let us begin the work the world's cowards would believe we shouldn't begin!"
 
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