Rolling out the Red Carpet

Sealed letter (from the thread "Socialist Observations"):

confidential​

SIL DORSETT HEAD OF STATE,


That is a very wise move. It can be too easy to allow greedy politicians to climb the ladder behind your back. As I
write this, I am currently headed to the Leningrad International Aerodrome. I will be enroute to your nation and
will arrive in around seven hours. I look forwards to speaking with your nation shortly.

Long live the left,

Click to expand...

The telegram from Alekzander Zarnesti placed Princess Claidie's ministers into a state of panic. The notice of the impending visit from the Supreme Leader of the USSVL gave the Dorsettians little time to prepare an appropriate welcoming. Claidie had a reason of her own to be nervous about the visit, as it would be the first time in her short reign that a foreign leader visited her within the Principality. As the Princess and the ministers gathered in her office to plan the visit, several of the departmental ministers considered the thought of putting together such a event in short time as unfathomable.

Prime Minister Madeline Ellison, however, tried to remain supportive, giving suggestions on how to address the lack of preparation time. "Seven hours isn't enough time. We should buy ourselves some more by making this a multiple day event. We can solve some of the early events and logistical issues now, like quickly issuing diplomatic visas, preparing a hotel room for the Supreme Leader, and at least prepare his arrival. What airport terminal should we clear for his plane, and what flights need to be rerouted? We can take care of those things now and discuss the rest later."

The retained foreign affairs minister Will Bowers was next to express his concerns. "Mi'lady, we must consider the possibility that Mister Zarnesti may not plan on being here that long, but if we're going to clean up the mess Palmer left behind we need to get this right. This event must be worthy of a world leader. Can we have a procession planned out in that amount of time? What about a state banquet? Press conferences? There is much to consider, Your Highness."

Claidie, on the other hand, seeming unusually confident, had a plan. "I don't think Mister Zarnesti would expect such a lavish event on short notice. Let's face it. He's here to defuse tensions that I thought I had already defused in my last letter. Here's what we do. Dress code, business casual. No white tie tuxedos or gowns. He arrives, we give him a red carpet welcome on the tarmac at Norvalle International. A motorcade straight to the palace where we discuss the incident over dinner. Then, a special session with him speaking in front of Parliament, and a press conference. I think we can do that in an evening."

The Princess's staff jumped into action, making phone calls to instruct various government departments and other groups on what needed to be done quickly. The press was notified of the impending conference, with photographers told to assemble at the airport, and journalists at Parliament. Parliament was also instructed to be ready to assemble quickly on demand. The Honor Guard of the Dorsettian Army arrived at Norvalle International Airport and formed their lines, in dress uniforms and with ceremonial swords in hand, on both sides of the long bright red carpet that staffers had rolled out onto the tarmac at Terminal A. Other flights were being redirected to the airport at Chamont, leaving the airspace clear for Zarnesti's plane.

The seven hours of rapid preparation had passed, and the Princess and her two closest ministers took their places on the red carpet, awaiting the arrival of the first foreign leader the Principality had ever hosted since its decades-long isolation.

Alekzander sets out wearing his black suit, red tie clothing, also bringing along his full length black, woolen overcoat. Upon his shoulders lay thick embroidered rank slides, the background golden with a large red star in the centre. To complete his clothing, he wears his black peak cap, the band of it red with golden 'scrambled egg' across the visor and typical leftist symbology. After hanging his overcoat and cap up, he makes preparations on board the flight, both with various diplomats and within privacy. The delegation sits around a cozy desk, almost like a train cabin.

"Vhat are ve to exshpect? [What are we to expect?]" asks Rehiknov Yaluna, the planned leader of the Sil Dorsett-based delegation. After Zarnesti takes his trademark time to think, leaving the air icy cold, he retorts. "Pearheps samthing partickularlee bourgwa? [Perhaps something particularly bourgois?]" After a tense moment, the air is heated again by his hearty chuckles, his comrades joining in. "Nu, [No,]" he begins, "Ve vill bi prezanted wiz ay capeetalistic interracshin. [We will be presented with a capitalistic interaction.]" He taps his finger for a moment before peering out of the window. "Who knowz vhat zhey ave planned... [Who knows what they have planned...]" Further information is passed to and from each delegate and Zarnesti, mainly information on formalities and culture.

The aircraft arrives on the stand and the staircase moves forwards. Before the door is opened, Alekzander makes a quick round of the aircraft thanking each crew member and delegate on board. He places his overcoat over his shoulders and his cap on his head, asking a nearby officer to check his dress before the door is opened. He stands tall, the door revealing him, dressed in black and shining gold and red. He lowers his view to step out of the aircraft and onto the staircase before looking back up and eyeing the precession. He seems to hold an interesting air about him, descending the staircase it is impossible to tell whether he is grovelling about the situation, or pleased to see such a lovely turnout.

He descends, the medals on his overcoat clattering a little as he does. There is only one row, nothing overly pompous. His own people begin to descend the staircase behind him, a few steps back. As Zarnesti reaches the bottom he turns to his people and sends a humble smile. It remains on his face as he proceeds to pass through the guard of honour, quickly approaching the present dignitaries.

Princess Claidie and her favored ministers, Madeline and Will, approached Alekzander as he stepped off his plane's staircase. She gave a slight bow of her head to the USSVL delegation, not quite a bow or curtsey, but enough to be respectful and began to introduce herself and her ministers.

"Mister Zarnesti," Claidie started off, "welcome to The Principality of Sil Dorsett. I am Claidie Dorsett. The citizens of this nation may refer to me as 'Princess', but please, just call me Claidie."

Turning to her right, she introduced the Prime Minister. "To my right is Madeline Ellison, the Prime Minister. A good friend of mine since our time together at academy. She's been a voice of restraint and reason within my government. I wouldn't have anyone else by my side in intragovernmental affairs."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mister Zarnesti," Madeline said in greeting to the Leninian leader.

Looking to the left, Claidie then introduced the foreign affairs minister. "To my left is our foreign affairs minister, Will Bowers. Forgive him for his demeanor, though. He served under my father for long enough to be steeped in 'tradition', Claidie pointed out while giving a half-discreet air quote sign. "I haven't exactly broken him free yet. But he is knowledgeable and caring of the affairs, customs, and traditions of nations around the world."

Though slightly confused, Bowers greeted the delegation. "An honour to be in your presence, Sir." Turning to Claidie, he spoke up about what irked him. "But, Your Highness, it's only right I give you the respect your position demands and that which you are entitled to."

"See what I mean? Calling me 'your highness?'" Claidie responded, with a slight laugh and a deliberately overt smirk to Alekzander. Coming back on track to the agenda of the state visit, Claidie gave her invitation to the Supreme Leader. "Mister Zarnesti, please, accompany us for dinner at the Rivage Palace in Norvalle. We have a lot to discuss, especially of how I can repent for the actions of a minister I mistakenly retained."

Claidie then extended her hand in greeting to Alekzander, with an offer to escort him to the motorcade in waiting that would take them to the palace.

It soon becomes apparent that Zarnesti is a tall man, he avoids bowing and offers the individuals a firm handshake instead. Oddly, he seems to hold back his unrest for monarchism, offering a nod and faint smile in return to Calidie's introduction of her people. The Supreme Leader seems to be a little weary of the conservative Foreign Affairs Minister, but accepting nonetheless. "Et iz ghud to meat you all, espeshillie in sach peesfahl circumstances. [It is good to meet you all, especially in such peaceful circumstances.]"

Rehiknov Yaluna seems to appear by Alekzander's side. The man seems to be a dwarf in comparison, but wears a black suit and red tie, like all the other diplomats. "Zis is Mr Rehiknov Yaluna, wan of mai diplomatech leedars. [This is Mr Rehiknov Yaluna, one of my diplomatic leaders.]" Yaluna offers a raised fist in the fashion of Vladimir Lenin himself, speaking only a few words before offering both delegations a warm smile. "Pleshar to be meetink you! [Pleasure to be meeting you.]"

Leader Zarnesti proceeds to review the invitation before slipping it into his overcoat pocket. Following Calide's guidance he begins to walk in the correct direction, remaining rather quiet. As he glances around the airfield he takes a look at the world beyond the high fence. Lowering his gaze to the floor a few feet infront of him and tucking his hands behind his back he speaks. "Zho, vhat ave you gat in stour far as? [So, what have you got in store for us?]"

As the two delegations walked the carpet towards the waiting motorcade, Princess Claidie presented her outline for events. "The plan is for three things that we were able to arrange in the time we were given. First, we'll dine and discuss the recent events that brought us to this meeting at Rivage Palace..." A sly smirk ran across Claidie's face as she half-jokingly followed up with, "... or as I like to call it, 'The Museum.'"

Minister Bowers noticeably grimaced at the Princess's words, having seemingly insulted her own family's seat of power, and Prime Minister Ellison rolled her eyes out of the Princess's sight. It was almost as if the Princess was deliberately downplaying the monarchy, saying everything Alekzander would want to hear. But she wasn't surprised at the remark, knowing the truth of the matter. Claidie and her predecessor and father, Prince Stephané, did not get along, a case of political disagreements turning into personal bickering, and it morphed into her own contempt for the royal family she now leads. She wasn't brownnosing, she was speaking her mind truthfully.

Claidie continued on with the agenda. "Following our meeting, I've arranged for a joint meeting with both houses of Parliament, where you'll be given the opportunity to address them. And following that, a press conference where you can address the rest of the nation. If there's something else you'd like, I'll try my best to accommodate."

The party reached the motorcade, and one of the limousine chauffeurs was about open the doors, when the Princess gave the chauffeur a discreet yet dismissive shooing.

"Does this sound acceptable, Mister Zarnesti?" the Princess asked, as she opened the limousine door for the Leninian leader.

Zarnesti quite quietly took in the information, passing a nod rather than a smirk at the joke aimed towards the stirring politics of the current monarch. It almost seemed that he was deep in thought, putting his mind to work.

"Lavely. [Lovely.]" Alekzander continues to think quietly before looking up and around at the vicinity, standing by the open door. "Ai shell leyt you knü ef ai reckwiare anyzink elz. [I shall let you know if I require anything else.]" He removes his cap and takes a seat in the somewhat over-flashy car. He is clearly a little put off by such luxury, seeing it as an exploitation of tax payer money. His own car was a simple sedan, often self-driven unless busy with work and preparation.

As the motorcade pulled away, he watched out of the window with an eye of passive scrutiny. Socialist eyes watching the local culture, infrastructure, social hierarchy and local private business.

The trip from the airport to the palace was not more than twenty minutes with the roads cleared of traffic by the Norvalle Police Department. Upon their arrival to the palace, the delegations bore witness to the opulence and luxury the Dorsett family lived in for so long. Tall ceilings with walls and pillars laced with golden decorations, crystal chandeliers, and masterpiece artworks that filled the empty spaces.


"Mister Zarnesti, I present to you..." Princess Claidie said, with a short pause before continuing. "... the Museum of The Legacy of Prince Stephané. Also known as Rivage Palace."

Claidie was eager to take any measures to denounce her father's reign, and in doing so, she addressed Alekzander and the concerns that she thought he would have had, given the excessively wealthy nature of the building.

"I have a story for you, Mister Zarnesti. When my father passed away and I became the Sovereign Princess, one of the early things I did was actually an audit of the budget, to see where the people's taxes were going. In that budget, I found forty-six million setti allocated to 'cultural development'. So, I asked the Comptroller General about it, specifically what he was spending that money on, and he said 'I haven't seen a cent of it.' So then I went to Parliament and asked them why this money was included in the budget if it wasn't being used? Their answer, 'We couldn't get royal assent on any budget unless it was included.' Then it donned on me. This is what that money was spent on. My father's greed. I would love nothing more than to give back to the people who give me the opportunity to oversee their government. I'd sell it all if I could, and give the people their settis back."

Moving along to one of the palace's smaller dining halls, Claidie instructed the chefs to begin preparing a family-style meal of simple dishes, of what exactly was unknown, but not before asking the party of any food restrictions. She then cast aside the chair at the head of the table, and oddly excused herself for a time.


"If you'll excuse me, Mister Zarnesti, there's something I must attend to for the time being. Miss Ellison will keep you company for now. I'll return within the hour," Claidie said before wandering off into the back rooms connected to the dining hall."

It was now Madeline's opportunity to start discussing what really brought the USSVL to Sil Dorsett.

"Well then, Mister Zarnesti," Madeline said, breaking her silence. "I'm sure you have your reservations about the palace, and maybe more than that, being the leader of a socialist nation addressing a government founded on royalty. So, what are your thoughts? I can only ask that you be open about what you're thinking. It would help us both to understand each other. And then perhaps we could discuss the flights made by your research teams."



Edit: "Cultural improvements" budget, after discussing with Leningrad and Ceretis on Discord.

Alekzander Zarnesti walked the halls alongside the princess, clearly listening, but also clearly taking note of the extreme luxury. His face tended to scrunch up as he examined the items of grandiose self entitlement. Upon arriving in the dining room he was almost sick to his stomach of the exploitation that lay within the building.


The USS of Vladimir Lenin was formed following a bloody and violent revolution. The existing monuments and institutes to the previous establishment torn down and burned to the ground. In Zarnesti's eyes, this place should've followed suit after the Dorsettian succession. Despite Caldie's clear contempt for her family's political history, the socialist leader is disturbed that the building is still standing, his eyes darting over the luxury of the dining room, examining the gold fittings and gleaming decorations. "Es avery deining ruum laike thes akross teh nayshan? [Is every dining room like this across the nation?]"

He glances back at the leader, removing his cap and setting it down on the table, its red and gold star gleaming in the light. He continued to look at the room, he was a thinker, always analysing things as he listened.

Madeline carried a worried look on her face, realizing that Alekzander was more interested in the palace decor than the incident over the research planes (or military aircraft, depending on one's view of them). Hoping to ease concerns, she brought to light the Princess's personal living conditions, which were much different than the palace would lead one to believe.

"I wish it were that way, but no," Madeline said, before the light bulb in her head lit up. "In fact, she doesn't even live in the palace, you know. You should see her apartment on North 17th. You could walk inside and not even realize a Princess was living there. And then there's the government office building on North 1st Street where she does her day to day duties. Other than sessions of Parliament, the palace doesn't see much use."

Finally, the idea to entirely change course with the visit came into mind. "I've got it!" Madeline exclaimed in a eureka moment. "I'll ask her if she'd be willing to let you all see the apartment. It's much simpler and minimalistic. I'll have her prepare something faster to make up the time. She's with the culinary staff cooking with them now..."

"What!?" Minister Bowers yelled out in disbelief.

"Yeah, what do you she did for almost five years after University? Culinary school before working as a line cook," Madeline replied, before turning towards the Leninian leader, shrugging her shoulders and nodding her head. "She hated royal life so much she went to culinary school and worked in a restaurant."

Madeline ran off to the kitchen to change the food order before returning to her seat. "Alright, she said yes to the apartment visit, as long as you're okay with it. She'll be back in about fifteen minutes with salmon fillets and kale salad for everyone. If anyone doesn't want that, let us know and Mister Bowers here will go change the order, though it will take longer. I do suggest trying it though; it's a favorite dish of mine and seen in many restaurants across Norvalle."

Minister Bowers struggled to hold back his disgust over being conscripted into an errand boy. There were palace staff available to handle menial tasks, but both the Princess and the Prime Minister refused to utilize them, either taking matters into their own hands or having government officials of all people handle it. William could only think that this was some ploy to appease the socialists, before remembering that this kind of behavior from the two leaders has been typical for the past four months since the succession.

"Now, we have some time before our meal. Let's talk about the planes," Madeline said, starting to address the real matter at hand.

"Former Defense Minister Palmer said there were twelve planes, eight of them transmitting the oceanographic research signal, three disabled, one refuelling tanker. I certainly understand the tanker; the USSVL is a long way away from here. The planes that were transmitting the research signal I could understand if they weren't armed. Palmer's report said the planes were weapon bays were loaded, as observed from the SDS Solidarity. The disabled signals, I'm not sure what that's all about.

"Our first telegram was sent to discern the validity of the survey, with the response being somewhat ambiguous, triggering Palmer's rogue response with the activation of the Ready Reserve. So, two questions, Mister Zarnesti:

"First, whether or not the planes were conducting the survey, why arm them? Certainly, you'd expect unfriendly responses from other nations that don't like the idea of foreign weapons coming so close, regardless of the fact that it was in international waters. Personally, I thought our response was calm and restrained until Palmer acted.

"And second, why the disabled signals on the other three planes?"

Zarnesti slowly makes his way across the hardwood floor, thunder beneath his shoes. He takes a seat, releasing the buttons of his overcoat, allowing his medals to jingle a little. One of the medals seemed to have a radioactivity warning logo pressed into the metal and dated in 2016, others showing some form of triumph. The leader's broad chunky fingers interlock as his fists rest against the table. Deep, glassy eyes staring out Madeline, then Mr Bowers, then Madeline.

"As I have explained, our aircraft have been fitted with a new tank-to-engine fuel delivery system and so have been tested in the last few months. This of course involves flying long distances. Weaponry was accompanying the aircraft as a mass, in an attempt to simulate real world conditions. The aircraft flew with the research team simply for efficiency." (( I'm not doing the accent for the longer bits xD )) His voice echoed some form of iron fist authority.

"The disabled signals were a result of pilot error. The pilots flying had left their checklists behind and have subsequently been dealt with. They used to have competitions of how many flights they could do without the checklists, but they'll certainly not be doing that again." He grumbles lowly, clearly at odds end with the pilots.

He leans back a little and begins to speak again, not giving much chance for a reply. "So, when you got in contact with us, you seemed to be fairly relaxed and were more interested in our findings. Then, next thing I know, I'm woken and brought to a meeting being told that Sil Dorsett is readying for war with our nation."

Madeline lowered her head and shook in disbelief in how one miscalculation by a rogue minister could have caused such a ruckus. She took a more conciliatory tone in her voice as she addressed Alekzander's last remark.

"It wasn't war. It wasn't ever going to be war. Minister Palmer was simply overzealous about the defense of the nation, certainly not to launch a strike. That's not what we do. We're a peaceful nation. We strive for a diplomatic resolution of any conflict. And although we do maintain a military to protect our home, even the mobilization of said military, especially the reserves, can have dire political consequences, as Palmer found out first hand.

"As far as the fact that your planes were armed, I have a suggestion for the next time you decide to conduct such an operation."

Madeline had prepared a search on her phone to show Alekzander an idea on how to avoid conflicts related to letting fully armed aircraft fly provocatively near foreign nations.

"Practice missiles. Clearly marked per international standards so that other nations know that you're simply on a training operation. Produce them to be at the same weight of a live missile, and you'll be able to conduct your missions with accurate realism in relative peace. While you may still get a response from others for approaching, at least it shouldn't be as threatening as if you were carrying a live payload.

"And if someone does strike at you under training conditions... well, you certainly wouldn't be responsible for whatever happens to them later on, right?" Madeline finished, with a smirk on her face, and with Minister Will Bowers looking at her, bug-eyed and shocked that she would even suggest retaliation.
Claidie returned with her culinary staff to deliver the party's meal, smiling and anxious to demonstrate her willingness to be hands-on, rather than be attended to by servants. She then took her seat next to the two ministers and across from the Leninian delegation, rather than at the head of the table which was customary before her reign.

"I'm sorry, Mister Zarnesti," Claidie said, addressing the leader. "I wanted this to be a surprise, the fact that I was actually cooking and not just demanding that others do things for me. I trust you and my ministers have had a productive conversation so far?"

Zarnesti's beady eyes tell no lies, he spares the princess only a brief look of offence. "Responsible for what would happen later on?" Alekzander scoffs. "So its a blame game that we play if someone were to launch warheads on my peaceful people."

He folds his arms, evidently disgusted at such a statement. "I recognise that it may have been scary for you, planes flying across your borders. But you are implying that there would be some form of brash conflict." His face was beginning to tint red a little, a small vein starting to bulge from his temples. A thick accent piles on with his frustration, making it a little harder to understand.

"You speak as though the only bad conduct here was from my nation, your rapidly mobilising forces gave us a bad feeling, I must say." He looks between the three. "I have no idea what your military procedures are, but when intelligence lands on my desk that you're gearing up your equipment for war, a lot of activity goes on in my end too." He sits back in his chair, having slowly made his way to lean forwards during his rant, letting our a long sigh.

"As for the dummy missiles," He begins, cooler now, less tense. "it costs a lot of money and I have people to look after and consider their welfare first." Zarnesti clears his throat and searches the table for a drink, taking a healthy swig.

This socialist leader wasn't a pleased one. Perhaps his reaction was a little aggressive, but in his eyes it was deserved, having imperialists scooching around attempting to put him in his place.

Madeline tensed up, worried that her remarks were making the situation worse.

"Mister Zarnesti, please..." Madeline spoke out of desperation. "The blame is with us. More specifically a rogue minister, but still with us. The mobilization of the reserves was unnecessary." Turning towards Claidie, she addressed the current military situation and what to do about it. "Claidie, please, stop the drills. We don't need them."

"That's your call, I put you in charge of that until you find a new defense minister," Claidie replied.

Trying to calm down, Madeline sought to clarify her remarks about responsibility. "What I meant, Mister Zarnesti, was that we recognize that the actions your military has taken were legal and that any attack by any other party against such legal operations conducted by your military would be in violation of international law, and you would have the right to respond. There wouldn't be any blame game."

Madeline then addressed her earlier idea. "As far as the dummy missiles are concerned, seeing as Claidie doesn't have a use for millions of Settis in "cultural development", I'm sure we could redirect that funding to a deal and provide the dummy missiles for your missions if you desire them. We could find other budget cuts to make up for it if the public feels government spending is still too high, right?"

Minister Bowers remained shocked over a potential weapons trade, which Claidie was quick to address. "Yeah, I know about that program. They're inert, so I don't have a problem with it. My family has always held a policy of pursuing peace first, something I will continue. If this helps, I'm all for it."



(ooc edit: plothole fix)

Zarnesti waves his fist, almost dismissively. "And what will my people think when foreign weapons appear, let alone dummies?" He grumble and grovels at the thought. Slowly, he draws in a long, deep breath, releasing it.

The red leader seems to be lost for words, his mind racing with a mixture of anger, frustration and deep political thought. He takes another sip of his drink, then moving to dab his forehead with a cloth.

"I would be a laughing stock to my people and that will not happen." Speaking with a firm tone and a dark look towards the members of the table, his gaze seeming to rest on Bowers for some unbeknownst reason.

It was a shock to Alekzander that such a monarchist nation would suggest paying for training weapons for his socialist regime. If the news broke, Zarnesti would be crucified by his people, seeing it as some form of imperialist influence on his nation.

Minister Bowers had enough of the incompetence of the Prime Minister and the Princess. Taking matters into his own hands, he sought to take control of the situation, which to him appeared to be spiraling towards disaster. The minister needed vital information if he was to prevent a conflict from escalating into anything that endangered the public.

"Miss Ellison, Your Highness, enough. You both had your chance, now let me do the job you gave me. Mister Zarnesti, if I may, let me outline everything that I've heard thus far...

"Miss Ellison proposed the use of inert missiles for your training operations, to which you replied that the cost was better spent towards the well-being of the nation. We offered to provide the technology, but you have declined, citing an issue with the appearance of foreign products in your military. I'm not sure if this extends to civilian products as well, but if this is the case, I respect your nation's desire for self-sufficiency, and I believe that matter, regardless of whether my assessment is right or wrong, is closed. We will consider the facts presented thus far regarding any further training or research mission that is launched and is in close proximity to our nation.

"We also recognize the fact that the research operation was conducted in international waters and performed legally under international law. There was no reason for Minister Palmer to activate the reserves and his doing so only served to escalate matters rather than resolve them per our standing policy of seeking peaceful resolutions first, even if that means simply not responding to an event.

"This evidence presents a clear case that our government is responsible for the escalation of tensions between our two nations, to which I believe the three of us can agree..." he said pointing towards Madeline and Claidie, "... that we bear full responsibility for it and apologize."

Minister Ellison and Princess Claidie solemnly nodded in confirmation.

Minister Bowers then continued, getting to his point and seeking the information he needed. "I believe the final matter to discuss is what you ask of us. Since we are the ones responsible for starting this conflict, what can we do to put an end to our disagreement and resolve this matter?"

Silence falls upon the room.

Zarnesti looks towards Minister Ellison and Monarch Claidie, then back towards Bowers and again.

After a few moments of tense looks back and forth a wide grin spreads across Alekzander's moustached face. He begins to chuckle a little, leaning forwards some and continuing to laugh. Finally, he sits back and wipes his brow a little. "He is a keen one, no?" He speaks, his accent toning in. He speaks more to the more experienced members at the table, rather than the presumed child of politics.

He takes a sip out of his glass and wipes his mouth with a small white napkin, tucking it back into his pocket. He returned to silence, looking between the three, a fading smile on his face as it begins to set in that Mr Bower's outburst wasn't a joke.

"What does the great state of Vladimir Lenin want? The ability to exist with its neighbours without witnessing a mobilsation of military?" His tone transgresses from calmish to retortion.

"Well then, it sounds as though we don't have a problem here, Mister Zarnesti," Will replied. "Let's think about what the Principality can do to make things right."

Turning towards Claidie, Will carried on. "We could write a letter of apology, though I believe Her Highness already took care of that," he said, stressing the words "Her Highness."

"I swear to Silia, you say that again, and we will have problems," Claidie said in disgust towards Will.

Turning then towards Madeline, he said, "We could end the military drills, send the reservists home, and stop wasting money maintaining Palmer's ridiculously sized reserve force, instead shifting those resources into my department so I can do my job."

"Let me make a phone call," Madeline replied quickly and angrily.

"And finally, we could not waste Mister Zarnesti's time with a pointless house call. He's here to address us and the nation, so let's let him have the floor in the Chamber of the Nobles with all of Parliament there to listen in. And then we let him drive the agenda if there's anything further."

"Chamber of the Commons, Will. We'll hold it there," Claidie retorted, not wanting to expose the communist leader to what she felt was the unnecessary extravagance of the upper house.

"You'll be lucky if the barons show up," Will replied.

"We will make them," Claidie vowed. "And anyone that doesn't show will lose their titles!"

Embarrassed by the minister's revolt, she looked towards the Leninian delegation and apologized for the Dorsettian government's display. She then suggested everyone at the table finish their meal before moving on to Parliament.

The delegation falls quiet, making their way through the meal, one of the delegation members seemingly poking through her food, looking to see if anything had been put in it.


The meal concluded and the delegation rose on their side of the table, dusting the monarchic dust that had settled on them while they sat. Zarnesti (left) lifted his cap from the desk, sitting it square on his head, followed by his jacket, letting the array of dangerous looking medals jangle as he did. The remains of the delegation adjusted their uniforms, mostly comprised of black and red (right).

As the grouped delegations filed out of the room, Zarnesti seemed to join the Prime Minister and the Monarch, slowing his walking to hang back a little, looking across at the two of them. It was clear he was trying to distance them from Bowers. "Do you remember...", he pauses for a moment, still walking, glancing ahead to make sure he's not about to trip, "... the last time one of your ministers overstepped the mark?"

Zarnesti's remark was indeed troubling to the young princess, not out of any possible disrespect from Zarnesti, but because he was right. Will had disrespected the princess and the prime minister. But Claidie didn't seem eager to deal with the problem right away, instead telling Zarnesti "I'll deal with him later." In Claidie's mind, unlike Palmer before who endangered the nation with his mobilization, Will may have saved the visit by shoving the agenda back onto the road from the dirt.

Having received the call during the preparation stages of the visit, the elected members of parliament had already arrived in the Chamber of the Commons in the western wing of the palace, debating new legislation while waiting for the Princess and the Commissar. The chamber was a modestly designed room, simple in form and lacking the frills of the Nobles' chamber. Twenty-four tables and seats made a half-circle around a podium, with a place for the Speaker of the Chamber, the clerk, and the Prime Minister if present. Behind the tables were folding chairs set for the Nobles, much to their disgust, followed by additional seats for others in attendance.

"Miss Ellison, summon the nobles," Claidie instructed.

The minister left the group as the rest of them filed into the chamber. Claidie raised her hand slightly to stop the Speaker, Isaac Castellan, from announcing her arrival.

Minister Ellison entered the Chamber of the Nobles, a much more ornate room with a pair of gilded thrones for the Monarch and a spouse if there were one. With the Princess not present, fancy chairs with silver leafing for each of the nobles, thirteen in all, formed a circle so that they may discuss matters amongst themselves, with enough room to create a half-circle around the throne if necessary. The same folding chairs were plentily available, as it was normal for the Commons to come to the Nobles' chamber for an address, rather than the other way around.

The nobles gazed upon the minister as she called them to the Commons. "The Princess commands the Peers to attend Her Royal Highness immediately in the Chamber of the Commons. Your attendance is mandatory, on penalty of the loss of your peerages." Saying nothing more, she walked out and returned to the Commons. The nobles were baffled. Not once before did the monarch command them to the Commons. However, the threat of being stripped of their honours was to be taken seriously, and the nobles obliged without dispute.

With all seated, and Zarnesti offered the speaking podium, Claidie introduced her guest. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Commissar Alekzander Zarnesti of the United Socialist States of Vladimir Lenin, who is here to address all of you and our nation concerning a recent military incident and any other matter he deems fit to discuss. You will all give him your silence and undivided attention. Mister Zarnesti, if you would, please..."

Zarnesti nodded in a respectful manner, not just to the residing princess, but also to her delegation and his own. He stepped forwards, laying his hands onto either side of the podium. As he opened, he dug out a small notepad with some illegible scribbles on it, setting it out in front of him. "Good day, people of the Dorsettian house, visiting people of the Central Committee and Party Congress and..." He paused for a slight second, peering toward the bourgeois nobles "others in attendance." He continued, shifting his focus back to the 'real' politicians.

"I come before you today, as already mentioned, to speak about the recent altercation between our nations." He shifted a little, he made sure to make eye contact with each individual as he spoke, making his way around, never spending too long or too little time looking at one single person. However, it was subtly clear that he avoided casting his eyes toward the nobility in attendance, instead giving them a quick glance to check they're still awake and not lighting cigars with [100$ equivalent] bills.

"Our activities over the North Pacific were truly of a wholesome nature. It was our intention to test our newly designed fuel delivery system, thanks to the wonderful engineers of Vladmir Lenin." He glances towards his notebook for a brief moment, preparing his next segment. "It was of course expected that an informal response would be experienced, but nothing of ex-minister Palmer's magnitude." He offered a smile, mixed with a grin. His expression welcomed a little bit of warmth and understanding, perhaps even suggesting it should be considered to be a mistake of the past and potentially something that could be joked about now.

"With that said, I think that it is wildly important that Vladmir Lenin forgives and forgets such brash action." He pauses for a moment, quietly attempting to hold himself back from going off on one about the right wing and complaining about the immediate actions not representing the people. "And to seal such a deal, I do invite the Sil Dorsettian Commons Delegation to visit the great city of Leningrad on the 12th May, this year." He chose his wording carefully, inviting the politicians of the group, rather than the sponges of the taxpayers sat on the chairs at the back of the Commons house.

He tucks his notepad away, broadening his smile a little, his moustache lifting upwards at the edges. "I would also like to open this discussion to you, the representatives of your people. If any of you have anything to say, please do not be afraid to bring it forwards." Alekzander glances around the room, markedly avoiding the noble's area, checking for any input before closing the speech.