- Pronouns
- he/him
- TNP Nation
- Arcanstotska
Friday
12 November 2021
7:36 PM
Eagle 2, Personal Presidential Jet
Siloyev International Airport
Sidorov relaxed back into his chair and took in a deep breath of relief as he enjoyed the heated interior of the jet; a welcome contrast to the bitter cold of the Arcanstotskan winter present outside. He was glad to finally get away from the capital and the stress of politics, even if it was only for a weekend.
However, in all honesty, he was still surprised. A weekend hunting trip in Prydania with the King himself. Never in a million years did he think a monarch would ask him to their country for a hunting trip, or generally for anything other than the business of diplomacy. He wasn’t complaining, though. It had been quite some time since he had the opportunity to go hunting; he needed to sharpen his skills again and get a new deer head for his wall.
He couldn’t help but think back to when he was a little kid, going hunting with his father in the mountains. Initially he didn’t like hunting but eventually got used to what it required. Not to mention he enjoyed that quality time with his father.
“Mr. President,” the pilot’s voice came on over the intercom, “please fasten your seatbelt and sit in the upright position; we are about to take off, sir.” Sidorov did as the pilot instructed.
The jet began to slowly accelerate and lift off the ground and into the air. Sidorov looked out the window to see Siloyev from the sky above. He could see the Presidential Palace, the National Assembly building, and the rest of the city lights slowly shrink and fade beneath the clouds.
A waitress walked over with a trolley of bottles; wines from across the world. Saintonge, Predice, Midir, among many others. One bottle caught his eye.
“Would you like a drink, Mr. President?” The waitress asked, presenting to him the trolley.
“Yes,” Sidorov replied, “I’ll have a glass of Saintonian bordeaux please.” He smiled. The waitress poured the red bordeaux into a glass sitting on the table in front of the president. The waitress smiled and continued on.
Sidorov had fallen in love with Saintonian wines since becoming president in 2019, with red bordeaux becoming his personal favorite. He took the wine glass in his hand and swished the drink around in the glass as he took out a book. “Speaking Prydanian 101” was in bold red text across the cover.
It was another two-and-a-half hours before the jet touched down in Prydania. The night lights of Býkonsviði slowly began to fade into view as the clouds passed. Eagle 2 touched down at the city’s airport and Sidorov rose from his seat to slip his winter coat back on.
As he stepped outside he was greeted by the bitter cold of a Prydanian November. Sidorov could feel a difference from the cold back home. Walking down the steps of the jet, he was greeted by two Prydanian men dressed in winter clothes. Knights of the Storm, he figured.
“Good evening, Mr. President, and welcome to Prydania,” one of them welcomed, motioning to the limousine behind him. “His Majesty awaits you in Skógurheorot.” The other Knight opened the door to the backseat. Two of Sidorov’s aides stepped down from the jet carrying two suitcases; things he’d need for the weekend. His rifle, his winter camouflage, etc. Two other Knights rushed over to the aides and took hold of the suitcases before putting them in the back. Sidorov climbed into the backseat and pulled out his “Prydanian 101” book again.
The limousine eventually passed beyond the lights of Býkonsviði faded behind him. It wasn’t long before the limo arrived at the entrance to a castle. Skógurheorot. The limo came to a halt in front of the entrance and a Knight rushed over to open the backseat door. Sidorov stepped out, back into the Prydanian cold.
12 November 2021
7:36 PM
Eagle 2, Personal Presidential Jet
Siloyev International Airport
Sidorov relaxed back into his chair and took in a deep breath of relief as he enjoyed the heated interior of the jet; a welcome contrast to the bitter cold of the Arcanstotskan winter present outside. He was glad to finally get away from the capital and the stress of politics, even if it was only for a weekend.
However, in all honesty, he was still surprised. A weekend hunting trip in Prydania with the King himself. Never in a million years did he think a monarch would ask him to their country for a hunting trip, or generally for anything other than the business of diplomacy. He wasn’t complaining, though. It had been quite some time since he had the opportunity to go hunting; he needed to sharpen his skills again and get a new deer head for his wall.
He couldn’t help but think back to when he was a little kid, going hunting with his father in the mountains. Initially he didn’t like hunting but eventually got used to what it required. Not to mention he enjoyed that quality time with his father.
“Mr. President,” the pilot’s voice came on over the intercom, “please fasten your seatbelt and sit in the upright position; we are about to take off, sir.” Sidorov did as the pilot instructed.
The jet began to slowly accelerate and lift off the ground and into the air. Sidorov looked out the window to see Siloyev from the sky above. He could see the Presidential Palace, the National Assembly building, and the rest of the city lights slowly shrink and fade beneath the clouds.
A waitress walked over with a trolley of bottles; wines from across the world. Saintonge, Predice, Midir, among many others. One bottle caught his eye.
“Would you like a drink, Mr. President?” The waitress asked, presenting to him the trolley.
“Yes,” Sidorov replied, “I’ll have a glass of Saintonian bordeaux please.” He smiled. The waitress poured the red bordeaux into a glass sitting on the table in front of the president. The waitress smiled and continued on.
Sidorov had fallen in love with Saintonian wines since becoming president in 2019, with red bordeaux becoming his personal favorite. He took the wine glass in his hand and swished the drink around in the glass as he took out a book. “Speaking Prydanian 101” was in bold red text across the cover.
It was another two-and-a-half hours before the jet touched down in Prydania. The night lights of Býkonsviði slowly began to fade into view as the clouds passed. Eagle 2 touched down at the city’s airport and Sidorov rose from his seat to slip his winter coat back on.
As he stepped outside he was greeted by the bitter cold of a Prydanian November. Sidorov could feel a difference from the cold back home. Walking down the steps of the jet, he was greeted by two Prydanian men dressed in winter clothes. Knights of the Storm, he figured.
“Good evening, Mr. President, and welcome to Prydania,” one of them welcomed, motioning to the limousine behind him. “His Majesty awaits you in Skógurheorot.” The other Knight opened the door to the backseat. Two of Sidorov’s aides stepped down from the jet carrying two suitcases; things he’d need for the weekend. His rifle, his winter camouflage, etc. Two other Knights rushed over to the aides and took hold of the suitcases before putting them in the back. Sidorov climbed into the backseat and pulled out his “Prydanian 101” book again.
The limousine eventually passed beyond the lights of Býkonsviði faded behind him. It wasn’t long before the limo arrived at the entrance to a castle. Skógurheorot. The limo came to a halt in front of the entrance and a Knight rushed over to open the backseat door. Sidorov stepped out, back into the Prydanian cold.
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