The Wedding of Nurendir and Vivika

Loz

Loz

TNPer
-
Aremnalis, Alnaria

"Well how does it sound?" Asked Fenris to his son. "Yeah that sounds fine dad." Nurendir replied. The King sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Its your wedding son, I'd like it to sound more than 'its fine'." Nurendir gave a chuckle. "Well do we want it to sound stiff and diplomatic or do we want it to sound like an invitation to some friends." "It isn't about what we want, its about what you and Viv want." Nurendir leaned back in his chair with his arms behind his head. "Well alright lets go stiff and diplomatic then, I'll send out the friendly invitation in the group chat." Fenris shook his head,. "Ah yes, the young world leaders group chat, I'm sure nothing you post in there will comer back to bite you in any way in the future." Nurendir scoffed and began to say. " The future is now old ma..." The Collison of Fenris' notebook with Nurnedir's head however brought an untimely end to the thought. "Now pick that up and give it back. They're getting one sentence letters. The household ministry can deal with the formalities."
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Dear Friends,

You are cordially invited to the wedding of my Son Nurendir to his bride to be Vivika of Essalanea, here in the Golden City. We look forward to hosting you here in Armenalis, and thank you for celebrating this joyous occasion with us. Itinerary, lodging and scheduling will be forthcoming from the household ministry.

-Fenris
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Young Royals Group Chat

Nurendir: Getting married April 1st, y'all coming?


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Official Communication From The Royal Household Ministry of Alnaria


Good day, and we hope this finds you well. Enclosed is an official invitation and RSVP form for the wedding of Crown Prince Nurendir. In addition to details regarding official travel and event itinerary we have enclosed a standardized lodging request and information sheet, in order to make your stay in Alanria as carefree and joyous as possible. Please return at your earliest possible convenience.

Meahdros Telemen
Royal Warden
Minister of the Royal Household


Lodging Enclosure:

The Elenna is a love letter to old world luxury. Located nearly adjacent to the Royal Palace, it has sees the Kingdom's highs and lows. Never failing to show its guests the highest degree of courtesy and elegance.
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Vaiai Rembra offers a slightly more lively experience than the Elenna. Frequented by business travelers, vactationers and dignitaries alike. The Rembra offers it all by the Sea.
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The Hwesta is the most modern of our three recommendations. Located on the heart of Alnaria's beach strip, we recommend this accommodation to someone seeking a taste of the cities nightlife.
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While we recommend these fine establishments, guests are of course welcome to find their own accommodation within the city whether that be another hotel or a rented or owned private residence. In the interest of security we do however request that guest stay within the city.

Application:
Nation (Full name):
Delegate(s) Attending:
Lodging of Choice:
Special Requests:
Any additional comments:
 
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Nation (Full Name): Second Arcanstotskan Republic
Delegate(s) Attending:
The First Family of the Second Republic
  • President Sidorov Kolibin
  • First Lady Ayla Kolibina
Two guardsmen of the Republican Guard to provide personal security
Lodging of Choice: Vaiai Rembra
Special Requests: N/A
Any Additional Comments: N/A
 
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Nation (Full name): The Grand Sultanate of Aydin
Delegate(s) Attending: Grand Sultan Osman Hakan'ın oğlu
Hatun Emiri Hakan'ın oğlu
Four Desert Wolf Imperial Guardsmen
Lodging of Choice: Vaiai Rembra
Special Requests: Please leave a plate of Baklava in Emiri's room, and please distribute to Osman extra room keys for others.
Any additional comments:
 
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Nation (Full name): The Greater Empire of Tardine
Delegate(s) Attending:
Royal Family of Tardine:
  • Emperor Jasemir Partei Kladerai
  • Mother Empress Alane Partei Kladerai
  • Princess Erianne Partei Kladerai
Six guardsmen of the Royal Imperial Guard
Lodging of Choice: Vaiai Rembra
Special Requests: A separate room with sea view to Jasemir.
Any additional comments: Alane and Erianne are deadly allergic to sea food.
 
Nation (Full name): The Democratic Kingdom of Lesta
Delegate(s) Attending: The Lesta Royal Family
Lord lengar the Third
Lady Rani the First
Prince Hector the Second
Princess Alexia the First
The Lesta Prime Minister and his Wife
Neville Hall
Eleanor Hall
Eight Administrative/Royal Guards
Lodging of Choice: Vaiai Rembra
Special Requests: A room with a sea view and a copy of the Daily Lesta Newspaper brought to Mr Hall's room each morning.
Any additional comments: Alexia is Lactose intolerance and Eleanor has a mild allergy to peanuts.
 
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Nation (Full name): Commonwealth of Aubervijr
Delegate(s) Attending:
  1. Chancellor Johannes van der Capellen
  2. Second Lady Daniëlle van der Capellen
  3. Foreign Minister Laurens Elzinga
Lodging of Choice: Elenna Endaria
Special Requests: Rooms for six servicemen from the State Security Service, and a separate room for Laurens
Any additional comments: N/A
 
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Nation (Full name): Kingdom of Prydania
Delegates Attending:
  • King Tobias III Loðbrók
  • Queen Alycia Saitta-Loðbrók
  • Markgraf Rylond Van Jórvík

Lodging of Choice: Vaiai Rembra
Special Requests: A separate room for Markgraf Jórvík from His and Her Majesty would be appreciated. And if possible a bottle of Prydanian brennivín in each room.
Any additional comments: N/A
 
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Nation (Full name): Syrixian Empire
Delegate(s) Attending:
  • His Majesty The Emperor (OOC note: Rajesh)
  • Her Majesty The Empress Consort
  • Hon'ble Om Dharmesh Narvekar, Minister of the Left
Lodging of Choice: Elenna Endaria
Special Requests: A separate room for Minister Narvekar from His and Her Majesty, as well as for the Sentinels guarding the couple.
Any additional comments: We congratulate the Crown Prince and his betrothed on their impending marriage and, in the spirit of the grand alliance between the two empires, shall attend these proceedings with great joy.
 
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Nation (Full name): The Principality of Sil Dorsett
Delegate(s) Attending:
  • Princess Claidie Dorsett, accompanied by Mr. Isaac Castellan
  • Princess Alice Dorsett, accompanied by Mr. Oliver DeFries
  • Prime Minister Madeline Ellison, with her children Rachel and Heather Bowers
Lodging of Choice: Vaiai Rembra
Special Requests: We'll need three rooms for the delegates, and additional accommodations for security.
Any additional comments: N/A
 
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Application:
Nation (Full name): Exalted Empire of Astragon
Delegate(s) Attending: Exalt Empress Sabhrain Nkosha Na Kevsha I, Vizier of Estates Fazzah
Lodging of Choice: Private Estate in the city proper
Special Requests: Additional accommodation for the Empresses security detail
Any additional comments:
 
Nation (Full name):United Clans of Essalanea
Delegate(s) Attending: King Gaiseric Volkmann, Queen Anegrette of Kimbri, Alric Volkmann, Hidle Kimbri, Chieftain Magnar Hureg, Chieftain Helbrandt Karg, Chieftain Otilla Rugen, Vargen Hureg, Faygar Falke, High Priest Drescher Rugen, Bard Herg Volkmann
Lodging of Choice: The Royal Palace
Special Requests: Access to the bride during the pre-ceremony so as to ensure proper clan rites and blessings are fulfilled
Any additional comments: We are bringing enough ale to drown the continent, have the meats ready and we'll bring the five string!
 
Nation (Full name): The Republic of Mondari
Delegate(s) Attending: Athena Yujin
Lodging of Choice: Elenna Endaria
Special Requests: An adjoining room for Yujin's security detail.
Any additional comments: N/A
 
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Nation (Full name): The Kingdom of Saintonge
Delegate(s) Attending:
  • Crown Princes Thibault-Maximilian and Timothée-Brice of Saintonge
  • Lord Protector Kilian-Brice of Bavière
  • Santonian Minister of Foreign Affairs Marcelline Tréhet and her fiancée Charles-Ferdinand de Pontleroy
Lodging of Choice: Vaiai Rembra
Special Requests: Five rooms, one for the two princes and the lord protector, one for the Foreign Minister, and three for the security, logistics, and translator staff. Allowance/permission to import certain Santonian goods (wine, cheese, meat, food)
Any additional comments: N/A
 
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Nation (Full name): The Pinkpire of Communist Beijing Must be China
Delegate(s) Attending: Effentis IV, Helmeiner IV, Spadian III
Lodging of Choice: Vaiai Rembra
Special Requests: German Translators.
Any additional comments: N/A

This post does not meet with our community standards. Please note that Eras is not connected to nation states and is completely unconnected with real world cultures. If you want to get involved in the setting feel free to make a map claim and we will help get you started.

-The Mod Team
 
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South Iteria

Armenalis

Capital of Alnaria

Alnarian Royal Palace


Herg strummed the five-string with a lazy hand as he lounged on the sun-drenched balcony, the Alnarian lands were certainly picturesque, even the aged bard of clan Volkmann found himself dropping his guard here. On the steppe, peace was an elusive creature, its presence fleeting at best, to become complacent was to invite rival clans and feral beasts the opportunity to strike. Alnaria was different though, here in the realm of king Fenris a man could actually afford a moment's peace in the sun and not risk his life to get it.

The room's primary occupant did not seem as taken with the fragrant summer's day as Herg however. Vivika of Kimbri, soon to be Vivika of Alnaria, had spent the better part of the morning sharpening her ceremonial blade compulsively, her hands were already raw against the flat of the whetstone. Any attempts by the palace staff or her own clan guests to calm the bride to be had failed thus far and the day of vows was fast approaching.

Essalanean women seldom got this emotional about marriage back home, love on the steppe was a strong but deeply practical arrangement. In a culture where life seldom went past fifty sentimentalities had little place, you liked someone so you married and stuck with them till disease or war put a natural end to life's struggle. Unhorsed were, trickier, much more prone to fits of passion and concepts of courtly love that often proved lethal on the steppe, and somehow those notions had infected the temperament of Essalanea’s most prized steppe flower.

“Are you planning on cutting the sun with that blade!?” Anegrette snapped as she entered the bridal chamber

The queen of Essalanea was no stranger to weddings, barely a year had passed since her own, but she found the mad passion of Vivika’s love for Nurendir to be deeply unusual. Anegrette and Gaiseric were as intimate and loving a couple as could be found as far as Essalanean marriages went, but Essalanean love was a love for one another's strength and deeply rooted in understandings of group survival. This unhorsed madness of eloping and putting aside all duties in the name of some soppy concept of attachment was alien to most Essalaneans.

“The edge must be perfect for when I present it to Nurendir!” Vivika hissed not looking up from her frantic work

Anegrette smiled in spite of herself, her sister was nervous, it was oddly endearing to see the red adder's* youngest in such a flustered mood. Vivika had slain rivals and fought in great battles and never lost her nerve but this boy, this “Nurendir” had clearly proven a far more competent adversary. Her typically oiled and plaited black hair was currently a tangled mess and judging from the rings under her eyes Vivika had not slept in several days.

“The marital blade is not meant for war, it is a symbol of your union, an edge for cutting the cord of newborn children and if necessary, ending the suffering of the old and infirm” Anegrette replied trying very hard not to sound lecturing

“Our people always did love morbid practicality! This is Alnaria! Not the steppe?! I'm more likely to cut cakes and develop a bulging belly than give anyone a sendoff with this thing!” Vivika said irritably as she dropped the blade onto the dresser and turned to face her elder sister

“You look like Karg raiders dragged you along for a few miles on a rope!” Anegrette muttered unable to resist a slight scalding edge in her voice

“Why did you come here!? To lecture me? To get one last “Lastborn” dig in before you give me away?” Vivika said accusingly

“I came to tell you that you need to stop stressing so much, no wedding is ever perfect, mine ended in a battle for Ziu's sake!” Anegrette replied defensively

“Yes...and mine will end alone amongst a thousand strangers,” Vivika said in a sorrowful voice

That struck a chord, Anegrette hadn't considered how hard it must have been for Vivika to consider life beyond the steppe. Discussions amongst the clans were already growing hard to suppress as to what might happen if children were born, would they be Alnarian? Essalanean? Or perhaps something altogether more confusing. Her sister suddenly seemed less like her warrior self and more like a frightened and isolated girl, it was a rare moment of vulnerability.

“So long as you draw breath you will never be alone sister, the steppe is in your blood, and besides...Iteria is not so far from home, your children will be expected to return for their trials” Anegrette said in a soothing voice as she gave a reassuring smile

That seem to work, Vivika sighed and lay back as exhaustion and resignation finally were allowed to set in. She picked up the blade and regarded it, it was a masterwork of Essalanean smithing, horses and wild beasts danced across the ivory hilt and the blade was a curved point of Karg blue steel, babies' cords would be severed with ease, this weapon could easily do the same to unguarded jugulars.

“So... walk me through the ceremony again, wouldn’t want to confirm to our esteemed guests that the savage plains girl is as crude as they think,” Vivika asked dryly

Anegrette strode over to the mannequin in the room's corner, a heavy clan robe lay upon its frame, stitched panels of gold lace flowed across the hem of the dress, and the edges of red-stained silk were lined with soft black marmot fur. A pair of woolen breeches lay beneath, dark black to heighten the contrast with the robe and a pair of elegantly styled riding boots rested on the stone floor. This was a clan dress fit for a king's wedding, if the clans had any sense of opulence, it was best expressed in this garment.

“Well...assuming our hosts have no objections...Gaiseric and the menfolk will fight Nurendir and the Alnarians in a mock battle while myself and Fenris adjudicate, once Nurdendir has proven his strength we give our blessing and you lock right hands” Anegrette explained matter-factly

“Please tell me you're not actually planning on invoking the *Messung!” Vivika blurted out in shock

The rite in question had always been infamous for its overenthusiastic participants, a man of the steppe was expected to be his wife's equal in all matters not least strength, it was tradition for the bride's family to test the groom's worth. Bloodletting was rare, though not unheard of, and weapons were typically blunted, it was however not unusual for many a groom to end his wedding night with an impressive collection of bruises...and the occasionally broken rib. Vivika struggled to suppress the nightmarish image of Nurendir being beaten to a bloodied pulp by several drunken relatives, her wedding was sounding more and more like a durance than any battle she had fought.

Anegrette smirked and answered with feigned disappointment “Ziu’s law is clear dear sister... The high priest will not bless the union otherwise...besides I convinced the boys to restrict themselves to fists”

Vivika placed her head in her hands “Essalan help me! You're going to kill my husband before he’s even married me!” Vivika groaned in exasperation

“It's a formality! Nothing more! Besides it's already been agreed that if the Alnarians get to do their weird unhorsed rites, we get to honor our traditions too” Anegrette said in an authoritative tone

“I hate you, sister....” Vivika replied with wearied annoyance

“I love you too lastborn...now...get some sleep! Soon you marry the man you love.... assuming Helbrandt doesn’t get to him first...”

“Out!” Vivika yelled as Anegrette left the room with a barely suppressed cackle

On the balcony, Herg finally settled on a tune to commemorate the occasion, an old steppe tune sung by mercenaries leaving home.

“Seeker bird seeker bird! Fly where you will! Seeker Bird Seeker bird o’er the hill, Seeker bird seeker bird go where you will! Ne’er to meet again till old bones grow still!”

*Saskia of clan Kimbri, the chieftain that dethroned the previous clan paramount in the west and led clan Kimbri from obscurity to prominance. Founded the port city of Kimbria and established the Kimbri as the pre-eminent clan pushing for modernity. Known popularly as the "red adder"

*Essalanean marital right, literally “measuring” in which the groom must prove himself strong enough to be worthy of marrying the bride
 
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Armenalis, Alnaria
Vaiai Rembra

"Armenalis...ArmenALis...ArMENalis..." Tobias rolled the name of the Alnarian capital around as he looked around his and Alycia's quarters.

"Why are you saying that over and over?" Alycia asked as Tobias sat backwards in a chair, straddling it as he rested his arms over top.

"It's strange, don't you think?" he replied. "It sounds strange..."

"That's Nurlinorian," Alycia replied.
"I don't know it myself..."

Tobias shrugged. He was actually fairly accomplished linguistically for someone of his informal education level. Mostly due to Prydania's own multi-linguistic nature. But Nurlinorian was another spoon in the ceiling, as he's was want to say. The way it worked just did not fit with what he was used to from Prydanian.

He just sighed and began to undress. The flight down had been long...and he needed to get out of his clothing. Especially as he'd dressed for Prydania in November. Alnaria in November was a very different beast, climate wise.

"But you remember what we were told? There's a patchwork of languages here. Mercanti will work best," Alycia added.

"Great," Tobias muttered in Prydanian. His Santonian was getting better. He no longer had as aggressive a Prydansk accent when he spoke it, even if he knew he'd never shake it entirely with the language.
But his Mercanti...he always had a very pronounced accent when he spoke Mercanti. It was something he was embarrassed by.

Alycia knew that and walked up behind him, kissing his neck as he hung up his faded grey Army coat.
"You shouldn't worry," she said as she held him and rested a head on his shoulder from behind.
"Your accent is cute."

Tobias turned around in her grasp, smiling as he looked down into her eyes, and leaned in, kissing her. Alycia kissed back, the two of them leaning into each other before Alycia, reluctantly, broke the kiss.

"We're meeting people soon..." she said softly.
"I don't think we have time."

Tobias smiled and sighed...
"You're right," he said, switching from Prydanian to Norsian. A language he'd been able to manage far more to his liking.
"Later then..." he said softly as he kissed his wife's forehead before the two broke their embrace. Tobias looked before the wardrobe that had been laid out before him... he still wasn't used to this. He never felt like he'd ever get used to trying to figure out what to wear.

"Have you seen who's staying at this place with us?" Alycia said as she went to freshen up in the bathroom.

"The Dorsetts, Santonians, Kladerais, the President of Arcanstotska..." Tobias replied as he buttoned up a shot sleeved collared cotton shirt.

"Osman," Alycia added, sticking her head out of the bathroom.

"I was only listing people I like," Tobias muttered.

"Well," Alycia replied, "this is a wedding. So you should be nice."

Tobias smiled softly and sighed.
"He's spoiled," Tobias added as he slipped into khakis.

"I know he is," Alycia said with a shrug.
"But he's the Sultan of Aydin. And with how things are in Essalanea..."

"You're the one who said you'd kick Rajesh out of our wedding if he tried that bullshit," Tobias teased.

"I'm not saying anything about politics," Alycia replied in a faux stern voice betrayed by her grin.
"But things would be easier overall if we were all pleasant."

"I promise," Tobias said, with he and his wife fully changed into lighter, less formal clothing for the climate.
"That I won't be a fiskdós*, even if he mentions that fokking yacht."

"Thank you," Alycia said as she gasped onto Tobias' feet, went to her tiptoes, and kissed him gently. Tobias grinned and gave her a peck on the lips too.

The truth was it wouldn't be hard. Alnaria was a beautiful country. The wedding would be lovely, and the friends here outnumbered those who weren't.


*fiskdós- Prydanian for "fish tin." Also a derogatory insult for an unpleasant person in Prydanian
 
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Nation (Full name): Imperium Suavidici
Delegate(s) Attending: Imperator Augustus, and his companion Beatrix
Lodging of Choice:Vaiai Rembra
Special Requests: none
Any additional comments: None
 
Accompaniment: Where is my mind?

Armenalis, Alnaria

Osman leaned against the balcony rails as he gazed out across the coast, watching as the waves crashed against the soft sands of the resort's beach. He had always enjoyed the ocean; its noises and patterns calmed him as a child. When his father beat him, he always ran to his room. Always trying to block out the voices and listen to the ocean that sat just outside his bedroom window. He was consumed by its aura, his mind fixated on the peaceful nature of the scene, trying to drown out his other harsher thoughts.

The peace was interrupted by a slight knock on the wall behind him.

"You alright, Osman?" A soft voice asked from inside the hotel room.

"I'm fine." He turned to look behind him, leaning against the railing as he stared at his sister, who had now walked out onto the balcony with him.

"You don't look like it." She said, her eyes scanning his.

"What do you mean?" Osman looked away from her gaze and back at the beach.

"I know that look on your face Osman." She said, moving closer to him to stand beside him. "You're nervous again."

"I am not." He said, still trying to focus on the view.

"You're a terrible liar. What's on your mind." She said, putting her arm around him and turning his head to look at her

"It's dad again," Osman said quietly as if trying to make sure no one could hear him but her. "I just... I can't stop thinking about everything he said about me, how I'd amount to nothing, or how I'd make a mockery of myself at an event like this." His grip on the balcony tightened as he clenched with anger and turned his eyes away again.

"Look at me." She said, grabbing his face and pulling it back into her gaze. "You are more than what he made you out to be. You are a kind and loving brother and a good Sultan. No matter what he said to you as a dying old man." She let out a small laugh. "Hell, he wasn't even our real father." Osman nodded; she wasn't wrong. He was, after all, only his father figure, a role which he was, to say the least, not enthused to be in. But despite that, his words of hate still echoed within his mind. Haunting him and draining his will to live.

Emiri continued. "Tonight will be great; you'll get to have your first meeting with all the other monarchs there. And if you're lucky smooth things over with those Bergum pact people you always talk about."

Osman lifted an eyebrow. "Who, Alycia?"

"Sure." She remarked. "Her and the boy toy"

"Toby?" Osman smiled. "I've always liked the stories I've heard of him; I just hope he's like they say he is."

"Who knows." She shrugged. "Just be yourself and try your best to avoid the politics."

"I will." He replied, nodding. "So long as you remember to introduce yourself to our half-siblings when we see them."

"You already know how excited I am." She said, taking her arm off of Osman's back. "How does it feel knowing you are outnumbered by your sisters" She gave him a smile and a small but playful push.

Osman laughed, thinking about it. "I think it's better you ended up as a girl lest you'd like to end up like Uncle Nazar and get put in the snake pit."

"Hey!" She punched him. "Don't make fun of him; it wasn't his fault dad wanted him dead. And besides, you need to rework those fratricide laws cause they are really messed up."

Osman sighed and nodded. "I will put it on my list of dumb laws I must erase from existence."

"Like the law that allows execution via snake pit?" Emiri chuckled.

"Exactly like that," Osman replied, letting go of the balcony railing and walking into the hotel room.

"Will Emel be at the ceremony?" Emiri asked, following him inside.

"I don't know, Em; I just heard Gaiseric and Helbrandt were coming." He said, approaching his dresser and adorning his suit with a small enamel pin with the Aydini flag.

"That's fine; it'd be nice to see her, though." She said, checking her hair in the dresser's adjacent mirror. "And I miss her, you know."

"I know" Osman nodded. "I miss her too. But she is doing her duty, not only for her country but for her family."

Emiri gave a somber nod. "I know."

"We'll see her soon, hopefully." Osman made his way to the door, with Emiri close behind. "Once things are better."

Emiri looked her brother in the eyes. "When will that be?"

Osman stared right back, deep into her dark brown eyes. "I don't know, Em... I don't know." He shook his head and reached for the door handle. "I just hope it's soon for all our sakes." Emiri nodded as he turned the handle and opened the door. Walking out into the hallway and greeting the awaiting bodyguards outside.
 
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Weary-eyed and with a slumped back he stirred and climbed out of bed. Away, briskly to the bathroom. Then he could throw on his white robes and step out onto the balcony for a cigarette. He discretely plundered his luggage for that unopened pack of Yemelin Blue, zipping the case back up after he found it. The aged man with whitened hair and wrinkling skin threw on his robes and stepped out onto the balcony with his cigarette and a lighter.

It did take some wordplay to convince the National Sobirat to permit him a vacation such as this. Well, "vacation" was an inappropriate word to use. Officially, Sidorov was here as a means to an end. Arcanstotska could warm up to Alnaria and make a friend in Iteria. Making friends with Alnarian royalty would go a long way. Attending this wedding and representing the Second Republic would portray Arcanstotska as a potential friend of Alnaria. So no, this wasn't a vacation… but gods dammit all, he needed this vacation. He needed to be away from the politics and meetings of Siloyev. And above all, right here and now, he needed a damn smoke.

As he lit the end of the white paper, puffing the smoke, he felt at ease.

“Smoking again, Siddy?”

Well, there went all that ease. Sidorov sighed as he took the cigarette out of his mouth, unsure of what to say.

“I thought you told me you were going to stop smoking. The war’s been over for a year now. That’s what you agreed to.”

She was right, he had agreed to stop smoking after the Vaasan separatists were defeated. The war gave had given him so much stress and anxiety that he had relied on smoking to keep himself through it all. Ayla had demanded that he get off smoking after Rudolfhafen was liberated over a year ago.

“I’m going to quit, trust me,” was the first thing he had thought to say. To his credit, he wasn’t lying. “These things take time and patience and effort. I can’t just suddenly drop smoking. The withdrawal symptoms aren’t exactly something I’d like to put up with.”

Ayla sighed. “Regardless,” she moved to change the topic, realizing she couldn’t really argue with what Sidorov said. “Finish your smoke and get ready.” She switched over to Mercanti yet her accent still lingered. “We’ll be meeting the other guests today and I want us to look presentable.”

“Right,” Sidorov now switched to Mercanti. He hid his accent better than his wife. “I need to dig out my suit.”

“Make sure you leave your cigarettes here!” Ayla demanded, now back to speaking Arcanstotskan. “You’re not going to stink up this wedding with tobacco smoke!” She waved around one of his packs of Yemelin Blue.

“Alright, alright.” There was no arguing here. “No smoking, I promise.” She turned to gather her clothes. He rolled his eyes and threw on his suit. She put on her dress and touched up on cosmetics. The two departed from their quarters.

Damn, Sidorov wanted a smoke.
 
Armenalis

Royal Alnarian Palace

Kingdom of Alanaria

The sea wind was a welcome relief from the Iterian heat, Helbrandt had arrived with the rest of the Moot delegation only last night and was still adjusting to the change in the climate. Emel seemed less bothered by the new surroundings, her Aydini heritage making her far more accustomed to warm environs. They had been married for only a few months now but already a strange bond had solidified between them, her presence provoking familiar calm and her absence causing anxiety.

She was presently busy preparing her regalia for the coming ceremony, as both the wife of a senior chieftain and the daughter of a sultan she was permitted to bear both the fur cloak of a chieftain and the decorative coronet of an Aydini royal. Her makeup was equally impressive, dark red eyeshadow and pale face paint, accentuating her heart-shaped face and contrasting with the blues of her eyes.

Helbrandt watched the sun begin to set with a nonchalant stare, he was still fatigued from the long journey. He sat on the end of the bed, it had not been conducive to a peaceful sleep, the soft mattress, and pillows at odds with his steppe upbringing. The Dhole fur cloak that he almost never removed now rested on a nearby hanger, even Helbrandt had conceded in private when faced with the wrath of an Alnarian sun.

“You seem troubled,” Emel said gently even as she still intently focused on applying makeup

“Do I?” Helbrandt replied bluntly

“You turned enough in your sleep that I assumed a quake was occurring and you keep staring at your cloak as though you feel emasculated without it on your shoulders,” she said with a knowing smile

“Fine,” he said rubbing his temples with a weary hand “I admit it”

“Surely you have attended weddings before this one?” She asked in a matter-fact tone

“Never as Demi-chieftain of the Steppe and never beyond Essalanea” he replied in an uncertain voice

“When I was living in my father's house, I attended weddings and court ceremonies with such frequency that they all seemed to have blurred together in my memory, my entire early life was a carefully choreographed series of events where I was expected to stand in beautiful silence” Emel explained

Helbrandt frowned, noting the bitterness in Emel’s tone, he still felt awkward around her both because of their difference in age and because she seemed like a delicate flower that had been paired with a great beast. Even so, she had proven she was no wallflower in no uncertain terms, stepping out of her brother's shadow and living in a society where her voice was equal to her husband had revealed a woman who was both intelligent and insightful in ample measure.

“I was never meant to rule, my cousin Ulli always sought that mantle, I was content to be his general and lead his warriors in battle. I gave no thought to anything except the conflicts that raged endlessly on the steppe, now I am chieftain of the largest clan in Essalanea, I am expected to devote myself to ruling and to cast my gaze beyond the steppe and I have never been more unsure of my path” Helbrandt said uncomfortably

Emel set the brush down and rose from her chair, she seated herself next to her husband and placed her hand upon his. The difference in height and size was almost comical, Helbrandt was a hulking mass of muscle when compared to Emel’s slender form and yet now it was she who held the guiding role.

“When I arrived on the steppe, I knew nothing of your ways, I was even more uncertain than you are now, I felt as though my own family had sent me to die in a strange land, but you embraced me and treated me more as an equal than my father and brother ever had, perhaps now it's my turn,” Emel said with a reassuring smile

“You know that your brother is here, he will be at the ceremony tomorrow” Helbrandt replied his voice more like a question than a statement

“I know, I'm actually eager to see him, it's been nearly a year now,” she said calmly

“Even after everything he did?” Helbrandt replied suddenly betraying a hint of anger in his voice

He had been appalled by the sultans' actions, sending his own kin to a strange and by appearances hostile land. It wasn’t just the seeming betrayal by her family that bothered Helbrandt, it was the lack of any recognition of Emel as an autonomous being. In Essalanea the irony had always been that their collective survival relied upon everyone having a voice, the Aydini actions did not seem to make logical sense.

“He has good intentions Helbrandt, do not judge him too harshly if he had not sent me to the steppe...I would never have met you” she said smiling and placing a hand on his face

Helbrandt wondered how much the boy sultan could have actually changed in the year since the wedding. The Osman he had met was an uncertain and spoilt creature, some hints of ability but all buried beneath self-loathing, indulgence, and his father's abusive shadow. Helbrandt would reserve his judgment until he could look his “brother-in-law” in the eyes. Helbrandt rose from the bed and reached for his cloak, placing it on the floor and lowering himself onto it.

“What are you doing?” Emel asked surprised

“We have a long day tomorrow and I need to sleep properly tonight,” he said with a grin

“At least you won’t steal all the covers now,” Emel said with an amused sigh

Night soon darkened the room, the sun falling beneath the horizon and going to its far-off resting place. Emel lay awake, pondering the coming reunion with her family, the morning would come soon and it promised to be memorable.
 
Armenalis, Alnaria
Vaiai Rembra
At sunset

Jasemir wasn't in mood for parties, as always. Despite that, his mother had obliged him to attend as many parties as possible when he was a child and now being on parties would part of his royal duties. He was afraid that things would get messed up if he left his room or spoke to anyone else besides his family. Because of it, he decided to stay on his bed, looking at the ceiling of the room all day. That how his sister, Erianne, found the Emperor when she entered the room looking for him:

"Jasemir Partei Kladerai, I can't possibly believe that you are still locked up on this room, almost as if you're waiting for a funeral instead of a wedding!" she shouted after shutting the door so that nobody would hear their conversation. "Look, I know that parties aren't something you love and stuff but, you are the Emperor of Tardine! You shoulda be out there talking to the leaders of our friendly nations. Actually, get dressed, I am ordering you to do so!"

"You can't order me around and I don't wanna to leave this room until the wedding, sis." she kept throwing clothes onto him. "You know I am not used to talking to lots of people. You are better than me at this stuff..."

"I don't care whether or not I'm better, you are the Emperor, not me!" He starts to get dressed but is still with an amused look.

"You would actually make a perfect Empress, and everyone would love you. I'm nowhere as good as you." he is fully dressed now, but she is still unsatisfied with his appearance. "Ayo, stop with the trash talk and get going, big bro." she said while pushing him towards the door, at which he stared for awhile before opening it and leaving.

He couldn't oblige himself to do what his sister told him to, at which he just wandered by the heavily decorated corridors of the location, until he found a balcony with sea view. He kept staring at the calm sea waves, while the Sun was still setting down and didn't perceive the approaching man until he was right besides him:

Tobias Loðbrók leaned a bit as he looked out over the balcony.
"Look at me standing next to the Great Holy Royal Emperor of Tardine, Jasemir Partei Kladerai,” he said with a distinguishable Prydansk Mercanti accent and a friendly smile. Jasemir seemed startled.
"I'm sorry, did I scare you?" Tobias asked.

"King Tobias Loðbrók, from Prydania." He extended his hand towards the King, then started to speak on a fluent Prydanian. "I was just a bit startled, that's all. Also, you may call me Emperor Jasemir, if you'd like to. I shall address that, while I'm surprised you know the Tardineanni royal styles, I'm not used to such formalities."

Tobias was a bit shocked to hear Jasemir speak Prydanian.
"I must say that you speak Prydanian fluently. That's not common among Eastern leaders." Toby smiled at him while shaking his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Emperor Jasemir,” he said before looking back over the balcony at the view.
“I don’t really care for formalities if I can help it either.”
"Well, I can understand why you aren't used to it. How long have you been here, may I know?
Toby pondered before answering.
“It's been a few hours since I arrived. What about you?

"I arrived this morning,” Jasemir said
“However, I have a question about your accent. The way you speak, is almost like a...
Toby switched to Mercanti again to interrupt him. “Almost like a farmer? Yeah. Most people who can’t speak Prydansk don’t notice,” he said with a smile.
“But I grew up in Austurland,” he shrugged. “And picked up the accent when I was young.”

"I didn't mean to upset you. I was just curious about it." Jasemir said on Mercanti, fearing that Tobias would get angry at him, meaning he would've messed up with the whole Kingdom of Prydania. "I am really sorry if I touched a sensitive spot of yours."

"It's not like that,” Tobias replied, chuckling. “I was just amused that you actually noticed my accent in Prydansk! Most foreigners don’t! I’m grateful though, that you didn’t pick on my Mercanti accent."

At this remark, Jasemir not only smiled, but laughed for the first time in the day, maybe it was even the first time he laughed on the month. "Hahaha, do you think you have a bad Mercanti accent? Look, your accent is the normal accent of anyone who doesn't has Mercanti as main language." Jasemir laughed so hard he was actually crying and Toby laughed as well. "Listen, you don't need to have a perfect Mercanti to be a good ruler. Always keep this on mind

"Thanks for the advice, Jasemir. Though, I do have a question for you." The Emperor looks weary at him. "Why don't you smile anymore? I always saw you smiling on the television, but you looked sad right now."

"I will tell you a secret: I've never had a real reason to smile." Said Jasemir smiling sadly. "However, to keep the Empire strong, their Emperor must look strong, even if he's being teared up from inside. And that's another advice for you: never look weak, or else your nation's enemies will have a reason to launch themselves against not only you, but the whole Prydania as well."
"That'…somber,” Tobias replied, but shrugged.
“It seems to be good advice though." By then, Alycia arrived at the balcony. "I was searching for you, Toby. Oh, you must be Tardine's Emperor, Jasemir, am I right?

"Yes, Queen Alycia. I was talking to your husband here." Said Jasemir with a smile, a real one. "Anyways, I will leave you two lovebirds alone. I don't wanna be the fly in your honey.*"

"Well, see you later, Emperor Jasemir." Tobias said happily while holding his wife's hand. "Pleased to meet you. I hope that we talk to each other again soon."

"I hope that as well, King Tobias." Saying that with happiness in his heart, Jasemir left them alone. They didn't know but they've made his day be a lot better. His eternal sadness was replaced, even if it was for a little bit, by a good feeling of being truly appreciated by someone. What a wonderful couple he found

Perhaps these days on Alnaria wouldn't be terrible as he thought initially. Maybe he could make real friends for once. This single thought warmed up his heart, while he was walking towards his room again. He wouldn't miss the opportunity life gave to him.


*Be a fly on the honey - Tardine's idiom for being a pain in the ass or, in this context, be disturbing someone with their presence.
 
Augustus and Beatrix were getting ready in their room. The long flight from Auroria, and then the ride to the Vaiai Rembara was full of excitement about the event. Augustus was putting on his suit and he prepared to go to the party where the other monarchs were located. He thought about how if this event was back home it would be customary to wear a toga.

“Auggi, who all will be here?” Beatrix chimed in as she was putting on earrings.

“Tobias and Alicia, Jasemir from Tardine, let’s avoid him. Siderov from Arcanstoska, I’d like to talk to him about trying to mend the animosity. The boy Sultan, Esselanians too. I don’t know them but who knows how they’ll be. I don’t much care to speak to the sultan, he’s too pompous for me.” Augustus responded without looking up from his tie.

“Well maybe you and Tobias can talk about sports or something. Do you know anything about this Siderov guy from Arcanstoska?” Beatrix said as she walked behind Augustus, putting her hand on his back and kissing his cheek.

“No, but this stupid feud between our nations has to end. We can’t blame them for Palmyra still.” The Imperator looked up and at himself in the mirror. He buttoned his suit jacket, and motioned to the door.

“Shall we my sweet?”

“Let’s go my lord.”
 
Armenalis, Alnaria
Vaiai Rembra

“Man, these beds are cushy,” Timothée-Brice gushed as he half-bobbed, half-sat down on the bed at the luxurious suite at the seaside Vaiai Rembra. Timothée then threw off his blue blazer to the foot of the bed as he let himself fall backwards, bouncing a bit as his back hit the soft mattress.

“Wow, the Princes of Saintonge never had cushy beds?” their maternal cousin and titular Lord Protector, Kilian-Brice “Kyle” of Bavière, jested sarcastically.

“You know how cushy our beds are, Kyle,” Thibault-Maximilian answered, pushing his fist onto Timothée’s bed to see how supple it really was. One of the corners of Thibault’s mouth rose up in the twins’ trademark smirky grin. “You liked our cushy beds so much, you insisted on sleeping on our room when we were children!”

The three laughed, remembering the times when they had sleepovers in the Royal Palace when they were way younger. They used to jump on the large soft bed at the Amber Guestroom of the Royal Palace. The three boys would then huddle and sleep on the big bed afterwards, exhausted from all the horsing around. That big bed was better than their small children’s beds, where they slept alone.

Timothée-Brice and Thibault-Maximilian, identical twins, treated their cousin Kilian-Brice of Bavière like their own brother. All three young men were of the same age; Kyle, like the twins, was the eldest son. Kyle was the son of Duke Ulrich VI of Bavière, the elder brother of the twins’ mother, Queen Mélisende of Saintonge. It was thus natural that Kyle would become the Lord Protector, a ceremonial position that, in the olden days, was given to a young noble who would grow up with the heir apparent to the Santonian throne. It meant that the Lord Protector would have the trust and loyalty to the future Santonian king. Nowadays, the role of the Lord Protector was to be a playmate and schoolmate for the heir apparent, no protecting needed. The protecting was the role of the agents of the Santonian Royal Guard… which the Lord Protector is the ceremonial head too.

Kyle somewhat takes his role seriously, aside from being the Lord Protector, he was also the heir apparent to the large southern Duchy of Bavière. He seemed like a counterpoint to the twins, who tended to be very informal in private. He came to Alnaria in a suit and tie, which meant that he was mistaken for being the Prince of Saintonge by some of the hotel staff. In contrast, the twins were dressed simply – Timothée was sporting a red T-shirt of the Santonian National Ice Hockey Team while Thibault was wearing a blue T-shirt from the Royal Institute of Aeronautics and Space, where he was currently studying. To look a bit presentable, the twins wore dinner jackets over their shirts, which they promptly discarded once in the privacy of the hotel room.

“And now we’ll be sleeping in the same room again,” Timothée grinned, his smile being the mirror-image of Thibault’s. He raised his arms above his shoulders and rested the back of his head on his hands. “Say, Kyle, do you remember our rowdy sleepovers?”

“No shenanigans allowed, T-Mo,” Kyle replied facetiously. “We’re in another country, and you’re a representative of Saintonge.”

“But – ” Timothée started to protest jokingly, but Kyle glared at him.

“And you’re a medical student too, so stop it, future Doctor Timothée of Saintonge,” Kyle retorted, placing special emphasis on the last five words. Now that they have grown up, Kyle and the twins no longer physically horse around like little boys, they just rib each other. “Do they allow that kind of outfit in medical school?” Kyle added.

“No,” Timothée frowned. He then sat back up on the bed. “They make us wear uniforms… white uniforms.”

Thibault let out a chuckle as he suppressed a laugh.

“That’s why I want to wear street clothes whenever I can,” Timothée said.

His twin brother, standing behind him, spied the back of the shirt. “Number 59, Kylefjord? Prydanian?”

“Oui,” Timothée confirmed. “Finnbjörn Kylefjord, alternate captain of the Santonian National Ice Hockey Team.”

“I think we met him once,” Thibault commented.

“Yeah, we did.”

“Speaking of Prydanians,” Kyle said to the twins, “you said you were going to introduce me to your distant cousin Toby?”

“YES!” Thibault said. “He’s going to be here at the wedding.”

“He’s a cool dude,” Timothée added.

“I’ve never heard the phrase ‘cool dude’ applied to a monarch before,” Kyle chuckled.

“Watch us,” Timothée chortled as he formed a ‘V’ with the forefinger and middle finger of his right hand, then pointed it at his eyes and then towards Kyle, making the popular ‘watch me’ gesture. “We’ll be the Cool Dudes Kings of Saintonge.”

“I doubt it,” Kyle joshed his cousins.

Their banter was interrupted by a knock on the door. Kyle opened the door and saw Santonian Foreign Affairs Minister Marcelline Tréhet. “Hello… I heard Your Highnesses are having a really good time,” she smiled and then noticed the future kings of Saintonge in their getup. “I was told that we need to be there in three hours or so, so Your Highnesses would have two hours to prepare.” Her tone was deliberate, implying in a subtle way that the Princes of Saintonge needed a costume change.

Timothée stood up quickly like a soldier being roused from bed. “Yes, ma’am, we’ll be ready in time.”

Ms Tréhet chuckled. She was being “ma’am-ed” by a future king of Saintonge.
 
Armenalis, the Golden City
The Royal Palace

Sunrise and Sunset in Armenalis were special times for its residents. The City itself had no overwhelming presence of gold on its buildings, but during twilight it shone with a dull luster worthy of its name. The Royal Palace sits on the city's shoreside, its Sunrise Balconies face the sea, while its sunset balcony presides over the city. The sunset balcony was of favorite of the Prince, most nights he felt as if he could feel the city unwind and relax into its evenings. Tonight was not most nights however, as he and Vivika watched the city below.

"How many people will be there?" Vivika asked with a pout, arms draped over the balcony railing.

"Well, its more of a 'how many are there' because they're already here." Nurendir replied.

Vivika gave a grunt. "Already here?"

"Yep, by all accounts they're raising hell over at the Vaiai Rembra." He replied.

"I have a hard time believing a bunch of pampered unhorsed dignitaries are capable of raising hell." She said picking herself up.

"Trust me, you'd be shocked to see a public official change back into who they really are when the cameras come off them for a few minutes." Nurendir said, joining her at the railing. "But they're not all bad."

Vivika frowned. "That's not exactly high praise."

Nurendir gave a laugh. "I know, but you'll see." He said, placing his hand on hers. "I know this is not what you're used to, thank you for doing this."

Vivika cracked a smile. "Well...you're welcome, and don't forget its not entirely your way." She said turning away and pacing down the balcony.

Nurendir let out a deep breath. "We're really doing the Messung?"

"Not we." She said. "You, and speaking of that do you have your clansmen picked out to fight with you?" Whipping around she continued. "And we still have the rights of the Steppe."

"Yes yes yes, its all ready. Two cousins, one uncle and some of my old brothers and sisters in arms." He said. "Should be a good time."

"Good, make us proud." She said.

"Oh so its 'you' when the fighting happens, but 'us' when the glory comes?" He said with a laugh.

"Of course." She replied. "What's yours is mine right?"

"Is that the case on the Steppe?" Nurendir asked.

"No." She replied. " But it is in Alnaria."
 
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Armenalis, Alnaria
Vaiai Rembra

Tobias and Alycia entered the hotel's bar. The security detail that crawled over this place was a bit hard to ignore, but at least here in this space, there was a degree of freedom.

"It's not too bad, is it?" Tobias asked as he looked around the Vaiai Rembra's bar.

"You and your greenery," Alycia replied with a smile. She was teasing her husband but the truth was better here then the Hwesta.

They were both dressed lightly, a casual formality one could say, though Alycia's own outfit still had a bit more flourish with Imperial Norsian navy and gold stylings. Tobias' white cotton button down shirt and khakis left little indication of his royal rank. The only sign of that was a golden stag head lapel. Apparently it had belonged to his grandfather.

"Drinks maybe?" Alycia asked and Tobias nodded walking about a step behind his wife casually before stopping.

"Hey, hang on a moment."

"What is it?" Alycia asked before Tobias grabbed her gently and made the first move of a traditional Prydanian folk dance.

"You remember this?" he asked with a smile as he began to dance with her. She began to laugh softly. It was the first dance they shared. When they first realized how they felt for each other.
Alycia followed the dance, but offered an observation.

"There's no music."

Tobias grinned and began to hum the old Prydanian Midland tune that soldiers had turned into the song Marching Through Hadden as he and his wife danced. They didn't finish the song though, with Alycia turning one of the twirls into an excuse to head to the bar.

"I'm sure we'll have time for dancing later," she commented as Tobias looked around some more as he followed her to the bar.

"What will you have love?" she asked.

"Whisky, please," Tobias answered. Alnaria and Prydania both had whisky. And he'd grown to like the distinct taste it had.

Alycia sipped her wine as Tobias led them to a comfortable looking couch next to some other comfortable looking seats and a table. He sipped his drink a bit as Alycia sat next to him.

"What's the difference between whisky here and in Prydania?" she asked.

"It's sweeter here, and also has some spice," Tobias replied.
"Back home it's a drier taste."

"And that has to do with the barrels," Alycia said.

"Já," Tobias replied with a nod.
"We have different types of oak trees to make barrels from. The different wood gives different flavours."

"Do you like Alnarian whisky better?" she asked teasingly.

"Oh no Prydanian is going to say 'já' to that," he laughed.

"That's not a 'no,'" she teased.
"I know you like sweet things."

"You could make the most bitter drink sweet," Tobias said with a grin as he cherished this moment he had with his wife.

"You're too cute. I hope you remembered to stay that nice when others get here."

"Of course," he replied with a smile.
He raised his glass and sipped clanged it against his wife's.

"Na Zdravi," she said with a gleam in her eye.

"Ralt," Tobias replied. Smiling as well.
 
Osman and Emiri followed a trail of guests into the hotel’s seemingly bustling bar. The pair watched as dignitaries and other patrons moved in and out of the crowded space. Osman looked to the bar, to his trailing bodyguards, and then to his sister.

“I’m going to go for a drink,” He said, adjusting his tie. “You can come if you’d like.” Osman gave her a smirk, and Emiri rolled her eyes.

“You know I don’t drink, and even if I did I would need twenty bottles of rum so I wouldn’t have to listen to whatever you think an interesting conversation is.” She laughed, leaning in close so only he could hear her, “I’m going to try and find our sisters.”

Osman nodded, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder “Good, I’ll be off then.” He began to walk amidst the crowd trying to make his way to the bar. Slipping between and around conversating dignitaries, flirting patrons, and quiet minders watching as it all unfolded. Finally reaching the bar, he gestured to the bartender.

“Three fingers of bourbon please,” The bartender nodded and Osman turned around, leaning against the bar. Surveying the room he spotted two people sitting in leather armchairs. One with a mop of dirty blonde hair, the other a long head of dark brown hair. Both were seemingly flirting with the other, they were dressed fine yet casually. He knew exactly who they were. Turning around to the bartender, who was in the midst of making his drink. Osman changed his order.

“Actually, make that five fingers of bourbon and a shot of Raki.” The bartender smiled and nodded. Adding more bourbon he put the glass on the bar and retrieved the Raki which he quickly poured into a waiting shot glass. Osman picked up the shot glass.

“To the death of nerves.” He said quickly, taking the shot, and placing the glass back on the bar. He grabbed the almost full glass of bourbon and took a small sip, hoping to avoid it spilling. It burned as it went down but it gave him the boost he needed as he began to approach the sitting pair.



Tobias sipped his whisky slowly. Prydanian whiskey made sipping easy. Alnarian whiskey almost made you want to drink the stuff normally. Even the burning in your throat wasn't a deterrent if you had the tolerance to it. And he did.
So he was mindful to sip it slowly.

“Do you find it concerning that our song is a war song?” Alycia asked.

“I would,” Tobias replied, “except I married a Norsian. Seems appropriate enough,” he said with a smile.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Alycia asked, putting on a faux offended tone.

“Just that my ancestors were vikings and they said ‘nope’ after tangling with Norsians a few times,” Tobias said with a quiet chuckle.

Alycia laughed as Tobias caught sight of Osman approaching. He thought to say something to Alycia but he was too close to not notice something like that. Tobias had never met him before, but Osman’s reputation preceded him. Still, he smiled and raised his glass in a friendly manner.

Osman raised his glass in return, approaching the two with a friendly smile plastered on his face.

“As-salamu alaykum* your Majesties!” He extended his hand to Tobias. “If I assume correctly, you are King Tobias of Prydania, right?”

Tobias smiled and nodded, shaking his hand and motioning to a seat close by.
“I am,” he said, staying pleasant.
“And this is my wife, Empress Alycia.”

Tobias knew, or thought he knew, about the tendency of the Sultans of Aydin to have harems. He wasn't sure exactly about Osman’s view of women. Alycia could certainly stand up for herself, but he felt compelled to make it known he would stand by her.
He otherwise, however, stayed pleasant.

“And you must be Osman of Aydin,” Tobias said as Osman sat.
“Congratulations. This is a wedding for one of your in-laws, já?”

The pairing of Osman’s sister and an Essalanean clan leader was an odd one on the surface until you realized it was arranged. Osman just shipped her off. As much as it was distasteful to both Alycia and himself it seemed proper to try and put a positive view on it. Tobias would have been worried about Emel. He knew first hand how rough Essalanea could be. But it was that familiarity with them that told him she was, at the very least, in good hands. Helbrandt was a good man.

Osman gave a large smile, silently exhilarated that the great warrior King recognized him.

“Yes, my sister and I are very happy to be here. And we’ve actually brought some gifts with us as well.” Osman took a seat across from the two monarchs.
“How are the both of you holding up? I know the weather here is probably a bit different from what you’re used to.”

Tobias looked over at Alycia and smiled and then back at Osman.
“It’s a bit weird to dress for sun and warmth in November,” he said as he sipped his whisky.
“But it’s exciting in a way. Alnaria is the country of sunny green hills in my country.”
He didn’t say anything about Osman’s choice of words. He’d said “my sister and I,” yet both his sisters were here. He didn’t want to say anything, but he wondered if it was an Aydini cultural thing. He didn’t know much about Aydin aside from what he’d heard.

He looked at the glass Osman was holding.
“Bourbon?” he asked.
“In Prydania they say that if your glass is four fingers you’re trying to work yourself up to either kill someone or to find someone. I’m going to guess you’re not going to kill anyone here, so who are you looking for?”

OOC Note: Post was co-written by myself and @Greater Ale Permars
 
Armenalis, the Golden City
The Royal Palace
The Day of the Wedding

The Royal Palace of Armenalis is a strange building. Allegedly built in the style of the original Nurlinorians, although there are none who can testify to it, and no records speak of the lost homeland in detail. The main hall is a colonnade open to the elements on all four sides. The Throne of Alnaria sits in the east of the hall with its back to the sea, and eyes to the city. Above the throne is a mosaic window that splits the sunlight into crystal patterns of color throughout the hall. Two open breezeways run north and south to the Private Quarters and Offices of the Household Ministry respectivly. The Grand Hall had seen thousands of weddings, each one carefully choreographed, with the pomp and circumstance due to Royalty; today however as different. Within the normally picturesque lines of white wedding chairs was a circle, filled with sand and surrounded by a low fence carved with the Silver Sun of Alnaria on the south posts and the beast sigil of the Essalanean clans on the north posts. The assembled delegates shuffled awkwardly around it as they took their seats, with a giddy few understanding what was about to happen.

The idle chatter and confused murmuring died down as King Fenris, Father of the Groom and Anegrette of Essalanae, mother of bride took to the altar.

" Dear friends, I would welcome you to the wedding of my son Prince Nurendir to the Lady Vivika of the Kimbri but it would seem the match is not yet favored in the Eyes of Ziu."

"In the custom of the Steppe, Nurendir must prove himself worthy of Vivika." Anegrette continued. "Let the challenger present himself."

The reaction from the assembled guests was mixed as Nurendir and company stepped into the ring from the south of hall, all in Alnarian Military duty uniform. Some gasped, several laughed in disbelief and the few random scholars of the Steppe in attendance let out loud cheers. The noise died though as the Essalanean clansmen came out, Gaiseric and Herg at the front. The Messung had begun.
 
Armenalis, Alnaria
The Royal Palace
Wedding Day


Nothing that Jasemir has read in his books about this strange ritual could prepare him for the real thing. He was startled for a second, then put in a neutral face, in hopes that nobody noticed that. However, many other guests were not as nice as him. Some laughed at the soon-to-be married couple, while others just gasped in disbelief.

"They don't understand the consequences of their actions. This ritual seems important to them", Jasemir pondered while looking for his sister. "Where's the Princess when we need her help?" He then sent someone to look for Erianne, as he was concerned. She'd never pass up the opportunity to see a wedding close at hand. She'd always dreamed of marrying her boyfriend and things looked great for both of them. Their relationship was flowing like a river, fast and sturdy.

When the guard returned with information, Jasemir only got more concerned. She told him that Erianne was in the bathroom and was not feeling well*. "Perhaps it was something I've eaten. Don't you dare to worry about me, brother. Focus on your task", was the message she'd sent him. It was hard to focus without his sister's aid, though. She was his safehouse when he didn't know what to do.

Jasemir searched for a friendly face across the room during a few painful moments, when his eyes landed on Toby's. The Prydansk King noticed the panicking Jasemir and gave him a thumbs up with a smile. Jasemir smiled back, much calmer now than before, and finally was able to focus on something other than his own anxiety. He firmly grabbed the armchairs and forced himself to look directly at the center of the room. After all, it wouldn't look good for Tardine if their leader wasn't able to sit in a freaking chair and watch a simple mock battle.

Let the ritual begin.


*By then Erianne Kladerai was already pregnant.
**Written with @Prydania 's approval
 
Armenalis, Alnaria
The Royal Palace
Wedding Day


Drums pounded and horns blared as the formerly tranquil halls of Armenalis ever so briefly took on the anarchic nature of the Essalanean steppe, A crowd of rowdy bondsmen parted to allow the bride's champions to enter. The Essalaneans were an impassioned rabble as the festivities began, the crowd busied itself vacillating between raucous approval for the participants and jeers directed at whoever was considered worthy of them, the unhorsed that surrounded the smaller clan gathering watched with a bewildered mix of fascination and deep discomfort. High King Gaiseric Volkmann and High Chief Helbrandt Karg stepped forward, Gaiseric was dressed in a plain tunic and breeches with knee-high riding boots and his trademark wolf fur cloak, Helbrandt was far less conservatively dressed.

The lord of the Karg had embraced his role as the heel in the theatrics of the Messung, he was bare-chested save for a leather harness and a pair of shorts, and his upper body was covered in red warpaint that swirled and danced across corded muscle, atop his head he wore the skull of a wild dog, the beasts still attached fur draped down the back as an improvised hat and cloak. Like Gaiseric he carried a stave of hardened iron that had been wrapped in layers of fabric and leather to cushion the blows, he held his aloft and it resembled a child's toy when compared with his immense size. Helbrant stalked the edge of the improvised ringen*, playing to the crowd as he egged on their wild cheers by roaring his challenges and mock insults.

"The little prince has come to claim his woman! let's see if he can still stand at the end!" Helbrandt bellowed, his thuggish role played to perfection

Gaiseric remained silent, his role was adversarial but far less overt than the clear antagonism of the heel, as Vivika's eldest living male relative it fell to the Essalanean king to judge her choice of mate and appraise his worth. Where Helbrandt would test the young prince physically it would be Gaiseric who made a decision regarding Nurendir's soul and intent. Gaiseric signaled to Nurendir that all would be well with a subtle wink of his right eye, the two men had met before and Gaiseric knew well that the prince would not fail in his trial.

The festive atmosphere went deathly silent as a figure entered the hall, men and women who had moments early been roaring and cajoling now bowed their heads in deep reverence, the chief shaman to the god of the steppe had entered the hall. Drescher Rugen leaned heavily on his walking stick with his sole remaining hand, the right having been ritually severed in emulation of Ziu long ago, the ancient priest seemed frail and sickly as he made a slow but determined passage to the waiting champions in the ringen. It was an ironic contrast, the wild folk of the steppe were lulled into devoted silence by one wizened old man, but this was no ordinary man, this one spoke with Ziu's voice.

"Kinsfolk and friends! this is an auspicious day for both Essalanea and Alnaria! two nations separated by vast oceans of culture, time, and literal sea are now united in spirit by the love shared between Prince Nurendir and Princess Vivika! however, we of the steppe know that action is always greater proof than mere words! It is our tradition that the groom proves his worthiness to take the bride as his companion, let this claimant show his devotion by proving he has the mettle to protect that which he covets! Let him be given the scars of this test that he might bear them for all to see what he is willing to sacrifice for his beloved! Let the Messung begin!" Drescher declared in a booming voice

The drums hammered rhythmically as the crowd began to chant as one, a single word was repeated again and again, Helbrandt began to circle Nurendir like a predatory beast toying with his next kill

messung!
Messung!!
MESSUNG!!

The chant was a droning intonation and it grew louder and more urgent with each passing utterance.

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"Let's give them a good show eh prince!?" Helbrandt said in a boisterous tone, giving a quick wink before stepping forward and letting out an ear-splitting roar

Helbrandt lunged at the prince his stave smashing into Nurendir's with a heavy thump, Nurendir had to dig his legs in to avoid being pushed back. The chieftain was like a battering ram, his every swing threatened to crush and pulverize in equal measure, Nurendir felt himself getting pushed further and further toward the edge of the Ringen. He cast his mind back to the martial lessons of his youth, he knew he could not match Helbrandts strength...but perhaps he didn't have to, he just needed to not be the endpoint of its journey.

Helbrandt let out another battle cry and raising his stave high above his head brought it down upon the prince, Nurendir simply stepped to the side and with a deft kick to the backside, sent Helbrant tumbling forward. The Karg crashed into the floor before stumbling to his feet, he was now red-faced and enraged, Helbrandt roared and tried to tackle the prince, but once again Nurendir stepped to the side and hooked his stave underneath the Karg's legs, pulling the ground from under him. Helbrandt crashed to the ground and lay there for a moment, stunned and grumbling, Nurendir poked him with the stave and gave him a knowing grin.

"do you yield?" Nurendir asked

Helbrandt spat blood from his lips and nodded in approval before laying back and letting out an amused chuckle, Nurendir was about to say something when he felt a tap on his shoulder, he turned to see Gaiseric standing behind him with stave raised in a warrior stance. The High King was now bear-chested, his mauled shoulder visible for the world to see, and scar tissue rippled across his left shoulder, here was a man who had earned his crown at the cost of his body. Gaiseric regarded the fallen Karg chieftain with an amused look, Nurendir decided to pre-empt an attack and took the initiative, lunging at the High King.

Gaiseric met the prince's lunge with a skilled parry, knocking the prince off balance, before Nurendir could react he felt the business end of a stave smack into his ribs and knock him to the floor, Gaiseric pulled back allowing Nurendir a chance to rise. The prince groaned and pulled himself up, the pain was stinging but nothing worse than any of his sparring sessions with the court trainers, Nurendir assumed a defensive stance and circled the Volkmann king on cautious steps. Gaiseric was calm, not a font of pure rage like Helbrandt, his style mirrored his personality, calm and calculating. Nurendir had no doubts that Gaiseric had been studying his movements with an appraising eye whilst he fought the Karg, learning like a good student.

Nurendir decided that he needed to cripple his opponent, a strike to the obviously weakened shoulder would end things in short order, so he decided to try a feint. Moving into a slashing motion, Nurendir struck out with his false attack, to his shock Gaiseric didn't move to parry, instead lashing out with a vicious strike to his abdomen before following up with a well-placed kick to the prince's jaw. Nurendir slammed onto the floor with a dizzying motion, gasps from the crowd filled the air as he struggled to regain composure, he felt a tap on his shoulder. For the first time in many years, Nurendir felt genuine fear, what if he lost? would they deny him Vivika's hand? NO! he refused to even consider the notion, he would fight till bruised and bloodied if need be. Flipping onto his back, Nurendir raised his stave in a parry, Gaiseric nodded approvingly and tossed his stave aside, signaling the end of the Messung. Nurendir eyed Gaiseric with a confused expression.

"Enough horseplay! here is a man who even with the stuffing knocked out him won't surrender, a worthy husband indeed!" Gaiseric declared as he reached down and hauled the prince to his feet

Cheers filled the hall as the crowd reveled in the spectacle, Helbrandt strode over and patted the young prince on the back in a brotherly gesture, and horns of ale were brought forth as the mad flurry of a minor battle was replaced by the wild excitement of a wedding day celebration. The High Priest raised Nurendirs right hand in ritual blessing and then the old man snatched a horn from the server and clinked it against the princes before downing the entire thing in one smooth motion. The Drescher belched loudly before wiping his mouth and raising his singular hand in a gesture of silence.

"He is worthy! Let the wedding commence with the blessing of Ziu and Essalan!!! and someone bring more ale, these old bones need warming!!!" the high priest declared in a booming and jovial voice






*Traditional Essalanean wrestling ring, usually a circle with a boundary marked by heavy stones
 
Armenalis, Alnaria
The Royal Palace
Wedding Day

The revels of the Essalanean's stood in stark contrast to the stunned expressions of the assembled wedding guests. The few reporters present scribbled furiously while the younger guests took to social media, even the fabled "young royals groupchat" was a flurry. As Herg and Helbrandt did their best to tempt people into a horn a mead from the steppe, few noticed that the groom and his party has disappeared. Nurendir had been stolen away by Fenris and Gaiseric to clean up for the Alnarian portion of the ceremony. Now back in the Royal apartments his fathers helped him with the finishing touches of his ceremonial Silver and Black uniform.

"You clean up alright son." Fenris said with his signature smirk. "Dad I wear this all the time. I think I've worn this like several times even in the last two months." Nurendir replied. "Yeah sure, but that doesn't mean you always look good in it." Fenris said slyly. "Glad to know I can always count on you for honesty old man." Nurendir said with a laugh. "Always." His father repeated as he finished affixing a broach of the Silver Sun of Alnaria to Nurendir's left shoulder. "Alright that should do it." Said the King. "You're up Gaiseric." The King of the Steppe carefully unwrapped a wolf pelt, cut as a cape. "From Vivika." He said, attaching it to the broach. Before taking a step back to take a look at his son-in-law to be Gaiseric gave the Prince one more quick hit to the ribs for good measure. "They all still intact?" He asked with a laugh. "Maybe not anymore." Nurendir said through gritted teeth. The two Kings looked over the Prince, admiring their handywork. "We're so proud of you Son." Fenris said, embracing his son. "We'll be waiting for strong grandchildren." Gaiseric said walking back out in to the colonnade.

Across the Palace, in the south terrace Vivika was likewise preparing herself, although in solitude as she had managed to slip through a window and evade Anegrette. She had never been comfortable in the Palace and today least of all, knowing the eyes of thousands of strangers would be upon her soon. "A stupid custom." She thought to herself as she clutched the matrimonial knife she was to present to her groom. She had spent weeks honing the blade to perfection as it was the only thing keep her mind off the wedding. Mercifully though, the tempest of her mind was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. "Need a drink?" the voice of a Woman said from the windowsill above her. To Vivika's surprise Nurendir's mother Queen Galendra stepped through the window and out onto the terrace and produced a small flask. "You know I jumped out this same window the day I married Fenris." She said with a giggle. "I..what?" Vivika began. "Oh yes, it's actually something of a tradition for brides to be to jump out this window it seems." She gestured to a stone on the wall with scribbled nothings all over it. "No doubt from generations of woman arranged to marry this or that Valarun lordling. One of the Palace's many secrets." She said lifting her fingers to her mouth as to shush. "I added my own mark nearly 40 years ago now. Gods I'm so old." She said with a laugh. "Well anyway, all I can tell you is to say what you feel and what the naysayers think be damned. I'll leave this with you." She said dropping the flask before gracefully returning through the window. "What on earth was that" Vivika though to herself, now strangely motivated. She downed the flask and followed through the window. "This can't possibly be worse than anything I've faced already."

Fuck I was wrong She thought as she approached the aisle. She had witnessed the Messung but somehow failed to notice the hundreds of guests. "Vivika of Clan Kimbri of Essalanea!" The herald shouted. At the aisle's beginning Gaiseric was to walk with her. On the Alter was Nurendir and his men, sisters of the Kimbri, Fenris, Galendra, and Angerette stood as well in the Alnarian custom. The music began and the King of the Steppe took her arm. As they walked Gaiseric whispered in her ear "Last chance, we can still unsheathe that blade and fight our way out of here." Vivika stifled a laugh. "Not today, but give it a month and we'll see if a rescue is needed." Gaiseric smiled and brought her onto the alter. He pressed his forehead to hers before leaving to join Angerrete. She took her place across from her groom. Gripping the blade more tightly than ever.

"Beloved friends and guests, we are here today in the light of the gods of Alnaria and Ziu of the Steppe, stripped of rank and stature before their glory. Today is not a wedding of Royalty, but a wedding of people." Drescher Rugen stamped his ceremonial staff in approval of the words. The Cleric gave a bow and continued. "Today we celebrate the union and love of Nurendir and Vivika in what they have both requested to be an abbreviated service." The Cleric said with a laugh as chuckling went through the audience. "So all I will say is this. Nurendir, what do you vow to your wife?" Nurendir stepped forward and took her hands. "I vow that our life will never be boring." He said with smile; prompting a significant eyeroll from Vivika. "...and no matter what danger or challenge comes I will always be at your back." With those words he slid the ring upon her finger and attached a broach of her own Silver Sun to wedding garb. "Vivika, what will you vow to your husband?" "I vow to be at your back as well, through whatever trouble you get us into." Another laugh went through the audience as the smile widen on Nurendir's face. "I don't know what else to say but I love you." She said putting the ring on his finger and presenting him with the matrimonial blade. "May you use this to cut free our children from the cord after birth or end my suffering should the worst come." Most in the great hall were taken by surprise by Vivika's words but Drescher had the forethought to warn the Alnarian Cleric. Before anyone could dwell to long on the though the cleric exclaimed "Then in the light of all the gods of Alnaria and of Ziu of the Steppe, I pronounce you Man and Wife! You may kiss the bride!

As the new couple embraced they both felt relaxation return to them. The hard part was over. Now came the party.
 
Tobias had watched the show of Nurendir proving himself in the Essalanean tradition with curiosity more than shock. He knew the Essalaneans well enough that shock wasn't a concern.

And as he watched he discreetly pulled his phone from jacket pocket to join in on the Young Royals Twitcher group chat when Alycia gently slapped his hand.

Tobias raised an eyebrow and gave her a chuckle and she shot him a playful look and he got the message, slipping the phone back into its pocket.

"You think he'll win?" Alycia asked.

Tobias chuckled softly.
"Nurendir cut whiskey with brennivín," he replied.

"Isn't brennivín... I mean, it's got a higher alcohol content?"

"Já," Tobias replied, still chuckling at the memory of that.
"He didn't know that though! But he's still alive after that so I think he might be unkillable."



The ceremony was over and the party rolled on. Speeches from family members had given way to toasts, and that had given way the all-encompassing sound of music and chatter.

"What did you end up giving them as a gift To-B?" Thibault-Maximilian, one of the Crown Princes of Saintonge asked Tobias and Alycia. The Prydanian, Santonian, and Silean guests were at the same table at the party.

"Horses!" Alycia replied with a smile.
"One for Nurendir and one for Vivika."

"Horses?" Kilian-Brice “Kyle” of Bavière asked.

"Já!" Tobias replied excitedly.
"A Prydanian breed from me for Nur, and Aly got Vivika a Norsian Warmblood."

"If the horses end up hitched they'll have REALLY sturdy babies," Rylond said as he sipped champaign.

"We figured," Alycia added, "that the Alnarians and Essalaneans both like horses."

"Seemed like good enough reasoning to me," Tobias added with a shrug.
"I wanted to get them football jerseys."

"You can't give everyone a football jersey for every gift!" Alycia said faux-scolding him.

"Why not?"

"You're terrible at giving gifts," she added.

Tobias gave her a playful exacerbated look. It was true though! Back when he was growing up he and his friends didn't have anything... gift giving was being able to see your friend alive again.
It had left him woefully unprepared for the world of celebratory gift giving. Thankfully Alycia was there to drag him to a good idea.

Speaking of his childhood friends...

"If you'll all excuse me, I'm going to try out my Essalanean 'language' skills," Rylond said as he stood up, eyeing a group of Essalanean women across the party.

"Have fun," Tobias replied.
"Please don't die."

"He just might you know," Alycia said as she watched Rylond walk off.

"Imagine if he manages to land one though. I'd love to see him try and prove himself against an Essalanean warrior," Tobias mused.

The party continued on as people chatted and mingled. Tobias found himself sipping some Alnarian whiskey by the bar, when he looked over. He caught sight of Alycia at their table, chatting away and he smiled.

The wedding was truly beautiful. And it felt good to watch two people he knew pledge their love to each other while he was there with his own beloved. And that's when...

An idea. It was a dumb idea. He'd never consider this except... well... he was just drunk enough to not care. And... well... the party had reached that point right? Where you could do stuff like this...

But his accent? The song was a Mercanti one but... fok it. Too. Drunk. To. Care.

He waited until the band had finished their song... they'd been taking requests for a bit and Tobias leaned into the lead singer to whisper something. He nodded and...

"Hello," Tobias said into the microphone.
"I'd first like to say..." he said, looking to Nurendir and Vivika, "that it's incredible to see you too together, and your love, seeing it today, seeing Nurendir literally fight for it... it's inspiring...." he paused and smiled.
"And it's inspired me," he said, turning to face his own wife.

"Aly, seeing Nur and Vivika, it makes me realize I'm so lucky and so happy to have you..."

The song began to play. Alycia looked on curiously until she realized that Tobias wasn't putting the mic down or handing it to the band's lead singer.

And then...

"All the small things, true care, truth brings," he began. He didn't feel nervous. Usually he would, but he felt... calm. The song was slow, and he just let himself slip into the flow of it. Alycia went from a curious glance to an ear to ear smile as her husband continued.

"I'll take one lift, your ride, best trip. Always, I know, you'll be at my show," he sang with a grin as he began to approach Alycia at their table.

"Watching, waiting, commiserating. Say it ain't so, I will not go, turn the lights off, carry me home..."

"Late night, come home, work sucks, I know...She left me roses by the stairs, surprises let me know she cares..." he sang, returning Alycia's grin ear to ear.

"Just say it ain't so, I will not go, turn the lights off, carry me home..." he really leaned into the last "home," leading up to something...

"Keep your head still, I'll be your thrill...The night will go on, the night will go on, my little windmill..."

"All the small things, true care, truth bring. I'll take one lift, your ride, best trip. Always, I know..." he was ramping up the intensity, now just a few feet from Alycia.

"You'll be at my show! Watching, waiting, commiserating! Say it ain't so, I will not go...Turn the lights off...carry me..." he paused... he was just drunk enough to do this, and his green eyes sparkled with love for his wife...

"...home..."

He finished it, setting the mic down. Alycia stood and they embraced, before Tobias slid her back into her chair at the table, joining her. Heart racing, but very glad he'd done it.



All the Small Things by Postmodern Jukebox, 4:00

OOC Note: awaiting approval from @Kyle
 
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