A Splendid Time

A collaborative roleplay turned story by 9Eyes and Parazrael.

## Initial Pleasantries

The Kylnrift Parity was represented by Speaker Ocypaphine, accompanied by Director Marcus Ramsay of the Shipwrights. Ocy is dressed in a tweed black, whte, and tan suit and black necktie (think western-style), with a lapel pin displaying the iconic emblem of the Kylnrift. He carries a smooth Balae-horn pipe which he frequently smokes from, and an amber-topped cane. Notably, his right eye and left arms are cybernetic, their casing stylized with art deco designs of polished copper. Ramsay wears a plain black duster, with leather chaps over his pants and tall, but thankfully clean work boots; his right arm also appears to be cybernetic.

HENT was represented by Lord Desylyrinnon, their Foreign Minister and a middle-aged Tvolin aristocrat, dressed in a flowing, formal gown of blue, gold, and white. She wears an Edenic Rhyan star pendant made of pure silver.

The Port of Krizovia, the seat of power of the Krizovian Dreadfleet, was a dark and foreboding giant black husk of a station-- Surrounded by seized and pilfered ships of varying shapes and sizes. Both outside the station and within, throughout its crowded halls the undeniable sense of rot and decay to those psionically inclined could be felt, a feeling that couldn't be shaken away. But despite this feeling of dread, of disintegration, and of abbadon; life on the station itself appeared to be relatively normal... For the undead, that is.

The royal estate, the seat of power not only on the station, but across the whole of Krizovia, was a tucked away thing near the center of the giant amalgamation. Crossing an inconceivably deep chasm, and entering through the tall, dark foreboding doors of the estate, the delegation would only find themselves further in the gloom. Stuffy, uncirculated halls of stark blacks and blood reds greeted them, suspicious eyes abound, this state of affairs going on forever seemingly until, finally, they would enter through a set of black double doors.

It would appear to be a lounge, The walls adorned with paintings and works of art, gothic and dark in their style, of an ancient inclination. Ornate rugs of reds and blacks covered the dark wooden floor, and there was even a small fireplace off to the side, though its fire was tainted with the void-- A black glow was all it gave.

Sladana Zivic, the Grand Queen of Krizovia, could be found sitting in a large red cushioned chair of black wood, facing three very slightly smaller chairs of much the same design; a small table with a bottle of red wine and glasses between the two.
She wore an ornate dress of blacks, reds, silvers, and golds; contouring to her but also quite obviously being armored to some extant. Her hair was a grayish white, pulled up and held with golden rose pins, also supported by black metal bat wings pins that stuck out. Overall, she had an aristocratic air to her; one perhaps tainted by the void, but an aristocratic air nevertheless.

Offering a fanged smile, she offered polite but firm greeting, and gestured towards the chairs in-front of her, lifting a hand from her black hilted sword in the process.

Ocypaphine floated down into his seat, upper arms resting on those of the chair, while his lower left remained in his lap, and his right on the pipe. Ramsay took a seat beside him. Desy, the color only draining from her face more as she entered the lounge, slowly took the remaining seat.

Ocy took a puff from his pipe. "You certainly have a taste in decoration, Your Highness." He let a trail of smoke snake out of his mouth as it spread into a slight grin.

"Why, your compliment is appreciated, Your Excellency. I've always considered good taste a sign of promising disposition in those that I encounter."

"Most of the time." She'd smirk, as the red wine bottle would open seemingly on its own, and begin to fill her glass. "So then, I trust that the journey here for you all wasn't too treacherous? I know the geography can occasionally pose some issue."

"It was about what we Kylnrifters have become used to," Ocy replies. "I saw a Balae eating another Balae when we refueled at Vekduzar. Fascinating creatures."

He takes another puff of smoke.

"Now, on to business. I'll let my fellow Tvolis get a word in first, it seems like she has something to say." He nods to Desy.

Desy flicks her eyes around the room, then clears her throat. "Yes, actually, His Holiness the High Ecclesiarch wanted me to get a particular question out of the way before we move forward with any agreements. I hope it's of no offense to Your Excellency."

"Of course not."

She'd rest back in her chair somewhat, the now full glass of wine floating into her waiting hand casually; Sladana's red eyes now focused on Desy. "What ever is on his mind?"

"He wants an idea, an assessment, rather, of how entrenched your settlement here in Arrival is."

Desy would see the corner's of Sladana's mouth twitch downward slightly as she says her question, her brows furrowing for a brief moment before returning to their, now nominally, contented expression.

"Ignoring the peculiarity of such a question, I would say we're a fairly established nation-state. We've made the necessary stellar infrastructure, we've established contracts with our planetary subjects, mm, so on and so fourth."

She'd give a shrug and take a sip of her wine. "We're a quick working sort, a requirement when you arrive to nothing but chaos."

Desy would nod in response. "Well, that's good to know." She inhales for a moment before continuing. "Look, we don't want any hostilities to break out, and I'm sure you don't either, considering your offer. As His Holiness stated to you, we have a duty, both as devout servants of Rhya's Eden and now members of AMSE, to the astropolitical neighborhood of the Arrival. There are other parts of Aoshtai that we believe are worth at least considering before you forge any permanent ties here."

Ocypaphine coughs out a plume of smoke midway through Desy's last sentence. "His Holiness certainly has... interesting priorities, as ever."

What can only be described as a slight contemptuous smile slowly creeps across Sladana's face, veins being more visible on the top of her hand, the grip on her wine glass tightened. She would glance over at Ocypaphine, then Ramsay, then back at Desy.

"Mm... Hmhmhm..."

She would stifle a chuckle. "I should let you know that we have; the Arrival was not our first destination, we originally wished settlement near our kin in Levlistra-- Surely you have heard of them, North in the Concourse. We were practically chased out for our efforts, all the civility in the world was not enough to surmount their unreasonable hatred and insults."

"I would rather not be forced to relocate again, and I shall not. I have offered His Holiness an olive branch, a civilization to a civilization, for a practical relationship based on mutual respect and aid. I do not seek hostility with the AMSE in any form, there is no practical immediate risk to you with my existence."

An annoyed frown would now rest on her face as she'd set her wine glass down back on the table, straighten herself up, and seemingly look straight through Desy. "So why do you recommend this to me? I offer to talk in peace with you, and the first thing you ask of me is to leave. Is peaceful coexistence with your sort an impossibility, is the state of Aoshtai as such where I cannot even expect a negotiation from a position of good faith?"

Desy's expression betrays a loss for words for a moment, until she eventually says, "No, it isn't. If you're here to stay, we can work with that."

Ocy spoke up again, "Well, if you'll excuse our neighbors for their choice of an opening statement, I think we can get to the actual business." He nods to Ramsay.

Ramsay pinches the bridge of his nose, pulla out a small booklet, and opens it. "Our previous surveys of the region you've settled in suggests that our Hydrocarbon, Antimatter, and shipbuilding industries could make quite a profit from trade with yours."

"With the right priorities and protection," Ocy adds, "Ramsay here is willing to have his boys ship their goods for cheaper, within reason. And, in return, we're more than happy to begin opening our markets to you."

He takes another puff of smoke. "As for non-aggression, you see, we've had some past experiences trying to finalize agreements on our lonesome. In short, this whole side of the galaxy [unknown Tvolin anatomical word] itself. It is simply not in the interests of the Parity to have another standoff in our backyard so soon after. So, if you make yourself a good commercial partner, then we're in business and we'll sponsor a non-aggression motion with the rest of AMSE, which I'm quite certain New Tvolai would comply with." Desy quietly nodded in response.

She'd visibly ease up, the tension in her expression for the most part beginning to melt away, though she would very obviously still be somewhat on edge as she glanced between Ocy and Desy-- Hands folded on her lap, one idly tapping the other with its fingers.

"This sounds like a reasonable exchange you're proposing to us, and these commodities \*are\* in short supply within our borders-- Or that is at least what my economists and logistical specialists are incessantly telling me."

"But," she'd say, reaching for her glass of wine again, "while I agree that, yes, a non-aggression pact with the AMSE would be the preferable end goal, our chances of this becoming a possibility is lessened without diplomatic inertia. Trade agreements are one thing, a non-aggression pact with you \*before\* that point is another."

"Tell me, what was this... Issue you experienced in the past regarding diplomatic agreements such as this? If there was one, I must be unfortunately unaware of it."

"Ah, yes, I had a feeling you might ask for clarification," Ocy says, reaching into his coat pocket. "Fortunately, I picked up something from one of our more talented historians on my way here, which I believe explains the situation better than I ever could." He pulls out a simple hologram projector, clicks it on, and slides it onto the table. It lights up, displaying a black-and-white image.

"𝓑𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓫𝔂 𝓑𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓮 𝓟𝓲𝓬𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮𝓼, 𝓘𝓷𝓬." the title reads, with a rubber tube caricature of a Balae with arms and a bowler hat beneath it.

The narration begins, with a distinct Kylnrifter Hamerlan accent, albeit distorted by the recording, "In the year 20 NAC, just months after the Kylnrift restored its contact with the galaxy at-large, our government was faced with a choice." Stock recordings of Advenae, Kylnrifter, Pheroene, and finally Karian fleets are shown. "As Karstedt began to dedicate more and more resources to protecting its trade interests in the Kylnrift, our government in power at the time grew worried that, before we knew it, we would cede our economic freedom to the Karians. That is when the College of Directors made a choice: to join the Phero Ecumene, Chaykorom, Varslan, and Khanbaqir in forming the Katechon Free Trade Praxis, to ensure the mutual economic freedom of all member states."

The view goes black.

"Well, it didn't go quite like that."
Stock footage of Seniborcian leaders, soldiers, and ships are shown. "Our allies in AMSE, the Seniborcian Systems Admiralty, declared they would take a police action against the Kylnrift for its association with the KFTP. In response, the KFTP sent a, pardon my Late High, motherload of fleets to the Arrival to counter the SSA. Followed by the Illarians backing them. And then the Karians and Vakhans backing the KFTP." Similar stock footage is shown for each state as their names are said.

"Eventually, it all came down to the agreement that a vote of the AMSE member states - the Kylnrift, SSA, and Advenae - would decide whether Kylnrift would exit or remain in the KFTP. They ultimately voted for the former, and it was further agreed that each of the involved states would leave behind an equal party of trade vessels in the Kylnrift. And that was that."

The recording ends with a musical fanfare accompanied by the words "That's all folks!" Credits begin to roll, and Ocy promptly shuts off and retrieves the projector.

"Ah, hm, I see... So you got-- Well, perhaps I won't dirty the air in this room with foul language just yet, but you got pulled into a quagmire."

She'd chuckle, taking a sip of her wine and giving a shake of her head. "Seems about on par for this galaxy from what I have seen, which occasionally makes me wonder how it got to its prosperous state from the start; but I digress. So, if I'm to be correct then, the Seniborcians attempted to reign you in for being an associate of another political bloc, \*while\* in the AMSE."

"I think that is a key term here, however, "political bloc," we're not aligned to any such thing. Surely there should be no risk to the AMSE's integrity with a separate treaty to us then, yes? You are a sovereign nation, after-all."

Ocy's head emerges from the small cumulus cloud which had formed around his head during the recording.

"You make a fair point," Ocy replies. "I do think we should start relatively slow, though. What do you say to a non-aggression pact out to 30 NAC, and then we up it to something longer if and when we bring a proposal to AMSE?" He takes another puff from his pipe. "Lord Desy, what do you think?"

"A seven-year agreement would be viable for the Holy Eden," she said.

"Hmm. This definitely is a step in the right direction, though if you don't mind me asking, and I assure you it is quite relevant, how long does your kind live on average?"

"Well, 2 to 3 centuries isn't uncommon for us Tvolii, under good circumstances." Ocy takes another puff. "And an excess of 500 standard years for those with the power, tech, and influence to just keep going, like His Holiness Ilshaephom and Prime Magistrate Umbyrvraxa. I myself am pushing 180." Another puff. "And you, Your Excellency?"

"Just because she's deathless doesn't mean you should ask a woman for her age, quite the revealing question."

She'd give a quick roll of her eyes and sip her wine. "But since we're all of a friendly disposition here, and you're insisting, I suppose I can divulge it to you."

"A thousand years, well, a thousand years and three hundred change to be exact. I... Hm, that does raise the question then about how long 7 years actually is in relation to our lifespans."

"So with this in mind, I propose a counter-offer," she'd suggest, gesturing casually with a hand towards Ocy and Desy, "extend the terms of the non-aggression pact to 15 years, to account for our natural lifespans and its effect on our perceptions. I think that would be quite fair, no?"

"Well, why not just make it an even 12?" Ocy counter-offered.

"14 is even as well." Sladana promptly responded back with.

"Deal." Ocy said. He glanced to Desy.

"The Holy Eden will accept 14," she said, plainly.

"Wonderful... See, I'm not so eager to bite then."

She'd chuckle, "splendid though, so was there anything else in particular you wished to discuss with me, either personal or as matters of state?"

"I also do have a royal feast planned for later in the evening, so if you would like to stay for that, then you are most certainly invited to do so."

"Nothing else comes to mind at the moment, but I'd say Ramsay and I will stick around for this feast," Ocy replies. Ramsay nods quietly.

"While I would love to," Desy says, "unfortunately, I have some other priorities back on New Tvolai which I must attend to as soon as possible."

"Aw, well that is quite the shame. But you need not fret, our feasts are always open to acquaintances of Krizovia, so you may visit whenever you have the time to spare."

With a smile she'd continue, "now then though, I'll have my servants show you to your guest accommodations in the meanwhile... Or the dock from which you came, in your case." She'd give a nod towards Desy.

"It's been a pleasant meet."

## A Lovely Feast

Swiftly being escorted away by summoned servants, Sladana giving nothing but a smile and a slight wave, Desy would find herself escorted to her vessel with little trouble. A far cry from the Royal Estate, her only companions here would be shadowy figures moving about in the poorly lit interior of the hanger, whether it be captains, deckhands, guards, or everything in between.

Meanwhile, Ocy and Ramsay would be brought to a well furnished, but still equally darkly designed guest room. The furniture and paintings inside, as was true in the lounge, would look to be ancient pieces-- But at the very least everything was well taken care of.

Staying here for about five hours, eventually they would hear a knock on the door; it would be a servant, and once again, Ocy and Ramsay would find themselves escorted through the dark and winding halls, before being brought through a set of dark double doors, opened by adjacent guards.

Inside was a more compact dining hall, though considering this was a station, that much could probably be forgiven. Having much of the same design aspects as the lounge, a singular dining table sat in the middle, overhead a black crystal chandelier that flickered with real candles... Again, with the same black flame that could be seen in the lounge's fireplace.

At the head of the table was Sladana, who smiled and stood; adjacent to her right was a middled-aged human with a fair complexion and somewhat rounder face, a head of black but steadily graying hair sat on his top, and he wore a dark blue suit and a striped tie. Meanwhile, to her left, was a somewhat younger man with a tanner complexion who wore a beige-green tunic and pants, red and gold adornments on his shoulder; he was clearly a military man, and interestingly for both of these individuals, they didn't appear to be vampires.

Making her way over to the two, she'd gesture to the table, "I am still absolutely thrilled you decided to attend! Please, have a seat with us!"

"Please, the thrill is all mine," Ocy declared, as he and Ramsay took their seats.

"Now, Your Excellency," Ocy continued, "would you care to introduce us to your… intriguingly alive compatriots?"

"Of course, of course!" Sladana would say, sitting back down at the head of the table before gesturing at the men. "Introduce yourselves to our new guests?"

There would be an air of tension between the two men, the one in the suit glancing over at her, before straightening himself out and extending a hand to Ocy, whom he was now sitting next to. "Abelus Bloemsma, President of Prithania, I... We're ah, we both hold a special position within Krizovia's realm."

The military man, glancing over at Abelus, would only give a slight nod at Ocy. One would notice that these men, their accents, sounded oddly similar to Karians-- In-fact the words they spoke sounded almost Karian as well, but yet not, just barely outside of its linguistic realm, with a distinctly rural twang no less. "And I am Wybrand Nicolai-- Chairman of the Verisan Workers' Republic. I was told you are the leader of the Kylnrifters, yes? Here on business?"

Ocy shook Bloemsma’s hand. "It’s quite a pleasure to meet both of you. And yes, I am, as far as most are concerned. I handle the businesses of state and such that are best vested in one Kylnrifter. The Directors, like Mr. Ramsay here…" he gestured to Ramsay, "…are the ones in charge of the lawmaking and budget-setting, you know, the things that require a more dialectical and cooperative approach."

"Right."

Nicolai would glance over at Sladana, before back at Ocy and Ramsay, "so since I have the right, I will be straight forward before our meals come; you're going to be exporting a great deal into the realm with your trade, but what can we trade with you exactly. We're primarily, what could be considered internationally, a Class II economy-- Concretes, Steel Forging, Fabricating, Planet Based Infrastructure, Building Materials."

He would count these different manufacturing sectors with his fingers on the table, eyeing the two warily, before nodding over at Bloemsma, "you I believe... What was it you said to me."

"Spices and Foods, the relationship the government of Prithania shares with its plantations... Eh, I would say, is special."

"And so is the relationship of Krizovia with you." Sladana would say with a fanged smile towards Nicolai and Bloemsma, before folding her hands on the table. "But yes, I suppose I share the same concern my ever devoted subjects have, what trading opportunities would there be for Krizovia within your market? I hope I'm not giving you the impression that we don't value your trade, but there should be an equitable exchange, do you not agree?"

"Oh I entirely agree," Ocy replied. He leaned back in the chair, two hands together, another bringing his pipe to his lips. "Well, our food and spice markets are quite competitive, and I’m sure you can get an edge in—it’s only so much skin off Karstedt and Chaykorom’s gold-rimmed noses. Our Class II markets are much the same, outside of some talented tech and electronics moguls—we import a lot from Chaykorom and Vakha for building materials and radioactives, but having a closer source competing with them is always welcome." He let out a cloud of smoke.

Sladana'd raise her brows slightly towards the direction of Nicolai and Bloemsma, gesturing a hand as well. Though she'd say nothing, the wordless message would be clear, "see I told you, everything is fine."

Nicolai would only respond with a low grumble to Sladana's wordless assurance, ratting his knuckles on the table twice, "right, I find that acceptable enough, I'm certain my comrades in the Ried will find it acceptable as well. We were fearing the worst; we've only had a week at most to evaluate our position in the galaxy, and from what we have seen most markets appear saturated-- Including yours, almost."

"There doesn't appear to be room economically for new entrants to the galactic community, is what I am trying to say."

"Indeed," Ocy replied. "Our many mercantile friends north of here have seen to that. Our deal here shouldn't upset them too much, though, given the... intense amounts of profits they each rake in from everywhere else." He took another puff from his pipe.

"Now, if that's all the residual politics, what's on your menu tonight, Your Excellencies?"

"Ah, yes!"

She'd clasp her hands together and smile, a genuine sense of excitement coming off of her as she'd continue, "a wonderful feast, as I said! First, for the appetizers, we shall be served a wonderful platter of kavurma with čvarci mixed in, and of course this wouldn't be complete without edan cheese and blue caviar, which you can thank our wonderful Bloemsma for."

Bloemsma would give a slight smile and would adjust his suit, sitting back more so-- He'd seem more comfortable talking about this than the particularities of galactic commerce, "don't forget the oven bread either, I didn't bring a baker along for nothing."

"Mmhm, and we'll be having a selection of either a wonderful bottle of rakija or... Ehm..."

She'd snap a finger a few times, trying to recollect something, before glancing over at Nicolai. He'd keep his, by now typical, cold expression and would say plainly, "jiskebitter-- It clears the palate."

"Quite so! I had some earlier from a spare our esteemed Nicolai brought, and it's quite something, a good something!"

With a chuckle, she'd clap her hands together twice, "maybe that's enough talk from me though. Servants, I think we're ready!"

Right after she would say this, a double door opposite of the one Ocy and Ramsay entered through would swing open; a menagerie of servants walking through, wielding covered silvered platters in both hands. They appear quite unusual for a servants, having sturdy black leather boots and black vests, along with loose fitting black pants and a white waist apron-- Were it not for the apron, they could possibly be seen as ship-hands, or perhaps even privateer auxiliaries, but dressed better for the most part.

The three waiters though, holding a platter in each hand sans for one which precariously balanced the two beverage bottles on a plate, seemed unusual. Excluding the disturbing presence of the void wafting off of them, and their somewhat distant looks, each one of their hair styles was different; in-fact, now that one thinks about it, there hasn't been a consistent hair style from person to person on this station, nor standard with facial hair. Almost as if every single person was ripped from disparate points of time, the only unifying aspect being the uniforms adorned by those associated with the Grand Queen.

Setting the five platters down between the group of dignitaries, they would be opened with the accompanying steam from some; in particular the golden colored cvarci, somewhat dried pork cracklings with a stringy appearance, looking almost like tobacco shavings. The Kavurma also steamed, being brown pieces of sautéed lamb, or some similar animal-- Both of these appear to be heavily peppered, and likely are made to accompany the golden/brown oven bread rolls.

On a smaller platter is blue caviar and the accompanying ivory spoon, and prepared slices of softer looking edan cheese on another; vegetables being supplied on a smaller platter as well, though obviously this is more of an afterthought then anything else. A clear bottle of Rakija, and a dark gray bottle of Jiskebitter, are set in the middle to be served into their accompanying engraved shot glasses.

"Wonderful, wonderful! You may be dismissed." Sladana would cheerfully say, though would motion her hand to dismiss the servants in a rather cold fashion; a jarring contrast. Meanwhile, Nicolai would reach over to the Jiskebitter, and would promptly begin to pour himself a drink; even from where Ramsay is sitting, the drink can be smelt, a mixture that smells of ash and ethanol-- But also some pomegranate.

"If anyone cares for some, say it." Nicolai would bluntly say, Sladana glancing at him before smiling and looking at the others, grabbing the bottle of Rakija.

"Anyone?"

One thing about these cuisines, or perhaps something peculiar about them now that they've had a few seconds to sit, is that they have an oddly iron-like smell to them, almost being impossible to ignore with its potency.

"Certainly," Ocy and Ramsay each said, one after the other.

Upon the reveal of the food, Ocy's flower-like tongue began flicking out, pulsating in various stages of floral openness, almost with a life of its own. Such a reaction was not unusual for a Tvolis - if Sladana had familiarized herself in any way with Tvolin biology, she would know that their organ of smell was in the tongue. Its thin "stem" allowed him to speak clearly even while it was out.

Nicolai couldn't help but stare on as this happened for a brief moment; while Sladana herself didn't get bothered, and for that matter neither did Bloemsma, who currently was already helping himself to the oven bread and caviar. It was clear then that, perhaps, Nicolai had neglected to take into account the alien nature of the Tvoli.

Uncorking the bottle with a pop and a squeak, Sladana would reach over and pour Ocy and Ramsay their drink, a prominent smell of plums wafting off of it. "So, dare I ask, how have your impressions of our fine polity been so far? I must say you've been a pleasure to have with us."

"Especially if you can deal with us rabble," Bloemsma would say, Sladana quickly offering a sharp glare before he would give a laugh in return, "I only jest."

"No-- I'm fine with that." Nicolai would remark, setting his bottle of Jiskebitter to the side, "we're a more robust sort, a rabble that can hold our own, as we always have."

"Well," Ocy began, glass now in hand, "You're certainly a change of pace from the rest of our immediate neighbors-" he let out a slight chuckle as he took a sip, "-machines to the south, and the, ah, Edenics to the west. I'm sure by now you're aware our relationship and history with the latter is... complicated."

Bloemsma would give a nod, "from what I've read, it could be considered one of the hallmark features of this region even; before the arrival of ehm- Advenae and us, of course."

"Hmm..." Sladana would quietly say, glancing over at Nicolai and Bloemsma after their talk about rabble; not that impressed still, seemingly. "...Right, and how would you say relations are now after the war, truly? On an upward trend, I hope? Stability in the region no doubt relies on cooperation between you two."

"An upward trend, yes, but nothing we haven't seen before," Ocy replied. "Even during the days of the Kylnrift State, commerce and feelings fluctuated from war to begrudging cooperation. Of course, the difference this time is the widening world around us. I think, for the foreseeable future, that will keep the Holy Eden in line. I know His Holiness lost his taste for war when the Advenae made it to his doorstep."

Mm. I would imagine no longer existing in a political bubble would help with things, yes, there's more than just you two here now-- Like us, for an example."

She'd gesture towards herself with a chuckle, before lowering it back down, "do you think there's the chance though, perhaps, for there to be a lasting peace between your two peoples-- A political possibility? Historical precedent has its weight, of course, but there comes a point where this..."

Gesturing with her hands for a moment as she thought for the words, her eyes would light up, "...Lingering animosity becomes more trouble than its worth, no? A burden in the background whenever you interact with the galaxy, either of you I should say."

"Indeed, it does." Ocy thought for a moment, taking another sip from his glass. "With the wild card of the wider galaxy, the cluster even, now in our little backwater equation, I wouldn't rule out a major shift in their government. In a way, they are in a position now not unlike the late days of our State. The Kylnrift State was formed for a reason, a purpose, and it filled that purpose well—but after? After the genetic engineers of our new subrace had converted as much of the population as they could, for our survival among the reversing climate of Delirimyrk? The regime became repressive, corrupt. It abused the tools and systems which had once been our salvation. And when the Revolution toppled it, our Free Parity found its own purpose: the good and prosperity of our people. A much more durable one, befitting of a nation."

He sipped the last of the drink from his glass. "Perhaps His Holiness senses that it is time for New Tvolai to do the same. Their faith kept them going when our neighborhood was little, when they could afford to shirk partnership with us. Looking out there, out to a galaxy of giants, they must learn to endure a certain level of... pragmatic malleability. Their decision to join the Security Entente at least suggests an interest in trying."

"Indeed it does, and it makes me quite hopeful for the future... Arm in arm and cooperating, I think you and New Tvolai, perhaps even us one day, can make our own space in the galaxy."

Nicolai's eyes would be narrowed ever so slightly as he glanced between Sladana and Ocy, taking a long sip of his Jiskebitter and seemingly being unfazed. Nodding along slightly as the two converse, he would eventually pipe up, lifting his hand just slightly above the table before putting it back down.

"Yes, giants, all out there-- This is what Her Highness has told me as well, Chaykorom, Ecumene, hmph! Even the old homeland of Karstedt is surviving, but we aren't Karians, we're Vesani, and Prithanians are Prithanians, we have little connection anymore to any of these powers, and the same is for them. So tell me, how do these powers conduct themselves, and what success have your governments had at dealing with them on an equal playing field-- That is, without their shadows over you."

Bloemsma would shrug, stammering over his words, "well, I wouldn't go as far as to say--"

Nicolai would glance over,

"We're different from the Karians."

"Ahhhh, Karstedt, what a place, what a people," Ocy chuckled, leaning back. "They certainly enjoy an... interpretation of helping smaller states. I imagine we'll see how it plays out over the rest of this decade. Just as long as Heiah doesn't have another one of her... moments." Ramsay barely suppressed a chuckle of his own at this, as another spiral of smoke leaked out of Ocy's mouth.

Nicolai's face would remain straight, saying nothing for a long moment as the lids of his eyes wavered somewhat,

"An interpretation?"

He would take another long drink of his Jiskebitter, Sladana chuckling, "well that is fair enough, politics is perhaps maybe the thing most open to interpretation in this cluster, hmhm. Though I think it isn't that important to discuss, we're all knowledgeable politicians here-- Though no doubt more will be revealed to us in time."

She'd bring her hands together, clasping them, "So then! Is the table ready for the main course?"

"Absolutely," said Ocy, the trail of smoke from his mouth finally reaching its end. Ramsay nodded as he emerged from a drink of his Rakija.

"Wonderful~!" She'd say with a jubilent fanged smile, before clapping her hands together, once again beckoning the servants. Double doors would swing open, and in-tow would be a food-cart interestingly empty of any meals. While this happens, more servants would rush over to the table and clear it, whisking away cleared out plates and refilling glasses if they seem even a splash below full-- Krizovians, it would seem, didn't find much merit in a glass that wasn't in that state.

The cart, now full of used plates, would also be host to five new silver plates and utensils that would be placed on the table, along with a large silver sauce pourer for the table to share, and some portable pots of baked vegetables and potatoes of varying sorts. Quickly departing with the cart, despite the fact that there was no food, Sladana would only seem to be getting more excited.

Soon the reason would become apparent.

As soon as the cart is gone, another much larger apparatus would be brought in; it would be an entire Leatherback Slothzard over a mobile fire-pit. Barely able to fit through the large double doors, it would be slowly spinning over the pit rotisserie style, meat already very well done and ready to be served. Indeed, moving alongside the Leatherback as it's brought in would be a somewhat weighty man in a white uniform and a very tall white hat, monstrous butcher's cleaver in hand. Behind him would be another much smaller cart brought in, various seasoning and spices resting on it.

"Greetings your majesty, and honorable delegates! I trust you all are fairing well today?" He would say, quickly giving his cleaver a pass of a sharpening stone.

"Much better now that I've seen this, haha!" Bloemsma would exclaim, Nicolai not being able to help but to smirk in the slightest as he observed the leatherback.

"I'm doing absolutely wonderful, thank you for asking. I trust you've done a marvelous job on this." Sladana would remark.