Bergenheim
Establishing Nation
Eldgarten Conference Centre, Midweis, January 4th, 2018
The early January snows were slowly beginning to clear, replaced by biting, hard wind and bleak, grey skies. The roads of the Capital were lined with filthy slush, the Municipal street cleaners having worked tirelessly to clear and salt the roads to maintain easy traffic flow.
Normally, the city mostly slumbered in January, wrapped up warm with mugs of hot spiced chocolate(Bergenheim* quality, naturally) and wearing thick, knitted sweaters. But the Crisis had disrupted the usual routine of the clockwork city, and now the roads were jammed with traffic, plans and lives and policies all thrown into chaos.
The Centre itself was the construction of generous private benefactors, to aid the cause of peace, and give foreign dignitaries somewhere better than stuffy, 19th century manorhomes to stay while discussing important political matters.
Now, every room and space was booked up. Private security, normally so ubiquitous, had been unceremoniously replaced with plain-clothes members of the Republican Guard, an elite parade regiment that answered directly to the Archchancellor, bypassing Lotti's usual authority.
The General was not here, anyway. Sigrid Vogt stood, Angela and Vice-Chancellor Kessler at her sides, waiting in immaculate suits, though Angela's suit had rather more room for her bust.
Soon, the first delegates would arrive, and be greeted by a plaza cleared of the plebian, and steered to a sumptious, all-you-can-eat Buffet put on by the very best chefs, some hired from Bourgogne. The heating was cranked way up, the food was sumptious, and the hotel rooms where they would be staying even had free wi-fi.
There was only one small problem.
Trivodnia, the Guest of Honour, and one of the key players in all of this, wasn't coming.
Sigrid maintained a fixed grin, but the flexing of her hands in her tight gloves gave away her true feelings.
Angela was nervous, but privately excited about the whole thing. Finally, a chance to shine! In public too! Let them think her just a pretty face and a nice rack. She could play poker with the best of them.
And, privately, she suspected, if the main player wasn't coming, then that would leave the conference to play a lot of poker....
The early January snows were slowly beginning to clear, replaced by biting, hard wind and bleak, grey skies. The roads of the Capital were lined with filthy slush, the Municipal street cleaners having worked tirelessly to clear and salt the roads to maintain easy traffic flow.
Normally, the city mostly slumbered in January, wrapped up warm with mugs of hot spiced chocolate(Bergenheim* quality, naturally) and wearing thick, knitted sweaters. But the Crisis had disrupted the usual routine of the clockwork city, and now the roads were jammed with traffic, plans and lives and policies all thrown into chaos.
The Centre itself was the construction of generous private benefactors, to aid the cause of peace, and give foreign dignitaries somewhere better than stuffy, 19th century manorhomes to stay while discussing important political matters.
Now, every room and space was booked up. Private security, normally so ubiquitous, had been unceremoniously replaced with plain-clothes members of the Republican Guard, an elite parade regiment that answered directly to the Archchancellor, bypassing Lotti's usual authority.
The General was not here, anyway. Sigrid Vogt stood, Angela and Vice-Chancellor Kessler at her sides, waiting in immaculate suits, though Angela's suit had rather more room for her bust.
Soon, the first delegates would arrive, and be greeted by a plaza cleared of the plebian, and steered to a sumptious, all-you-can-eat Buffet put on by the very best chefs, some hired from Bourgogne. The heating was cranked way up, the food was sumptious, and the hotel rooms where they would be staying even had free wi-fi.
There was only one small problem.
Trivodnia, the Guest of Honour, and one of the key players in all of this, wasn't coming.
Sigrid maintained a fixed grin, but the flexing of her hands in her tight gloves gave away her true feelings.
Angela was nervous, but privately excited about the whole thing. Finally, a chance to shine! In public too! Let them think her just a pretty face and a nice rack. She could play poker with the best of them.
And, privately, she suspected, if the main player wasn't coming, then that would leave the conference to play a lot of poker....