The Federation
Established Nation
Sander K. Rygaard International Airport usually abuzz with activity was for once quiet much to the chagrin of thousands of travelers attempting to get to destinations international and national. A temporary flight restriction was activated over the airfield creating a thirty mile exclusion zone around the airport restricting the movement of aircraft from the ground up to eighteen thousand feet. The VIP aircraft of the Touzenese and Pohjanmaan leader’s arrival had been meticulously planned to coincide with each other so as to reduce the strain that would be caused by their arrivals.
On the ramp greetings were had with the Director of Foreign Affairs, Katalin Faraday and other various Sylvanian bureaucrats who had begged to be there to shake the hands of these esteemed guests. However the hand shaking and platitudes did not last long as all parties were ushered to armored limousines flanked by police cruisers and the Charleroi Metropolitan Police Department’s finest motorcycle police leading the way in a flying vee formation, clad in riding leathers and riding the newest Electra Motorcycle Corporation’s Road Gliders. The inbound lane approaching Charleroi from the north was devoid of all traffic, the metro police clearing the road with rolling closures as the motorcade of limousines and police vehicles with lights blazing, even in the sunlight sped, toward their destination.
Time stood still in the city itself as the motorcade passed near the downtown financial district where towering sky scrapers, at one time their construction forbidden, now clashed with the old colonial architecture of the older buildings. The towering behemoths were left behind and now gave way to government buildings built in the colonial revival style of architecture formed the Capitol district. Cairnwood house once built on a small rise in the land and once surrounded by large forest trees was now enclosed in a massive steel fence and now only partially hidden in a small copse representing the once mighty forest that had been cut down to make way for the growing capital city. As they approached the gates, the police vehicles turned away as men in suits, wearing mirrored sunglasses and armed with submachine guns that seemed to appear from nowhere now surrounded the motorcade and ran alongside it as they entered the grounds of the executive mansion.
The motorcade wheeled around to the rear of the mansion, where guests were received and the President of Pohjanmaa and Dictator of Touzen where greeted by President Ashley Breckenridge and his wife Keira. Another round of handshakes and kindly greetings were exchanged. Behind the group, hand selected members of the media furiously snapped pictures of the guests, they kept quiet having been sternly informed before hand that no questions were to be asked and that they could expect further update as the meeting went on in their daily press packets.
Cairnwood house was constructed in 1842 and was remodeled in 1963 its crumbling structure and ever changing interior restored to the architects original intent, the room they would confer in was the blue room, where the cabinet would meet for matters of state. It was well lit, perhaps a bit too bright when combined with the light blue of the walls and white ceiling. The President’s wife had bid farewell as they had ventured deeper into the manor, her place elsewhere. The long conference table had been replaced with a circular table, furnished with writing utensils, notepads, chargers, drinks of several different types and those not present only a call of a staff member away.
The walls were adorned with paintings of important figures in Sylvania history and at the far end overlooking the table the presidential portrait of Sander Rygaard permanently framed by black drapes to mourn his untimely murder and to serve as a warning to the current president. Breckenridge dwelled upon the painting for a moment, a twitching of where his right eye used to be concealed by the patch he used to conceal its uncomfortable absence. His own brush with death connected him briefly to dead President now gazing down upon them from his painted realm.
Breckenridge turned toward his guests and motioned for them to feel free to be seated, “Please make yourselves comfortable, should there be anything you might need I can have it brought to you at a moments notice.” Breckenridge moved to seat himself facing away from the painting. “It really is a good day, I am not one to usually small talk about weather, but when your city is cursed with over half the year either cloudy, raining or snowing it truly is a blessing.”
“But we are not here to discuss weather but rather cooperation on several different matters. I will not lie, Sylvania needs friends and while in different circumstances I would sit back while the world entangles itself until it strangles itself to death the interconnected nature of our world shows me that this is impossible. The world economy has taken shock after shock, whether its war waged by the Domain in Burgundy, the collapse of a Himyari state here or there, an empire changing over night into a republic, a long dead empire reformed in desperation or Long Sea shenanigans of all different types,” the long sea mentioned with a bit of an awkward wink and a smirk, “we Sylvanians find ourselves being strangled!”
“The world is becoming ever more chaotic and more dangerous for freedom loving people and a certain paranoia is growing over Post-Delegationism. Currently the world is focused on the Domain’s invasion of Burgundy but once that is no longer a priority? Then what? Hell, the Eiffellanders kidnap anti-statists and balk when you demand their return. The Nedernesians kidnapped two of my own citizens, it was only by threats of economic sanctions that they acquiesced to our demands. I was very interested in the words of Mori Ayumu who wrote that they hate our freedom. I truly believe that is the case.
“The Sylvanian idea of freedom may be somewhat different than that of your two nations and delegationism still lives and breathes here though I am attempting to return our government back to the hands off approach that our nation was founded upon and our constitution demands, but I feel that now is not the time for debate but rather action. That is why I’ve asked you here, to speak of cooperation specifically free trade and perhaps a military alliance. The Touzenese military is world renowned for its ability to reach out and react to threats, but we see that you are becoming spread thin and more isolated. The Pohjanmaans are plucky but how long will those aligned against you continue to allow Pohjanmaa to operate as it does. With the world partitioning itself along lines of ideology and in odd cases joining with those they are opposed to, especially in Germania and Gallia, it is my opinion that we do the same. We can continue to trade on the level that we do or we could have free trade among our three nations, our canal is already open to your vessels, military and civilian, but if our nations were allied with each other we could present a force that would make those who hate our freedom think again. Perhaps that might be a bridge too far for this first meeting but it is one of my goals. It is my belief that we can only benefit from further cooperation, that freedom can benefit.”
On the ramp greetings were had with the Director of Foreign Affairs, Katalin Faraday and other various Sylvanian bureaucrats who had begged to be there to shake the hands of these esteemed guests. However the hand shaking and platitudes did not last long as all parties were ushered to armored limousines flanked by police cruisers and the Charleroi Metropolitan Police Department’s finest motorcycle police leading the way in a flying vee formation, clad in riding leathers and riding the newest Electra Motorcycle Corporation’s Road Gliders. The inbound lane approaching Charleroi from the north was devoid of all traffic, the metro police clearing the road with rolling closures as the motorcade of limousines and police vehicles with lights blazing, even in the sunlight sped, toward their destination.
Time stood still in the city itself as the motorcade passed near the downtown financial district where towering sky scrapers, at one time their construction forbidden, now clashed with the old colonial architecture of the older buildings. The towering behemoths were left behind and now gave way to government buildings built in the colonial revival style of architecture formed the Capitol district. Cairnwood house once built on a small rise in the land and once surrounded by large forest trees was now enclosed in a massive steel fence and now only partially hidden in a small copse representing the once mighty forest that had been cut down to make way for the growing capital city. As they approached the gates, the police vehicles turned away as men in suits, wearing mirrored sunglasses and armed with submachine guns that seemed to appear from nowhere now surrounded the motorcade and ran alongside it as they entered the grounds of the executive mansion.
The motorcade wheeled around to the rear of the mansion, where guests were received and the President of Pohjanmaa and Dictator of Touzen where greeted by President Ashley Breckenridge and his wife Keira. Another round of handshakes and kindly greetings were exchanged. Behind the group, hand selected members of the media furiously snapped pictures of the guests, they kept quiet having been sternly informed before hand that no questions were to be asked and that they could expect further update as the meeting went on in their daily press packets.
Cairnwood house was constructed in 1842 and was remodeled in 1963 its crumbling structure and ever changing interior restored to the architects original intent, the room they would confer in was the blue room, where the cabinet would meet for matters of state. It was well lit, perhaps a bit too bright when combined with the light blue of the walls and white ceiling. The President’s wife had bid farewell as they had ventured deeper into the manor, her place elsewhere. The long conference table had been replaced with a circular table, furnished with writing utensils, notepads, chargers, drinks of several different types and those not present only a call of a staff member away.
The walls were adorned with paintings of important figures in Sylvania history and at the far end overlooking the table the presidential portrait of Sander Rygaard permanently framed by black drapes to mourn his untimely murder and to serve as a warning to the current president. Breckenridge dwelled upon the painting for a moment, a twitching of where his right eye used to be concealed by the patch he used to conceal its uncomfortable absence. His own brush with death connected him briefly to dead President now gazing down upon them from his painted realm.
Breckenridge turned toward his guests and motioned for them to feel free to be seated, “Please make yourselves comfortable, should there be anything you might need I can have it brought to you at a moments notice.” Breckenridge moved to seat himself facing away from the painting. “It really is a good day, I am not one to usually small talk about weather, but when your city is cursed with over half the year either cloudy, raining or snowing it truly is a blessing.”
“But we are not here to discuss weather but rather cooperation on several different matters. I will not lie, Sylvania needs friends and while in different circumstances I would sit back while the world entangles itself until it strangles itself to death the interconnected nature of our world shows me that this is impossible. The world economy has taken shock after shock, whether its war waged by the Domain in Burgundy, the collapse of a Himyari state here or there, an empire changing over night into a republic, a long dead empire reformed in desperation or Long Sea shenanigans of all different types,” the long sea mentioned with a bit of an awkward wink and a smirk, “we Sylvanians find ourselves being strangled!”
“The world is becoming ever more chaotic and more dangerous for freedom loving people and a certain paranoia is growing over Post-Delegationism. Currently the world is focused on the Domain’s invasion of Burgundy but once that is no longer a priority? Then what? Hell, the Eiffellanders kidnap anti-statists and balk when you demand their return. The Nedernesians kidnapped two of my own citizens, it was only by threats of economic sanctions that they acquiesced to our demands. I was very interested in the words of Mori Ayumu who wrote that they hate our freedom. I truly believe that is the case.
“The Sylvanian idea of freedom may be somewhat different than that of your two nations and delegationism still lives and breathes here though I am attempting to return our government back to the hands off approach that our nation was founded upon and our constitution demands, but I feel that now is not the time for debate but rather action. That is why I’ve asked you here, to speak of cooperation specifically free trade and perhaps a military alliance. The Touzenese military is world renowned for its ability to reach out and react to threats, but we see that you are becoming spread thin and more isolated. The Pohjanmaans are plucky but how long will those aligned against you continue to allow Pohjanmaa to operate as it does. With the world partitioning itself along lines of ideology and in odd cases joining with those they are opposed to, especially in Germania and Gallia, it is my opinion that we do the same. We can continue to trade on the level that we do or we could have free trade among our three nations, our canal is already open to your vessels, military and civilian, but if our nations were allied with each other we could present a force that would make those who hate our freedom think again. Perhaps that might be a bridge too far for this first meeting but it is one of my goals. It is my belief that we can only benefit from further cooperation, that freedom can benefit.”