Beautancus
Well-Known Member
Despite the recent gloom that seemed to have overtaken the Kingdom, the day had broken with a clear sky, and a brilliant sun. For league upon league in every direction, the crown jewel of Sarmatian cities, Hrodino, gleamed and glittered in the noontide, in a class all its own, especially in comparison to the other decaying and constantly reinventing environs of the sprawling LFS state.
The grandeur of the city was particularly apparent in and around "Krzysztof Sarmatyzky Field", the capital city's largest, and most heavily fortified military base, located across the city from the equally sprawling bulk of the Royal Palace and Government Ministry Complexes.
Named for the nearly mythical founder of the ancient Sarmatian Kingdom, the field had been constructed in the earliest years of mechanized flight's infancy, and had served proudly during both the Great War, and the more recent Civil War as a center of martial prowess and supremacy for the East's oldest surviving Christian Kingdom.
As such, it had been chosen as the site for the first round of meetings between Międzymorze, its neighbor and ally Serbovia, and the Commonwealth of Coronado. The latter nation had remained in virtual diplomatic isolation for much of the last half century, and now, with that stance altering, the two western-most LFS states were taking the initiative in seeking to expand their ties outside of the eastern portion of Europe's main supercontinent. The likeness in values and political ideology between the three nations were remarkable, and it would have been truly foolish for Międzymorze and Serbovia to pass on forming at the very least amicable bilateral ties with Coronado, in an age that grew evermore uncertain and unstable for the community of nations.
The base had been the focus of a level of activity- in the form of various preparations- retrofitting, security sweeps, spit-shining- in the last few days that had been nearly unheard of for several years. Ranking officer-nobles that rarely left their personal "fiefs" in the remote corners of Międzymorze had made the flight into the capital for this day, as had a number of highly placed Sejm ministers- and most importantly the King himself had come out of his routinely seasonal virtual seclusion in his ancient rural manor. It was even rumored that the aging Cardinal-Prince of Hrodino had made the journey to the field, to bestow a blessing upon the fortuitous meeting between nations.
All these personages, and a vast multitude of soldiers, airmen, handpicked journalists, and diplomatic servitors were assembled along the central runway, a human sea of gray, red, and white. The very sky was thronged with squads of immaculately polished steel-gray gunships, Husarz Ir-25's- the bane of the existence of countless Communist and Islamic insurgents over a fifth of the world's landmass- a constant reminder to all of the power and prestige of the Kingdom; and more importantly where the emphasis of those facets of Międzymorzan society was placed.
His Most Catholic and Royal Majesty, Król Kazimierz V Krzyżewski-Matejko, Wielki Książę of Upper Sarmatia, Książę of Hrodino and Krzyżewski- Warlord and Master of the Slavic Middle Kingdom, allowed himself a cocksure smile upon scanning over the mass of humanity that he- and his trusted and valued allies- commanded here today. An opportunity such as this one rarely presented itself to him, or his beloved nation; as the relations that dominated the diplomatic schema of his Kingdom were the same that he had inherited from his father, and likewise his father from his grandfather. There simply never was a reason to break out the "red carpet," save for the rare occasion that the Oikawan Emperor, or Supreme Leader Rodzianko ventured out of their personal domains.
The King's mood was better than it had been in weeks, ever since the initial outbreak of the so-called "Slavic Flu," and the horrific spiral of events that had nearly pulled him into depression. The most recent incident, the disaster at the BenzynaKról oil-sands refinery outside of Balanjar- which he owned the majority stock in- had pulled him into the depths of a great many bottles of the world's finest whiskey...still, with the prospect of showing his patrimony off, and perhaps even founding a new, and solid friendship with a far-flung nation had pulled him from that funk, and placed him here today, in his best-pressed white RAF Air-Marshal's uniform, with a veritable fortune in precious metals and jewels displayed on his chest.
Every Royal Council Ministry was represented around him, nearly a host in and of themselves. Likewise, the Serbovian embassy had seen fit to provide the seasoned veteran diplomat, Dr. Slavko Pograjac for the purposes of this joint-meeting. Accompanying him were a unit of the widely feared and vaunted MDB, specifically the "Protective Forces of State Security," who specialized in exactly this sort of show. Their black uniforms and berets contrasted starkly with the white and red uniforms of the Royal Guard, Army, and RAF, creating a rather nice effect in Kazimierz's mind.
Casting one last, long glance over the assembly, Kazimierz turned to his aid, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "They're making the final approach, Majesty."
The King's smile only grew broader, and he raised a gloved hand to his eye, to block the sun and perhaps catch a first glimpse of the oncoming foreign aircraft.
The grandeur of the city was particularly apparent in and around "Krzysztof Sarmatyzky Field", the capital city's largest, and most heavily fortified military base, located across the city from the equally sprawling bulk of the Royal Palace and Government Ministry Complexes.
Named for the nearly mythical founder of the ancient Sarmatian Kingdom, the field had been constructed in the earliest years of mechanized flight's infancy, and had served proudly during both the Great War, and the more recent Civil War as a center of martial prowess and supremacy for the East's oldest surviving Christian Kingdom.
As such, it had been chosen as the site for the first round of meetings between Międzymorze, its neighbor and ally Serbovia, and the Commonwealth of Coronado. The latter nation had remained in virtual diplomatic isolation for much of the last half century, and now, with that stance altering, the two western-most LFS states were taking the initiative in seeking to expand their ties outside of the eastern portion of Europe's main supercontinent. The likeness in values and political ideology between the three nations were remarkable, and it would have been truly foolish for Międzymorze and Serbovia to pass on forming at the very least amicable bilateral ties with Coronado, in an age that grew evermore uncertain and unstable for the community of nations.
The base had been the focus of a level of activity- in the form of various preparations- retrofitting, security sweeps, spit-shining- in the last few days that had been nearly unheard of for several years. Ranking officer-nobles that rarely left their personal "fiefs" in the remote corners of Międzymorze had made the flight into the capital for this day, as had a number of highly placed Sejm ministers- and most importantly the King himself had come out of his routinely seasonal virtual seclusion in his ancient rural manor. It was even rumored that the aging Cardinal-Prince of Hrodino had made the journey to the field, to bestow a blessing upon the fortuitous meeting between nations.
All these personages, and a vast multitude of soldiers, airmen, handpicked journalists, and diplomatic servitors were assembled along the central runway, a human sea of gray, red, and white. The very sky was thronged with squads of immaculately polished steel-gray gunships, Husarz Ir-25's- the bane of the existence of countless Communist and Islamic insurgents over a fifth of the world's landmass- a constant reminder to all of the power and prestige of the Kingdom; and more importantly where the emphasis of those facets of Międzymorzan society was placed.
His Most Catholic and Royal Majesty, Król Kazimierz V Krzyżewski-Matejko, Wielki Książę of Upper Sarmatia, Książę of Hrodino and Krzyżewski- Warlord and Master of the Slavic Middle Kingdom, allowed himself a cocksure smile upon scanning over the mass of humanity that he- and his trusted and valued allies- commanded here today. An opportunity such as this one rarely presented itself to him, or his beloved nation; as the relations that dominated the diplomatic schema of his Kingdom were the same that he had inherited from his father, and likewise his father from his grandfather. There simply never was a reason to break out the "red carpet," save for the rare occasion that the Oikawan Emperor, or Supreme Leader Rodzianko ventured out of their personal domains.
The King's mood was better than it had been in weeks, ever since the initial outbreak of the so-called "Slavic Flu," and the horrific spiral of events that had nearly pulled him into depression. The most recent incident, the disaster at the BenzynaKról oil-sands refinery outside of Balanjar- which he owned the majority stock in- had pulled him into the depths of a great many bottles of the world's finest whiskey...still, with the prospect of showing his patrimony off, and perhaps even founding a new, and solid friendship with a far-flung nation had pulled him from that funk, and placed him here today, in his best-pressed white RAF Air-Marshal's uniform, with a veritable fortune in precious metals and jewels displayed on his chest.
Every Royal Council Ministry was represented around him, nearly a host in and of themselves. Likewise, the Serbovian embassy had seen fit to provide the seasoned veteran diplomat, Dr. Slavko Pograjac for the purposes of this joint-meeting. Accompanying him were a unit of the widely feared and vaunted MDB, specifically the "Protective Forces of State Security," who specialized in exactly this sort of show. Their black uniforms and berets contrasted starkly with the white and red uniforms of the Royal Guard, Army, and RAF, creating a rather nice effect in Kazimierz's mind.
Casting one last, long glance over the assembly, Kazimierz turned to his aid, and raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "They're making the final approach, Majesty."
The King's smile only grew broader, and he raised a gloved hand to his eye, to block the sun and perhaps catch a first glimpse of the oncoming foreign aircraft.