Wasatch at Colonial Hall

[Thaumantica]

The Great Colonial Hall, Vesper
1230 OST

Wax likenesses of the Nation of Wasatch's greatest heroes stood poised at the golden door entrance of The Great Colonial Hall, staring absently through the visitors of a unique cultural fair. Beyond that, illuminated by soft lighting, several reproductions of famous national paintings displayed the more artistic side of the Boreas Nation.

Franklin Campbell received the visitors with rosy cheeks and an overeager smile, enjoying the limelight afforded to him by his father, Carson Campbell, Commander of the Expeditionary Force occupying the Carolina Islands.

"Welcome, welcome!" he proudly declared from behind a podium adorned with the Wasatch National Flag. "Please give your attention ladies and gentlemen to the Vesper Boys and Girls Choir, headed by Miss Winnifred Heathcote".

Winnifred Heathcote, a young woman ripely grown to nineteen, led the children of the choir as a profession, after participating as a peer for several years. The young woman had distinguished herself as not only a singer, but a staunch of the faith, and better yet, a favorite of Queen Alice who spent most of her waking hours tending to her Oceanic flock of tender youth.

Miss Heathcote wore her Sunday's best for the occassion, having just finished devotionals at the Mormon Temple a hop and a skip across the cobble stone streets of Old Vesper. As the young girls were known to, Winnifred wore a cream color blouse with the Covenant's fleur-de-lis fashioned at the breast, and obscured her long white legs with a dark crimson skirt, in the style of their Crimson Queen. Ribbons tied their hair back in short pony tails, long and jet black for young Winnifred, though a mixture of mousy brown and blonde for the rest.

"Girls in the front, boys in the back, get to it children!" she quietly ordered, sternly eyeing the little boys taking their positions, as they were known to tug on the pony tails of the maiden in front of them, or shame their fingers with a pinch in choice places at the flank. The eldest boy amongst them was sixteen, a bastard son of the Lordly Acres family who personally terrorized Miss Heathcote in her younger years with the choir.

Winnifred Heathcote calmly clasped her hands together at the first sign of her twenty five child alignment, refusing to waste a moment lest they began fidgeting and losing interest of the task at hand. She then turned to face the crowd with a warm smile, curtsying along with the row of young girls toward the silent throng of Wasatch-Cantigians, Engellexic-Cantigians, and a few properly Wasatch Ministers who were lending their ears to this rendition of their National Anthem.

They sang long, loud, and proud. Performing the foreign anthem with near the same tenacity they regularly sung out their own. She smiled again, this time with encouragement to the choir, before turning again to signal that they were finished. Franklin Campbell led an extended applause and approached Miss Heathcote with open arms, embracing the girl, only a few years his junior, with no spare of flirtations.

"Let me get you a drink later this evening, Miss, if it pleases you?" Campbell asked in a whisper. Winnifred considered him for a moment, considering his father the Commander actually, and nodded quietly before softly pushing her suitor back at gaping onlookers. Any show of public affection, real or perceived, could potentially tarnish her flawless reputation as the rising maiden of the Capital. In the event that Lady Geneva Heathcote perished or was otherwise unable to continue as Lady of the Capital, Winnifred was near the top of a very short list to replace her with the grace of the Queen.

 

[Catalina]

Markus Boyack, chancellor of the United Republics of Wasatch, had already came and sat down. He had already seen the wax likeness of his grandfather. Now he was listening to what he thought an all in all good enough presentation of his nations' anthem. Good god he hated that anthem. For seven years, he had listened to that anthem over and over again. He pulled out his flask and took a quick shot and put it back in his pocket. Then he noticed the attractiveness of that young lady singing. He hadn't paid any attention to what that woman's name was, but he figured he'd find it out eventually. He decided a few more sips would go nicely right now.

He knew the majority of these Cantignians were Mormons, and he could tolerate those types of people. There were plenty back in Wasatch. He only wondered whether they could tolerate him. Once the music ended, he walked up to the podium, during the applause. He figured he would take the opportunity to shake Mr. Campbell's hand and let the cameras get a few good pictures for the internet. He waited for Campbell to either motion him to the podium, or walk up to the pdoium himself.

Boyack walked up to the podium. He cleared his throat and brought up his best smile.

"Fellow friends and citizens. I and my colleagues are today welcomed here at my fir- well second favorite nation." He said with a little joking laugh at the end. He got a decent reaction from the crowd, but he judged that most of their reactions were out of politeness. "Our two nations have much in common. The motivation to become great. The dedication to stay strong and determine the course of Europe. The blood of strong peoples, and together our peoples can be quite beneficial for all of Europe."

The next ten minutes was Boyack bullshitting about how revolutionary forces threaten the foundations of society around the world. And that together Cantignia and Wasatch could help crush terrorism world wide. Then the speech came to a close.

"I hope that here today, myself and Mr. Campbell can help come up with a decisive plan to further our two nations cooperation. Now, I'll let the event proceed, as I'm sure you all can't take any more talk of terrorists." He said with another joking flair. Now he was hoping there was a meal planned, as the applause began. he took another two sips as he exited the podium.

 

[Thaumantica]

The Foreign Office had chosen Aaron Leoman Forger to head the mission to Wasatch some years ago, somewhere around fifteen if his brandy fogged memory recalled. Vesper seemed much whiter and snootier than he remembered it to be, the work of National Democrats. The Vesper he had grown strong and boisterous in was as crass and ill-reputed as Chancellor Boyack was displaying un-apologetically today. But that was many decades ago now, and contrary to what Markus Boyack said, that Cantigny was 'motivated to become great', many in the Capital were quite sure that the Covenant was already great. All of Oceania was smothered by the Covenant's crimson banner, be their racial background Engellexic, Suionian, Vistrasian, or Danish.

Officer Forger stood to receive the Chancellor as he returned, allowing him to retake his seat, and sending a red haired waitress for something harder to wet their palette. "Well said, Lord Chancellor" Aaron Forger confided, "The Foreign Office of these friendly confines regret that our Lady Chancellor could not attend, business with the Empire of Great Engellex required her fleshly presence.". Truth be told, Mister Forger personally regretted Chancellor North's absence, his own business in Wasatch dictated that her fleshly presence escaped even him.

"I would not presume to criticize the Chancellor of Wasatch, but I must advise that your reference to terror was not well received. Perhaps you might recall a certain Prime-Minister of Suionia, Linnea Hjelmer . . Something?" Forger suggested, knowing full well that the woman's named had been Hjelmer-Lindeskog. "Well, this Prime-Minister of Suionia fell prey to Celtic Terrorists in the form of a bomb planted on the fair lady's aeroplane, near the Islands we call the Carolina's, in honor of the Suionian Queen, a few weeks before the Covenant brought the Iron Justice upon those realms in retaliation."

Returning with a towel wrapped bottle of Engellexic Brandy, the red haired waitress curtsied and sent a wink in the Chancellor's direction. 'That red cunt may have been one of the conspirators' Aaron Forger thought to himself as he poured out the brandy, hoping to dull his suspicions with a drink. Some said that Cantignia was destined to run dry before the year was through, and Forger was not one to deny himself the chance to help drain a city's drink stock.

Quiet minutes passed before an Engellexic host of mutton and greens were served with Concordian Honeywine. The Foreign Office instructed the younger Campbell to refrain from leading his audience in prayer, considering the contemporary Mormon crusade for prohibition, and the nature of Wasatch Religiosity being naturally less than Mormon. Many of the properly Cantigian tables held private prayers before digging in to the feast, steering clear of the thick honeywine set before them.

"The best thing about Socialists is that they fight themselves even as they fight us," Officer Forger said dizzily above his two cups, "The brown folk of Muslim Jurzan have parted ways with the Revolutionary Defense Treaty, leaving the Communists a few oil fields short!" he remarked with a chuckle. "We'd be as simple-minded as the Mohammedans, Lord Chancellor, to waste this opportunity.". Privately at least, Cantignia was working to invest itself in the wake left by Communists along those oilfields, but that was not a matter Officer Forger would discuss with the Chancellor at this moment.

"I'd have an alliance with Wasatch, but I am not the Covenant," Aaron Forger sighed, "The greater powers of my Foreign Office are ignorant of your nation's virtue and strength, which is why I elected for this very event. But that doesn't mean we can't begin marshaling a common strength to cast the darkest shadow over Europe that all of us can take pride in. We offer the power of the Crimson Fleet, the Grand Aeroforce of the Covenant, and the battle tested Expeditionary Marines to any cause worthy of the True Peace. What is it that the powers of Wasatch desire, and perhaps as importantly, what does the good Chancellor desire?".

 

[Catalina]

(Sorry its taken so long man, long story haha.)

"Well Mr. Forger, are you really asking what I want... Or what my Country wants?" Markus said with a chuckle. Markus' deep chuckle complemented his size. "What I want is for my nation to finally do what it has to do when it comes with those damn..." Markus was going to finish his racist statement, but decided against it during diplomatic meetings.

"What Wasatch wants and needs is markets, and friends. Our more recent invention is an enzyme that will more properly utilize Butanol as a fuel source. Of course our country has already made the switch to 100% Butanol as of two months ago. However we need to spread the market of it. If your government could promote this fuel, we would most certainly remember it. Also, our manufactured goods are dirt cheap, thanks to our free labor. So if you would like them we can trade them with you too. And, we need to let our enemies in the world know that we have friends, so we'd like to have things in paper you know? Bu tenough of my ranting... what do you have to say Mr. Forger?" Markus said after taking another shot.