The entourage of King Matthias was not an extravagant one. A dozen of the Royal Guard, fully outfitted, and a few advisors and personal friends encompassed the fullness of the king's peers as he journeyed on the long voyage over the seas to eastern Serranthia. Although His Grace was infamous for his vanity projects in Aontas, he was, in truth, privately quite austere. The image he portrayed to the public was a calculated one, intended to give those more fiery and passionate of Aontas a similarly impassioned leader to rally around. Those more wise of his people would instead support their king for his accomplishments, in spite of the vanity. It was an arrangement that both kept his people happy and allowed him to easily, and painlessly, adapt his behaviour in the future should public opinion turn.
The opinions of his people toward his leadership were the farthest thing from King Matthias' mind, however, when he saw his first glimpe of the famous, and infamous, sprawling city of Foedinei. His Grace was an avid explorer in youth, but had not yet visited the Grand Survaek Empire. He intended to make the most of his first visit, and the illustrious capital was as good a place to start as any.
The Port of Foedinei was a dense, bustling complex of docklands that constituted a virtual city in and of themselves. For the occasion of King Matthias' visit, the City Guard had made a painstaking effort to clear a path for the royal guest; they were relieved to find that their charge's entourage was easily small enough for the path to accommodate. King Matthias' party would proceed through a modest street flanked by rows of Foedinei City guardsmen in traditional uniforms, bearing glaives, cuirasses, maroon robes, and steel helms with chainmail headdresses. Soldiers reminiscent of the Empire at its peak.
After several minutes of travel, the visitors reached the first of Foedinei's Great Squares, wide open save for an enormous bronze statue of Emperor Vokoryn II riding atop a horse in the center. It was here that his Majesty Emperor Shayaer Khaitis awaited his honored fellow monarch with his own party: two-dozen Byrnian Guardsfolk in modern dress uniforms (both men and women participated in this prestigious unit, according to longstanding Byrnian custom), two strong bannermen carrying oversized imperial flags on tall poles, Grand Vizier Ayan Sujjid in resplendent green and gold, Empress Huj Jalayiku in her heavy dark red robes pratically drowned in gold embroidery, the young Crown Prince Vokoryn III dressed similarly to his mother, and of course the Emperor himself in a blue military uniform decked with medallions and -most importantly- wearing the Red Cap atop his head.
It was an occasion like none before it, with journalists doing everything in their power to inch as close to the scene as possible from among the crowds or the windows of nearby buildings. Cameras clicked and flashed from every direction as Emperor Shayaer Khaitis bowed for his guests, followed in kind by his family and followers.
His Grace King Matthias, D.G., King of Aontas and of Follam, gave a short, respectful bow in turn. He then smiled, and offered a more pedestrian gesture to the Emperor: a simple hand-shake between monarchs. Shayaer Khaitis, Sword of Aed and Grand Survaek Emperor, was not too proud or stern to smile and return his guest's gesture. He walked forward and reached to clasp Matthias' hand for a firm if somewhat restrained shake. Matthias patted the Emperor's shoulder with his spare hand, giving a friendly laugh until the cameras had gotten their fill of a royal handshake. "It is excellent to meet you and your family. You've a blessingly warm country, I can already tell." The King gave a look around to survey the scene, taking in the city scape and the dress of the guardsmen. "Beautiful, as well."
The Emperor gave his counterpart a respectful nod before replying, "You do the Khaitis dynasty and the Grand Survaek Empire justice with your words. I believe Aed will smile on our processions during your stay, and I pray on your own people in your own land as well. Do remind me to return the favor and make my way to Aontas before too long." He grinned.
"A pleasure and an honor to meet you, friend of our dynasty," added the Empress, nodding in the King's direction and offering him a warm smile like that of her husband. "I only regret not being able to meet your own kin, and I do hope his Majesty my husband's proposal will rectify this."
Matthias gave a half-restrained chuckle at the thought of the Emperor of Survaek visiting Aontas, the cold winds chilling him to the bone and carrying those more flowing of his vestments off to sea. The king's own uniform was distinctly usual for any Aontan of sufficient class—a nice suit, the only overtly royal imagery a large pin bearing the coat of arms. Usually the suit was covered by a black double-breasted jacket, but Matthias had wisely taken that off along the voyage once the heat and humidity had rendered it unbearable. Survaek was not the most accomodating place for Aontan attire, evidently. "I'll be sure to do that." Matthias heartily responded, then added, jokingly, "I'll have a tan by the time I'm back in Kienne. Maybe once you retun from your future trip to Aontas you'll be a tad bit paler."
The King then turned to the Emperor's lovely wife, and gave an understanding nod. "My extended family is a crew of characters. I'm sure you'd have found their company engaging, to say the least. And this..." Matthias eye was caught on the Crown Prince, "...must be your own kin. The future Grand Survaek Emperor."
Vokoryn III was making headway in his education on proper court etiquette, and his father was pleased to see that the boy bowed a second time to the King almost instinctively. "It is a great honor," he replied to the older man, perhaps just a little too sternly. It would take some time for him to inhabit his status comfortably in public like his father did. But for now, his conduct was acceptable enough. Soon enough, he would be able to trade his flowing robes for the more modern, military look of a grown man.
Happy with the way things were going, the Emperor motioned for his esteemed guest to follow him. "Please come, let us make our way to the palace so we can hold a discussion at length. I'm sure the crowds and the reporters have had their fill." Taking the cue, the Byrnian Guard turned face in near-perfect unison, ready to march back to the Palace District.
---
The pair of monarchs enjoyed another, longer bout of idle chatter, and Matthias more than a little sight-seeing within the palace, before the time came for the two to speak privately. They found themselves alone together in a relatively secluded area of the palace grounds, a number of the Byrnian Guard a short distance away to prevent intrusions. The King idly examined a depiction on the wall of a famous figure of Survaek's history while he broke headway to the Emperor on a topic of great importance. "I take it my tour won't include Keyvah, or the Honnerian oil fields?"
The Emperor raised an eyebrow at his counterpart. "It isn't on the itinerary we negotiated, but if you would insist on visiting—".
"Not at all." the King interjected, turning his head to face the Emperor once more. "I would rather the defining moment of this visit in the eyes of the media be our shaking hands at the base of Mount Safu, not a god's-forsaken Serranthian field full of destroyed oil-jacks and the blood of executed prisoners of war."
It seemed the Imperial guest would not be pulling any punches during this visit. Emperor Shayaer would have to keep his guard up. "The war is over, esteemed King," he stated with a half-smile. "Where there was destruction and despair, there is now reconstruction and new hope. But I concede that the region of South Raethon wouldn't be the most...charming of possible stops."
Matthias smirked. "Just about the least charming of all, I'd wager. You have been most accomodating for this visit, so I would apologize for my forwardness, but I have always found the direct approach to be the most sensible, at least when there is an opportunity to stray from prying eyes. Was it on your word that the Golden Guard was shot?"
The direct approach...Shayaer could work with that. "No, not on my word," he replied truthfully. "It was the prerogative of Surv-Akur commanders on the scene. I do not believe it was the best course of action, but I truly believe they did their best to mete out Aed's justice under the circumstances. Crimes against my unarmed, civilian subjects cannot go unpunished."
"I entirely agree," the King began boldly, "that soldiers who butcher the innocent ought face justice. But justice is not something that can be metted out by Surv-Akur commanders on the scene, or by the commanders of any army on any battlefield. Had your men stayed their hands, and brought the activities of the Golden Guard to light, formally prosecuted the commanders and the more eager of their subordinates... then it might very well have been Honneria under an embargo. Justice, I do not need to inform the Survaek Emperor, but shall state for posterity, is not swift. It never arrives before injustice, but it always prevails, in the end. The actions of your men against the Honnerian Golden Guard turned what should have been an issue for Honneria, a publicity crisis, into a crisis for Survaek. The commanders you now defend out of pride are the men responsible for the army of two million men ready to advance against Foedinei as we sit here discussing morality. That army is justice. The actions in Southern Raethon were not, on the part of either side."
Shayaer chuckled softly. "You have a good heart, my friend. Have you considered a career in the clergy? The Vaekirate Courts could use more men like you. But of course, that would hardly be appropriate for someone of your blood and status." His tone returned to a more serious note. "That two million man army would be after my head either way, good King, they simply happen to have a convenient excuse. I believe war is coming, and I will not deliberately sap the ranks of the Surv-Akur of skilled and loyal commanders because they executed justice a little too soon for the sensibilities of Varian philosophers. The Vaekir has already been consulted on this issue, and while he finds the events regrettable, he issues no condemnation, only a statement to the effect of avoiding such events in the future. If your own churches and schools have alternative judgments, that is for them to decide and not for your or any other nation to impose."
The King of Aontas continued onward, turning his attention towards a different figure on the walls. He spoke not as though he was speaking to a child, but also not as if he was speaking to an Emperor. With each vowel he enunciated he did so matter-of-factly, as if each sentence was an arithmetic problem that he could decipher at a moment's glance, but nonetheless needed to wade through, to show his work, like the children in Aontas finishing their math problems. It was as if he did not speak, but think aloud. "I am not a moral man. I am not a man of God. If the people of Aontas desired a tyrannical butcher, a sword, who would do nought but strike against those they hated and take that which they coveted, that is what I would be. They are not so base in the north, however. The Aontans desire peace. They desire a world where nations live in harmony, and all work sensibly towards their own devices, leaving their neighbours be. I am the ruler that Aontas wants, not because it is the man that nature deigned me to be, but because it is the man I must be. I wear a suit and behave as a friendly uncle because that is the sort of figure they imagine when they think about who is most fit to rule Aontas. If I behaved any differently, you'd be speaking to a president right now. I do not care to what severity the punishments imposed on your generals affect Survaek's military capabilities. The Empire can be as strong as you make it, and unless you decide to take the unimaginably unwise decision of invading Varius, it will be no cause of concern for me, or for my government. What concerns me, because it concerns my people, is injustice. The actions that were undertaken by your men were injust. Morality does not enter into play—they were simply against the rules. Have whichever general involved you think is the least competent stripped of rank, or beheaded, whatever the punishment is for your people. Do that and there will be no cause for any pressures, diplomatic, economic or otherwise, to be levied against Survaek. This is not a threat or a warning or a negotiation. I am informing you of what the consequences will be for the multitude of different responses at your disposal. Which you decide is best for your own purposes is your choice. Do as you will, and I will do as I must."
The emotion in Emperor Shayaer's face faded as his guest went on with his monologue. The Khaitis could admire the rhetoric of the Aontan, but he couldn't help but be skeptical. "The Survaekom tyrant, I see. Excellent choice of Varian literary template. Did you get that from the 19th century travelers and their books of tall tales, or from the anthropologists of today and their works on the 'natural character of the races'? You claim to have no morals, only rules, and you do well with your mathematical tone, but your
words, they drip with morality. They contain in them an entire theology of good and evil!" Now Shayaer was clearly feeling again, bearing a full grin towards his guest. "Where do your people get their idea of justice? From their pigmentation? From their warm clothes? From the obscure tracts of university-funded philosophers? Or perhaps what you believe to be
following their codes is in fact the very act of
creating them yourself."
Matthias was impatient, but spoke as he always did in private quarters, without undue bombasity. "The origin of Aontas' moral compass is nearly as irrelevant as my personal feelings towards you or your personal feelings towards me. As I have stated, this is not a negotiation. There are several options for you to take, each with their own consequences, and it is your duty as Emperor to decide which is best for you, for your people, and for the office that you inhabit and would likely wish for your son to one day inhabit. There isn't much more for us to discuss, at least as far as matters of state." His Grace's demeanour all at once changed, his stance becoming looser and his voice more impassioned. "From what era does this piece date?" he asked, focusing the fullness of his attention once again on the second painting to decorate the wall. It was much larger than the modest portrait he'd examined earlier, occupying nearly the entirety of the wall.
The Emperor sighed and chuckled once again. This King Matthias was truly one of a kind, and strangely disarming. "This is one of the great Historical Tapestries of the Yvorian Era. It details the rise of Admiral Selman Reyid, the most famous of Yvor's commanders, beginning with his departure from the Southern Tribes as a young man and going on through his personal war against the pirates of the Audejjai Sea, his promotion into the Surv-Vyaez, and his countless victories in the Great Northern Conquest." The rich tapestry flowed from event to event seamlessly, and it was so dense with scenes and miniatures that someone uneducated in its origins might have no idea what was going on.
Of course, Shayaer would have to address the prior subject as well. "Very well, if this is not a negotiation, then I suppose there is no point in arguing over morals and justice. I believe I can arrange something for appearance's sake, if I frame it as a response to the Vaekir's official statement. Select some of the aging captains in the ranks of middle officers, pin the act on them, and demote them to the ranks of lower officers. Would this suffice for the people of Aontas?"
The King turned to the Emperor for a moment, smiled affirmatiely, and then immediately turned back to the tapestry. Selman Reyid's name was one every citizen of Survaek knew. Such was the legend of Yvor that even his underlings were legends in and of themelves. Matthias hoped to achieve the same, or greater, prestige, from his own people. To be so well known that the men he entreated with would be known for having once met him. "Let's move back to the main area of the palace, shall we? We have a long journey ahead of us, and if I take this much time to examine every piece I'll return to Kienne in a casket."
Emperor Shayaer Khaitis couldn't help but give a hearty laugh. "Aye, and if I'm absent too long, I might return to find the succession happened without me! I'd like to at least see my own son's coronation, if I live long enough to abdicate on my own terms." With that, the duo of monarchs changed course for the Great Council chamber, where their companions awaited them.
Mount Safu, the highest point of the Grand Survaek Empire, visited by King Matthias on his tour of the Imperial territories.
The pair of monarchs would eventually proceed on their planned tour, travelling throughout the Grand Survaek Empire. It took them, via a lengthy but pleasant lengthy steamboat ride, to Byrnia and Kafu, cities Matthias had only read about, where His Grace would admire more Survaek cultural treasures and shake hands with local leaders. The tour's conclusion was the obvious one: a portrait of the two monarchs, the famous Mount Safu, Survaek's highest point, in the background. If the world had seemed tense before, it would now seem less so, as the two political rivals smiled and shook hands for cameras galore.
