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In From The Cold
Posted: Feb 7 2009, 08:07 AM
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Imperial Palace, Tzaragrad . . .

The door slammed, snapping Grigori out of his reverie.

“Everything ok chief?”

“No Grigori everything is not ok. Everything is far from being bloody ok. And don’t call me chief!”

“My apologies Excellency.” Question asked, question answered. As he hurried across the small outer office to open the door to the large, plush inner office for his boss Grigori didn’t need a crystal ball to know the Grand Duke was in a foul mood. Clearly the meeting hadn’t gone too well. He followed him into the inner sanctum and closed the door behind them. “What happened?”

Grand Duke Andrey Vardanyan sat behind his vast desk and helped himself to a tall glass of vodka. “My brother is a fool.”

Grigori stifled a gasp, such talk about the Tzar was treason.

“For hundreds of years”, Andrey continued, not noticing his aide’s discomfort, “we have stood alone in the world, masters of our own fate. Now my brother, in his infinite wisdom, has ordered an end to that isolationism. Personally I like isolationism, you know where you are with it. But not my brother, oh no, he can barely hold his own country together and now he wants to open our borders and embrace the brave new world outside.”

Grigori didn’t know what to say, this was big.

“And to make it even worse, who to you think he’s chosen to sort out the whole great mess? Me. You’re looking at the new Minster of Foreign Affairs.” He spat each word out.

Well that explained the foul mood. After years of gambling, womanising and generally enjoying himself the Grand Duke had been given some work to do. “So what do you do now chi . . . Excellency?”

“He wants me to right an open letter to every leader in the region. A letter! What are we? Cavemen? He thinks a traditional touch will set the right tone.”

Grigori was struggling to get his head around any of it. Krajkovia was all he knew. The world outside was a total mystery. “But who is there to even contact Excellency? I mean, where would you even start?”

The Grand Duke smiled at his aide. “You, like the rest of the great unwashed, might be ignorant of the wider world Grigori but we in the elite are not. You think we are that naive to simply ignore everything outside our borders? For years we have had agents scattered throughout the region gathering information, laying low, watching and learning. Now maybe that expensive undertaking can be put to some use.”

“I had no idea . . .”

“Of course you didn’t. Now stop staring like a Norsk loon and go and do something useful for a change. I need you to go down to the Security Bureau and have them give you every piece of information on these”, he pulled a list from his pocket. “The code word is ‘Phoenix’, don’t forget it. Go, I have a letter to write.”


QUOTE
Leaders of Atlantian Oceania,

For too long our nation has stood alone.  For too long we have remained ignorant of those around us.  But the time is right to finally rectify that situation and prove to you all that there is life in the cold north.

On behalf of my brother, Tzar Alexei XIV of Krajkovia, I can declare the borders of the Imperial Tzardom officially open.  We welcome diplomacy, trade, everything being part of an international community entails.  And please accept a case of our finest beluga cavier as a gift to each of you.

Peace and prosperity to you all,

Grand Duke Andrey Vardanyan
Minister of Foreign Affairs
Imperial Tzardom of Krajkovia

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Posted: Feb 8 2009, 05:15 AM
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"What is this? looks like fish poop." David Hawdon, the current Bazalonian PM commented as he looked at the caviar.

"It's beluga caviar, which you would know if you read the note." The Prime Minister's secretary presented him the letter.

"Not my thing." David commented as he put the caviar back on the desk with a face of disgust.

"I'll give it to the dog shall I?" she asked.

"Yes... if it will have it."

"I'll draft up a letter for a reply... Is there anything particular you want me to say?"

There wasn't anything else... Soon a typed draft on the official letter head of the office of Prime Minister was drafted.

QUOTE

Grand Duke Andrey Vardanyan, Minister of Foreign Affairs, Imperial Tzardom of Krajkovia.

Thank you for your gift of the baluga cavier, it was much appreciated. The Prime Ministerialship of Bazalonia welcomes the Imperial Tzardom of Krajkovia to the regional stage. As a token of our wishes for a strong trade and diplomatic relationship. We have sent a young Bazalope, known as a Bazacub. It should be arriving fairly soon. It is a herbivore and eats grasses.

Our minister of Foreign Affairs and Trade will be getting in contact with you shortly to enter into initial discussions.


This post has been edited by Starblaydia on Feb 8 2009, 06:31 AM
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Posted: Feb 8 2009, 01:07 PM
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Inner Courtyard, Imperial Palace. Tzaragrad . . .

“Oh joy, they sent a goat.”

“Technically speaking sir it’s a Bazacub, the juvenile of the Bazal . . .”

“Shut up Grigori.” The Grand Duke tried to massage away some of the growing pain in his temples. This was not exactly how he pictured the Tzardom’s first foray into international diplomacy. “This is what you brought me to see? Are we meant to eat it? Perhaps this is similar to that old country tradition up north where the slack jawed yocals exchange farm animals for women? Maybe they expect us to send the Tzarina in exchange. You know thinking about it, that’s not such a bad swap.”

“I would say it’s just a gift sir, a token.” Said Grigori, tactfully steering the subject back onto more productive lines.

“And what kind of peasant nation sends a goat as a gift?”

“It’s definitely a Bazacub Sir, from . . .” He checked the note. “Bazalonia.”

“I guess we should thank them for their gift. Scrawl something down, sign my name and send it on. And Grigori, remove the Bazagoat. Shoot it, eat it, I don’t care. Just get rid of it.”


QUOTE
Thank you for your generous and most novel gift.  It has found a home in the Imperial Zoo.  We look forward to hearing from your Minister of Foreign Affairs and Trade.

Grand Duke Andrey Vardanyan
Minister of Foreign Affairs
Imperial Tzardom of Krajkovia


This post has been edited by Krajkovia on Feb 8 2009, 01:08 PM
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Posted: Feb 8 2009, 11:17 PM
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Adelaide Stinson was enjoying the caviar that her husband, President Andrew Stinson had received along with the message from Krajkovia. Adelaide had come from a wealthy Ixanian family, and was used to such things as caviar.

President Stinson read the letter while his wife ate, and penned out a reply on Presidential letterhead.

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Office of the President of the Free Republic of Lamoni

To: Grand Duke Andrey Vardanyan
Minister of Foreign Affairs
Imperial Tzardom of Krajkovia

We would like to first thank you for the excellent Beluga Caviar. It was excellent.

Accordingly, we will be sending you a bottle of Lamodka (Vodka) with this message.

I have personally authorized the Foreign Minister to open initial talks with your excellency at your earliest convenience.

Signed,

Andrew Stinson
President
Free Republic of Lamoni
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Posted: Feb 9 2009, 07:24 AM
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OOC: Hopefully to catch anyone before they post anything else here! I tried to fight it but I think i'm going to put this topic on the back burner for a bit and bring the Autocracy back to life. I never liked how it just fizzed out (RL's a pain!).

Apologies to Baz and Lamoni. Feel free to keep the cavier.
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Posted: Feb 9 2009, 07:32 AM
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EDIT: Oh you bugger, Hyp!

"It's nice when people come out of isolation, isn't it?" Tiberius mused as he placed the letter back onto his desk. Starblaydia's own period of isolation had been under Viannor's evil regime. Isolated, that was, except for the region-wide war which Tiberius had soon put a stop to upon his return to the Praetoran Palance. "What would you advise?"

It was a fairly important decision for his eldest son to be included on. Tiberius did not believe in throwing people in at the deep end for any job. They needed to be informed, aware and prepared for a life's work, as the title of Lord-Protector most surely was.

Curzon Starblayde, now sixteen and the heir apparent to his great father, considered the offer from Krajkovia for a few moments.

"They're a dictatorship, right?" Curzon began, "like..."

"Like we used to be," Tiberius nodded, allowing the boy's thoughts room to roam, without allowing his son to get into deep water by shooting his mouth off. Better that he, Tiberius, should shoulder any disdain for unhelpful comments such as that. He hoped that Curzon would recognise what he'd just demonstrated, but he wasn't too concerned. The boy wasn't quite at that level yet. "Go on."

"So the last thing they'd want is people like us coming over all in their faces and telling them how it is," he paused, "how it should be... how we think it should be."

"That is right," Tiberius nodded, remembering how irritated he was by the calls of other nations to allow Starblaydia to develop totally democratically, "though how does that help us?"

"It'll mean they expect, like, reverence and people to work in their ways," Curzon thought out loud, "but he mentioned ignorance, which means they're now open to other possibilities to make themselves better?"

Tiberius smiled enigmatically.

"So we need to," Curzon carried on, taking his thoughts to their conclusion, "thank them for their gift and send something back in return. Orcinus, the black label?"

"Hell, no," Tiberius said with a friendly shake of the head, "there's not much we know about this culture, of course, but there are indicators: A Tzardom, the caviar, the naming culture. There'll be peasants, peasants for crying out loud, who will want to get away from toiling on the probably infertile fields all day by getting totally smashed. They'll probably grow potatoes or wheat or something similar, from which the easiest thing to distill is...?"

"Vodka?"

"Bingo," Tiberius said, "if we send them vodka, what sort of message are we sending? Even the prime, premium, black label stuff that might be equivalent to what the top guys drink, they'll dismiss it as foreign rubbish even - especially - if it's better."

"So what do we send, then?" Curzon asked.

"What's Starblaydia's other primary export that makes a great gift?" Tiberius asked, to the bemusement of his son, who clearly wasn't going to answer this one, "it's from our minds, it's our creativity, our intellectual property, our designs."

Curzon looked blank.

"Are you aware how many national teams have contracts with ediraf?" Tiberius asked, "there are more teams wearing the ediraf cross than any other shirt in the world. That says something about Starblaydi design, marketing and production. Need to make money, improve your - probably rubbish - economy? Use the powers of the mind, rather than the strength of the arms, to work the skill in the hands. Here, with a complimentary football shirt, personalised for Vardanyan and Fourteen, of course, we demonstrate so many things, rather than just 'oh look, our national drink is the same as yours'."

"That's bloody clever," Curzon said, "how do you know they'll read all of that into it?"

"That's for our diplomats to bring up, impress upon and aid them in realising," Tiberius said, "besides, Stinson is also bound so send some of that Lamodka crap."

This post has been edited by Starblaydia on Feb 9 2009, 07:33 AM
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