Grand Survaek Empire / Crowned Republic of Juturna

By the time the ship had been set to anchor the press, though still thick upon the docks and streets of the West Harbor District, was mostly successfully being kept at bay a safe distance from the flagship by the royal guard of the Queen of Juturna, the only cohesive armed unit large enough to keep such a crowd at a respectable distance from the famed Southern hero the city could muster with so little warning as to the arrival of their esteemed guest, and a young woman stood alone on the pier to greet the Grand Admiral upon his arrival, dark curls bobbing lazily about her shoulders in the gentle breeze flowing off the sea. Such a magnificent galleass had not graced the South Shores since the war, and those among the city's population too young to remember the bloodshed of the past gazed upon her with an awe so wickedly plain it could be seen in their wide eyes from the prow of the ship. The fishing boats and trading barges which normally filled the harbor had been called to anchor in the remaining ports and docks of the East Harbor to make a site large enough to shelter the great ship available, and nothing would have lain in the Admiral’s path to shore save clear skies and crystal water as his galleass cut effortlessly through the calm tides.

A beautifully tailored silken gown which fell about the young woman on the pier's figure in a rather immodest fashion shimmered in all the oranges and yellows of the sun overhead, near sheer and more loosely fitting at the sleeves and below the knees and only slightly more concealing about the midriff and in the places it mattered most, though notably tighter in these patches to the golden olive skin beneath, delicate sandals of a gleaming silken material tied in bows about her ankles, and a semicircular diadem more tiara than crown in scope masterfully crafted of soft yellow gold set with three black diamonds across the same number of leaf bladed protrusions in the middle of the piece the only signs of her station she bore about her regal person as she stood, humbly waiting for her guest to make his way down onto the pier before offering a curtsey, a smile warm as sunrise, and welcoming the visitor to her city. "Honored Master of the Seas, I am Queen Kallista Eudokia of House Makris. It is my deepest pleasure to welcome you with open arms to Juturnapolis," her accent was jasmine, lavender, a cool breeze on a warm evening, rich with the flavor of the Northern tongues, confident yet girlish. Her welcome was sincere, however, and it was clear despite their people's differences Admiral Reyid was a welcome guest in the city of Juturna, to her at least. The roar emerging from the gathered masses however was in part angered screams, part joyous cheers, and part indistinguishable cries, jeers or requests, greeting or disapproval, who could say.

The young Queen’s gaze never left that of her esteemed guest as he introduced himself and plainly stated the nature of his visit, wide eyes of amber aglow in the light of the sun above. The place of their meeting to include the location where the trading barges had been cleared to allow sufficient space for the mighty Southern galleass to set anchor were not chosen by happenstance alone, this was the newest, cleanest harbor in the city, furthest Northwest along the coast, and though bustling with activity at all hours of day and night, furthest from Thessaly’s Hill and the rest of Juturna proper. It would be only a few short blocks through town until they were clear of the crowded streets and bottlenecked alleyways of the capital, and on their way to the manor proper, seat of House Makris and the official Court of the Crown Republic. Though Kallista preferred the bustle of the burgeoning capital to her own modest longhall the next hill over, evidenced in part by her having happened to be in the city as her surprise visitor made his unexpected arrival upon the Southern Shores, and generally held court in the ruins of the temple she had come to occupy when but a princess in charge of the daily administration of the city which would one day become her own, it would be expected of her to attend the admiral in a proper throne room, upon the seat her father had held court in nearly so long as she could remember before his passing.

Not to mention there wasn’t a building large enough to house herself, the admiral, his men and her own in Juturna, though if the humble structures of her people fazed Kallista in the presence of a Northern commander familiar with the manses and splendor of the Empire he served it didn’t show upon her face as she performed a second courtesy, more abrupt and far less low as was tradition for the women of Lucente and the people of the Southern Shores when asked to oblige the request of a superior or their representative, her eyes warm and reassuring, never leaving Selman’s own. “The ambassador of our beloved emperor will always be an honored guest at my court. It would be my great pleasure to give you audience, Grand Admiral, but first --, oh, your men must be exhausted, half-starved and weary from the days trials upon this beautiful sea. Would you grant me the honor of resting in my home? I have sent word ahead to have hot baths drawn, fresh linens placed on our guest beds, and a feast prepared for you and your men. My Manor is modest, but kept impeccably clean, the cellars are stocked with wines of good vintage, and the roof is of solid construction. The missionaries who passed through my court not long ago claimed my chef is the finest of the Northern Kingdoms, though I fear all they had tried before reaching me was prepared in the Orcish lands to the North…”

For but a brief moment Kallista could have sworn she saw a flash of doubt cross the older man’s face at her offer of hospitality, but if it surprised her it wasn’t likely to have been reflected upon her own demure visage, at least not for any longer than an instant. It wasn’t uncommon for her to be taken with uncertainty by those she had only just met. Often a supplicant of humble birth or low standing had been visibly perturbed by the genuine care she expressed in her thoughtful deliberations and oft’ remarked generous decrees regarding their requests, and after years of painful inflection and worries over what they must be thinking lay hidden behind her remarks and whether she must seem a generally untrustworthy person she had simply come to accept that she must be strange among monarchs for her genuinely kind nature. It may have lain in the fact that she could remember a time when she wasn’t a Queen or even a princess, but the humble daughter of a merchant connected to the banking house of Makris only distantly, the second cousin of a second cousin or something to that affect, and unlike most every other Queen understood her role as that of an administrator first and foremost, given to prefer counting coins and establishing trade routes, digging irrigation canals and making sure her people had food enough to last through winter to devising battle stratagem and sending boys younger than she herself to their deaths.

Of course, that isn’t to say she wasn’t prepared to do as such if necessary. Each man in her royal guard had killed for her, even the youngest barely of nineteen years counted three slain by his hand, and she had been told on multiple occasions that she was quite the inspiring leader herself, if but a young girl who knew little of the ways of war, Kallista simply avoided the voracious gluttony for bloodshed many of her fellow Northern leaders seemed to indulge in as a rule. The Grand Admiral’s second bow brought a giggle forth from betwixt the Queen’s lips, her own curtsey nearly instinctual after some twenty years of practice she barely noticed when she performed it, something women were expected to offer men and not the other way around, not that it bothered her any. Covering her mouth with her right hand for but a moment she offered her left arm to her guest expecting him to take hold of it as they walked before gesturing to her men with her right. Horses enough to mount a sizable portion of Selman’s men were led forth along with a massive palanquin, large enough to comfortably seat six, draperies of golden silk embroidered in black tied open about the gilded wooden frame, littered by eighteen strapping, barrel chested young men, wearing naught but sandals and cloth trousers to show they bore no arms nor hidden agendas. “Would you and your personal bodyguards do me the great honor of accompanying me to the manor in the royal palanquin, Grand Admiral? I trust my own people completely, but I fear there are those among the crowds who aren’t above throwing rocks or, Aed forbid attempting anything more foolish as we pass them by. My subjects have never attempted to harm me, however, and I believe it might be for the best for us both should we stay near to one another until we reach court. Your honor guard are welcome to ride alongside us, I fear my people are not a horse culture and fewer than one hundred live in and around the capital so some must walk. Two of my own men shall ride at the fore to guide our party, though the rest shall walk along with your own men, if this pleases you?”

Just as soon as their group had climbed aboard the down cushions and silken sheets which comprised the interior of the royal palanquin, first Queen Kallista at the arm of the Grand Admiral, his first mate shortly afterward, the procession began in earnest. With so many capable men hoisting the litter only barely filled past half capacity their nearly five foot ascent into the air was smooth, gentle as calm waves against the hull of a mighty ship, and was a welcome relief from the oft’ jerky motion which accompanied the initial raising of palanquin from the ground upon men’s shoulders. The whinny of horses about them drowned out the raucous drone of the gathered crowd momentarily, and satisfied with the cavalry formation’s solidity the young woman reached about the tethers of the curtains and let them loose, draping the trio in shades of soft gold illuminated by the brilliance of sunlight above. In the center of the pillowed frame rested a bowl of dates, plumbs, figs, grapes more black in shade than the more common reds and purples of the Southern continent, olives both green and black pitted and stuffed with bits of red pepper and green onion, thin sliced white cheese and equally thinly sliced sausage meats smoked and aged to promote a sharp, peppery taste, along with a pitcher of chilled Southern Shores wine, a shade of red so dark it could have been mistaken for black in a different light.

A gilded censer of incense hung from the ceiling as if a mock chandelier, swaying softly with the motion of the carriage and the men who bore her, the soft, gentle scents of fresh lavender mingling with the bittersweet heat of jasmine in the occasional puffs of smoke breathed forth from the holes drilled about the object’s face. “Please, do indulge in the refreshments, though the feast will be magnificent it will be evening before everything can be prepared, and it will be an hour at least to the manor,” the Queen poured wine for the men herself, though she took a sip from each of the crystal goblets herself before handing them to her esteemed guests. It was customary among the people of the Southern Shores to taste first everything provided to guests, after all it wouldn’t do to have the servants poisoning honored company, and in a land such as Lucente it was never certain who the help might be meeting behind closed doors. The better to ensure your own death should an attempt be made upon the guests leaving the servants devoid of their livelihoods and positions at court in order to preemptively dissuade their considering taking money from hidden enemies to poison a certain goblet or cut of meat in the first place. Picking a date from atop the bowl with her right hand, left resting gently upon the right bicep of the Grand Admiral, softly enough so as not to interfere with his ability to hold a goblet or reach for food, the Queen offered a slight bend at the waist to the newcomer, “It is an honor, First Mate Delviu. Tell me, have you been in the Grand Admiral’s service long?” before taking a bite of the fruit in hand, delighting in the sweetness of the date and bitter tang of the crushed almonds which filled it’s pitted core.

Kallista laughed nearly so hard as the Grand Admiral at his recounting of the great siege of Pennius, even managing to let half of the date she had been eating slip from her fingers and bounce clumsily from the cushions to her right out through the drapes to the ground below in her jubilation, only causing her and, quite likely her company should they have chanced to observe the spectacle to laugh all the harder. A single tear had managed to fall from her left eye before the young queen regained her composure and moved to refill Selman and his first mate’s goblet before filling one of her own, regaling the two men with a tale of her own as she poured. “My father once took me on an expedition to Pennius, before the war when I was quite young, -- I so very wanted to see their masked mummers you see, the ones in pied motley? Anyway, when we left he remarked that the only thing as impregnable as their walls were the iron clutches of their customs officers. Perhaps I should establish a trade route with what’s left of their people; should their customs house prove as, ‘impregnable,’ as their walls, with half the grace your first mate showed their fleet, I could stand to make a great deal of money,”.

Looking the first mate over it was hard to believe he was as old as he must have been to have served so many years in the Imperial Fleet. Then again… His eyes spoke of the wearisome years, the eyes of a man who had long since lost that part of men that thrived for adventure, greatness, glory. He had the eyes of a man who couldn’t tell you why he still did what he did, beyond the simple fact that it was all they knew how to do anymore. Her father’s eyes, at least, the eyes which had become his after her mother’s passing. The Grand Admiral, on the other hand, hardly looked like a man in his fifties, let alone eighties, and was quite fun. Kallista never would have expected a man of his taste to live even into his sixties judging by the way he swallowed down wine and food, but he was livelier than most men in their prime, funny, jolly, and never satisfied. He seemed the man who would welcome an enemy to fight, a war to be waged, glory and plunder to be had until the day he died. Perhaps it really was true that laughter is the best medicine. Thirty, even twenty years younger, and she might have courted him. “I must say I am amazed at how well the men of the South age, honored guests. I would not have named either of you a day over fifty, and yet together you have served the empire longer than most men live! Do you think it is the sea air and life of a sailor that keeps you so vibrant and strong? Or are you men simply made of stronger stuff than most?”

The two young women exchanged confused glances between themselves at the Grand Admiral's comments, a seemingly telepathic conversation visibly occurring between them as they considered each of the men's words in turn before curtseying in response to the First Mate's request for fresh water and something to calm Selman's head upon waking, and turning to lead the two Southern men to the apartments of the former king. There was to be a feast upon evenfall, though it was intended as much for the Admiral's men as for he himself, and should he require rest before addressing the Queen in court upon the 'morrow it would be understood and his absence from the feast would not be taken as a slight. In the Southern Shores it was not uncommon for the leader of a force to abscond himself from festivities before official business, seen more as a sign of respect to his leader to abstain from clouting his judgment before acting in the capacity of his liege than an offense to his host, and it was more surprising to the Northern women that he would not require their services in bathing their guest and washing his hair and feet after his long journey than that he would wish for a good night's sleep and something to ease the head and stomach upon waking. Gesturing to a pair of girls no older than ten or eleven Zenais spouted a quick succession of words in the one of the tongues of Lucente presumably to the effect of, "bring a pitcher of fresh water, and something for our guests head," before she and her partner moved to open a pair of heavy wooden doors leading into to the apartments of the King.

The apartments were the most finely furnished in the manor, if a bit Spartan in decorum, eschewing unnecessary luxuries in favor of function and solid craftsmanship as had been the way of Kallista’s father. The antechamber was the only way in and out of the chambers of the King, and was furnished with several feather beds along the walls dressed in black linens and dotted with down pillows and cushions, an open hall leading to a privy and various tables and chairs strewn about, presumably the quarters of the former King’s personal guard, a stone fireplace at the far end of the chamber opposite the hall well stocked with logs of sweet wood and kindling awaiting only a spark to provide what light and heat it may, the center of the room three feet lower than the rest and lined in marble, currently filled with hot water for the men’s bath, the king’s bedchamber itself containing a large four post bed similarly dressed in black linens and down pillows as the beds of his guard, a tall armoire of sturdy dark wood, a small work desk and a single cushioned chair the only comforts it held. “Would our honored guests allow us to wash their feet and pour them water before retiring?” Aspasia asked of Delviu so much as of Selman, knowing her lady would not be pleased with the two handmaidens if they didn’t at least provide this service, a basic courtesy among the people of the Southern Shores.