[h3]The Letter of Reply[/h3]

[i]To Helena Vortzeria, Chancellor of the Greater Republic of Avalia

I extend my thanks for your compliments and inspiring words. I agree that Sultanate of Tin, and indeed all autocratic and imperialist monarchies, poses a threat to our existence as democratic nations. We must commit to solidarity with one another if indeed we are to survive.

I greatly appreciate your invitation, and I have already begun preparations to depart. I intend to arrive soon after you receive this letter and will gladly celebrate with you this festival of freedom, with the hopes of restoring our positive relations.

-Premier Commissar Yekaterina Velikaya[/i]

[h3]Valkalia, Greater Republic of Avalia[/h3]
[i]September 3rd, 1939[/i]

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting its amber rays across the horizon, when Premier Velikaya's airship arrived at the city of Valkalia, the capital of the Greater Republic. [i]Greater than what,[/i] Yekaterina mused. However, she was certainly impressed by the splendor of the industrial city that lay before her. Seemingly hundreds if not thousands of airships and airplanes either lay on the ground or were docked in the air to the many skyscrapers of the Avalian capital, the glass on which beautifully reflected the sun. As they descended towards the building where they were designated to land, Yekaterina gathered up her staff and personal guards. As the small group waited at the docking bay, the Premier glanced around for one particular man whom she made sure to keep close at all times. She made eye contact with him, and drew closer.

Nahku looked every bit a Tinite: his skin colored like teak or that of the desert sands, and his eyes and hair black like coals or moonless nights in the steppes. He was son of a Sultan and brother to one too, a lordly Mirza, and looked the part of that too: his gaze was long and piercing, he radiated an aura of authority, his face one of power, and his poise revealing confidence and pride the likes of which few know. His garb was magnificient and also unique: blue robes and a matching turban. Outwardly it seemed simple enough, but with a touch the softness of the rare fabric showed its value. From close up one could also observe the fringes of dull, yet real, gold leafings were embroidered in as decorative fringes. The look suited him: mysterious and yet revealing, aging and somewhat decrepit yet still powerful and imposing. Ekaterina disapproved of the richness of his garb, wearing one of her usual officer uniforms, but respected him far too much for that to tarnish him in her eyes.

Nahku noticed her approach and nodded. When she arrived close enough to be heard, the doors began to open and light began filtering in from the outside. The Premier's guards formed behind her, and when the door was about halfway open Ekaterina asked him, "So, how does it feel to be so close to home?"

Slowly Nahku turned to acknowledge Velikaya, for the Mirza did not bark so quickly to the wants of any person. His face was engaged in amused thought, before it was at last molded into a playful smirk. In a deep and musical tone, the Tinite responded in the Premier's language with a richly accented voice, "I do not know whether crossing this border puts me into any more danger than when I was in your capital. Avalia have quarreled with us for centuries, so I do not feel like an 'esteemed guest' here quite so much as I did in Kataylabinsk."

He walked the remainder of the space to the Premier's side, perhaps closer than her bodyguards might have liked. "I do miss the warm sands and dry air. Have you heard that my nephew Babur has claimed the throne? Perhaps under his reign, they will allow me to return again." 

The Premier smiled. "Perhaps. The question remains whether his reign will be as stable as he might wish. Undoubtedly he has cultivated many enemies for himself through his actions, and he must be careful to not traverse too close to the edge of his ship, lest it capsize on top of him."

And with those words, the Premier adjusted her collar and they strode out of the ship into the land of Avalia.

[h3]Volodyna, People's Republic of Kataylabinsk[/h3]

A few seconds after Na’daevus finished his prayer and began drumming his fingers again, the nearby door to the Commissar's office opened and out strode a tall elf wearing the uniform of an operative of the Kataylabinsk Commissariat of Intelligence. He cocked his head slightly upon noticing the waiting Navari, and nodded as if he had concluded something. He strode out without a single word.

Following him to the door was a woman who seemed quite out of place in Kataylabinsk, short, with Yamataian features and long, bright orange hair, who appeared to be in her mid-thirties. She beckoned the Navari Blood Priest to enter her office, and when he did she reflexively looked in both directions and closed the door silently.

When Na’daevus arrived in her office, he would immediately notice that in her darkly lit office, behind her desk, was a wall of screens rising to the ceiling that showed video feeds from various offices, many of them evidently not in Kataylabinsk. The Commissar settled into the simple chair between her desk and the screens. "Do you like it?" she inquired. "I of course have operatives monitoring all these feeds constantly, but I like to keep myself up to date just in case."

"My name is Anjelika Adraneda, and I am the Intelligence Commissar of the People's Republic." She leaned forward across her desk slightly as if she was studying him intently. "I am aware of the general details of your situation with the Silme, but feel free to... enlighten me further."