[colour=gold][u][h1][centre]Empire of Violette[/centre][/h1][/u][/colour]
[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/fRiTWvK.png[/img][/centre]
[hr][centre][h3][u]Cercle Internationale, Confluence, Empire of Violette,[/u][/h3][/centre]

Mr. Droulez was a popular man in the city of his birth. Everyone here loved him, from the simple to the fancy; plain, dirtied worker's caps and noble ladies' elegant headdresses alike were taken off to him each time he walked down the city's streets, a national hero in the flesh, the man that saved the empire from the Victorian Mutiny. The so-called 'Droulez Affair' may have soiled then both Governor and Commander Droulez's reputation back in Sandao, but here, he was revered—all the more, even, ever since the Empress had controversially plucked him from power. The white stone pillars of the offices and embassies lining the International Circle were as gorgeously white as Droulez's esteem among the Confluenceen: pristine as all could be. The shining morning sun lit all of the masterfully crafted diplomatic mansions beautifully, but most prettily of all did it illuminate the Embassy of the Imperium of Hiron. Rising over the back of the Hironese ambassador's quarters, the sun framed the double-doors to the elegant residence as though they were the gates of heaven. Tempted as he was, though, Mr. Droulez—dressed in high-class civilian attire and proudly wearing a gleeful grin—did not enter. Instead, the seasoned war veteran turned his gaze left, to the three men of the Gendarmerie exiting a neighboring police building, two of them helping each other carry a table, and the third lugging behind him two wooden chairs. It was a beautiful day, and Mr. Droulez supposed his business with the Hironese might as well take place outside.

With the table placed directly along the border of the Hironese Embassy's front lawn, Droulez took his seat on the Veletian side, waiting in his chair for the two uniformed soldiers to bring back refreshments from inside their compound. The third, meanwhile, calmly walked up to the front door of the Hironese embassy and gave a stern knock. Standing away from the door afterwards to shout into the open window on the embassy's second floor, the officer called out, "Mr. Droulez has arrived for his trial!" in a distinctly high-class dialect of Veletian. Already, a small crowd of passersby had gathered, observing Droulez sipping his tea on an awkwardly placed table and an army officer making a commotion on the front steps of the embassy. This had the potential to be interesting.