"One does not simply walk up to Stonepeak!"
"Errr... why not?"
"Because," Inwin forced out with a smile, "that would be in-eloquent."
Advisor Inwin Selemont had arrived in Torivian far ahead of schedule, but since then, everything had been tumbling downhill. First their carriage broke down. Then it took days for the men to travel to the nearest village and retrieve a replacement wheel. Then all of the men who made the journey caught some sickness from the locals and had to be left with the town's doctor.
Now Inwin was about to enter Stonepeak Keep with only one bumbling idiot named "Norbert" at his side. That was hardly an entrance fit for Sinverland! He'd need more people with more fanfare, and more display! Selemont gripped to the violet pendant hanging around his neck and issued a silent prayer to nobody in particular.
"Listen, Nobert, very carefully..."
His speech started, as always, with "Do you know who I am?" It didn't get any less arrogant from there. Inwin was sure to dig up every royal favor he ever earned; every friend in power he ever made. And by the Paragons, he would dare to bring them all down on you if his exacting demands weren't met.
"Fine, fine," Nobert finally said, "I'll go tell the embassy what you need."
"What? We have an embassy here? Why did nobody tell me this earlier?"
"It's a very long walk, sir."
Inwin clutched on to his pendant a little tighter.
A full two hours later, his requested help had finally arrived from the embassy, wherever it was. Thank the Paragons. Inwin entered the Palace as a representative of his nation rightly should- drawing all the attention to himself.
His four Sinver escorts wielded engraved trumpets with the same importance as a soldier wielding his weapons. They wore armor, too, of the softest silk clothing, all arrayed in shades of blue or white. Their backs were straight, their steps were measured. But their manicured nails and their complacent smiles did not distract from the hardness in their eyes- each one had a stare that said "I am here on a mission." The musicians guarded Inwin, one man and one woman on either side of him, trumpets tied at their hips like swords.
Just as the Sinver brigade was approaching the beautiful white throne, Selemont heard a voice speak through even whiter cloth. "Your Imperial Highness. Galmha has arrived to pay its respects."
Ah, of course the disciplined northerners would arrive first.
Inwin strolled up elegantly before the throne... and slightly to the right, standing to the side of the cloth-covered Galhma delegate. "As has Inwin Selemont of the Sinverland Kingdoms, your Highness." The purple cloak swirled about as he bowed. His jewelry jingled just a bit.
Galhma is ineffable. It has been Sinverland's neighbor for time immemorial, but a spine of those impassable mountains has forged an eternity of difference between them. Galhma is harsh and cold, where Sinverland is soft and cool. Galhma is prized for archers and warriors, where Sinverland is known for fine wines and silver jewelry. Galmha has groups pushing for further independence, where Sinverland relies ever more on Torivian. Selemont did not understand them. Selemont did not expect to understand them.
But he did understand their language, and that was something.
With a nod in their direction, he said "I greet you on behalf of the Kingdoms of Sinverland, northern neighbors," in his politest Galhmese.
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