An Throne of Silver

Urth
1

(OOC: This is a more generic letter, in reality the letters are more specific but for sake of easiness for this rp what you see here is in general form of letter that be sent to your nation’s leaders. It is an open rp for everyone.)

It is with the greatest honors that I, His Royal majesty Wilan I of the Kingdom of Blåskog from the House of Torhall, would like to invite you to my coronation and the national celebration which will be held here afterwards. Which will be through a banquet and festivities in my castle. It would be a great honor for my nation.

As the traffic in Kungstad would be in much higher volume at the day of the coronation held on the 20th April, 2024, I have been informed and told by my coronation staff that I should advise you to come one day or two prior to the coronation. I will also request that any large accompanying delegation included in this invite be information that needs to be given to my government. Same with any extra needs that we need to be aware of so that my government can accommodate you.

I look forward to welcoming you to my nation, to my kingdom to the first days of a new Blåskog. One which will be celebrated in full.

With warm regards,

His royal majesty, Wilan I of Blåskog and the House of Torhall. Soon to be High Gothir of Carlist Gustafism

—

Wilan let out a small sigh of relief as he finished the last of the letters. Having made a large tower of just letters which soon be sent to every corner of this seemingly cursed Urth. It was written in all the languages he personally knew, with there being few others prepared by his translators to be sent to those from nations he was less accustomed to in language and culture. He had stayed up late to ensure every letter was done as professionally and formal as possible. With the exceptions of two letters, one for Jørgen Bjørn and the other for his little sister Esta. He could easily text both, but some formality was needed for official invites.

Each letter had the Blåskovian and Carlist symbol on them, as they were sealed. That of a hammer with a crystal in the middle of it. The representation of the main Gustafist sub branch in Borea, and one which most Ulvriktruars on the continent followed. Though the young king was hardly the most religious man, his father had ruined spirituality in a sense, it was still something his country held as important. Though he couldn’t help but wait to get the chance to get back at the clergy of his country once he had enforced all the reforms he wanted to make. Though thoughts quickly faded as he heard his office door open, seeing the face of a little boy poke his head in.

“Pappa you doneee? I want to play with you! My new friends went to take a nap…” The boy said, giving an annoyed pout as he looked up at his father.

Wilan couldn’t help but chuckle as he stood up from his chair. “Alright, Alright. I’ll play with you for a little bit.” He said in a warm tone as he walked towards the door, easily picking up the boy as he walked out the office and towards his son’s bedroom. “But you gotta get to bed soon, hear me Eric?”

“But pappa the dragons won’t kill themselves!" The little kid put his hand up as if holding an invisible sword as he was carried by his father. “We need to go on an adventure to get rid of them! We need to genocide the dragons!”

Wilan just shook his head in amusement, his laughter echoing around the halls as he listened to his son talk about the importance of the murdering of dragons.

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In the serene tranquility of the royal garden, Queen Adriana Mula of Midori-Iro delicately tended to the vibrant blooms that graced the landscape. The soft rays of the morning sun danced through the lush foliage, casting a warm glow over the verdant surroundings.

As she carefully tended to the blossoms, Adriana was joined by her first lady-in-waiting, who approached with a sealed envelope in hand. With a gentle smile, the lady-in-waiting presented the envelope to Adriana, her expression filled with quiet reverence.

“Your Majesty, a missive has arrived from the Kingdom of Blåskog,” she announced softly, her voice carrying a sense of anticipation.

Adriana accepted the envelope, the weight of its contents palpable in her grasp. With a nod of gratitude, she broke the seal and withdrew the letter within, her eyes scanning the elegant script that adorned the page.

“My dear Queen Adriana,” the letter began, penned with regal flourish. “It is with great pleasure that I extend to you and your esteemed entourage an invitation to attend my upcoming coronation ceremony.”

As Adriana read the words, her heart swelled with a mixture of honor and humility. This invitation marked her first official engagement on the international stage since ascending to the throne of Midori-Iro, and she was deeply moved by the opportunity to represent her nation on such a prestigious occasion.

With a sense of gratitude, Adriana turned her attention to the list of attendees accompanying the letter. Among them were her loyal Chamberlain, the steadfast Herald, and a select cadre of the Emerald Shield—a secret 10-man squad whose unwavering dedication to duty was renowned throughout the realm.

Beside their names stood those of Adriana’s beloved siblings—Princess Alexandria and Prince Ancil—whose presence would lend an air of familial unity to the proceedings.

With a sense of purpose, Adriana penned her gracious acceptance of the invitation, expressing her profound appreciation for the opportunity to partake in the coronation festivities. She conveyed her eagerness to forge new alliances and strengthen existing bonds with leaders from across Urth, a sentiment echoed by her siblings.

Having sealed the letter with her royal seal, Adriana turned her gaze towards the horizon, her thoughts drifting to the weighty responsibilities that awaited her in the days to come.

Following the dispatch of the letter, the Lily Legislature convened in solemn assembly, their voices echoing through the hallowed halls of the capital. The Speaker of the House presided over the proceedings, declaring that executive power would be vested in her capable hands until the Queen’s timely return from the festivities.

As the official business of the day drew to a close, the Speaker Tanaka approached Adriana with a gentle yet resolute demeanor, their words laced with a sense of camaraderie and concern.

“Your Majesty,” the Speaker began, their tone solemn yet supportive. “As you embark on this journey, remember to watch over your siblings, be cautious of what you consume, and take care of yourself. You are the embodiment of Midori-Iro’s strength and resilience, and your actions will shape our nation’s legacy for generations to come after all.”

Moved by the Speaker’s heartfelt words, Adriana embraced them in a gesture of solidarity, their shared bond as stewards of the realm serving as a beacon of hope in uncertain times.

With a sense of determination and resolve, Adriana vowed to heed the Speaker’s advice, knowing that her duty to her people extended far beyond the confines of the royal palace. Together, they stood as guardians of Midori-Iro’s future, their unwavering commitment to the nation’s prosperity serving as a testament to the enduring power of unity and resolve.

And as they parted ways, they shared a sincere hug and made sure that their earnest motivations would lead them to a successful trip.

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Jariano II picked the letter and read it carefully:

Palacio Real de Marga,
Plaza del Poder s/n,
78001 Marga, Peragen

Yo, Su Majestad Wilan I del Reino de Blascovia, de la Casa de Torhall, tengo el inmenso honor de invitaros a mi coronación y la celebración nacional que tendrá lugar posteriormente. Sería un gran honor para mi nación.

Dado el considerable calibre del tráfico en Kungstad el día de mi coronación —20 de abril de 2024—, se me ha informado desde el personal de la coronación de que os aconseje que vuestra llegada tenga lugar uno o dos días antes de mi coronación. También he de rogar que el envío de cualquier gran delegación que se incluya en esta invitación deberá ser informado a mi gobierno. De igual manera deberá procederse con cualquier necesidad adicional, para que mi gobierno pueda acomodaros.

Esperamos recibiros en mi país, en mi reino, en los primeros días de una nueva Blascovia. Días que celebraremos al completo.

Saludos cordiales,
Su Majestad Real, Wilan I de Blascovia y la Casa de Torhall. Próximo Alto Gothir del Gustafismo Carlista.

The Peragian monarch took some long and quick steps towards his daughter Jariana, who had just arrived with Archon Consort Arlin:

‘What is it, dad?’ Jariana asked, knowing her father had something in mind by the way he was walking.

‘I just got a letter from Wilan of Blåskog, he invites me to his coronation and I wanted to know if you wanna go there instead of myself, or maybe us both.’

Jariana read the invitation and gave Arlin a couple of looks. Arlin smiled, as if he had read her wife’s mind.

‘To be honest, some of those days are marked as “resting time” in my schedule…’

‘Say no more, daughter. I think my presence is symbolic in such an important occasion for our diplomacy, but first I wanted to know if you had a special interest on it. If you don’t, I wanted to go myself so don’t worry about it. Mum will take care of the office those days.’

‘Great, dad! We were about to depart for lunch as I told you, it’s been quite a long time since we hadn’t been in Marga and I want to take Arlin to the restaurant you used to take me on Sundays. See you afterwards!’

Jariana and Arlin parted away from the king, who could hear Arlin talking to Jariana in whispers:

‘When will we tell him?’

‘When we have agreed on a name…’

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(Joint post with Luna)

“To, Peacock

Hey. Normally these types of letters are all meant to be plastered around all forms of formalities and royal procedures. With me calling you his esteemed majesty and gracefully asking you to be part of my grand coronation.

But, well, I hardly think such language is needed between you and I.

I… am sorry for not contacting you earlier, I’ve been dealing with a lot, and I can only assume you have as well. It’s been hectic, ever since my father died. Esta, well, you know how she has been. I think she would be very happy If you came here, I know that I would be at least. There wouldn’t be much of a party without you afterall.

Though I understand completely If you can’t, or won’t. I know my palace doesn’t bring the best of memories, and I doubt my long silence makes this invite the most welcoming. Still, I’d love for you to join the celebration. I’d love to talk to you again, in person. Like old times.

Though not exactly old times, you have a beautiful girlfriend now, and one that just became your prime minister as well! You certainly can’t help going for older partners, huh?

Only teasing. I’d love for you both to come here. I’ll even ensure that little crazy behaves.

From yours truly, Edgy Viking”

_ _

The ever lovely Jarl of Vakrestrender read through the letter a few times, and gave a quick look towards his secretary each time before looking back down at the letter. He would deeply rather not go anywhere near Blaskog and its clear horridness but yet. A small sparkle of hope rests in his chest, hope that maybe East Borea would, no will improve under Wilan. Away from the hateful traits that made the unfortunate half of the land, and perhaps more into a better state that didn’t make even the most depressing movies look like a relaxation restore that his family owns.

“I should ask her about this…” His words trailed off, before making up his mind about not asking her and just surprising her with the news. That way she won’t be able to find a reason for them not to go and see his ex-boyfriend. He wanted to see him, see him in person for once more, to at least tell the truth about why… Well the reason why they broke up before that man was born of an evil spirit gave more than enough reason not to ever visit that forsaken country.

He put pen to paper, without thinking a second thought about it all. Johanna will be pissed at him of course, but nothing he can’t fix. After all Esta would be there and she would be quite a bit of fun to be around when the news cameras are away, perhaps they could become closer and friends with each other. Instead of Esta throwing another whining fit about it all.

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"To his majesty, King Olav I of Norgsveldet and the larger Crown Realm. To the Fylkir of Ulvriktru

It is with the deepest of respect and honor to invite you to my coronation and the celebration that will be held. To have you there to bless my reign and crown like how your father blessed mine.

I recognise that the relationship between our two houses have soured. I recognise the mistakes of my father, and my complicity in it for my silence. I do not seek to ignore that I have played my part, though I genuinely tried to convince my father. To change his policies. Unfortunately he met his end after changing only minor ones.

Despite that, I promise you this. My reign will be one of true change. When I give my oath to my country, to my faith. I will make another one. I will make an oath of reform. The reform of my nation. An oath to you. One which I will be determined to push forward. I know, I know that will be a lot to promise. I know it is easier said than done. But I refuse to back down from the pressures of the nobility. Not after what they did.

As such, I hope you will accept this invite, Olav. I could use your help.

Sincerely,
His majesty, King Wilan I of Blåskog, from the House of Torhall"

_ _

A heavy sigh left the Norgsveltian king’s lips as he leaned his back against his office chair. Closing his eyes for a moment as he thought over the invitation. To say that he had a deep dislike towards Blåskog and its institutions was to put it mildly. That not to mention the personal hatred he had over the late king, over Carl. As cruel as it is to say, he was genuinely happy that he is dead. That king was less of a man, and more a sick pathetic creature pretending to be a man. The perfect puppet for Blåskog’s nobility. It is why he didn’t buy the story Wilan was pushing. Why would they kill their own puppet? It didn’t make sense.

His agents had ruled out NIB and LFIS involvement. It lacked the brutality of the former and lacked the efficiency of the later. It was a matter he pondered for a while. He opened his eyes, giving a look towards the letter laying on his wooden desk.

Once again letting out a sigh. He might not like it, but Wilan might push some genuine reforms to Blåskog. To make the endless darkness that was East Borea seem less endless, to perhaps even bring some light to it. And if that is the case, the decision to not bless the coronation would not only be a break of centuries of tradition. It would be a foolish message to send the world. His ancestors have blessed autocrats, why not be the one to bless a reformer? One which can put Blåskog to the path of democracy. Grabbing his pen of dark red color with pure gold scripture on it. One which he owned during his time as High Jarl of the Federation. With him writing his acceptance to the invite soon after. He did promise Wilhelmina that he should give Wilan a chance, so at least both of them should be there.

7

In the middle of a quiet night in Koyukuk, Elu Dayarobi sifted through some papers on his desk. A sudden knock on his door disrupts the businessman’s workflow, “Come in.”

Entering the office came Shina Akala, an assistant at the Dayarobi Textiles Company.

“Mr. Dayarobi, there’s a letter for you,” Shina handed Dayarobi a small envelope with an ornate seal on the front, “It’s something about a coronation overseas.”

With a piqued interest, Dayarobi opened the letter and read each line of the invitation.

Dayarobi nodded his head, “Oh, Carl’s kid!”

“Will you be going?” asked Shina.

“Of course, you never know what kinds of opportunities present themselves at events like these.”

“I’ll get your things ready,” Shina left the room to find a travel bag.

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(Joint post with Luna)

”To Jeanne Pierre, the esteemed Federal Prime Minister of the Crowned Socialist Federation of the Southern Coast of Lapérouse.

It is with a deep honor to send this letter to you. I recognize that my country’s relationship with yours is to put it mildly. Bad. I will not ignore that glaring fact, and that we have had our issues with your fellow RCEU member of Nystatiszna for a while now. But I am writing this letter as a request of understanding between the two of us. I am not seeking imperial expansions like that of my father and his foolish ambitions. No, in my reign I want to seek cooperation between Borean states. I want to work with Nystatiszna, not destroy it.

I understand if you’re still hesitant, but I promise that I am seeking reform for my country. Not just domestic, but also external. Together I believe we can revitalize our nation’s old historical ties. But this time not in an unified seeking of religious expansionism, but rather one for cooperation and peace. Borea doesn’t need to be a continent of conflict and autocracies, one which I promise that through my reign I will end.

I hope you accept this invitation, as a sign of the beginning of a new era for our two nations relationship. One that will come at the same time as the greatest reformation of my nation is to occur.

Sincerely,
His majesty, King Wilan I of Blåskog, from the House of Torhall”

_ _

In the utmost politely terms, Madame Pierre would rather see Blaskog burn into a pile of ash and scattered to the nine realms. The mention of historic ties, a history Côtois public held disdain for. Lapérousian legacy, in virtually every case where the it is invoked or implied it is always in a negative context. Be it foreign or domestic implication of Queendom of Lapérouse. Diplomatically it was a blunder, but it was a cultural misunderstanding at worst. Something to move past, but keep in mind.

Now the death of his father on the other hand, that was no small subject within the intelligence community in the Federation, both official and unofficial. The LFIS have done an investigation into itself and its more ‘unofficial’ partners to see if they themselves killed the old tyrant. It of course didn’t match how they usually dispose of the disposable, it didn’t match their standards of effectiveness when it came to it and their unofficial partners wouldn’t have been in position to do such. They didn’t have to do an investigation into the NIB, Matriarch Ingrid called her to see if the Federation had him handled, which led to an awkward conversation where the two leaders asked each other if they killed the elf. Not to mention Carl was found choked to death, which is not brutal enough for the monsters in trenchcoats to have a hand in. Spirits around them know if the NIB did it, the Blaskovian palace would be in flames or splattered in gore.

If the LFIS did it, there would be something less personal than choking, a bomb or a bullet. As she was assured by the agency’s head at least. Quick, fast and hard to track down, with always having misdirecting evidence to muddy the waters of any investigation. Regardless of who actually did it, the dragon was rotting corpse and a new pompous hatchling took the throne. Monarcho-Socialism isn’t the most individualistic of ideologies to say the least and neither was Côtoise culture after all what are nations but collections of societies and the belief that one person could make a change that suddenly makes an autocratic nation like Blaskog into a democracy is a liberal fantasy.

There would be reforms of course, but not meaningful ones in the long term. Blaskovian as a culture and society wouldn’t ever allow it. Not without blood and turmoil. Perhaps this prince is wanting just that, though idealistic liberal-democrats are rarely willing to spill it. Adding to all the more questions she has, questions that could be answered if she waited patiently for the various intelligence agencies to perform their duty and gather it.

However, it would be a wasted opportunity and the Federation seldom wastes an opportunity. While this new king is certainly up to some sort of authoritarian scheme or two. His brother, Torster appears to be, at least according to available intel on him, an actual democratic true believer, even wrote a paper about the values of democracy in university in Osfjord. Which of course, is simply a lovely opportunity, to tip the scales in Borea, or at least sow chaos in the troublesome region directly at the main benefactor of its troublesomeness. It’s a small international perspective risk, though perhaps a funeral for another king can be arranged if the discussion with the brother proved fruitful.

9

Your Royal Majesty Wilan I of Blåskog,

It is with profound gratitude that we receive your esteemed invitation to your coronation and the subsequent national celebration.

We extend our warmest wishes for Your Majesty’s successful coronation ceremony and extend our heartfelt congratulations on your ascension to the throne. May your reign be marked by prosperity, harmony for the cause of both Blaskog and Borea.

With utmost respect and warm regards,

Alane Cáiréas, Leiadh of the Federation of the Trinterian Realm.

Seárlas Athairne, Tiatarán of Her Imperial Majesty’s Government.

As the AC’s cold-blown air began to be felt, Alane held Wilan’s letter in hand to skim through the words whilst her crossed feet rested on the mahogany table. Her eyes followed the lines, only to skip a few ‘unnecessary grammatical filler words’ before returning to read them again, and for a second and third time in succession to make sure that she’s gotten the tone, and message understood in full. It was a strange way to read, but it was what she was used to, and something that she needed to not make a habit out of.

“Hmph,” She mumbled to herself, her free hand’s index twisting on her hair as she squinted her eyes to inspect it once more. It seemed to her that royals she’s supposed to take note of get coronated every few days as then, she could swear that it was only a few weeks ago when she went to Scheherazade’s, though she supposed that it could be a chance for her to disappear and leave things for the Séacarái’s pro tempore to figure out themselves, as Séarlas – her Tiatarán, was also happened to be named.

It was then that her personal thoughts on the issue were banished to make way for political considerations, as they should be. Blaskog was far beyond Mirhaime’s realm of interests, or even the Comlathas’ as eastwards is where Thalor’s more concerned but yet, even in her comfy, cushioned seat in Imirodraeth, she could feel the brunt of the late Carl IX’s declaration of Syrtæn’at “artificial abnormality” and “existential mistake”. She’ll never forgive him for that three-hour-long meeting with the Privy Council in regard to her country’s increased commitment to continental defence in the face of increased instability in regions where the NCEF is concerned.

Though indeed far from her country’s region of interests, it would not be the end of the world for Alane to waste this opportunity, considering how at most, she could send someone from her diplomatic corps to handle the event. But perhaps, somewhere in this quagmire, she figured, a statement could be made – one that she realized could not be relegated to someone else: that Mirhaime, and, if others are willing, the Comlathas are willing to give the Blaskovian political establishment, and all its flaws, a chance in recognition by way of going to a reformer’s coronation.

After a moment of silent deliberation, she finally made up her mind she put the letter on her desk and grabbed her phone to dial Séarlas:

“Listen up nerd, we’re going to Blaskog next Saturday.”

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