Arriving in the Republic of Lazlowia, Selvala McEva’s long, sleek plane touches down at a predetermined airport. She sits anxiously in an executive seat as the black and white unmarked plane slows to a stop. Filing a few papers away in a satchel, she hands it to a vulpine guard as she apparently whispers something in his ear. Nevertheless, once the plane stops, she stands, brushes off her dress of black, red, and white, polishes her boots with a simple napkin from her serving tray, and walks to the front of the plane, where a serviceable stairway is hopefully being prepared. Going over her appearance once more in a pocket mirror, she ensures her long black hair is kept in simple order, and that her fur markings of red and white look relatively symmetric.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she awaits stepping on Lazlowian soil for the first time…
Like on similar occasions, the airport and the city of Lazlowgrad were decorated with flags. Policemen patroled the streets, and on the route which the convoy will take the cars were taken away and cordons were set up. Two jet fighters flew above the airport. As the foreign dignitaries stepped down from the stairs, a millitary band started to play the anthems of the countries. This time Radics Jázon, the Minister of Foreign Affairs greeted McEva and a girl scout handed some flowers over to her. After this they got into the cars.
“-So, how was the trip so far?”-asked Radics.
“How lovely!” she exclaimed as she placed a long hairpin in her hair, tying it up slightly. She exclaimed as she bent down to pick up the flowers. She was quite impressed with the entire arrangement - Vekaiyun flags along with their nation’s music was more than she expected, especially for a nation watched as closely as her own. It was a pleasant surprise.
She boarded a car as two of her elite guards, appearing intimidating through their suits and black plastic eyes, stepped into the vehicle. She sat down and carefully set the bouquet next to her. “The plane ride? All very well. We hit a small bit of turbulence, but all was well afterwords.” She peered out the window. “Your nation is quite beautifut!” she said with a smile.
“-And you haven’t seen the countryside yet. We do everything we can. After several years of dictatorship and three years of civil war things were in bad shape. Fortunately Lazlowgrad was spared from the fights. Anyway, the events for today: first we go to the Parliament, where you meet the president. Any questions?”
“A civil war?” she repeated. “Oh, I see. Our nation is currently recovering from a crisis of our own, as I’m certain it’s relatively globally known. It’s unfortunate.” Her gaze returned to the view of the cityscape reflected from the windows of the limousine. “We’ve recovered from a very malevolent leader, who has thankfully been eradicated.” She turned to the minister. “The method of his death is irrelevant to me. It’s just good to see a nightmare die.”
“Is there any customs I must know prior to meeting your President?” she asked as she shifted in her seat. “I admit our nation does not normally display an inviting diplomacy policy, and, consequently, there is much we do not know about other nations. I suppose it is due to our self-sufficiency from our colonies, but Max did have quite a negative impact in how we are able to deal with others.”