It was beneath an overcast and depressing sky that the carriaged rattled through the grounds of the Myrorian Empereur's palace. The day's choice of weather mimicked the sour mood of the guest which the vehicle was transporting.
Vadïn Obraska was less than thrilled with the extraordinary assingment which had been thrust upon him. This was not supposed to be his responsibility. This was the sort of thing that the Royal Confederacy's rightfully appointed ambassador to the court of Empereur Nelvil II Moomintroth ought to have dealt with. It had, however, been decided that the situation called for the hairy-pawed touch of a lycanthrope and, alas, the usual ambassador was a human, and had proven incapable of rearranging his chromosomes on whim. So Obraska, being a respected and accomplished individual who was already conveniently of the correct species, had been picked as the next best thing.
This anecdote begs, of course, the question of the nature of the matter which would impose such a cumbersome restriction on the Royal Confederacy's choice of diplomat. Evidently the Empereur was unhappy with just having been give an excuse for a glorious little war. Or the Royal Confederacy had simply assumed he might be and was taking precautionary measures to save face. For whatever reason they had decided it was paramount that the Empereur be provided with some account of the circumstances surrounding the untimely death of the late Baan Myrskyja. The man had of course been a lycanthrope, and this apparently meant that only another member of the species could provide the insight necessary. That, or maybe the Royal Confederacy did not want to implicitly admit that it might be culpable for the poor decisions of its provincial authorities.
Either way, Obraska was not convinced that his presence of necessary. The man who was supposed to be holding an audience with the Empereur had not even been courtious enough to make an appearance. He had probably arranged the whole stupid affair so he could invent some way to indulge in Fellowmoor's cabarets in the middle of the day. Instead, his sole companion was a nameless steward of the emperor who had absolutely no trust in Obraska's knowledge of proper protocol.
"You will wait until you are announced to move from the doorway into the anteroom and into the throneroom. When you enter you will bow once and then wait until spoken to." He read of his mental list in the bored drawl of someone who had done it too many times before. "You will address the Empereur at all times as 'your Majesty' always. You will maintain a respectful distance from his majesty at all times unless he requests that you approach. You will remove your hat..."
"I'm not wearing a hat," interrupted Obraska as respectfully as possible. The steward stopped looking at nothing in particular long enough to glance at Obraska's head. It was indeed uncovered.
"Ah, very good then. That is one less think you will have to remember," replied the steward, deftly turning a trivial admission of wrong doing into a veiled insult. "And I do believe that covers everything." He seemed as glad to report that as Obraska was to hear it. The brief remainder of the carriage ride concluded in silence. This was followed by a walk through the vast, empty halls of the palace, whose size served not to facilitate the passage of great crowds but to impress upon any visitor the immensity of Nelvil II's power. They in time lead to the promised anteroom. The nobility casually mincing inside took no notice of the two new arrivals until until the steward spoke up.
"Presenting, Hort Serjo Vadïn Obraska." Obraska had to suppress the blossoming of an instinctive flight response as dozens of pairs of eyes turned to regard him with a bored curiosity. Without letting his own gaze wander, he stiffly followed the steward to the door at the opposite end of the room. The chatter of the nobility was silenced as the door shut behind them, allowing Obraska's focus to shift to the mustachioed man standing by the throne at the far end of the room in full regalia. Empereur Nelvil II Moomintroth. His face was blank, and he simply watched and waited as Obraska approached to what he hoped qualified as a "respectful distance", and then bowed.
