All of the attending delegates had arrived, and the conference was to begin shortly, but Consul John Riley still had a few minutes to walk around the room, shaking hands with the various delegates and making some discreet last-second checks on the arrangements. He knew that Commander Jankowski's crew had pulled out all the stops and made every conceivable necessary arrangement, but a career in business, and a more recent one in politics, had taught him to take no chances.

The conference was being hosted in one of the ship portside banquet halls. One wall of the room was dominated by huge floor-to-ceiling windows that gave an impressive view of the ravaged planet below them. Along one wall was a buffet table with food and drink from every nation represented at the conference. The various foods were placed together on the table to encourage the delegations to intermingle. The Maltese foods, prepared with ingredients imported from Malta itself, were marked with an orange tag, warning the delegates that they contained trace amounts of cardamine. The head chef, formerly a chef at the five-star Leeds Restaurant before the war, from Wellington's on Canberra Star City had joined the staff of the Leviathan for this conference, guaranteeing that all the food would be of the very highest quality.

In the center of the room was six tables arranged in a circle. There was ample space between the tables to allow aides and serving staff to pass through unimpeded. The spaces, along with the placement of the tables, kept opposing delegations from being seated too close to each other. If the Gallic and IMG tables happened to be facing the windows, well, surely that was a coincidence. With the chosen arrangement, somebody had to be facing outside, after all.

Now that Riley had finished his rounds, it was time to begin the conference itself. He joined his fellow Octavarian delegates at Natio Octavarium's table. Consul Riley was a man in his mid 40s, dressed in a perfectly tailored Bretonian suit in the latest New London fashion. On his lapel was a pin bearing the Octavarian seal, and his suit bore his customary blood diamond cufflinks. To his right was Taskmaster Eva Flores, Leader of the Fourth Octavarium Fleet. The veteran Taskmaster cut an impressive figure in her immaculate dress uniform. She had close-cropped hair and a bearing that spoke of years of front line combat experience. She appeared unusually young for her role, but the cardamine inhaler she wore clearly advertised her Maltese heritage, and the fact that she was likely a good bit older than her appearance would suggest. Seated to Riley's left was Commander Evelynn Fairfax, representing the Octavarium Intelligence Commission. The statuesque blonde-haired intelligence agent wore a suit nearly as fine as Riley's own.

As the delegates took their places, Riley stood to speak.

"Fellow delegates, I welcome you all aboard the Leviathan. I am honored that you have accepted our invitation. For nearly a decade, our nations have been embroiled in the largest, most destructive conflict since our ancestors arrived in Sirius. Perhaps in all of human history. Just outside those windows, we see the price of continued warfare. Continuing this conflict can only result in more worlds suffering Leeds' fate.
Today, I hope we can put aside our differences and take the first steps in moving away from the brink. We must find a way towards peace, for the sake of our children, and the worlds we hope to leave for them."

Riley paused for a moment to let his words sink in.

"In front of each of you is a copy of the agenda we previously agreed on. Our first topic is the recognition of the Gallic Provisional Government, and the permanent government to follow. As the Kingdom of Bretonia has kindly allowed this conference to take place on their territory, I would like to begin with them."

Riley sat down and waited for the Bretonian delegate to begin.