An elderly, stoic and somber man stood up at the Gallic table. He was tall, thin and well past his sixties. He sported an impeccable dress uniform with two stars on each sleeve. The uniform was clearly as aged as the man himself, but there was an underlying strength to the resut.
"Mesdames, messieurs" he entoned with an unmistakably theatrical tone. "I expect none of you know me at this table, and for good reason. I have retired from military life since before this conflict even began. However, during my career, I taught many exceptional students at the Ecole Navale. One of whom you will know well. Her name was Isabelle Montlaville de Chanteloup." He paused, though it was unclear whether it was theatrics or emotion. "Because of that link, and for various other reasons that do not concern you in the least, I was called back to help guide our navy in these turbulent times. I am here as adviser to the representative of the Duchy of Burgundy, the baronne of Voisines, madame Rose Aveline." He gestured towards the quiet, striking figure of the baronness. "I am contre-amiral Daniel d'Argenlieu, formerly retired and eternally in service to Gallia. I will be honest with this representation. I did not come here by choice, but as the noble reed, we shall bend before we break. Alas, there is little we can bring to this table that isn't already public. As you know, the Monarchy has fallen, leaving Gallia to her own trepidations - and they have been many. There has been a significant exodus of the old nobility to the Gallic Hébrides (he looked at the Bretonian delegation with a shadow of a scowl) - that would be your Edimbourg and your Orquenée - creating a power vacuum within our House. Rest assured that Gallia is not in chaos ; social cohesion is assured, the infrastructure is untouched, and youwould find it the impenetrable stronghold it has always been if you were to try and reach us militarily. That being said..."
Another man at the Gallic table stood up calmly, a half-smile printed on his face. He was dressed in the typical smart casual fashion of the Provence elite - not exactly formal, but certainly not lacking in allure, either. "Respectfully, amiral" he started with a honeyed, suave voice, "I am André Nivaggioni, of Provence. Enchanted to make your collective acquaintances. I think what my esteemed countrymate is getting at, and to answer your question in a more concise fashion, herr Steiner (he grinned) : Gallia is currently split between three states. That's my syndicate, there's the Conseillard republic, and there's the baronne's duchy. As you can see, we are on speaking terms and already working together as to the future of our nation. That future excludes the Monarchy, and those forces you mentioned in our Aquitaine are not with us. Not anymore. They made a choice, and that choice is to... Hmmh. An indiscriminate genocide of... You (he pointed at Bretonia), you (the Maltese), you (the Crayterians), probably you (the IMG), and us, of course. We're not talking much these days, and you're all very much better off talking to us, instead. Does that satisfy your kuriosität, herr Steiner ?" He grinned again, and sat back.
(06-14-2019, 12:25 PM)Sombra Hookier Wrote: If everyone was a bit more like Lanakov, the entire world would be more positive. Including pregnancy tests.