Ambassador to Noveaux Otto Larsen of the Commonwealth of Valheim was both a very important man and a very stout one. Only a day before the long train ride and car drive to the Silver Light Ball from Calien, the new capital, Larsen had to find a tailor who could find a large --enough tuxedo to fit over his rolling paunch. His pudgy fingers tapped restlessly in thought on the armrest in the backseat of the car as it slowly climbed the winding switchback up the mountain slope to Clarien Castle. He could be thinking about the ongoing rivalry between Sor and Rodbukt, how it could impact his sale of Valheiman oil from both to Noveaux, or perhaps that Novean scientist's proposal to renovate the long- disused Large Radio Array on Valheim, or even more pressing international news, but instead the politically-appointed, balding, rotund man was brooding over his failed New Years' resolution to actually visit a gym.
In the driver's seat, the ambassador's personal attache, Henrik Kristensen, eased the car around another sharp bend. They were running late, but he'd prefer they got to the castle safely instead of speeding their way through a guardrail and off a cliff. Kristensen came cut out of a Valheiman postcard- thick nose, short blonde hair, square jaw, well-built and immensely tall, too tall for his seat. Indeed, sometimes he wished he could return to that postcard, to the land of ice and snow. Nostalgia for the frozen thermometer was a strange thing- no one
liked the cold after all, not even a Valheiman, but it nevertheless reminded him of home.
They finally reached the castle's medieval gate. Kristensen stepped out first and buttoned his suit jacket, hit by a blast of cool alpine wind. He smiled briefly. It stirred thoughts of home back through his mind again. He hastened back to his duties- handing over the keys to the valet, opening the door for the Ambassador, and escorting him to the party.
Henrik led the Ambassador toward the gate, but found the way blocked by the warm smiles of the Novean Imperial Court's highest members- and among their ranks even the young sovereign himself. He hesitated for a few moments, attempting to figure out the correct way to address them collectively. Desperately, he flung himself to one answer, hoping they wouldn't take it as too much of a slight.
"Your, ah, Excellencies... may I present to you, the Ambassador to Noveaux of the Commonwealth of Valheim, Mr. Otto Larsen," he said with his deepest bow, which still left him taller than his superior.
With pompous indignation for his subordinate, Larsen butted in with a slight bow of his own (for his stomach wouldn't allow him to go any further): "Your Imperial Grace, King of Esaur, Lord Regent Montcourt; Your Imperial Grace, Duke of Lienne, Primus Olivier Bast; Your Excellency, Chancellor Sigmar von Lohen; and of course Your Imperial Majesty, Kaizig of the United Realms of Noveaux, Evander Atlas- my sincerest gratitude for your invitation to this event."