Opening relations with the theocracy

Within an hour, a small fleet- roughly 5 ships and a pair of smaller craft- hove into view of the destroyer, coming around a peninsula stretching out from the coasts to the south, led by what can only be described as an overly ornate ironclad battleship.
Almost as visual contact was made, the venerable capitalship erupted with sound, playing a song audible even from such a distance. A classical piece from almost two centuries ago.
As the lumbering nautical ancient closed, then slowed and wheeled around them, eventually coming abreast of the foreign vessel while the rest of the fleet- two frigates, a cruiser, and what seemed to be an oldstyle torpedo boat, all of them ironclads like the battleship- took up station in an incomplete star pattern. As the iron leviathan closed to the point the crew could have spit off the side and hit the vessel, it came to a complete stop. Emblazoned on the side in raised embossing was the ship's name, the The ACS Scylla's Legacy.
The much taller ship swung a small crane over the side with a platform attached too it, and descended, revealing an officer in a black uniform bedecked with what appeared to be golden accoutrements and orange jewelry, a saber and a strange pistol at his waist.

"Who amongst you can speak High Latin?"
A few moments of silence followed, broken by an affirmative in accented latin from what the officer presumed was one of the diplomats.
"Ah good, we can at least communicate like civilized people. I am Sir Vantes of the order of the Kraken, first officer of the Scylla's Legacy. Before we get underway to the nearest port, I am hear to address you and give warning. You have entered the theocracy's waters, and so far have comported yourselves with decorum. Be aware however that if it is discovered that you have acted subversively or are found to have connections to figures classified as heretics by the triparate inquisition, you will be held for questioning. I assure you, such would not be a pleasant experience. Furthermore, you will move to match our heading and remain within the escort formation during the journey. Straying towards the edges of this formation will prompt a warning shot, as will closing within 100 meters of an escorting vesssel. Three warning shots or attempting to break out of the formation will be answered with maximum force. Please bring your heading to 180, and we will resume formation. You have ten minutes, then we will depart. Any questions?"

True to Sir Vantes's statement, the fleet had assumed the escort star formation, and oriented south within ten minutes, and set off at a moderate clip. It didn't take them long to reach the same point that the fleet had come into view around, which was good considering that the entire time, the destroyer had several guns on it from each of the surrounding ships. The nervous tension was so thick you could taste it in the air.
As the sextet of vessels swept around the point however, the crew of the destroyer beheld a wide bay with multiple city-sized settlements cropping up along it's length, the obvious gothic architecture visible even at such distance against the coniferous forests in the background. They sailed further into the bay, then angled south again towards a series of more fortified looking wharves at least partially made of stone.

Semaphore signals rose from the ACS Scylla's Legacy, directing the destroyer to dock at pier 5.

It was fortunate then that they did not wait long. Indeed, the military detatchment had been ready for their arrival, if not arrayed in the welcoming formation of an honor guard and more like soldiers in trenches prepared to weather the next storm of violence.

It would be another 10 minutes before what could only be the official welcoming committee swept into view at the end of the pier, what could only be a collection of functionaries and additional guards, but in addition to that, two figures stood out from the crowd as significant. Even at a glance, the functionaries could determine the relative importance of these two men, though it was equally clear they were no classical nobles. These we men who acted, not merely took credit for the work of others.

One, a relatively plain man in relatively common clothes approached, but while the functionaries orbitted about the party like nervous sparrows, this one strode calmly, and seemed to trail wisps of coalsmoke from his jacket. The staff or sceptre he carried as well was far more innate than would be expected, perhaps a badge of office?

The second however was much more striking, and yet from the posture seemed deferent to the former. Perhaps it was the fact that the figure practically limped along with a heavy, metallic step, visibly supported by his own, plainer cane, his finer clothing intermixed with armatures of metal that could only be improvised prosthesis and his face masked by an expressionless mask.

As the entourage came to a halt the guards seemed no less alert, but instead more watchful, almost eying the sheenish vessel as if it were a scorpion that might sting them. Still, it was plain that whatever passed for the authority around here had come to greet them.

The two notable figures straightened, and the man with the scepter regarded the collection of dignitaries with a raised eyebrow.
"It's an honor to me such fine figures decided to visit our frigid little part of the theocracy. I'm Garrick Korolav, Mayor of Saunas, and my masked friend is Kael Lorens, one of the stormtouched and my attaché. I'm afraid you've caught us at a bit of a disadvantage. We're aware of the technical opening of the borders, but this is the first I've heard of diplomatic ties being officially restablished."

"With respect to this delegation" the masked man- Kael Lorens- interceeded. "Foreign diplomacy is almost entirely the domain of the King. The best we can do is expedite your delegation, and the earliest train from here to Sturmgarten isn't until dawn. The Order of the Iron Path is nothing if not punctual, for good or ill."

"We can host you until transport can be arranged," the mayor confirmed, looking apologetic "perhaps organize a tour of the city? the mayoral residence isn't as fine as one of the mansions of the old families, but most of them are otherwise occupied and getting ahold of them quickly enough would be a challenge."

"The Lorens family manor can take them."

The mayor cast a long, almost concerned look towards his companion, who inclined his head. The mayor sighed. "Very well Kael, we'll host them there if you wish. Try not to cause a diplomatic incident?"

The latter tapped his cane on the ground thrice, scoffing only for it to dissolve into a grating cough, muzzled by the metal of his attire. "Worry not. I will meet you at the station tomorrow at nine-thirty."

"Very well." Garrick turned back to the envoys. "My apologies for our lack of decorum, with the nation closed for so long, such things are typically left to the church and the old families. Mister Lorens will see to your care until we can arrange an audience with the king. I'll be taking care of that promptly. In the meantime, I'm sure you are tired after your long voyage. Also, the church would have my hide if I did not at least mention that they would certainly love to welcome you as well, be that at the evening service. The invitation's open, but I wouldn't feel pressed to attend. If nothing else, the inquisitors will be waiting for you at the station."

"We'd be honored, though as merely a welcoming committee I feel perhaps you should save such an exceptional gift for the king himself? Besides, Mister Lorens cannot partake of alcohol I'm afraid. Most of the stormtouched suffer unfortunate conditions from their ordeal you see. I will be happy to offer my vehicle to convey you to the service, and from there to the Lorens manor, if you so desire?"

He shrugged hopelessly. "I would attend myself, but Pastor Haward understands the burdens of the office. Just as he is bound to attend our souls, it is my duty to attend to the health of this city, and we are far from ready for the polar storm coming down from the north."

"Yes... nature's fury tends to derail the plans of mice and men. Fortunately, we can retreat into purgatory in a worst case scenario." Mayor Korolav mused, pulling the door to his vehicle open for them, and gesturing for one of his functionaries to drive in his absence.

"Give Pastor Haward my best gentlemen."

And with that, the mayor stepped away. As the dignitaries boarded and the car pulled away, he turned an approaching soldier at the dock, and began conversing with him, visible through the back window of the vehicle. the second vehicle soon followed, having taken a moment for Mister Lorens to enter first.

It would be nigh on 30 minutes before the two vehicles pulled up in front of a looming cathedral and stopped, allowing the group to disembark. The statuary was impressive, most notably in that framing the doors were towering sculptures encased in cylinders of glass, each one holding a shape that at a glance looked almost human, but also terribly wrong.


Mister Lorens tilted his head a moment as he realized the delegates were eyeing the monuments, and voiced a raspy chuckle.

"Masterful, aren't they? It was a work of genius to craft the effigies of the angels in such a way that the glass might contain them. Far to many of the angels possess shapes that conventional physics do not allow."