«12. . .830831832833834835836837838»
I volunteer, good sir
IC: Weapons Embargo on Kiago
Through international backing, the Neo American Union leads a coalition against Kiago on the following counts:
1). Sponsoring/harbouring a terrorist organization in eastern 
Kiago.
2). Falsifying data to the United Nations of Barbaria on the accounts of sponsoring/harbouring a terrorist organization.
3). Inciting regional instability.
4). Belligerence/warmongering against multiple nation-states in the span of a decade.
5). Refusal for international intervention against previously mentioned terrorist organization.
Mr. Johnson, a recently appointed Neo-American representative to the United Nations of Barbaria, officially publishes a weapons embargo to the assembly in the presence of Kiago's representative.
"For multiple transgressions against the international community, the nation of Kiago will be penalized with a weapons embargo. In this embargo, weapons of all forms are prohibited to sale to, or trade with, the nation of Kiago. These signatories have voluntarily agreed to cease all exports of weapons to Kiago in order to prevent escalation, and/or reduce the ongoing instability the country is facing. I am disappointed in Kiago's regime to blatantly lying to the international community as one of its worse transgressions. We have tried everything, and used our finite resources to aid Kiago in solving their problem, but with every effort we made, they refused or objected to achieving internal stability. This instability has crippled the continent of Zothique with the possibilities of more war, famines, or possibly worse. This embargo will be applied for a period of twenty-five (25) years, regardless of Kiago gets their sh*t together, or not." Mr. Johnson looks at the Kiago representative with a scorned face, as if a father is severely disappointed in their son.
"I implore the nations of 
Hedra, the Hyperborean Empire of 
Vostag, and the 
Greater Viking Empire to become signatories to the weapons embargo, considering they are nations with capable and large arms manufacturing industries, they should be responsible enough to participate in this embargo for the betterment of the international community..."
nation=neo_american_union/detail=factbook/id=2575569
"...In addition, on our part, the Neo American Union will be fully removing any tolerance on Kiago's occupation and colonization of the Antillean islands, known to them as Francine. The Neo American Union will be shortly seizing the island, occupying it, and eventually annexing it to be part of our glorious nation. We can not have a foreign imperial power in our backyard transgressing against the greater international community, and making us look like fools. This is their punishment for their lies and betrayal."
Shortly after the announcement, the Kiago-occupied Antillean islands have been bombarded by the Neo American Navy, destroying any naval defences on the islands, to make room for an amphibious invasion, lead by the Neo American Marine Corps. Some have whispered even blockading the Kiago coast to insure that no sea-based routes could allow the advent flow of weapons into Kiago.
IC: The grand cathedral in Seville was resplendent, dressed in opulent splendor for the wedding that would seal the alliance between the powerful nations of Hedra and 
Velkisa. Light filtered through stained-glass windows depicting legendary kings and queens, casting a rainbow of colors across the polished marble floors. Massive arrangements of roses, peonies, and wildflowers from both kingdoms filled the air with their delicate fragrance, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere.
In a small, secluded room off to the side of the main hall, Vasco paced nervously. He was dressed in the formal regalia of Hedra, adorned with his medals. His dark hair was brushed back neatly, though his nervous habit revealed itself in the subtle flexing of his gloved hands, fingers brushing against his palms. The weight of expectation pressed down on him, and despite his usually easygoing demeanor, he couldn’t shake the knot of nerves in his chest.
The door opened, and Empress Elvira stepped inside. She wore a sleek gown of deep sapphire, almost black, trimmed with silver. Her sharp gaze immediately fixed on her son, and she crossed the room with measured grace.
“Vasco,” she said, her tone carrying an edge of impatience. “You are fidgeting like a child. Stand still.”
He gave her a tight smile, attempting to brush off his nerves with his usual wit. “I didn’t expect you to be here, Mother. Thought you’d be busy giving orders or mingling with our esteemed guests.”
Elvira regarded him with a steely gaze, folding her hands in front of her. “This union is no trivial affair, Vasco. I thought I should remind you of the responsibility you are about to take on.”
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, inadvertently tugging at his glove as he did so. “Believe me, I haven’t forgotten. You’ve reminded me enough times.”
She observed him for a moment, her expression softening just barely. “Duty is rarely easy, Vasco. But it is essential. I’ve raised you to understand this.”
Vasco let out a low, sardonic chuckle. “Yes, Mother, you’ve made it clear my entire life. Duty above all, tradition above all. But forgive me if I’m less thrilled about marrying for political reasons rather than, say, love.”
Elvira’s gaze hardened. “Love is fleeting, Vasco. You will find that what matters most is power, stability, and loyalty. Princess Aloara has proven herself capable and resolute, someone who will rule at your side with strength and intelligence. And that should be enough.”
He paused, glancing at the cathedral doors where he would soon walk down the aisle. “But is that truly enough?” he asked quietly, almost to himself. “Is there nothing more than… obligation?”
His mother’s expression softened, a rare glimmer of something gentler surfacing in her eyes, but it was quickly masked. “One day, Vasco, you will understand. Marriage to Aloara is not merely a duty but an alliance, a chance to strengthen both of our nations and secure our family’s legacy.” She reached out, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. “Do this not only for your country but for yourself. You are my son, and that is the blood that defines you.”
He nodded, resigned, but also comforted by her touch—an unusual gesture for her. “I will do as you ask, Mother.”
The faintest hint of approval flickered in her gaze as she withdrew her hand. “Good. Now, compose yourself.”
As Elvira turned to leave, she glanced over her shoulder, her voice softening in an uncharacteristic moment of warmth. “Vasco… you will be a great leader, as I have always known you would.”
Vasco met her gaze, his own eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and determination. “Thank you, Mother.”
With a nod, she turned and swept out of the room, leaving Vasco alone with his thoughts once again. The door soon opened for him, signaling that it was time.
Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, straightened his posture, and walked into the cathedral to wait for his bride.
As the heavy doors of the cathedral swung open, a hush fell over the crowd. Heads turned as Vasco stepped forward, his regal bearing and commanding presence catching everyone’s attention. He moved down the aisle, feeling the weight of countless eyes on him.
Aloara then entered the cathedral accompanied by her father. Standing at the altar, she was breathtaking. She wore a gown of ivory silk that seemed to shimmer under the light of the chandeliers, the fabric draping gracefully over her frame and pooling at her feet like liquid moonlight. Embroidered vines and floral motifs traced their way along her sleeves and bodice, and a delicate veil hung down her back, fastened with a circlet of sparkling diamonds.
As Aloara reached Vasco, their eyes met, and a flicker of something unspoken passed between them—an acknowledgment of the enormity of the moment. He took her hand in his, bowing his head slightly in a formal gesture. Her fingers were steady and warm in his own, and for a brief moment, he felt his nerves subside, replaced by a strange sense of calm.
The officiant began to speak, his voice resonating through the cathedral. “Today, we gather to witness the union of Prince Vasco of Hedra and Princess Aloara of Velkisa, an alliance that will bind their nations and usher in a new era of strength and unity.”
As the officiant’s words filled the hall, Vasco found himself lost in thought, contemplating the strange journey that had brought him to this moment. Just months ago, he had been restless and uncertain, chafing under the weight of royal duty. Now, standing beside Aloara, he felt the significance of what he was about to do. This union was more than a political alliance; it was a bridge between two worlds, a symbol of peace, and—perhaps, someday—a source of strength for both of them.
When it was time for the vows, Aloara’s voice was clear and unwavering as she spoke, her gaze never leaving his. “I, Aloara, promise to stand by you in strength and in duty, as an equal and a partner. Together, we will bring honor to our families, guide our people, and lead our countries into a new era.”
Vasco listened to her words, noting the conviction in her tone. She was every bit as determined as he was, and he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of admiration for her resolve. When it was his turn, he met her gaze, his own voice steady.
“I, Vasco, vow to honor and support you, as a partner and an equal. With you, I will build a future worthy of our heritage and our people.”
As he spoke, a sense of purpose settled over him, and he realized that, in some way, his mother had been right. There was strength in this union—an unbreakable bond that would help them shoulder the burdens of their titles.
The officiant raised his arms, a solemn smile on his face. “By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife..”
A round of applause filled the cathedral as Vasco and Aloara turned to face the congregation, the weight of their vows still lingering between them. He could feel the pressure of his mother’s gaze from the front row, a silent reminder of the expectations that lay ahead. Yet, as he glanced at Aloara beside him, he felt a surprising sense of peace.
They began their walk back down the aisle together, flanked by nobles and dignitaries from several places, the air thick with whispered blessings and murmurs of approval. As they exited the cathedral, the afternoon sun bathed them in its golden glow, casting long shadows over the cobbled courtyard outside. Baston quickly rushed to the Princess’ side with an umbrella to protect her from the sunlight.
Vasco leaned toward Aloara as they descended the steps, speaking just loud enough for her to hear. “Well, Your Highness, it seems we’re officially bound together now. Do you think we’ll survive each other?”
She smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement. “If you can manage to keep up with me, Your Highness, I’d say we have a fair chance.”
They shared a brief, knowing smile before turning to face the crowd, who had gathered outside to cheer and celebrate. For the first time in his life, Vasco felt the weight of his title, his family’s expectations, and the promise of something new all resting on his shoulders. And as he glanced at his new wife, he found himself ready to meet it all head-on.
OOC:
People's Republic of Quing Nara: Extremely Negative; historical rivals, territorial disputes, border friction, conflicting ideologies/politics.
Second Empire of Tritra: Neutral/Indifferent; hadn't established formal relations.
Empire of Hedra: Somewhat Positive; hadn't established formal relations, admired from afar.
Hyperborean Empire of Vostag: Barely Negative; associated with historical rival (Quing Nara), border friction, weird.
Kazakborat: Positive; historically and culturally tied to each other's foundation.
Presidential Republic of Alpecchia: Neutral/Indifferent; hadn't established formal relations.
Kingdom of Pyingang: Neutral/Indifferent; hadn't established formal relations.
Crampodia: Neutral/Indifferent; hadn't established formal relations.
The Neo American Union: Somewhat Positive; established formal relations, mutual respect.
Imperial Federation of Sovern: Extremely Positive; same rivals (Quing Nara), culture/society is admired, mutual respect.
Vhodesa: Neutral/Indifferent; hadn't established formal relations.
Imperii Feminam: Somewhat Negative: Opposes matriarchy social structure, seen as odd and inhuman.
Rromai: Extremely Negative; repulsed by their culture, their people are ugly, and seen generally as a dirty people.
Gianaretopolicobrica: Extremely Negative; associated with historical rival (Quing Nara), their people are seen as ugly.
New Optus: Neutral/Indifferent; hadn't established formal relations.
Carscadia: Extremely Negative; seen as ugly, dirty people with no real culture.
Shik Daha: Somewhat Negative; not as hated as Carscadians, but seen as likewise people.
Far Drasis: Neutral/Indifferent; hadn't established formal relations.
Berukio Imperiuk: Neutral/Indifferent; hadn't established formal relations.
The South Ajian Commonwealth: Neutral/Indifferent; hadn't established formal relations.
Limperia: Somewhat Positive; established formal relations, mutual respect.
Kan Kynanate: Neutral/Indifferent; hadn't established formal relations.
Imperial Hegemony of Helric: Extremely Negative; historical rivals, past grievances, conflicting cultures/ideologies.
Kiago: Somewhat Negative; warmongering, internationally unpopular, and conflicting culture/ideologies.
The Greater Viking Empire: Extremely Negative; seen as 'larpers', poor hygiene, and too desperate for women.
Submetta: Extremely Negative; seen as pacifist and weird.
Dankest Kekistan: Extremely Negative; seen as 'larpers', on the internet 'too much' for their own good, and ugly.
Lageos: Somewhat Negative; warmongers, and ugly.
Rekua: Extremely Negative; seen as wakanda 'larpers', they all sound like spoiled brats.
Lenorah: Extremely Negative; they're literally monkeys.
Far Drasis: Somewhat Negative; uncivilized punks.
Kingdom of Phat Tai: Extremely Negative; don't even get me started with these guys.
Agyptus: Extremely Positive; example of strength and integrity, stands on their own.
Songhai Mali: Neutral/Indifferent; hadn't established formal relations.
Tyammad: Barely Negative; backwards people, and they all smell funny.
Upper Hayastan: Extremely Negative; warmongers, they stink, are a lesser Turkic people.
Malulota: Somewhat Positive; historical ties, regressed in the last centuries, minor grievances.
Bajookietopia: Neutral/Indifferent; Bajookie, what not? Weirdos.
Furry Free States: Extremely Negative; they're furries.
Oudi Hazala: Extremely Negative; seen as inbred zealots.
Nortus Kvenland: Barely Positive; seen as hairier and uglier Hyperboreans, past grievances.
Free Regay: Somewhat Positive: Both cultures enjoy weed very much.
Key:
Extremely Positive
Positive
Somewhat Positive
Barely Positive
Neutral/Indifferent
Barely Negative
Somewhat Negative
Negative
Extremely Negative
Disclaimer:
These aren't my personal opinions about you as a person, it is merely Legionary Sansar's opinion on your specific nation-state. Please don't get offended, because I am not going to apologize.
ooc: I can't even be offended, mad facts right there.
OOC: *makes monkey noises*
OOC: I appreciate the honesty man, I am in fact very desperate for women. LOL!
IC: "The Merciless Eagle"
Just as the bombardments on Kiago-controlled Antilles (Francine) cease, there is a brief moment of uncertainty for the inhabitants. The docks have been destroyed, their defences have been reduced to rubble, and their reserves' morale has been diminished. The Neo American flag waves fiercely over the horizon, as dozens of Amphibious Combat Vehicles (ACV's) make landfall on the northern beaches, and three (3) regiments of the Neo American Army's Light Infantry Corps have crossed from the Chadsf-Francine border in time to secure any attempt for the defenders to flank. The Neo American Marine Corps gradually make their way to the city's regional capital, decimating anything in their path with the aid of the Neo American Union's signature battle armor. One by one, the islands fall into Neo American control, but just as victory is imminent, Kiago's interim government is offered financial compensation of 1.2 billion Dollars if they choose to surrender the islands...
ATTN: Polls are open! Go vote!
Hello everyone,
I understand that, in comparison to my opponent, I am relatively new here and lack any reason government position. In real life I did participate in the debate club and model UN, so let's see how this goes. I have read the description of the position, and I am completely aware of its duties and the responsibilities that are upheld as the Communications Minister. I will say that my fellow opponent also lacks any real experience in regional politics, so I guess we're even matched when it comes to that. I implore you to vote for my for my honesty, and my integrity. I will work for you and prove that I am fit for the position, by continuing the weekly polls that, after some discussions, is relatively popular with you guys. I was thinking about asking daily questions on certain subjects, based in real life and regional affairs. May open ended conversations will encourage more activity on the regional messaging board, and this encourage more communication between residents.
If you are wondering about my nation in particular, I am obviously an alternative independent Yucatan, and I have discussed this with 
Mejicanas, and we have actually went over a possible roleplay session. I don't want to give out any hints but it's going to be a BIG deal, eventually.
Thank you.
IC: The Xexo Project
Through scientific innovation, the Hayastani nation has devised the creation of their first fission bomb. In the late Thursday evening, just ten miles east "Takinsh-Ayastan". In a bunker far off in the safe zone, President Askoy observes the weapon of mass destruction in person. The bomb is tested by two different models, then just after the tests the President will elect which model will be made first into production. Although the government of Upper Hayastan did publicly broadcast the test to the world, some information was intentionally left out, most importantly the isotopic compensation. A large mushroom cloud can be seen just over the horizon of "Takinsh-Ayastan", and more importantly, 
Malulota. This is a direct warning to Malulota and their Rodinian allies the steps the Hayatsani people will go to avenge their fallen Barracki brethren. Simultaneously, Upper Hayastan has successfully launched their space program, being their first satellite an uplink system capable of detecting ICBM's in the Earth's atmosphere, as an early-warning measure for 
Upper Hayastan and NALAN.
ATTN: The poll has closed and 
Yucatan Nation has been chosen to be our new Communications Minister! Congrats to him! Next up is Defense Minister, as you all know there are requirements to be eligible for the position, so be sure you fit them before announcing your interest to run. Election will take place in Nov. 13th.
I volunteer, thank you.
IC: "Yugi's War" - The March on Northern Kiago
As word spreads throughout 
Lageos that the central government of Kiago has virtually collapsed, many drug lords take the opportunity to extend their influence in the power vacuum, and seize the chance to become the ruling class of the region. One of these infamous drug lords is none other than Massai Yugi - a ruthless gang leader who came from the underprivileged rurals of Lageos, who in only a decade, has amassed the following of a large army. Upon hearing word of Kiago's demise, Yugi launched an assault on Northern Kiago, and subverted the lesser gangs under his control. His aim is to completely take control of Kiago, and install his fellowship as the ruling class of a dissolving nation. Everything he touches turns to ash, and everyone who stands against him is killed on the spot. This merciless barbarian doesn't stand on any ethics, only his passion of gaining wealth and infamy fuels his constant onslaught.
The march goes on south...
To be continued...
IC: A New Beginning...
The sun is rising, rising to a new start for a nation hated by all of Barbaria. In the foreground lies the ruins of the K.I.A headquarters, and within the ruins, lies the body of General Morris, the last tyrant to ever traverse on Kiago Ground. From the Vaughans to the Military Council, to finally the K.I.A, Kiago is finally rid of the tyrants that once ruled behind the King's and Queen's backs. From Leopold the II to King Leopold the III, each one of them had a dream. To ditch absolute monarchism, and to finally embrace the democratic dream. King Leopold the III heads up to his palace for the last time as absolute monarch. Where he meets several government officials, his own former advisory cabinet.
Paul Decraene, the economic advisor steps forward with a pen in hand, and the document in the other. "Your Highness, are you sure of this?" Says Mr. Decraene. "I am sure Mr. Decraene. My Forefathers and Foremothers have wanted this dream for who knows how long now. It is now or never. But for my last act, I have one last order." Says King Leopold the III. "Take down all the remaining threats." Also Says King Leopold the III as he finally signs the documents.
Kiago, Is now a true democracy.
IC:
Despite Kiago's ability to push the assault back a few miles, reinforcements quickly replaced the few thousand that fell, and were able to push back against the Kiago Armed Forces with full force ten miles inland. Their morale would return when it was discovered that Massai Yugi had survived the first battle, as the Kiago forces were too cocky to check his body. In his second attempt, he'd gather his forces under the cover of anti-aircraft missile turrets deep into Lageosian territory. Using their extensive range, the Kiago Air Force would be interrupted in any air-to-ground attacks, unless they'd want their best aircraft blown to bits. In the second attempt, Yugi's rage was fully shown, as many settlements and towns that he'd march on would be burned to the ground, the men were slaughtered, and any Kiago garrisons would be shot to death. While a thousand of his men was lost, five-thousand Kiagoan soldiers would fall before their bullets and machetes.
Meanwhile, underneath Kuanta, a specialized unit of explosive experts successfully snuck underneath Kiago's new parliament's building, and blew it up using makeshift pipe bombs all along the building's foundation. Upon detonation, the explosions would rock all of downtown Kuanta, and cause the parliament's building to collapse from within. The explosives unit were able to successfully retreat to the secret tunnels, and shut themselves out so they couldn't be followed. This devastating attack was confirmed by Lageosian Intelligence Agency, that a total of two-thousand Kiagoans were killed. As the day would carry on, more and more major cities in Kiago would suffer from these attacks, and unable to retaliate as the perpetrators vanished as fast as they appeared. Fear and panic would begin to spread as more and more of these attacks carried on into the week. Many in Lageos are calling it "Black Monday".
Yugi makes a public address, somewhere deep in the Kiago jungle.
"Lageosians, Kiagoans, Zothos, and the World - Hear my voice. I tell you that things are changing, and they are changing for the betters, the strong, and the disciplined. Kiago's attempt to become a republic is only a sign as to come for their decay, all the white invaders will be replaced, and they will be replaced by us - the strong. We have tunnels built all over the country - even parts of the continent. If you stay in our way, your people will suffer. Who is to blame?" Yugi ends his brief speech open ended, just as he takes cover in a tunnel nearby. The video cuts out, with no further explanation.
ATTN: Polls are open! Go vote!
OOC:
My fellow Barbarians,
Another election season has come, and right now you have the choice to vote for your next Defence Minister. Even in these easy, and calm times there are those who want to corrupt our elections, our security, and peace of mind. It is obvious to many that even through our reforms that there is always a small risk to our integrity. I do want to assure you all that under my experience, determination, and dedication will reaffirm my ability to protect this region another term. To all my supporters, thank you, you will always be appreciated. To the one whose being deceitful, plaguing our region with your contempt, I tell you that your days are growing shorter. You, the enemy of Barbaria, the enemy of the revolution we've established, you will never be forgotten. I see you, and I am on to you. Remember my fellow Barbarians, in good conscience make the correct decision these next few days. I have not lead you far, because I've kept you close and protected you. I was there when we were finally liberated, now please be there for me now by voting for me. Thank you.
IC:
Bortavian Civil War: "The Kinslayer"
In only the span of six months, Bortavia has been torn to shreds from within. The buildings are crumbling, the streets are unusable, the countryside is littered with pits of bodies, and everywhere you'd look there is blood - so much blood. Soldier after soldier becomes wary, and all for nothing. They are all fighting for a country that is no more. The war slows down into a brutal struggle for air, as the ash of the fires constantly fills their lungs. Despite the brooding, everything is still at stake for the battle over Favon. The city itself has been under siege for a month, starved from the outside world. The last of the rations were gone a week ago, and almost all hope is lost, until Prince Paul II. rallies the last of his men at the gates of the Royal Palace in a grand last stand against Prince Donovan's advance. However, just as the last of the men's hopes came alive, they would be soon faced with despair. Just as they were preparing to hold the first wave of assaults, they are met with their line being broken by a barrage of missile strikes on their location. The gate would become dismantled, the walls and fortifications compromised, and the courtyard they swore to guard was reduced to rubble. The first wave collided directly into the face of the defenders, forcing hand-to-hand combat in small, enclosed space. The intense battle would last for hours, with piles of men bloodied on the floor and walls. The fight was so brutal, it would scare the few that'd survive. Just as the fighting was reaching its peak, it would shortly end when the Twin Princes faced each other in their own respective brigade.
On the top floor of the Royal Palace, Prince Donovan III. pinched the forces of Prince Paul II. in the Solar Room, a place where the the royal family would lounge and live in their own private chambers. Prince Paul II. managed to barricade himself in their father's former room, while the rest of his men fought to the death to hold their foes off, but ultimately failed. Prince Donovan would find his brother locations, and just on the side of the wall give him one last warning before he'd be captured.
"Paul...I don't want there to be any bloodshed, please surrender...I promise you will be spared." Prince Donovan III. pleaded with his brother in a compassionate attempt to make him give up.
"Never, you'll have to kill me Donovan, you bastard!"
Angered by his brother's stubbornness, Prince Donovan breached the door with all his might, forcing the heavy door to the floor. The loud noise startled Prince Paul, but he'd foolishlesly come into his brother's crosshairs, and before anyone new it, a shot was fired, and Prince Paul was bloody on the floor. The world would become silent, and everyone who'd managed to enter the room was left speechless. Prince Donovan sat there, with his brother's blood on his hands, shamefully holding his laying corpse. The battle ceased, and the war came to an abrupt end. Prince Paul II. was confirmed dead by shotgun to the head. Shortly after, Prince Donovan III. announced his victory, but showcasing the corpse of his brother before his own army, who'd mostly been captured to fled into the countryside. With no dispute, Prince Donovan III. was proclaimed the new King of Bortavia, and immediately holds a ceremony to confirm his Crowning.
The nation stands still...
IC:
Breaking International News...
President Ligray Mastti of the East Niholate Federation makes a public statement in regards to the recent changes in Kiago. From the very podium, Mr. Mastti make a clear monologue from the President's office.
"While we are impressed by the democratization of Kiago, the underlining issues in their country has become problematic for their neighbours. We can't include Kiago into our community until their new regime can undertake these obstacles head on, and get their sh*t together. At this very moment, I and many leaders of Zothique are in the beginning steps for re-creating the Zothique Union. If Kiago can improve their internal issues and rebrand their image, we can begin including them into the community we're planning to rebuild. It will take a lot of work and dedication for all of our members, but hopefully we can come together stronger to deter the rise of neo-imperialism. The world is gradually returning to the dark times, but I would rather die than see Zothique regress to those horrible times once more."
IC: The Alduin de Montijo Line
Vasco and Aloara made the decision to leave Seville and settle in Montijo, marking the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. Montijo, is nestled in the rolling plains of the Hedran interior. Known for its tranquil atmosphere, historic architecture, and sweeping vineyards, it offers a slower pace of life compared to the bustle of the capital. For the couple, it promises the chance to carve out their own space—away from the shadow of Empress Elvira.
When they arrive, however, it is clear that Montijo lacks the grandeur of a royal residence. The town is charming but without the facilities or prestige that might accommodate a prince and princess. Rather than be discouraged, Vasco takes a decisive step: he purchases an old, abandoned Cyanist convent on the outskirts of the town. The structure, though crumbling and overgrown, holds a quiet dignity. Its high stone walls, vaulted ceilings, and sprawling courtyards speak of its former glory.
“We’ll turn it into a palacete,” Vasco says to Aloara as they walk through the derelict halls for the first time. Dust motes swirl in the air, and the faint scent of old wood and dry stone lingers. He gestures around the vast main hall, his boots echoing on the cracked marble floor.
Aloara, dressed in an understated but elegant cream blouse and skirt, surveys the space with a discerning eye. She runs her fingers over a faded azulejo on the wall and smiles faintly. “It has potential.” She says.
Vasco smirks. “Leave the details and decoration to me, cara mia.”
The news of their move to Montijo and the purchase of the convent spreads quickly. It isn’t every day that the Prince of Ferragudo and his wife, the Princess of Velkisa, choose to settle in a small town far from the capital. The aristocracy of Hedra, always eager to follow trends, begins to take an interest in Montijo. Within months, Montijo becomes a magnet for exiled royals, wealthy nobles, and cosmopolitan socialites.
The convent’s transformation into a palacete is the talk of the region. Architects and artisans are brought in to restore the structure to its former glory while adding modern touches to suit the needs of a royal household. The once-barren courtyards are replanted with lush gardens, the long-abandoned chapel is converted into a grand ballroom, and the cloisters are turned into intimate salons for gatherings.
One afternoon, as Aloara inspects the progress on the gardens, always being shaded by Baston’s umbrella, Vasco joins her, a cigarette dangling lazily from his lips. “It’s strange,” he says, “seeing this place come alive. When we first came here, it was just ruins.”
Aloara looks up from the rows of lavender and rosemary being planted. “Montijo was quiet before. But now it’s something more. It’s becoming a place of significance. The birthplace of a dynasty.”
Vasco exhales a puff of smoke and nods. “It’s almost amusing. All these nobles flocking here just because we’re here. Makes you wonder if they’re more interested in the town or the novelty of rubbing elbows with us.”
Aloara raises an eyebrow. “Let them come. Let Montijo become something vibrant, something alive. Isn’t that what we wanted? A place where we could build something different?”
Vasco shrugs but smiles faintly. “You’re right.”
Over time, Montijo evolves. Aristocrats who had previously confined themselves to Seville begin moving to the town, buying estates or restoring old manors. Exiled royals from across the world, mainly old Rodinian families that have been long overthrown and whose descendants had not been chosen during the Great Rodinian Restoration, find a haven in Montijo, lending the town an international air. The streets become livelier, with new cafes, boutiques, and galleries springing up to cater to the influx of wealth and culture.
For Vasco and Aloara, their life in Montijo is a mix of personal freedom and social responsibility. They host salons and gatherings at their palacete, bringing together artists, intellectuals, and nobles in a way that feels fresh and exciting. Vasco, though often content to let Aloara take the lead when it comes to politics, finds himself enjoying the company of new acquaintances and the attention he gets from the parties.
One evening, as the couple sits in the newly refurbished library of the palacete, Vasco leans back in his chair, a glass of whiskey in hand. “We’ve outdone ourselves,” he says, gesturing around the room. “This place… it’s not just a house. It’s a statement.”
Aloara smiles, reclining on the velvet chaise across from him. “It’s a home,” she corrects gently. “A home for us and for our children.”
Vasco chuckles. “And for half the aristocracy, apparently. Do you think my Mother ever forgive us for stealing the spotlight from Seville?”
Aloara smirks. “Forgive us? No. But I don’t think she can deny that we’ve made something remarkable here.”
As the fire crackles in the hearth, Vasco raises his glass. “To Montijo,” he says, his voice warm with affection. “And to making it ours.”
As time goes by in Montijo, Vasco and Aloara’s family grows rapidly. Aloara gives birth to four sons—Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo—and one daughter, Phaedra. The boys, spirited and strong-willed, are raised with a clear purpose under Aloara’s meticulous guidance. She dreams of them inheriting her homeland, Velkisa, replacing her brother as heirs to the throne. Aloara pours her ambitions into their education and upbringing, molding them into the ideal rulers she envisions for Velkisa’s future.
But it’s Phaedra who captures Vasco’s heart most profoundly. Unlike her brothers, whose upbringing is driven by duty and ambition, Phaedra is allowed a freer childhood and is in line to succeed him in Hedra. Her striking appearance—a pixie cut of jet-black hair like her father’s and luminous violet eyes—makes her stand out in any room. Though only a child, she carries an almost ethereal grace. Vasco adores her curiosity and independent spirit, traits he sees as reflections of himself.
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