Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith)
Subject: [NTY] Life at the Court, Part II.
Message-ID: <1993Jul7.103155.22208@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu>
References: <1993Jul6.044149.14513@midway.uchicago.edu> <1993Jul7.002828.17536@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu>
Date: Wed, 7 Jul 93 10:31:55 GMT

ADMIN: This was origionally going to be all one post.

In our last exciting episode:
> "STATE YOUR NAME FOR THE RECORD."  The bailiff/master-at-arms/Lord Chamberlain
>/*Something* didn't exactly shout, but projected his voice rather nicely.
>  "Palandun Lintesul?" Palandun said, not exactly sure any more.
>  "STATE THE NAMES OF YOUR FATHERS."  the *something* continued.
>  "I only had one father, his name was...um...Thalion Lintesul."
And now:

  "STATE YOUR TITLES." the other continued.
  "Titles?"
  "Your titles, you know, your rank.  The thing that makes you a nobleman."
  "Oh.  I don't have any.  Nobody from my country does.  I'm an ambassador
if that helps."
  "I'm afraid not, that's the next question.  Are you sure you don't have
any titles?"
  "Military rank?  No?  Rats."
  "Come now, what were you born?"
  "A homo sap male."  The *something* didn't particularly care for this
answer, but took it.
  "STATE YOUR BUSINESS."  He boomed.
  "I come looking for a fugitive.  A slave trader by the name of Gunther
Toodie.  He is wanted in generica for selling several citizens into 
slavery, including his wife."
  "VERY WELL, DOES THE SHAHERAN GRANT AN AUDIENCE?"  The boom was followed
by a loud gong.  "Walk this way." The man said.
  "If I could walk that way, I wouldn't need a doctor." Palandun quipped to
himself.

  "THE SHAHERAN OF RAMESHAN, RULER OF THE MOST ADVANCED KINGDOM OF NEXUS,
ALL TREMBLE AND FALL FLAT UPON YOUR FACES."  Some kind of Grandaddy boomer
said after Palandun had staged himself in the throne room.  The rest of the
entorague promptly hit the dirt,  Palandun elected to remain standing.
  "Well I guess you aren't going to call me 'kid,' anyway." Palandun
said, striding up to the throne, "Pleased t'meetcha, I'm Palandun Lintesul."
  The Shaheran stood 5'3 and looked to be about fourteen years old.  A 
very annoyed fourteen, to be sure, but still fourteen.  "Lord Emsy," the
child looked at the prostrate Boomer, "Would you please instruct our...guest
on the proper rules of Court ettiquite?"
  "CERT-"
         "Don' bother." Palandun interrupted.  "Shaheran, you wish me to show
respect?  In my country no one is respected until they earn it and no one is
bowed to, ever."
  "You are in my country."  Palandun had to admit, he had a point there.
  "I gotta admit.  You got a point there."  The Bismanian bowed deeply,
from the waist.
  "I am satisfied.  Rise, subjects."  The Shaheran ordered.  "Now, Ambassador,
what is it you want?"
  "I'm chasing a fugitive, a man who traded slaves in generica.  He is wanted
by the courts there."
  "I thought slavetrading was illegal in generica?"
  "It is, that's why he's wanted by the courts."
  "Well then, if our brother Generica wishes him, he shall have him.  You
have the full support and cooperation of this government.  Lord Emsy, show
the ambassador one of the apartments.  You will meet with my chief of spies
after dinner.  You will join us for dinner, no?"
  "Sounds like a plan."
  "A plan it is.  We will see you then.  This audience is ended."
With that, the child got up and walked off.