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Wolfs Ghost · 01-12-2011, 03:26 AM,

"MÃ©fiez-vous de tout le monde, et particulier de ceux qui conseillent de vous mÃ©fier.
Don't trust anyone, especially those who advise you not to trust anyone".
-- La Robertie.

'Monsieur DeFrance, may I enter the room?' Came a knock, and a call, from the nearby door, as Joseph sat up from his bed and looked over. 'Oui, come in.' He replied lightly, the door opened and a servant entered the room bowing before him. 'Milord,' She said, 'The King has asked me to relay a message to you. He wishes for you to organize a reception for our guest once he has landed here at the palace.' She looked over at one of the clocks, a unique sun dial that Joseph had in his room and sighed lightly before looking at the other clock nearby. 'He's suppose to be here within the hour, your highness.' She said again, her blue eyes quickly looking over him, before meeting his gaze.

'Very well.' He said lightly, he waved for her to leave, which she quickly did fearing the possible worse in the very near future. Standing up from the bed he walked slowly over towards the closet and opened it. Three uniforms were hung neatly up on hangers. Crisp white uniforms with blue trims and silver buttons. He reached in for the Royal Guard uniform that he frequently wore to various outings with fellow officers.

The rank of Marechal was pinned on the shoulder, he had recently arrived to New Paris following word of his own promotion. Which was given to him publicly, and he still had a minor headache from the parties afterward. He smirked remembering the past couple of nights, which was rudely interrupted by another knock at the door, followed by the door being opened. Still holding onto the uniform he turned around and looked at the person who had entered.

It was Julie, a captain of the Royal Guard, the leader of his detail who was also wearing a white dress, which was not as unusual as one would think with this captain. It wasn't widely known, but the two had a connection and she's been loyal faithful to him ever since she became his concubine, spouse, or was lover the correct term. He sighed lightly and shook his head walking over to the bed and laying the uniform down. 'You do know not to barge in like that. Especially after these parties.' He said, smiling lightly. She bowed, 'I understand milord. I was informed that you were to lead a detail for a reception?' Joseph simply nodded, sliding on the white dress pants with blue trim down the sides. 'I've picked twenty of the best men to be assigned to the detail. I've also picked three teams of snipers and have them placed around the platform that this, Sirian, is suppose to land at.'

Sliding an white undershirt over his head and pulling it down, he looked over at the woman and nodded, 'A little bit to much protection, don't you think, Julie?' He asked, a small smirk formed on his lips. It was one of the characteristics that he had come to love in the woman. Cautious, and protective. The average joe would probably say over-protected, but Joseph wasn't an average joe, more of a man of privilege than anything else, every day was a risk. Especially in the middle of a civil war, where the average joe could turn out to be an enemy waiting to strike. He looked away and reached for the white blouse which he quickly put on, and buttoned up. 'How long until the guest has arrived?'

'It shouldn't be much longer. Milord. Do you want me to get the reception party ready?'
'Oui. Now would be the best time. Dismissed.'
'Oui, sire.'

She bowed briefly and quietly exited the room.

Joseph glanced down at his uniform jacket. He preferred more civilized clothing, but given the current situation, looking his best rather than his worse was probably the brightest idea he had these past two days, and surely he would be hearing from his father once the small political crap was out of the way. He smiled lightly, the thought of killing this Sirian would please a lot of people, maybe he'll have the chance to do such. Or maybe he'll like this person. It really depended on how he presented himself to the king, and to the Prince. Though, another thought quickly crossed his mind as well. Was his father getting soft, letting a Sirian come all the way to New Paris, and to the very palace in which his family resided in. He shook his head, stirring the thought away.

There was a Sirian to meet, and Joseph wasn't the type to settle with a late entrance. He slipped the jack around and buttoned it up. Quickly looking over for any imperfections before placing his dress shoes on and leaving out the room.

Remaining minutes of the hour passed, and Joseph watched as the vessel landed on the designated platform. 'Detail,' He barked, the order echoing throughout the silent hallway. 'Attention!' Two columns flanked him, each and every guard moved with precise precision snapping to attention with their rifles at their side. 'Port. Arms!' He barked again, the guards snapped their rifles in unison in a diagonal line across their chests.. 'Outward face!' The columns turned outwards. He looked over at the Guard captain who approached him, 'Sniper teams are in position, Milord. Should anything go wrong, they'll take all the targets down.'

He nodded slowly as she stepped next to him. 'Forward. March!' He barked once more, turning quickly as both of the columns began moving out. Heavy boots clashed with the floor, echoing in the hallway. The reception party proceeded out and into the open along the walkways.

They continued until the formation was close to the Sirian's. 'Detail. Halt!' He barked for the last time. The formation took one more step and as if were perfectly calibrated robots, stopped in unison. Joseph smirked ever-so-lightly, clasping his hands behind his back. Taking a couple of steps towards the middle of both formations, glaring directly at the man in he assumed was the guest of honor.

'Bonjour, Monsieur. Welcome to New Paris.' He said loud enough for the Sirian to hear him. His former smirk disappearing.

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