Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Principality of Qua-Toyne

Today, the ministry buzzed like a hive—the atmosphere tense, the very air vibrating with urgency. Staff scurried between rooms, hurriedly exchanging stacks of papers. Critical documents passed from hand to hand, carefully reviewed and sorted into folders. Their task was clear: to prepare materials for a special diplomatic mission—the delegation set to depart for the enigmatic Russian Federation.

Qua-Toyne, though a small nation, had always managed its foreign affairs independently. Yet something about the recent rumors of a new country—vast and transported to this world in its entirety, according to astonishing reports—stirred a mix of awe and intrigue.

— "Yago!" called a colleague with a sly grin, nodding toward the young diplomat. "I hear you're headed to the Russian Federation? Ha! I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat—what a rare opportunity!"

Yago smiled but didn't respond immediately, reflecting on his colleague's words. Indeed, such journeys were uncommon, especially to nations that existed only in scattered reports or folklore.

Who could have imagined that a mythical continent, woven from legend, would turn out to be real? In a world where nations seemed to sprout and vanish like mushrooms after the rain, unexpected events were hardly unusual. But an entire continent materializing here? That was unprecedented.

This mission carried no small amount of risk. Many nations, enriched by new territories and resources, often pursued conquests and brutal competition. Others fractured into warring factions, each vying for dominance. Against this backdrop of instability, Qua-Toyne had to think carefully about its future. If they had a chance to form ties with a potential ally, they couldn't afford to let it slip away.

I wonder what awaits us there, Yago thought as he stepped into his office. Closing the door behind him, he sat at a massive wooden desk and began flipping through freshly delivered documents. Among them was a recent briefing with reports from the manacom (a magical communication transmitter). The descriptions were astonishing: a ship the size of a palace, aircraft soaring higher than any wyvern could ever reach... Ancient bestiaries still considered wyverns the undisputed kings of the skies.

— "Esteemed delegates, under no circumstances should you underestimate Russia's strength. Conduct yourselves with restraint and respect, no matter what marvels you encounter," read a note in the document. Yago chuckled—the authors had clearly tried to convey their apprehension in the politest terms.

He leaned back in his chair, contemplating his assignment. Images of wyverns filled his mind. These winged creatures, the pride of Qua-Toyne's military, could reach speeds of up to 230 kilometers per hour, leaving cavalry far behind. Their immense strength allowed them to attack enemies from heights unreachable by archers. Their fiery breath could turn entire battalions to ash, and even steel armor was no match for their destructive power.

But Russia appeared to possess something far more advanced. The reconnaissance reports described machines that outpaced wyverns and flew at unimaginable altitudes, beyond the reach of any living winged creature. For a moment, Yago entertained the thought of etching his name into Qua-Toyne's history if he could successfully establish ties with this mysterious nation.

His musings were interrupted by a knock at the door.
— "The meeting is about to start," said an attache, peeking inside. Yago rose and headed out.

The meeting began minutes later in a secured room at the ministry, centered around a large round table of dark wood. Here, everything was decided: objectives, protocols, precautions. Leadership had determined that sending an embassy to Russia was not merely a diplomatic gesture but a matter of national importance.

The mission comprised five members. Four were representatives of the foreign affairs order, and the fifth was General Hanki, an officer of the military order and a seasoned leader who had headed similar delegations before. Elder Kanata, the silver-haired yet sharp Minister of Foreign Affairs, opened the meeting, his voice steady and commanding:
— "Your primary goal," he said, his gaze shifting from one face to another, "is to assess the military capabilities of the Russian Federation. We need to understand whether they pose a threat to us. Their 'iron dragon' slipped through our airspace like a child outwitting the Sixth Squadron of the Dragon Order. If their true intent is hegemony or spreading oppression like the Kingdom of Louria, we must know before any agreements are signed."

Each attendee nodded in agreement, the weight of responsibility palpable in the room.

— "Your second objective," Kanata continued, "is to study their strengths and weaknesses. Russia may surpass us in technology and weaponry, but our strength lies elsewhere. Find out what we can offer them. They seek diplomatic relations, but that's no reason to be blinded by their military prowess."

The diplomats briefly exchanged puzzled and slightly anxious glances as they considered the details. One of them raised a brow and voiced the question that seemed to linger in the air:
— "Excuse me... but their country... an entire continent... was transported?"

All eyes turned to Kanata. He nodded solemnly.
— "Exactly. We don't know if their claims are true, but we cannot afford to doubt them."

Yago stared at the documents with a mix of awe and apprehension. Meeting the envoys of such a powerful nation could surely secure his place in Qua-Toyne's history. He felt the immense weight of his people's future resting on his shoulders.

— "Russia will provide a ship for your journey," Kanata concluded. "Prepare yourselves; departure is in a week. Your ultimate destination is Moscow, but you'll first spend a night in Sevastopol. There, you'll be introduced to Russian customs and etiquette to avoid any missteps."

The diplomats exchanged looks. Every new word from Kanata's mouth seemed like a riddle. High-speed trains covering a thousand kilometers in mere hours, metal carriages moving on their own... It felt as though everything they knew about the world had been rendered obsolete.

Once again, Yago felt a mix of excitement and unease. Could this new nation truly be so vast and powerful?

With these thoughts, he stood, readying himself for a journey that would shape Qua-Toyne's future.

A Week Later

Port of Maihark

The morning sun bathed the bustling port city, its golden rays illuminating the lively harbor. Near the Embassy of the Foreign Affairs Order, the Qua-Toyne delegation stood gathered—carefully selected for their crucial mission of meeting representatives from the enigmatic Russian Federation, a nation that had recently and suddenly emerged.

As the delegates arrived at the assembly point, a man in a sharp black suit and sunglasses approached them. Removing his glasses, he offered a polite smile, taking a brief bow before introducing himself.

—"Good morning. My name is Dmitry, a representative of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Russian Federation. I'll be accompanying you throughout your visit. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask."

The delegates collectively bowed in return, though the expressions on some of their faces betrayed mixed emotions. Some struggled to mask their nervousness, while others, like General Hanki, wore a more somber look.

— "Hanki, you seem down," — Yago remarked, scrutinizing the general's face. "Is everything alright?"

Hanki sighed, his gaze fixed on the shimmering sea.
"Ah, Yago..." he replied wearily. "Just call me by my name. I've been reassigned to the Order, so my rank doesn't carry over—at least not for official matters." He cast another glance at the distant horizon, where sailboats dotted the edge of the sky. "I can't shake the thought of another sea voyage. Ocean crossings… they're always the same: endless waves, unbearable dampness, limited supplies of water and food. Sure, two days isn't long, but we all know how time drags out there."

Yago nodded, recalling his own experiences of previous journeys: the cramped cabins, dark corridors heavy with the smell of moisture, and the ever-present sense of confinement while bracing for a storm. His face darkened as he imagined battling seasickness in the vast, open waters.

"I get it, Hanki," Yago said empathetically. "But they say this trip will be different. We've been promised comfort and speed. Maybe it won't be so bad. The Russians did say we'd make it in two days."

"Two days?" Hanki raised an incredulous brow. "That contradicts everything we know about the sea. Unless…" he trailed off, pondering. "Unless their ship really is as fast as those metal dragons described in the reports."

Dmitry's smart watch chimed softly, signaling the ship's arrival. He gestured for the delegates to follow him to the pier. Beyond the island, on the horizon, a massive vessel appeared, its hull gleaming under the sunlight.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Dmitry said with pride, pointing to the approaching ship, "this is your transport. Your ship to Russia."

The delegation froze, stunned by the sight. The vessel was enormous, its pristine white exterior dazzling. Most astonishing of all, it moved without a single sail.

"Wh-What is that?!" someone from the delegation stammered.

"How is this possible? No sails… and it's that massive?" Yago whispered in disbelief, his eyes fixed on the approaching behemoth.

Noticing their amazement, Dmitry offered a slight smile.
"This ship is designed to traverse the seas, covering great distances at high speeds. We would dock directly at the harbor, but the ship's draft is too deep. Instead, smaller boats will ferry us aboard."

Moments later, three sleek motorboats emerged from behind the cruise liner, cutting through the water with ease. Their streamlined bodies glided swiftly toward the port, sending up crystalline sprays.

Hanki raised his head and addressed Dmitry.
"These boats… How do they move without sails?" He searched his memory for anything similar but came up empty.

Dmitry squinted slightly before responding.
"They're powered by diesel engines," he explained, simplifying for clarity. "It's a system that burns fuel to generate power, which then turns a propeller. That's how they move."

"Hmm... Diesel engines," Yago muttered, struggling to picture such a mechanism.

"They remind me of the magical boats from the civilized lands…" Yago added, surprised.

"I wouldn't know about those boats," Dmitry replied with a chuckle.

When the motorboats docked, the delegation quickly boarded, bringing their luggage along. The smaller crafts glided swiftly across the water, and soon they found themselves on the deck of the colossal liner.

Once inside, the delegates fell silent. The ship's interior left them even more astounded. High ceilings, immaculate corridors, and grand halls illuminated by bright light made the vessel feel more like a palace than a maritime craft.

Their thoughts fixated on a single question:
How could an iron ship stay afloat? And how was this space so brilliantly lit without windows or fire? Was this... magic?

Staggered by the marvels before them, they exchanged bewildered glances. Dmitry, noting their astonishment, smirked slightly and beckoned them to follow him. Many more revelations awaited, and their journey to the mysterious Russian Federation had only just begun.

From Yago's Journal

"I have never in my life seen such a majestic vessel. The Russian representatives call it a 'liner.' Inside this colossal ship, the temperature remains constant, which is astonishing in itself—cool and refreshing during the hottest days, and warm and cozy on cold nights. The ship glides over the waves with such speed and smoothness that it feels like flying, akin to a swift wyvern, outracing the wind itself. Could the Russian Federation truly be capable of engineering such marvels?

We've heard rumors that their society is built on scientific knowledge. Yet in this world, everything relies on magical forces, even the scientifically advanced civilization of Mu incorporates magic to some extent. It's not they who are barbarians to us, but we to them. If they can create something like this, their power might rival that of the strongest nations in the Civilized Lands…"

Hanki couldn't sleep. The silence of the night felt profound, and the moonless ocean seemed to pull his thoughts into its depths. Seeking some respite, he decided to take a walk and headed to the deck. The quiet was undisturbed, save for the gentle hum of the liner's lights illuminating small pockets of the ship's exterior.

Before long, he stumbled upon a cozy lounge area with soft chairs and tables. A few members of the delegation were already there, enjoying the serene night. They noticed him, waving him over to join them.

"Hanki, can't sleep?" one of his companions asked, leaning back in a chair and sipping a drink.

"No, I'm still not used to this place." Hanki looked around, as if trying to grasp the reality of his surroundings. "You all seem to have settled in, though."

"They gave us a tour of the liner, and now we're wrapping it up with a little 'get-together,'" his companion replied with a grin, offering a glass filled with a sparkling liquid. "Try this—it's called a 'cocktail.' Quite remarkable."

As Hanki took a closer look, he noticed the deck resembled a miniature oasis. A small pool shimmered nearby, surrounded by lounge chairs and tables. Hesitantly, he accepted the glass, its colorful contents catching the light, and settled into one of the chairs. He took a sip and was immediately struck by the drink's refreshing taste, awakening new sensations with every swallow.

"A massive ship moving without sails or oars," Hanki mused, gazing at the pool where the ship's lights reflected on the water. "And now this 'cocktail'… Incredible."

Another sip, and a rare, relaxed smile appeared on his face. The coolness of the drink mingled perfectly with the warm night air, making the evening aboard the liner feel almost surreal. Hanki leaned back in his chair, a sense of calm gradually replacing his usual anxiety.

"This is… wonderful."

Two Days Later

"We're approaching Sevastopol," Dmitry's calm voice carried a note of pride. "Sevastopol is the largest city in Crimea," he said, gesturing toward the horizon where the coastline was now visible. "Over there is the Sevastopol Maritime Trade Port. A convoy is waiting to take you to the Sevastopol Hotel, where you'll be staying."

The Kva-Toine delegation peered ahead with interest. The city looked like a living painting: rows of colorful buildings, intertwined roads, and tiny figures bustling along the waterfront. Everything seemed new and extraordinary. Even the familiar sound of the sea felt different here, as though the waves whispered something unique and unfamiliar.

Upon reaching the pier, the delegation boarded sleek black SUVs. During the ride, Dmitry explained the features of their transportation, but what amazed the guests most was the sheer number of vehicles on the streets.

"Dmitry, do you really have so many of these… machines?" one of the delegates asked, observing the streams of cars around them.

"Yes, most families in the Russian Federation own at least one car," Dmitry replied with a slight smile. "Even a worker can afford a mid-range vehicle. Our standard of living allows for it."

The delegation exchanged glances, their astonishment evident. To say they were impressed by this level of prosperity would be an understatement.

Upon arrival at the hotel, Dmitry gestured toward the cozy chairs in the lobby.

"Please have a seat while I handle your check-in," he said, heading toward the front desk.

In just a few minutes, he returned, holding small boxes.

"My friends, I apologize for the wait. Here, take these for the duration of your stay in the Russian Federation."

"What are these?" Hanki asked, examining the box's contents closely.

"They're watches, devices for measuring time," Dmitry explained. "These are some of our latest models."

"Thank you very much," Hanki said, accepting the gift with evident curiosity.

"You're welcome. Enjoy them. Soon, you'll be shown to your rooms, followed by a brief introduction to our technology and culture. Tomorrow, the Victory Parade will take place, so some streets will be closed."

"Pardon me, but what exactly is a 'Victory Parade'?" Hanki asked, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"It's a grand event," Dmitry said, adjusting his watch. "It commemorates the Soviet Union's victory over Nazi Germany. May 9 marks the end of a war that claimed millions of lives. It's a symbol of our resilience and triumph over fascism. The parade showcases military strength, achievements, and honors those who sacrificed their lives for freedom. Due to recent events, the parade was postponed, but now it will finally happen."

"Hmm… intriguing," Hanki murmured, stroking his chin with a slight smile. "I'd be interested in witnessing it."

"Excellent. Just give me a moment," Dmitry said, pulling out a small black device with a five-pointed star on its back, resembling a manacom. He began speaking softly, as though in conversation with someone.

The delegation observed, exchanging glances. Such a compact communication device was a novelty to them.

After finishing, Dmitry cleared his throat and addressed the delegation again.

"Everything is arranged. You'll be escorted to your accommodations, and later, there will be a tour."

The delegation members' faces brightened. For someone like Hanki, the opportunity to observe the Russian Federation's military forces was particularly exciting.

"I'd love that as well," Yago chimed in, raising his hand with a smile.

The remaining three members of the delegation expressed their eagerness to explore the city, to immerse themselves in its streets and experience life in this enigmatic, highly advanced place.

The Next Day. Sevastopol.

The ceremonial square was packed with people: spectators and military personnel from all over Russia. The Victory Parade was in full swing, and despite the overcast sky, the crowd's spirit was uplifting. Amidst the sound of fanfare and the hum of the crowd, Yago and Hanki sat on soft chairs under a canopy, shielding themselves from the light drizzle, with Dmitry patiently beside them, explaining the details.

They watched with anticipation and unhidden curiosity—this parade was a rare chance to witness the capabilities of the Russian Federation.

— Attention! — the announcer's voice cut through the noise of the crowd. — Overhead, the Su-57 fifth-generation multirole fighter, capable of reaching speeds of 900 kilometers per hour!

Hanki's eyes widened, and he nearly gasped in astonishment, but he restrained himself, exclaiming instead:
— What?! Nine hundred kilometers per hour?! Dmitry, that's incredible! — his voice betrayed him, wavering at the end.

Dmitry, with a barely noticeable smile, nodded calmly.
— No, you didn't mishear, Hanki. Exactly nine hundred.

High above, what initially appeared as a tiny dot rapidly approached, nearly silent. As the Su-57 cut through the sky above the spectators, a powerful, thunderous roar followed, as if a colossal piece of fabric was being torn apart in midair. The unexpected boom caused many in the audience to lean back, holding their breath.

— Unbelievable… — Hanki whispered, almost spellbound. — Is that the same 'dragon' that flew over Myhark?

Dmitry, still composed, replied:
— No, that aircraft was a reconnaissance plane designed for gathering intelligence. This Su-57 is a fighter, built for air combat. Its primary purpose is to eliminate enemy targets in the sky.

The Su-57 finished its pass over the square, roaring as it disappeared into the heavens. Its swift flight left the audience both exhilarated and slightly uneasy. The crowd erupted in applause, the sound echoing off the square's walls.

At this moment, Dmitry began explaining the fighter's flight mechanics, describing the technology that allowed the Su-57 to achieve such speeds, maneuver with unprecedented precision, and vanish from an enemy's sight. He detailed the rigorous training pilots undergo to master such a complex machine. Yago listened with an intense focus, while Hanki, utterly overwhelmed, kept his gaze fixed on the sky, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed.

Troubling images flitted through Hanki's mind. He envisioned these formidable fighters soaring over his homeland, obliterating their wyverns as if they were insignificant insects. All of this, with no threat to themselves...

With a trembling voice, he murmured:
— These fighters could fly over our heads, destroying our wyverns like it's child's play…

Yago and Hanki had come face-to-face with a nation far more advanced, powerful, and enigmatic than they could have ever imagined. This experience left an indelible mark on their souls.

Later That Day.

From Hanki's Personal Journal.

"I'm becoming increasingly convinced that any aggressive action against the Russian Federation is not just unwise—it's outright dangerous. Their arsenal boasts forces that could shake even the most battle-hardened commander. Their heavy combat vehicles, which they call tanks and armored personnel carriers, are nothing short of monsters on wheels. And their artillery? I don't even want to delve into the details—just recalling what I saw leaves an indelible impression on me.

Had their metal war dragon, the so-called Tu-160, flown over Myhark, wielding its destructive power, we wouldn't have had time to blink before our city was engulfed in flames. For them, such devastation would take mere minutes. Let's put it this way: their so-called 'invasion' would be little more than a reconnaissance raid, leaving the earth beneath our feet scorched. This is a truly terrifying force, and we must strive to remain on the side of peace.

We must do everything in our power to establish friendly relations with the Russian Federation rather than seek to disrupt them. Nothing is more perilous than making an enemy of such a powerful nation. If they are willing to show us respect, we cannot afford to show hostility or squander the chance for peace. After all, they are not like the other states of the Civilized Lands. We cannot afford to repeat past mistakes—certainly not in this situation No matter what, we must exercise wisdom and caution. Hostility and aggression in our world could cost us far more than we might anticipate. Russia is not an enemy we can afford to face in conflict. I am confident that our future hinges on how wisely we handle this matter."

Hotel "Sevastopol."

Luxury Suite.

— Yago… shall we drop the formalities and switch to "you"? — Hanki asked, hesitating for a moment.

— Sure. What's on your mind? — Yago replied, slightly surprised by the question.— What do you think of the Russian Federation? — Hanki asked, his gaze wandering over the luxurious room's details.

Yago didn't answer immediately, lost in thought. After a few seconds, he finally spoke:

— If I had to sum it up in one word, I'd say "abundance." Here, in the hotel, comfort and convenience are everywhere. The temperature is consistent—not just in the room but even in the lobby and hallways. And don't get me started on that system that lets you get hot water right from the tap—just turn it, and there it is. Everything here is meticulously thought out, all within arm's reach. Hungry? A simple vending machine, press a button, and voilà, a hot meal. They can even deliver food directly to your home. The streets are so well-lit, it's as if the darkness never falls. Public order is impeccable, and it irritates me because everything is so perfect that you can't help but feel inadequate. I admit, they outclass us on all fronts.

Yago fell silent, his face pale. A flicker of fear crossed his eyes as if he was overwhelmed by the weight of his own helplessness. It took him a few minutes to continue:

— And their Victory Parade… It stunned us, not just with the remarkable unity of their people but also with their latent power. We saw their fighters soar through the sky, their iron chariots move across the ground, and so many other incredible machines whose names I can't even recall.

The tanks and howitzers left a particularly strong impression on Yago. Reflecting on it, he admitted that the memory still filled him with dread.

— Honestly, I'd rather not even think about the possibility of them becoming our enemies. With such potential and such power… I can't fathom how we could ever fight them.

— I couldn't agree more. Their military capabilities utterly dwarf ours, — Hanki concurred, his expression turning resolute. — All our tactics and strategies for warfare would be utterly useless in such a confrontation. You're right. We can't even begin to grasp what we'd be up against. Tomorrow, we're heading to their capital. Russia… this country—it's a strain on my heart, but I can't deny their strength.

— You're right, — Yago said. — A country like this, and it ended up right next to us, in our region, with technologies far beyond anything in the Civilized Lands. We're the first ones they've contacted. If they have no ambition for world domination, if their plan isn't hegemony, then this could undoubtedly benefit us. But… who knows what their true goals are?

Yago spoke with a tone of unease, though his outward demeanor remained calm. He understood that the following day might mark a pivotal moment.

Hanki remained silent, his thoughts circling around Yago's words. After a long pause, he finally responded:

— Maybe we're overthinking this. Everything will be clearer tomorrow. For now, let's get some sleep. We need to be ready for whatever awaits us.

Yago nodded, and despite their worries and apprehensions, they both lay down to rest. Yet their minds remained alert, refusing to grant them peace, even in their dreams.