#2
The sun was setting over the city. The structures of glass and steel that stretched towards the heavens sparkling in the last rays of light; hopelessly trying to cling to daylight by reflecting the sun to other areas not directly illuminated. The Royal Palace, sitting atop the high cliff that stood in the middle of the city, magnificent in it's natural beauty and imposing in it's form. A citadel of red brick, the last remaining remnant of the cities legendary past. Stained-glass windows depicting significant events in history. Commodore Henry Christiansen stood on the stone balcony that extended out from the stately office of King Randolph XI, supreme monarch of the Kingdom of Glaus; one of two mega-powers that spanned the planet Vilnius.
"They are ruthless barbarians!" spat the opulent monarch as he rested on a divan, scantily clad young girls fanning him with giant leafs and feeding him fresh fruits from a silver platter. "No respect for good, civilized culture. It's their 'God!' They refuse to dismiss that ancient, idiotic thought of an omniscient being who declared it their divine right to rule over this planet. 'Divine right!' Can you imagine?! They dress in robes, grow their hair to unsightly lengths and never wash. Hardly a society of rulers, wouldn't you say?"
Christiansen looked out at the setting sun with a smile, but his voice was tired and bored. "Quite right, Randolph. Quite right. Still, they have five times the population and landmass under their control than you do, and can raise three times the army you can."
"Exactly!" the king shouted, attempting to sit himself up on the cushions, his flabby form evident under his silk pajamas. "That's why you're here, isn't it?! Yes, you and your fancy spaceships and guns. With Taledonian weaponry, we could sweep across their lands, erasing their barbarian cess pools they call cities, and establish good, cultured Glausian rule."
"You know what we offer." Christiansen turned from the sun and rubbed his thumb against his index finger, enjoying the sensation of cold that was left on his hands by the balcony ledge. His red uniform with silver buttons down the front fitting firmly against his powerful frame.
Randolph eyed the Commodore suspiciously. The man was too calm. Too proper. Too robotic. "It is a steep price. Very steep."
"The terms are non-negotiable."
The cold, blue eyes that stared down unflinchingly were disturbing. He was King of Glaus, and was not accustomed to dealing with anyone like this. The Taledonians had come. Swift and unexpectedly. Large starships appeared in the skies and in orbit of the planet, and they fired down swarms of soldiers dressed in intimidating power armor, wielding advanced weapons and technology that was easily five hundred years more advanced than anything on Vilnius. And this man, Christiansen, the commander of these strangers, had never even made the attempt to show subordination to Randolph. He barely treated the monarch as an equal, but more like the vassal king he knew he would become. "Did you bring the proper documents, Commodore?"
Christiansen signaled for a soldiers who stood at attention by the door to the office, who strode over promptly and produced a large brown envelope. Reaching inside, Christiansen removed several sheets of high-grade paper with small print on them. "You're required to sign everywhere required on each page."
"There's a lot to read, my friend."
"It states simply what was agreed upon. In exchange for outfitting your soldiers with our weaponry, your Kingdom will give us three-quarters of the contents of your current treasury, and will pay a bi-annual tribute of fifty-thousand pounds of gold for the next twelve years. Furthermore, your nation will henceforth be made completely open to Taledonian markets and enterprises."
"That wasn't part of the agreement!" shouted Randolph in a squeaky, pleading voice. "There was nothing about opening our economy to yours!"
"We changed the plan. We felt it would be a wise move. For both our peoples. With Taledonian companies moving into your nation, our peoples will become closer and better allies. Accept the agreement, King Randolph."
He signed.
"I believe that concludes our business. I thank you, monarch. If you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to, so I shall take my leave of your palace. You can expect the first shipment of arms by the end of the week."
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The shuttle shot across the darkened sky, chasing the setting sun around the horizon. The lands of Glaus passed below the craft, disappearing into the distance as it shot over the Sea of Trouble, the natural barrier between the Glaus Kingdom and the Mayer Empire. The landscape was vastly different. Whereas the Glaus inhabited lush river valleys and grasslands, the Mayer controlled vast deserts which melted into thick, dark and uninviting jungles. Unlike the Glaus, who built several small cities and towns that reached upwards, leaving much of the land to the country, the Mayer built sprawling metropolises of buildings no higher than eight floors. They were bizarre collections of ancient and new as structures that had stood for thousands of years sat next to modern apartments and offices. Basic water wells sat just a street away from major public pools. Rice farms were surrounded by factories and warehouses. The shuttle touched down in the square of the capital city of Gazdoo.
"Welcome, Outlander. We've been expecting you, but would have preferred you arrive when the sun was still high, so as God could look upon our meeting and see it as favorable."
"I apologize for my late arrival, but I had other affairs to attend to."
"As you say, Outlander. Please, follow us to the High Fane. Our Lord is anxious to meet with you."
The High Fane, or Palace of God, was a giant complex of concrete. Tucked within the high walls was a barracks, an armory, several stables where camels stood resting or chewing grains, and the High Fane itself. It looked like a temple or Islamic mosque, and was adorned in several colourful rugs. The entrance was flanked by two giants who acted as guards.
Entering the throne room, where a skinny man in a flowing blue robe sat upon a large amount of fluffy cushions on the floor, there was a distinct lack of grandeur. Carpets and rugs being the only adornments of the bare, concrete walls, and the floor had remained dirt. "God greets you, Outlander. Please, come sit with me and let us make peace."
Christiansen walked towards the Emperor of the Mayer and examined his features. He was an aging man, with skin dark and wrinkled by the sun. His body was taut and hard, like a cord, and his eyes blazed with a reverent fury and determination. "I'll stand. This should not take long. My officers have been in touch with you?"
The Emperor bowed his head slightly and replied simply. "Yes, they have."
"So you know what we offer and the price?"
"I do."
"Do you accept?"
"In the name of God, I do."
"Sign these documents, if you please." He handed over a few pages.
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[center]Official Report
Office of Strategic Affairs[/center]
[center]Subject:
Vilnius[/center]
Admiralty.
The peoples of Vilnius, completely engaged in war with each other, are both oblivious to the fact that we have sold both of them weapons in exchange for tribute and open markets. I predict a further escalation of engagement between the two, emboldened by their new weaponry, resulting in both sides becoming drastically weaker. This will allow an easy setting for Taledonian industry to move in and take control of the planets economies, further endebting them to our government and people, and moving them ever closer to being assimilated into our Empire. I suggest the creation of an invasion force to be ready to deploy at the end of the twelve year term, expecting both sides to be completely drained of funds and able-bodied soldiers, as well as being heavily in debt and under complete economic control by our enterprises. Full control over the planet can be achieved in thirteen years.
Commodore Henry Christiansen