Seeing Colours
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Saint Dominico
March 29, 2022Spring has come to Saint Dominico. The breaths of new life and a new season felt tangible in the air, which felt fresh, crisp and rejuvenating. Lent was also reaching its zenith, which meant that Easter and Easter celebrations were only around the corner. There was an air of excitement and determination that seemed to blanket the atmosphere of the city, which also stood ready to welcome a special foreign guest.
Inquista was bracing itself for the Head of State of Istkalen, who had just landed at Ludovico II International Airport. The airport was located on the shoreline of Inquista, where it was built on its own island, separated by various canals that dominated the southern cityscape of Saint Dominico. The Head of State was escorted off his plane, and was greeted by a red carpet at his feet, and the Saint Dominico City Guard that stood before him.
The Saint Dominico City Guard stood at attention and lined both sides of the red carpet. The City Guard raised their sabres as the Head of State made his way to a black limousine that stood at the other side of the red carpet. With their sabres in the air, the City Guard saluted him and chanted "For Holy Justice" three times in perfect unison.
The Head of State was helped into his limousine by a tall dark man, who was an assigned member of the Head of State's security detail while in Inquista. Within seconds, the limousine was off, and was followed by a long convoy of black SUVs. All the vehicles sported small flags of Istkalen on their bonnets. The convoy of cars headed to the Archbishop's Palace, which was located in Saint Dominico's Square.
The limousine convoy criss-crossed over several canals, traversed down several narrow city paths, and passed numerous city squares and public monuments over the course of its journey.
After some time, the limousine eventually arrived at Saint Dominico's Square. Another red carpet waited for the Head of State, which extended all the way from one side of the square to the other side, where the Archbishop's Palace sat perched beside Saint Dominico's Basilica. The City Guard once again stood at attention beside the red carpet, who again raised their sabres into the air as the Head of State exited his limousine and stepped onto the carpet. The City Guard turned in unison and saluted him.
Archbishop Mikaela Kligenberg stood at the top of the stairs to the Archbishop's Palace, where she keenly watched the Istkalenic Head of State. The Archbishop very softly smiled and beamed an aura of quiet confidence. The Archbishop admirably watched as the City Guard saluted the Head of State as he began to make his way down the carpet towards her. Carmen de Bello, the anthem of the Inquistan Military, was played by an orchestra located in the far left-hand side of the square.
Members of the public watched from the sidelines, behind the City Guard. The public were kept behind red velvet rope barriers, where they made quite the raucous in appreciation of the visiting Istkalener. As is custom, the Bank of Inquista minted commemorative coins to mark the occasion of a formal state visit, and young Inquistan children adorned in ornate costumes were tasked with throwing these commemorative coins, as well as fake chocolate coins and other sweets, into the onlooking crowd. The onlookers waved Inquistan and Istkalenic flags, and attempted to catch the coins and sweets with spectacular enthusiasm.
When the Head of State of Istkalen finally reached the stairs, and descended to the top, the Archbishop extended her arms out to greet her guest. The Archbishop clasped both of the Head of State's hands and drew him in, kissing both his cheeks, as is the Inquistan customary way of greeting someone. The Archbishop then promptly turned to face the members of the press who were in the crowd, and were taking pictures of the initial meeting between the two leaders.
Mikaela had heard through President Albína Reiserová of Czech Slavia that Mr. Rikkalek was a rather anxious and aloof figure, and she was worried that the Head of State's anxiousness could perhaps be caught on camera and made to be embarrassment by the Inquistan media circus. The Archbishop quickly placed her hand on the Head of State's back, and gently straightened his posture. Utilising her fourth-grade ventriloquism training - which she acquired after running away from home to join the circus - the Archbishop softly instructed the Head of State to place his right foot slightly forward, turn his left foot away from his body, straighten his shoulders, place his hands on his upper thighs, and most importantly, to smile. The Archbishop masterfully managed to explain this while maintaining an unbroken smile.
After a wave of camera shutter sounds echoed from the members of the press, Inquista Triumphantis, Inquista's national anthem, began to play while an Inquistan flag was raised at the centre of the square. The City Guard again chanted "For Holy Justice" three times, before then chanting, "Sanctus Iustitiae, puram".
The national anthem of Istkalen, Intermezzo, was then performed by the orchestra as Istkalenic flags were raised on the left and right-hand side of the Inquistan flag.
"I love the pride flag, it's so inclusive," the Archbishop commented sweetly while eyeing the flags of Istkalen.
With the flags raised and the national anthems played, the Archbishop then shook hands with the Head of State and posed yet again for the members of the press.
A smartly-dressed and handsome man suddenly ascended the stairs and presented the Archbishop with a small, gold-plated and diamond-encrusted music box. The Archbishop gently received the music box and then displayed it to Rikkalek. Music boxes became widely popularised household accessories in Inquista after their invention in the city, and lavish ones such as this have continued to remain popular heirlooms within Inquistan culture. The Archbishop pressed the music box open, and a black swan forged out of black onyx gemstone popped out. The onyx black swan, which was flying with both its wings reached out at its maximum wingspan, began to slowly spin clockwise as a song titled Black Swan began to play softly from the music box. Simultaneously, the orchestra began to play the song in unison with the music box. When the music finished playing, the Archbishop closed the music box and handed it to the Head of State, smiling sweetly as she gave him his gift. “It’s all yours.”
The Archbishop then suddenly turned her heels and motioned for Rikkalek to follow her to the Archbishop's Palace behind them. Mikaela carefully led the way to the Palace and opened the door for her guest.
Inside the Palace, the Archbishop took another look at Rikkalek and studied him intently once more. President Reiserova's description of the Istkalenic Head of State's cold anxiousness rang in the back of her mind. The Archbishop then recalled her cousin Silas' description of Istkaleners, whom he less generously described as 'man-hating lesbians'. For some reason, these combined descriptors left the Archbishop with the impression that the Istkalenic Head of State was either old, not good-looking, or both. Rikkalek turned out to be both young and handsome, which pleasantly surprised the Archbishop. Mikaela's initial expectations had been exceeded.
"Welcome to Inquista and welcome to Saint Dominico! This is your first time visiting us, right? I can't believe we haven't met before. Please, come this way! How are you? I hope you had a good flight?" the Archbishop kindly asked as she gently placed her hand on Rikkalek's shoulder and gestured for him to follow her.
The Archbishop led the Head of State through the palace, past numerous frescoes, ancient artifacts that were plundered from the holy lands in various crusades, statues sculpted by famous Inquistan Renaissance sculptors, and of course, prizes and awards that Mikaela herself had accrued during her career as a pop star, which were also treated as if they were important national treasures.
Mikaela led Rikkalek to her palace spa room. There, two Czech aestheticians greeted the pair of leaders and then individually directed to two beautiful wooden room dividers, where they were then instructed to change into swim attire.
After changing into their spa clothes, the leaders were taken to two large mud baths that were prepared in the main spa area. The mud was specially imported from Nofoaga, where it was dug up and infused with the ash and minerals from the volcanic disaster that wrecked the country. The ash-infused mud was also blessed by local Nofoagan shaman. The mud was said to be very healing and good for the body. The Archbishop explained all of this with great enthusiasm as she slowly dipped her toes into her mud bath and carefully lowered herself into it. The Archbishop motioned for the Head of State to do the same.
Some moments later, the aestheticians began working on face masks for the leaders, and also brought them some mojitos to drink.
"Mr. Rikkalek, may I call you Rikky? Please feel free to call me Mikaela," the Archbishop began before taking a sip of her mojito and releasing a satisfied sigh.
"Well, I think this moment is just what we needed. The pressure of being Head of State is a lot, right? Oh gosh, after that long ceremony outside, this hits the spot. I really do wish we had a chance to meet earlier. I don't know too much about you Rikky, so please tell me more about yourself. Are you married? Seeing someone? What's the scoop on you?"
Mikaela smiled at one of aestheticians, and without saying a word, one of them handed the Archbishop an electronic tablet. "I want to show you a picture of my daughter, Alexandra, and my fiancé, Tomás. They're my absolute everything!"
The Archbishop unlocked the tablet and moved the screen close enough to the Head of State so that he could see it. However, as Mikaela unlocked the device, the screen displayed the front page of a smutty Briguilar fanfic that was written on Wattpad. The Archbishop froze in embarrassment long enough for Rikkalek to catch what was going on the tablet, before Mikaela suddenly dunked the tablet in the mud bath while in shock and horror.
"Oh woops, I'm so clumsy! I have no idea what happened there. Oh well, I can just put it in some rice and I'm sure the tablet will be fixed," the Archbishop commented while nervously laughing.
Mikaela handed the mud-covered tablet to one of aestheticians and signaled for them to leave and let the leaders be at peace.
"Now that we're alone, we'll get to the real tea. It's always good to be in the know, right? To know all the drama, the scandals, the affair, the feuds... do you have any gossip from Istkalen?
Things have been pretty quiet in the College of Bishops, but rumour has it that Bishop Helenus has yet another woman who is going to Prague. Very sad.
Oh, and did you hear about Premier Biden's campaign rally here in Saint Dominico? They say he hired a former campaign aide to act as a plant. They had the poor guy pretend to be homeless and ask some sort of question about the EU budget. It was all a set up. Can you believe it?"
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He was perhaps a little disgusted by the pomp and circumstance. Did these people see their leaders as gods sent down from high? Even in Istkalen, where the devotion to him made him feel constantly uncomfortable, nauseous, it was not this bad. There, at least, there was an understanding that the politicians had to be kept in their place. Their lives were monastic, but for them, unlike the monk, there was no privacy. They were not above; they were fallible people with too much power for their own good who eventually would be corrupted and then had to be thrown out.
Sent to live some velvet exile in an embassy abroad, strangled with piano wire by an aide, thrown out on the street and trampled on by joyous, hysterical crowds, all of these had happened, were possibilities. And of course the horrific death of Elspeth Arkalis, sent into exile and even then flayed alive and dismembered, still was in the public memory.
He hoped that it would not happen to him, that he would die, when he had to, peacefully, that he wouldn't be removed violently, that he would be able to leave office in a normal way, still liked or tolerated, at the very least. That he would be the one to have ended these hundred years of chaos. Maybe, maybe,, but all the same that was idealism, a dream.
As he walked through the Archbishop's Palace, he marveled at the extreme opulence. Such riches, in Istkalen, would have been cause for lynching. This was, he thought, the home of someone whose reign would eventually fall like a house of cards, like his washed-up great aunt, the last Empress of Istkalen, who had hoarded wealth for herself and for her court, living in gilded towers, all crashing down when ordinary, suffering people had had enough. Wealth was never sustainable; it corrupted and turned people against you. It was a curse, a disease. He remembered, again, the proclamations of the old communist leader, who had, quietly and meekly, agreed before Malk to retire to a village in the mountains. It was then that he had really become suspicious of the new, now old, arrangement the two of them had struck, wasn't it?
But then again, Malk, as duplicitous and untrustworthy as she was, had told him that Ms. Kligenberg was "like a child;" she had further implied that she suffered from mental illness. But, again, Malk was a liar who wanted to turn everyone against him, who in the end had wanted to kill him. Nothing that came out of her mouth could have been trusted.
But now was not the time to think these thoughts, but rather to try to represent the nation.
"Um, well, Mikaela," he said, finding the nickname she had come up with strangely endearing, "of course you...you can call me that."
"Pressure...it's been a lot less since the New Year, I'd say. For whatever reason all the...crazies seemed to have vanished around then. There's still a lot to do, but it's not as bad as it was before. I hope this isn't insulting, given that you're the head of a church, but there isn't any marriage in Istkalen, and I don't really understand what it..is. In terms of seeing others...I haven't been in a stable relationship since the war, before that I'd been with someone for a few years, but now it's impossible. Restrictions! I'm also, incidentally, not allowed to own anything of my own, not allowed to accept any money or anything of any value for myself - I can do it on behalf of the Republic, though. It gets to the point where there are laws regulating the firmness of the furniture I use - it's not mine, it's shared by the whole of the government, and it cannot be comfortable and cannot be worth more than some amount, I forget what it is exactly. Becoming a member of the government in Istkalen is a bit like becoming a monk or a nun."
"Anyways, I used to be an engineer; I miss it, things are crazy in the government. I don't know anyone there, it's bitterly lonely."
As Mikaela held the tablet for him to see, he quickly realized that it was not, in fact, displaying images of her fiance and daughter, but rather of something.unspeakable.
He sighed, speechless, and decided to pretend to have not seen what had been there.
"Oh, well, it's OK. Hopefully I'll get to see your...family, yes, another time."
"There's more drama than there needs to be," he continued, answering Mikaela's question on gossip. Two months ago, it would have been an understatement. But things had changed.. The personal disagreements and petty feuds that had practically defined politics but two months ago had been pushed aside; they continued unabated in an irrelevant, dark corner, but no longer had any sway over the functioning over the country. He was the one who had accomplished that. The occupation had provided the chance; and he had taken it it wholeheartedly. Would anyone else have done so?
It was then that he realized that being completely truthful would have some negative effects. To describe in complete detail the constant intrigues, the murders, and the general licentiousness that had prevailed in the government prior to him- and again, he realized that he had genuinely accomplished something for the good of the Republic - would lower the already low estimation of Istkalen in the eyes of perhaps everyone abroad. Some of it would have to be said, yes, but not everything, and not in complete detail.
He sighed again. "Well, several months ago we had a minister who was obsessed with these bizarre...theories about men. I don't know why he did this, it seemed to be related to that obsession, but he decided to put some of his...excrement in someone's tea, the minister in charge of planning the economy, Demirkol, after she rejected his advances. She was understandably quite upset about this, and therefore she came to me and asked for him to be removed. Obviously he was, he was replaced with some unpleasant man who believes that everything is illegal. We had an election recently; the fired minister tried to bribe journalists to defame Demirkol, and then tried to order a hitman to kill her., because he thought that she had ruined him or something of that sort, nothing in his confession made any sense. We kept it quiet because, well, it sounds bad, doesn't it? But he's locked away in prison now, so please, don't worry."
"Kalju Ilves, who directs the engineers' association, has also broken up, pretty dramatically, with his partner, some diplomat or other. It was for political reasons, it turned out that he - the diplomat, of course - was a raving conspiracy theorist. The breaking point was when the diplomat texted him about some bizarre ritual involving bathing in tomato paste to ward off Reitzmic assassins, or something of that sort. Said diplomat has now shared on his insta that Kalju was a participant in some demonic ritual involving members of the J-TAI. Kalju, for his part, is now telling me to recall his former partner because, according to him, he is a danger to foreign relations, which I agree completely with. But Isteresskemar, the foreign secretary, doesn't want to do it because that diplomat is otherwise politically aligned with her, which isn't a surprise given that she, despite being one of the more competent and less corrupt politicians in Istkalen, is a lunatic. I'm trying to convince her to do it, of course, but other than that I have no idea what to do."
"About Commissioner Biden - I heard about it, of course. Casting a vote for anyone Reitzmic or Reitzmic-affiliated would be political suicide in Istkalen, but several legislators further argued that that particular fiasco demonstrated some sort of inherent untrustworthiness among Reitzmics. It's nonsense, of course, all it shows is that Biden himself is untrustworthy. But we thought that he had merely paid some random person to ask the question, or hired an actor, no one even suggested that he had hired a campaign aide. That would be particularly bad, if it were true."
"On to business. We are open to free trade, except for agricultural products and other foodstuffs. We are also open to allowing Inquistans to contract industrial and service collectives, as well as individual workers, although be aware that these will be constrained by limitations on work hours, which will be brought down to 38 hours a week beginning on 1 May, from the 84-hour workweek of the occupation. Is there anything your country wants from ours, apart from these?"
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The Archbishop listened to the Head of State very intently, and was completely captivated by the gossip he had to share. Mikaela found the politics of Istkalen, as the Head of State described, to be quite interesting and dramatic, which she rather enjoyed. The Archbishop leaned toward the Head of State and concentrated on what he had to say, clinging onto every word. However, once the Head of State started talking about excrement that was put into tea, the Archbishop shivered in dismay, and began to wonder if this story was really true.
The talk of excrement, while sitting in mud baths, brought some pretty repelling thoughts to mind. Mikaela worked hard to expel anything bad that began to enter her imagination, and she attempted to bring her mind back to the conversation that was at hand. Luckily, the Archbishop was pretty good at emptying her head.
The Archbishop was very glad that Rikkalek confided in her, and was willing to share all the tea – oh no, bad thoughts, bad thoughts – of everything going on in Istkalen. Istkalen sounded most interesting to the Archbishop, who then decided she would have to visit the country one day, although she would need to fast for the duration of her entire visit, as she had no appetite to eat or drink anything that could potentially be spiked with something unsavory.
Once Rikkalek shifted the discussion to free trade, Mikaela decided to finish her mojito in a single swing.
“That would be lovely! Inquistans would be happy to contract workers from your country, as well as your industrial and service collectives. We are more than happy to respect your working hours, as well as any other guidelines that need to be followed. A 84-hour workweek sounds tough, and I am glad you are bringing that down. That’s almost as long as one of Queen Anastasia’s marriages!
As far as free trade goes, Inquista is prepared to reduce or eliminate tariffs and import duties on all imports from Istkalen, across all sectors. Obvi, you want to protect Istkalen’s agricultural sector and your foodstuffs producers, which is more than fine with us. Istkalen can fully protect those, although I don’t think you would need to worry about Inquistan agriculture anyway, T-B-H.
As long as Istkalen can be counted on to be a reliable trading partner, and a good friend, then Inquista is willing trade on whatever terms suits you best. Inquista already has free trade agreements with most resource-rich places, but it doesn’t hurt to have more variety, right? In terms of what Inquista ‘wants’ – it’s whatever you’re willing to offer and open up! Whatever minerals and metals that Istkalen can trade, we’re here for.
Have I told you that cobalt blue is one of my favourite colours? You know, everyone thinks cerulean and admiral blue are in fashion this season, but that’s actually sooo last year. Cobalt is like totally the new thing. Hopefully Inquistans can get some better access to cobalt, and maybe that will lead to more people wearing more cobalt blue instead of like, navy?
Anyway, like I said, we’re happy to eliminate tariffs on every sector wherever possible – minus the ones you don’t wish - on whatever terms you’d like. After dropping tariffs, I can also have the Church put in a good word for ya and your workers, and encourage Inquistan businesses to import their supplies or resources from Istkalen, which will hopefully help your industries.
The main thing we actually want, though, is just reliability. If Istkalen decides to hashtag cancel itself and its cobalt from the rest of the world again, could you at least keep supplies running our way? Well, you don’t have to, but at least think about us. Friends help friends! That’s my motto.”
The Archbishop then paused for a second to ponder in thought, before continuing. “I’m not good with geology… or is it geography? I always confuse those two. Actually, I always did soooo bad at both of those, now that I think of it. You know what always confuses me? Magnetism. I just don’t get it. Also, like, the whole concept of wind. Ok, I get the whole high pressure to low pressure thing, but why are there different levels of pressure to begin with? Why isn’t it all just the same pressure?”
The Archbishop stared blankly at the Head of State for several seconds, as if she was actually expecting an answer from him, before then suddenly continuing her stream of consciousness.
“Where was I going with that? Oh! Geology! Right. Ok, so my boy Antoni told me that Istkalen has been worried about its own supply and trade routes being effected by the Spanish Straits. President Aguilar is a great person that I can rely on; he is always very good and kind to me, and he is very generous when taking my requests or listening to the things that I ask of him. If you ever need any help to keep your trade and supply routes free from any Spanish Strait mess, just lemme or Antoni know, and will get in touch with President Aguilar and sort things out for ya. Like I said, friends help friends, right? Here, put your phone number in my phone.”
The Archbishop reached out of the mud bath and grabbed her cellphone from her purse from behind her, and handed it to the Head of State. Once Rikkalek entered his information, Mikaela gently took back her phone and saved his contact information under ‘Rikky’. Mikaela knew that Rikkalek had already met President Reiserová, and that the governments of Istkalen and Inimicus had a newly-established working relationship, and so she decided to create an eclectic group chat consisting of herself, the Head of State, the President for Life, and the Emperor. The Archbishop decided that this particular foursome would make for a strong and friendly team, as it consisted of three fabulous autocrats (of varying degrees) and a fabulous pop princess. The Archbishop dubbed the group and the group chat as ‘the Dolls 💅’, and sanctified it by sending the group chat a picture of an allegedly inspiring quote that she knew President Reiserová would approve of and love.
The Archbishop’s phone then buzzed, and she quickly read a message from Bishop Secretary Antoni Reynels.
“Looks like Antoni wants a word with me. An emergency, apparently. We gotta get to the drawing room. Let’s get out of here.”
The Archbishop got out of her mud bath and helped the Head of State get out of his, before then directing him to the showers nearby. The Archbishop made sure to scrub all of the mud off herself, and she couldn’t help but sing a tune (or out of tune, rather) as she showered. Once Mikaela was fully clean, she grabbed a towel and waddled behind her room divider, where she dressed back into her clothes. The Archbishop waited for the Head of State to appear clothed from behind his own room divider, before then handing him a cologne she had chosen for him.
Mikaela gestured for Rikkalek to use the cologne and to keep it, and then signalled for him to follow her. The Archbishop and Head of State made their way through the palace and toward the drawing room. As the pair approached the room, the faint sound of a noisy quarrel could be heard through the room doors. The Archbishop opened the doors suddenly without knocking, and walked in alongside the Head of State.
As the doors swung open, it appeared as if Silas Kligenberg and Edward Firoux were about to exchange fists. The two seemed absolutely furious, and Antoni Reynels stood between them, holding them back and keeping the peace. Upon seeing the Archbishop and Head of State, the Chief Secretary immediately dropped his expression and smiled. “Mikaela, good to see you,” Firoux greeted calmly, as if he wasn’t in the midst of a row.
“Hi, Eddie,” Mikaela greeted back warmly.
“You came just in time,” Antoni stated with some relief.
“Hi, Antoni.”
“Hi, Mikaela,” Silas chimed in, with a steely tone.
“Hi, Si.”
The Archbishop then looked at the Head of State, and then back at her colleagues.
“Eddie, this is Rikky, the Head of State of Istkalen.”
“Hello! A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”
“Antoni, meet Rikky.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Si, this is Rikky.”
“Hello.”
After making their acquaintance, the Chief Secretary decided to excuse himself. “Well, looks like my visit here was a success in the end. I look forward to being on the same page,” Firoux announced out loud in an earnest and triumphant voice, although all the Inquistans in the room knew that Firoux was being viciously sarcastic.
Before parting from the room, Firoux walked up to the Head of State, shook his hand, before then turning to the Archbishop, and bidding her a farewell by kissing both of her cheeks. The Chief Secretary then exited the drawing room.
“Mikaela, a word?” Antoni asked the Archbishop, while pointing towards the door with his palm.
“Rikky, could you please excuse Antoni and me for a moment? Si will take good care of you. I think he has something he wants to discuss anyway.” Mikaela followed Antoni out of the room and closed the door behind them.
Silas instantly smirked as the room fell silent, and seemed to be barely containing an internal bout of laughter. Silas walked to a nearby cabinet, where some whiskey and several whiskey glasses stood on top. Without asking, Silas poured himself some whiskey, as well as a glass of whiskey for Rikkalek. Silas handed Rikkalek the glass, before then seating himself on a nearby sofa, and nodding for Rikkalek to do the same.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rikkalek. Wait, is that right? Mr.? Do you use gendered titles like in Istkalen? I know how ‘woke’ you all are. I have no doubt that men are not allowed to see themselves as real men in your country. What should I call you?
Anyway, no matter. Before I get to my point, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. How well do you know Josephine Areai? Have you spoken to her? Has she mentioned me? I’m sure she has. She’s obsessed, I am sure. Well, if you ever run into her, please give her my regards, and let her know that I’m ready to convert her if she wants to be fixed.
Now, to business. To be frank, Istkalen was in a pretty pathetic state. I mean, your country was occupied by Vards and Reitzmen, which is completely humiliating. Virtually all Reitzmen are self-hating and fatherless, who have sold their own blood, culture and values for no explainable reason. Then you have the Vards, who come from a country which is basically the cheap and discount version of Fremet – minus all the good things – and Fremet being Little Icholasen, the weak and feeble version of Icholasen itself. Vayinaod is a discount of an already lesser model. Very sad.
However, you managed to get those losers out. Good for you. That’s why I like you. You’ve managed to turn Istkalen around. It’s 35% less pathetic now already. If you manage to keep this up, and continue to uphold stability, Istkalen will be right on it way. As for me, I am on your side. You see, nobody wants to see Greater Istkalen rise like I do.
When I heard that Inimicus would be establishing a base in Istkalen, I was shocked. I was not expecting it. However, I know when someone is playing 4D chess, and that was a very 4D chess move. Nice. This is when I knew you were the real deal, and that you were a real man.
You see, Inquistan military weapon and vehicle producers make some pretty tough shit. If you ever dream of turning Istkalen into a defensible country, or want to restore Istkalen to its former glory, you will need a well-equipped army.
Inquista is more than willing to grant Istkalen a license to purchase weapons, vehicles and aircraft from Inquistan military producers. Inquista normally only grants these sort of licenses to our military partners, but we are willing to extend such licenses to Istkalen.
Here’s the enticing part. Istkalen can procure whatever it wishes from Inquistan military producers at a 90% discount price. Virtually free. The Inquistan Orthodox Church will chip in and write-off 90% of all procurement expenses. Why? Well, because I either own big stakes in most of our producers, or because they belong to buddies of mine. I have no trouble having the Church pay out these producers, giving them more contracts, which will line my pocket, or line the pockets of my partners. In fact, the more procurement contracts you request, the more the Church will have to pay, and the more money that will be made. If you need a completely new army or air force, then so be it. A complete win-win for the both us. A shame for the Church budget, and for taxpayers, but not for us. Life isn’t fair, and that’s why God created strong and intelligent beings like us, and then… the rest.”
After explaining his corruption-tinged offer in complete detail, as if he was a super villain exposing his own plans in a cartoon, Silas raised his eyebrows in anticipation of the Head of State’s thoughts.
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"Don't worry, Mikaela, we won't be withholding our resources - except for in certain extraordinary circumstances, but you shouldn't worry about that, if that comes to pass you'll all have much worse to worry about, as would went," said Rikkalek, looking at the wall in the distance. He could really only think of her promise to encourage Inquistan businesses to import supplies from Istkalen. A touchy subject, a very touchy subject. Free trade itself was controversial; he himself had been an extremely vehement opposer of it until Kalju and Yasemin had proposed their compromise - free trade, but export and import controlled completely by the Commerce Association.
The benefits without the drawbacks, but all the same only very narrowly supported. To use the new control to manipulate things in favor of Inquista would be the death knell for his government - and who was there to replace him?
"There's been a process of political....cleaning," he finally decided to say, "which has...will, sorry, will - make it difficult..no, impossible - to allow me to return the favor. You can of course still encourage your companies to buy from us, it's just that we can't do the same, just wanted to make sure you knew that." He paused, turning to look again at Mikaela. "And they'd lynch me," he continued, laughing, slightly, "if I changed anything about that."
"WIth regards to our...friends in Spain," he continued, "it's really not necessary. We aren't concerned. And then, of course, there's the anti-imperialist line we have to maintain. People are still upset over the Reitzmics stealing their mines. Thousands, tens of thousands, were deprived of their income as a result of the seizures - when our country was already struggling. Even the richest had difficulty getting food at the height of the occupation; for them it was terrible. And now people see Spain as doing the same to the nations around it. We can't be seen as taking advantage of the current situation."
He was a little happy to be able to get out of the bath. There was something discomforting about sitting in the open, in mud, another person not so far away. It was at once exposing and embarrassing. It was also a chance to talk on terms he was more familiar with.
After quietly showering and changing back, he found himself presented with cologne. He smiled at Mikaela, quickly said "thank you," before again going behind the divider. He turned it around in his hand, carefully inspecting it. He sniffed it a little, just to make sure there was nothing...odd in it, before at last, tentatively and nervously, applying it.
He was subjected to the ridiculous glamour of Mikaela's palace again as they walked to another room. It was shockingly empty, he thought, and yet so...gilded. For a while he had lived in the old Imperial Palace - and even that, the house of the old emperors - and he wasn't, he reassured himself, trying to excuse what they had done, trying to excuse the inherent sinfulness they had had, the sinfulness, the curse, that he had inherited from them, he wasn't, not at all, he shouldn't, he couldn't, feel guilty just for thinking about it, so shortly, too - had been plainer, stripped down of all the gold and silver and precious things, divided into so many rooms and offices for the whole of the government. The republican principle applied in Istkalen, but here it did not.
He felt a bit of contempt for it all. These people, living in their useless mansions, enjoying wealth and power, corrupting themselves so far away from everything. He had been born with disgusting privilege in his veins, he had been born stained with the sin of his ancestors, of lust for power, he was cursed to be like them - and even he could see the terrible excess here.
But that was out of a sense of moral superiority, wasn't it? There was something in him that wanted to always be superior, to always be right. His ego, he thought. Thinking about things made it worse, really...better not to pay attention. It was just a shock, really, all of it.
As they approached the room, he could hear an argument. Heated, obviously, although he couldn't really understand it. It was too muffled, and he was always a few seconds behind in understanding English anyways.
He quietly greeted the two others in the room, before finally sitting down and speaking to Silas. He did not drink the whiskey; he was careful not to drink things abroad. One could never be too careful.
"Well, I'm sorry to say it, but I'm afraid you've confused us for some other country, Mr. Kligenberg. To be truthful, I don't think we have any titles in Istkalen - none are above, none are below - but that's completely political. People address each other in the most ridiculous ways sometimes. The more religiously inclined call everyone 'brother' or 'sister.' The socialists call everyone 'comrade,' the liberally inclined 'citizen...' you get the idea. But in English of course we use the normal titles."
The question of Josephine Areai was much more difficult to answer. The old social democrats had invited her to the country; it was hell to deal with her, none of them had the faintest clue how to get rid of her. In the end they had forced her out of sight, out of mind, hoping that the world would forget of her existence.
"Areai," he said finally. "Areai, Areai, Areai....oh yes, that woman who ran for Internal Affairs Commissioner, that refugee. She, well, she...went - voluntarily! - to a...settlement, a...retreat, in the mountains. Cut off from the rest of the world, it's something like a, um, convent. It is a very..fulfilling life, I have heard, at this retreat. It's not an unusual thing, many people go to these retreats for their retirement. Anyways, the retirees really like it there, they don't have any desire to come back. Occasionally, every few months or so, they write letters describing their lives there. They seem very content people, there is never anything negative in them. You can read some of them online, if you want to. I don't know whether Ms. Areai has written any."
"I'm flattered, but don't credit me for getting the Vards and the Reitzmics. It was the people. They put on their show for the occupiers, and it convinced them that we were ungovernable and crazy. As soon as they began to leave it came to an end. Of course, it wasn't planned, it was very possible that they truly believed it, but it did the job regardless. Then, of course, Istkalen was left just to deal with the growing pains of state-building."
A half-lie. Half of it had grown out of Ikomar being a collaborationist. He had become convinced that Ikomar needed to be gotten rid of; and the ministers agreed. They had defamed him, and then he had gone to Liiv. They were old friends, who still agreed on most things, and so it had been simple. Just provoke Istkalen to make the occupiers think the country was off the rails and Ikomar look incompetent. The old bureaucracy and the occupiers purged in one step. Eventually the Northern Radio would have to be shut down, but Liiv would go free. The "growing pains" he had invented, from the revisions to the constitution to the "coup" staged by poor Kaisa.
He ignored the comment about 'Greater Istkalen.' That matter was simply difficult. Half of the population wanted revenge for the mine-looting (had they forgotten that they were the aggressors). Of course it would be addressed, but to openly endorse peace would be dangerous. Best not to comment on it, even in these private circumstances.
The military agreement offered was suspicious, in the same way the Vards with their railway were suspicious. The government had already been forced to set aside a fund to pay off everything and more, if it was really just fraud and trickery as they suspected; they would not have the political capital to do so again.
"Well, this is all very well and good," he finally decided to say, "but what's the catch? Nothing that sounds this...good can come without a catch."
-
As the Head of State described the 'retreats' in Istkalen in vague and suspect detail, Silas became quite interested in them. The manner in which Rikkalek spoke was utterly unconvincing and was instead rather ominous, which peeked Silas' attention.
"These retreats sound very... relaxing. I definitely know a few people who could use some quiet time to rest, contemplate, and err, retire. Say, are they open to foreign 'pilgrims'?
Would it be possible for Inquista to establish a program to sponsor curtain individuals, and in this case I mean pilgrims, of course, to travel to, participate and become enlightened in these retreats? Naturally, the Church will cover any necessary fees and costs for such a spiritual exchange.
It's a shame that I will never hear from Areai again, that is, unless she writes a letter to me. Knowing how obsessed she is, she very well might. No matter. Normally I like it when they play hard to get, but this is a whole new level. If she wants me so bad, she shouldn't push her luck."
Silas leaned back in the sofa and sighed, only for a moment showing a glimpse of remorse, before quickly moving on. "Now I think I have my eyes set on that woman from A Glenbrno Winter. Have you seen that film? It's boring as hell and the plot makes as much sense as anything out of Strathae, but the lead actress is a total 10."
When the Head of State quizzed the Bishop Secretary on the intentions behind the arms deal, Silas was quite suddenly taken aback, particularly at the suggestion that there could be an ulterior motive - or unbelievably, a better motive - besides making fortuitous profits for himself, his partners, and his connections.
After a moment of being stunned, the Bishop Secretary suddenly laughed, and then slapped the Head of State's knee in approval. "Haha! I like you, Rikkalek, buddy. Money doesn't mean a damn thing to you, does it? Very quaint. We're opposites, but that's why I think we would make a good team.
As I said, the more contracts that you procure, the more money that my people and I will make. Even if that cost is on the Inquistan taxpayer's dime, it's still the same for me; I don't care what you do with the weapons or vehicles. Use them or not. Although, if you had to buy new replacements, that would be just as great. If this deal seems too good to be true, it's simply because I am just that good, and that's the truth. The catch is that we both win.
So, do we have a deal?"
Silas allowed Rikkalek to answer before proceeding with another proposal.
"Wealth has immense utility. In fact, there is nothing that could possibly have more utility. Do not underestimate the power of money. Money is the most practical thing you can own, it can buy literally anything. You seem rather above it all, but that's perhaps because you haven't quite found out what doors money can open for you? As Head of State, you are deprived of finding out.
What I'm about to say is purely hypothetical. Should anyone ask, this conversation is purely supposition and speculative. Should I open a securities portfolio at an Inquistan bank for you, like the Kligenberg & Family Bank, you could have a securities account that would be completely anonymous and secret. Then, should you obtain select stock options involved in the Inquistan military industrial complex, you could perhaps make a fortune in the near future, particularly if an arms deal is made. You wouldn't have to put much money in - and in fact, I could purchase them for you, since I am not sure you are allowed to officially hold possessions - but in the long run, you'd make a tonne of money. Of course, this is just speculative, so there's nothing to agree to, just something to think about.
I think, to mark a new and fruitful chapter in relations between our countries, Inquista intends to appoint a new ambassador to the Republic. I will make sure that it will be a good friend of mine, Tarn Levendus. He's a skilled and knowledgeable diplomat, but more than anything, he is very trustworthy and dependable. He'll make a good liaison between us, and someone you can always count on. Should the hypothetical of mine interest you in any way, you may get in touch with him. Even if it does not, he will still be at your service. Should you ever need anything from me, any sort of favour, and when I say anything, I mean anything, be sure to ask him. He knows how to handle things, and he knows how to handle things with both proper caution and discretion."
A few moments later, the door to the drawing room swung open, and Mikaela and Antoni re-entered the room. The Archbishop and Bishop Secretary made their way to the couch and sandwiched themselves on opposite sides of Silas, and faced the Head of State.
"Si has been good company, I hope?" Mikaela asked Rikkalek sincerely with a smile.
"We've been very productive. We've spoken about the possible arms deal, as well as about a possible cultural exchange to some retreats in Istkalen, and a new ambassador to the country," Silas explained confidently.
"I was thinking we need a new ambassador. Who did you have in mind?" Mikaela wondered.
"Tarn Levendus."
"Oh, Tarn! I haven't seen him in ages. I last saw him at the trade commissioners meeting, where he and all the trade commissioners were comparing their business cards, and Tharn definitely had the best one. The colouring and font was perfect. It's bone. And the lettering is something called Silian Grail. I feel like as Archbishop, I should also have a business card..."
"He's a solid choice," Antoni chimed in. As a career diplomat, with 7 and nearly 8 years of experience as the ambassador to Icholasen, before then becoming European Commissioner of Foreign Affairs, Antoni had his fair share of dealings with Tarn Levendus.
Mikaela's eyes widened as she had a realisation. "Wouldn’t Tarn totally be Rikky’s type? They’d look so cute together!"
"Sure, if Rikkalek swings that way. Something tells me that he'll probably have Tarn's number soon enough, and I am sure they will have plenty to talk about on their first 'date', if that happened," Silas added cheekily, while giving Rikkalek a knowing look.
"What about these retreats you mentioned? I love a good retreat, maybe I should I go? I've never been to Istkalen," Mikaela wondered.
"No, I don't think it's your type of retreat. For one, it’s for retirees. Secondly, it’s one of those silent retreats. Third, you wouldn't have a phone, either," Silas warned.
"Oh gosh, I did try one of those silent retreats once. The worst part was the goat yoga. One of the goats tried chewing my hair," Mikaela moaned. "In fairness, the retreat didn't have very good curling irons, so my hair was a bit like hay that day. Anyway, and... the arms deal? Is that in agreement?"
After hearing from Rikkalek, the Archbishop went on to explain the trade agreements that she drew up with the Head of State earlier to both Silas and Antoni.
As Inquista's Bishop Secretary of Trade, Antoni found it worthwhile to reiterate the spirit of the agreement to the Head of State. "I am sure that the Archbishop explained that Inquista's top priority in trade is stability over anything. We don't want preferential treatment as much as we simply want stability. There is a reason why the Most Blessed State has only implemented sanctions once in our 13 years in the European Union, and that's because Inquistans don't like disruptions in our trade. We hope to not only be afforded such stability, but we also hope to offer it as well.
Inquista has shown itself to be very good to our partners and allies. We have supported our allies, such as Spain, Inimicus, Czech Slavia or even Red Croatia in their endeavours, and even when their endeavours were and remain unpopular and controversial. We have fallen on the sword for the United Dominions of Icholasen more than our fair share of times. I believe our commitment to our partners speaks for itself, and so I hope you understand that Inquista takes our commitments very seriously, and we hope that the future Inquistan-Istkalenic working relationship honours its commitments in the same way.
I believe Inquista was among the first few states to recognise the Republic of Istkalen? We have always been at the side of your Republic, and we hope to stay that course. You will always have our word and support, and we hope that is reciprocated."
Mikaela nodded very approvingly at Antoni's words. "Totally! I already told him, friends help friends!"
The Archbishop then spoke up again. "There's one last thing from our side. Would you be open to visa-free travel between our two countries? Traveling can just be sooooo annoying when you need a visa, right? How does that sound?
That's pretty much everything we were looking to discuss, at least from our side. Is there anything else you'd like to discuss? Any concerns?" Mikaela asked, placing her hands on her lap and leaning forward toward Rikkalek.
-
"You'll have to contact someone else about the retreats, they're managed by someone else, Ayros Tiraki. I can give you her contact information, if you're seriously interested in this," said Rikkalek.
"I've watched a film named A Glenbrno Winter, but I doubt it was the same one that you did. It was a production of a Ms. Ilisapit Ikrat, which she tried to pass off Czech, and was about ritual sacrifice, which she claimed was a recurring theme in Czech films. I assume she wanted to make it extremely disgusting and shocking, but she tried to the point where it was really just extremely boring. I think I even fell asleep when she first screened it for us. So I'll just take your word on the lead, I guess."
He was still genuinely confused about the deal which Silas had offered. "I still don't understand. Your proposal is putting the stability of the Inquistan state at risk. Not a major risk, certainly not one that could cause significant issues by itself, but still a risk. That's a little dangerous, for everyone, isn't it? The state maintains order, it maintains stability; without the state, people become disordered, deranged. There is no business, no institution, which can function in an environment like that. You talk about profit, but we both know that weakening the state will act as against that, cancel it out, maybe even decrease it. Your proposal is to weaken your society and your personal interests to strengthen ours; you gain nothing, and we gain everything. For a country as rich and as powerful as Inquista to be making a proposal like this is nonsensical; there must be another motive. Given this, I don't think it's wise for me to agree to this in particular."
"And then, of course, there are the stocks you've offered me. It's illegal, you're right, and something that would get me removed from office and then thrown into some ditch, but I don't even understand why it would be a good thing. I've never seen any difference between speculation and gambling, both involve money being connected to nonsensical, nonexistent things which are bet on, and both lead to dissatisfaction, unhappiness, and ruin. On top of that, what can you do with the money itself? Buy things? Why would you want to buy things? What satisfaction does buying things give someone? None, in my opinion. It's power, really, that can satisfy someone; and one can't buy power with money. Or well, it's possible, but then you have the risk of everything coming down very quickly - you'd have no legitimacy in anyone's eyes."
"Anyways, appointing a new ambassador would probably be a good thing, absolutely. Although of course there are some in the government who might complain."
He listened to the others after they entered.
:"Our commitment to any agreement will be strong," said Rikkalek in response to Antoni. "Istkalen is, of course, a recovering country, and there will be, politically, some instability as a result of that, but any government, every government, will honor, fully, the nature of the new relationship between our two states. We keep our word."
"And, of course," responding to Mikaela, "we would be fine with visa-free travel. We don't have any additional concerns."
-
With nothing to further add or discuss, it seemed that the summit was reaching its natural conclusion.
“Alrighty, are we ready to sign on everything we’ve agreed to today?” the Archbishop asked, prompting both the Bishop Secretaries to stand up from the sofa and straighten themselves out.
Silas, who was rather bored and disappointed with the Head of State’s refusal of his offers, excused himself by simply giving an acknowledging nod to his compatriots and his guest, before then leaving the room without even saying goodbye.
“I’ll return with the agreement, which will be ready to sign,” Antoni announced, following Silas out of the room.
The Archbishop made casual chit-chat with the Head of State as they waited for Antoni to return with the agreement. Mikaela had been presented with troubling and peculiar news while Silas maintained an audience with Rikkalek. Mikaela felt compelled to share the information that had been thrusted upon her, but she ultimately decided against it, instead opting for lighter and breezier conversation.
Mikaela was very glad that she was able to spend quality time relaxing with Rikkalek, sharing in gossip, and now even including him in a group chat. Despite this, Rikkalek still seemed more like a friendly acquaintance rather than a true friend. Nonetheless, this small step in their relationship was a victory as far as the Archbishop was concerned.
After some time, Antoni returned with the agreement, which was typed on an official document that included the coat of arms and seals of the Inquistan and Istkalenic states. The Bishop Secretary presented the treaty in a leather binder alongside two platinum-plated fountain pens. The fountain pens had the names and titles of the Archbishop and Head of State engraved into them.
The Archbishop got up from her seat and handed the Bishop Secretary her phone, while then taking the agreement and politely seating herself beside the Head of State. Mikaela gently instructed Antoni to livestream her signing the agreement on Instagram Live, so that the whole world could bear witness to the occasion.
The agreement read:
The Saint Dominico Accord of 2022
Inquista and Istkalen shall hereby agree to:
I. Eliminate all existing custom duties and tariffs, except for those applied to agricultural products and other foodstuffs, between their respective states.
II. Permit Inquistans to contract industrial and service collectives, as well as individual workers, from Istkalen.
III. Institute visa-free travels between their respective states.
The Archbishop signed the treaty with great enthusiasm before then passing it on to the Head of State, who then signed it next. Once the agreement was made official, the Archbishop posed for several photos with the Head of State, which the Bishop Secretary captured with artistic passion, until it was time to say goodbye.
Antoni handed Mikaela her phone back, shook hands with Rikkalek one more time, and then jokingly declared, “Well, looks like my visit here was a success in the end. I look forward to being on the same page,” mimicking what Firoux had said earlier. Antoni smiled and then walked out, while Mikaela laughed.
The Archbishop escorted the Head of State through the palace back to the main entrance. There, a security team stood ready to walk Rikkalek back to his limousine at the other end of Saint Dominico’s Square.
“Normally, this would just be the beginning of our fun time together, but I know that you’re a very busy man and there are a lot of people that want your country’s attention!” Mikaela began. “I would show you around Saint Dominico, but maybe at another time when you’re more free. Anyway, thank you so much for coming! You’ve been great company. Take care Rikky! Don’t be a stranger, ok?”
The Archbishop gave the Head of State a kiss on both of his cheeks, surprising the poor Istkalener with the Inquistan custom of greeting and bidding farewell. Mikaela then waved Rikkalek goodbye as the security detail led him outside and toward his vehicle.
The Archbishop hastily made her way to the library room where Chief Secretary Firoux and Bishop Secretary JennaMarelle Johnson eagerly stood waiting for the Archbishop’s arrival. Firoux looked rather pleased with himself, knowing that that Silas’ arms agreement, which he had attempted to filibuster earlier in the drawing room, did not come to fruition. Somehow Firoux always maintained a habit of being victorious in the end. The Chief Secretary had tremendous newfound respect for the Istkalenic Head of State, who he thought had a rather commendable moral compass.
“Where is the Head of State?” Firoux asked, turning his smile to a frown.
“He’s a busy guy,” Mikaela deflected with a shake of her head.
“Too busy to save the world? Ah well, its best we keep this matter under complete secrecy anyway.”
“To the Glitter Room!” Mikaela championed with a sense of purpose, grabbing JennaMarelle by her hand.
The Archbishop walked towards a bookshelf that stood squarely in the middle between several other shelves on the left-hand side of the room. Mikaela studied the bookshelf intently, before then pulling a shiny silver book by its spine. The bookshelf suddenly came forwards and then moved sideways, revealing a secret door. Mikaela, Firoux and JennaMarelle quickly rushed inside.
<Tense undercover music starts playing>
The secret door led to an inner sanctum. A small electronic podium stood in the centre, where an electronic pad awaited a handprint. Mikaela walked over to the pad and placed her hand over it. The pad scanned the Archbishop’s hand, and after a few seconds, a door to a large and swirly slide opened. The slide spiralled into every direction below, and appeared to continue on until nothing but darkness could be seen.
“Remember you guys, keep your arms close to your chest. It’s time to go down,” Mikaela reminded her partners, before then quickly propelling herself down the slide.
Once reaching the bottom of the slide, Mikaela waited for Firoux and JennaMarelle to land behind her. A red button stood before them.
“Are we ready?” Mikaela asked.
“Yes,” Firoux and JennaMarelle answered in unison, with steel and grit in their voices.
The Archbishop pressed the button, and the trio were instantly swallowed by trap doors under their feet that plunged them into an unknown and seemingly infinite abyss below. Firoux shouted for his life and grabbed JennaMarelle by her hand midair. JennaMarelle yelled in terror. “Keep yo damn hands close to yo chest!”
After falling quite a few storeys, the three landed on a massive trampoline that broke their fall. With their acrobatic skills leveled up, the trio managed to get back on their feet once the trampoline came to a standstill. The Archbishop scrambled around the small trampoline room until she managed to find a button attached to one of the walls. The Archbishop pressed the button and a small crawl space opened up below her knees.
Mikaela got down on her stomach and then began to crawl through the crawl space. “You guys, through here!"
The crawl space ended up being a very long but narrow tunnel. After worming their way through, the trio collected themselves at what seemed to be some sort of landing. A really strange and bizarre stench wafted through the air. The three Inquistans gazed from atop their landing to the pit below, where a float of six or seven crocodiles were eagerly waiting. They then gazed to the other end of the room, where another landing stood some 20 to 25 metres away.
“What are those?” Firoux asked, staring blankly at the crocodiles beneath them.
“They are my crocs,” Mikaela answered, sounding both scared but also proud.
“You’re keeping them in here? Mikaela, this is cruel! These poor crocodiles deserve to be free from captivity, not kept as a defence system!” Firoux soap-boxed.
“Hey, it was Craticus who put them here! Besides, crocodile skin is also soooo in season right now! If crocodile shoes are the thing, then why not crocodile defence systems? It’s so chic, so current, so timeless…” Mikaela continued on.
“Ok, but how do we get to the other side?” JennaMarelle interrupted.
“We have to tightrope across,” Mikaela smiled.
“Oh, duh, of course,” Firoux laughed with tremendous nervousness.
The Archbishop began to slowly tightrope across the crocodile pit. Mikaela slowly inched her way forward, strutting carefully across the very thin tightrope that connected the two landings. After a nerve-wracking minute, the Archbishop successfully made her way across, with JennaMarelle and Firoux following shortly behind. At the other end of the landing was a large red button, which the Archbishop then pressed. The nearby wall split into two, and revealed the entrance to the Glitter Room. The group walked triumphantly inside.
<Craticus' Secret Lair music starts playing>
“Yikes, what’s with this music?” Firoux questioned.
“Oh sorry, I haven’t had time to change it yet, it’s what Craticus left on.”
The Glitter Room was once Archbishop Craticus’ secret lair, which had now been refitted and redecorated as Archbishop Kligenberg’s own secret base of operations. The once evil and ominous-looking hideout was now an immensely sparkly room, with a futuristic and shiny interior where everything sparkled with pastel-coloured glitter. The outskirts of the room was lined with sophisticated and cutting-edge equipment and gadgets, and television screens were plastered across all the walls of the room, which livestreamed recordings of various undisclosed locations across Europe, from Prague, to Madrid, and to Dairghazburo, and so on.
A large meeting table was centred in the middle of the room, crowded with uncomfortable metal chairs. Someone was already seated at the table, patiently waiting for the arriving party. The trio hurriedly decided to seat themselves at the table with their patient guest. Upon closer inspection of the waiting visitor, Mikaela was taken by surprise. “Tulsi Gabbard? I thought you had been killed!”
“H-H-H-H-Hello. I-I-I-I am Mecha Tulsi,” Mecha Tulsi introduced herself. Mecha Tulsi spun around in her chair and revealed herself to be holding a baby crocodile, which she gently caressed.
A control panel on the table then began to beep with the HEATHERS signal.
The Archbishop pressed a button on the table, and then holographic projections of Air Marshal Harriet Copala and General Juan-Bernardo Fernandez-Velasquez appeared in seats on the opposite of the table.
“What’s the stitch?” Mikaela wondered.
“Hello everyone. I hope you’ve gotten acquainted with Mecha Tulsi,” Copala began. “Mecha Tulsi is an advanced AI-mech that has been programmed to reflect and act as the late General Tulsi Gabbard of Icholasen. Apparently, she’s even been imprinted with General Gabbard’s memories.”
“T-T-T-T-That is right,” Mecha Tulsi followed up.
“The last Android system update appears to have thrown her through a loop,” Copala stated with some sorrow. “This is why iOS is so much better. Apple in general, really…”
“Well, most androids have much better specs like cameras, processors and batteries for their price point,” Firoux rebuked.
“I soooo used to swear by Apple, but then I dropped my phone once and it broke. I totally learned my lesson!” Mikaela interjected.
“N-N-N-N-Not to worry. I-I-I-I am just fine,” Mecha Tulsi clarified.
“Mecha Tulsi has been in deep undercover on behalf of Free Nicoleizian Intelligence, and has brought us vital intel. This is a matter of not just national security, but international security. I dare say that the entire world is at risk,” Copala warned with a rather grim voice.
“The criminal organisation known as the Secret Iron Mastermind Pirate Society, commonly dubbed as the SIMPS, are acting out in one last desperate attempt to save themselves. After the Archbishop and Spanish President infiltrated and busted the main SIMPS warehouse, and ransacked all of their stolen goods, the SIMPS have been very severely weakened. In the last weeks, Inquistan police and intelligence services have also been able to arrest and apprehend most SIMPS, leaving the organisation fighting for its life while on the brink of total collapse.
The SIMPS have now become more desperate than ever. Mecha Tulsi has collected intelligence that leads us to believe that the SIMPS have begun working for a much, much more dangerous enemy. The SIMPS are working with a secretive organisation, which we do not yet know the name of, but appears to be an Asian supremacist network that intends to asianize all of Europe. The organisation hopes to unleash Asianization across all our borders, and hopes to begin this process by kidnapping European leaders, such as the Archbishop, the Czech and Spanish Presidents, Emperor Artabanos, among others, and then asianizing them. The Archbishop is believed to be the first target, and the SIMPS are being asked to kidnap her.”
Mikaela gasped. “O-M-G! I don’t want any surgery!”
“This evil organisation doesn’t intend to asianize Europe through surgery. In fact, they have developed a far more dangerous and advanced method…” Copala started to explain before turning to El General.
“Si. Ay dios mio, this organización has created a type of sustancia that is injected into the human body, which will then slowly asiáticotiza them.”
Mikaela, Firoux and JennaMarelle were in utter shock.
“Indeed, this technology is very troubling. Mecha Tulsi bore witness to the first two victims of this dangerous substance, who were two SIMPS that were tested on as guinea pigs,” Copala added.
“Y-Y-Yes. The victims were injected with this unknown substance, which did not do m-m-m-much at first, only turning them colour blind. A-A-A-A-After approximately 48 hours, the victims slowly began to asianize, and their colour blindness did not wear o-o-o-off.”
“Colour blind? So we won’t be able to see any colour anymore, either?” Mikaela questioned in disbelief.
Copala nodded in disbelief. “Exactly. This organization aspires to create a completely colour blind and fully Asianized world. They must be stoppd.”
“So, what’s the plan, then?” JennaMarelle asked, chiming in.
“The Archbishop will do what she does best, and will infiltrates the SIMPS one last time, in the process destroying them, and will find out more about this secret organisation.”
“And how will she do that?” JennaMarelle further questioned.
Copala smiled. “Easy. She will allow them to capture her.”
