The Supreme Ruler For All Eternity, Emperor Fleur Nagasawa, government for a small nameless country within the influencial sphere of New Klymaxia has gone on a genocidal rampage killing some of its citizens in an effort to "cleanse" its genetic base.

The New Klymaxian government upon request of the citizens of the country is stepping in and orders Emperor Fleur Nagasawa to cease and desist immediately its crimes against humanity and restore order to its country.

The New Klymaxian Forces has been instructed to proceed towards the nation with caution to restore peace to the country and stop all atrocious acts of genocide within the country.

The New Klymaxian Forces has dispatched two aircraft carriers with a classified compliment number of Stealth Klymaxian F-483 jet fighters, rescue choppers and 425-Battle choppers. Two New Klymaxian Forces medic ships, equiped with medic choppers. A classified number of battle and transport ships for the immediate infiltration of the country should they Emperor fail to cease and desist all greusome acts against its citizens.

New Klymaxia International Cruise Lines has donated to the New Klymaxian Forces four passenger ships to rescue fleeing refugies from the country. Transport ships will dock within proximity of the country while air rescue units transport fleeing refugees.

Any military, guerilla or other actions against the transport ships, medical ships or air rescue units removing refugees from the genocidal environment of the country will be considered an act of war against the New Klymaxian government, which the New Klymaxian Forces has orders to use reasonable force to stop and disable the country's army and overthrow the Emporer.

The New Klymaxian government awaits Emperor Fleur Nagasawa's response.

The blazing noon sun beat down on the Mephaestrian port city of Julotha. Pedestrians and vehicles surged among the brilliant white buildings roofed with terracotta tiles. Smaller alleyways, too small for trucks or cars, were lined with open air markets selling jugs and jars, fruits and fishes, and trinkets of all descriptions. The crowd was buzzing with activity. Everything was for sale, and everyone has something that they wished to buy. Everything was in flux.

And in a small empty café in the lower ports, it was power that was being sold. Citizen Anaxogora, the plump owner of Nike Arms Manufacturing and Colonel Arice, from the Arkouda Palankas chewed spiced betel nut packages and sipped on mint tea as they waited for representative of Emperor Nagasawa to arrive. They waited calmly, tardiness was no surprise in Julotha, especially at mid day. The whole city seemed to be perpetually in some sort of amenable traffic jam. Embarrassingly, Anaxogora got a spot of bright red spittle on his white tunic, and irritably scrubbed at it with his finger.

“Cursed stuff, never comes out” he remarked peevishly.

Colonel Arice nodded agreeably, carefully spitting into a pot beside her. Her own khaki uniform was tidy and clean, though perspiration marks darkened her chest and armpits.

“Infernal weather, each year since the Fall seems hotter than the last. Like hell on earth. Still, the smog makes for fantastic sunsets, like the whole sky is burning. Marvelous, the kind of sight that would drive a man to poetry. If he happened to be into that sort of thing. I’m not, which my wife is fond of reminding me. I guess that’s really what poetry should be about, preserving those wondering, lyrical, lucid moments for other people to enjoy. I dare say that future generations will appreciate a few shining words after Gemetria finally manages to black out the sun.”

“I find it strange that a man who produces land mines would be so philosophical” Arice used her straw to jostle the ice cubes of her cold mint tea. Her contempt was hidden behind an iron face. “A guilty conscience trying to overcompensate for its sins perhaps?”

“Oh Colonel, we will get along well, I can tell. There is something quixotic about a soldier that despises war. Man is an animal, I merely sell it claws. In the Bronze Age, people hacked each other to death with metal axes. Before that they used stones and clubs. Now we can plant landmines or push buttons. And the wonderful thing is that we are so separated from killing that we can sleep well at night. How can this be this anything but progress?” Anaxogora laughed, “The gods know we have too many people on this planet as it stands. I read that our planet can only sustain 89 billion people, and our population is nearly 5-fold that. We should be trying to kill more people, not less. I should be seen as a hero, not a monster. Well, in fairness, I should be seen as both a hero and a monster. One of those anti-heros that are so popular among the kids in our morally ambiguous age.”

“Moral rot, that’s what you are. Your kind will reduce our nation to barbarism.”

“What are you, a priest? Colonel, you’re probably one of those depressing idealists who vainly hope that the military is more than just an instrument of blunt force. It’s is exactly that; at least I’m honest about what I do. The powers that be, in all nations, are bracing for a second Fall right now. A more permanent one. Food is running out and populations are exploding. It doesn’t take a mathematician to see that things are going to get ugly really soon. Gemetria is braced for it in her hives, and if we don’t lay out our cards just right, we are going to be wiped off the face of history. You ever read a Gemetrian textbook? We will be a chapter, describing their glorious legions cleansing our land. Our cities will be reduced to ash, our people sold into slavery. No one will remember our culture. Get off your high horse. You may disapprove of my methods but don’t, don’t, make the mistake of believing that I don’t love my country. My sin is that I love my country too much, and will become the devil for her.” There was steel in the eyes of the fat little man.

The envoy arrived, drenched in sweat, grateful of the shade that the café offered. He wordlessly set down an attaché case on the tables.

Anaxogora beamed, flip and happy as always, “Why it is my birthday, I’m so happy that the Emperor remembered! It is very timely too. This over here is the General’s man, I seem to recall that it’s his wife’s anniversary and I completely forgot to get her a gift. I’m sure I can now buy her something… appropriate. Well! Now that we are all friends here, let us get to business, shall we?”

*Nike Arms Manufacturing agrees to transfer small arms, routed through a number of third parties to maintain secrecy, to the Emperor in exchange for money and future resource considerations. There is no official government acknowledgement from Mephaestra, and indeed Mephaestra signs onto an international motion condemning the genocide.*