07-16-2019, 07:50 AM
A Matter Of Business
Huitzitaca, Xiomeran Empire
June 17th, 1991 (atl 17, xatl techalotl, 1991)
The flight from Iustitia City to Huitzitaca was a smooth and quick one. Nathan Bosley couldn't help but marvel as the plane cruised above the clouds.
The direct flight to Huitzitaca was the only flight between Xiomera and Libertas Omnium Maximus, and was not a major priority for Xiomeran Imperial Airways. Nevertheless, the Xiomeran flagship carrier was clearly determined not to let anyone find even the slightest flaw in its operations. From the boarding procedure to the spotlessly clean plane, and all the way down to the attentive and polite flight attendants, the pickiest traveler couldn't have found anything to complain about. Even the flight attendants were turned out in military precision, without a stray hair, wrinkle to their uniforms or scuff on their highly polished shoes.
Xiomerans are supposed to be perfectionists, Bosley thought to himself. If they're all like this, that's a good sign.
Bosley wasn't his real name; who he actually was hardly mattered. What mattered was his mission. Bjeorg was in need of help if their dreams were to be realized. The kind of help that Xiomera, if rumors held true, could supply in abundance.
His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We are about to land in Huitzitaca, sir. Do you require anything else before we land?" one of the flight attendants asked.
"No, thank you, madam," Bosley replied. "You have been very gracious, but I will take care of everything I need once we land."
---
The passage through Xiomeran Imperial Customs and Border Security was as efficient and precise as the flight; a quick scan of Bosley's passport and identification, and an equally quick check to make sure no red flags came up, and it was done. "Welcome to the Xiomeran Empire, Mr. Bosley. If you proceed down the passageway, you can retrieve your baggage and either hire a car or obtain other transport to the city," the border guard said firmly, gesturing him forward and already preparing to check the next arriving passenger.
The passageway led him to the lobby of the international terminal, where Bosley looked over a piece of paper before proceeding to a specific check-in stand. Ixmoc Transportation Services, the sign read in multiple languages, including Xiomeran Huenyan and, thankfully, English. "I have a trip reserved to this location," Bosley told the attendant, passing him another piece of paper. The attendant calmly reviewed the travel pass. "Yes, sir, you are expected. Please proceed to Transit Stop C in front of the terminal, and board Ixmoc Transport Vehicle 34," he said, stamping the travel pass and handing it back over.
When Bosley arrived at the designated stop, a white van with the Ixmoc logo was waiting. Bosley handed another attendant his pass, and boarded the van while his luggage was placed in the back. The van then slowly left the terminal area, proceeding out of the airport into the bustling heart of Huitzitaca. Xiomera's largest port was historically the gateway for foreigners to enter the Xiomeran Empire, as well as the major port serving the Imperial capital of Tlālacuetztla, sixty miles away. Over time, the two cities had essentially merged, forming a sprawling metropolis that served as the heart of both commerce and governance for the entire Empire. The trip took Bosley through a city that was constantly in flux. Construction cranes everywhere reached for the sky, seeming to rival the height of the towering buildings already in place. But it wasn't the skyscrapers that Bosley was there to see.
After a while, the van exited the highway and took a winding drive down a loop road surrounding the massive port. The buildings took on a lower height and an industrial character; this was clearly a service area for the port. Eventually, the van pulled up in front of a complex of low-slung, black-hued stone buildings with a large wall around them. "We are at your destination, sir," the driver told Bosley. "Please exit."
Bosley stepped out of the van, slightly apprehensive even though the trip had been planned in advance. He found himself in front of the massive double doors that seemed to be the only break in the wall. A pair of watchtowers flanked the entry, with a single word in Xiomeran Huenyan lettering between them. Coytōchte, the sign read. Apparently, this is the sort of place that you know what it is if you're supposed to be here, and if you're not supposed to be here, you don't need to know what it is, Bosley mused without humor to himself.
The trip to this strange place, for Bosley, had begun in an airport terminal back home. But the road that had led him here actually begun three days earlier, and sixty miles to the north.
Palace of Flowers, Tlālacuetztla
June 14th, 1991 (atl 14, xatl techalotl, 1991)
Meetings of the Emperor's Cabinet were usually a dull affair: routine matters of governance, occasional subtle sarcasm or jockeying for power or position, the uninteresting sausage-making that went into running a centuries-old Empire. Today, however, promised to be interesting.
"We have received a Notice of Solicitation for Mercenary Operations from the Coytōchte Firm," Zocoatl said. The Secretary for Trade and Economic Relations slid a series of red folders to the center of the large, highly polished sacred-fir conference table.
"What of it? Our mercenary firms get bids all the time," Xochca, the cihuacoatl of Xiomera, snorted. "How is a simple commercial contract worth this council's time?"
Zocoatl raised an eyebrow. "As I was about to explain," he said coolly, deliberately using the tones of Huenyan meant to convey subtle disdain to annoy Xochca, "this concerns a matter of one of our neighbors. I have discussed this with the Secretaries of Security and Defense, and they concur that this requires the Emperor's consideration."
At that, the man seated at the head of the table opened his eyes. Xolōtl, Emperor of Xiomera, raised a hand expectantly. One of his attendants quickly picked up one of the red folders and handed it to him, bowing. Xolōtl opened it and began to read, waving his other hand sharply to silence the chatter of the Cabinet. Once he was done reading, he closed the folder and handed it back to his attendant. "Read. Then speak," the Emperor commanded. Once the rest of the Cabinet had finished reading, Xolōtl pointed a single imperious finger at Zocoatl. "So the people of Bjeorg have solicited our mercenaries. Do you think we should allow it?"
"I do," Zocoatl said. "It's a business opportunity, of course. As is the law, the Coytōchte Firm would be required to donate 5% of their earnings from the mercenary contract to the government. So there is profit in it. But also, there is opportunity in other ways. If Bjeorg succeeds, their government and their people would be inclined to look upon anyone who helped them as a friend. The Empire can always use more friends."
"But we hardly need to make more enemies," Xochca said sharply. "If the Maximusians discover that we have aided Bjeorg in their plans, they will most certainly not see us in a friendly light. Why should we take that kind of chance? I do not see the reward as commensurate to the risk."
"Not commensurate? Did you read the part about how much Bjeorg is willing to pay for mercenaries?" Zocoatl retorted.
"There is no risk," Macuh, the Secretary for International Affairs, said with a slight smile on his face. "After all, it is not the government of Xiomera that would be aiding the separatists. It would be a private mercenary company, that just happens to be based in Xiomera, doing so. And since we are a land of free enterprise, we can't reasonably be expected to tell our companies how to conduct their business," Macuh added with his smile slowly widening into a smirk.
Of course, everyone around the conference table knew fully well that the Xiomeran government did, in fact, tell businesses what to do all the time, if it deemed it to be in the Imperial interest. But no one else needed to know that.
Emperor Xolōtl thought for a moment, then turned to Zocoatl. "Inform Coytōchte that they may accept the Bjeorg bid. But also deliver my personal message: if they do anything that gets this government in trouble with the Maximusians, I will personally cut off Axī's head."
Zocoatl nodded. "I think he already expects that, but I will certainly deliver the message."
Coytōchte Firm headquarters, Huitzitaca
Three days later
As Bosley stood in front of the massive gates, several guards came out to greet him. All of them were dressed in black fatigues with no insignia except for stars on the lapels to denote rank. They also all had XM-01 Tlihuatl assault rifles slung over their shoulders, a fact that drew Bosley's immediate attention.
A man with three stars on each lapel strode forward. He was not carrying a rifle, but did have a XM-38 Huatlxōc sidearm strapped to his waist. "You must be Mr. Bosley. I am Caltē, Chief Training Officer for the Coytōchte Firm. We have been expecting you. Please follow me," Caltē said.
The mercenary led Bosley through the gates into a courtyard that served as a parade ground and training area. As Bosley walked through the courtyard with his escort, he could see mercenaries training at various stages. Hand-to-hand combat, firearms training, and in the distance, various groups even seemed to be working with artillery and armor units.
The escort eventually led Bosley into a large building that seemed to serve as the mercenary firm's headquarters. At the end of a sparsely decorated lobby, a large room beckoned. Caltē and Bosley went in, while the guards escorting them stood outside.
An older man with four stars on each lapel stood up, shaking Bosley's hand. "I am Axī, Commander of the Coytōchte. Please have a seat."
Bosley sat down, while Caltē remained standing near the door. Axī sat down, placing his hands on the table. "We have received your request for our assistance. We are prepared to sign a contract to assist Bjeorg with whatever it may require. I trust you have the initial payment?"
Bosley nodded. "Once we agree on the terms, I will have the funds wired through a discreet third party as you directed. Half now, half upon the arrival of your advisors and supplies in Bjeorg. Additional expenditures to be determined later, should our needs change or more assistance be required."
"That is acceptable," Axī said, sliding a contract over to Bosley to sign. "1,000 Coytōchte advisors are ready to depart immediately to Bjeorg, along with the initial supplies of weapons and other armaments as agreed. They should arrive within two days. From there, we will begin training and supplying your soldiers. If that training goes well, we will hopefully have no need for further deployments. But if they should be required....we have more than enough men and supplies to perform whatever tasks are required."
"You will forgive me for seeming skeptical," Bosley said, "but while your forces in the courtyard there are impressive, they don't seem to be a huge army."
Axī chuckled at that. "This is our headquarters, sir. It is not our only facility. Trust me when I say the Coytōchte can command considerable resources, more than enough for any needs you may develop."
With the contract signed and payment made, the wheels were set in motion.
Bjeorg, two days later
Two cargo ships, the Palcuā and the Huithuit, arrived at Bjeorg. Their manifests would indicate that they were delivering agricultural vehicles and workers. This amused the Coytōchte soldiers aboard; they weren't farmers, but they were about to plant a seed of rebellion.
Huitzitaca, Xiomeran Empire
June 17th, 1991 (atl 17, xatl techalotl, 1991)
The flight from Iustitia City to Huitzitaca was a smooth and quick one. Nathan Bosley couldn't help but marvel as the plane cruised above the clouds.
The direct flight to Huitzitaca was the only flight between Xiomera and Libertas Omnium Maximus, and was not a major priority for Xiomeran Imperial Airways. Nevertheless, the Xiomeran flagship carrier was clearly determined not to let anyone find even the slightest flaw in its operations. From the boarding procedure to the spotlessly clean plane, and all the way down to the attentive and polite flight attendants, the pickiest traveler couldn't have found anything to complain about. Even the flight attendants were turned out in military precision, without a stray hair, wrinkle to their uniforms or scuff on their highly polished shoes.
Xiomerans are supposed to be perfectionists, Bosley thought to himself. If they're all like this, that's a good sign.
Bosley wasn't his real name; who he actually was hardly mattered. What mattered was his mission. Bjeorg was in need of help if their dreams were to be realized. The kind of help that Xiomera, if rumors held true, could supply in abundance.
His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle hand on his shoulder. "We are about to land in Huitzitaca, sir. Do you require anything else before we land?" one of the flight attendants asked.
"No, thank you, madam," Bosley replied. "You have been very gracious, but I will take care of everything I need once we land."
---
The passage through Xiomeran Imperial Customs and Border Security was as efficient and precise as the flight; a quick scan of Bosley's passport and identification, and an equally quick check to make sure no red flags came up, and it was done. "Welcome to the Xiomeran Empire, Mr. Bosley. If you proceed down the passageway, you can retrieve your baggage and either hire a car or obtain other transport to the city," the border guard said firmly, gesturing him forward and already preparing to check the next arriving passenger.
The passageway led him to the lobby of the international terminal, where Bosley looked over a piece of paper before proceeding to a specific check-in stand. Ixmoc Transportation Services, the sign read in multiple languages, including Xiomeran Huenyan and, thankfully, English. "I have a trip reserved to this location," Bosley told the attendant, passing him another piece of paper. The attendant calmly reviewed the travel pass. "Yes, sir, you are expected. Please proceed to Transit Stop C in front of the terminal, and board Ixmoc Transport Vehicle 34," he said, stamping the travel pass and handing it back over.
When Bosley arrived at the designated stop, a white van with the Ixmoc logo was waiting. Bosley handed another attendant his pass, and boarded the van while his luggage was placed in the back. The van then slowly left the terminal area, proceeding out of the airport into the bustling heart of Huitzitaca. Xiomera's largest port was historically the gateway for foreigners to enter the Xiomeran Empire, as well as the major port serving the Imperial capital of Tlālacuetztla, sixty miles away. Over time, the two cities had essentially merged, forming a sprawling metropolis that served as the heart of both commerce and governance for the entire Empire. The trip took Bosley through a city that was constantly in flux. Construction cranes everywhere reached for the sky, seeming to rival the height of the towering buildings already in place. But it wasn't the skyscrapers that Bosley was there to see.
After a while, the van exited the highway and took a winding drive down a loop road surrounding the massive port. The buildings took on a lower height and an industrial character; this was clearly a service area for the port. Eventually, the van pulled up in front of a complex of low-slung, black-hued stone buildings with a large wall around them. "We are at your destination, sir," the driver told Bosley. "Please exit."
Bosley stepped out of the van, slightly apprehensive even though the trip had been planned in advance. He found himself in front of the massive double doors that seemed to be the only break in the wall. A pair of watchtowers flanked the entry, with a single word in Xiomeran Huenyan lettering between them. Coytōchte, the sign read. Apparently, this is the sort of place that you know what it is if you're supposed to be here, and if you're not supposed to be here, you don't need to know what it is, Bosley mused without humor to himself.
The trip to this strange place, for Bosley, had begun in an airport terminal back home. But the road that had led him here actually begun three days earlier, and sixty miles to the north.
Palace of Flowers, Tlālacuetztla
June 14th, 1991 (atl 14, xatl techalotl, 1991)
Meetings of the Emperor's Cabinet were usually a dull affair: routine matters of governance, occasional subtle sarcasm or jockeying for power or position, the uninteresting sausage-making that went into running a centuries-old Empire. Today, however, promised to be interesting.
"We have received a Notice of Solicitation for Mercenary Operations from the Coytōchte Firm," Zocoatl said. The Secretary for Trade and Economic Relations slid a series of red folders to the center of the large, highly polished sacred-fir conference table.
"What of it? Our mercenary firms get bids all the time," Xochca, the cihuacoatl of Xiomera, snorted. "How is a simple commercial contract worth this council's time?"
Zocoatl raised an eyebrow. "As I was about to explain," he said coolly, deliberately using the tones of Huenyan meant to convey subtle disdain to annoy Xochca, "this concerns a matter of one of our neighbors. I have discussed this with the Secretaries of Security and Defense, and they concur that this requires the Emperor's consideration."
At that, the man seated at the head of the table opened his eyes. Xolōtl, Emperor of Xiomera, raised a hand expectantly. One of his attendants quickly picked up one of the red folders and handed it to him, bowing. Xolōtl opened it and began to read, waving his other hand sharply to silence the chatter of the Cabinet. Once he was done reading, he closed the folder and handed it back to his attendant. "Read. Then speak," the Emperor commanded. Once the rest of the Cabinet had finished reading, Xolōtl pointed a single imperious finger at Zocoatl. "So the people of Bjeorg have solicited our mercenaries. Do you think we should allow it?"
"I do," Zocoatl said. "It's a business opportunity, of course. As is the law, the Coytōchte Firm would be required to donate 5% of their earnings from the mercenary contract to the government. So there is profit in it. But also, there is opportunity in other ways. If Bjeorg succeeds, their government and their people would be inclined to look upon anyone who helped them as a friend. The Empire can always use more friends."
"But we hardly need to make more enemies," Xochca said sharply. "If the Maximusians discover that we have aided Bjeorg in their plans, they will most certainly not see us in a friendly light. Why should we take that kind of chance? I do not see the reward as commensurate to the risk."
"Not commensurate? Did you read the part about how much Bjeorg is willing to pay for mercenaries?" Zocoatl retorted.
"There is no risk," Macuh, the Secretary for International Affairs, said with a slight smile on his face. "After all, it is not the government of Xiomera that would be aiding the separatists. It would be a private mercenary company, that just happens to be based in Xiomera, doing so. And since we are a land of free enterprise, we can't reasonably be expected to tell our companies how to conduct their business," Macuh added with his smile slowly widening into a smirk.
Of course, everyone around the conference table knew fully well that the Xiomeran government did, in fact, tell businesses what to do all the time, if it deemed it to be in the Imperial interest. But no one else needed to know that.
Emperor Xolōtl thought for a moment, then turned to Zocoatl. "Inform Coytōchte that they may accept the Bjeorg bid. But also deliver my personal message: if they do anything that gets this government in trouble with the Maximusians, I will personally cut off Axī's head."
Zocoatl nodded. "I think he already expects that, but I will certainly deliver the message."
Coytōchte Firm headquarters, Huitzitaca
Three days later
As Bosley stood in front of the massive gates, several guards came out to greet him. All of them were dressed in black fatigues with no insignia except for stars on the lapels to denote rank. They also all had XM-01 Tlihuatl assault rifles slung over their shoulders, a fact that drew Bosley's immediate attention.
A man with three stars on each lapel strode forward. He was not carrying a rifle, but did have a XM-38 Huatlxōc sidearm strapped to his waist. "You must be Mr. Bosley. I am Caltē, Chief Training Officer for the Coytōchte Firm. We have been expecting you. Please follow me," Caltē said.
The mercenary led Bosley through the gates into a courtyard that served as a parade ground and training area. As Bosley walked through the courtyard with his escort, he could see mercenaries training at various stages. Hand-to-hand combat, firearms training, and in the distance, various groups even seemed to be working with artillery and armor units.
The escort eventually led Bosley into a large building that seemed to serve as the mercenary firm's headquarters. At the end of a sparsely decorated lobby, a large room beckoned. Caltē and Bosley went in, while the guards escorting them stood outside.
An older man with four stars on each lapel stood up, shaking Bosley's hand. "I am Axī, Commander of the Coytōchte. Please have a seat."
Bosley sat down, while Caltē remained standing near the door. Axī sat down, placing his hands on the table. "We have received your request for our assistance. We are prepared to sign a contract to assist Bjeorg with whatever it may require. I trust you have the initial payment?"
Bosley nodded. "Once we agree on the terms, I will have the funds wired through a discreet third party as you directed. Half now, half upon the arrival of your advisors and supplies in Bjeorg. Additional expenditures to be determined later, should our needs change or more assistance be required."
"That is acceptable," Axī said, sliding a contract over to Bosley to sign. "1,000 Coytōchte advisors are ready to depart immediately to Bjeorg, along with the initial supplies of weapons and other armaments as agreed. They should arrive within two days. From there, we will begin training and supplying your soldiers. If that training goes well, we will hopefully have no need for further deployments. But if they should be required....we have more than enough men and supplies to perform whatever tasks are required."
"You will forgive me for seeming skeptical," Bosley said, "but while your forces in the courtyard there are impressive, they don't seem to be a huge army."
Axī chuckled at that. "This is our headquarters, sir. It is not our only facility. Trust me when I say the Coytōchte can command considerable resources, more than enough for any needs you may develop."
With the contract signed and payment made, the wheels were set in motion.
Bjeorg, two days later
Two cargo ships, the Palcuā and the Huithuit, arrived at Bjeorg. Their manifests would indicate that they were delivering agricultural vehicles and workers. This amused the Coytōchte soldiers aboard; they weren't farmers, but they were about to plant a seed of rebellion.
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