[Xiomera]

January 22, three hours after the Xiomeran landing
Council of Custodians Chambers, Port Salad

General Tecalca strode briskly up the stairs of the quaint little building that housed the Saladian legislature. An honor guard of Imperial Marines flanked him as he entered the building. He nodded in approval as he noted the other Marines taking up position around the Council building. The Saladian guards had been disarmed and placed into custody when the Xiomerans landed. So far, none of the Saladians had offered any resistance at all, which puzzled the General. But he wasn't inclined to press the issue. His task force was fully in control of Port Salad, as planned. And so far, not a shot had been fired, nor any injuries suffered at all by any of his soldiers. That was a success, in his mind, and he was determined to keep things that way. The General had arrived to dictate terms to the Saladians.

When he entered the small, almost cozy Council Chamber, Tecalca noted that everyone he had demanded be present was in fact there. What passed for a Saladian defense command was lined up against one wall under guard. Police Commissioner Katherine Rudhall looked like she wanted to punch every Xiomeran present, he noted with amusement. General Valentin Daucourt, commander of the Saladian "army", simply looked resigned to the situation. Quinn Mitchell, the commander of the Saladian Air Patrol, also looked like he wanted to punch some Xiomerans. That earned another slight smile of contempt from Tecalca.

In their respective seats, the members of the Council of Custodians were seated, also under guard. Their expressions ranged from stony to clearly frightened. Tecalca dismissed them as the politicians they were.

At the front of the room, as far as Tecalca was concerned, were the only two people that mattered in this farce. Leighton Taylor, the Prime Minister whose order to seize Xiomeran assets had sparked this whole mess, stared down Tecalca with his own expression of contempt for the swaggering General. Next to the PM stood the person who was really in charge of this basket case of a country, though. The Marquis, Bastien de Salad. He stared back at Tecalca with a broad smile on his face. What an idiot grin. Is the man stupid or just foolish? Tecalca wondered.

Stopping a few feet away from Taylor and the Marquis, the General pulled out a tablet from his uniform pocket. "Leaders of Salad Land. I am General Tecalca of the Imperial Marines, commanding the Punitive Expedition. I am here to dictate the terms for which Xiomera shall withdraw from Salad Land. As punishment for your arrogant treatment of our Empire and its people, the following terms must be met. First, you shall immediately release all Xiomeran assets, funds and property which have been seized by your government and return them to the control of their rightful owners. Second, you shall immediately remit all funds owed to the Zacuetz and Mizhua Corporations by your government for work done here. Third, you shall issue an apology, signed by every Saladian official in this room, for your anti-Xiomeran actions and your insults to our Empire."

As the Saladians began to murmur in a mixture of anger and concern, the General continued with a smirk. "Fourth, you shall agree to cede your Wallington Island to the Empire, for construction of an Imperial colony, naval base and military facility. That island shall become Xiomeran property in perpetuity, and any attempt to reclaim it for Salad Land shall result in immediate re-occupation. And fifth," the General finished, "Prime Minister Leighton Taylor must immediately resign and agree to never hold political office in Salad Land again."

"Outrageous!" Taylor bellowed angrily. "Most of your demands are negotiable, sir. But giving you our land is not. And as for resigning, it will be a cold day in Xiomera before I agree to that!"

"Shut up, Leighton," the Marquis murmured under his breath with the smile still plastered on his face.

Tecalca glared at the Prime Minister. "You don't seem to understand, sir. Let me clarify for you. We currently hold your capital. We can easily take control of your entire country within hours, if it even takes that long. And if we have to do that, we will just keep all of Salad Land in perpetuity as our newest colony. You are in absolutely no position to prevent us from doing so. The fact that we are even offering you terms is a courtesy and gesture on our part. We don't have to offer you a damn thing."

Before Taylor could explode again and really put his foot in it, the Marquis stepped forward. "General. This entire discussion is unseemly. Surely we can conduct this in a more civilized fashion. In the Saladian tradition, I am requesting parley with your leader to resolve this matter."

General Tecalca looked at the Marquis. "You are requesting a meeting...with who? Our Prime Minister?"

"No, no no no," the Marquis laughed. "I am a head of state and a monarch. It is only fitting that I discuss such weighty matters with someone on my level. I need to speak with Empress Calhualyana."

The General looked as if someone had just hit him with a board. "You're....asking to speak to my boss? As if I am some merchant in a shop and you want to speak with the manager? I am a General in the Xiomeran Imperial Marines!"

"Yes, but that's the thing, you do work for the Empress. So, yes, I suppose I am asking to speak to your boss." The Marquis folded his arms and stared calmly at Tecalca. "It is only reasonable that, as the leader of Salad Land, that I speak with her and not one of her underlings."

At the word underling, Tecalca's eyes bulged. "You really want to speak with the Empress? Very well! But you know what they say...be careful what you wish for." The General turned to two of his men. "Bring him!" he snapped, pointing at the Marquis and stomping out of the Chamber. Two of the Imperial Marines took each of de Salad's arms and dragged him along behind the General. As they exited, Taylor looked up at the ceiling. "He's negotiating for us now. God help us all."