State Banquet, Rep. South Darolia(IC, Sign-Up Required)

[South Darolia]

Olufemi Adebanjo leans forward slightly, nodding thoughtfully as he begins, “It’s encouraging, truly—I appreciate your willingness to work with us, and I know this isn’t your first time navigating these waters. But there’s a simple truth here: we need to get the economic side of things right before anything else." He glances briefly at Hamisi and Samir, gauging their reactions, before returning his gaze to the couple. "When we talk about an economic partnership, we're talking about tangible, transformative investment. Mines, yes, but more than that—ports, factories, even the ancillary infrastructure for those factories."

Samir shifts slightly in his seat, leaning back and crossing his arms as he absorbs Adebanjo's words.“Precisely, jobs, training programs for our workforce, a long-term partnership that builds technical expertise right here, not just temporary labor slots. We’re not exactly interested in creating a new underclass of factory workers, no matter how lucrative the output may be," he adds, making eye contact with the couple to reinforce his point.

Hamisi, his expression serious and determined, interjects. “And the military angle—we need strategic assets and the kind of firepower that would make any hostile, in your words, ‘bozos’ from the north think twice. Anti-air systems, armored units, intel-sharing capabilities. You mentioned a deterrent, and I think a superpower such as yourself stationed prominently along the Ighali River..."

He pauses, ensuring his words resonate. "...hold on, Hamisi, hold on..." Adebanjo interrupts, raising a hand slightly to maintain focus. “We’re not asking for a full military base here, but a contingency force capable of rapid deployment, enough to stabilize the region if—when—our neighbors decide to test our borders. Say, a brigade at minimum, with artillery and some airborne support."

Hamisi nods in agreement, his eyes locked on the couple as he articulates his vision. "But we’d want guarantees that as your units deploy, they’re training and engaging with our officers so that we’re not depending solely on your forces indefinitely." Adebanjo allows himself a small, faintly wry smile, acknowledging the need for self-sufficiency. "And if we’re serious about competing with a giant like China, this isn’t the time for half-measures. We need both investment and security."

I hope you know, Jill, that you can't run a country like you would the Combat Information Center of a destroyer...her younger brother Maxwell's words rang as she listened to Adebanjo's words, a sovereign is not a Tactical Actions Officer, a Lakambini is not a Tactical Actions Officer.

Any sovereign needed both the capability to maintain an overview of not only her realm's welfare, but also remain vigilant of the machinations of the world around her realm, and have the capability to granulate and delegate her strength and energy to the various issues affecting her charge, in this case 1.5 billion Palmyrians living on nearly 4,000,000 square kilometers of dry land.

"I figure an economic partnership, a comprehensive one, would include foreign direct investments and technology transfers - and technical-vocational training programs." Jill, having given their words some thought, biding a little bit of her time to contemplate before replying, responded in a decisive, approving tone.

"And any military cooperation program would include cross-training between Palmyrian and South Darolian forces, I'm sure, as well as intelligence cooperation between our countries' military intelligence agencies." she added, underscoring that cooperation between allies meant not just fighting shoulder-to-shoulder, but also training with each other, and telling what each other saw. She should know, having been to regular naval exercises and joint operations with key allies such as Holy Marsh and Allanea, and working with Naval Intelligence and Strategic Reconnaissance spookies.

Anti-air and armor... Jason contemplated, rubbing his chin as he looked to his side. Certainly, armor had a role to play in jungle warfare; they should know, having deployed tanks in the jungle in the internal security crises of the past 14 years. The sight of 60-ton-beasts just casually shrugging aside and toppling over all but the mightiest of trees and the impossible thickest of vegetation (and even then, dismounts would hack through it) was quite the spectacle in the jungles of Palmyrion, especially in the Cagayan Valley lowlands. The Cordilleras and the islands of Sulu and Mindanao, however, were another thing entirely; more air assault than it was armor, but the sight of air assault troops fast-roping and dismounting off of up-armored transport choppers and directly into the thick of the fight with insurgents accompanied with attack chopper strafing runs was one to behold, lacking only Richard Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries as a musical accompaniment.

Then there was anti-air, and air superiority in the whole.

If we lose the war in the air, we lose the war and lose it quickly. —Bernard Montgomery.

The North Darolians didn't have anything in the realm of ballistic missiles, but from what he knew probably had a self-respecting, if somewhat under-equipped, air force. They'd have to counter it with an air force of their own, and air defense assets from the ground. With TUAS threats proliferating, it was important that they deploy substantial air defense assets to go with whatever they would agree to send.

With the South Darolians themselves suggesting a brigade with artillery and airborne support, the idea of an air assault brigade reinforced with air defense assets quickly shaped up in his mind. Well, the air assault brigade had organic artillery assets, after all, in the form of the artillery battalion; it just needed attached aviation assets from their parent division's combat aviation brigade, and if they needed extra firepower attached artillery assets from their parent division's divisional artillery brigade.

"Well, that sounds adequate, Your Royal Highness," murmured Samir Kamara, his voice barely masking the unease that settled upon him as he adjusted himself awkwardly in his chair. To say he was a timid man would have been a severe understatement; Samir Kamara was a man who avoided even his own reflection if it looked him squarely in the eye. And yet, he was—of all people—chosen to represent their fledgling, newly independent nation as an observer in the World Assembly. His selection was not the result of any remarkable merit or political prowess. No, like so many others of his kind, his position of influence had been delivered to him on the platters of kinship and convenience. Nepotism had slithered its way into the country’s foundations, weaving a web that had already tightened to choking effect around their northern neighbor, dragging it into a slow, desperate scavenge for any foothold of stability, economic or otherwise.

Across the table, Olufemi Adebanjo shifted with practiced nonchalance, leaning forward and taking a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar. Smoke billowed lazily around his face, curling upwards as he laid his hands on the red cloth table in a manner that hinted at a subtle choreography perfected for moments of assumed importance. He spoke finally, his voice laced with the placid confidence of a man who, unlike Kamara, had not merely inherited his power but rather wielded it with a raw, unfettered ambition. "It seems we have indeed found the money for our five-year plan," he said with a smile—if one could call it a smile at all. His lips stretched from eye to eye in an expression so rehearsed and artificial that it was almost cartoonish, the sort of grin one might see on the face of a marionette pulled by unseen strings.

"Your Royal Highness," Adebanjo continued, extending a broad hand across the table to the delegation, his fingers spread like the branches of some ancient tree, "this seems like the beginning of a most prosperous relationship. It is, a pleasure to do business with you." His hand hung in the air, waiting with the persistence of a man who has never considered the remote possibility of a refusal.

"Palmyrion military support would be greatly appreciated," Hamisi added without so much as a glance upward. His gaze remained firmly anchored on the portfolio splayed before him, a meticulous arrangement of briefing papers that he studied with a dispassionate intensity. Hamisi was not here for the fanfare nor the diplomatic theater so many seemed eager to indulge. He viewed it all as little more than frivolity, the kind of performative decorum the world indulged in when unwilling to face harder truths. Unlike his colleagues, Hamisi had neither the patience nor the inclination for fake pleasantries or long-winded speeches. In fact, the very idea of small talk grated against him as an inefficient expenditure of both time and energy. The recent surge in regional tensions had sharpened his focus, setting him squarely on edge; in his mind, South Darolia’s military readiness was paramount, a matter that could not—would not—be diminished by pleasantries or platitudes.

[South Darolia]

"Yes, of course, the drive for more electric vehicles, albeit not yet affordable for the general populace in New Mivango, well, we naturally hope that it will become more affordable to ordinary Mivangese, and ultimately, to more ordinary South Darolians as well. That is a long-term project and investment. We would naturally want both of our peoples to benefit from such an investment. The demand for lithium for our electric batteries would absolutely mean a lot of revenue flowing into your coffers, one would think, and by yours, I mean that of the people of South Darolia through the government and the state mining firm. I suppose that is a large part of the point of nationalization in your country's case, to ensure that the income from your mining ventures flows directly into the national wealth itself, rather than being pocketed by the oligarchs and robber barons of the past. No doubt, of course, your Trade Minister will have to weigh in to ensure the government's own perspective is decisive in this matter.

"As for the teachers, I would be more than happy to do my part to encourage Mivangese teachers to work closely with your Education Ministry and your schools to help with such efforts as STEM courses, for instance. It would be in the hands of my successor, whomever that is, to carry on such an initiative. It is clear that your future is in the hands of youth such as yours, the next generation of South Darolians, oui?" Jeanne nervously, but enthusiastically encouraged such ideas....she wanted to have a legacy of helping make South Darolia a strong trading partner of New Mivango's.

The politics would be an internal matter for a sovereign nation, of course. A better-educated socialist state would be a far better partner than a poorly educated one. New Mivango would work as easily with a socialist country as with a capitalist one. It could make a huge difference in their standard of living, whatever the limitations of any particular political, social, or economic order. Jeanne ate her food calmly and slowly, digesting it carefully as she awaited the response of her hosts. It was very well-seasoned cuisine, after all. That was another potential market for this country, should it be so inclined.

“Well, Madam President, I must say that your focus on the public as a public servant is a welcome rarity” announced Ngozi Chukwuma, her words designed to command attention from even the most inattentive ear among her colleagues. As the sole woman on the President’s cabinet, Ngozi had long been subjected to the kind of dismissal and condescension that the others reserved for life-sentenced convicts; her contributions were as often brushed aside as if she were a mere ornament rather than an equal to her peers. But as a woman of unyielding spirit, she laced her every word with a steely assurance that brooked no opposition. “I couldn’t be more supportive of education, Madam President, and it pains me to say our current system is grievously lacking — strangled, as it is, by the competing interests that our government has seen fit to prioritize over the needs of our schools. However, a proposal such as this could strike a needed balance, allowing us to improve our education system without siphoning funds from other critical resources.”

A harsh, guttural laugh interrupted her, and all eyes turned to Ademola Folarin, who lounged in his chair with the indolent abandon of a man who fancied himself both untouchable and irrefutable. His body sprawled in a manner more befitting a barnyard beast than a member of the nation’s elite. His hand was still clamped around a half-eaten entrée, crumbs speckling his lips as he gestured lazily. “The cost of lithium is ours, you fool!” he barked, spitting a few stray morsels as he spoke. “Forgive me if I sound blunt, Madam President,” he continued with the theatrical sarcasm of a bad actor “but we have far more pressing issues than education.” He drew out the word with a sneer that seemed to linger in the air like an unpleasant odor. “The economy is a shambles, disease runs rampant, our infrastructure is crumbling, crime is on the rise — and let us not forget our dear neighbors to the north, who may yet decide to blow us all to pieces!”

“He makes a fair point, Ngozi,” murmured Chinelo Obafemi, his voice laced with the faintest edge of condescension. “Surely, Madam President, that money might be more effectively applied to…other pressing needs.” his lips curved into a smug smile, as if certain that his point required no further elaboration.

“Well, I’m not so certain,” Olawale Banjo interjected, casting a tentative glance around the table. “After all, New Mivango has a first rate education system, and if we could access even a fraction of that expertise for a modest portion of our lithium exports, it could prove invaluable. I mean, have any of you seen the schools in the Qadari province? Some of them don’t even have roofs.”

Ngozi inclined her head slightly, grateful for the support, but it was Chinelo’s smirk that drew her attention. “Unfortunately for you, Olawale...and Ngozi” he drawled, with a faint hint of amusement, “the government’s five-year plan seems to disagree. Educated workers are all well and good, but what we need — as our leadership so astutely recognizes — is investment, construction, and unshakable infrastructure. So, then,” he said, turning his gaze toward the President, “what say you, Madam President?”

[Meresed]

"Well said, President Cooper. And I suppose I shouldn't let my ideals cloud the future of South Darolia," Adebayo leaned back with a faint smile, his tone layered with just enough patronization to convey the impression of an intellectual superior. Minister Ijeoma Maduka cleared his throat, gaze shifting to President Cooper. "President Cooper, I’m not here to debate the ideology of the state. Our people’s demands for efficient, affordable transportation are not an abstract ideal but a necessity. And I won’t deny that South Darolia could benefit from a friend in Meresed—provided we establish clear terms and transparency in every step of this venture."

“President Cooper, let me speak plainly,” Odili began. “Our nation’s finances are in severe distress. With sanctions restricting our access to international lending facilities, we’re blacklisted from nearly every major bank and financial institution, including the IMF. South Darolia cannot sustain further debt, and even if we could, we have no access to conventional international credit lines. To avoid further economic instability, we must be pragmatic with this agreement. Cash is not an option for us." Odili explained, his voice carrying a deliberate steadiness. "We’ve recently discovered extensive offshore oil reserves, In exchange for a mass shipment of automobiles, we could arrange a deal to supply Meresed with oil at a favorable rate. I propose we negotiate a long-term contract at a discount in exchange for these vehicles. Alternatively, if Meresed’s industries have interest in lithium, our reserves are extensive and not close to depletion. We could establish a direct supply chain, bypassing other markets and offering your industries access to a vital raw material.”

Shawn smiled back at the two of them. He had enough university professors to make them feel secure. And at least now, maybe the professor was superior, he was the one who lived through the fires of war, that counts for a lot in wisdom alone. The President chewed thoughtfully listening to Odili's proposal. It would definitely take some structuring but he was sure he could get a deal hammered out. Oil would be nice, no one would argue with lowered gas prices due to increased oil supply; however, considering the demand for lithium for electronic vehicles that seemed to be the better choice. It would effectively be a subsidy on those vehicles. He could smell the bids coming in now. "Well Officer Odili, I think that lithium offer would have every Meresedian car company beating down your door to partner with your nation. I'm sure that we can get a deal confirmed to your liking within no time. You know, frankly it is a bit reassuring to know that your mining is nationalized. Too often we hear about mining operations rife with corruption, child labor, unsafe practices, the works, but since your mining sector answers directly to the nation that's a very good sign." The President's voice was relaxed, taking the opportunity to learn about South Darolia from the experts sitting before him.

As the conversation had a brief pause, Shawn felt pleased with what had just occurred, he had worked out a deal, probably gained some good PR, and successfully created a relationship with a nation. What started as a trade agreement today might grow into a cultural exchange later. Shiaming had informed the president during the dinner that the two nations had both condemned the actions of an authoritarian government that was committing genocide, who knows maybe the two nations would be on the same side of a conflict soon. "You must send my regards to your culinary staff they have done an excellent job."

[South Darolia]

"Well said, President Cooper. And I suppose I shouldn't let my ideals cloud the future of South Darolia," Adebayo leaned back with a faint smile, his tone layered with just enough patronization to convey the impression of an intellectual superior. Minister Ijeoma Maduka cleared his throat, gaze shifting to President Cooper. "President Cooper, I’m not here to debate the ideology of the state. Our people’s demands for efficient, affordable transportation are not an abstract ideal but a necessity. And I won’t deny that South Darolia could benefit from a friend in Meresed—provided we establish clear terms and transparency in every step of this venture."

“President Cooper, let me speak plainly,” Odili began. “Our nation’s finances are in severe distress. With sanctions restricting our access to international lending facilities, we’re blacklisted from nearly every major bank and financial institution, including the IMF. South Darolia cannot sustain further debt, and even if we could, we have no access to conventional international credit lines. To avoid further economic instability, we must be pragmatic with this agreement. Cash is not an option for us." Odili explained, his voice carrying a deliberate steadiness. "We’ve recently discovered extensive offshore oil reserves, In exchange for a mass shipment of automobiles, we could arrange a deal to supply Meresed with oil at a favorable rate. I propose we negotiate a long-term contract at a discount in exchange for these vehicles. Alternatively, if Meresed’s industries have interest in lithium, our reserves are extensive and not close to depletion. We could establish a direct supply chain, bypassing other markets and offering your industries access to a vital raw material.”

Shawn smiled back at the two of them. He had enough university professors to make them feel secure. And at least now, maybe the professor was superior, he was the one who lived through the fires of war, that counts for a lot in wisdom alone. The President chewed thoughtfully listening to Odili's proposal. It would definitely take some structuring but he was sure he could get a deal hammered out. Oil would be nice, no one would argue with lowered gas prices due to increased oil supply; however, considering the demand for lithium for electronic vehicles that seemed to be the better choice. It would effectively be a subsidy on those vehicles. He could smell the bids coming in now. "Well Officer Odili, I think that lithium offer would have every Meresedian car company beating down your door to partner with your nation. I'm sure that we can get a deal confirmed to your liking within no time. You know, frankly it is a bit reassuring to know that your mining is nationalized. Too often we hear about mining operations rife with corruption, child labor, unsafe practices, the works, but since your mining sector answers directly to the nation that's a very good sign." The President's voice was relaxed, taking the opportunity to learn about South Darolia from the experts sitting before him.

As the conversation had a brief pause, Shawn felt pleased with what had just occurred, he had worked out a deal, probably gained some good PR, and successfully created a relationship with a nation. What started as a trade agreement today might grow into a cultural exchange later. Shiaming had informed the president during the dinner that the two nations had both condemned the actions of an authoritarian government that was committing genocide, who knows maybe the two nations would be on the same side of a conflict soon. "You must send my regards to your culinary staff they have done an excellent job."

"Well, that's a different opinion than most, President Cooper. A welcome one at that," the condescending Professor Faleye said, his tone oozing an air of self-satisfied superiority. From his seat, he gazed at the President, his mind unmistakably shocked but eager to seize the moment for his own vanity. "I made the exact same points in my doctoral dissertation at the University College London, titled The Historical Causes and Effects of an Unchecked Capitalist System," he continued, carefully enunciating the title as though it were the crown jewel of modern intellectual thought. "Of course," he added with a theatrical flourish of his hand, "more academically and intellectually, but still the same points—yet none of the people who read it agreed." His eyes darted around the room as if daring anyone to challenge him, lingering just long enough on each face to sow discomfort. "I suppose this proves them wrong," he concluded triumphantly, his words hanging in the air with the weight of a gavel strike. Professor Faleye leaned back in his chair, his wiry frame sinking into the cushion as a grotesquely cartoonish smile stretched across his face, lips curling unnaturally from cheek to cheek. His smile did not convey warmth; instead, it resembled the fixed grimace of a jack-o'-lantern.

At the precise moment when Professor Faleye, whose oratory bore an uncanny resemblance to the endless droning of a bee trapped in a vast, sunlit conservatory, paused—whether for breath, for effect, or merely to consult his well-worn notes—Maduka seized the fleeting gap in his near-eternal waffle. The younger man, leaned forward “Well, I see no problem with that. Although, I must clarify, it isn’t my decision to make" His gaze flickered momentarily towards the cluster of nodding heads and furrowed brows encircling him, as if to summon their unspoken assent. “But,” he pressed on, “if it were up to me, I’d say we would absolutely agree to trade a mass shipment of cars for lithium.” Here, Maduka allowed a brief pause to punctuate his words, a technique born less of rhetorical training and more of instinctual cunning. When no objections rose, he pressed further.

“Of course, we’ll take responsibility for refining the raw lithium, into the necessary form for battery production. But,” he continued, raising one finger like a lecturer mid-argument, “you will need to handle the actual production of the batteries yourselves." The table remained hushed but for the soft scratching of pens against paper and the faint shuffle of a chair. “Now, let us talk specifics, South Darolia has a population of approximately twenty-four million souls. Of that number, ten million currently own personal vehicles—a rather pitiful figure. With that in mind,” he continued, warming to his theme, “I believe that a steady supply of any old beaters—no need for anything fancy, perhaps 1,000 monthy—shipped directly from Meresed for several years would close the gap quite admirably. It would bring car ownership to decent levels and allow the poor greater freedom."

[New Mivango]

"What I am gathering that the education system needs is personnel, whereas what the the infrastructure needs is cash and other resources. I do not see a conflict between these two. We can send teachers to the schools to assist, even as we send some loans to assistance in the development of your infrastructure and other important areas. Both are absolutely vital to the future of a nation and allowing it to compete on the global stage. I will issue instructions to our ministries of finance, education, science, transportation, industrial development, etc. These will begin the process, but it will be crucial for the next President to follow through after February when they take office. I will push for a sizable aid package, of course, and seek to encourage our various state and private firms to establish joint-ventures whenever they are helpful in this process," Jeanne had to tread carefully, but ultimately, she believed that this was a false dilemma.

If the teachers were what the schools needed, that could be done without compromising the other kinds of aid to other areas of development. She sat and drank some sparkling water with her rather delicious meal as she awaited their response. These were different areas with different needs and neither area needed to be sacrificed on the altar of the other. She just hoped that the South Darolians would see it that way, too.

[South Darolia]

"What I am gathering that the education system needs is personnel, whereas what the the infrastructure needs is cash and other resources. I do not see a conflict between these two. We can send teachers to the schools to assist, even as we send some loans to assistance in the development of your infrastructure and other important areas. Both are absolutely vital to the future of a nation and allowing it to compete on the global stage. I will issue instructions to our ministries of finance, education, science, transportation, industrial development, etc. These will begin the process, but it will be crucial for the next President to follow through after February when they take office. I will push for a sizable aid package, of course, and seek to encourage our various state and private firms to establish joint-ventures whenever they are helpful in this process," Jeanne had to tread carefully, but ultimately, she believed that this was a false dilemma.

If the teachers were what the schools needed, that could be done without compromising the other kinds of aid to other areas of development. She sat and drank some sparkling water with her rather delicious meal as she awaited their response. These were different areas with different needs and neither area needed to be sacrificed on the altar of the other. She just hoped that the South Darolians would see it that way, too.

"Personnel, loans, investments — all sounds terribly noble, Madam President,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he swirled the remnants of his drink lazily in his glass. “But noble intentions don’t fix roads or secure borders, do they? We’re drowning in priorities, yet you’re asking us to believe that teachers — teachers! — are the magic salve for a nation choking on its own crises.”

Ngozi’s sharp intake of breath broke the uneasy silence that followed. She sat upright, her shoulders square, “And I’d say your own arrogance is short-sighted, Mr. Folarin. You speak as though education is some trifling luxury, yet without it, where will you find the engineers to build your precious roads? The scientists to combat your diseases?"

Olawale shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “I… I don’t see why it can’t be both,” he ventured cautiously, his tone earnest but hesitant, like a man stepping into the middle of a duel. “Madam President’s point makes sense. These aren’t competing needs; they’re complementary. The schools need teachers, yes, but they also need roofs, desks, books. And if education is neglected, we’ll only compound our problems down the line.” He glanced at Ngozi, finding courage in her unwavering gaze. “And I’d wager that investing in infrastructure without investing in people is no investment at all.”

Ademola rolled his eyes, muttering something incoherent as he reached for another morsel, but Ngozi seized the opportunity. “Exactly,” she said, leaning forward, her voice rising with conviction. “This isn’t a matter of choosing one over the other. It’s about vision — about seeing beyond the immediate and understanding how these pieces fit together. Madam President,” she added, turning directly to Jeanne, “if your ministries can commit to both goals, you’ll find no stronger ally than me to see it through.”

[Meresed]

"Well, that's a different opinion than most, President Cooper. A welcome one at that," the condescending Professor Faleye said, his tone oozing an air of self-satisfied superiority. From his seat, he gazed at the President, his mind unmistakably shocked but eager to seize the moment for his own vanity. "I made the exact same points in my doctoral dissertation at the University College London, titled The Historical Causes and Effects of an Unchecked Capitalist System," he continued, carefully enunciating the title as though it were the crown jewel of modern intellectual thought. "Of course," he added with a theatrical flourish of his hand, "more academically and intellectually, but still the same points—yet none of the people who read it agreed." His eyes darted around the room as if daring anyone to challenge him, lingering just long enough on each face to sow discomfort. "I suppose this proves them wrong," he concluded triumphantly, his words hanging in the air with the weight of a gavel strike. Professor Faleye leaned back in his chair, his wiry frame sinking into the cushion as a grotesquely cartoonish smile stretched across his face, lips curling unnaturally from cheek to cheek. His smile did not convey warmth; instead, it resembled the fixed grimace of a jack-o'-lantern.

At the precise moment when Professor Faleye, whose oratory bore an uncanny resemblance to the endless droning of a bee trapped in a vast, sunlit conservatory, paused—whether for breath, for effect, or merely to consult his well-worn notes—Maduka seized the fleeting gap in his near-eternal waffle. The younger man, leaned forward “Well, I see no problem with that. Although, I must clarify, it isn’t my decision to make" His gaze flickered momentarily towards the cluster of nodding heads and furrowed brows encircling him, as if to summon their unspoken assent. “But,” he pressed on, “if it were up to me, I’d say we would absolutely agree to trade a mass shipment of cars for lithium.” Here, Maduka allowed a brief pause to punctuate his words, a technique born less of rhetorical training and more of instinctual cunning. When no objections rose, he pressed further.

“Of course, we’ll take responsibility for refining the raw lithium, into the necessary form for battery production. But,” he continued, raising one finger like a lecturer mid-argument, “you will need to handle the actual production of the batteries yourselves." The table remained hushed but for the soft scratching of pens against paper and the faint shuffle of a chair. “Now, let us talk specifics, South Darolia has a population of approximately twenty-four million souls. Of that number, ten million currently own personal vehicles—a rather pitiful figure. With that in mind,” he continued, warming to his theme, “I believe that a steady supply of any old beaters—no need for anything fancy, perhaps 1,000 monthy—shipped directly from Meresed for several years would close the gap quite admirably. It would bring car ownership to decent levels and allow the poor greater freedom."

The president allowed the professor to speak. If Cooper knew anything, he knew that experts loved to talk about their field of expertise. From biomechanics to political science, economics, to pure mathematics, they loved to speak. He indulged the man, with occasional “I see that’s intriguing”s and a plethora of nods. Shawn remembered his days in university when he would occasionally get trapped in a professor’s office hours. Times when the question he came with already answered, but it would be deemed too rude and disrespectful to even show discomfort. So he listened.

He let out a small chuckle when Maduka spoke the very second Professor Faleye stopped. He saw the lack of interest in some of the faces of his tablemates and found Maduka’s fast action amusing. He heard the Minster’s request and did some back of the napkin math. Meresed’s automobile manufacturing sector was rather large compared to the country's size. Some reports ranked the industry in the top 25% in the world. The request made was a respectable one, one that showed Maduka didn’t want to be too pushy. “I think we could do that, seems to be a good request.” Cooper said after looking at his work. “What kind of vehicles would be best here? SUVs, sedans, vans? Also are there any things particular to South Darolian culture we should look out for? Like colors your people tend to dislike, or any features you think would be a necessity? I’m sure strong AC is a must here.”

[South Darolia]

The president allowed the professor to speak. If Cooper knew anything, he knew that experts loved to talk about their field of expertise. From biomechanics to political science, economics, to pure mathematics, they loved to speak. He indulged the man, with occasional “I see that’s intriguing”s and a plethora of nods. Shawn remembered his days in university when he would occasionally get trapped in a professor’s office hours. Times when the question he came with already answered, but it would be deemed too rude and disrespectful to even show discomfort. So he listened.

He let out a small chuckle when Maduka spoke the very second Professor Faleye stopped. He saw the lack of interest in some of the faces of his tablemates and found Maduka’s fast action amusing. He heard the Minster’s request and did some back of the napkin math. Meresed’s automobile manufacturing sector was rather large compared to the country's size. Some reports ranked the industry in the top 25% in the world. The request made was a respectable one, one that showed Maduka didn’t want to be too pushy. “I think we could do that, seems to be a good request.” Cooper said after looking at his work. “What kind of vehicles would be best here? SUVs, sedans, vans? Also are there any things particular to South Darolian culture we should look out for? Like colors your people tend to dislike, or any features you think would be a necessity? I’m sure strong AC is a must here.”

“Well, I don’t think the people we’re aiming to get into these cars are going to care about the color, President Copper,” said Ijeoma Maduka with a bluntness that sent a ripple of raised eyebrows around the room. “No offense, but we’re talking about getting the lower middle class, even the working class, into cars — people who, let me remind you, earn less than six dollars an hour, most of them. If a car is available, they’ll buy it. It doesn’t need to be pretty; it doesn’t need to be new. It just needs to run and sell for less than the cost of a lawnmower back in Meresed.” The room seemed to draw a collective breath at this stark pronouncement. After all, the funds for this experiment would be drawn directly from his Ministry, and if there was one thing Ijeoma Maduka detested, it was spending more than he deemed strictly necessary. The long-term sustainability of the program? Well, that was a matter for someone else’s ledger in the distant future. Maduka had no use for distant futures. All he needed was the here and now, a tidy success to trumpet, and a reputation to ride upon until the next cycle of fortune turned.

“But surely there are some exceptions to this, Mr. Maduka? A few rather comfortable cars wouldn’t go amiss, I think — for government employees only, of course,” he added with a sly smile. “Tinted windows, massage seats — you know, those German models. What are they called again?” The faintest murmur of amusement rippled through the room, though Maduka’s pompous expression remained firmly in place.

“And a few transports for the army, a few trucks converted into troop carriers, made for covering rough terrain. For my father i mean.” Onwudiwe said.

“Only if it comes out of your father's funding,” snapped Maduka.

[Palmyrion]

[South Darolia - I'm just gonna quote the entire thing on a URL lol]

Adequate, indeed.

If experience suggests, African regimes like that of South Darolia had their promising starts marred by corruption and internal division. Inter-ethnic and inter-religious strife would fuel dispurchase with the state and the nation, and dispurchase would lead to outright insurgency. Foreign aid and direct investment wouldn't do shit at that point if it came down to that.

It was a mistake that almost toppled the Palmyrian Monarchy in the past 15 or so years, 25 if one was willing to stretch their minds and attribute Palmyrion's internal security crisis to post-Reunion woes left half-addressed. Gentrification and development aggression in the wake of the Royal Commonwealth's reunion left many left out, particularly those at the receiving end of inequality rising unchecked. However with secession attempts vanquished through overwhelming military force and reconstruction efforts redoubled with a community development focus, it seemed that optimism in the monarchy's ability to restabilize the nation was starting to mount.

Jill just hoped they didn't repeat the mistakes that the Royal Palmyrian Commonwealth made, as she and Jason took their hands and exchanged handshakes with them.

And with guarded optimism, Jill remarked: "I shall see to it that this international partnership bears mutual fruit for us."