The majestic cock
Chapter 5: More talk, less action
“Well, what do you make of all this?” Ambassador Stemkumf, ambassador of the Axeon Union to the Empire of all Mankind, asked his counterpart from the Lasce Imperial State.
“I don’t want to be pessimistic, but I doubt the reformer faction has enough pull at this point in time.” Ambassador Neressia of the Lasce Imperial State answered. “They lost a lot of influence among the imperial court in recent years.”
The two of them, along with a gaggle of other diplomats from the various countries of the old continent, were gathered at one of the numerous rooms of the imperial palace. It was a place set aside for them to discuss amongst themselves after observing the daily going ons of the imperial court that rules all of humankind, at least all of humankind that wasn’t under the yoke or influences of all the other races of the old continent, which was still a lot.
“Right, and I wonder whose fault that was?” Stemkumf wondered sarcastically.
“We had casus belli.” Neressia responded through gritted teeth, “Not to mention it’s not our responsibility to be their keeper.”
“Regardless, now we have an even more unstable giant, gathering more rage by the day.”
“With enough bullets, even the gods could be slain.”
“Not if they’re bulletproof.” Ambassador Daricon, ambassador of the Republic of Mundock, butted in. “Rumor has it that there are many among the recent arrivals to this world with abilities to negate our technological advantages.”
“Which won’t be the first time you lot have faced such problems, you guys should have the institutional experiences to deal with this kind of problems.” Neressia remarked casually, attempting to fish for some tidbits of information that might help her nation in what might potentially to be shaping up to be a massive war of the century.
Sure, the rise of the so called incel movement so far has been merely a local to regional concern, purely domestic issues of the human kingdoms, but if the wars of the past century has taught anybody anything it’s that if there’s a bunch of isekai involved, it’s certainly likely to end in country ending catastrophe of some flavor unless countered by overwhelming force or another batch of isekais. Regardless, it’s a of pain and suffering in those incidents, even when war was avoided. Thus, it never hurts to be prepared, even if the majority of preparations tend to be rather futile in the end all things considered.
“Those institutional experiences kinda rotted away in the past half century.” Daricon said bluntly. “With the buffer states in place our attention has been focused on the exploitation of Ironi.”
“So… in the famous words of a certain isekai, ‘we’re borked’.” Neressia muttered.
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” Stemkumf quickly said, “After all, those incels are only mass raping fellow humans on their side of the borders, and it doesn’t look like that’s going to change in the near future.”
“Well, there’s also their increasing influence in some of the kingdoms and by extension the imperial court itself, making the whole of humanity swinging more reactionary.”
“How in the name of gods does those assholes wield such influences?” Neressia asked, to nobody in particular.
“Well, again, mostly because they promised the illusion of greatness and all we offered these days tend to demands of further concessions when not conducting outright war.” Stemkumf said in a deadpanned voice.
The three were silent for a moment, it was a set of impossible goals that they were given from their government: to bring the humans to the modern age while exploiting them to the fullest extent in the meantime. So far the latter tend to far outweigh the former, much to the detriment of their reputation within the human kingdoms.
“So what cards do we have left to play these days anyway?” Neressia was the first to speak again. The bitterness obvious in her voice.
“The usual, incoherent screeching backed by the threats of arms, and praying that they won’t notice the useless of the latter.” Daricon said with grim humor.
“Sometimes I really wish the gods would give us a damn break for once.” Neressia said, in a rare display of obvious frustration.
“I think we should stop calling them gods and just call them as the demonic hellspawns that they actually are.” Stemkumf joked, although there wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice. “There’s no carrot to their stick as far as I could see.”
“Welp, time to get back to work.” Daricon said, looking at his pocket watch, “More listening to the rambling of fools while their country slowly burns from the inside out.”
The last days of the slow death and fall of a once mighty empire tend to produce the greatest of farces, as either lone individuals make valiant but ultimately futile stand against the coming darkness, or fiddle around while the legacies of their ancestors crumble around them and the barbarians surge through the gates. The last days of the Empire of all Mankind was little different in that regard, for every isekai who fancied himself as the genius needed to prevent a French Revolution style collapse of the empire ten more lie in wait for their chance to lead hordes of assless chaps wearing barbarians in the expected ‘Mad Max’ style post apocalyptic hellscape. Both are of course outnumbered by the rising tide of the incel movement, who with each village and hamlet they descended upon their numbers of slaves and followers swell.
There is no hope left for the past, even if for the first time there were plenty of people gathering the last remnants of it, for historical curiosity's sake or more cynically as a warning to future generations.
This time, there will be no losing the memories to twisted into myth and legends, no whitewashing of supposed ancient heroes and their alleged noble actions. This time, there will the cold silent lens of the camera, bearing witness to horrors that no mortals could stomach.
Reporter Dave Jameson of the Luna Times was bored, looking out his hotel window he wondered what in the name of the gods prompted him to accept this posting to the heart of the human empire.
It sure wasn’t the alleged prospect of adventure and excitement, he’s too much jaded for that kind of cheap lies.
It wasn’t for the supposed interest in a whole different culture, seemly still living out of the pages of a history book, he knew the reality was simply a morass of girm, filth, suffering, and oppression.
Ah, he remembered, it was to get away from his failures at home; two failed marriages (thank goodness the Union’s laws concerning marriages and divorces are modern and secular, seeing it as more akin to contract than some sacred oath), a flopping novelist career, a gambling problem (not that he was losing, no, he was winning too much, and those angry orcs had knives and the rage to impulsively use them).
Well, doesn’t matter what his decisions then were, just that now he’s stuck in the heart of a dying country, if not a dying people, and slow death are always such a pain to watch…