2:00 PM, December 14, 2020/4017, Fourth Era.

  Republic of Kyrgyzstan, Capital Bishkek.

  Inside a spacious room, the leaders of Russia, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Tajikistan are seated around a conference table. Today, they have gathered for an urgent issue: the threat from the Papaldia Empire.

  The main topic of the meeting is how to respond to Papaldia's aggressive stance. Just days after Foreign Minister Lavrov's return, the Central Asian countries, starting with Kazakhstan, have faced similar situations. Papaldia has approached each country, demanding they become colonies. Of course, these demands have been rejected, but the concerning part is that they have all been threatened.

  Even the mere threats are enough to make Papaldia an unfriendly nation, even hostile. A tense atmosphere envelops the room as the Russian representative is the first to speak.

  "After what we have all experienced here, I think we can agree that Papaldia is undoubtedly a model colonial power. They use national strength as a tool to showcase their power, thereby imposing their interests on others," Foreign Minister Lavrov states, his tone serious.

  "Indeed. Although it remains at the level of threats, I can clearly sense that this nation is falling into something... let's call it an illusion, yes, that's the precise term," Kyrgyz Foreign Minister Aidarbekov interjects. "Papaldia seems to look down on us because we are outside the so-called 'civilized zone.' I have two hypotheses about this: either Papaldia is influenced by the superiority complex of the civilized zone, or they are simply too arrogant, believing themselves to be superior."

  "Strong, huh?" General Sharipov scoffs. "What can a nation with technology equivalent to Napoleonic France do?"

  "Remember, this world has magic, something we still do not fully understand," Ambassador Karimov interjects, cutting off Sharipov. He turns to ask the Russian Foreign Minister, "Does Moscow have any additional information about Papaldia? Because only Russia has made strides in exploring this world."

  "This..." Lavrov hesitates slightly before responding. "We still have many limitations, but regarding life within Papaldia, I might be able to share some information."

  He continues, his voice slow but steady. "Based on what a special task force of ours has gathered while infiltrating their territory, I can describe that life within Papaldia is highly polarized. In rural areas, people live in poverty and deprivation. In contrast, urban areas, especially the original Papaldia, are quite prosperous."

  "Wait, the original Papaldia? What does that mean?" The Tajik ambassador looks puzzled.

  Lavrov explains. "That refers to the original territory of Papaldia when it was still a kingdom. The history of this nation is quite complex, similar to ancient Rome. However, Papaldia has escaped collapse and developed into a colonial empire, partly explaining their current arrogance."

  "I'm not so sure," Aidarbekov frowns. "Is information from a special task force reliable enough? Moreover, we are currently focused on recovering from the consequences of being displaced, especially since we don't even have a navy. If Russia wants to launch a retaliatory attack, there needs to be a more convincing reason."

  "At present, Russia has no intention of carrying out any military action," Lavrov asserts. "The death of our personnel has been kept under wraps and replaced with information about an attack by extremist forces. However, we are preparing for a larger plan: to remove Papaldia from the map."

  Lavrov's statement makes the atmosphere in the room even heavier. "We have begun preparations for a large-scale military operation. We need to act before Papaldia can cause more damage."

  "That certainly works out well for Russia," the Turkmen ambassador sighs. "Russia can easily establish trade and quickly recover, while we have to build new ports to engage in the external market."

  Lavrov nods sympathetically. "I understand the difficulties faced by your countries. Russia has plans to invest in helping members of the Eurasian Economic Union (EAEU) develop infrastructure. We will not leave you behind."

  "That sounds fine, but what about us?" The Tajik Foreign Minister interjects. "Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan - we are not members of the EAEU. How will you assist us?"

  Lavrov ponders the Tajik Foreign Minister's words. He understands that economic interests cannot be overlooked. Each country has its own interests that need protection, even though they were once allies, comrades standing shoulder to shoulder. But since the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, everything has changed.

  Russia's interest has always been to keep neighboring countries from leaning towards the West, especially the U.S. But now, there is no U.S., no EU, no NATO. The opportunity for Russia to rise from the ashes and reclaim its position as a "true bear" has come. Many dream of the return of a powerful Soviet Union, but the truth is, that red dream can never fully return. Even if it wanted to, it would not be complete - a bear that has lost parts of itself will only be a soulless carcass.

  "Perhaps we should consider a cooperation treaty," Lavrov suggests, his gaze sweeping over each member in the room. "We can establish an alliance to protect the interests of all, not just Russia's."

  "An alliance? But that might draw Papaldia's attention to us even more," Aidarbekov worries.

  "That is necessary," Lavrov replies firmly. "If we do not unite, then each country will be attacked piece by piece. We need to create a united front before it is too late."

  The others in the room nod, a slow but clear consensus begins to form. They all understand that the threat from Papaldia cannot be taken lightly, and unity may be the key to their survival in this new world.

  As the meeting continues, ideas for a defense alliance are discussed, plans for territorial protection are proposed, and gradually, a sense of solidarity begins to form among the nations that once stood by each other in the past. Even proposals for military coordination are put forward, opening a new chapter for the relationship between Central Asian countries and Russia.

  "Perhaps a regional survey will be necessary to accurately assess the threat from Papaldia," Ambassador Karimov suggests. "We need complete and accurate information before taking any action."

  "Indeed," Lavrov agrees. "We can send a delegation to scout and gather information. This will help us better understand what Papaldia is planning, as well as prepare for potential scenarios."

  The discussion continues energetically, members begin to envision a strong alliance that can protect their freedom and independence. Anxieties about the future gradually fade, giving way to hope and determination.

  Everyone agrees that a comprehensive picture of Papaldia will be created, and they need to utilize all resources to achieve that. The fight to protect their future begins here, and they will not let Papaldia dictate the game.

  "I understand," Lavrov says calmly, his eyes sparkling with determination. "Russia will increase investment to ensure support for Central Asian countries to overcome difficulties. We are also facing our own challenges, from unemployment to export difficulties. But I believe that by next year, everything will change."

  ...

  December 16, 2020/4017, Fourth Era.

  Papaldia Empire, Capital Estaurant, Velsai Palace.

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  On the glossy marble path in Velsai Palace, Feldor walks with pride. The grand statues of kings from the history of the Papaldia Empire stand tall along the walkway, like eternal guardians affirming the royal lineage. A sense of pride rises within him like a flame, making him feel as if he stands above all the lesser beings out there, those who dare only to look from afar.

  Today, an important meeting between the ministers and Emperor Phillip Antoine Valois D'Alembert will take place. This great leader, bearing noble blood, has transformed Papaldia into the dominant power of the civilized zone number 3, one of the three superpowers alongside the Mu Federation and the Milishial Holy Empire. All eyes are on him, awaiting important directives.

  What the Empire has achieved over the past few hundred years is a testament to its greatness. Feldor approaches the intricately carved large door, flanked by royal guards in dignified stances, holding gleaming swords like shining metal. These images are closely associated with the Empire's success in wars, both against enemies in the civilized zone and the barbarians outside.

  The door opens, and Feldor steps into the room where others are already present. A long stone table sits right at the entrance, and on the short steps is a stone platform where the emperor will sit. The attendees include:

  Minister of Defense: Louis-Charles Montfort

  Minister of the Interior: Antoine Lefebvre

  Minister of Finance: Estienne Fournier

  Minister of Industry: Jacques Moreau

  Feldor Delacroix, the Foreign Minister, arrives a bit late. His role is crucial in handling relations with the other two superpowers and the nations of the civilized zone. This job requires finesse and caution, and only those with real capability are entrusted with this task.

  As Feldor enters, the attention of the others turns to him. The Minister of Finance, Estienne Fournier, is the first to speak:

  "Delacroix, you're late."

  "Just a few minutes," Feldor replies nonchalantly, his gaze sharp. "You have no idea how packed my schedule is, Fournier."

  Estienne smirks mockingly: "Do you think your meaningless actions could make your position easily replaceable, like a piece of paper when there's no more room to write?"

  Feldor does not hesitate to retort: "I don't think the money you earn from the budget is as small as your heart."

  "Delacroix, you..." Estienne growls, but his words are cut off by a booming voice:

  "The emperor is entering!"

  The entire room falls silent. Emperor Phillip, dressed in luxurious attire that signifies supreme authority, steps into the room and takes his seat on the stone platform. Despite his youth, only about 25, Phillip has proven to be a strong leader, with a gaze sharp as a knife and a cold smile.

  "The Royal Conference officially begins," Phillip declares, his cold eyes sweeping over each person like a penetrating gaze.

  "Louis," he looks towards the Minister of Defense, "how is the army?"

  Louis-Charles Montfort bows his head to respond: "Your Majesty, thanks to your grace, our army is growing stronger. If this continues, the entire region will be in our hands, and Mu and Milishial will have to tremble."

  "Good," Phillip nods. "And Industry?"

  Jacques Moreau quickly speaks up: "Your Majesty, new factories are being built at a rapid pace. We estimate they will be completed in just a few weeks. However..." He hesitates, his expression worried.

  "What is it?" Phillip frowns, sensing the tension in the air.

  "We lack resources, Your Majesty. Too many resources have been allocated to the military. I believe we should reduce military spending to free up funds to expedite the projects."

  Moreau continues to speak, trembling at the emperor's potential reaction, as if every gaze from those around him weighs heavily on his shoulders.

  Phillip strokes his chin, pondering for a moment, his expression deepening in thought at the warnings. Finally, he speaks: "Indeed, you are right. So, Feldor... Is there any way to resolve this?"

  Feldor, as an experienced strategist, quickly responds, his voice decisive: "I have previously engaged with a nation called Russia. A vast country, rich in resources, accompanied by self-proclaimed Central Asian nations. They come from outside the civilized zone." Feldor's gaze radiates determination, but there is a hint of skepticism.

  Phillip shows excitement, his eyes lighting up like a flame: "Good... so what happened?"

  Feldor shakes his head, disappointment in his eyes as he recalls: "Unfortunately, they behaved like barbarians, refusing and resisting. However, since they had not taken excessive action at that time, I let them go and sent a monitoring team to ensure their compliance."

  Phillip raises an eyebrow, his voice as cold as ice: "So what was the outcome?"

  Feldor bows his head, his tone serious as thunder: "Since then, they have not responded."

  Phillip slams the table, angrily shouting like a storm: "Barbarians! Quickly punish them! Invade their land, bring their leaders here! Let them know the consequences of daring to oppose a superpower!"

  He turns to give orders, his tone filled with authority: "Louis, prepare an expedition immediately. Feldor, provide all necessary information to Louis. I want everything: resources, slaves, everything belongs to me!"

  The entire room erupts in a chorus of agreement like a mighty army: "Every decree you issue is a holy command, Your Majesty. For the Empire, for the Emperor!"

  After that, the meeting continues in seriousness. Issues are raised and quickly resolved in one direction: to maximize everything for the benefit of the Empire and the Emperor. Feldor listens quietly, his mind racing with thoughts.

  'How should I handle them now?' Feldor wonders. 'That old fool needs to be taught a lesson for daring to underestimate me. Yes, it will definitely be like that.'

  Feldor has been behind many wars for decades. The script always repeats: approach, greet, negotiate, make demands, and when refused, invade with the strongest army in the civilized zone number 3. Papaldia may have faced some formidable opponents, but that was centuries ago. Papaldia today, with a powerful industry and a modern-equipped army, has no one who can stand against it.

  Feldor cannot recall how many nations have been conquered, how many have become colonies of the Empire. But one thing is certain: Papaldia has never failed.

  With all those achievements, he does not believe that a rising northern nation like Russia can do anything. Lost in thought, he is suddenly pulled back to reality by the Emperor's voice.

  "The meeting ends here. Go back and dedicate everything to the Empire!"

  ...

  Later, when Feldor returns to his office. He sees his assistant standing there with a letter in hand. Before he can ask, the assistant speaks first.

  "This is an ultimatum from Russia."

  Feldor raises an eyebrow, clearly showing his displeasure. Those barbarians dare to send an ultimatum to this great Papaldia Empire?

  Feldor opens the letter, his cold gaze scanning each line. The content inside is not merely a threat, but a clear message of Russia's determination to protect its territory and interests. He feels a surge of anger rising within him; those barbarians have learned nothing from that day - just as barbarians often do - futilely resisting.

  "Do you know the specific content?" Feldor asks, his tone icy.

  "They want us to publicly apologize for the death of the diplomat and demand compensation for that individual."

  Feldor scoffs, feeling a wave of anger swell within him. "Apologize? Compensate? Who do they think they are? A powerful nation like Papaldia cannot bow before such weaklings!"

  The assistant, although accustomed to Feldor's emotional outbursts, cannot help but feel worried. "Your Excellency, but if we do not meet this demand, they may take more serious military actions. They have clearly shown that they are not afraid of our strength."

  "Military? More serious? Don't make me laugh. I, the Foreign Minister, will not yield to barbarians. For the pride of the Empire. I refuse everything in this scrap of paper!"

  Feldor tears the paper into shreds and throws them on the floor, as if wanting to erase all traces of the humiliation the letter brings. He feels a fierce anger, not only because of the threat from Russia but also due to the weakness he perceives from those around him. He cannot accept that Papaldia, a powerful empire, should bow to anyone, especially those he considers inferior.

  "Prepare a plan for me," Feldor says, his tone returning to calm but still resolute. "We will not only refuse this demand but also show them the true strength of Papaldia. I want a swift attack on their territory, an attack they will never forget."

  The assistant, though anxious, nods. "Your Excellency, but we need to prepare thoroughly. The Russian army should not be underestimated, and they may have already prepared for war."

  "Prepare? We don't have time for that," Feldor replies, his gaze sharp. "We will attack as soon as possible. Summon the generals and ministers; I need an emergency meeting."

  The assistant quickly leaves the room, leaving Feldor alone with his thoughts. He knows that this decision could lead to a large-scale war, but he cannot accept being underestimated. He has witnessed too many times the weak being crushed under the feet of the strong, and he does not want to become a part of that history.

  ...

  In an unspecified forest within the Papaldia Empire, amidst the darkness, wild creatures are enjoying their dinner. The rustling of leaves and the cries of wild animals create a natural symphony, while the dim moonlight filters through the dense canopy. There is a group of goblins, small creatures with pale gray skin, extremely fierce. They resemble orcs but are smaller and related to each other. Wherever there are goblins, there are sure to be orcs, and often there will be uruks, a species with black skin and denser fur than orcs, strong and vicious.

  Though they resemble humans in their thinking ability and shape, this makes them difficult to deal with, even for trained soldiers. However, for the Russian army or any other modern nation, they are merely weak prey. A Spetsnaz team is hiding in the bushes, fulfilling their assigned mission, ready to eliminate them.

  Rompev, positioned farthest behind, shows no signs of worry. He sees his teammates in position, everything seems ready. His face is serious, his eyes sharp as a knife, observing the surroundings. A gentle breeze blows, carrying the scent of damp earth and the breath of the ancient forest. Rompev sighs softly as he thinks about how this quiet forest is about to be stained with blood. He whispers slowly: "The Lord always welcomes you."

  Every smallest sound becomes significant in this moment of silence. Hearts are pounding, breaths are quickening, and the anxious anticipation of the decisive moment is drawing near.