War? What was it good for? Absolutely nothing.

“Huh.” the emperor snorted, after reading a report of troop buildup near the borders of the empire. Apparently the Higands were preparing a massive attack, with the intent of crippling several of the homeland’s vital port cities.

Xaven always had a particular dislike for the Kingdom of Higand. Your classical monarchy, which a very long line of paranoid and imperialistic kings. It was if war and civil unrest were the things they knew how to do with any efficiency. They never waged war with the intent to occupy or destroy, but to paralyze a nation’s economy, dragging the country’s status down to their level, where they could fight a more even-leveled war later. They had attacked almost every country around them with the exception of Ezalania, because even the most bloodthirsty of kings knew that it was basically suicide to charge across a border guarded by Steam Mages and Clockwork Knights.

Of course, that all turns out for naught a massive network of spies deactivates the knights and kills most of the mages guarding that portion of the border.

The war room was like a bee hive on sugar; everyone was either a buzz or a generator of strung-together reports of locations of troops. When were they going to attack? How should they respond to this threat? What if the attack by the Higands were successful? As this hum of information peaked and bottomed, the emperor took notice that many of the officers were giving him brief, nervous glances. As they did, he would often hear a remark about ‘that incident’ or ‘His majesty’s temperament’.

So he had punched King Higand XXI in the face he had broken several laws and claimed diplomatic immunity. That was years ago!

General Diland, one of his newest high generals, had strode up to him and saluted. The emperor gave no acknowledgement for a few second, but small exchange in eye contact let the commander know that he was listening. The emperor trusted Diland’s news to be important enough that everyone in the room should know, and gave a sharp whistle. All activity ground to a halt, as he pointed one finger at him. The general nodded, cleared his throat, and began describing the grim situation.

“As you are all aware, Four days ago we had received news that the Higand Kingdom was mounting a massive expeditionary force, with the implied intent of attacking the nearest vital cities of our empire. Unconfirmed reports put their numbers at around 60,000.”

The silence in the room was absolute. Any small shuffle, cough, or skittering of an insect was clouded by a shroud of dread that was had caked itself on the air inside that room. It continued for what seemed like a millennia, when one word was spoken, by the emperor:

“Damn.”

Diland took this as a cue to continue,

“Now, the Higand haven’t attacked, yet, and we still have time to react. The High Command has suggested two courses of action: One, we launch an attack on several of Higand's key trade cities, with a combination of the Golden Navy and the 5th Legion's clockwork and steam infantry. Two, we launch a sneak attack on Higand's capital. We overpower the local garrison, and sue for peace. Risky, but it would cause much less bloodshed."

The lord of the pessimists’ face developed a sly grin. “What? I can’t storm across the border and beat them to death with my own fists?”

Some weak chuckling floated about the room.

“No, we want to stop them, sir, not outright annihilate him.” Xaven liked this guy. He had a sense of humor, and the general up with him far more than most people ever would. “Sir, what is your decision?”

A pause. The emperor looked down, nodded his head, and held out his hand. He held out two fingers, and the room exploded into activity once more. The general began barking orders, setting up preparations for the attack. One hundred landing boats, the finest marksmen they could find, and their most decorated captains. The amphibious assault was expected to begin in three days.

Which was good, since the general had just been handed another report that the closest city to the border was under siege.

The Higand capital was in flames. The 5th, along with a small collection of their finest-tuned clock knights and siege weapons, had caught the entire city by surprise, blowing a hole in the outer wall and swarming the local guard. With just a day’s fighting, they had surrounded the castle, effectively turning the despot into a hostage. The bulk of Higand’s army was too far away to return to the capital, and the empire’s army was too well-entrenched to allow smaller forces to repel them. The main army’s command quickly fell apart when they learned of the king’s capture, and the empire’s 1st Legion surrounded and forced their surrender.

The war had ended two weeks after it began. The historians were already calling it the “Two Week War”, the commoners and middle-class were calling it “That trouble over in the West,” the nobles had named it the “Facepunch War,” and the emperor himself was christening it the “3% of a Year War.”

The surrender ceremony was today. The regal cynic had opted to wear a bright red cloak over his normal clothes that day, to stand out, and to just annoy Higand XXI, as he was signing the surrender treaty. As he had just finished tying the cloak, a butler alerted him that the king was in the main chamber, ready to sign the paper.

Leaving his wardrobe room, he practically skipped to the main hall. Out of character, most definitely, but it wasn’t every day that he got to personally humiliate some he hated. Well, hated more than usual. Weaving the maze of corners and stairs, he came upon a very surreal site: A table, with two chairs, surrounded by a huge crowd of nobles and military personnel. Higand was already seated in one, looking none too happy.

With a spring in his limp, Xaven XIII walked over and took a seat. As soon as he had pulled the chair in, Diland walked over with the surrender document, and two quills. He placed the two quills on the opposite ends of the table, and began reading, aloud, the treaty:

The King and his subsequent Hierarchy, High Kingdom of Higand, hereafter referred to as Party A, hereby accept the demands and proclamations of the High Command of Ezalania, hereby referred to as Party B.

Party A’s demands are as follows:

1.) Safe passage of the main expeditionary force to the homeland

Party B’s demands are as follows:

1.) A payment of fifteen thousand gold pieces a year, seven thousand sliver pieces, and one hundred tons of iron for the next ten years

2.) Party A may not raise an army larger than 5,000 at any given time for the next forty years

3.) Acceptance of occupation for the next ten years, with a garrison to be left in the capital for the next twenty years

4.) Resignation of the leading generals of Party A’s army.

SIGNED,

Xaven and Higand both scribbled their names upon the paper, sealing the fate of the king’s war-mongering for quite some time. However, the tyrant wasn’t out of this quite yet. He had one more obligation to fill, and the emperor was more than glad to remind him of it.

“Forgetting something, your majesty?” Xaven chimed in, smiling. Before coming to the main hall, he had the king pulled aside as to make one, final demand: A proclamation by the king of his true character.

“…I’m a pretty little girl.”