Funkadelia
TNPer
- TNP Nation
- Funkadelia Island
"You know, you're getting old, dear. It's not good to keep using that thing."
The aging king sighed, releasing all of the smoke from his lungs. He put his hookah hose down on the end table next to the ornate couch that he was sitting in. He turned to his just-as-old queen with a stern but loving look. He sat up in his chair.
"Makeda, please. I have been smoking this thing for as long as you or I can remember, and I've been fine. You really ought to sto-"
Menelik was cut short by the sounds of his chamber doors being thrown open. He swung his head around to see a rather young functionary bursting into his room.
"Dagmawi! [note]A formal way of addressing the King directly.[/note] You must come with me immediately! There is an urgent matter at hand!"
Menelik opened his mouth slightly as if he was about to say something, but opted instead to simply glare menacingly at the young man. He laid himself prostrate before the king. "Oh, please accept my deepest apologies for intruding upon your privacy, Dagmawi. I was sent by the Minister of Defense on an urgent matter."
The king motioned slightly with his hand with a tinge of disdain about the entire situation in front of him, prompting the young man to stand.
Menelik started: "Well... alright. I'm not sure why you couldn't have just called my secretary about this..." The old king grunted as he struggled to get up, but manged to do so slowly using the arm of the sofa as a support.
He shuffled down the long, decorated hallway toward the Amhrat Room where his younger brother & Minister of Defense, Salim Begwena, and the head of the Royal Police Force, Emanuel Botachew were already waiting for him. As he walked in, the everyone in the room stood. He motioned with his hand for them to return to their seats, and they did so. THe king grunted again as he sat down, and looked at his company for a moment. "Well? What is this all about?"
"My brother," Salim began, "we have a bit of an issue in Amharia. Those Popular Front people are continuing to stockpile firearms. Our intelligence shows that they have been purchasing high amounts of small arms and ammunition. Certainly, with a group with aims like the Popular Front, any movement of arms is concerning. However, we have some... suspicions as to how they could be getting their hands on them."
"Well?" Menelik asked impatiently. He just wanted to get back to the hookah that was probably burning away without anyone to smoke it.
Commander Botachew, clearly upset with how roundabout his Defense counterpart was being, interjected. "Look, Dagmawi, here's our concern. We know about a stockpile in Amharia, but it's almost entirely made up of I-19s, manufactured exclusively in Saint Oz. Now, do we have any proof that they're coming straight from Saint Oz? No, we don't. But given the political leanings of the clowns organizing in Amharia and here in Aksum, and the way the Saint Oz government operates, we must consider the prospect of outside interference in our own affairs."
Menelik sat, staring down at the table. He looked up after a moment and spoke to Botachew. "I have a hard time believing that one. Saint Oz and Funkadelia have been nothing but friendly, and our recent entrance into the Kian Union only reinforces that. Saint Oz manufactures a lot of weapons. It must be someone else just selling their weapons out of convenience."
Botachew flashed with anger for a moment, but recollected himself and responded. "Your highness, I cannot stress how important it is to consider all possibilities at this stage, with the means and numbers of the Popular Front growing. This could end up becoming a serious problem for us."
"I hear you, Emanuel, but we ought to consider the more realistic options first. Carry out the arrests tonight. I can't have a bunch of hooligans running around with loaded weapons doing whatever they please.", the king replied calmly.
With that Menelik forced himself up and took a step toward the door that he entered in. He stopped for a moment, then turned around to the two men still sitting in their chairs at the conference table. "You know, this family has been the protector of Funkadelia since the fall of the Kian Empire. That stands for something amongst Funkadelians, no matter what changes have come to our culture in the meantime. You all ought to have a little faith this Empire of ours that is going to stand for, at the very least, a few hundred more years. Don't forget how long I've been in the neighborhood." He said this as he looked directly at Commander Botachew. "I know what I'm doing around here."
Menelik turned around and restarted his walk out of the room, leaving the two officials in the Amhrat room and the young page in the hallway outside the room as he shuffled back into his personal chambers. He fell back into his sofa, and went to take another pull at his hookah. He didn't feel anything filling his lungs, and the water inside bubbled as he sucked on the hose.
Dissapointed, he looked down. The coal had burnt out.
The aging king sighed, releasing all of the smoke from his lungs. He put his hookah hose down on the end table next to the ornate couch that he was sitting in. He turned to his just-as-old queen with a stern but loving look. He sat up in his chair.
"Makeda, please. I have been smoking this thing for as long as you or I can remember, and I've been fine. You really ought to sto-"
Menelik was cut short by the sounds of his chamber doors being thrown open. He swung his head around to see a rather young functionary bursting into his room.
"Dagmawi! [note]A formal way of addressing the King directly.[/note] You must come with me immediately! There is an urgent matter at hand!"
Menelik opened his mouth slightly as if he was about to say something, but opted instead to simply glare menacingly at the young man. He laid himself prostrate before the king. "Oh, please accept my deepest apologies for intruding upon your privacy, Dagmawi. I was sent by the Minister of Defense on an urgent matter."
The king motioned slightly with his hand with a tinge of disdain about the entire situation in front of him, prompting the young man to stand.
Menelik started: "Well... alright. I'm not sure why you couldn't have just called my secretary about this..." The old king grunted as he struggled to get up, but manged to do so slowly using the arm of the sofa as a support.
He shuffled down the long, decorated hallway toward the Amhrat Room where his younger brother & Minister of Defense, Salim Begwena, and the head of the Royal Police Force, Emanuel Botachew were already waiting for him. As he walked in, the everyone in the room stood. He motioned with his hand for them to return to their seats, and they did so. THe king grunted again as he sat down, and looked at his company for a moment. "Well? What is this all about?"
"My brother," Salim began, "we have a bit of an issue in Amharia. Those Popular Front people are continuing to stockpile firearms. Our intelligence shows that they have been purchasing high amounts of small arms and ammunition. Certainly, with a group with aims like the Popular Front, any movement of arms is concerning. However, we have some... suspicions as to how they could be getting their hands on them."
"Well?" Menelik asked impatiently. He just wanted to get back to the hookah that was probably burning away without anyone to smoke it.
Commander Botachew, clearly upset with how roundabout his Defense counterpart was being, interjected. "Look, Dagmawi, here's our concern. We know about a stockpile in Amharia, but it's almost entirely made up of I-19s, manufactured exclusively in Saint Oz. Now, do we have any proof that they're coming straight from Saint Oz? No, we don't. But given the political leanings of the clowns organizing in Amharia and here in Aksum, and the way the Saint Oz government operates, we must consider the prospect of outside interference in our own affairs."
Menelik sat, staring down at the table. He looked up after a moment and spoke to Botachew. "I have a hard time believing that one. Saint Oz and Funkadelia have been nothing but friendly, and our recent entrance into the Kian Union only reinforces that. Saint Oz manufactures a lot of weapons. It must be someone else just selling their weapons out of convenience."
Botachew flashed with anger for a moment, but recollected himself and responded. "Your highness, I cannot stress how important it is to consider all possibilities at this stage, with the means and numbers of the Popular Front growing. This could end up becoming a serious problem for us."
"I hear you, Emanuel, but we ought to consider the more realistic options first. Carry out the arrests tonight. I can't have a bunch of hooligans running around with loaded weapons doing whatever they please.", the king replied calmly.
With that Menelik forced himself up and took a step toward the door that he entered in. He stopped for a moment, then turned around to the two men still sitting in their chairs at the conference table. "You know, this family has been the protector of Funkadelia since the fall of the Kian Empire. That stands for something amongst Funkadelians, no matter what changes have come to our culture in the meantime. You all ought to have a little faith this Empire of ours that is going to stand for, at the very least, a few hundred more years. Don't forget how long I've been in the neighborhood." He said this as he looked directly at Commander Botachew. "I know what I'm doing around here."
Menelik turned around and restarted his walk out of the room, leaving the two officials in the Amhrat room and the young page in the hallway outside the room as he shuffled back into his personal chambers. He fell back into his sofa, and went to take another pull at his hookah. He didn't feel anything filling his lungs, and the water inside bubbled as he sucked on the hose.
Dissapointed, he looked down. The coal had burnt out.