That Time the USA Got Transported to Another World!

Chapter 8: The Vice President Negotiates with the King

After a few short, awkward minutes of walking, the President, Vice President, and King had all made their way towards the Senate; upon opening the humongous wooden door, a room filled with fifty or so people graced their presence. The men (old, with the exception of some young) all had stern faces, without a single ounce of joy showing. Perhaps it was because they had been called suddenly; nobody likes being called into work at random, even if you are a noble. Clearing his throat, the King said:

"My friends... Senators, Noble—"

"Get on with it already!" one of them shouted. Taken aback, the King tried to recollect himself; finally, he said:—

"With me today is the King of the Land of Warriors (alongside his second-in-command): Mr. President and Mr. Vice President." The stern faces—almost suddenly, morphed into shocked, bewildered expressions; he's got to be pulling my leg, they collectively thought. There's no hell in way... that—

"Greetings!" Alfred said; "I'm President Brown, the king of The Land of Warriors." He tried winking at James—unfortunately, it didn't grab his attention. Alfred thought of correcting them, but—in some selfish way, being referred to as king made him feel joyous; it reminded him of when he was a kid: when adults called you 'mister', it gave you immense satisfaction, didn't it?—and at Alfreds age, any remembrance of childhood felt magical! William II said,

"Please, don't stand around all day: there's a seat prepared for you two... come, make yourself comfortable." In the middle of the room stood two thrones: gold-carved masterpieces, complete with jewels and red, silky, cushioned seats. Quickly, they plopped down into the chairs; my God!—how amazing did they feel!—like sitting on a cloud. It must have been fine material, Alfred and James decided. The King sat down as well, and told them:—

"Now, in order of business, I'd like to ask you for a favour."

"And what would that be?" James asked.

"I'm sure you're aware of the prophecy?—the war that will soon break out across the continent?"

Alfred, with a stressed complexion, said: "Can't say I have."

"Well... to make a long story short: your nation was brought here by the gods; upon your arrival, a war will break out amongst the Trafane Continent." Some pagan nonsense is what I say!—thought Alfred.

"To accommodate this war," the King continued, "we ask you to lend us some of your men... if only a few; in return, we'll present you with whatever it is Mr. President desires." Alfred was about to spout something; but, before he could utter a single word, James stood up; he walked over to the King: with a swift motion, he clenched his meaty hand around William's face: the heat and roughness of his hand sent chills down the King's back.

"Wh—"

"I want you to give us one province inside your land—and I want to choose where. With that, I request a map of your nation (as to make the choice smoother). I will also offer a one month transition period, similar to that of Hong Kong."
What the hell is a 'Hong Kong'?—the King thought; however, his questions went unanswered, for James continued:—

"We'll have full right to extract whatever materials we want... you got that!" The King thought, dumbfounded: they had been so nice; why were they acting this way now?—yes, that's right! They really were tricking him! His hypothesis was right. However, he couldn't give away vital land! It would be humiliating to lose an entire province... no, if his empire wanted to survive at all, he needed to make sacrifices. Swallowing his pride—both figuratively and literally, he said,

"I'm sure our subjects would be honoured... and—we can get you a map as soon as possible! I'll hire the best cartographers in the land. Now, could you let go of my damn head?" James—reluctantly, let go, freeing the King from his grasp. "As long as you uphold your side of the deal (that being: sending over men, suggestively to the capital) we will give you as much land as you want."

James straightened his back, proud as can be!—however, Alfred... he was far, far less impressed; with a stern scowl upon his face, he said: "Excuse me, Your Majesty, could me and Mr. Vice President excuse ourselves for a moment?"

"I don't see why not," the King said. Hastily, Alfred shoved James outside the room.

The atmosphere was silent.

Nobody said a word.

After a few short minutes of this, one Senator broke the awkward silence, saying, "What was that? You just sold out our damn country?"

"It's the only option I had," the King said; "This is the Land of Warriors: we need to get some of their men if we want to survive the upcoming war; the empire will fall if they're the enemy."

"There won't be an empire if you continue with that line of thinking!"

***

Closing the wooden door, Alfred slightly turned his old head towards James; he said:—

"Why did you get up in his face?"

James replied, "It worked for Al Gore, so..." Alfred facepalmed.

"Al Gore lost that election!"

"Oh come on," James snarled; "Only because they kept recounting Florida."

"Didn't you support Bush..." Alfred paused: then, he grabbed James' tie and said: "This is no time to be arguing about the 2000 election!—more importantly: what were you thinking?—asking our only connection if we can colonize them?"

James stuttered. "I have a very good explanation—"

"Then say it."

"We've been relying on domestic materials for the last few days (now that China and our old allies are gone); that won't last forever. We'll eventually run out of materials. We need metal coil for phones—oil for cars (most of which we lost with Alaska) and not to mention more medicine will have to be made domestically. We don't have the rare materials to do that. Importing these items are important, and much more than before: given the technology of these people—it seems we're the sole manufacturers of cars, computers, etc.

"I didn't want to resort to it either... but in our current situation: getting more land is the only way we'll survive..." Alfred slowly let go of his tie.
He felt strange.

Like... he had just—well, it's hard to say for sure, but it sure made knots within his stomach.