Envoys

The massive gates of Meteor City creaked as they parted, allowing Uvogin, Franklin, and Phinx to pass through. Phinx, in his suit, was the natural leader, the iron fist of Haruto, tasked with conveying their intentions to the neighboring lands. The trio set their course to the south, headed for the Republic of Rokario, a nation known for its disregard for the supposed sovereignty of Meteor City.

"Another day of getting no respect," Uvogin grumbled, his massive frame dwarfing Phinx. The ground seemed to shudder beneath his heavy footfalls. Franklin, in contrast, remained eerily silent, his numerous piercings gleaming under the harsh desert sun.

Phinx, unflappable as ever, turned to his compatriots, a plan forming behind his sharp eyes. "Remember, our purpose here is to instill respect, not fear," he said, his voice stern, his gaze unwavering. He turned his back to the city they were leaving behind and stepped forward, the other two following suit.

The trio first headed north, stepping into the dry, hot plains of Yorbia. Their mere presence in the dusty land spurred disarray, but Phinx kept them moving, their destination a small, discreet airfield tucked away from prying eyes.

"A private flight, courtesy of Haruto," Phinx said, leading the way to a sleek, black aircraft waiting for them. Franklin nodded in quiet understanding, while Uvogin grumbled, his discomfort with flying evident in his grimace. Nevertheless, they embarked, setting a course for Rokario to the south.

Touching down in Rokario, they found themselves in an environment starkly contrasting Yorbia's. Lush green forests stretched out as far as the eye could see, and the locals, blissfully unaware of Meteor City's reputation, watched with curiosity as they disembarked.

In Rokario, the men were chauffeured in a luxurious limousine, the tinted windows reflecting the lush greenery of the land. The car was ostentatious, grandiose even, a statement of their arrival. Uvogin relaxed in the spaciousness, the grimace from the flight now replaced by a semblance of satisfaction.

Phinx, sitting rigidly, his mind already engaged in the diplomatic chess game they were about to play, shot him an exasperated glance. "Remember, we are not here for leisure," he muttered, scanning through a bundle of documents on the upcoming meeting. Franklin, to Phinx's immediate right, gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.

The drive was a cacophony of whispered strategies and unspoken expectations. Franklin's fingers tapped rhythmically on the polished mahogany paneling, his presence a ghostly specter of patience and readiness.

Upon reaching the capital, they were received by a pompous government official, his face creased with a forced smile. He was dressed in a stiff navy-blue suit, his graying hair perfectly styled. The forced pleasantries, the superficial handshake, everything about him screamed disingenuity.

"I must say, we do not often receive delegations from... places like Meteor City," the man said, his voice smooth yet laced with contempt. Phinx merely smiled at the thinly veiled insult. Uvogin's fists clenched, his gaze hardened, but he remained silent.

The trio were led through grand halls filled with the buzz of politicking. Emissaries from Mitene Union nations conversed in hushed tones, their gazes raking over the strange men from Meteor City. As they walked, the trio didn't miss a beat, their strides steady and unyielding.

Their arrival at the Rokarian parliament was announced in a bustling atrium, the great dome overhead echoing with the vibrancy of international politics. The emissaries from the Mitene Union nations stood in clusters, wearing expressions of thinly veiled disdain.

"The delegation from Meteor City, Your Excellencies," the official's voice rang out, and a hush descended, curiosity and skepticism intermingling in the silent air.

Phinx, leading the trio, took a moment to take in the assembly. His eyes met the gaze of each ambassador, assessing, evaluating. His mouth curled into a smile that was more of a challenge than a greeting.

"Welcome, representatives of Meteor City," the man at the podium, the President of Rokario, began. He was a tall man, with the greying temples and stern countenance that came with years of leadership. His voice was firm, but Phinx could detect an underlying tone of doubt. "You find yourselves in a peculiar situation, don't you?"

"Quite," Phinx responded, his voice cool and controlled. He didn't need to elaborate. The room was well aware of the "peculiar situation" - Haruto's claim to the throne of Meteor City was still largely unrecognized by the international community.

There was an uneasy murmur. Uvogin, hands clenched at his sides, glared around the room. "Seems like a lot of talk for people who have no idea," he muttered, a threatening undertone woven into his words.

"Indeed," Phinx responded without missing a beat, turning to face the room, his gaze sweeping over the assembly. "The world is evolving, and with it, so is Meteor City. You deny us our sovereignty, yet here we stand in your assembly. Doesn't that strike you as a paradox?"

A murmur swept across the room, whispers echoing off the grandiose marble walls. Franklin remained impassive, his gaze icy. His silence was as intimidating as Uvogin's threats and as calculated as Phinx's words.

From the corner of his eye, Phinx noticed the emissary from the Republic of East Gorteau, a young man with a sharp gaze and an even sharper tongue. The Gorteauan leaned in, a smirk on his lips, "Your 'king', Haruto, is what? Sixteen?"

Phinx laughed. A genuine, deep, hearty laugh that seemed to echo around the room. "Age is but a number," he replied, meeting the Gorteauan's gaze. "Haruto may be young, but he possesses the vision, the ambition that your seasoned leaders lack."

Uvogin's low growl of agreement rumbled through the quiet room, causing a few of the dignitaries to flinch. Franklin remained unmoving, his eyes merely flicking to each representative in turn. His silence, as always, was louder than any spoken threat.

The president cleared his throat. "We are not here to debate Meteor City's internal matters." His voice was shaky now, the assuredness fading. "We've gathered to discuss Meteor City's position in the international stage."

"Are you here for a diplomatic meeting or to threaten us?" An ambassador from the NGL asked, the sneer in his voice not quite masked by his seemingly polite enquiry.

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