Reincarnated with a Country Creation System

"Thank you, Your Excellency," Hans said, doing his best to maintain a steady voice, though the tension was palpable. "We are here on behalf of Prince Theodore of Triesenberg, who—"

"I am aware of why you're here," Alexander interrupted. "You are messengers of your empire. The empire that seeks to establish ties with Valoria. Well, I wonder why? Because after supporting the Matalebe tribes whose goal was to oust the Zambesi government, which is a country that we are supporting, Triesenberg suddenly wishes to extend a hand of diplomacy?"

"We don't have the answer ourselves. We are soldiers seving the Empire of Triesenberg and we act upon their will," Hans said.

Alexander paused, his gaze piercing through the mask as if he could see right through them. "Of course you do. You're merely instruments, tools in the hands of those who have no idea what they've unleashed," he said coldly. "But make no mistake—just because you're messengers does not mean you're free of responsibility. You represent an empire that has wronged Valoria."

Dieter shifted uncomfortably beside Hans, clearly sensing the tension thickening in the air. "We're not here to defend the past actions of our empire, Your Excellency," he said cautiously. "We're here to pave the way for a future where Triesenberg and Valoria can develop a mutual relationship, if that you would allow it."

"For a mere pilot, you sure know how to choose your words carefully," Alexander said, his voice sharp and calculated. His gaze lingered on Dieter, as though assessing whether the words were rehearsed or genuine.

"I had my fair share of representing my nation in situations like this. But this is the first time that I'm speaking to a person who holds such an exalted position," Dieter finished, his voice steady but respectful.

Alexander leaned back in his chair, studying the two pilots. His silence stretched on, making the air feel even heavier. Then, with a slow nod, he spoke. "How, exactly, does Triesenberg intend to communicate? Do they plan to send diplomats to Valoria? And if so, when will they come?"

Hans exchanged a quick glance with Dieter before answering carefully. "If Valoria agrees to open a dialogue, Your Excellency, Prince Theodore will send a diplomat to Valoria. The exact timing would depend on the outcome of this meeting. We are here to report back on your decision. Only then will they take the next steps."

"Okay…that is satisfactory for now," Alexander replied, his tone measured. He tapped his fingers on the armrest of his chair, clearly deep in thought. "You may return to your prince with my message, but understand this—when the diplomat arrives, they will do so on Valoria's terms, not Triesenberg's."

Hans nodded quickly, sensing that they were walking on thin ice. "Understood, Your Excellency. We will convey your conditions exactly as you have stated."

"Good."

Alexander rose to his feet and so did the two pilots. He extended his hand, offering a handshake. Hans was the first to step forward, taking Alexander's hand with a firm yet respectful grip, his eyes meeting Alexander's behind the mask. Dieter followed, mirroring the gesture.

"I'm sure to return to your territory, you would need fuel," Alexander said.

"We do indeed," Hans said, chuckling. "We are almost out of fuel."

Alexander tilted his head slightly, as if pondering something, then gave a curt nod. "Very well. Valoria will supply you with enough fuel to ensure your safe return. Consider it a gesture of goodwill—for now."

Hans and Dieter made their way back to the tarmac, where a Valorian fuel truck was already waiting for them. The large vehicle, manned by Valorian personnel in uniform, stood by their aircraft.

As they approached, one of the Valorian crew members, clipboard in hand, stepped forward to meet them.

"Your aircraft, gentlemen?" the crew member asked, looking between Hans and Dieter.

Hans pointed toward their fighter jets, and the crew member nodded before scribbling something on his clipboard. "And what fuel type does your aircraft require?" he asked, ready to instruct the fuel team.

"Gasoline," Hans replied, glancing at Dieter before continuing. "With a 91 octane rating."

The Valorian crewman paused for a second, raising an eyebrow before giving a curt nod. "Very well. We'll handle it."

The crew turned and began working swiftly, attaching hoses and monitoring gauges as the fuel began flowing into the aircraft. Hans and Dieter stood a few paces away, watching the process in silence.

"They also have a truck for fuel, huh?" Hans commented.

"Valoria is truly a country that can compete technologically and militarily against Triesenberg," Dieter replied.

"Still…they only defeated the Matalebe tribes. They are not even civilized so I don't think so yet that the Valoria might be able to compete against the superpowers," Hans continued, keeping his voice low as he watched the fuel crew work.

Dieter nodded thoughtfully, his eyes on the horizon. "True, but the fact that they have the resources, infrastructure, and discipline to handle such operations says a lot. We can't underestimate them."

"Still how could a country so isolated that popped out of nowhere could have such a technology and military capability?" Hans questioned, his brow furrowing in thought. "It doesn't make sense. A country like Valoria should've been on the radar long before now."

"That is indeed puzzling…"

"Your aircraft's fuel level is now full," said the Valorian crewman, stepping back from the aircraft.

Hans nodded in acknowledgment, turning to Dieter with a serious expression. "Let's get out of here. We have a lot to report back to the prince."

Dieter glanced once more at the Valorian airbase. "Agreed."

Hans and Dieter climbed into the cockpits of their respective fighter jets, securing themselves in their seats and powering up the systems. The familiar hum of the engines starting up filled the air as the instrument panels flickered to life.

Hans reached for his communication headset, adjusting it before speaking into the mic. "Valorian Tower, this is Triesenberg One, requesting clearance for taxi and departure."

A brief pause followed before the response came through. "Triesenberg One, Valorian Tower. You are cleared for taxi to Runway 04. Maintain current heading and hold short of the runway for further instructions. Report ready for takeoff."

"Copy that, Tower. Taxiing to Runway 04, will hold short. Triesenberg One out." Hans released the comm button, signaling Dieter in the other jet.

Both aircraft began to move, their wheels rolling across the tarmac as they headed toward the designated runway. The steady roar of the engines and the gleaming Valorian airbase stretched out before them. Hans couldn't help but glance toward the distant control tower as they taxied, still mulling over the conversation with the leader of Valoria.

Once they reached the holding point, Hans keyed the mic again. "Valorian Tower, Triesenberg One holding short of Runway 04, ready for takeoff."

"Triesenberg One, you are cleared for immediate takeoff. Maintain heading of 090 degrees once airborne, climb to 10,000 feet. Contact departure control on 125.75. Safe journey."

"Roger, Tower. Cleared for immediate takeoff, heading 090, climb to 10,000 feet. Switching to departure on 125.75. Triesenberg One, out."
Experience more on m-v|l e'm,p| y r

Hans gave a quick thumbs-up to Dieter as he pushed the throttle forward, the propeller in front

of the jet roared to life, and the aircraft surged ahead with powerful acceleration. Dieter followed closely behind, both jets speeding down the runway, their wheels bouncing briefly as they gained speed. Within seconds, they lifted off the ground, the Valorian airbase shrinking below them as they climbed into the sky.

"Triesenberg One, airborne," Hans said calmly over the radio, feeling the familiar sense of freedom that came with taking to the skies. He adjusted the controls, steadying the aircraft as it reached its climb rate.

"Triesenberg Two, airborne," Dieter echoed, maintaining formation just behind Hans.

"Valorian Tower to Triesenberg One and Two, radar contact confirmed. Maintain heading 090, climb to 10,000 feet. Contact departure on 125.75," the controller's voice came through with a professional tone.

"Copy that, Tower. Switching to departure frequency. Triesenberg One, out," Hans responded. He tuned into the departure control frequency and keyed the mic. "Valorian Departure, Triesenberg One, climbing through 5,000 feet for 10,000, heading 090."

"Triesenberg One, Valorian Departure. Radar contact established. Maintain heading 090. Continue climb to 10,000 feet. You are cleared to leave Valorian airspace."

Hans acknowledged the instructions, checking his instruments as he continued the climb. Dieter's voice came through the radio again.

"Let's return."

***

A day later, the two pilots were in Votswana, Gaborone.

Hans and Dieter, now dressed in their formal Triesenberg military uniforms, sat in a quiet briefing room awaiting further instructions.

Five minutes later,

The door to the briefing room opened, and in walked a senior official from Triesenberg, Lord Reginald.

"Gentlemen, you are about to meet His Highness, Theodore Triesenberg. You are to report to him directly about your findings," Lord Reginald. The Prince has been briefed on the basics, but he expects a detailed report from both of you regarding the situation in Valoria."

Hans and Dieter exchanged a glance before Hans spoke. "Understood, sir. We are ready to present our findings."

Reginald nodded and gestured for them to follow. "Good. Let's not keep His Highness waiting."

The three of them exited the briefing room and made their way down a long corridor adorned with the Triesenberg royal insignia. As they approached a set of ornate double doors, two guards in formal attire opened them, revealing a grand chamber with a large table in the center.

Seated at the head of the table was Prince Theodore of Triesenberg, dressed in a tailored military uniform, his sharp features giving away nothing.

"Your Highness," Lord Reginald announced, bowing slightly as he entered the room, followed by Hans and Dieter.

The prince stood up and gave a measured nod. "Now…report."