The OP Lich is a Returnee, Chapter 187

Chapter 187 – Diplomatic?

“You certainly have a way with words, your Majesty.”

Naturally, my speech had ruffled a few feathers, what with my pointed statements towards Russia and especially towards the US. I knew that I was poking the bear, so to speak, but it was a calculated action. Sure, it was a near certainty that the President, egomaniacal manchild that he was, would take offense to such blatant and pointed disrespect, but I was not concerned in the slightest. There was little that the US could do to me and Risen Athelia, after all.

The once-mighty American fleets no longer had the run of the Pacific. Their bases in their territories were gone, and they had no allies across the Pacific. Other than a crude base in the Alaskan islands, they were confined to the coastal waters of the US, as Canada and Mexico closed their waters to American naval vessels, and they dared not venture out into deep water. And without bases to stage refueling planes from, any bombers trying to reach Athelian soil would be on a one-way trip, at best.

Save for their supply of intercontinental ballistic missiles, the only weapons that the US had which could touch my lands and my people were those that could be launched from submarines. My statement of total eradication for anyone who attacked using nuclear weapons worked as equal deterrent against both ICBMs and submarine-launched missiles, but nuclear weapons were not the full extent of a submarine’s arsenal.

There were two ways that the US could try and hurt me, without resorting in nuclear war, which would only result in my eventual victory, even if I reigned over ashes, gripping the souls of nations in my hands. The first, and less worrisome, was using submarines as a staging ground for special forces teams. I called them less worrisome because, despite the training and skills of mortal special forces teams, they simply did not have the capability of doing any serious damage to my new empire. Assassinations of some of the mortals in government would only lead to more of my administrators being put in place, and give me a reason to respond in kind. Meanwhile, anything sufficiently important, like power plants and major infrastructure, had wards preventing people with ill intent from easily accessing them, and I had diviners who could track down the source of any attacks that did manage to do damage, which would only result in that special forces team becoming part of my undead armies.

No, the only real way that the US submarines could hurt me is by engaging in the practice that submarines were originally designed for: commerce raiding and the sinking of ships. I wasn’t worried about my naval vessels, of course. They all had plenty of armor, as well as spells and enchantments to help ward off torpedoes. No, it was the merchant fleet that concerned me, at least somewhat. Yes, they had general wards on them, but those were more to rebuke monsters and pirates, not submarines. While there were self-repair enchantments on the hulls, they could only do so much, so quickly. A good shot with a torpedo would still sink one of the merchant vessels.

Of course, that would only encourage reprisals on my part, and likely would result in the EAA being brought in, as well, which wouldn’t serve anyone’s interests, really. Oh, some people would profit in the short term, but it would needlessly complicate even my long-term goals. Which, in the end, is why I had agreed to this meeting in my hotel suite, a couple hours after my speech to the UN.

Ambassador Kyle Grant was an almost painfully average-looking man. White, average build, average height, brown eyes, brown hair, average hairstyle, no visible tattoos. Even his clothes were average, being a grey suit and pants, black shoes, white shirt, and a navy tie. The one point of ‘individuality’ was an American-flag pin on his lapel, which was a painfully average thing for any American politician or diplomat to wear.

Of course, that average-ness was calculated. It was a ploy to make him seem nonthreatening, and approachable. Much like how an anglerfish held out a light in the ocean depths to attract prey. You could tell by how his diplomatic smile never reached his eyes.

I smiled back at him, having switched to my human form for this conversation. Just to toy with him a bit, I was wearing a replica of the school uniform I’d been wearing when we were summoned to the other world. As an undead, I had no sex drive, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t use all the tools in my toolkit, if appropriate.

“A simple truth learned from forty years of dealing with war and politics in the other world. Leaders who speak in polite, flowery diplomatic language almost always wish to be seen speaking on an issue rather than doing anything about an issue. They will talk and talk and talk and maybe something will get done, despite them, but they are primarily concerned with keeping the status quo or finding ways to profit from situations. Which is not to say that those who speak plainly are altruistic, by any means, or that they are more likely to actually accomplish something, but they do have solid ground to stand upon, if they act, and crucified against, if they do not. So, they tend to be the more proactive types, in my experience.”

“And you want to be one of the more proactive types.”

One of my ghoul servants stepped forward with a tray holding a pair of ochoko cups, and two tokkuris enchanted to keep the sake inside at the perfect temperature for hot sake. He set the drinks down on the table between the two chairs in the sitting area of the suite, and then stepped back. Just like a perfect servant.

I motioned for him to pour himself a drink, as I did the same. Of course, alcohol didn’t affect me, unless it was very specially made, but there was some symbolism, there, all the same. “I believe I have forty years of proving myself to be one of the more proactive types, though I do temper that with the ability to take the long view. Costs that would scare off those who have limited vision are more acceptable to me, if they serve the end goal.”

Ambassador Grant sipped his drink as his eyes bore into me. “And what goal is that? World domination?” My bursting out into laughter did not improve his mood. “Is this a joke you, Queen Akagawa?”

My tone was almost playful as I spoke. “Oh, kami, no. It is just that, if you seriously thought my goal was world domination, then you are either horrifically overestimating your country’s capabilities, or underestimating mine by orders of magnitude. Let me be perfectly clear, Ambassador Grant, if I wished to rule this world, it would already be mine. There is no government on Earth that could stop me. The only force that might possibly slow me down would be all the young Heroes working together, and even then, I would prevail.”

The man looked offended, but I cut him off with an upraised hand. “I was not lying when I said that my actions against the CIA headquarters was a show of restraint. If I chose to, I could go to the rooftop of this hotel, and, from there, cast a spell that would unleash a plague of undeath upon the land, covering the New York metropolitan area. Within that circle, every dead creature, whether they be in a morgue, a cemetery, roadkill, or the remains of deer long dead in the woods, would rise up as undead, and seek out the living. And every living soul who fell to them would rise again, as one of the horde.”

Grant stiffened, and said, “You’re talking about an undead apocalypse!”

“Yes, I am. And I could do this on my own, without even calling upon my legions. More importantly, I could do it again, and again, in different cities around the world. Make no mistake, Ambassador, the living exist in this world because I wish them to. If I wished to dominate the world, then the world would be an abattoir already, and the most all the armies in the world could do would be to slow the fall until I turned my attention to the pockets of resistance, and dealt with them personally.”

I sipped my drink, and said, “Understand that this is not a threat, Ambassador, but a clear statement of fact. Aside from literal gods, there is only one being in this world that I know of who can match or exceed my power. However, even looking upon that being without several layers of protection would rip your mind to shreds, for it is a being so alien that it is, quite literally, unbound by mortal concepts such as space and time. It is the definition of ‘eldritch horror’, and it cares not for the affairs of the mortals who are broken in mind and warped in body just from its presence.”

“You’re talking like you’ve met Cthulhu, or something.”

“Not Cthulhu, but one akin to the Great Old One.”

“So, you’re saying that the only threat to you in the world is a Lovecraftian nightmare?”

“Precisely,” I nodded, a pleasant smile on my face. “Oh, there are ways that other countries could work against me, even inconvenience me. Striking at the mortals I have under my banner, for example, or attempting some kind of economic or diplomatic shenanigans. They would not cripple me, and certainly wouldn’t be an existential threat, but they could prove to be serious annoyances.

“However,” I said, my tone getting more serious, “while I knew I would have to deal with such idiocy when I stepped forward to raise the banner of Risen Athelia in this world, that does not mean my patience for such antics is limitless. In fact, the more annoying a situation becomes, the more willing I am to simply take the souls of those causing the annoyance and use them as an object lesson on why antagonizing the Lich Queen is a foolish idea.”

I leaned forward, my eyes boring into his, as his had done to me earlier. “For instance, if the United States sets about this foolhardy notion of trying to ‘make Canada the fifty-first state’, or annexing the Panama Canal, then your government would be well advised to keep weapons of mass destruction off the field, even if they start to lose. And your submarines would be advised to avoid targeting merchant ships flagged to Risen Athelia or other members of the EAA. My patience for things like that is fleeting, at best.”

“The US has the strongest military in the world!”

“Had. You had the strongest military in the world. That title was lost the moment I returned from the other world, and it is only by my grace that I allowed anyone to think otherwise before now. Your magic is laughably behind, and without that, you would need weapons normally mounted on vehicles to have a prayer of taking down my foot soldiers, much less my knights, or any of the elite units.

“And that is just on the ground. The troubles at sea have done more than drive the Navy back to shore. Fuel shipments from the Middle East have been spotty, at best, have they not? How long do you think that your Air Force would be able to keep flying with the logistics chain falling apart? And do you really think that they would have bases to return to once they struck at my forces?”

I fixed my glare upon the ambassador, and said, “I understand that your president is a spoiled baby who is not used to people telling him no, but your country would be well served by reminding him that the United States is no longer a superpower. And I meant what I said in the General Assembly, Ambassador. Risen Athelia will not tolerate the use of nuclear weapons on civilians, and we will gladly welcome any state who seeks annexation, as Hawai’i, the Northern Marianas, Guam, and Athelian Samoa did. Something for you, and your president, to think on, especially considering his poll numbers on the west coast.”