64 Promise of a Letter
Aside from learning the intricate steps of the plot to make his companies collapse, he also found the latest move by the Imperial Senate.
His father, alongside the King of Bolivia, has decided to make the heir of the Empire's throne the Gran Duke of Venezuela. It is similar to how, in the future, the Next King of the United Kingdom would be the Prince of Wales, but instead of a prince, he would be a Grand Duke, almost like the position of Archduke in the Austrian Empire.
Either way, the position of the Grand Duchy cemented the house of 'Aragon' As the rulers of the Empire—the next emperor must first be the Grand Duke of Venezuela and so on.
"A bit dangerous to leave the biggest reservoir of oil in the hands of a deadbeat son in the future; I will change that." Felipe quickly shook his head; after all, he did not take Venezuela because he wanted to maintain the Empire's integrity; that was the last reason; the first main reason was their oil.
He needs to put Venezuela under his thumb, like really under his thumb, so much so they love him unconditionally; he needs to make Venezuela a Royalist state; in other words, he has to erase everything and start anew.
Before, he couldn't siege Venezuela; now, he has already done it; the Grand Duchy is beginning to be shaped like the rest of the Empire is being shaped. The most annoying part of the whole ordeal is that the Colombian Empire as a whole, at the beginning of everything, was rather poor; now, the core of the Empire is somewhat richer than the rest of the realm, especially Venezuela, which, unlike Bolivia or Peru, was integrated from the beginning! They just decided not to follow orders, to not enforce any Imperial Laws, and so on; now, they are the poorest region of them all.
--
"I, the Grand Duke of Venezuela, Crown Prince of the Colombian Empire and all of its realms, find you responsible for the crime of high treason and sentence you to death by firing squad," Felipe said as he read out loud the sentencing he made. There was no judge; there were no witnesses; there was no defence; there was nothing; it was just a sentencing by a royal member.
He, however, made sure to put enough evidence in the case he was presenting to the imperial government; after all, he might have had the power to kill whomever while he was in Venezuela for any reason but only because he was a dictator for the time being, he, however, was not in the rest of the Empire, that includes the land of the embassies.
And even though he has an unprecedented amount of power, he would really need evidence to support his abuse of power, or he might be subject to sanctions by the imperial senate.
All in all, Antonio was tied up to a wooden pole. His face was completely blackened due to physical trauma, and he had multiple bones broken; the sharp points of the bones could be seen through the skin, which was on the verge of breaking.
"…" The Traitor felt weird as he saw the soldiers prepare to shoot in synchrony. A week ago, he would have been terrified by such a sight, yet now he could not wait for it to come faster. His time as an empire official could only be described in a few words: a blessing.
Antonio looked to the sky, ignoring the pain that came with such effort and began to regret the saying he got the letter. Just like many, he was one person who never settled with the fact that they were getting a King after getting rid of one, and even though Felipe was born in Spain, he was known as the British Prince. When he first came to Colombia to discredit him—that never caught up, mostly because after a year, he executed everyone behind the scenes. Now, he only hoped that the person who put him on such a self-ending path would suffer the same fate he received.
He saw the free clouds of heaven and made peace with his maker as he heard the yell of a military commander for the firing squad to point their muskets.
PAH!
The smoke of Muskets covered the shooters as if they were in the middle of a heated battle, almost as if the smoke itself was preventing them from seeing the slaughtered body of a man who died for the crimes against their country and not for any immediate threat against the soldiers.
A command and they followed, a legal murder, nonetheless still a murder of a fellow man—a sin.
"He made peace with god… forgiveness is the norm and most difficult thing to do for a Christian… So be it… He shall be Committal and buried in the land." Felipe said as he thought for a while.
Felipe has grown senseless to the sight of death, yet he has not lost the way; he has not gone crazy. However, he knows something: he is to do everything for the Empire—it is above everything; he must keep the war machine going for the sake of a bigger idea than himself, the notion of a nation!
Felipe was already a bit tired of being in the USA; he had already done more than he planned, and his responsibilities were already done. He has even had correspondence with the editorials in New York; there was nothing he needed to do up there in New York; he could just go right to the UK.
He must sediment the type of deal for the Sewing Machine; nothing was set in stone, and the more he thought about it, the more urge he had to make a deal with the East Indies Company. He was rather mad that the British had sold their debt to a company, but he understood that money is money.
--
With no more business, Felipe just went to say goodbye, especially to the person who helped him overstay his visit to the young nation, yet older than the Empire.
"Your Excellency, it was a pleasure to meet you," Felipe said as he shook the President's hand.
"On the contrary, it was my pleasure to meet you, someone in the mouth of people worldwide and everyone in a while… your piece on the Islamic Invasion of holy cities is quite impressive; I pray that the European Nations wake up as you say." The President said as he referred to the latest editorial of his paper in New York City.
His articles were bold enough to make quite an impact in New York, which was rather impressive; after all, the number of shits and amount of people who have to care about what one person says and begin to actively discuss it is insane.
That was one of the reasons he didn't want to step into New York; he had always underestimated his popularity; after all, in the Empire, he is a cold killer—everyone fears him. Meanwhile, he is the closest thing a celebrity in the 1800s could be to the world.
If he could bring France and the rest of Europe to expulse the Ottomans from Europe, he would be doing the world a service, especially to himself; he wants to crown Constantinople!
His Royal houde is the true Hair of the Eastern Roman Empire, and he must have it! Forget the Colombian Empire, forget the African Empire; he was alive to take back the holy city by force.
Of course, that was his after, though, his desire, sorta speaking. He planned that he would suddenly leave everything just to pursue.
"A union in Europe would be a great win for the world. There would be some kind of peace… it would be short, but there would be one." Felipe laughed a bit, making the President laugh as well. "Hell would first freeze over before they agree on who the heir of the Roman Empire is."
They both laughed even more. Even in ancient times, history could be seen as something that men would unequivocally bond with.
That was one of the reasons why the President felt a sense of awe when talking to Felipe; after all, he knew that he was basically in front of a founding father of an Empire, might not be a European one, but still an empire with an absurd amount of land, and just like how he could see a rich future for the United States, he could see a rich future for the Colombian Empire. Two American powers dare to go alone, like two brothers who left their parents' house.
"Listen, about the matter of the French…"
"Please, I just mentioned it… I understand your position, and believe me, even my dear father is not truly convinced that I should ally myself with a nation of former slaves… But there is a method in madness… I have yet to fully see my method in my madness."
"Haha… Well, you spoke truth… I also don't like the notion of the French violating the Monroe Doctrine if it comes to it… I wouldn't mind creating a strong letter."
"That would mean a lot, especially knowing the growing divide between the south and the north."
"Ah… yeah… take it as my goodwill to Mauricio."
"I would normally say no… but I am afraid I will truly need your goodwill," Felipe said as he laughed and shook hands with a republican leader, the antithesis of his position—the Christ of every monarchy in the world. Yet, he was the only monarchy warm to the USA, making him special.
