Princess Ephra lounged comfortably on her father's red velvet throne, ready to officiate the day's audiences. In the antechambers, petitioners waited in line, eager to meet the princess and convince her to support their cause. During the years since her father groomed her to the task, Ephra has been asked to help with many things; but the one thing that the people seemed to ask for the most was the changing of one of her father's many unpopular policies.

 

Ephra loved her father, but she was growing tired of his mistreatment of their citizens; not that she had any compassion for the riffraff herself. Nonetheless, she knew that a happy and content population was crucial to the safety and security of the Jhalen empire, or more specifically, the safety and security of the Jhalen emperor and his only daughter.

 

Fortunately, Ephra is especially good at keeping the citizens happy. She has a genuine talent for it. When she stares into someone's eyes, she can convince them of just about anything she desires, and she uses this ability to convince the populace that things are pretty good for them. Her talent is a psionic ability discovered by her father when she was a young girl, and he helped her perfect its use to the point that a look and a strong emotional desire are all that are needed to perform the subtle but effective manipulation of a person's emotions. What better talent could there be for an already spoiled princess?

 

Ephra nodded to the chamberlain, who bowed in return and then called out that the first petitioner should be allowed to enter. The doors slid open with a hiss of compressed air, and a small figure entered, flanked by an escort of two guards.

 

“Arturan, Ambassador for the planet Furellian,” the chamberlain announced.

 

“How may the empire serve you, ambassador?” the princess said.

 

The figure approached the dais and gave a deep bow. “Your highness, I have the unfortunate task of requesting that our current production levels of iron be lowered.”

 

“Of course, ambassador,” Ephra said. "We are sorry if the current production levels are a burden, we will lower it at once.”

 

“Thank you, your highness,” Arturan replied, “I see the stories of your generosity have not been exaggerated.”

 

Ephra smiled and then fixed her gaze on the ambassador with a pout, “Of course, a lower production level would result in layoffs across the empire,” she said, pushing the emotional need to please her into Arturan’s mind.

 

The ambassador returned her gaze, unable to look away. “That would be regrettable,” he said, mesmerized by her stare.

 

“If only there was something we could do,” Ephra said, “Do you have any ideas?”

 

The Ambassador blinked, and then drew in an excited breath, “I do! I do have an idea, your highness!” he blurted out.

 

“Oh?” Ephra said, with a hint of a smile.

 

“What if we increase our production by another two percent?”

 

“No ambassador, we couldn't possibly ask you to do such a thing,” Ephra said. “Didn't you just say that the current rate was already a burden?”

 

“I’m certain we could manage it, your highness,” Arturan said, wanting only to please the princess.

 

“No, the rate will be dropped, and that is my command,” Ephra said, now just playing with him.

 

The ambassador’s face paled at her announcement, and he fell to his knees. “Your highness, I beg you to reconsider, please let us serve the empire.”

 

“Is this truly what you wish? Ephra said.

 

“It is,” Arturan affirmed with a hearty childlike nod.

 

“Very well then, we will ask that Furellian increase its iron production by two percent, though it pains us to do so.”

 

“Thank you, your highness,” The ambassador said beaming; he stood up and saluted, “For the Empire!”

 

Ephra helped another twelve petitioners find joy in serving the empire before calling for the end of the day's audiences. She had just stood up to leave when she heard a commotion from within the antechamber. A moment later a solitary figure burst through the door dressed in a hooded black robe, his face hidden behind a shiny black mask. Guards at once formed a line, drawing their plasma pistols and activating their energy shields.

 

“Who are you and what do you want?” Ephra demanded.

 

“I am called Urtux, and I am authorized to speak on behalf of the empire of Aethyn,” The shadowy figure said.

 

“Aethyn? I am not familiar with this name,” Ephra lied, pushing out an emotion of calmness.

 

“That is surprising, considering the armada that you have at our border!” Urtux barked, pointing an accusing finger at the princess.

 

Ephra’s eyes widened at the outburst, confused as to why her emotional manipulations seemed ineffective.

 

She drew deeper upon her power and pushed out a more intense feeling of calmness. “I assure you this cannot be, “Ephra said, “The empire of Jhalen only desires peace.”

 

“Lies!” Shouted Urtux, “Your ‘peace’ threatens to invade our empire even as we speak. I am here to warn you that you must change this course of action right now or suffer the consequences of your aggression.”

 

Panic welled inside Ephra. She tried to calm Urtux but for some reason could not. Not having control was new.

 

"Urtux, I understand your concerns,” Ephra said, “but I can assure you that we do not have plans to invade your empire. Our goal is only to promote peace and stability throughout the region.”

 

“And still you lie," Urtux said, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Very well, then you leave us no choice.”

 

Ephra watched wide-eyed as the mask under Urtux’s hood swung open revealing not a face, but a space filled with wires and electronics. Centered within the cluster of wires was a small digital display.

 

Ephra gasped as she realized the numbers were counting down.

 

3

 

2

 

1