PRESIDENT VALGOR'S POV
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President Valgor stood before the oval mirror in his dressing chamber, adjusting his ceremonial sash with trembling fingers.
He had worn this robe only once before — during his own inauguration.
And now, he wore it to welcome a man more powerful than himself.
Chris Blackwood was coming.
Not just sending aid. Not just watching from his throne.
He was coming — in person.
The staff were already in a frenzy. Red carpets being steam-cleaned. The Blackwood Empire's flag raised alongside Darnova's own. Security restructured. A massive escort parade organized within thirty minutes of the announcement.
Valgor turned as his aide burst into the room.
"Sir! Blackwood One's jet has crossed into our airspace. Estimated time of arrival — forty-three minutes."
Valgor nodded slowly, then whispered more to himself than to the aide:
"Make sure the golden staircase is rolled out. Nothing silver. Nothing less."
"Yes, sir."
He took a deep breath, then walked into the presidential chamber where the Darnova High Council was gathered. They all stood upon his entrance.
"Gentlemen," he began, straightening his shoulders, "today, history isn't just visiting us — it's evaluating us. Let's make sure we pass."
Murmurs of agreement echoed.
And as he stepped out toward the airfield, the presidential convoy already in formation, Valgor's heartbeat was no longer filled with fear.
It was filled with a single question:
What does a country become… after Blackwood visits?
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