Season 2 chapter 20
The Encrypted Arvonian Summons
Kniya's eyes widened as he read the golden, embossed heading at the top of the heavy parchment.
FROM THE DEPARTMENT OF ENERGY, REPUBLIC OF ARVONIA. TO: THE CHAIRMEN OF MALESH ENERGY LIMITED AND KAVILSON STEEL.
"Arvonia?" Kniya breathed, looking up at Malesh in absolute shock. "Arvonia?! That's halfway across the globe. They are the biggest manufacturing superpower on the planet. We don't have any operations on their continent. Why the fuck are they writing to me too?"
"Read the rest," Malesh said, his voice entirely devoid of its usual arrogant edge. He was staring intensely at the wax seal.
Kniya looked back down at the letter. The wording was strange—highly formal, but loaded with hidden implications.
Gentlemen. The sudden collapse of the Novan Haluvik foundries and the unprecedented price drop of eastern grid crude has drawn the immediate attention of the Arvonian Senate. While your true extraction capacities and internal ledgers remain remarkably obfuscated from our intelligence networks, your physical impact on the continental supply chain is undeniable.
The Republic of Arvonia is currently initiating the early stages of 'The Grand Directive.' The legacy trade routes and the aristocratic energy barons are rapidly becoming obsolete to our needs. Our industrial sectors require a volume of structural steel and processed diesel that your Republic cannot comprehend. We do not wish to negotiate with middlemen. We want to secure the absolute ceiling of your production capabilities for an exclusive, sovereign-backed trade alliance. The scale of this contract will render your current domestic monopolies trivial.
A diplomatic Arvonian heavy-propeller transport plane has been cleared for international flight. It will land at the Seistain private airstrip at midnight on the 18th. You are officially invited to board and fly directly to our capital to negotiate this deal in person. Do not keep the Senate waiting.
Kniya slowly lowered the paper. The playful energy of the pillow fight was completely dead. He read the cryptic phrases again. The Grand Directive. Obfuscated intelligence. Sovereign-backed alliance. "What the fuck is 'The Grand Directive'?" Kniya muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. "And they are sending a literal federal airplane to our city just to pick us up? Bro, this isn't just a business meeting. They are talking about funding an industrial war machine."
Malesh pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His brain was already running millions of calculations per second.
"They don't know exactly how much oil I have," Malesh whispered, a dark, calculating glint returning to his eyes. "They just know I crashed the market. But if their manufacturing sector is as large as the rumors say, and they want Kavilson Steel to reinforce it..."
Malesh looked up at Kniya.
"I guess you don't have to worry about paying me five million credits anymore," Malesh said softly. "Because if we board that flight, we are going to extort the biggest manufacturing empire on Earth for trillions."
The Cost of a Government
Kniya was still staring at the Arvonian letter, his mind racing with the geopolitical implications, when Malesh cleared his throat.
"But before we begin packing," Malesh said, slipping his hands into his pockets, "I want to clarify one minor detail regarding my financial accounts. That ten million credits I spent yesterday? It did not just cover the tactical guards."
Kniya looked up, raising an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"
"It included the briberies to the top officials. To the audit committee. To the entire fucking department," Malesh stated flatly. "I just bought the entire Department of Commerce with that amount. Do you have any idea how cheap it is to buy a Republic's loyalty? It is practically a bargain."
Kniya scoffed, tossing the letter onto the coffee table. "So whatever. Good for you. I am still not going to pay you five million for that."
Malesh didn't blink. "Very well. Then I am going to just wipe five million credits out of your personal Kavilson bank accounts without telling you."
Kniya's eyes flared. "Don't you fucking dare do that."
"I can," Malesh said coldly, stepping forward. "And absolutely nobody in your cybersecurity division would be able to stop me."
They stared at each other for three agonizing seconds. Kniya knew Malesh wasn't bluffing. The guy could dismantle a banking firewall in his sleep.
"Oh, fuck," Kniya groaned, rubbing his temples in defeat. He marched over to his suit jacket, pulled out his checkbook, and aggressively scribbled his signature. He ripped the paper out and shoved it hard against Malesh's chest. "Here is the check. Take the fucking money, you absolute cheapskate. You are the biggest miser I have ever met in my entire life."
Malesh calmly folded the five-million-credit check and placed it in his vest pocket. "Pleasure doing business with you. Now, we have exactly four days to prepare."
The 64-Hour Haul
Today was Sunday, the 14th. That gave them just under ninety-six hours to set up autonomous directives for their companies, pack their bespoke suits, and review everything they could find on Arvonian manufacturing laws.
When midnight of the 18th finally arrived, a massive shadow blotted out the moon over the Seistain private airstrip. It was an Arvonian heavy-propeller commercial transport plane—a terrifying beast of riveted steel, roaring diesel engines, and thick armored glass.
The journey was brutal. Arvonia was located on an entirely different continent, separated by vast oceans and mountain ranges. It wasn't a luxury trip. For more than sixty-four hours, Kniya and Malesh lived inside the vibrating, deafening belly of the aircraft.
Because the heavy plane burned through diesel at a massive rate, they couldn't fly direct. They made three separate stops in completely unnamed, dusty foreign countries just to refuel. The routine was exhausting: the plane would land on a dirt runway in the middle of nowhere, local crews would pump heavy fuel into the wings, and Kniya and Malesh would step out to eat whatever strange, spiced local lunch was available at the airstrips before boarding again. Nighttimes were spent sleeping on vibrating, leather-strapped cots inside the cabin, listening to the relentless roar of the propellers.
Arvonian Soil and The Angry VP
By the time the plane's heavy tires finally slammed onto the pristine concrete runways of the Arvonian capital, Kniya and Malesh were deeply sleep-deprived but running on pure adrenaline.
Arvonia was a mechanical marvel. Out the window, Kniya could see thousands of massive smokestacks, highly organized train yards, and a mechanized skyline that made their home country look like a primitive village.
As they stepped off the tarmac, they were immediately greeted by a highly decorated Arvonian diplomatic official flanked by elite military guards.
"Welcome to the Republic of Arvonia, Chairmen," the official bowed stiffly. "Your journey has been long. Before we proceed to the Ministry, the Senate insists you are treated to our finest hospitality."
They were escorted in a sleek, armored steam-car to a wildly expensive, high-end restaurant in the diplomatic district. The architecture was imposing, all black marble and brass. They had just finished their first course of high-grade steak when a terrified-looking waiter approached their table, carrying a heavy, corded military radio-telephone on a silver tray.
"M-Mr. Kniya?" the waiter stammered. "You have a priority international wire-call. It was routed through the embassy. The woman on the line is... she is very angry, sir."
Kniya frowned, taking the heavy brass receiver. "Hello?"
"KNIYA!" Filoska's voice exploded through the radio static, so loud that Malesh could hear it across the table. "Are you out of your goddamn mind?! You didn't tell me you were flying to Arvonia! Do you know how hard it is to manage a global steel monopoly when the CEO just vanishes off the grid?! You have literally been absent for seven days! The stock holders are asking questions!"
"Oh, shit," Kniya winced, pulling the receiver slightly away from his ear. "Look, Filoska, I'm really sorry for that. We had to move fast."
"You left me with four foundries burning down and a completely destroyed Commerce Department!" she screamed. "Where even are you?!"
"I can't talk long," Kniya said, trying to keep his voice low so the Arvonian guards wouldn't hear. "But listen to me, I am involved in a really, really important thing right now. If this works, Kavilson Steel is going to quadruple in size by next week. Just hold the fort. Buy whoever you need to buy. I'll wire you when it's done."
He slammed the receiver down and handed it back to the trembling waiter. Malesh just smirked from across the table.
The Ministry of Energy
An hour later, the diplomatic escort led them up the massive, imposing stone steps of the Arvonian Ministry of Energy. The building was built like a fortress—designed for efficiency, power, and absolute control.
They were guided into a sprawling, vaulted boardroom. Standing at the head of a massive ironwood table was the highest Energy Minister of Arvonia. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a stern, heavily scarred face and a perfectly tailored military-style suit.
"Mr. Malesh. Mr. Kniya," the Minister greeted, his voice echoing in the cavernous room. He extended a massive, calloused hand.
"Minister," Malesh replied, shaking his hand with a grip equally as firm, his face a perfectly blank mask. Kniya followed suit, flashing his trademark arrogant smile.
"Have a seat, gentlemen," the Minister commanded, gesturing to the heavy chairs opposite him. "Your arrival is highly anticipated. Let us dispense with the pleasantries and begin. Arvonia is hungry, and we hear you are the only men who can feed us."