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[center][url=https://i.imgur.com/1PEQlS3.png][img]https://c4.wallpaperflare.com/wallpaper/958/966/512/argentina-country-argentina-flag-abstract-other-hd-art-wallpaper-thumb.jpg[/img][/url][/center]
[b][center]THE REPUBLIC OF ARGENTINA[/center][/b][/h1][/sup][/color]
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[b]Santo Domingo, Hispaniola[/b]

The doors to the Argentine consulate had barely been unlocked for the days business when they were thrown wide open by a dozen well dressed and determined looking men who marched straight toward the reception desk. The big marble expanse served to protect the alarmed looking clerks behind it from any physical attack but did nothing to soften the raised voices that echoed off the colonnades and polished stairs.

"We demand to see the Ambassador, at once! You may tell him that Senor Adolfo Carranza is here, along with representatives of various Argentine bushiness here in the Dominican!" A clerk, a pretty local girl, nodded quickly and hurried away toward the staircases while the collection of gentlemen milled about, prevented from following her by two burly soldiers.

The clerk returned within a few moments and beckoned the men to follow her. The heels of their shoes echoed like so many horses or cattle as they bustled along the stone floors, each trying to puff up his chest in an effort to look more important than the next. They passed painted images of Argentinian countryside, even one of the new Chilean territories, and many smaller rooms that appeared largely empty. The building had once been a wealthy wine merchants home until he ran afoul of the Dominican Dictator, Rafael Trujillo. The house had then been gifted to the Argentine government in return for aid in rebuilding damaged infrastructure. Trujillo had gotten his country back on its feet, well, enough for the newly arrived capitalists to begin exploiting and for him to profit from it. 

They arrived, eventually, in a small garden where there was barely enough for all of them to crowd onto the stones, more than a few desperately trying to keep their polished toes from the moist brown dirt of the well kept garden. The ambassador, a short plump man who had made it rich in exploiting the resources of Hispaniola, eyed them over a cup of tea, a habit he had picked up from his British counterpart. 

"Buenos días, señores. Welcome to my home." 

"Good morning indeed!" Carranza replied as he doffed his hat for a moment. The rest quickly followed suit. "I am terribly sorry to interrupt, but we wished to speak with you about the situation to the north. The rebels are already causing damage to a number of our investments!"

The Ambassador raised a hand to prevent the murmur of agreement that was about to swell into more shouting. People often mistook his small size and portly frame for someone of low intelligence. That was doing him a disservice. By enjoying the position he held, and the access it gave him to Trujillo, he had built a considerable business empire of his own. He was a man to be feared and admired. 

"Gentlemen, I have already contacted the President General and he assures me help is on the way. We cannot let these uncivilized Jingoistic rebels undo everything we have done." He finished his tea and looked down at a sheet of paper that was being held in place by his tea plate. Nearby, one of the businessmen cursed under his breath as a parrot shit on his shoulder. "I believe a Naval task-force has been dispatched, including a seaplane carrier."

"You mean to support Trujillo then?" Demanded the shit stained man.

"Yes, as long as it suits our interests. I have already spoken with my Spanish counterpart and he assures me that Spain will not allow its interests to be threatened here either. They are in no position to project power into the Caribbean, but they have promised considerable funds to us in order to assist with our own efforts."

A collective sigh of relief went through the group. 

"What next then?"

"What next? My dear sir, have you not heard the horrible things the Rebels are doing? It's truly terrible. Rape! murder! Torture! Daily executions of men they capture!" The ambassador placed one hand daintily on his chubby chest as he spoke and adopted a look of pure sadness. He leaned forward. "I even heard they have been eating the hearts of some captives to absorb their strength!"

Gasps of horror went through the assembly and a few paled. Carranza gripped his cane fiercely and held it like it might be some sort of weapon. "We shall vote some funds at once to raise and arm local militias here in the city and surrounding countryside. Come gentlemen!"

Like a heard of ducklings following their mother, they hurried back out of the embassy. The ambassador watched them go and couldn't help but smile slightly. He was certain there were some actual war crimes being committed out by the rebels, but likely none as terrible as those he had invented and would broadcast to the world that afternoon. 


[@Abefroeman]