To the royal worlds of the Kingdom of Gallia

[King Charles XI]

Eight centuries of isolation and plotting will finally be cast aside as ancient history. The fields so hastily put in place by my ancestors will be torn away like a gossamer curtain; the fleets of intricate planning and deep-seated hatred will pour forth, a tide of conquest unto the unsuspecting inhabitants of the Sirius Sector.

Who was it who left us to perish at their own expense? Who was it that so selfishly claimed what was meant to be shared amongst the remnants of a once-proud civilization? Who is it that now squabbles amongst itself, claiming that they are all so different yet with so many similarities?

Sirius.

Sirius is a divine right, a promise made by Charles I to his son, and then down to his son, then on to his son; lineages of born-leaders, destined to one day bring an uncultured and childish collective of human beings into something far greater than anything they could comprehend.

The Council sought to bring a warning to Sirius, a warning that I twisted and warped into my own planning to create a lull; a lull that seduced them into giving us the benefit of the doubt. Disgusting! The Council failed when they first considered themselves a threat to my power, to my kingdom, to my glory! The Council which is not more than a road bump, perverting Languedoc and Champagne into the very face of all that we despise and loathe. Uncultured animals that wallow in their own filth and then complain about it! Like a cleansing wave, my fleets will wash aside the filth and the impurities that infect Gallia!

Sirius fails to tell a different story; a zoo that needs a keeper, a tender, a shepherd. I am that shepherd. Birth-right and the blood that runs in my very veins grants me the right to command them to kneel before the might of Gallia; bow before their salvation from such childish ways that rule them; and to serve their new King!

And now I, Charles DeFrance XI, command you as my instruments of victory, to bring me a victory that I deserve. It is your duty to bring me what is rightfully mine and it is the very nature of all that the DeFrance name has established to succeed at the commands it is given. Not a single drop of the blood, sweat, and tears that my blood line has shed will be wasted on the useless bodies that refuse my ruling. The Gallic people have earned the right to do my bidding. Through service, you show loyalty. Pass everything that you learned on to the uncivilized Sirians.

Smash their armies!

Cleanse their governments!

Subjugate their people!

Bring me Sirius!