The Arcadian Galactic Commonwealth was a bit like a cross between an absolute monarchy and a republic. Arkhan was, for all intents and purposes, able to override any decision, no matter how many people wanted otherwise, but he tried very hard to keep himself out of the senatorial political apparatus whenever possible. There were only a handful of times when he took direct action and forced his will on the politicians of Arcadian space.

This was one of those times.

He was honestly unsurprised that things had reached this point. He actually had expected that his mandates regarding political corruption, bribery/ lobbying, etc. to be ignored far sooner than this point and had expected that he would have to step in at some point. The fact that more and more power was being consolidated into a single position and held by a single person was cause for concern, and the sheer charisma this person gave off and their political and economic maneuvering gave the God-King of Arcadia chills.

He had to act, and he had to act now. The Prime Minister was effectively the head of every branch of government (although he was still below Arkhan in terms of authority). Arkhan would not permit any one person, group, branch of government, system or entity (besides himself and his wife) to gain too much power. Mind you, he had allowed things to reach this point intentionally, all to show what he would and could do to those that pushed beyond their bounds.

The Prime Minister sat in his ornate chair, paid for by embezzled taxpayer funds, in an office that was filled to the walls with magnificent sculptures, fine art and more gold, silver, copper, platinum and precious gems than you could shake a stick at. He noticed, though the screens on his desk, that twenty MSGs were escorting Arkhan down the halls leading to his office.

“What could that brat want?” he asked himself. “And those machines that are with him, I’ve bossed enough of them around that I know that they are obedient to me. If I order them to depose the brat, they will do so. After all, I am the one truly destined to rule the galaxy!”

The doors to the Prime Minister’s office opened, and the 10 GM Striker IIs and 10 Gyan Kreigers filed in along the sides, leaving Arkhan standing in the doorway. The God-King had a stern look about him, one that was filled with a mix of distain and fury.

“Prime Minister Johan Donald Smithfield, in the name of the Arcadian Galactic Commonwealth and by the will of the Senate, I hereby order you to surrender. You will stand trial for your grievous abuse of your position. The Senate will decide your fate.”

Johan laughed and retorted, “The Senate will decide my fate? I AM the Senate!”

“Are you now?” Arkhan asked as his face filled with even more distain for the wretch in front of him.

“Yes!” Yelled the Prime Minister, “I am not only the Senate, but every other part of this nation’s government and military! I AM this nation! And without this nation, you are nothing!”

“So,” Arkhan said in a monotone voice, “you are saying that you are the state?”

“Yes! You would do well to-!”

“So, what if you are the state?” Arkhan’s eyes drilled holes into Johan’s own, “I am a God. And next to me, you are nothing. You are the state? Don’t make me laugh. You control the military? What a joke. Blackmane, Norn, Zimmiad I and so many others warned me of your rise, and I knew ahead of time of what you were going to try and pull. You never had their support or obedience and every bit of dirt you got on them to blackmail them was false. They merely played the parts I told them to, and now it is time to deal with you. You are nothing but a cancerous tumor in this nation, and you will be excised. Now, what do you say to my words?”

Johan’s gaze filled with rage but softened into one of pity.

“You ignorant child, you know not what you do. If you refuse to yield your power to me, well…”

Johan slipped a hidden beam saber from inside his sleeve into his hand.

“It’s treason, then.”

As Johan ignited the beam saber, Arkhan’s expression shifted into a smile, which caught Johan off guard.

“I agree. Deal with him.”

The beam saber in his hand vanished, leaving Johan stunned.

“What?! How?!”

Arkhan smirked and mockingly answered, “To quote Pope Zimmiad I, ‘Arkhan giveth, and Arkhan taketh away’.”

“NO!”

With a snarl, the human former Prime Minister ran for a secret exit but was cut off and cornered by the twenty Mobile Suit Golems.

“Wait! You damn machines, I am your master! You serve me not that insufferable bra-!”

The robe-covered man was cut off with a hit from a taser to his face.

Johan fell and hit the marble-covered ground hard. Barely conscious, he managed to look up and see Arkhan looking down his nose at him.

“Do you truly hate me that much?!”

“Hate?” Arkhan continued to look down on him, “How could I hate you? No, I don’t hate you at all. All I feel is pity. Pity that you were so cowardly that you feared that you would one day lose control. Pity that you were so terrified of other people having their desires met and not yours that you tried to make the nation your bitch. Pity that you thought that you ruled everyone and everything and that no one and nothing could defy your every whim.”

Arkhan turned away and walked out of the room before stopping and looking back over his shoulder.

“The most pitiful thing is that you thought you could take what is mine with such ease. For those and more, I cannot bring myself to hate you at all. How could anyone at all possibly bring themselves hate someone so utterly pitiful?”

With a small chuckle and a wave of his hand, Arkhan walked away from the former Prime Minister and contemplated the actions he would need to take, and the preventative measures needed to make sure he would not have to do this anytime in the immediate future. He was not against having such an entertaining dalliance from time to time, but he really wanted to avoid his nation falling to corruption like so many other nations had.

Besides, he had issues outside of his nation to deal with. The Proxy War was still going on, and he had to make sure that the UGN and their corporate puppet masters, the OCS were bled dry of funding. As much as he liked the theatrics he had put on, it was just not beneficial to either himself or Arcadia to be dealing with a ‘war’ on two fronts.