Consul Shaka glared at the man across from him, his domestic advisor frowned upon the receiving end of that look.
"You mean to tell me that we are inevitably screwed."
The advisors habds shot up, protecting himself and the world from the leader's pessimism.
"No, No, sir I wouldn't say it like that, Not at all. I mean, we have great potential." A grin marched across his face, beating back the armies of despair that held the Consul's expression.
"I can see through your empty words, you mean we are poorly industrialised and unprepared to defend ourselves if we were called to."
"But we can grow further... wherin lies our potential."
Shaka nodded, his head lowering, his eyes moving to the desk.
"Order that the jungles be cleared, we need to get some more modern housing, we need to dispel the diseases of the dark continent."
"Are we going to work with the army?"
"That's confidential, it's between me and Tacitus."
"Just curious."
With a wave of his robed hand the Consul dispelled the advisor. Turning to his papers, wherupon he wrote his message to the gods, informing them of how he would move this turn.