Regis Lucis Caelum, the 1112th High King of Lucis, awaited the arrival of his guests from the east. The Westerosi were to arrive at any moment, specifically the Highlords. The Warden of the North, the Warden of the East, the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands were making their way to the Citadel of Insomnia. The Kingsglaive thought it befitted their noble guest to enter the city as the Lucian citizens do, via automobile. As the saying goes; 'When in Insomnia...'.
Such machines were absent from the Externus. The societies of the Externus were barbaric and primitive, but noticeably similar to how the Continent of Lucis once was. Life without his borders was nasty, brutish and short.
The closely guarded maritime borders of the Continent of Lucis kept the Lucian people safe from foreign threats and at the same time isolated from the affairs of others. Their closest neighbours, the Iron Throne of Westeros and Essos, have been for the past three centuries or so, been hostile actors to the Kingdom of Lucis. In the past, before the Conquest, Lucis had flipped back and forth, from friends to enemies with the individual Kingdoms of Westeros.
Ever since 'The Lucian Shift' from Eos to Planetos, it had stood as a pillar against the darkness. His earliest ancestors came into the world in a time of turmoil, the first Lucii Kings aided the First Men against the Others.
The Mystic King's attempt of fleeing the Starscourge of Eos had only delivered the Lucians to a world infected by the darkness of a different kind. His ancestor may have saved the Lucian people from the Starscourge, but Planetos had its fair share of Daemonic magics.
The blood magic practised by the Essosi, the Valyrians before them, the Ghiscari before them and the Dawn Empire before them, had the Lucians suspicious of any Essosi. That was unfortunate, for most of Planetos' history, the Essosi were the majority of the population.
The Iron Throne on paper would be beneficial to all, Westeros was the most fertile land in the world and having a central authority had brought peace and stability to an otherwise marred continent of warlords. What was tragic in reality, was that the Iron Throne was headed by Valyrians, Dragonlords no less. Ancient rivals who were almost completely wiped out only to return like carrion.
Once upon a time, when Valyria was a regional power, their people dismissed the Six Gods as abhorrent and that Bahamut, a dragon, should submit to the Fourteen Flames. Their constant shows of arrogance in everything, from their diplomacy to warfare and their utter contempt for human decency, earned them his ancestor's enmity.
Despite its isolation, the material wealth of his land, its magic which was absent in other lands and the mystical beasts that roam its wilderness have kept the population of Lucis constantly on guard. The dangers of both the fauna and flora of the land serve to harden his people and sustain a living for them. Their limited trading had somewhat mitigated their limited food supply. The traders of Valyria, Ghis and in recent centuries the Iron Throne have been barred for the sake of Lucis' moral fibre.
The Iron Throne, a sleepy giant of a nation. By its size alone it had overtaken Lucis in agriculture, if they had access to Lucian farming techniques they would flood the world with their goods and a population boom would overwhelm the entire globe. With a surge of the population comes unrest, with that unrest eventually comes war.
The Externus were only held back by their primitive understanding of technology. Lucis' borders were relatively silent in recent decades because of the reputation of Lucian military might. The threat of force by itself scared away any would-be warlord. If the Externus had enough men, that would embolden them to simply throw hundreds of thousands of soldiers at their feet. Lucis could most definitely defend itself for the first few times, but for how much longer after that? Lucis would be exhausted at some point and possibly overwhelmed within a decade. 12,000 years of legacy gone in the wind, not unless King Regis had any say about it.
The Iron Throne had styled itself the Dragon of the world, a successor to its mother, Valyria. Regis had no desire to outright conquer the foreigner's lands, having so many foreigners to Lucis within their borders would upset the status quo. It would mean the Westerosi were within reach of having Lucian weapons for themselves. No, he would act by proxy, the Westerosi would be cowed one way or another. A subjugation of them is out of the question, to police such a continent would expend all of their energy.
The four barbarian nobles arriving now, Hoster Tully, Jon Arryn, Robert Baratheon and Rickard Stark, were all bound together and all were malcontents to the Mad King. They controlled slightly over half the territory of the Iron Throne and under half the amount of soldiers. With enough financing, supply and volunteers, Regis could very well leash his closest neighbours into compliance.
As the throne room doors swung open and the four gaping barbarians walked up to the seat of his obsidian throne, he allowed himself to smile. His regal facade dropped for a moment. As he walked down to allow for the illusion of amiability, he schooled himself back to a stoic demure. There was much work to do.
A/N: This was a writing competition entry I submitted for a college society. I've been have writing bloc problems and thought I might as well post something, anything up. I have several stories running already so this will stay a one-shot.