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Xerxes didn't take long to touchdown in Azadistan. He was wearing a crisp suit and his standard, well cropped beard, but aside from that he made no concessions to religion or formality in his attire, though hardly more concessions need be made to make him any more formal. He waved to anyone present when he landed and smiled brightly. It was something he did often, and no matter how often he was greeted with the press outside a plane, his undying enthusiasm was never dimmed.

 

Of course, that didn't mean that he didn't view the clamoring press with any less disdain than most people in his position. The politicization of the news was something he was well aware of and the various spins that had been put on his words, all meant to be good natured and helpful, had made him realize that it was better not to say anything at all. He made his way to the place of the meeting, where he was eager to meet the leader of this new nation that had appeared out of Central Asia.

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The press at the arrival of the Arabian leader maintained their shots on Nazarbayev, waiting for the moment where Xerxes and he would shake hands. Recorders were nowhere to be seen, to avoid possible gaffes from being heard beyond earshot and hearsay. After Xerxes approached the Chairman, formal greetings were exchanged and both would take their leave to the meeting location within Ak Orda.

 

The Chairman motioned Xerxes and his attache to their seats across from his. After everyone sat down, Nazarbayev spoke. "Hello my neighbor," he said with a short pause. "Lets begin, you have the floor."

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Xerxes took his seat, "First and foremost, I speak for all that I represent when I congratulate you and your countrymen on forging a strong nation in these lands, where there was once so much chaos and division. As your neighbor to the West, we wish to be your friends, more than anything else. There are those who do not trust the stability of your fledgling nation, but who are we to judge when we are hardly much older. I, for one, trust that you can succeed."

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