Latvia, a minor country that barely makes its presence felt either internationally or in Europe. Or one might say, there are too many little countries like it in Eastern Europe. After the disintegration of the Soviet Union, they had basically fallen off the map of international discourse.
Ever since Earth ventured into the Solar System era, the situation of Eastern European countries has always been quite awkward. The old powerful countries of Europe don't consider them as their own, and the massive neighboring entity won't let them tag along. These scraps of countries, fragmented like cookie crumbs, are adrift among the major powers, directionless, paralyzed, and in an even worse state than Africa.
Although African countries might be weak, they know who to cozy up to: prosperous areas are generally pro-America, whereas less developed regions that have received a lot of aid from China lean towards China; former French colonies can stick with their old masters, and the worst-off can trail behind Wakanda and share some of its benefits.
But Eastern Europe is truly friendless and ignored by all. America, busy with its own space development, hasn't for a long time hinted at using NATO to balance against the East.
Besides this slight strategic value, Eastern Europe lacks land, people, resources: fragmented and striving to call the shots even though they're weak and insignificant.
They once had a voice in international discourse because they were sovereign states. Now, however, they've all gone silent and are focusing on internal development. Nobody is listening to them anymore. It seems they have fallen out of favor entirely.
If one had to choose the tallest from a group of dwarfs, it would be Latvia, traditionally nondescript, that now shows potential.
The most commonly discussed aspect of this small country is that they switched to a republic system earlier, yet since God King Doom's arrival, Latvia's political system started regressing, rushing back towards feudal monarchy without looking back.
Of course, feudal monarchy should've become obsolete in a modern civilized society, but when the alternative is American-style democracy, feudal monarchy doesn't seem so unbearable anymore.
The reality is, after Doom overturned Latvia's democracy and restored the feudal order, it turned out that Latvia could indeed stand taller.
After all, Doom is no ordinary man. Comparing him to Tony Stark, if Stark were to become the king of a small country, he would definitely choose a feudal system. It's not because he craves power, but because this system has the strongest enforcement power, and it's the simplest to operate.
An exceptionally gifted and wise ruler, a highly centralized system, and an absence of external interference – even in modern society, these are the elements of a system that can most easily accelerate a country's development, and that's exactly what's happening in Latvia.
When Doom regressed and floored the diesel to reverse back to feudal monarchy, there were indeed protests from neighboring countries, and the international community condemned this move through several rounds of discussions.
But in the end, development is what counts. Once Latvia became the Wakanda of Eastern Europe, no one dared to antagonize God King Doom.
After successfully turning Latvia into his kingdom, Doom built a grand palace in Riga, the capital of Latvia. Despite its massive size and opulence, the general public raised no objections.
Trying to grasp the concept of a country of over 60 thousand square kilometers with only two million inhabitants, you have to consider that Shanghai, with 6 thousand square kilometers, is packed with over 20 million people.
Land is not scarce here in Latvia; even in Riga, there are vast tracts of land available for development. Even if Doom were to build ten more palaces, it wouldn't take up much space.
Latvia is not a very prosperous country. Its population is small, and its pace of life is slow. Its communication network is not well developed, and it is not well integrated with the international community. The public generally has little interest in politics. Most residents consider Doom a madman but lack the motivation to overthrow him. At present, both sides are in a state of mutual disregard.
But Doom doesn't mind. He just wants an independent base from which to display his talents. And indeed, he is talented. Those disowned Eastern European dwarfs, after repeatedly hitting a wall with their bootlicking, have finally realized that they had been standing next to a big player all along.
Everyone criticizes regression; everyone dreams of regression. Which politician doesn't want to be a dictator, controlling all the power? The reason to hate Doom isn't that he's become an emperor, but that, while everyone else is holding back, he is the honest one. While everyone else merely thinks about it, he has put plans into action, and not just put them into action, but succeeded. How could he not attract resentment?
But resentment can't change anything. The small Eastern European countries look left and see their supposedly weakened counterparts start recuperating once America loosens its leash. They look right: their huge neighbors are tossing rockets into the sky as if they were worthless. Looking far away, they see the poor countries of Africa each finding a wise leader to cling to.
Then they look down at their own small world: they are truly no different from Poland, everyone laughs at Poland, everyone is Poland.
The capable ones have all left on spaceships, does that mean they own the Earth now? Even the most foolish politicians wouldn't think that. It's more likely that they have been left behind when Earth has left.
With their growth speeding up, these insignificant Baltic States are finally losing patience. Ambassadors and even State Secretaries and Deputy Presidents are making daily trips to Latvia. Doom isn't upset, he's just annoyed.
In the end, Doom is still a scientist. He shares many similarities with Stark. They both desire power not for the sake of power itself, but because they have confidence in their own judgment and need sufficient execution power. Power is just the vessel for their wisdom and resolution.
However, if you really ask them to become politicians, plunging headfirst into the cesspool of international discourse, wasting their genius on dirty political games, they would run a mile.
After meeting with five fatuous and headache-inducing ambassadors in a day, Doom assembled a body double robot under cover of darkness, took his departure and hit the road.
The area at the foot of the Himalayas is a gray zone filled with a mixed bag of people, especially from the perspective of the magic realm. Many contraband items can be traded here, and the harsh weather conditions cannot deter these mystics.
Doom established his laboratory here mainly because it was a convenient place to obtain scarce materials. The presence of Kamar-Taj overhead ensured that everyone didn't dare go too far. Hence, trading was honest, and supply was steady.
There is a small village on the road to Kamar-Taj, not far from the village where the Master Ancient One was born, though it is larger. There is virtually no ordinary people here; perhaps generations ago there were, but because of the strange beings continuously passing through, all who remain have a thorough understanding of the realm of mysticism.
Another snowfall in the Himalayas sees the villagers, wrapped in thick leather robes, out to sweep the snow from the roads. Suddenly, a shadow lands in front of the broom. The villager looks up to see the metal mask under the hood.
"Who are you looking for?" A villager asked in somewhat broken English.
"Is the café open?" A mechanical and slightly sharp voice emanated from under the hood.
Another odd one, the villager thought, but the village wasn't short of oddities, so he just kept sweeping the snow off the ground with his broom and said, "The café's open, but it's about to close. You'd better hurry."
The masked stranger didn't respond, but continued to move towards the depths of the village with a rhythmic stride.
Walking in from the main road, turning right, passing through a gap between the stable and the inn, he arrived onto another broader street, from the only door with a sign came the sounds of hubbub.
The creaky sound of the door opening made the inside atmosphere falter momentarily. Soon after, whispers arose again. "The weirdo's back!" "He's just too strange." "Why did the village head let him in? Look at that eerie mask of his, how could a robot use magic?"
Accompanied by ongoing chatter, the man with the steel mask and hood took a seat by the window. Soon, a young local girl wearing a muffler brought over a cup of hot tea.
"Thank you." The mechanical voice echoed again.
Peering curiously into the darkness under the man's hood, the villager-lady was startled when she saw a pair of slightly glowing mechanical eyes and quickly averted her gaze, scampering back behind the counter.
What were those eyes like? She found it hard to describe, cold, ruthless and yet mysterious, he was inscrutable.
"Dingling."
The wind chimes hung on the door chimed again as another figure in a cloak and hood walked in. He approached the counter and ordered, "I'll have a hot red tea, and one cup of milk."
"Coming right up, you may sit first."
The robed figure moved further in. He didn't stop at any of the seats on his path, but instead, he strode steady steps towards the table across from the masked stranger and took a seat.
This seat was tucked in a corner. While the man in the robe's chair faced away from all the customers in the café, so when he took off his hood, no one could see his real face.
When the hood came off, it revealed the face of Tony Stark.
"Sir, your tea... Oh, my God!" The waitress screamed when she saw Stark. There were too few people on earth who didn't recognize him. However, she quickly felt a frigid gaze fixated on her.
The waitress shivered, but Stark quickly reassured her, "Don't worry, it's okay. You can go."
Feeling that chilling gaze steadily retreat, the waitress tightened her robe around herself, turning away somewhat stiffly. Stark picked up the cup of milk and poured it into the tea.
The figure across could sense it even through the mask, seeming confused at Stark's action.
"Don't misunderstand, I'm not British. It's just that there's a terribly dramatic fellow in my head who misses his butler."
Stark's voice was soft, almost mumbling, his eyes somewhat lifeless, "You must understand that currently, 90% of my brain is working at maximum capacity. Let's just skip the niceties."
"Just yesterday, I received an anonymous call inviting me to another universe to salvage some technological relics."
"Did you agree as I suggested?"
"Doom really doesn't like this." His tone was that of a detached observer, "There are no technological remnants better than Doom's inventions. Doom is not a scavenger."
"Of course, I understand. We're alike." Stark's voice turned unusually grave, like a demon's whisper. He said, "Nobody likes to scavenge, but remember our deal. It's what you're supposed to do."
"Doom needs no reminding from you." The mechanical voice dispassionate as ever, after a pause, he quizzed, "Just for clarification, to reach the goal, to what extent should Doom be prepared to go?"
"Collect resources as much as possible, create as much chaos as possible, trap everyone and the Doctor there, at least for 4 hours."
The mechanical eyes blinked through the mask as he gave a rigid nod. Before Stark got up and left, Doom spoke again.
"Based on the information at hand, you are a human supremacist without any potential to confront them. Doom wishes to know your reasons."
Stark's movement to stand paused momentarily. He smiled wryly, tapping his finger on the wooden table and said, "Once you truly join this plan, you'll understand."