The years had been tough, and the people grew weak, until a noble youth took to the throne. He was kind, gracious, strong and merciful. He organized the tiny city state for years, staying out of the petty wars the other kingdoms delightlyfully partook in on a yearly basis wasting resources and man power. The king took pride in science, and in doing so developed weapons far superior to their neighbors, they used sword and shield and primitive musket. Where he now had basic pre-packaged shot, they could load their own flint lock devise and fire much quicker than the former.

Soon after they began testing and building constructs of war. Massive machines that required huge boilers and engines to power most were the size of a large single story house. They were armored with thick iron, and outfitted with large cannons. They lumbered slowly with up to six legs crawling across the earth, always infantry flanking their sides. The first kingdom fell within a day, they marched straight to the capitol, gave them a set of demands, promptly answered with a volly of musket fire and in response they advanced the war machines. The war constructs leveled the the walls and clambered through the holes they made. They brought down the kings keep with no troubles at all.

It raged on for two more years slowly taking each kingdom. Until all six kingdoms were successfully wrangled under the banner of the young king. And from here the steam collation was formed.

---

KnightCliff

The city had been built long ago, designed against siege. It was a massive circle each ring could be used to see ones wealth. The closer to city center, the more powerful and wealthy the person was. At the absolute center was the hub of power. A mighty fortress, designed against ancient catapults, siege, and almost every natural disaster. But today it mostly served as a home for the royal family, and the steam guards homebase of operation ( Though officers and veteran NCOs were permitted.)

King Charles sat in a beautifully decorated room. Made of creamy white marble, expensive weavings and paintings adorned the walls. There was a silky black rug stretched out before him leading to the entrance. The throne he currently sat in was made of gold, bronze, silver and steal. The cushions made of black felt, and stuffed with down making a very comfortable seat, but it mattered not how nicely decorated, or designed the throne room was Charles simple disliked conducting business in such a manor and would often stand, shake hands and great who ever had business to do with him.

He wore a eloquent suit, tailored to perfection, it was all dark dark grey. Except for the small Pocket square which was violet. He stood slightly taller than most men in his country, he had a very athletic build from years of sporting, and other things of that nature. He kept a well groomed mustache and side burns, his brown hair perfectly parted to the left. He had a squared jaw and chisled features. Many women found him very attractive and as such had found himself an equally pleasing wife. Though she was no where to be found at the moment.

He snapped out of his small personal journey to another realm he stood and shook the hands of a very dirty looking merchent. "Morning your majesty, I'm here to ask about a petition for a guild to open up within the city. I believe it will bring much trade and honor to our country." The mans voice was raspy and seemed as dirty as his person. "Well then sir, please let me hear it." He asked with feigned interest. He often would just go through the motions of this meet and greet. It happens every day until Noon. "Ah yes, your majesty will be most pleased, I am looking g at starting a magic, exploration guild. We have ten people signed up for it thus far. All our paper work is in order. We wish to study magic so someday we can all use it or unlock its potential energy!" Finally he had something of worth upon his lap."I'll have to read up on it myself and inspect each members sheet. What would the countires profit be then?" He always was looking to expand his own pockets a little. Often times dabbling in Business ventures and such. "We would give everything to the government. We just want sanction to work for you." He cocked a brow at this " We would get rights and profjtst from inventions? " the man nodded with little eloquens"We just want you to contract us, a modest sum of money is all we want to help fuel our guild, we have no wish for the products we will make."Ah the catcher, they wanted to build weapons. "I'll have to see about it. You'll be contacted in three days with a desicion. " the man bowed and parted, he sat the rest of the day dealing with similar people. Finally at noon he left his chair and ventured out to find his lovely wife. "Oh wife of mine, what do you say we go for an outing with the boy? Maybe visit the country side in the new walker?" He had snuck up behind her giving her a loving kiss on the cheek. She was sitting on a small bench reading, facing out a massive window which overlooked the city.

Alexandra, was quite beautiful, she had straw colored hair, and bright green eyes. Her features were soft and smooth. She filled out what ever dress she wore and had a lovely curved figure. Her lips were not too plumb but not thin. She had a slightly up turned nose though it was small. She looked up to him smiling lightly "Husband, you know we have things to take care of here. But it has been a bit since we had any sort of ball or party. We could even Invite over some of our neighboring kingdoms? I do wish get better aquianted with them the idoriens of course, maybe some Orsini? Or maybe just to all the continental nations?" He nodded slightly and kissed her cheek again "I'll get the arrangements started love." With that he dissapeared down the hall way calling a Butler to send out letters to each nation that would allow an outside currior to enter. "Have it expressed that we're hosting a party with food of course and the following night we'll have a small business meeting if they so wish too" the man nodded and carried out his task.

Lucis caput and the birthday of the immortal empress

It was a bright sunny wonderful day in the Empire, as it should be during the most important holy day of the year. The spires of Lucis caput shined with wonderful light that seemed to be captured from the very heavens themselves and the streets of this grand city was filled from top to bottom. The peasants, the merchants, the priests and the soldiers each one was here, trying to get a good spot to look up towards the noblest of the spires where the empress would soon giver her birthday speech. It was so crowed that roofs and houses had been evacuated and was used solely for spectators. Proud banners and coat of arms flew in the wind and the streets was filled with the nose of happiness. Traders where ready, selling iron figurines, cheap tasty food, snacks and other handy things for the small and the adult alike. The painters had secured a roof for themselves to make sure they would capture the empress all in her glory. The very city streets echoed with the sound of music, song and praises towards the glass spires.

Johannes stood inside Spira stellarum watching over a map of the city making doubly sure that the local guard-force was stationed correctly to ensure that nothing too chaotic would happen during this extremely important day. Old Blackeye had started to show his age, his scales had started becoming greyer and that old musket wound had never been properly healed so he got one ugly scar across his shoulder and that sword swing had nearly costed him his eye back in the day. Yet he struggled on and he was indeed rewarded greatly.
''Mmm...'' he mumbled to himself. But his quiet mediation (figuratively speaking) ended in a bang when the Judeus and Khairi came storming in to the Spire. As they often did they where debating
''I say we should abandon material items, set a example for the our kin down on the street'' Judeus proclaimed with one of his fingers up in the air. He had yet the age of Blackeye nor did he have the scars for war. Instead he had the white robe with a iron weights around his feat and hands, to symbolise his eternal servitude to the empress. What he did before the time he got selected for this council Johannes did not know. He seemly was from a poor peasants background and he found some eternal truth and he got put on the council for it...at-lest that what Johannes has been told. However Judeus performed his duties with quite the flair and elegance, often leading the sermons in the capital with such devotion that you could almost here the very city streets chant with him.
''Our creed has nothing against such things. They only make worship easier. We should entourage the kin to buy more'' Khairi was the odd kin out in this council. He was rich, had connections, spies and assassins everywhere and he was a snake.....but he was one capable snake. He also wore a robe but this robe was of the finest garments with lines of rare mineral colours like copper and gold. Johannes knew all too well Khairi's past since he was a very ambitious merchant and trade lord from De quibus fecit cælum. He sometimes seemed to completely lack morals...but the empress trust in him reward the empire with a increased treasury and trade. Johannes still dint trust him

''Blackeye Judeus called out to him ''Where do you stand on this?''
Blackeye grunted and they waved his hand
''Lets worry about our empresses birthday right now'' The other two kin put aside their argument and went over to the balcony where the dragonkins had gathered. Judeus as always spoke first
''SISTERS! BROTHERS! FELLOW FOLLOWERS OF THE ETERNAL TRUTH AND EMPRESS! LET HER HEAR US ROAR WITH THE ALL THE MIGHT OUR DEVOUT VOICES CAN MUSTER!'' The town became ecstatic, as every single one started to roar a mighty devout dragons roar from their very souls. In to the skies, everyone (council member's as well).
''AGAIN!'' Johannes shouted and a roar followed higher then the last one
''AGAIN!'' Khairi shouted and a roar followed higher then the last one. Then one grand shadow darkened the capital as something descended from the heavens. A strong voice called out higher then anyone
''I HEAR YOU MY CHILDREN! I FEEL YOUR HEARTS DESIRE TO STILL SERVE ME AS I HAVE SERVED YOU. I AM HERE NOW!'' The Empress in all her glory descended toward the capital square witch had been blocked of until now. She landed with a proud look on her face, happy to see her kin still alive. When the lading ended she let her four might legs and two might wings rest as she lied down on the ground.
''Come...if you wish i am here'' The kin rose to a frenzy rushing to their empresses side, hugging the might legs, small children claimed across her, priests gathered small skin fragments from her body and all manner of dragonkin stood in line to speak with her.
''Bless me and my son''
''My blessing is eternal and forever. Go in peace''
''Guide our people forever''
''As your actions speak I will judge''
''My daughter is sick...''
''Her time is not yet to be...let her rest a day or two in the sun and she will become better''

Several hours later when all the kin had spoken or touched her, The Immortal Empress ascended to the top of her spire in to her crown chamber where the council was waiting for her. Each one of them was kneeling in front of this massive dragon. Her eyes where bright green and her scales where always fresh and new..like an infants. She made a gesture for her council to rise
''I will retire now. My wings are tried from all the flying. I wish you to carry out my final statement Johannes.'' Johannes nodded as the empress withdrew to her private chambers where she was always left alone, not to be disturbed. Johannes went out on the balcony and declared one last thing
''Our empress wishes to declare one final thing. Their is on this earth races who does not recognise her divine right to rule. But there is also one who claims that their is no god only ''gods''.'' This statement came a box of dynamite in to the fire, as the people now became angry and mad, they started to scream who and what towards the balcony
''The nation who is declared a heretic from this time forward....is the so called ''The Great Spirit of Azera'' and its people that called themselves ''Azera'' will all be judged with it. May the fires of truth burn away their falsehood.'' The people was ecstatic and happy to now have a true enemy, a heretic to an enemy. Johannes withdrew and the festivity went on for the rest of the night and day.

[Irodon-Vosta region]

The mighty onyx brick walls that protected the capital and divide it into two parts. The lower part of the city is were the majority of the population lived and worked in the factories there. The upper among the barracks and other government buildings was the Imperial place the Gothic arches and spires made it an impressive building to show imperial power. The inside was simplistically decorated with not much there in terms of showing off.

The Emperor Axaium was not in his throne room he was in the war room with high ranking imperial commanders looking over the large map of the eastern border region of the empire. "The 3rd and 12th Caldar legions will be able to over run the defenders of the scatter towns in the area and bring the area under Imperial control within two months. It would take about a week to mobilized the troops needed to to launch an offensive into this region my lord," one of the imperial generals explained. The Emperor rubbed his short cut beard, "you have your resources and time, but I expect results. Council dismissed," he said getting up and leaving the throne room. He soon arrived back at the throne room were a messenger was waiting for him "Hello my lord I have message from the king and queen of the Steam Coalition." Axaium nodded to continue reading "the letter say you are invited to a ball being hosted by the royal family, there will be food and a small business meeting the fallowing day " Axaium thought over it for a few minutes before responded "tell your lord I will attended and bring a few people with me," the messenger gave a quick bow before exiting. The emperor return to his throne as an old Sanfures with white hair an a long beard of the same color in a very decorated marine uniform and using cane to help him walk. Axaium notice him entering " Ahh there you are Tybal how do you feel about traveling?" the aging Governor- Militant raised and eyebrow "I sure these old bones can go on a trip," Axaium grinned "great pack we are heading to the Steam Coalition. Before we can leave we have to find my son," the Emperor order, Tybal gave a quick salute before leaving.

Orsini, Pariah District

The sun shone in Orsini. The sky was clear, the starlings were chirruping, the wind was a meagre breeze and the streets were filled with people.

Of course, it was the Market and Pleasure districts that everyone had decided to visit. The Arsenal was full of the sounds of clashing steel and cries of pain as someone inevitably took their training too far, the Arcane region had nothing but scholars, who decided to study outside their church-like schools rather than in the mournful, silent halls and the Workers district had decided to hold a Farmer's Market.

Only one section of the city-state held its characteristic silence, as only the occasional walker went through the quiet, tree-covered district - the aptly named Pariah District.
Under the shadow of the trees, in the silence of one of the many graveyards, two men and two women kneeled next to a gravestone. Three were Pariahs, their dull robes blending seamlessly with the dirt tracks and grey headstones. The fourth was wearing similiar robes, but in a light leaf-green.

"L'estreme unzione, cherub." Girus murmered softly "Requiescat in pace"

The stone was a new one, an eight-year old girl who had been butchered whilst out walking. The killer was human, who managed to set three new records with his crime - the first human to commit a crime in Orsini in fifty years, the first man convicted of an Obscene crime in over a hundred and quite possibly the first to to commit two Obscene crimes ever. He had confessed almost instantly, and laughed as he boldly told his jailors that he was proud of what he did and would do it again if he had a second chance.

Girus sighed as he remembered the execution, held publicly in the Arsenal. His laughter quickly turned to screams as Arabella neutered him in front of a cheering crowd, and Aggrippa had tested a new type of venom on him. Monsters like him didn't deserve a merciful, quick death, Girus thought, especially since what he did was done to one not old enough to moult her first feather.

He remembered the pain of the funeral that he had to put on and attend, the tears of the family who had lost their only child. It was not a religious affair - the family wanted it to be an intimate, fond occasion, where they could say goodbye to their girl in peace.

He didn't know the family - never did. Yet they poured their hearts out to the young man, telling him of her fondness for music, her lovely singing and gentle nature. The mother was especially tearful, as the last thing she ever said to her daughter was "make sure to be back by seven".

He had listened politely. Sometimes, all heartache needs is a good listener, and Girus had a very good ear. But sometimes, you need to go a bit further. Which was exactly why Girus was here now. The girl had never received her last rites - an issue the Pariahs had to clear up.

"Rest in peace, little angel." He sighed, standing up. He was done - done with the rites, done with the graveyard, done with Orsini. He needed a break just for a couple of days. He didn't care where he went, just so long as he got out of the ever-morbid graveyards that dominated his slice of the city.

"Sheesh, kid, you're really the life and soul of the party, huh?"said a familiar voice behind him. The Pariahs hadn't even moved, despite the fact they could have heard the visitor coming a mile away. They probably knew who it was, which was just as well - if they had been wrong, they wouldn't have recognised a threat until it was too late.

"Good morning, Artemis" Girus responded quietly, not even turning around.
Hunter bristled "Gir, you know I hate being called that"
"I never understood why. Artemis is such a nice name."
"Not to me, little guy." Hunter laughed, before growing serious "Anyway, enough chit-chat. I'm here on business ."
"Oh. Well, what can we help you with?"
"Actually, I was hoping to speak with you in private. Is that alright?"
The Pariahs looked at Girus with pleading eyes. He smiled and waved them on "Go on. Enjoy yourselves"
There was cheering, bringing a bit of spirit to the otherwise lifeless graveyard. Then it was just Hunter and Girus amongst the rows of headstones.

"Man, I bet they were just dying to get out of here, huh?" Hunter punned, grinning widely "Oh, come on, Gir, that was funny! "
"W-what was it you needed to talk about, Hunter?" Girus blushed. He hadn't thought his guards had been that bored, but it seemed like they were, as Hunter had put it, dying to get out of his company. Was he really that uninteresting?

"You look cute when you blush" Hunter smirked, which served only to enhance the red in the younger Pariah's cheeks. "Yeah, so, as I was saying, you know how Raelyn's gone out of town for a few days, and Arabella stepped in to help keep the Market running. Well, she asked if you could help her run the Pleasure District."

"What?!" Girus squeaked - yes, actually squeaked - his normally pale face now with two bright red tomatoes where his cheeks should be "Me, running a bordello? I couldn't!"
"Come on, little guy, we need you. So you see a few girls in their underwear. Big whoop. It's nothing you haven't seen before, right?"
Silence. Girus scuffed the ground softly, head bent.
"Not even accidentally? You've never walked into the Pariah's rooms whilst they've been changing or something?"
The softest of whimpers.
"Well, consider it an experience. Come on, you can do it! Its just like looking at them normally but with less clothes on."
"But...But..."
"No buts. I'm sure Arabella picked you for a reason. You've got everything a bordello owner needs - you've talked to people on intimate matters before, you lead the Pariahs well enough, you're good-looking"
Not to mention weak, submissive and shy, Hunter thought, but kept to herself.

Girus was about to decline, but started thinking. What would happen if he said no? Arabella would struggle keeping both areas afloat and he would sit here and stare at tombs all day. Maybe this was the change of scenery he needed

"Alright. I'll do it" he said in a barely audible whisper. Hunter heard him, though, and swept him up in a big hug.
"Aww, yeah! That's my Gir! I swear, I could kiss you."
The Pariah sighed. What had he just let himself in for?

It was interesting times in the nation which labelled it self The Great Spirit of the Azera. Their technological innovations stood them in increasingly good stead for a position on the world stage. Their large population, united military and ambitious traders all painted an image of a nation on the rise and, truth be told, that is what the majority of the Azera firmly believed was the case. Many saw their rise as inevitable, their prosperity and success guaranteed, that fate was on their side. However, the senior echelons of the Azera knew the reality of the situation, they knew just how vulnerable they really were. Their military was mighty, but no more mighty than some of the other world players. Their economy was solid, but it was far from being an economic super power. Their technological innovations were commendable, but whilst they were strong in some fields other nations had strong technological advances in others. It was a delicate balancing act and it just got a lot more dangerous.

In the Snake Tooth Peninsular sat the city of Footfall, the capitol of the Azera people and the heart of her financial, military and governmental machine. The victim mentality of the Azera shone through in the cities design, for whilst many of the buildings on the city may have been elegant white structures of bold, clean, beautiful shapes and contours, there was also a definite military presence. The outer walls were tall, sloping and grey, with towers, turrets and gun emplacements to defend from attacks both from the shore and the sea. Indeed, even anti air emplacements were even now being added to the city’s impressive fortifications. Similar defences were repeated near the core of the city, protecting the government district. At the very core of that place sat the famous Black Keep. The Black Keep was an imposing structure, a castle that had first been built when Footfall had been conquered by the Azera and which served as a potent reminder of who the rulers were now. Over the years it had been added to and updated but always in that chilling black rock that almost seemed to shine in the light, either that or more durable modern materials painted black. It had long since stopped being a reminder of who ruled the city, the local population was now almost entirely Azera. But it served as a building of national pride and gave the people something of a sense of identity.

Deep in the oldest part of the Black Keep, in one of the ancient banquet halls, sat a small cadre of men and women around a table. At the head of the table was First Lord Arasan. His slightly flecked and dark grey skin was complimented by the simple yet elegant black suit like garment that he was wearing. Around him were a number of other senior members of the Azera military and government. The agenda today had several important items and right at the top was the recent inflammatory declaration given by The Theological Empire of Stellata.
“Their intent was clear!” Stated Lord Marshal Derius, a man of light grey skin and sitting in an immaculate white uniform which was the parade uniform of the Air Corps. “It is a declaration of war. We were declared heretics and sentenced to the fire and the people cheered for our demise.” But the table was not united behind his opinion. A woman of near powder white skin, graceful form and in an elegant silver dress simple shook her head. This was General Amabasador Lady Visar, the most senior diplomat and foreign relations figure.
“The word war was never mentioned, we were declared heretics and certainly those theocratic zealots would gladly see us burn. But I don’t think they are going to attack us yet. But I agree with Derius in that this affront cannot go unaddressed. To simply let it slide would make us appear weak and leave us open to sterner impositions in the future from many nations. But we must not over react.”

First Lord Arasn steepled his fingers in front of him, deep in thought, nodding very slightly and slowly with a slight hum of contemplation. When he eventually spoke he lowered his fingers and spoke slowly and deliberately.
“Issue a declaration, condemning the comments made against us and criticising the Theological Empire of Stellata for judging men purely by faith and religion. Say that such an attitude is outdated and makes them unfit to stand amongst the modern civilised nations. We must also back this up with physical action. Issue a trade embargo and a ban on all Theological Empire of Stellata ships passing through out territorial waters.” The ban on passing through Azera waters would hit the Theological Empire of Stellata quite hard. Control of the Grey Isles meant the Azera could lay claim to huge swathes of the vast east coast bay, certainly it’s northern half. Any attempts to sail ships out would have to hug the coast and sail east through the waters of her neighbour country to the east and then either sail south and go all the way around the mainland, or go further east into dangerous open waters and try to sail around Azera territory. Either way it would be a significant and costly detour for trade and hurt the profits of the Theological Empire of Stellata as they would have to wait longer for their ships to get to and from their destinations and either charge higher prices to cover it, risking clients going to cheaper alternatives, or accept a significant down turn in revenue per ship.

But first Lord Arasan was not done yet. Turning to Derius he added. “We cannot ignore the possibility that the dragons will escalate this further, armed conflict is possible. We will try to avoid it through diplomacy but we must be ready. Mobilise the armed forces and put us in a state of readiness to do battle with the Stellata. I will leave the details to you.” Derius simply gave a nod and the table moved to the next item on the agenda.

This time Lady Visar took the lead.
“Sir, with our position in the world and the building military tensions it is more important than ever to have firm allies. Our relationship with the Goblin Confederation is already strong, I have seen to it to remind them of our arrangements and have sent them a consignment of food and trade goods. We must however, turn to other nations.” This was simple common sense and none around the table disagreed with the analysis thus far, the issues was which ones to turn to. Derius had his own strong opinions on the matter.
“Sir, we must turn to Irodein Empire, their military strength is formidable and we should avoid war with them if possible. I urge you to start fostering diplomatic relations immediately. At first we could merely prevent a war between our two peoples, but eventually we may actually become allies. Imagine what could be achieved with our combined forces.” The Lord Marshal clearly believed what he was saying, his words were edged with a firm conviction and a dream of what the future might be. Lady Visar however, was less optimistic. She sound unsettled when she spoke.
“Sir the Irodein Empire is closer to what we once were than we like the world to remember. There is allways the looming threat of conflict on their borders and they are seen as using their military to strong arm lesser nations…” She was still in mid flow when the Lord Marshal cut her off.
“A prudent use of force, this what armies are for. It is best we align our selves with nations that understand this.” But Lady Visar was still deeply concerned.
“Sir, if we do go closer to the Irodein’s then we risk isolating the rest of the world. Perhaps the Steam Coalition would join us but it would be three nations against the majority of the rest of the known world. That is not an association I think we can afford to join.”

This back and further threatened to turn into an endless and fruitless debate so the First Lord simply put a stop to it by silently raising his hand and getting the attention of the whole room. Once silence had prevailed he slowly lowered his hand again and spoke.
“It is far too early to talk of alliances with the Steam Collation or the Irodeins. But I want both of them neutral at the very least. I want to know they are not going to opportunistically attack us or combine forces to do so. To that end Visar you are to start compiling diplomatic policies toward both of these nations to further that goal and promote calm and tolerant relations. Once those have been established we can debate where to go from there.” This was a sensible first step and though it avoided dealing with the real issue, the real issue was not something that needed to be addressed right now.

There was only one final matter that needed to be addressed, the soiree in the Steam Coallition. Attendance was a no brainer, it would provide excellent diplomatic opportunities and not to attend would be an exceptionally bad move. The First Lord gave the order for a letter of acceptance to be hastily dispatched to the Steam Coallition, with the thanks of the Great Spirit of the Azera.

The next day, after the wording had been agreed between the First Lord and the Foreign Office, the following declaration was issued to the world.
“The Great Spirit of Azera has noted the regrettable comments made by the Theological Empire of Stellata. The fact that a nation which calls itself civilised would act to condemn an entire people purely because of their religious beliefs is deeply concerning. Such behaviour belongs to the dark past of our world and should have no place in this enlightened age. Every nation on this earth should be concerned by the Theological Empire of Stellata’s fire brand behaviour. For whilst their ire may have landed on the Great Spirit of the Azera today, it will eventually land on every people in this world until only their way of life remains. We therefore call upon the world to join us in condemnation of the Theological Empire of Stellata and their intolerant beliefs. To safe guard our own people, and the peoples of the world, the Great Spirit of Azera has taken it upon itself to rebuke the Theological Empire of Stellata. From midday today a trade embargo is declared on the Theological Empire of Stellata and we would ask all nations to join us in the prohibition of imports and exports to and from this intolerant and prejudiced society. Furthermore, the waters and airspace of the Great Spirit of Azera are closed to the Theological Empire of Stellata and all her peoples. Any vessel which trespasses into our territory will be subject to forfeiture. These measures will be rescinded should a public retraction and apology be made by the Theological Empire of Stellata, one which recognises the validity of other beliefs including our own and is made to its own people as well as the world, in a manner similar to the way their denunciation was given. We close by once again calling on all peoples of this world to denounce the intolerant beliefs and behaviours of the Theological Empire of Stellata which have no place in the association of civilised nations.”

Meanwhile, even as the statement was being broadcast, military preparations were being made. The Grey Isles had always been the heart of the navy and a military hub but the air landing forces and a great proportion of the light and heavy air force were being redeployed to the isles. The marines were already present and a Home Land Army was being marched to port to be put on ships and sent to the isles under escort. Now the Azera would wait for a reaction, and they would wait for a party.

Lucis caput

The celebrations did not last forever, and soon life in the glorious radiant jewel of an empire went on. That was of course expected from the council and their empress. Both of witch had much to do. The main room in the huge Spira stellarum was a massive hall big enough for the empress and her council. The council always sat around a table with the current military commander closest to the empress who herself would lay on top of a balcony looking out over the debating hall. The room was guarded by the finest elite guards the empire had to offer (Often however they where retired officers on a more of a ritual duty). Several statures, paintings and other art master-works hang in this great hall.
''My motion today is one i do find this hall needs to address. The taxes needs to be raised for indeed...'' Khairi waved his hands like a true debater as he walked around the hall
''...Our kin have been paying way to little. Some even say they want to add more money in to our empire if it is the will of the empress. I say most of them say that'' Judeus stood up almost enraged
''This is blasphemous! We can not abuse the faith of the poor to our own gain. The empire is a utopia, the extra iron coins would be to nothing. I dare suspect a certain self-filling lizard amongst us simply want more.'' Khairi waved his hand as to wiff away this statement in to a dustbin
''Our empires military is a mass of flesh. It needs more investment. Our ships are poorly built. they need more investment. See Judeus my friend our empire is perhaps a utopia on the social level but our economy needs a boost!''
''And this so called boost should come from our brothers and sisters on the streets? Are you mad coinsmith?'' The heated debate was just getting in to the personal relationship of the two dragonkins in question before a messenger pooped in. He gave a scroll quickly to Johannes before departing.

''Troubling'' Johannes rose to the tree other beings in this hall
''The heretics of Azera has issued a trading embargo on us and they are asking for others to join in.'' Instantly the room shifted to a very serious tone as Judeus spoke again
''Proves what we said all along. They are false sayers and warmongers. Embargoes are a clear escalation.'' The empress spoke for the first time during these hearings.
''I will speak with the other nations of this world. They will not be so foolish to embargo us.'' Johannes responded
''What about the army?''. The empress rose and gave one of her trademark ''this is not something to get worried about smiles'' across her scales. Johannes simply nodded in response. Khairi however seemed displeased
''The trade embargo will pose a serious treat to our way of living. I say we put more soldiers on our trade barges to make sure that these fools don't interrupt us'' The other two nodded and Johannes wrote that order down.
''What about the kins welfare?'' The empress eluded, her caring attitude often got the better of her
''The kin will know full well that this is a temporary problem. And since heretics are doing it, the kin will rally behind our banner even faster in case they deigned to do anything''

Shortly after the meeting was over, the empress went up to her own special balcony from witch she would and indeed did take off in to the white skies above. She would fly across the heavens night and day, to speak with the other habitants of this world. She would go first to the Steam Coalition and see where she went from there. She was worried, extremely worried what the rest of the nation was going to do..but her fears where dulled by the cold wind as she descended and ascended at random intervals. Almost made her feel young again, back when only dragons like her ruled the world.
''So long ago...''

The heavy guns pounded the landscape. Leaving little room for any formations. The enemy had tried to rout but the artillery kept them pinned down in the open. Men screamed and cried for the horror to be over. And when it finally stopped came the war cries of the young kings army. They ran through the fog, shooting and stabbing the remaining forces. Many gave up and were quickly taken back to the camp. In the end the army that had Four men for every one of the young kings lost horribly. Their troops were given two options. Join the new king, or die. Most were smart and joined the army. It bolstered his numbers and they made good cannon fodder...

Charles woke early as he did ever day. The sun was still deeply hidden behind the horizon. He slipped out of his bed careful not to wake his sleeping wife. He dressed in his changing room, and began his journey to the practice fields. He rigorously trained for an hour, before picking up a sword that was awaiting him as always. Though he was the king many argued that he was possibly the best swords man in the kingdom. He sparred with two of his guard who generally were waiting on the field for him. They practiced for nearly an hour before going inside to clean up.

Later he had a routine inspection of his troops. He visited first, the Collation Infantry. A trip to the country side where their training was conducted. Here he found new initiates practicing, and learning how to shoot. Further down, they trained on hand to hand combat. They wrestled, boxed and fought dirty, next would be their tactics training, they stormed a small fake town. Busting down doors, and fighting off the "enemy" the whole basic training lasted roughly four months, then this training which lasted three months. The product were highly disciplined, trained and deadly general infantry.

Next he inspected the Air Corps, the airmen were being trained in hand to hand combat, small arms, their specific job abored the air ship. They get further training on board their ship. They are taught how to use the parawings to fly to safety though it is a well guarded secret on how they work. He decided to skip over the special project that was in works Something that would give him an edge over many nations.

He would save the navy for another time. Instead he headed home. Where he would inspect the steam guard. The men trained day in and out. Working their bodies to their maxes, they trained with sword and rifle, machine gun to perfect fighting style, accuracy, and weapon maintenance. They wore the very high tech steam armor. Every year it would improve increasing its use. They were generally seen as the originator of such things though some lesser nations still managed to get their grubby hands on it.

Charles had a new idea in store for his military three things would soon Come to be, a new walker, a new special operations unit, and new weapon for the air corps.

He managed to finally get home. His boy surprise attacked him, he fell over dramaticly gasping air " Oh! Noble prince! You have slain the mighty ogre!" The boy was about eight and held a practice sword in his hand he jabbed his father once more. Before running off, Charles stood and chased after him. Little care about the suit he wore. Finally he swept up the child and carried him Into the dinning hall. "Ready for supper little monster?" Duncan giggled "I'm not a monster!" Charles eyed him " Are you sure?" The boy nodded " Alright then. a week till the ball you know, better be on your best behavior or maybe the nice airmen won't let you ride on their ship!"

Tensions were high when the Azera dispatched their diplomatic delegation to the Irodein Empire every man and woman in the team knew just how important this was. The Irodein Empire could be the difference between life and death and whilst this talk was but a humble beginning, a bad start could mean a worse end. The delegation was made of several important people, the two most important were Lady Visar and Field Marshal Malor. Lady Visar was the top diplomat of the Azera and the head of the foreign office. Field Marshal Malor was the head of the army and the second in command of the whole of the armed forces, second only to Lord Marshal Derius. Unfortunately both the First Lord and the Lord Marshal were unavoidably detained in the capitol, overseeing military preparations and the general affairs of the state. If a crisis occurred, both of those men needed to be at the centre of the communications network. They could not come on the trip.

The group was being flown in a specially modified air landing drop plane, a nose and tail gun had been added to protect the diplomats from assault and an extended range gas supply had been fitted. But inside the main cabin there was more space, with reclining chairs and a table. She wasn’t built to drop soldiers, she was built to transport diplomats in a manner that was appropriate to the international scene. Once out of Azera air space the pilots were especially cautious, ever alert to potential threats and particularly an angry dragon. Indeed, in order to avoid an incident the aircraft made a slight detour around Stellata airspace, rather than risk flying through it.

Eventually the group would reach Irodon, and after landing they would disembark. Once the steps had lowered as if by themselves the first person to step out would be Lady Visar. She was remarkable amongst the Azera for her powder white skin. It gave her an odd, ethereal presence as well as a certain exotic appeal, at least in the minds of the Azera. Fair skins were rare amongst their people and there were few fairer than her. Usually she wore elegant gowns and dresses, simple yet striking. Today however, she wore something a little different in tone. She wore a well cut, well-made but unassuming black, double breasted trouser suit with a slight grey pinstripe. Her silvery hair was tied behind her in a loose pony tail and she gave of the image of a no nonsense business woman. She stepped off the aircraft first because she was the most senior person here, in the absence of the First Lord she was the voice of the Great Spirit of the Azera. Everyone else here, even the military, was here to advise and serve her.

Still, the role of Field Marshal Malor should not be under estimated. He was sent largely because the Irodein Empire was so militaristic, he was to be the face of Azera militarism and hopefully establish some form of common understanding on that basis. He had flint grey skin and short cut black hair underneath his officers cap. He wore the black parade uniform of the army, with badges of rank on his collar and shoulders. He was surprisingly unadorned, there was no golden brocade, no brightly coloured sash. The Azera army had always been understated, they let the man do the talking, not the uniform. But the medal ribbons on his left breast hinted at a man who was experienced, courageous and skilled. Such an impression would not be inaccurate. The Azera had not fought a major war in some time but they kept themselves sharp and secretly relished in the rare opportunities to deal with meddlesome neighbouring city states, though diplomacy meant they did not annex these regions. Malor had a sterling reputation amongst the Azera and he had the honour of being the first General ever to command an Assault Army. He had been forced to relinquish that position when being made head of the whole army, but he had generated a cult standing whilst in that roll. Partly because of how good at it he had been but also because the Azera internal PR machine had made a big deal of it. The Assault Army marked a revolution in military thinking, or so the Azera thought, and they were proud of it.

The other lesser dignitaries filled out of the transport and once they were all assembled, with the air crew still inside the aircraft, Lady Visar stepped forward to greet the lead Sanfure representative and introduced herself with both easy grace and confidence. What is more, she spoke seemingly perfect Valeric and even had a noble and upper class accent.
“Greetings. I am Lady Visar the General Ambassador and the voice of the Great Spirit of the Azera and all her people. I extend to you the warm greeting of the entire nation. May I introduce Field Marshal Malor, hero of the people and head of the army. Perhaps you have heard of his exploits.”
Recognising his own name, even in a language he did not understand, the Field Marshal clicked his heels and bowed slightly in deference and respect. Lady Visar however, continued speaking.
“As I am sure you are aware we are here to discuss the state of affairs between our two nations and the growing tensions on the east coast with the Theological Empire of Stellata.”

Governor- Militant Marcus Tybal was there to greet the Azera diplomats once there aircraft landed Tybal walked towards it meeting the diplomats half way with a commissar with him. "Well met Lady Visar and Field Marshal Malor I believe i heard of some your exploits." Tybal replied to them stroking his beard. " I am Governor- Militant Marcus Tybal and this is Commissar Dratch," he pointed over to the commissar next to him. "Come with me there's a room set up for our meeting," the old Sanfures led the group into the Imperial palace as they walked they pasted by staues of Irodein heroes, war monuments, and plenty of banners each with the seal of the empire. After a minute of walking the group arrived at room it was a large room with a long hardwood table in the center of the room with several over Irodeins there already waiting for them. "Please take a seat," Tybal said to the Azera's as he sat at the head of the table. "the Empire thanks you for coming on short notice. The issue it the embargo on Theological Empire of Stellata and tension that is causing. Our concern is about our economic interest in the area should something happen. " the Governor- Militant said starting off the meeting.

The dead littered the village. Orcs, Trolls, and Ogres alike fought with these new creatures, beastly creatures with the symbol of the western lands on them. Many of the creatures would aim at a distance with their long hollow sticks and even the few that came to fight head on would only fall down withering in great pain as an Orcs axe or a Trolls mace smashed into their chest only to get up once again. They were nearly as ruthless as the creatures they fought. Even with their advanced weaponry and their mysterious powers, one by one they would fall as multiple flying axes would embed themselves into the mysterious creatures till they fell down dead. This would be a victory but at a great cost. Many green skinned dead littered the dirt ground, their blood coloring it red. The village was also in ruins…

The room couldn’t be considered a room by many, even the small rural village it was in could only be considered a village by the green-skinned creatures that lived in it. The village itself was built from a collection of wooden and stone huts that looked extremely fragile as they could have been easily thrown together. The room was more of a mostly stone hut located near the western half of the village. It had no windows, a hole in the roof with black smoke curling out, the entrance was covered by a brown animal skin. A troll and an orc were standing by the entrance armed with double-sided halberds and armor covered in steam. Three green-skinned creatures were meeting inside this hut, it was the meeting of the tribes.

“You know as well as I do that many of our soldiers would love to charge into battle with their weapons ready and their hunger for fresh blood boiling. But you also know that we are greatly outnumbered not to mention we know next to nothing about our western neighbors.” says High Chieftain Kaijan as he addresses his two cousins in race and power. He had a giant battle axe slung over his back and dressed in traditional steel armor.

“What do you suggest we do? We can’t exactly let our western border get slaughtered by those beast.” says High Chieftain Xujian, it could easily be considered a grave insult to be called beast by a race that many would consider to be the beasts of the world. “We have to deal with them.”

“First, lets begin with classifying somethings. The Irodein Empire, our rude western neighbors are attacking and have captured a number of villages on our western border, enslaving or killing our people. The beast are a race called Sanfures, a muscular race that seems to have two lives unless you decapitate them. They have advanced weaponry, nothing that our armed forces can’t deal with but unfortunately, none of our soldiers were located on our western border. They also seem to have hard bones as survivors report weapons piercing their skin but they seem to bounce off. This suggest many hard bones.” Chieftain Xomath was always considered the brains of the three leaders as he always has way of getting information and controls much of the diplomatic issues in the tribes and with outside nations. “We would need to station troops there.”

“I will get my soldiers on the border immediately. They will be stationed in every village and even take back a few of the captured ones.” says Kaijan eagerly.

“No, station troops in the remaining villages but do not engage captured villages.” says Xomath to Kaijan. The authority in his voice caused the eager troll chief to sit down. “Chieftain Xujian, I need you to prepare all able bodied men and talk with Trogces to supply every single one of them with a rifle, battleaxe, and set of steel armor.” says Xomath as he directs the ogre chieftain. “I will start talks with nations for help.” The room remained silent for a moment before he spoke again, “Lets say the meeting is over, we need to prepare for the upcoming war.” As soon as everyone left the room, the orc chief left the room and walked over to a nearby house. Inside was a bored looking orc with a pile of scrolls. “I need you to contact the following nations, The confederation of clans, Orsini, and the Empire of Stellata. Tell them that we need their help against the Irodein Empire and Steam Coalition. Return with a list of whatever they need in exchange for help.”.

The armies of the young king rarely lost a battle. For each death they took five with them. In the end the remaining kingdoms met with the new power and signed a peace treaty which is known as the Mercy Pact. They relinquished control and took seats as governors. The steam collation was born.

Stet

The waters around the massive coastal city were never warm enough though they never had a harsh winter. Scientists suspect that there were possible underwater currents that carried cold water from the north down to stet's coast. The navy had a very large presence here, sailors milled about going about their jobs or taking some liberty. There was a small naval base located further down the shore. It was too small for a ship to dock but large enough to house a thousend men. It was well fortified and looked very daunting, massive coastal guns pointed outwards while smaller guns pointed inwards. There were military emplacements everywhere. Though there was no war, it was constantly on a state of high alert.

Lord Byron, was dressed in his physical training gear, which consisted of small tan shorts and a white undershirt that was three sizes to small. The shirt had "instructor" stenciled on the back of it and his name on the front. He was in incredible shape, had short red hair, and a thick red mustache that covered his mouth. His job had been the steam guard advisor for the king, but in recent months found himself on a new mission. His job was pour over almost every record of every military unit and find the best of the best. He had to choose 1750 test subjects. It took him and a staff of ten months to complete their list.

Every man on the list was an accomplished, soldier,Sailor, or airman. They were physically and mentally the best the country had to offer. 250 of the men who did not meet the age standers were to become instructors after going through the prescribed course themselves. The main physical training course lasted five months, it consisted of 10 mile beach runs, push ups, sit ups, laying in the fridges surf, running obstical courses, learning how to work small landing crafts, intense swimming which could range from 5 miles to 8 miles, Under water swimming, weighted swimming, drowning exercises, and any other excerises the instructor could throw at them. Out of the 250 only 100 made it.

Lord Byron of course held a majority of the records. He was a top competitor in most things always striving to be the best. The next portion the other 150 filled. They were taught basic, advanced, demolition, basic shooting, advanced shooting, recon, stealth ops, parawing drops, and survical techniques. These 150 trained the 100 instructors. In the end the 100 were incredibly strong, and lethal. They had survived what most thought the human body could not undergo. And now these men who didn't meet the initial age limit were to train the younger generations.

The first day started out with a list of instructions, basic and simple. How to make their bed, store equipment and if they wished to quit they had to turn in their rifle, and knife. The next day was medical work, and paperwork. The third day started thirty minutes after they went to bed. They began their first course of push ups, until none could stand, next was a two mile run to the swim area, more push ups in the fridges cold water. Next was buddy carries, and drags. Through the next serval weeks they were taught loyalty, the meaning of intense physical and mental pain, and brotherhood. Everyday was different, yet the same. They were verbally abused and many times physically. There were many drops the first two months 800 had dropped. Only 700 remained. They fought hard and long and were now approaching their final month everyone of them almost dead from exhaustion. Only 600 were left.

Lord Byron stood on the wooden walk way along the beach, his eyes drilling holes into the men as they linked arms in the cold water the six hundred were broken down into 50 man groups. Each group had five primary instructors. Byron's group had it especially rough. "Let's go you weak garbage, I've never seen anyone so weak as you. You're the absolute worst! You've been at this for four months And you think you're good enough to graduate first phase? Bullshit! I should send you back to the beginning. You shouldn't be allowed to have it this easy! Let's go! Push up position! Lock arms! 100! Begin!" His voice was naturally loud, and when he yelled it could be heard for miles, so his colleagues say. The men groaned and as quickly as their worn out bodies could they got into the push up position. Most of the time they plopped into the to tired to carry on. Their buddies would shout and scream for them to get up and eventually they would.

He never let them know how proud of his group he was. They were all hard men, strong and brave. In the final three weeks it wouldt be cake they'd be allowed to rest and recover. Every three weeks they got three days off for recovering, grooming, and to catch up on sleep. After the fifth month they would graduate and form the first "Dead Commandos" their information would be wiped clean, their families think them dead for their eight year term after which they would be paid handsomely. The trainees wore similar clothes to Byron, small tam shorts, and white undershirts that were stenciled "Instructee" followed by their number which they were assigned. After this wash, he'd make them run to the chow hall four miles away for a quick ten minute breakfast. So sad it was only 5am.

This was the new special forces of the steam collation.

---

Knights cliff

Lord Charles was getting anxious with all the drama recently happening, a trade embargo, trolls and orcs attacking his ally. Things would be very interesting in the next few days when the ball was to happen. He had roughly six days before such a thing would happen . he had received a letter from Byron informing him about his new troops. And he was pleasently surprised. Of course the drop outs were not allowed to leave until the training was completed.

The delegation dutifully followed on to where they were led. A keen observer may have noticed one aide was seemingly permanently attached to the Field Marshal, noting down almost all that was said. In reality this was a subtle means of translating for the general. His spoke Azeran and Common perfectly well, but Valeric was well beyond his skill. He was a soldier, not a linguist. But he did not look phased or uncertain with the unintelligible words flying around him. This man was used to people trying to kill him and the heat of battle, a few unfamiliar phrases couldn’t shake him.
They took their seats around the table, Lady Visar sitting across from Tybal, the Field Marshal to her right. She was slightly impressed by the hall, parts of it reminded her of home. But she was an international diplomat, she had seen a hundred such buildings. The substance of the talks is what would affect her.

The opening position of the Govenor Militant was plain and uncomplicated, though not unimportant. She appreciated such candour in these talks, and though apparent honesty made her cautious, she was still grateful to see it. It gave her hope for the future relations between the Empire and the Azera.
“I understand your concerns, but you need not be overly worried. Your import market will be unaffected and your export market will benefit.” Her tone was even and matter of fact. Leaning forward slightly she looked Governor- Militant Tybal in the eye as she explained her seemingly extraordinary claims.
“Rising tensions in the region are driving commodity prices way up. Your ships are going to be getting far more profit per load when sailing to other nations in the region and you don’t need to worry about the danger. Stay clear of Stellata waters and the border region and you can travel unmolested. The Stellata lack the power to put any meaningful naval presence in the sea and they aren’t stupid enough to attack you even if they could. Anything you were exporting to Stellata will now of course stop, but diverting that trade to other nations will yield solid additional profits. Countries in the region are buying what they never even bought before, to stock pile just in case. It’s a sellers’ market. The Clipper Trading Company alone is already making massive profits from this embargo. As for your imports, I grant you an unadjusted price for goods from that region will go up significantly. Just as you can raise your sale prices. However, we can adjust the prices to manipulate the market in your favour.”

Leaning back slightly she steepled her fingers. “I know your major imports are fruits, Horses, silks, Spices, and dyes. Fruits and horses we have plenty of, we can export them readily at pre crisis prices. Silks, spices and dyes will require a little more creativity but it can be done. We can import on our north coast at cheaper rates, freight them across the continent and sell them on to you at much the same rate. Our country will suffer some loss from the cost of running the trains but we can easily off set it against our huge export profits from the crisis and your import market will remain unaffected.”

As things stood, this was an absolute gift from the Azera, they were willing to stomach some losses themselves to smooth over relations and few nations were so generous. True, they would still have a net profit from all of this but there were not as rapaciously greedy as most. However, this gift was not truly free, as Lady Visar would now reveal.
“We do not require any financial or material consideration for this gesture, and protecting your economy from the turbulences of the looming crisis. But I won’t lie to you, it’s not free. Nothing in international politics is. It’s very cheap, but not free. The price of this economic protection is your nation joining the embargo against the Stellata and your public endorsement of our denunciation of the Stellata. They are a nation that deserves to be embargoed and denounced. They need to learn how to live in the modern world. We can kill one another for all sorts of reasons, but religion shouldn’t be one of them anymore. Even if you don’t agree with that, the dragon will come for you one day. If she goes unchecked and is able to modernise her military without being taught how to behave, the Azera will merely be the first nation in her sights, not the only one. I am not asking you for a guarantee of military assistance should things get that bad. Merely, a clear declaration of your current position. Are these terms acceptable to you?”

The Republic of Halkirk

The thin, wiry, old man sat behind a heavy dark wooden table in his office. The desk faced the door, and behind him there was a large window overlooking the main thoroughfare of the city of King's Port. Down the road the beautiful ocean could be seen, against the backdrop of a setting sun. His office was dark, a small gas light chandelier of magnificent elegance lit the room, hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the room.

The door in his front swung open, and a short, thin lady, with neck length auburn hair, wearing a dress shirt and an overcoat with a wide, poofy, flanged, but high wasited long length skirt, came through; closing the door quickly behind her.

"Prime Minister?"

The old man didn't even look up, or notice in anyway, his head was down, reading his papers, making notes, mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, cursing soem foreign nations policies, cursing some other trading company for stealing Islander business.

"Mr. Minister... Sir?"

The old man still didn't notice. She walked over, tapping him on the shoulder. He jumped, his small round spectacles fell from his face landing on the table.

"By God! Oh 'tis just you. My dear, what seems to be the matter?"

"A communication has just been delivered, came by telegraph, from our consulate in Azera, I've been told. You've been asked to come down to the conference room."

"Quite right, quite right," his quivering hand reached out and snatched up his spectacles, he folded them up and tucked them into the breast pocket of his jacket.

"Thank you my dear," he said, the two departed the room, into the next. She, took her seat at her desk in that room. He saw himself out of the office, buttoning up his jacket to look more professional as he strolled down the hallway towards the conference room. An attendant opened the door for him, and he entered. It seemed many of the ministers had gathered, some of the generals were there.

"What's all this about?" he asked, sitting himself at the head of the long, rectangular, dark wood, table. "I usually call the emergency meetings, someone explain please."

The rest of the ministers came towards the table, seating themselves in the chairs. They plopped their books, and reports, and files down on the table in front of them. A few o the generals unrolled a large map across the table quite near to the Prime Minister.

His deputy PM took a seat immediately to his right. Joseph was a man much younger that Robert Archibald Cecil, the PM, but Robert had chosen him to be the deputy from the party. He liked his youthfulness, not just because Robert longed for teh days when his hand wouldn't shake, or when his ears could hear, or when his eyes could see (properly), but because he was a hard worker, an up and comer, with ideas that were new, and lofty goals, plans, ambitions.

Joseph also answered Robert "It seem's like there is going to be a war, well at least one."

"More than one war, by God, it's been quite some time since we even had one war, now you're telling me there's going to be two."

Sir William Whitely, a decorated general answered now. "One of those wars isn't much of a concern. Those brute beasts that inhabit the middle of the continent, it would seem their neighbours have finally grown some... err... well... acquired some fortitude and determined to wipe those bumbling savages off the face of the earth. Normal wartime measures as per usual, sell arms to both sides, make money, keep everyone happy. Though, if the Steam Coalition get's involved we may have to intervene in some way."

Robert replied, "Yes, balance of power and all that, can't have our rivals get too much of an edge. I wish those savage mainlanders would get over their barbaric, primitive impulses of holding a grudge. But this other war?"

The Minister of the Department of Commerce, Finance, Markets, and Labour spoke now:

"Sir, the Azerans, they have issued an embargo on the Stellata empire. So far, prices of goods there are rising, but its going to hurt their export markets. We trade with them, if their goods rise in price too much, it could be bad."

"Does the open market now yet?" replied Robert.

"No but tomorrow morning the paper's will run the story. This is sir, as you must know, very unsettling. One nation unilaterally embargoing another, especially given our position as a largely mercantile based society. The generals have advised me, to advise the Merchant Marine to keep our ships sailing. Essentially I've been advised to break the embargo status. I'm afraid that this could have consequences from the Azerans. Primarily, we have some thousand or so merchant sailors currently in Azera, and a number of ships passing through their waters, slated to pass through their waters, or on route for market purposes to Azera. Azera may impound our ships, sailors, and seize our cargo. The military has assured, including Sir Whitely who is present, that we are currently dispatching components from Naval Group Northerland and Group Centre to defend our shipping interests. This leaves perhaps a week gap in the timeline where Azera could impound, detain or seize cargo."

"How should we respond to such an event Sir Whitely?" asked Robert.

"If Azera detains, impound or seizes cargo, we shouldn't consider it an act of war. On the presumption that they release our sailors, vessels and cargo within a time frame of three days. Otherwise, we will be forced to use military force to engage the enemy. We can win on the sea, but the Azeran Air Force is from what knowledge we have of it, extensive. It will be hard fight. Which is why myself, and the other's at Central Command don't believe the Azerans will do something so drastic. Stopping our shipping interests in Stellata to precipitate a war that will cost them, as well as us, dearly in men, material and money. They've got enough of a fight on their hands should the Stellatans escalate, or if the conflict escalates for any other reason."

"So we tow the status quo then? Do nothing, good sirs, I believe it is in our very interest to show the Azerans that a unilateral embargo against a nation will not be tolerated. Such a thing, considering our position, it's intolerable." Robert replied back, with venom in his voice.

"Robert, my friend," replied Whitely, "we fought together against those Coalition primitives many years ago, I would not lead you astray, but escalating to a war, when so far nothing has been done directly to us is frankly a bad play. The Minister of the Department of Commerce has said there is one option we can take. Go ahead Mr. Minister."

The Minister spoke: "As part of the Emerald Bank of Berwick's policy of promoting international trade, we've maintained large quantities of foreign currency in assets, mainly of bills of purchase not physical, at the bank. This was intended to be part of our policy of controlling currency parity round the world, in an attempt to keep our currency at a suitable level where our purchasing piwer was high enough to get goods at reasonable deals, but low enough to not stifle our exports. Now, what we could do is sell our reserves of Azeran Plectars and drive the price of their currency down. Such an action would decrease their purchasing power, and hamper their ability to purchase on international markets. Essentially they would have to spend more to buy things, and other nations would spend less to buy more Azeran goods. Markets are fickle sir, but the logic is sound. We could try to devalue their currency, supposing we make a significant impact, the Azerans might be pacified. Even an announcement of such an action, could cause international financiers to lose some faith in the Plectar."

Robert sat back in his chair, he scratched his semi-bald head, and played with his grey-white hair (or at least what little their was of it) before responding.

"We've to make some sort of action. Announce a selling of our reserve foreign currency assets tomorrow, but do not actually sell yet. Right now, dispatch a telegraph to our consulate in Azera. Tell our diplomatic corps there to initiate a dialogue with Azerans with the intention of resolving this situation. Most importantly I feel we need to speak directly with the Azeran leadership."

Around the table there was a mumbling of approval, and the meeting was over.

The Imperials listen to the Azera's offer and gathered at the far end of the table to discuses it. "I say the trade is fair and we should accepted it," said one of the Irodeins who was dressed in a simple suit, "While I agree it fair we endorser there denouncement and our economy receives a boost. It could draw us into a foreign disputes at a wrong time." said another imperial cutting in. The imperial argued for a couple of minutes before Tybal spoke "that will be enough, I have made a decision." The elderly Sanfure rose to his feet "Very well Lady Visar the Irodein empire agree with your terms. We will announce our endorsement of your denunciation tomorrow." he said to the Azera's delegates.

---

[Irodien held UC village, 12th Caldar legion, 4th regiment]

Colonel Yorgon Schal climbed into his command dug out were he was handed the telegram from one of the imperial signal coreman. "Hold position in-till further notice," Schal read it loud he looked over the coreman "why were we give the order to hold?" the coreman removed his head set "the 10th and 2nd regiment aren't in position yet and have been delayed." The colonel just nodded before turning to the commissar "order the troops to dig in, but have them ready to move at a moments notice." The commissar saluted and left to relay the orders the imperial soldiers outside.

-De quibus fecit cælum-

The mighty port city on the empires coast had always been an jewel in the crown of the immortal empress. The city was a cornucopia of factories and industry where hot white smoke from several huge chimes, the workers working tirelessly with extracting the iron from the depths of the earth it self. Iron was indeed the main metal that the empire extracted, for it was the metal that almost everything was made out of. Wood was a thing for the rich and the priests so most houses where of steel and glass. Around the city there where massive holes in the ground made to extract sand that would burn to just that glass that built the city houses. It was indeed however diffrent here today, for several battalions of Musketeers had arrived together with Blackeye.

Blackeye was there for a reason a very simple one to boot. Since the enemies of the empire had issued an embargo he planned on seeing how ready their where. His crack-troops would join him on the ironclad vessel of ''Brilliant dawn'' together with some other warship, to protect their merchant fleet that was departing for The Great Spirits waters. Blackeye had dusted off his old Civil war armour, a fine construction that still holed up today. The ships themselves where armed with cannons and some had even been blessed with holy flame-throwers. It was a force, not strong enough to take down an entire military strike but strong enough to fight them off until they could get the fleets back in to safe waters. One of the soldiers came to Blackeye
''We are ready sir'' Blackeye seemd to watch the waves far away
''Sir?'' He turned
''If these waves be our end, i hope you have said goodbye'' The kinsmen looked rather strangely on Blackeye
''Shall we start the engines?'' Blackeye nodded and soon the boats where roaring out on open sea.

It was going to be day to remember

When the delegates from the Empire broke for their discussion the whole of the Azera party waited with well masked tension. They all had excellent poker faces, a pre requisite of being chosen for a diplomatic mission, but they were nervous. The nightmare scenario was the Empire drifting towards the Stellata and every offer made in the world of international politics, had the risk of backfiring through an offence that was not intended or a consideration that had been missed. When words of acceptance came the whole group was invisibly relieved, the Field Marshal more than any of them. He was an experienced soldier who knew just how bad wars could get. And he knew a war with the Empire would be one of the worst.

But it was Lady Visar who spoke. “Excellent, I am glad we could reach this understanding. I’m confident it will bring the most easterly and westerly powers of this continent close together.” She seemed pleased at the way things had progressed, but her body language suggested they were not done yet.
“Of course your own region is not without its upheavals. How goes the war against the orc tribes?” It was not a condemnation, but a genuine inquiry. They were keen to learn how the war was going and concerned. They had no doubt the Empire would win, but how quickly and at what cost? The Empire’s answer to this question would also factor in to the next query the Azera had.

You could tell this time they were being more cautious, Lady Visar’s tone was as easy as ever but the words themselves spoke of caution.
“What we have to say next, is purely speculative. We are making this query on the off chance. It bears no real link to the trade deal we have already discussed. And let me assure you, that rejection here will in no way have a negative impact on the relations between our nations.” There was a slight pause as she steeled herself to ask the question. She leant forward, her arms folded on the table.
“We wish to purchase the production licenses for some of your military technology. Specifically, we are interested in your single man portable light weight machineguns, as used by your nxun. Your steam powered armour, as used by your Valdra and the rumoured automatic rifles they have been reported to use. The Field Marshal here, indeed the entire military establishment, speaks highly of these pieces of technology and in covetous tones.” There was a tiny hint of humour in her speech when she said the word covetous, but only a tiny bit. An easy rapport was important but this was still major diplomacy and should be treated as such. Returning to more level tones she continued. “We will not steal this technology, even if we could. Nor will we strong arm you into it. Such behaviour would be contrary to the growth of the budding friendship between out nations.” Interestingly she meant what she said, she really meant it and it showed. The Azera had a dark reputation from a million whispers and outdated prejudices that they were still trying to shake off, indeed such a reputation was an unacknowledged driving factor behind the tensions on the east coast. But anyone could see she was being genuine when she spoke on this topic. “But we would like to buy it. As I said, saying no to this will carry no negative repercussions, but know this. I have been authorised to pay your nation well, either financially or non-financially. We value this technology, we recognise its worth and we are willing to pay a fair price.”

Greenskins were vile creatures, to be sure, but if there was any hope of survival against the combined forces of the Steam Coalition and the Irodiens, it was an alliegance. So, at Raelyn's command, a detachment of Scions and herself made for the United Clans to talk peace. Her demands were simple - no Seraphim get eaten, no Orcs, Trolls or Ogres get blown up or stabbed and they unite against the common threat that threatened to tear both their civilisations apart.

Not that it was that simple, of course. Orcs were, at best, hostile to outsiders, and she found herself having to move with extreme stealth, or fight for her life against a horde of angry and hungry Greenskins. Most were of relitavely little threat - the smaller, faster Seraphim found it far preferable to sprint away from the heavier, stronger Orcs, rather than engage them in open conflict - but they soon found themselves tired, disorientated and frightened. To go back posed as much risk as to keep going. Was it better to fight on than to turn back and retreat?

Raelyn had asked herself that question many times. She wasn't afraid of what happened at home - Arabella and Girus were both intelligent and capable leaders. Nor did she fear her fate if she stayed, as she was even faster than the Scions who accompanied her and far more intelligent than her adversaries. But she couldn't run the risk of her men deserting her, or worse. They had families, children, homes, things that relied on them. The Orcs, on the other hand, seemed to care little about such niceties, at least from her perspective. They just cared about killing and eating.

The troop was hard-pressed to keep supplies and morale high. They stayed off roads, hid whenever they saw or heard something even faintly Orky, and started slipping into villages to steal their food, which was tough and tasteless by Seraph standards. They couldn't risk news of their doing getting to the upper echelons of the tribes before they could explain themselves, which meant stealth was very much a necessary part of their everyday life. This must have been what bandits lived like, Raelyn thought, and for the first time in her life she felt sorry for all the criminals that had been exiled by her commands.

Eventually, the mission was no longer one of diplomacy and more one of survival. They never stopped moving, washed in streams and kept together at all times. Stealing food became a part of everyday life, to such a degree that they no longer cared about their victims. The Orks were brutal beasts, and Raelyn's men quickly adapted to match that brutality. On the few occasions they were seen, they didn't run but fought, using their superior agility and tactics to defeat anyone who dared challenge them. In a large group, they would easily be outmatched, but as luck would have it, the Greenskins who attacked them did so only in groups of three or four. If they even matched the number of Scions, death would be a certainty.

Eventually, they settled down in a forest. Tents were set and sentry patrols were drawn up. There were a couple of villages nearby, which one of the soldiers snuck into to take food from every day. It was mainly meats, and the soldiers ate it heartily - they long since abandoned any principle of distaste or refusal, and now the only questions where when they could get more. They knew it couldn't last but it was their only hope - escape was lost to them, the enemy was on all sides and any notion of diplomacy was forgotten.

"The war goose well against those savages," Tybal answer them, even though 12th Caldar legions has gotten staled in it advance. And the heavy casualty taken by several units in the advance legion. The aged marine listen to what the Azera's asked about production licenses certain military hardware and weapons. "For starters the LMG will not be an issue you will have to pay a royalty to Valkorda arms for every batch of the LMG made. For the steam armor would be an issues, I can't give the newer version of the armor as the demand for those are too high. But I can offered you are civil war era armor for a price it's a bit bulky but it works very well. On the automatic rifles are in short supplies right now and are unlikely to come off that for the foreseeable future," he said responding to the Azera's.

The City of Irodon, Irodein Empire Territory

Leaning back in her chair Lady Visar listened carefully to what Tybal had to say.She was hoping the war was not going quite so well for the Empire, that would have given her a little something extra to negotiate with. But, she was not about to wish defeat upon her new friends simply so the Azera could get a little something extra. However, when it came to the arms deals it seemed as though the Govenor Militant had slightly missed the point. Diplomatic as ever she gave a small hand gesture and said in tones that were conciliatory without being patronizing.
"Paying a certain amount per batch is acceptable for the LMG. Now we have your authorization our Lord for Trade and Industry will liaise directly with Valkorda Arms executives. Once the designs are in our possession we can start equipping our armed forces and Valkorda will get paid per batch. However, you mentioned that the latest versions of the steam powered armour and the new automatic rifle were in too short a supply to be traded. That's the duty of a production license, rather than a conventional trade. Let us worry about making it. What we are after are the designs and permission to make them in our own right. We have the industrial capacity to make armour and weapons. As I said, what we are trying to buy here are the designs and the permission to make them." With a looming war the Azera were unwilling to rely on long shipping routes to obtain these things, they wanted the ability to make them in their own borders. But selling a production licence was a profound sign of trust, particularly if you didn't get all the payment up front. You were relying on the purchaser not to just stop paying you and refuse to stop production. This was why Lady Visar had been so keen to say that neither she nor the Azera would be offended if the Empire refused the trade. She knew she was chancing her arm, but the prize was worth taking the shot.

Last Hope, the Grey Isles, Azera Territory

Sitting in the middle of the vast bay in the east coast were the Grey Isles. On one of these isles lay the bastion of Last Hope. It was a grim and dour city, a reminder from a grim and dour time, a time when they thought their race would die. This was once the Capitol of the Azera and though it had now lost that title it was still a sight to be seen. She lacked the grandeur of Foot Fall, and its beauty. But the squat, grey buildings dug into the rock, and the many military complexes had an imposing quality all of it’s own. This city, these islands, were a defender’s dream and an attacker’s nightmare. The Grey Isles had long been the corner stone of Azera military policy on the east coast, and it showed. The cliffs seemed to have bunkers and trenches dug into them, the few gravel beaches which could be landed on were heavily fortified, the trees had been cut away in the most part to provide clear lines of fire, elevated positions were supported by even more elevated positions and the uneven terrain made air landing a daunting prospect. Little to nothing was made here, but there were huge military harbours, air strips and munitions dumps.

Deep in one of the many bunkers on this island fortress, was the command centre for east coast operations. This was the heart of military preparations in the region, and a man in a blue grey dress uniform was speaking on a telephone. This man was Admiral Farek and he was speaking directly to the First Lord.
“Yes sir….. I understand sir……I will keep you updated sir.”
He put the phone down with a clang, he had just finished updating the First Lord on the Stellata convoy and taking his orders. An airborne patrol had spotted it and radioed it in, but not engaged. To the daragonkin on the waves the plane would have been a tiny black dot in a clouded sky. Only a talented man with powerful binoculars and little luck could have spotted them. To the plane however, the ships were, big lumbering things with huge wake trails which could be spotted miles away. From there it didn’t take long to work out who they belonged to and the fact that at least one warship was present in the convoy. A warship? Was the dragon insane? A warship! Not only was that a clear escalation, to most people that was war. It was one thing to try and break the embargo with essentially unarmed traders. But to stray across an international border, without authorisation, with big guns and hundreds of armed fighters! That was a small invasion!

This would not go unanswered, but the convoy would not be met with armed resistance, yet. She was going to be allowed deeper into Azera territory, monitored at long distance by scout planes. She was being allowed to go wherever she pleased, but if she panicked and turned round or otherwise starting trying to get out of Azera waters then action would be taken.

Turning to one of the many junior officers in the room the Admiral gave his orders.
“Keep the convoy under watch, send battle group L18 to stalk the convoy, stay behind the horizon so they are not seen, coordinate through the spotter planes. Ensure there are enough marines on board for a boarding action. Put a naval bomber squadron on standby and their escort.” He then gave another order, a slightly unusual one and one that had come directly from the First Lord. “Put a camera on a multi role aircraft, photograph and film the incursion from a distance. Get closer shots only on my order.”

Office of the First Lord, Footfall, Snake Tooth Peninsular, Azera Territory

Meanwhile in the City of Foot Fall, the economic threats of Halkirk were currently sitting on the desk of the First Lord. He had just gotten off of the phone with one of his Admirals in the Grey Isles, discussing the Stellata’s most recent transgression. Now, he had to talk about the Republic’s efforts. Not only was he busy with work, but he was also eating, with work being what it was he often took his meals at his desk. There was a bowl of something that looked like a noodles, though of course the Azera called it no such thing. But there was also a bowl of low quality gruel, it was absolute, bare minimum, survival food. It was out of place in the imposing surroundings and next to the comparatively luxurious noodles. But it served a valuable purpose. The Azera had been left on a rock to die, gruel was a rare godsend in the early days. So various senior members of the Azera had taken to eating one bowl of gruel every day, to remind them of a time when they had no gruel. It was unpleasant but the First Lord drank it down slowly, taking care to remember the suffering of his people with every gulp. With this done he set the bowl aside and started tucking into the proper food with far more obvious enjoyment. However, it was an enjoyment obviously tainted by the events of the day.

He despaired at the rest of the world sometimes. War was hurtling towards him because of ancient grudges, out moded beliefs, greed and the pursuit of the fattest profit possible. Were the Azera one of the few, perhaps the only, people on this world to have any real sense of perspective? Still, whilst war with the Stellata now seemed inevitable due to their armed incursion and the inevitable response to it, Halkirk might still be neutralised. All they seemed to care about was money, well they could use that.

To the First Lord’s right was the Lord of the treasury, to his left the Lord for trade and industry. But interestingly, the Lord Marshal was also there, still resplendent in his magnificent white air force uniform. He was here because of a far more concerning part of the picture. A reconnaissance report also lay on the desk, it stated that elements of the Republic of Halkirk’s navy had begun moving toward Azera waters, seemingly to protect trade. The financial threats had been provocative enough, now war ships! It seemed insanity was a common theme today.

The first Lord was pulled out of his musing by the Lord of the Treasury speaking.
“Their financial threat was poorly though through. A weaker currency will only help our export market and make us even more attractive in these uncertain times. We will ship more than enough extra loads to compensate for any reduced real terms profit per individual ship. As for imports, we can live without anything we were shipping in. We have everything we need for our survival and the war effort within our own borders. Statutory declarations can counter the negative effects of currency devaluation on wages.” It seemed the Azera’s previous expansionist policy had paid off, they had intentionally absorbed areas which provided the necessary food and raw materials to sustain a healthy and militarily relevant power even if all import routes were cut off. They could not live in luxury, but they could live. The Lord of the Treasury seemed confident, even slightly smug in his economic analysis and the First Lord tended to agree. Were it to end there then this would be a simple matter.

But it did not end there. It seemed the Republic wanted to trade and nothing was going to stop them. They were willing to risk war and relations in the region for generations, all for the sake of a few measly Emerald Dollars. They could stomach the Republic’s economic threats but what of her military ones. The Lord Marshal was there to answer that question.
“Sir, the fact the Republic are already deploying elements from what we believe are two of their main fleets speaks of belligerence and confidence. I am not sure they will be willing to negotiate. Their army, which appears to consist of three understrength corps, is of no real threat. Even if they landed all three corps on our northern coast a single Homeland army, on a defensive footing, could defeat them. Plus their own homes would be open to attack from other opportunistic kingdoms. They have to know this so the threat of a meaningful invasion is minimal. Their fleet is larger than ours, particularly if you include the merchant marine though that is not a true combat force. Their ships are roughly of an equivalence to ours, though their battle frigates are closer to battleships than their name implies. They also lack any battle cruiser type ships, according to aerial recon any way. Crucially though, their fleet operates without air cover. Rapiers, Invincibles, Titans and many other designs of airship as well as the Light Air force could all operate with near impunity. I would describe our chances against them as strong sir. There are however, two major problems.”
Leaning forward the Lord Marshal put his weight on the desk.
“Firstly sir, we both know how hard it is to assault a well-defended island. Our entire east coast strategy relies on that. We could hold the Grey Isles with a man holding a sharp stick and whilst I doubt the Republic have fortified any of their islands to that extent, aside from a few near the southern end of the chain, each island still poses a significant problem. They may not be able to do us any real harm should they go on the attack. But, if we opt to start invading their islands, it will be slow and costly. I would be confident of an eventual victory but it would not come quickly. Secondly, we would not be fighting them with our full force, troops, ships, airships and aircraft will all have to be directed at Stellata. Fighting a war on two fronts is always a risky prospect.”

“Can we do it?” Inquired the First Lord flatly, he was obviously asking for a plain assessment.
“There are far too many variables sir. But, if the situation remains as it is we could do it. Adopt a defensive position to the north. Harass the Republic, present them with as few targets as possible, use some air power to take a few knocks at soft targets. Meanwhile, throw the majority of our power at Stellata, knock them out of the war quickly, then deal with the Republic. Ideally we could suck in the Steam Coalition as well. It shouldn’t take too much to make them take a pot shot at their old enemy whilst it’s distracted. Of course, ideally we would avoid opening a second front entirely.”

The First Lord nodded silently for a few moments. There was no disputing that last comment, the fewer fronts the better and a war was not something to be eagerly embraced. As the First Lord saw it there was one way to get the Republic out of the picture, they had to appeal to the thing they cared about the most, their wallets. Looking up at one of his aides the First Lord said levelly.
“Call in the highest representative of the Republic you can find. Let’s get this sorted.” Whilst he sounded calm you could tell it was a mask. He was angry, furious that the Republic would do this for such a petty reason. But the First Lord was not done yet. Turning to the Lord Marshal he continued.
“Liaise with the minister for trade and industry, start drawing up a plan for universal conscription and total economic mobilisation. We aren’t at that stage yet but I want to be ready if it comes. If this crisis starts getting any bigger I want every asset and every person of this nation contributing to the war effort. There will be no non-contributory civilians. You also have authorisation to use any means necessary including the command of industry, to turn a Homeland Army of your choosing into a second Assault Army. Begin retraining as soon as possible and see to it those S units start rolling off the production line. Pursue an aggressive recruitment drive, funnel the men primarily into all three branches of the air force, subject to your assessment of our military needs.”

The Lord Marshal simply nodded his understanding, whilst the First Lord looked about at the others in the room. There were no questions, no looks of confusion, everyone knew their task. So the First Lord brought the impromptu meeting to a close.
“You all have your tasks, get to them. And bring me men from Halkirk as soon as possible!”

Orcs, Ogres, and Trolls all marched towards the village. Some rode horses, some wore armor, but all had a rifle slung over their back and an axe in their hand. They weren’t part of the army, but they were just as fierce as the soldiers of the clans because they were protecting their people, their homes, their nation!

If anyone in an airship happened to fly over the lands controlled by the United Tribes. They would see many patches of green moving on the brown earth. These were the soldiers and army of the tribes marching to protect the cities, towns, and villages that were being invaded and were already invaded by the beasts of the west. But even with the massive amount of soldiers and armed citizens, they wouldn’t be able to face off against the forces of the west for they were greatly outnumbered. There was only one hope for the green-skinned people of the United Tribes, that hope was currently wandering the lands of the green-skinned, traveling the unknown land, stealing from the very creatures they hoped to ally themselves with, and becoming like the very creatures they feared.

“Hurry up, we have to get to the village by sundown unless you enjoy seeing our families slaughtered or sold off as slaves.” says a Orc dressed in a weird set of bronze and steel armor, he was just a normal soldier in the army that had lost his armor in one of the many betting places of the kingdom. He was talking to a group of five green-skinned creatures. Mainly orcs like himself but an Ogre was also with them. The rest of the small group grumbled but quickened their pace to keep up with the group leader, Jack, an odd name for an orc, a human name. “I said hurry up. You guys are just getting slower.” says Jack as he sprints ahead into woods.

“Why is he in such a hurry. The village is already secure, we are just backup.” complains a small orc dressed in a set of armor with steam coming out. He was the one that had one the bet against Jack.

“No question. Just listen!” grumbles the Ogre. He didn’t have a name but was the strongest in the group, he was also the most dimwitted but loyal to Jack.

“Hurry up! I found something!” yells Jack. “OOF! I need help right now!”

“What you waiting for. Help Jack” says the Ogre, charging ahead with his steel studded club high in the air. The group charges forward and find their leader cornered against a tree with a number of winged humanlike creatures surrounding him. “Kill chickens. Fresh meat. FOOD!” yells the Ogre, charging ahead. The others seeing no other choice charge too. The winged humans turned around too late, two of them were already clubbed down and the rest were soon forced to the ground. “Cook them!” says the Ogre eagerly.

“Wait! Don’t eat us, we were traveling to your leader.” says one of them.

“Don’t kill them. We are taking them back to the chieftain. He will reward us greatly.” says Jack, smiling crudely.