A song of Goblins and also Goblins, Book I: The Subtitlening

“Start from the beginning.” Had’zrad leaned back in his chair, his fingers pressed together in exactly the way one does when trying to seem interested in a religious ceremony when they’re really thinking about their new girlfriend.

“We…. were part of the exploration guild. It was our first expedition into the sewers under Altairis. We had no Idea what we were getting into, we swear.” Phalthuun was shaking, buried beneath a blanket roughly the consistency of the average mammoth hide, only it probably smelled a lot better. Phalthuun, however, cared not for how the blanket smelled, for the presence of the armed guards beside him who had arrested him for climbing nearly naked out of a manhole hours earlier brought him a degree of comfort unbeknownst to the average Imperium rabble. Phalthuun was lucky to be alive.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” decreed Had’zrad, who began to scribble some notes onto a piece of paper that only probably had anything to do with the ravings of the mentally scarred explorer, “I’ve heard the goblins down there are utterly savage monsters. It was probably foolhardy to expect anything could be gained from trying to comprehend them. No sane man seeks to understand madness.”

-Seven weeks earlier-

Oreila was utterly extatic. It had only been three days since her grant ran through and she was able to assemble her first expeditionary team. Despite the warnings and concern of her colleagues, the only thing Oreila could think at the very moment she displaced the manhole cover was what fantastical wonderland of sub-elven cretins she was about to elevate into civilization.

Her guard captain, Phalthuun Adszraadh, was the first to descend the long ladder into the sewers beneath the bustling market district of the city of Altairis. The echoing sound of his confirmation that the main access line seemed clear of hostile parties was the dinner bell for the six others in the crew besides Oreila to begin their descent into the labyrinth of waste tunnels wherein it was understood that a great many goblins dwelt. Of the party, only one, the cartographer, had any sense of where they would be going.

“Four crosslines down is where we found the first excavation.”

The cartographer’s directions were gibberish to Oreila, who was an anthropologist, not a civil engineer. Therefore, it only made sense to trust their guide, and true to his word, after a short walk down a fetid pipe with a flowing cesspit of putrid sewage slowly dribbling along mere inches from their feet on the walkway, they found a hole. The hole itself seemed crudely mined, with a great many jagged edges and with few support beams. The two guardsmen whose names weren’t Phalthuun, and whose ranks weren’t captain were ordered to assist in clearing the great many cave-ins that dotted the snaking tunnel. The path itself ran for what felt like at least a mile until it opened into a sizable cavern which, by conventional geology, probably shouldn’t be possible.
The cavern’s geography was the least notable feature of the area, however, as standing roughly in the middle of the clearing was a small, childlike simian figure.

The most perplexing thing about this creature was that no matter how many times they called to it, it would only momentarily notice them. Immediately afterwards, it woud get distracted by the dripping of water, the presence of some rat or insect, or simply its gaze would gradually drift upwards until it was entranced by the very presence of a ceiling above its head. Every time it would see the explorers again, it would be just as surprised as it was the very first time it saw them. Never in roughly a one-minute period did it approach them, until Oreila brought out the candy bar.

The producing of the small chocolate treat seemed to get the creature’s attention in a new and profound way. Its crooked and hilariously long nose oscillated rapidly as the thing wobbled its way over to Oreila in a childlike manner. It stopped once its nose was only a few inches from the candy bar, which respectively was pierced on the end of a short spear that only seconds before had been carried by one of the guards whose names were not Phalthuun and… you get it.

“Hey little monster! Do you want a sweetie?” Oreila’s voice was such that any elven child would’ve immediately seen through her half-assed attempt at masking her prejudice.

“Dazza fud?” Belched the creature.

“Oh my! You possess the affinity for language! Do you have a name?” Oreila’s suddenly honest curiosity was equaled by those others, who crammed their heads of various sizes and baldnesses beside each other in exactly the way canned sardines might take a selfie. This more facilitated everyone’s discomfort than an actually genuine improvement on their ability to see the creature. Out of raw fear of the unknown, nobody really cared that much.

“Dazza fud? Iz a eet?” Elaborated the creature, growing increasingly curious but still seemingly cautious enough of the elves so as not to do anything too brash.

“Yes, you can eat…” Oreila was cut off by the near instantaneous chomping of the creature onto the chocolate bar exactly a quarter of a picosecond after the word ‘yes’ was pronounced. The force of the creature’s bite significantly deformed the spearhead. The creature didn’t even chew it, simply swallowed it, licked its lips, and then immediately turned to walk away.

Oreila insisted that the party follow the creature as it began travelling along another snaking tunnel that led out of the cavern. All the while the rest of the party was trailing many meters (and maybe a few yards) behind the diminutive goblinoid, Oreila was enthusiastically interrogating it. Over the course of about 20 minutes, she was able to deduce that it was some form of small goblin called a “grem”, its name was “Igglesplunt”, and it thought the candy bar tasted worse than a hat, but better than “soup”, which she came to understand was their word for anything they found in the sewer water.

Around the time the epiphany about the meaning of soup graced Oreila’s mind, they entered another cavern that was aglow with activity. A virtual horde of grems were awork toiling, constructing some form of statue which resembled an elf, but insofar as someone who had only ever heard descriptions of elves could possibly construct an effigy of such a being. The visage of the statue, which was composed of a great many pieces of trash, sections of dirt, what looked to be actual mortar, farming equipment, and a few grems accidentally nailed into place both flattered and appalled the party. It was only shortly after discussing exactly how blasphemous this statue was when the second guard whose name wasn’t Phalthuun (here forward to be referred to as guard #2) noticed that Igglesplunt had disappeared into the mass of gremlins who were constructing the elf statue.

The ramifications of this were that the party began to attempt communicating with the sea of seemingly oblivious grems, whose attention was completely fixated on basically everything but the elven explorers. This annoyed Phalthuun, as never before in his life had anyone or anything dared not to notice how important he looked. Upon expressing this to the cartographer, however, he came to care a bit less because after realigning his concept of the grems to be more or less equivalent to insects, a certain acceptance of their ignorance was achieved.

Around the time the party began getting seriously frustrated with their inability to draw the attention of any of the grems, a new form of creature approached them. It looked like a grem, but was about five feet tall, seemingly skin-and-bones, covered in acne, and had a nose roughly the length and shape of a pistol. Even the least empathetic of all uncivilized beings could comprehend from a mere glance at this creature that its very existence was depressing and it was, in every way, miserable.

“Wow. You’re so pretty. Can I look at you? Is that okay? I’ll gouge my eyes out if it isn’t.” The creature’s voice was a whimper that would overshadow a kicked puppy.

“Oh, well I do suppose you could avert your gaze a bit, but moreover please inform me on what manner of creature you are? You are more articulate than those things I take are called ‘grems’! Are you a goblin? What is your name?”

Oreila’s machine-gun-esque questionnaire momentarily frazzled the creature who, after covering its eyes most completely (though occasionally peeking through its fingers to make sure it wasn’t actually talking to a wall), began to compose itself and provide adequate responses. From this exchange, which lasted around 10 minutes, the party managed to uncover a great many truths about the nature of goblin kind. Firstly, the small, illiterate creatures currently assembling the statue in the present cavern were in fact called ‘gremlins’, the creature they were speaking to was a ‘hobgoblin’ named ‘Seventy-seven-spoons-and-one-rusty-fork’, and there was one other sub race of goblinoids referred to as ‘bugbears’, which seemed to be the leaders. One such bugbear individual, whose name apparently was ‘She-who-mispronounces-the-word-chemistry’, acts as the queen of sorts of this particular goblin tribe. ‘Spoons’, as the shy hobgoblin came to be called, agreed to offer them an audience with the bugbear, who the elves demanded simply be referred to as ‘the one in charge’.

Spoons led them through yet many more tunnels, all comparable in a great many ways to that first crumbling passage which was their proverbial rabbit hole. It became readily apparent that goblin architecture had no real rules, consistency, and for all intents and purposes probably shouldn’t work. Over the course of the hours it took to get to the throne room, the party witnessed a great many instances of such architecture failing miraculously, and in most cases resulting in the deaths of a great many gremlins. What seemed to Oreila to be completely bizarre, however, was the fact that any gremlin who witnessed another’s death (or any form of violence or tragedy for that matter) would break out in utterly hideous and contagious laughter.

Other revelations were that the only reason the gremlins were working on the statue was that it happened to be Tuesday, and that on all other days the gremlins simply mulled about causing mayhem for their own entertainment. Spoons couldn’t explain exactly why the gremlins found violence to be so hilarious, and expressed grief over their senseless deaths in an almost paternal manner. Occasionally, gremlins would approach Spoons, referring to him as ‘Mizta Hob’ and asking him to assist them in a great many simple activities such as buttoning a shirt that clearly didn’t fit them, holding a hammer the right way, and most often of all: wanting to know if it was still Tuesday.

Anyhow, the aforementioned throne room was eventually reached. The exact appearance of the throne room is irrelevant because the presence of the absurdly huge goblin in the center of it atop a structure only vaguely resembling a chair of any kind, much less a throne, was more significant than any of the room’s other qualities. This enormous goblin, who was obviously the leader previously referred to as ‘She-who-did-something-Oreila-didn’t-really-care-about’ grew immediately angrier than she seemed initially, as evidenced by the rapidly increasing pace at which she was flailing hapless gremlins about in an effort to paint the ceiling with their brain matter.

Her voice was like a normal voice except really loud: “God-finder! How day ya find God and friens on a Tuesday! Thas da mose-most not really holy of day!”

“I am most sorry my mistress. Shall I feed my entrails to the gremlins in an effort to make up for my sins?”

“Uh… wuts a end rail? Do I gots wunna doze?”

“It shall be done, my lady.” Said Spoons, rapidly exiting the room in a backwards pace whilst simultaneously bowing and weeping violently.

“Okay, sure, God-finder… have fun witcha end rails.” Once Spoons had finished exiting the room in a most dramatic fashion, the bugbear spoke again, much to the continued bewilderment of Oreila and the others. “Ennyway, hi God. Thanks fer goin outta my dreems. Hope ya got all my letters I rotecha on da seelin so youz and ya frenz could see em.”

A moment of quiet puzzlement and contemplation passed, then Oreila spoke: “Er… I…. might not have gotten all the letters? Can… you show them to me so…. I can be sure?” Oreila was utterly confused and at this point, horrified at the seemingly mad, seven-foot-tall wall of muscle and drool which was immediately in her presence and referring to her as ‘God’. A quick survey of the others confirmed her suspicions that they were similarly terrified. Even Phalthuun, who carried a rifle of exquisite make, gave her a glance which could mean only have one possible interpretation: “I have absolutely no intention of using this stupid fucking pea-shooter. It’d only make her angry.”

“Oh, sure, no prollum, God! Come on, I’ll show ya the letter room!”

The party followed the bugbear in exactly the same way people who aren’t scared of enormous monsters with god complexes don’t. The journey took about two and a half seconds because evidently, the letter room was directly adjacent to the throne room. The room was more or less a room, save for the fact that the ceiling was adorned with a great many carved boards, bits of paper stained with shit, various clothes that might’ve been white at some point (as evidenced by the fact that they’re currently still actually white, if a bit muddy), and all of which were covered in writings and drawings of various degrees of legibility.

A common theme across the texts was the idea that the bugbear was eagerly waiting the arrival of a tiny godlike creature which will usher in a world in which it is Wednesday forever, or possibly Tuesday forever, either is really okay. It must be emphasized exactly how truthfully okay this was: the bugbear seemed to really only care that the decree of which day it will always be will end the incessant questioning by the gremlins of whether or not Tuesday is over yet. Perhaps most disturbing, however, were the various depictions of the goblins, as well as the godlike figure, eating the other figures depicted as similar to the godlike figure, though all were shown to be naked and with embarrassingly small genitalia.

“I was start to wory that you couldn’t see the letters up in Godland, even though I put em on the seelin for ya ta see em better. Cuz yaknow, Godland is up high and all.”

“Oh, yes, excellent. Uh… I need to… talk with my friends. About whether it should be Tuesday or not. Over there. With you not over there… so if you could just go sit in the other room and keep playing with the gremlins we’ll have a good answer in just a minute!”

“Oh, I knew you’d say that. You seddit in muh dreem! Look… uh… yeah rite dere! I drew it fur ya with a pensel that stick-guy found!” The bugbear then pointed at a mural which depicted the god figure saying a bunch of words that don’t make any sense, followed by the goblins tearing the other god-like figures into small pieces, in most instances using forks and occasionally a wheelbarrow. Before the party had any time to react, the bugbear grabbed Oreila with one hand and lifted her off of the ground, cheering, roaring, and demanding that the other goblins: “Come getchur God-friend dinner!”

In the ensuing chaos, the cartographer was summarily divided into at least fourteen pieces over the course of about three hours, as it was understandably difficult to cut an elf apart using only a wheelbarrow. Guard #2 was killed instantly. Everyone else who wasn’t named specifically died a similarly gruesome death. Phalthuun, however, successfully fled the moment the melee began.

With the help of his ‘stupid fucking pea shooter’, he was able to carve a bloody path through the seemingly endless waves of gremlin warriors who, despite their childlike demeanor, were about as effective in combat as actual children. The roars of the bugbear echoing behind him, eclipsed only slightly by the alternatingly horrified and outraged screams of Oreila, Phalthuun wandered a great many tunnels of an increasingly abandoned state, until such a point that he could no longer hear the aforementioned roars and screams. This brought the captain no comfort, however, as his favorite shirt was now ruined, the only other competent colleagues of his on this expedition were either captured to be worshipped as God figures or summarily killed for the purpose of devouring.

That said, he never really liked guard #2, and that very thought kept him sane for the seven weeks it took him to find the nearest man hole cover. During this period, he managed to survive by eating three of his own fingers, his left ear, five bullets, an unknown and possibly unknowable quantity of sewer rats, three gallons of raw sewage (but not particularly stinky sewage), and whatever water he could collect from licking condensation off of the ceiling.

-Present Day-

Following Phalthuun’s vague directions, the rescue squad were able to locate the goblin colony Phalthuun and Oreila had made contact with. Surprisingly, the goblins were nowhere near as hostile as the nearly insane captain had made them out to be. A few minutes of exploring led them to a rather anatomically accurate statue of a very beautiful elven woman around which a great many goblins of one shape and size (simian and small) were bowing and possibly praying. While they were in the process of confirming that last part, a gangly creature approached them, addressed itself as ‘You-won’t-believe-this-but-its-actually-a-whole-outhouse-I-found-in-the-water-just-over-there’ and told them that: “God said you’d come. Unfortunately, she doesn’t not grant audiences on Wednesdays, as Wednesdays are the holiest of days for us goblins.” The squad captain attempted to inform the creature that it was in fact Tuesday, to which it responded: “No it isn’t. It’s never Tuesday. Not anymore,” and walked away sobbing and muttering to itself about how it doesn’t have a birthday any more.

This failed to prevent the rescue squad from continuing to explore the goblin colony, all the while being vigilant of the veritable ocean of small goblin creatures who seemed to be doing absolutely nothing important at all. Eventually, they heard a voice that was far too eloquent and well mannered to belong to a goblin. Following the voice, they came to a chamber wherein an elven woman, presumably Oreila, was wearing only a tattered Yllendyr Imperium flag as a scarf. She was talking to a rather monstrously large creature about how exited she was that tomorrow was Wednesday, which apparently meant she would finally get a day off of work. The large creature seemed to agree completely, and quickly segued into a philosophical debate about whether or not shirts should be considered an endangered species. The elf argued that they should, but that continued conservation efforts might eventually allow them to continue breeding to a point at which their population will become self-sustaining.

Upon returning to the surface, the squad captain rather quickly thanked her men for their heroic efforts in preserving the safety of the Imperium, entered her office momentarily to write a report on the results of the rescue operation, and minutes later, entered her boss’s office with an envelope containing said report. The boss thanked her for the report, and sent her on her way. It took a while for the boss to get to the report which, to his surprise, was simply a single sheet of paper with the words “she’s gone”, written in plain print with black ink.

Gideon was a long way from home. Then again, at this point, did he even have a home? It occurred to him that he had hardly even considered what he might do in the event that his impulsive plan succeeded and his military career enabled an early retirement. Perhaps he wouldn't even return to his city in Aurelia; there were probably nicer and warmer beaches elsewhere, where the smokestacks of factories didn't taint the salt spray and give it a sour taste.

He sat by himself and mulled over all this in silence. It would probably be good for his sanity to act more sociable, but it wouldn't be long now before mealtime. He could talk to his fellow soldiers then. In the meantime, he found his eyes drifting down to his hand and to the ornate ring upon it. For what must have been the thousandth time that month, his mind replayed the memory of just how he'd wound up with it.

---

The windy air on the ship's crowded deck was cold, for they were still in the lower latitudes. But anything was worse than being stuck below deck. Even on a ship as large as this, it was easy for the gentle rocking to make a man sick if he tried to stay holed up in his quarters like a rat. The sight of some others vomiting off the side of the ship reminded him that it wasn't much better up here, but he tuned out the disgusting noises before they also made him sick and so he pushed through the throngs of people and found his way to another part of the deck. He came to the edge of the ship and leaned against the railing, trying to follow some sailor's advice and find something still to stare at. There was nothing around except the gently bobbing ship itself, the rolling waves below, and the sky. The ship and the waves were of course the last thing that he should have looked at since their constant motion would only make the sickness worse, so he found himself looking up to the clouds. They weren't quite perfectly still, but staring at them was probably a better bet than trying to look at the sun.

Gideon might have despaired at his circumstances then, but moping wasn't in his nature. He stared and stared, trying to find shapes and faces in the clouds. Then he jumped with a start when someone else came to join him and leaned against the railing only a few inches away. The boy naturally spun to look at the stranger that had approached. The stranger was a well dressed and aging man that nonetheless projected an air of elegance in that way that only the wealthy and powerful could manage.

"Ah, hello there," the man spoke. His words were are crisp and clear as the cold skies, but they carried a subtle hint of something else much like the air here tasted of salt. The man's voice had the faintest hint of an accent, but it sounded like none that Gideon had ever heard before, much less one that he could recognize.

Gideon was silent for he didn't know what to say; a few awkward moments of silence passed by in the blink of an eye. Fortunately this man had the social grace to break the silence and brush away the building tension. "I couldn't stand it up there," the man had finally gone on to say, gesturing up to the much less crowded upper deck that was reserved for first-class passengers. "I can see how grand it looks from down here, but it's just another deck. And the people there make poor conversation."

Conversation? That's what the man had come down here for? Gideon thought for a moment, then tried his best to indulge the stranger. "So...what brought you onto a ship heading to Yllendyr?"

The hint of a smile crept onto the man's face as he offered some vague answer, "I have some friends there that I must catch up with."

Gideon didn't think much of the answer; he found himself more bewildered with how this person had friends in Yllendyr, and how a lower class person like himself had even come to speak with such a plutocrat. He snapped out of his momentary daze to see the man's inquisitive eyes peering deep into his own; without speaking, the man had returned the question.

"I'm going to join the elves' military. I might not like it, but it's better than moping around and lamenting a circumstance that I could change."

Gideon realized that without even consciously thinking about it, he had tried to make himself look sophisticated. Lamenting? He never spoke like that! Had he even used the word correctly?

"Ah, intriguing...see, you're already proving to be a more interesting conversationalist than any of those arrogant fools on the upper deck. Tell me more."

Over the next minutes Gideon somehow managed to offer his name, his innermost thoughts, and more or less this entire life story to the stranger before he'd even realized it. All the while the strange man had still revealed next to nothing about himself, and aside from the occasional brief quip or reassuring smile, the plutocrat had done nothing but listen and allow the boy to pour his heart out.

When Gideon finally found himself once again telling the story of how he'd come onto that very ship and of how he was going to enlist in the military, the proverbial curtains closed. Once he stopped speaking for a few moments and let silence reign again, he looked closer at the man and saw him just staring out into the sea. Had he even been listening?

"You're more remarkable than you give yourself credit for, Gideon. Perhaps you'll do well in life."

"Uh...thanks, sir?" he stammered. Meanwhile, the stranger had stopped leaning against the railing and reached for one of the many rings around his fingers. Each one looked exquisite and was probably worth more than Gideon's life.

So imagine his surprise when the man removed one of those rings and held it in an outstretched palm towards Gideon. "Take it," he intoned. "A gift to you, for telling such a good tale."

The boy immediately grew suspicious and backed away half a step. "Thank you, but I couldn't possibly..."

"It isn't stolen," the man said, practically reading Gideon's mind. "Let me make this easy for you: take it, or I'll throw it into the sea." He held the ring over the railing and toyed with it, gently laughing.

It was worth far too much for that; the part of Gideon that had always been poor screamed at him to accept the thing, and just like that he found it placed in his hand. It was only then that he could examine it closely: it was a band of solid, gleaming gold. Decorative swirls and patterns wrapped around it, but it was the signet that caught one's eye: a large, oval-shaped ruby was set into a circular plate. It looked almost like a red eye.

"It's very valuable. I hope you'll have the sense to keep it for yourself; in these days, there are no honest men. I'm afraid that no merchant or jeweler would offer a fair price to a young man like you. But that's just as well; you should keep it, wear it, treasure it if you're going into the military. It's always given me good luck."

He stuttered, "Th-thank you." Then he looked down into the ring and its ruby, "But where did you get it?"

There was a faint chuckle for an answer. Gideon thought that he heard the man utter, "Anhreich." He looked up even more bewildered, but his new acquaintance was gone, already vanished into the crowd. Gideon was left alone, and for the rest of that long sailing trip he'd been left to wonder if his ears had played tricks upon him. Things did not come from Anhreich, nor go to that place if they could help it; that was a cursed land where ghouls walked and men burned one another alive. Surely something so beautiful as this ring couldn't have come from there?

He never did see that strange man again.

---

Gideon was still brushing his fingers over that ring upon his finger when the bells rang out. Reluctantly, he made his way to the mess hall. He found himself sitting down at some table with some other humans, an orc, and some snide-looking young dark elf woman. Finding himself not much in the mood for conversation and the others likewise quiet, Gideon resigned himself to silence until the dark elf finally asked why everyone else was so quiet. Much to Gideon's shock, one of the other soldiers pulled out a radio, and when Gideon heard the news he was just as shocked and bewildered as Lunastri.

At least he could find some humor in how the radio tried to take an objective stance. At least there were still some honest people, though to be honest it probably wouldn't be long before whichever side of the civil war controlled the radio tower had those truthful operators replaced with propaganda speakers. Gideon supposed that those reporters might even be shot for something along the lines of treason; he couldn't imagine that either Olarth or Ecruir would appreciate the other side being portrayed in anything but the absolute worst light. That the Sentinels of all people would stay out of the fighting was another irony that was beyond laughable!

Gideon could hardly eat. He excused himself to some quiet corner, then fell on the ground laughing in morbid humor. "This shouldn't have been my fight! I might have to die for one of those fucking 'emperors' that slay their own kin, and meanwhile the Sentinels won't even be lifting their fingers," he muttered to himself. He looked down to his ring. "I hope you really do bring good luck."

11th of Sun’s Dawn, 5th year of the Gwangyeong Era (February 11th, 4901 YDC)
Imperial Capital of C’hung-jin

“Goddamnit! Get to the damn point, Min! You can’t just call us all the way from the four corners of the Empire and waste our time with this!”

Those words set the men and women gathered around the intricate table up in arms. There were five of them in total there, if we include the one shouting, known to the group simply as Mae-da. He was a man that could definitely be considered unnatural in every sense of the word. Snow-white hair accompanied by near blood-red irises and skin as pale as a damnable strigoi. The sound of his fist slamming the table would make it painfully obvious he was not in a good mood.

Opposite him sat Min Ru’sa, the leader of the group. She was a woman that could best be described as playful and nonchalant, yet had desires and aspirations unrivalled. Brushing aside a lock of her brown hair from her face, she rose in her seat and gazed at Mae-da.

“Now, now, I’ll get to it in a moment, alright? I just wanted to catch up with the rest of you four first! Go’jun shipped us off individually to the every frontier in the Empire to deal with Strigoi problems and inspect candidates for the Imperial Mages. This is the first time our little group of Mage Commanders have seen each other in over a year!”

“You know, Min...we’ll have plenty of time to catch up after this. It wouldn’t hurt if you just told us why we’re here in the first place.” The second voice of discontent came from Zhu Rae’in, leaning ever closer to the table.

“Why we are here?” He asked, left eyebrow raised.

“Fine! I’ll just get to the point…” Min snapped back at him. “The fact of the matter is that the Gwangyeong Empress is sending an envoy to the Far East. I think I mentioned this to you before Zhu…” She rubbed her forehead slightly as she struggled to recall the name of the country in question.

“Y...llendthyr. I think that was what it's called."

“‘Yllendyr’” is what you wrote to me in your letter.” corrected Zhu

“Right. Yllendyr. The Yllendyr Imperium. The Empress is dispatching Duke Xen V Huo-ming on the Imperial Flagship, Y’ang-wei to travel to the Far East to make treaty with the Yllendyr Emperor. Go’jun wrote to me requesting that I consult with all of you and pick someone to accompany me in escorting Duke Xen on his journey to Ylleria.

“A journey...to the Far...East?” asked a fourth voice. The group turned to see Lin Ha’en staring at a map she had recently placed onto the table. Both Zhu and Min rolled their eyes to hear her speaking in such a staggered manner.

Mae-da laughed upon hearing Ha’en speak, “Prepared too many spells and can’t be bothered to keep track of what the last segment of the invocation phrase was again, Lin?” The rest of the table let out light chuckles before huddling around Ha’en to examine the map.

Min couldn’t recognize the design nor the script in which it was written but if she had to guess, Ha’en bought it in Cantha after meeting some merchant from across the seas. It wouldn’t be completely out of the question, given that Lin was assigned to deal with Strigoi sightings in the peninsula southeast of the port city.

Wei Wu-myeong, the odd man out finally spoke up at last. “It’s quite a distance, isn’t it? I’m not sure what the scale of this map is, but it would take atleast half a month to cross the Great Ocean by my estimate. And of course, the Yang-wei is the only vessel we have constructed so far capable of surviving Kraken attacks with a full degree of certainty, so bringing along the lesser steamboats is risky. I suppose the Yang-wei would simply need to be loaded with an obscene amount of coal to fuel the journey.

Zhu shut him down before he could derail the conversation any further. “Beyond the point, Wu-myeong. That’s for Go’jun to sort out. There should be outlying island ports at which to refuel. It’s not like the Yang-wei is going to make a beeline straight for the Yllendyr Emperor’s capital anyway.”

“Right you are Zhu, sorry about that.”

“Anyway…” Min butted in, “Who’s going to come with? It’s a given that I’ll be accompanying Duke Xen, so I’ll need someone else to go as well.”

“Wait...a second...who decided that?”

“Myself, obviously~!” She said grinning. “Now who else wants to go? It’s down to either Zhu or Mae-da really. Wei being the eccentric that he is, he’d probably try to mind control and pluck information out of whatever poor peasant he sees as we approach the capital. And despite what Lin says, she’s going to hit the words in the right order for her invocations eventually, and I’d rather it not be on the boat, or when we’re in the presence of the Yllendyr Emperor. I don’t even want to try explaining away that incident when it happens.”

Both of them crossed their arms in protest to Min’s rather blunt statements, but eventually sighed and resigned themselves to it. It’s not like they wanted to go in particular anyway. Well, Wei did, if only out of sheer curiosity to see what the civilized domains of the Far East were like.

Zhu was next to reply “I have no interest in travelling East. My men have uncovered the hiding place of a rather troubling Gerudo bandit chieftess encroaching on the northern steppe towns. As such, I will have to take my leave soon to deal with her.”

“Guess I’m the only one left huh?” Mae-da shrugged before turning to Min. “Guess I’ll come with yer. Could use a break from killing Strigoi anyway. Not much of a challenge anymore when you’re nearing your hundredth. Just don’t expect me to be much good talking to royalty. You know how I am.”

“Definitely. You’ve never been one for more formalities than necessary, really. That settles it then. I’m going to charter a steamship to take the two of us down to Cantha to meet with Duke Xen. Meet me at the docks tomorrow morning, alright?” Min said as she turned around to grab a brush, ink and parchment to write down the details of the charter.

“Alright Mae-da?”

Silence.

“Mae-da?”

She could hear the sliding doors shut behind her.

“Wait! You’re all leaving already?! Not gonna spend an evening catching up over a game of Sho’ji?”

Northern Mountain Range:

Over the past 61 years Vaspenians with the dream of restoring their nation to its former glory have fled to these mountains as a place of refuge, at first it was only a few here and there hiding out in the many caves and crevasses. But as their numbers grew a particular individual stood out among them, never giving out his name, only asking to be called “Herr General”. Single handedly he organized all of these small resistance groups into a large organization that would stand the test of time. Initially the group was only focused on entrenching themselves within the mountains, excavating large complexes within the mountains, these complexes would become known as the Bächer Citadels. Most of these citadels consisted of living quarters, a small armaments factory, and multiple bunkers camouflaged into the sides. While the larger ones also included command centers, and troop training facilities. These citadels were built all over the mountain range in relative secret.

1850:

During the excavation of one of these many citadels, the miners unexpectedly found an underground cave network that expanded out almost endlessly. Seeing this as a great opportunity Herr General ordered the tunnels be mapped to the finest detail. As these tunnels would be a massive help to transport supplies to other citadels without exposing the transport columns to the possible scrutiny of Yllendyr. After a detailed mapping some of the teams reported back that they had seen many other paths that went deeper into the earth, when approaching these passages hieroglyphs would be noticeable on the walls with what looked like warning signs. Retracing their steps they would occasionally see more of this writing on the walls of the passages and other caves. The mapping teams also had the feeling of being watched while exploring the caverns, occasionally hearing the scurrying of feet, or clanging of metal on stone. Taking this information Herr General decided to have the hieroglyphs analyzed while cautiously proceeding with the plan to expand the underground tunnel network. In this way all of the citadels were interconnected with each other, soldiers were posted at the entrances to the tunnels 24/7 to keep a constant eye out for possible trouble from what were now called the Cavern People.

1860:

After a decade of convoys entering and departing the caverns a ritual had been conceived by the crews. Everytime they would leave a citadel for the next one, typically a 1-2 week trek by horse and carriage, at the first of these “Deep Passages” they would set out some trinkets such as dolls, toys, the occasional candy bar and such. Kneel down and pray for a safe passage through the caverns without rockslides, cave-ins or simply getting lost deep within the maze. After which the crews would leave the site and press on with their journey. If they came to a crossroads in which they were not sure which way to go a barely audible clanking noise could be heard from one of the tunnels heading towards them, progressively getting louder until it stopped just out of their vision. Then two red lights would turn on in the darkness, flash, turn back off, turn around and go back from whence it came. This would tell the crews which way not to go, as those that tried to follow the machine would reach a dead end. Those that did not offer up a tribute to the Cavern Guides would experience this phenomenon and may encounter trouble in the passages.
After a decade of watching this go on Herr General has ordered some peaceful expeditions into the Deep Passages to determine the entities behind this. At first as the expedition explored deeper into the caverns they would move slowly, constantly finding evidence of Living beings. First contact with the “Cavern guides” came about 4 months later.


February 1901

Rebel High Command: Herr General sits at the head of the table once more, the background filled with more tables with soldiers working on stacks of reports and paperwork, or monitoring the radio channels for communiques from their officers in the field. Before him stands a young woman about 5’8” tall grey fur, about 26 years old, with glasses. She’s looking down at the clipboard in her hands and delivering the report on troop deployments and recruitment.

“...The Lierin dominion to our north has been surprisingly quiet in the past week, there has been no military movement at all. To our east Kyrennos has not made any moves either. I think we may have some breathing room for the second phase of the operation, sir.
‘In regards to our current troop deployment, we currently have four trained Legions on the northern border, our officers think that we can assemble another two and a half from able bodied young men in the cities that have come under rebel control. Whether we have enough arms to equip them is uncertain.”

“Very good Lotte” Herr General says as he looks down on the map spread out over the table.



“As for our two neighbors let’s keep on the alert, one of them is still undecided in this battle of alliances, and the other for some reason is choosing not to intervene. However we do need those legions elsewhere... Let’s move one of the trained legions to the eastern border to keep guard, leave one on the northern border, and the other two will move to Dorfen, and Waren, respectively. Meanwhile have the two new legions form in each of those locations as well, the half legion will form in Luka. the equipment for the new legions is to be taken from what we have captured thus far, ex-police hardware, and the 4 defected legion camps in Venris, and Kleve. Any other shortages will hopefully be filled in the future.” Herr General moves some of the pieces around the map gesturing to where they should be moving.
“Also Lotte, get the intelligence agent in charge of internal security to send out scouts to ensure those four Auxiliary legions that disbanded made it home alright, and aren’t terrorizing the populace. Let him know he can use whatever resources he needs.” Herr General looks up from the table with a smirk on his face.

February, 14th, Venris:

After the rebels took control of the city, one of Herr General’s operatives led the masses to march on the viceroy’s villa. Knowing the gig was up he attempted to flee along with the other Yllendyr sympathizers in the government. Unfortunately for them most were caught fleeing the city by the rebels, and taken to the castle jail and the rest were pursued by rioters. Those that were caught wait in the castle jail for their punishments on charges of sympathizing with the enemy, accepting bribes, fraud, murder, and many other counts. A provisional government was then setup to help monitor the day to day occurrences in Venris.

February 18th, Venris:

On the outskirts of the city, a few rebel soldiers have set up a checkpoint here to monitor the surrounding area.

“Hey Ernst, it’s quite busy today innit?”

“Well I mean they are sentencing those politicians today Schultz, of course there are
going to be people comin’ to see that.”

“But i mean c'mon it’s only a few Yllenny sympathizers gettin’ hacked up. Surely at this
rate the entire city is gonna be filled to the brim.”

“That may well be, but people will always find joy in others suffering. So there’s no point in getting hung up on it… Anyway here comes another cart Schultz, this time don’t let’em run over your foot!”

*Muttering under his breath* “ Gee, you slip in the mud one time and that’s all they ever recollect.”

A cart approaches from one of the outlying villages the driver looks old and ratty, in the cart there are hand made pots, rugs, and animal hide. In addition two women are riding on the back of the cart, one is in her early fifties, her fur long, and black. Wearing a old ratty dress, but still pretty respectable for a villager. Her eyes have a glint of intelligence in them, and her hands have many little cuts on them. The other woman is in her mid twenties, golden yellow fur, with one green, and one blue eye. Wearing a nice dress that looks to be in very good shape with only light wear, she also has a sun hat with a red handkerchief tied around the center. Like the older lady she has an air of intelligence, but with a bit of youthful joy, and energy.

As per their routine, Ernst walks up to the driver while Schultz walks towards the back of the cart to inspect it’s contents.

“What’s your name and the reason for your visit to Venris today sir?” asks Ernst

“The name’s Otto, and Imma ere to eh sell offa my village’s goods so ah can take back somo that there cotton cloth ya’ll be makin these days. The woman folk love that stuff, can make new dr’esses and such things. Oh… and alsa i came a to get new’e tools and seed fer plantin.”

“Alrighty sir, and you ladies?” Ernst says while glancing to the two women in the back of the cart.

The elder woman replies, “i’m Adelina and this is Lucy, we are just passing through, heading to family up north.”

“Ah very well then then, Schultz! Everything in order back there?”

“Ja, all is good back here Ernst.”

“Very good” turns to Otto, “Carry on sir, and welcome to Venris”

The cart trundles away into the city. Ernst turns to Schultz who has come back to the gate.

“I feel like i’ve seen that girl before, Schultz.”

“Which one?”

“The young, pretty one dunkopf!”

“Oh yeah she’s nice.” replies Schultz a little downtrodden but he perks up “But she did give me this chocolate bar!”

Ernst looks at the chocolate bar in Schultz’s hands and sighs, staring off into the city scape thinking about where he had seen that girl before.

Feburary 11th, 1901
Albin Hescher ducked as he exited the bowels of the civilian transport ship that had docked at the bustling Lierinin harbor. He had, in his early days, visited and traded on the frontlines that was the stock market floors of this infamous trade hub. A sigh of nostalgia escaped him as he took in the sounds and smells of the land around him, and despite his sharp, bony features, he looked like a school boy who had just finished a delicious pie. This, he thought, this was a land where truly all beings were equal. Those early days of trading stock fast and furious that had allowed him to accumulate his great wealth that rivaled even the nobility was far in away something he hoped to bring to his homeland, and had given him that burning hatred of the nobility. They had only inherited their wealth, not built it. They didn’t build the factories that filled their tax purses full, he did. They didn’t push Avalian Saltpeter on the weapon producing Lierins! He did.

Another sigh escaped the rigid man, a far sadder one. Those years were long behind him. Gone are the days of getting his own hands dirty, it was time for him to step up and get some real work done. He just hoped Adron could keep the nation together long enough for his works to bear fruit.

He climbed down the gangplank and began maneuvering his way through the crowd before he saw his contact. A horned elf stood waiting for him, with two Agurians at either side. The elf smiled at Albin approached, a smile that Albin’s fierce features did not return. “Mr. Hescher, it is good to see you after these years. I would not think you would show your face in this town again after you loss our previous bet.” the horned elf said with a sly smile. Albin’s face remained unchanged.

“Had you not payed off the teller, I’d have crushed your measly excuse of a trading firm long before you could have ever seen a cent.” Albin responded, the horned elf shrugged.

“The student becomes the teacher, as is the natural order of things.” the horned elf simply said. After a tense moment, a smile of mischief began to appear on both their faces, eventually breaking into a laugh. “I’m glad to see you have not lost your sense of humor, Albin. It has been too long.”

Albin’s face now had a warm smile, or at least, as warm as his face allowed. “Indeed Nyana, it has been too long. Though as you might imagine, I have been a bit busy these past few years to visit.”

“Yes yes, come, tell me more on the ride over there. Your telegram had explained as much and -oh, where are my manners. These two are Chai-Thar and Zel-Thar. They are my loyal aids that I picked up not long after you left for your homeland once more. Please, let them carry your luggage while we talk.” Alblin briefly sized the two up before nodding. Agurians had always been known to be loyal workers if worked right.

The drive was uneventful as they went threw the endlessly busy streets of Primal. Albin explained what he had to offer and his friend and former student prepared him for what he might get. Meeting with each council member individually meant he had to know how exactly to be flexible when arranging these deals and his first meeting was with Vulwyn Traro, a man that Albin had briefly met before during his big break through on the Saltpeter deal. He was to secure additional arms for his fledgling republic and in particular the much larger guns that Avalia had not been allowed to produce on her own in the days of the Imperium vassalage. In addition to whatever munitions and even blueprints he might acquire as well for domestic production. The shorter the supply lines, the greater the capability of the nation.

As the vehicle pulled in front of the impressive central building, Nayana gave Albin a nod. “He’s expecting you in there. I hope you know what you’re doing here. From what I understand, if you don’t have anything to offer, he’ll be just as quick to throw you out as he is to let you in. Seen it a few times myself.” Albin got out and leaned into the passenger compartment with a wry smile on his face.

“I wouldn’t have an appointment with the man if I came empty handed. If anything, this meeting shows he remembers me just as much as I remember him.” With that, he closed the door and made his way into the building. It was hard to wonder if he was in the right place, as he entered the central hall. It was flanked by either side with detailed scale models of various industrial complexes, maps of rail networks under Traro’s control, and artillery pieces his companies had produced. Albin was not a man who enjoyed such trivial things, and made his way straight to the receptionist’s desk at the end of it. Time was always short for him, but thankfully the receptionist merely waved him through. Upon entering the office, Albin suddenly did think he might of had the wrong place. By contrast to the grand hall earlier, the man’s office was far simpler, with merely a desk and two chairs placed on either side. Vulwyn Traro sat behind it, staring at Albin, emotionless. Albin returned the gaze with his own trademark look of assessment.

Not a word had been spoken, yet the two men had already made their opening moves. Albin nodded before approaching, hand out. “I believe you know who I am and I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know you, Mr. Traro. You and I have no need for such delaying pleasantries, so let us waste no time here. I have the full authority granted to me by the provisional council who currently heads the Republic of Avalia and all her markets, which means I can grant special provisions and grants to foreign investors in exchange for support. This not only includes easier access to Avalian markets and goods,but also land. With much of the nobility out of the picture, their estates and lands are currently under the control of the government. While some is already accounted for, I will be able to grant property to your company and investors should you prove to be a favorable trade partner. So….. Shall we begin?” Albin said. And while his face remained stoic, he couldn’t be happier on the inside, for he relished his trade.

~~~

February 10th, 1901

Adron stared at the map before him in his war tent. The room didn’t have much in the way of furniture aside from the wooden table in the center and a small desk in the corner. It was nonetheless cluttered with maps of all kinds, covering the walls, hanging from supports, and sitting on the table before him. He had been keeping close tabs on the movements of the Imperium’s legions for some time now, hoping to catch one or two before they could properly escape. He knew that they’d be back for his country, so one less legion to deal with when that day comes is more than enough of a victory for him.

They had moved surprisingly fast on the now infamous “election day” (the name becoming popular among the people). The 2nd Imperium Legion had utterly disbanded and devolved into a rabble, as expected, and the 4th Imperium Legion---stationed in the capital--had been destroyed during the coup. This had left three remaining legions in play in his country, and here he sat surrounding one…sort of. The 3rd Imperium Legion had retreated south towards the major port city of Lundburgh where it was expected to be evacuated by the Southern Fleet. Meanwhile, the 1st and 5th legions were fleeing north, having split up to take both of the cities that sat on the Helv River. Especially as the closing days of winter came upon them, those two cities were the only viable crossing areas for a force of that size. Adron had suspected as much and had preemptively stationed the 12th Infantry Division aided by the 6th Cavalry Brigade. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to stall the legions.

The Southern Fleet had been observed sailing down the coast in a bid to rescue Imperium forces. Avalian scout aircraft had stalked them as the fleet traveled further south. What else could they do? They certainly didn’t have the navy to challenge the Southern Fleet and certainly didn’t have the coastal battery to ward them off just yet. Adron sighed as he stepped back from the table and stretched. It seemed the 3rd Legion might slip away after all. Photos taken by the scouts seemed to indicate they had every intention of leaving. Adron hadn’t made much of a move either, as he didn’t want to start shelling his own city if he didn’t have to.

A voice suddenly cut off his thoughts. It was one of the tent guards. “Sir, there is a colonel out here who wants to speak with you. He says that he might have found you a victory, Sir.” Adron raised an eyebrow. That was quite bold for a mere colonel to ask for him directly. However, seeing how he himself had yet to come up with anything better than storming the city and engaging in a protracted siege, he decided to humor this upstart.

“Very well, let him in.” Adron said.

A man in his mid thirties stepped in. He wore the same blue uniform with red trim as Adron did, but with far fewer service stripes. His hair was a dark brown and he had a burn scar that prevented a patch of it from growing. “Ah, Colonel Nilsson, I should have known it was you. Please, enlighten me, what could you possibly have?”

Colonel Nilsson gave the Field Marshal a crooked grin. “Well sir, we can’t very well kick them out of the town without shelling the poor place to pieces. I would highly object to such a bombardment, as Lundburgh has the best brothels in all the Imperium if you ask me!” The Colonel said with a laugh.

“Cut to it,” Adron said flatly. Nilsson quickly held up his hands.

“Apologies Sir, I know you don’t want to shell this place, but if we don’t do something, we are liable to let the whole damn legion get off scot-free. That will set a bad precedent for this war, so here’s a compromise.”

“A “compromise”, Colonel?” Adron asked.

“Yes Sir! You see, I’ve been talking with some of those navy fusiliers, ya know, the ones stationed on our coastal fleet? Well as it happens, Avalian destroyers are identical to Imperium ones, seeing how we weren’t allowed our own full navy, of course. So, we were talking, and she tells me that Imperium naval vessels of that size rarely have any sort of dedicated armed element on board, ya know? Sure they got a small armory for when things get hectic, but no marines or nothing. A ship that size is just too small!” As the colonel talked, Adron’s eyes widened.

“Colonel are you suggesting we board an Imperium Destroyer?” Adron asked, staring hard at the colonel in front of him. The Colonel smirked, his grin betraying the deadly seriousness of this plan.

“No sir, I’m not just suggesting that. I’m suggesting we kick the Southern Fleet in the balls to let em know what they might endure should they decide to come back. We’re going to take that destroyer and create chaos that would make the cultists in Anhreich jealous.”

February 21st, 1901

The plan was put into action. A platoon, known as “Nilsson’s Sea Raiders”, formed from the docked ships of the now defunct coastal defence force, took off from the shoreline just south of harbor city. Nature was seemingly on their side that night, as cloud cover permeated the sky with little star light or moonlight reaching the sea. Armed with shotguns, carbines, and plain old knives and pistols, the Fusiliers began to quietly search for a target. Soon, they found one. A torpedo destroyer was well on its way towards the port to aid in the evacuation. Silently the platoon flew down and landed upon the vessel.

Aboard the Empress Mobara, the captain of the proud dreadnought watched quietly as the ship sat anchored just outside the harbor of Lundburgh. For the most part, he was very pleased with how things were going. Avalian troops had yet to make any major offensive for fearing his mighty guns would stop them in their place. A part of him almost wished they would, just so he could smash them. But as it stood, no such thing had taken place yet and pulling these legions home for the war effort back in Yllendthyr proved to be a far more pressing task. As much as it pained him to see the legion’s in such a state of retreat, it was his duty to escort them home, and escort them he would.

Blinking, the captain found himself on the floor of his bridge, people yelling around him. Slowly, he attempted to get up before stumbling. The floor wasn’t quite the right angle and he felt as though he was a brand new ensign the day after shore leave. What had happened? Why were his ears ringing? It was so annoying…. The captain’s eyes widened. The ship was the wrong angle, a very, very wrong angle. The dreadnought listed heavily to the portside and one of the batteries was missing. One of the batteries was missing!? The captain quickly ran up to the window. Sure enough, a smoldering pit of hell fire was all that remained of the forward battery. A bridge member grabbed him “Sir! Sir do you hear me? We’ve been hit by a torpedo sir, the ship is going down sir!” He sounded distance, like he was yelling down a smokestack at him. What was going on? A torpedo? From what? From who? These were the questions that filled the captain’s head before fire engulfed them as the second ammunition store blew.

A cry of triumph erupted from Nilsson’s Sea Raiders as they soared into the night. Their torpedos had struck home, and dealt a blow to the Southern Fleet.

Adron stood on the shoreline, watching the glimmering lights in the distance. The platoon had returned with few casualties and two possible dreadnought kills to their name along with a heavy cruiser as the cherry on top. He allowed a smile to form on his old face as he thought. While they’d certainly not stopped the Imperium or her navy, they certainly had smacked her in the face. Avalia was only getting started, and Adron was ready for whatever was next.

~~~

February 21st, 1901
Situated in one of the few passes of the Voiru Mountains is the old city of Adrean. It was smaller, more densely packed than some of the more modern cities to the south, and sits nearly two thousand feet above sea level, giving a fair more colder environment. Legend speaks of this city being a place where the monsters from the north had been rebuffed and where the Sky’s King fought a pivotal battle. What better place for a last stand?

At least, that’s what Agata Bennick thought as she looked upon the city from her estate. She was a noble, an old woman who had left the years of her youth well behind her. Here wrinkled face seemed to be permanently set in a frown, though she had plenty to frown about. The royalist had been stomped out across the nation with Adrean remaining the defiant exception. Her butler had warned her of the coup before official word had reached the northern city and she had acted quickly, rallying what few nobles had escaped Adron’s blade and throwing up heavy barricades. While local republican militia had proven a threat, they had failed in preventing the royalists from seizing the inner city, where the grain house stores and armory sat. Now all the republicans could do is sit in the outskirts and starve.

How long until it became the opposite though? Agata pondered this, and chuckled quietly to herself. Truly, it would be a work of fate and art for things to play out so. A direct parody to what has been happening for over a decade.

Shaking her head, she let the thought go. There was no room for irony right now. This was a fight for survival, for herself and for the tradition that the bastard Field Marshal seemed so intent on burning.

It was time for action.

~~~

-ALOLVI NEWS-

THE GLOVE IS TOSSED!
Royalist in the northernmost city of Adrean have successfully taken control of the city center, threatening to starve the city out unless they meet with Adron himself! Dutchess Agata Bennick is suspected to be leading the royalists in Adrean!

A SINKING EMPIRE WITH A SINKING EMPRESS, ADRON STRIKES!

In the major port city of Lundburgh, Imperium forces attempt to evacuate to the Southern Fleet off the coast! Field Marshal Adron wouldn’t let them get away so easily, launching a daring raid with a special group of Valkyrian soldiers known as “Nilsson’s Sea Raiders”! While details of the raid are limited, we can confirm that the Imperium dreadnought “Empress Mobara” was sunk, as well as the dreadnought “ Emperor Mylvyth” and heavy cruiser “Mophodo” being severely damaged! While the Imperium forces were able to slip away, the message was clear! STAY OUT!

Meanwhile, reports are coming in that remaining Imperium forces are making a bid to retreating across the Voiru Mountains at Adrean, but republican forces have already dug in around the two river cities of Smedeholm and Verme, waiting for relief from Adron’s southern forces!

AVALIAN INDUSTRY LEADER SPOTTED IN LIERIN!

Infamous industry leader and council member Albin Hescher was spotted in the famous twin cities! Refusing to speak to on site reporters, one could only wonder why the Avalian man was in the big city! Leasure? Business? Or getting out while he still can?!

Those were the supposed last words that came from the Vaurgemyrean Ambassador to the Kingdom of Avalia, before silence down the telephone line followed, or so it was said. The sudden and violent upheaval had taken Vaurgemyr’s leadership totally unawares - far more so than the civil war now ripping apart the Yllendyre Imperium.

Within the halls of the Lymwurm Palace, halls, where were made far larger than for mere humans, gathered the attendees, servants and minions of Vaurgemyr’s rulers. The gathering was one of a plethora of peoples; from elven calligraphers and ministers to harpy Dragoon guards, human servants and even a goblin - the last of which was dressed as a jester. They represented the highest slave classes. Oxymoron isn’t it? The highest of the slaves.

But that was the life of being in the service of Dragons, thought Heinka of Ghrimaulungdr. Heinka was a Dragoon Guard, the elite of the elite when it came to soldiery in the Vaurgemyr Dominion. As she walked behind her master, the golden-scaled Lord Orthysliz, she couldn’t help but glance momentarily at the riches of the hall. Gold; and it was everywhere. Paintings, statues, jewels, relics and yet more gold covered the expanse of the chamber. Like a contained golden sea or dunes of some distant new world desert. Heinka was a slave, but she knew that very few in the world could claim to be able to witness such a sight.

She was a Valkyrian - of the imperial breed mind you. Born into slavery, if you want to call it that, but nothing like what those human savages endure - or what they once forced her people to endure. Every day she had to remind herself that she was proud of her status, of the great privilege and honour it was to be a Dragoon, to be born into a retinue* and fight for her master the Lord Orthysliz.

Sometimes she hid doubts, a hidden shame for the word ‘slave’. But here, in perhaps one of the most bejewelled chambers in the world, she knew the majesty of the lords she so loyally fought for - far more than the squalor that she would have lived in under the heel of the human anyway.

She and the Dragoon Guard detail following the Lord Orthysliz continued walking through the gold dunes, ignoring the questioning looks of various Dragons lying on or among the gold, many of those looks come from glaring eyes that only broke the surface of the gold, the rest buried and invisible. The guard detail walked until they approached what appeared to be some kind of raised dais surrounded by silk and a canopy, raised just above the dunes of gold. One of the Lord Orthysliz’s three heads turned, facing her. He did not even need to speak - the slight nod and squinting of his eyes were all he needed for her to understand he wished his guard detail to halt. In that following instant, she raised her arm and the guards behind her stopped. The Lord Orthysliz, A huge dragon of gold with three menacing heads, cared not for the sensibilities of this court - in fact, he and in extension Heinka were here without even a summoning. The Dragon, however, was powerful. He had secured the current Dowager-Empress her rule with his coup, among other things… The courtier dragons and various advisers and servants quickly made room and pretended Orthysliz was supposed to be here.

She could not hear what they said from this distance, but she knew why they were here. It was time. The Imperial Valkyrians have been waiting for generations for this moment - the return of their people to glory. It had only been a mere three days since the treacherous Avalians had shown their true colours yet again. War was coming very, very soon, she was certain of this and The Lord Orthysliz, always eager for a fight was calling for first blood. He would lead the intrepid 4th Air Regiment personally, and in fact, he had them assembling in the capital already.

It did not matter if the child-emperor or his ruling mother said yea or nay, they would be attacking the Avalians by the light of tomorrow’s dawn. To be honest, thinking on it as she grinned, the rare expression breaking her usually stoic frown...

She was eager too.



The wait was long, but Heinka was used to standing at attention for long periods of time. Her draconic masters were hissing their words, and from her distance, she could see exaggerated movement of wings and tails. A seemingly female voice from the distance finally shouted a definitive ‘Then go!’ - Heinka assumed it was the Dowager-Empress. The Lord Orthysliz turned and almost pranced back - and the look of the dragon was one of a cat just before it pounced on an unsuspecting mouse. He had done it.

‘Captain, We make for Adrean’ One of the Lord Orthysliz’s heads announced, walking past his guards to exit the palace.

Battle-eagerness had quickly moved through the guard detail like an electrical spark upon this realisation. The guard detail with new vigour formed up behind Orthysliz on Heinka’s command. They marched through the halls, chambers and great passages of the palace until they reached the city beyond it, leaving through the great gates of the palace and returning to a gathering of soldiers that were those of the 4th Air.

The Harpies and Valkyrians saluted immediately, while the various Dragons bowed their heads.

‘Dragoons of the 4th Air! The Emperor Vermathysliz has given me his orders, and they are to take first blood!’ The middle head shouted, drawing the attention of not only his personal army but those of nobles and servants around the palace. ‘We make for Adrean at once, and once there we will be putting down this pathetic insurgency’. Orthysliz’ wings then started beating, great gusts of wind blowing across the palace courtyards followed.

‘The Emperor has deemed it is time to march to war, but those peon commoners and chattel don’t have the privilege to strike first - I expect you all to show no mercy or hesitation, and to show the rest of the Dominion and the Yllendyre how it is done. I know you will not fail’. The Lord Orthysliz declared the final comment part warning, part praise for their skill. Orthysliz was a simple enough master to understand. He was honest and direct and would reward competence but be harsh to those who failed him.

‘Yes, my lord!’ the 4th Air shouted in response, Heinka along with the others.

Orthysliz then lifted himself into the air, and the rest of the regiment gathered did so as well, a small swarm of flying soldiers rising above the cities spires, drawing the attention of much of the city.

The 4th Air Regiment quickly reached higher altitudes, the capital city shrinking as they rose above the clouds and arced towards the direction of Avalia. They flew significantly slower than their maximum speed, as the heavy 2nd rate dragons* in their regiment could not meet the same speeds as the 4th rates*, or the Valkyrians and Harpies. It is for this reason that the Lord Orthysliz, in mid-flight, turned one of his heads towards Heinka.

‘Captain. The Northern regions of Avalia must be taken, immediately, and I expect to see a proper war when I arrive - you will give me a landing at Adrean. Take your Company and fly them straight to the city, and make sure it is ready for my arrival. Engage hostiles as you see fit. I remember your ferocity from my little adventure at the Palace those years ago. You will serve me well again. Now go.’ He hissed, and Heinka nodded, her eyes turning to steel and her former bloodlust turning to cold determination.

‘It will be done my lord’. She responded, a dry monotone as her eyes hardened. She leaned her wings to the side, and reformed formation with her company.

‘Falk Company, to me! Our lord Orthysliz has orders. We are moving ahead at 80 km/h! It's time for war’. She shouted over the wind, and with a burst of speed, she and the other Falk Company Dragoons rushed forward, leaving the rest of the Regiment behind. They would be in Adrean in but six hours.





The Emperor Vermathysliz watched quietly from his canopied dais, observing yet another exchange of sharp words between his mother and one of her current ‘favourites’.

‘Then go!’ yelled the Dowager-Empress Ciziebetta. Ghrimaulung Orthysliz, the recipient of his mother’s temporary wrath merely grinned, the smugness visible on all three of his faces. He turned with a proud show-off beat of his wings and left to the small army of awaiting Dragoons. The Emperor noted that Orthysliz’s guards now leaving behind the smug goldenscale seemed to include Valkyrians, particularly a fierce and serious looking black haired girl. They were his favourites. One of his maids, Natiya, was one too. She was friendly and moved around the figurine soldiers and Goblins when he told her to. She may even be his favourite servant, like Roman the Dragoon or his elven Governess, even if he kept forgetting her name.

‘Mother, why did the Avalians rebel so violently?' He asked, now that Orthysliz was gone. It seems mad, they were already gaining their freedom. 'Are they coming for us now?’ he continued, wondering if his dear Natiya or Roman would one day go crazy too, and betray him.

‘The Avalian nobles made a terrible mistake - They forgot what it meant to be a ruler of lesser peoples. You may be feared, or you may be loved, but love is temporary while fear is enduring - and so they once ruled with fear, as does all wise rulers’ his mother spoke. Vermathylis wished to argue with her, but was prematurely shushed by his mother.

‘They ruled with fear, and then tried to be loved - but all they did was give those who hated them freedom and power, and with that power, those that hated them rose up and now they will slaughter them to the last. Do not make the mistakes of the Avalian nobles, or the foolish Emperor Olarth. One day you will rule this empire, perhaps even as a free nation again, but if you do not mature and recognise that your ‘dear maid’ acknowledges you only through fear - that the lesser races do not forget - then the human commoners and their ilk will rise up and butcher everyone in their path here too, as they have done in Avalia and surely soon in Aurelia.

The Emperor frowned, partly frightened by the certainty of her words, partly refuting her statement as he thought her words wrong. He lived in his mother’s shadow, ever since the Palace Coup, he had little to no influence over his own nation or people. So he went silent and returned to hiding under the silken canopy the resided within.

His mother though, turned her long neck towards another adviser - this one a Yllendyr, or dark elf. The ones that lorded themselves over his people. In fact, this particular elf was THE elf that Yllendyre had sent to lord themselves over him particularly, even if she was really outmatched in that regard by his mother.

‘Yirva, I expect you will have the reins over the Yllendyr forces in Vaurgemyr?’

‘It is as you say, your Grace. The Imperial Army will respond to your will, so long as they are aimed at the separatists’.

‘Then know this. The time for waiting is over. I will not stand idly by while the future of our nation and my son’s rule is jeopardised by a mob of fanatical zealots’. His mother then went quiet, and looked slowly around at the various courtiers and servants, all now listening closely.

‘I hereby decree a state of war now exists between the Imperial Dominion of Vaurgemyr and the unsubstantiated rabble that would dare call themselves the… Republic of Avalia’. His mother took on that haughty, cold voice he heard from her when she was lecturing him. He knew he should be the one making that speech, but there was nothing he could really do. These men and women listened to her, not to him.

‘With my declaration of war, it is within my powers to call on the College of War to assemble my army, and as such, I am calling on said esteemed body to proceed to a general mobilisation. By my will and the grace of Yllendyr, the many gods of Vaurgemyr and by the glory of our empire - Let the Avalians know that their days of inflicting terror are numbered, and their day of dying has only just begun!’

The entire court responded by a combination of shouts, hurrahs, ‘Yes, your majesty’ and even some draconic roars. The Emperor sighed and folded his wings over himself as to try futilely to drown out the noise. Perhaps he could try and play another game with Natiya - pretend war, where no one died and he actually had a say with how his people would die.



Dowager-Empress Ciziebette’s declaration of war, as heard by the Imperial Court of Vaurgemyr, is officially announced across the nation via radio as the Emperor Vermathysliz's declaration. The declaration of war is also transmitted to both the still present ambassador to the (now-defunct) Kingdom of Avalia and publicly to the people of the unrecognised Republic of Avalia. A state of war now exists between the two nations and peoples as of this date.

Official Communications are also sent to neighbouring states concerning matters of the war, including messages passed through the Yllendyr Regent to both Emperor Ecruir and (more discreetly) to Emperor Olarth.

The Elite 4th Air Regiment rushes forwards straight to Northern Avalia. The Falk Company detachment of lighter air units (4th Rates and Escort Harpies/Valkyrians) will arrive in 5-6 hours, moving at around 80 km/h.

Air-Knight Regiments are promptly deployed from their garrisons and household guard posts. The fastest 4th Rate Dragons are immediately deployed to likely engagement zones along the dividing mountain range between Vaurgemyr and Avalia.

The Vaurgemyrean Dominion Navy (VDN) is deployed, heavy cruisers sail to join Ecruir’s navy in the blockade of Avalia.

While the mass mobilisation of Dragoons and Slave-Conscripts begins (through the form of drafting the Aristocrat’s of their slaves or by ordering Aristocrats to war and through that them mobilising their own slaves), the 300,000 Yllendr guardsmen and women of the Imperial Army immediately make movements towards Avalia.

Trains begin transporting troops and supplies south. These are guarded by air-based escorts in preemption of possible Valkyrian strikes.

February 23rd, 4901 YDC (Yllendyr Dynastic Calendar)
The Vermillion Citadel, Ylleria

Emperor Ecruir was preparing his speech, leaning over his desk with an old-fashioned quill pen. Most had switched to fountain pens for ease of use, but Ecruir found the older style much more pleasant. When he was writing down the last words, there came a knock on the door.

"Come in!"

"Your Imperial Highness, sir." One of the palace servants entered the room. "I have for you news of a foreign dignitary who has arrived at the Citadel, requesting to meet you.

Ecruir looked puzzled. "A foreign dignitary? There are no foreign countries, only states of the Imperium."

"With all due respect, Your Imperial Highness, this envoy claims to be a representative from the Celestial Empire of Amrea, a nation far across the seas nearby to our colony."

"Oh yes, of course, I recall this in one of my father's interminable lectures about the strange distant barbarians we found there. And something about a second moon. Do send him in, I'll receive him here."

_________________

The walls of the Vermilion Citadel were but one of the many things in this strange eastern land that lent a great sense of discomfort to Xen Huo-ming as he stood in the foyer, as instructed by one of the
palace's many servants. The sights he saw at the head of the Empire's flagship as it rolled into the Yllendyr port, the rocking of the train carriage Imperial officials had loaded him and the others into. It all rubbed him the wrong way, but perhaps that was simply due to the alien nature of the Far East, compared to the familiar comforts of the Empire.

He shifted to the right as he caught a glimpse of one of the palace servants approaching him, waiting expectantly for his reply.

"Sir, his Imperial Highness shall receive you now."

"Very well, thank you for relaying my request for an audience to the Emperor." Xen smiled and offered a little nod to the servant, before turning around to signal to the two others accompanying him.

"Come, Min, Mae-da. The most excellent Emperor of the Yllendyr Imperium shall receive us now. Ensure that proper respect is paid, in the same way one would before the Gwangyeong Empress."

The three were admitted into the office room of the Emperor. The room was furnished in the sleek and refined style that was most common amongst elves, and a portrait of the 75th Emperor Naerzo still hung on the wall. A small red lamp illuminated the unusually ornate desk, which had flower patterns carved in wood. He moved around to the side of the desk, extending his hand in a gesture of welcome to these strange beings.

Xen was slightly puzzled by the size of the Emperor's "throne room", as he thought it was, before realizing that perhaps it was most likely the Emperor's quarters or office. It left him rather unsure of how to respond, given that conventionally, one was meant to pay their respects through the kowtow at the throne. In spite of that, the three of them kowtowed before Ecruir, prostrating themselves before him before rising.

Ecruir recognized the bow as a sign of respect, as the Kitagawans used similar gestures when greeting him or their own Emperor. The fox-like creatures resembled something of a cross between an elf and a Vaspen, which was very confusing in terms of racial hierarchy. For now, the Emperor supposed he would reserve judgement. Their deep bowing, at least, showed they had some level of civilization about them and understood how to give proper respect. When they had risen, Ecruir tipped his head slightly down in response. "Greetings and welcome to the Vermillion Citadel, and the Imperium as a whole. I would be pleased to know your names and your purpose."

"It is an honor to be in your presence, your Imperial Highness. I am Xen Huo-ming, envoy of the Celestial Empress to your court. Accompanying me are Min Ru'sa and Mae-da, members of the Gwangyeong Empress' diplomatic expedition to your great Imperium. I come bearing a letter from the Empress of Amrea herself, meant for your Highness' esteemed eyes only."

Ecruir nodded. He would try to remember the envoy's name, but the other two had names far too hard to bother to pronounce or remember for his taste. "I appreciate it, and will read it promptly." He took the letter from Xen's outstretched hand, and pulled a letter opener from his desk drawer to separate the wax seal from the paper.

As his eyes traveled the paper, they slightly widened in surprise. He briefly raised his eyes to the envoy and two escorts, looking them over, then continued reading. Ecruir certainly appreciated the sentiments contained within, but he was unsure whether or not his definition of enlightened races could include these strange beings as of yet. That being considered, though, Ecruir was highly interested in allies, especially ones with such evidently similar mindsets.

He looked up again at Xen. "Envoy Huo-ming, this letter directs me to refer to you for further inquiries. So I must ask: does the Gwangyeong Empress have a concrete proposal in mind, or is this simply an offer of friendship and solidarity?"

Xen simply smiled before addressing the Emperor once again. "Your Imperial Highness, the words written by the Empress are no mere gestures of solidarity. Her Imperial Majesty wishes to sign a full alliance with the Imperium. The proposal is as thus: The Empire of Amrea will support your Imperium in civilizing the savage tribes found throughout your territories and in exchange, we wish to request your aid in a similar manner in the West. As a further gesture, the Empress in consultation with the Hong of Cantha, wishes to also invite Yllendyr merchants to dock and trade freely within the borders of the Empire, thus ending the restriction placed on your traders to conduct all their business at the Port of Cantha."

He stops to take a breath before continuing.

"Second-to-last, the Empire will with your consent also dispatch a battalion of Imperial Mages to your colony south of Amrean territory to safeguard it against the threat of wild strigoi. Lastly, en-route to the Vermillion Citadel, brief mentions of a war by the commonfolk caught my ear. The Empress has given me full authority as the representative of the Celestial Empire to the Yllendyr Imperium to act as I see fit in terms of diplomacy and as a result, I would like to offer the services of the Imperial Mages I had brought with me to aid your Imperial Highness in his fight. They are led by the two you see before you."

The Emperor smiled gratefully. "Yes, indeed we have a case of a couple of rebellious provinces. Such are the dangers of governing resentful and barbarous peoples, as your Empress would no doubt agree." He thought for a few seconds, then continued. "I am obliged to agree wholeheartedly with these sentiments, and I would be happy to forge an alliance. We are both surrounded by bloodthirsty enemies, quite literally in the case of the continent on which you dwell... much to my disgust... so it would be quite remiss of me to allow an opportunity such as this to pass the Yllendyr by. I will pass along the results of this agreement to the Crown Colony of Yllendyr, so that we might both prosper from the fruits of commerce. I also greatly appreciate the offer of assistance. Skilled mages are always valued in armies, and will hopefully allow the Yllendyr to come to know your people better.

Secondly, it is the custom of the Yllendyr to establish a permanent embassy between nations, so that there might be an easy way for governments to contact one another. I invite your people to establish one in the Embassy Quarter of Ylleria, where representatives of all of the Imperium's subject states reside. As a recognition of your empire's much higher status, I intend to offer you a significantly larger area and as much of a budget as you might require to complete it. I only request in exchange that the Imperium might also establish an embassy in your capital. I hope that such an arrangement can make intergovernmental discussions much easier, since there is no need for a long ocean voyage."

Huo-ming nods in agreement. "Indeed, we are grateful for your Imperial Highness' generosity. Rest assured that arrangements can easily be made for the Imperium's embassy to be established in the capital of C'hung-jin. At the same time, I shall consult with Yllendyr architects here to design an embassy building for myself to take up residence."

"Very good. Express also to the Gwangyeong Empress that I may see fit to visit your realm of Amrea when my duties do not require me here. From the sound of her letter, she sounds like an inspiring lady and a pleasure to meet. Thank you as well for your service in traveling such a long way."

"It will be done, your Imperial Highness. Thank you for receiving me and my delegation with such open arms." Xen smiles one final time before deeply bowing and departing the room, Ru'sa and Mae-da in tow.

---

Later that day, the Amrean envoy was invited to the official first public address of the 76th Emperor, Ecruir Vyalviur. He stood at the left side as Ecruir emerged onto the balcony of the Vermillion Citadel just over Lunar Square, clad in a vermillion jacket and royal vestments to match. The winter sun glared brightly enough to bring some warmth in the cold to what had to be a hundred thousand onlookers, Yllendyr citizens and subjects alike, massed before the Citadel. He waved his hand and his scepter in greeting, smiling broadly, as his green eyes flashed with reflection from the sun. The assembled masses cheered, louder than any sound Ecruir thought a mass of beings was capable of creating, at the first sight of their Emperor. A microphone sat on the railing, transmitting the speech as a radio broadcast across the whole Eastern World. The time had come for Ecruir to face his destiny, for a billion lives hung in the balance.

February 22nd, 4901 YDC (Yllendyr Dynastic Calendar)
Off the Coast of Lundbergh, Imperial Dominion of Avalia

“Admiral, the commander in charge of that battlegroup has been thrown into the brig as requested.” The officer looking out the front windows of the 75th Emperor Naerzo, a dreadnought commissioned as the first of its kind, nodded regretfully. Admiral Navoss had been in command of the Southern Fleet for twenty years, and never had she imagined such a disgrace. She had warned all officers to be on high alert, and the captain of a torpedo boat had not only failed to relay the order, he had fallen asleep in his office, only to be woken by the tumult of his ship being taken over and jumping overboard. That wouldn’t save him now, regardless of the fact that no one had anticipated an aerial raid was possible. He was going to have the man, regardless of his noble parents, court marshaled and executed as soon as possible to put the fear of Elune in the other officers.

“Good. This is just the excuse I needed to whip the incompetent officers into shape. I only wish it hadn’t cost the 48th Empress Nobara. She was a beauty. And the two more ships we had to send to repairs, I hope they make it.” The aide who brought her the news nodded uncomfortably, but remained in place.

“Is there something else?” Navoss turned to the aide. He trembled a little. “Come now, speak up, I won’t bite, unlike a Valkyrian.”

“Orders from Imperial High Command, ma’am. I’m told they come directly from Emperor Ecruir. I believe the exact words were…” The aide trailed off with words that were only decipherable by Navoss’s command of lip reading.

Navoss’s eyes widened briefly, but then her face tightened with resolve. “I understand.”

She turned to speak out into the radio, looking for one last time at the unblemished city of Lundbergh, just at the very edge of most guns’ range as they pulled away from its coasts with the two intact legions they had rescued.

“All officers, load the Yllendyr fire shells. Fire upon my mark.” All around her, the clanking of metal and the shouting of voices commenced, continuing unabated for the next few minutes until she finally began counting down. “…3…2…1… mark.” The air filled with smoke and fire as ninety-six ships unleashed their payloads upon the city. If the performance of the Northern Fleet was marked as the Imperium’s defiance, this was the true measure of the Imperium’s fury.

The shells, descending down upon the city, would spray forth their payloads all around them as they fell, finally igniting them in a small explosion on impact. Yllendyr fire, the long-kept secret of the Imperium and key to many of their naval victories, was considered by many irrelevant to modern naval warfare after wooden ships and even ironclads had fallen out of favour. At least, until an engineer had discovered a new artillery shell design. These shells would have been virtually useless against well-armoured ships, but civilian targets or infantry forces had no such protection.

The relentless pounding of the guns was nearly deafening, as the city before Navoss seemed to turn brilliantly vermillion-orange. It was a very beautiful spectacle… beautiful and terrible. She could not hear the sound of screaming, but in her heart she knew it was there. A fire which dousing with water would only exacerbate, from which even if citizens hid inside their homes they would still be suffocated by the fumes. This was a warning. A sign that the Imperium was prepared for total war. If they were going to lose, then this would continue. They would take the revolutionaries with them.

Such was expressed in the brief command that the Emperor Ecruir uttered in response to the news of the raid against his navy. Three simple words, which carried entire pages of meaning: “burn them all.”

February 23rd, 4901 YDC (Yllendyr Dynastic Calendar)
The Vermillion Citadel, Ylleria

Ecruir raised his scepter for silence, and after a few moments of residual cheering and applause, the crowd quieted down.

“Loyal subjects of the Imperium!” A cheer rose again in response. “I come to speak to you today in what may be our darkest hour in a thousand years. Just as our ancestors unified a millennium ago to face the invasions of barbarian humans who sought to drive us from our homeland, so we must unify to face the barbarians at the gates.”

“My traitorous brother, whom is leading a rebellion not just against the Imperium but against the very values it represents in the name of “liberalism” and “popular sovereignty,” is only the tip of the iceberg. As you now know, three of the Dominions are in outright rebellion against the Imperium… rather, I should say, the thieves, savages, and murderous opportunists who have seized control of these areas are in rebellion. Some of these have sided with Olarth, whose weak spine has led him to offer decentralization and autonomy, even independence for some of the Dominions. This man would give up all that our father has achieved, all to rule over the shadow of what remains.”

The crowd intensely booed in response, as Ecruir soaked up all of their enthusiasm before continuing.

“Time and time again, we have learned this is the way of the barbarian. Humans, Valkyrians, Vaspen, it makes no difference. For their own petty differences, for their misguided new “ideals,” they slaughter each other and us. We have done our best to bring civilization to the Dominions, and still, more than half a century later, they return swiftly to their savage ways at the slightest sign of weakness. In Avalia, the foul revolutionaries have imprisoned and executed their nobility without mercy. In the Kitagawan lands, the Shogun has trapped Imperial legions who fight nobly to the last man against the implacable and fanatical Yamato hordes. Sadly, even some of these fine legions filled with troops from these nations have murdered their officers and begun mass banditry and pillaging.”

“Let this be a lesson to the entire Imperium: barbarism is still alive and well, and must be beat out of the world lest we all face the same fate. For sixty years, the Yllendyr have served unfailingly as the guardians and protectors of civilization on this world. We have brought many fruits of industry and technology to these peoples, from radio to the internal combustion engine to electric lighting. The last sixty years have been an era of peace and prosperity for all the nations of the world, shattered and stomped on by the naivete of fanatical, ungrateful revolutionaries.”

“I warn all those who think of siding with the side of savagery: there is nothing for you there. Those who light the fires of revolution do so with the consequences of not only lighting themselves but the entire world into a whirlwind of death and destruction. Millions will die, at your hands and ours as we struggle to restore order over the world. There are only two destinations at the end of that road: you will either be resubjugated much the worse for wear, or you will be the free and independent monarchs, presidents and prime ministers of nothing but ashes and dust.”

“This I swear to you now. I will not falter from the task of preserving this world against the anarchic death and destruction that the spirit of revolution yearns for!” The crowd intensely cheered, even more emphatically than the first time.

Ecruir gestured for a human girl, off on the opposite side from the Amrean delegation, to come forth. The girl, who looked to be about twenty years of age, nervously strode forward in a simple but beautiful gown. “I introduce to you Princess Kirsten of Avalia, the cousin of the deceased King Holfgar, who was studying at the Magitechnical University of Ylleria when the rebellion broke out. The girl looked almost about to faint as she shook the Emperor’s hand, and then went up to the microphone.

Kirsten, at an encouraging nod from the 76th Emperor, finally spoke up. “His Imperial Highness asked me to come here today to tell you all my story. The truth is… everyone in my family is dead, or I have no idea where they are. My mother, my father, my kid sister…” Kirsten could hold her tears back no longer, and they raced down her face as the crowd looked on in shock. “… she was just four years old!” Kirsten yelled, and fell to her knees. Ecruir knelt next to her, and helped bring her back to her feet. When she had composed herself, she leaned forward to speak once more. “If any of you revolutionaries can hear this, I ask you: why have you done this? To murder, to betray the trust of everyone, to ruthlessly imprison and execute anyone associated with the nobility? Is there no one innocent in your eyes? My mother, she was a kind woman… my father was against the idea of me studying abroad, but my mother smiled and paid out of her own pocket for the journey and tuition. I got a letter saying he yelled at her for the entire next day...” She smiled tearfully at the memory. “It’s only thanks to her that I’m here now, that I can still speak out on her behalf. And so I wanted to do just that. And I thank Emperor Ecruir for providing me the opportunity. If anyone is moved by my words, I simply ask you to please help. This war will tear apart many more families than just mine if it is allowed to continue.” At the cheers, she waved and backed slightly away from the railing.

Ecruir gestured for the others who stood at sides to come forth. A motley assembly indeed: of a harried dark elf from Ot-Skodat, a goblin for some mysterious reason following closely behind, a haughty-looking high elf bearing the colours of Vaurgemyr, a well-dressed human from Endaria, and of course the envoy of the Celestial Empire.

“I have gathered all those noble loyalists who have immediately declared for the true Imperium here to discuss the battle plans for the operation to crush this rebellion in its infancy, as well as an envoy from the glorious Celestial Empire of Amrea, a comrade-in-arms and ally from across the sea in our civilizing mission. Our objective is clear: the restoration of the Imperium not just as it was, but in a new and powerful way. With the support of all those in favour of civilization, in favour of preserving tradition, in favour of order and peace in the world, I know in my heart we will not fail. We have no need of popular sovereignty, for we are already sovereign!" Ecruir put his hand to his chest theatrically. “I appeal to the other loyal dominions: join us in our crusade and you will be rewarded. The Emperor will remember his friends in this time of need.”

“With all of your support, the Imperium will not only survive as it did a thousand years ago, but we will build an empire which will prosper for a thousand more!” Ecruir cast his scepter forward towards the crowd.

“To victory for the Imperium!” the Emperor cried. A chorus of thousands responded in kind. The words, “Victory for the Imperium!” resounded across the city, from the mouths of dark elves, from the mouths of humans, from the mouths of Valkyrians and ogres, from the mouths of the myriad other species that inhabited the city. For this was no simple struggle for liberation; those who sought to rebel also had to contend against their own kind, those who had sworn loyalty to the Yllendyr cause, those who had come to benefit from their rule, and those who were content with the status quo.

“So it begins,” the 76th Emperor quietly remarked. The man who promised to cast the power of a firestorm upon those who defied him turned from the balcony and strode inside, the others following in his wake.

February 24th, 4901 YDC (Yllendyr Dynastic Calendar)
Imperial Capital of Ylleria, Temporary H'ang-hyun Barracks

Min Ru'sa sighed as she looked at the stack of papers on the desk in front of her. Military report readings and schedules for meetings with Yllendyr officers to get a grasp on the situation in the Crownlands was all that she had to look forward to in the coming days. Duke Xen had stationed her company of mages in Ylleria to aid Emperor Ecruir as a token gesture in honor of the newly formed alliance between their respective Empires, and as a result, that meant she was stuck here for the foreseeable future. It wasn't all that bad though. Life in Ylleria was far more cushy than what was available back at the Jade Tower. Hot, running water, lighting without the need to burn oil lamps, and of course, instant communication of the written and spoken word via telegraph and telephone! Was this what awaited Amrea in a decade's time? The thought of it made her giddy, to say the least. She'd need to spread the word once she got back, maybe start writing it all down in a journal! Conveniently, the Yllendyr operated on a silver standard as well, so that would make getting one a bit easier at least, given that she still had a few silver coins with her.

Bleh. She was getting distracted again. Come on, focus! She stretched her arm to grab the first set of papers off the pile and eyed the title carefully. "Imperial Armament: A Guide for New Auxilia", it went. Well, that wasn't a bad way to start things off. Knowing the enemy was half the battle after all. No matter what you were fighting, whether it be Strigoi, mounted horsemen or plain old infantry, knowing what exactly you were up against would offer a great tactical advantage. It wasn't assembled in a proper book, so Min was left to assume that it was hastily printed out for her Company. Everyone in the group received a similar sized stack of papers after all. Well, except her. She was left with the largest stack due to her role as High Commander.

Flipping past the title page, she was greeted by a print of the standard issue Yllendyr firearm, alongside conveniently placed annotations detailing important specifications such as rate of fire, ammo capacity and...
Wait a second! Her eyes widened in shock. A rate of fire of FIFTEEN per minute?! Ammo capacity for up to 5 rounds before reloading?! A rifled barrel and bolt-loader for continuous, accurate fire?! She took a deep breath before reading on. Hell, these things were more powerful than the breechloaders in use by the Banner Armies! But wait...

Something clicked in her head. That didn't matter at all. So what if they had a superior rate of fire? That just meant they could throw more shots down range in the same amount of time. It didn't matter at all. If the rank and file of the Gwangyeong Empress' Legions were to fight an Easternized army, they would be utterly decimated by the sheer firepower. For the mages of the H'ang-hyun? No, that wouldn't be a problem at all.

She went through the rest of the papers as the sun began to set in the western sky, taking in the knowledge offered to her of the Far East, and it's weapons of death and destruction. They would serve the Empire well if a way was found to replicate them. Machine Guns, Howitzers, Grenades and superior rifles. With these in the hands of the Celestial Empire, none in the West would be able to challenge Imperial rule again. Coupled with the power of the rail and telegraph, Amrea would be transformed into a power to be reckoned with.

If she could convince Go'jun and the rest of the Imperial Council, that is. But that was something she'd save for when she got back home.

____________________________

February 25th, 4901 YDC (Yllendyr Dynastic Calendar)
Imperial Capital of Ylleria

Mae-da sat quietly on one of the many decorated chairs littering the conference room as the briefing of the Yllendyr Officers continued in front of him. Seated around him were at least a hundred other men and women, all commanding officers of the Auxilia Legions that had been rescued from the rebelling dominions or had been pulled away from the ones that remained loyal. Min Ru'sa was in attendance too, but she was busy formulating a battle plan for the Company in a quiet corner of the conference hall alongside Colonel Rhalva, the woman in charge of the planned offensive. Ahead, he could see the officer leading the session gesture wildly with a pointer stick at a mass of diagrams pinned on a wooden board, detailing troop deployments, railway timetables and the logistics behind the operation. None of it really concerned him, given that they hadn't even begun to mention the role the Imperial Mages would play in the upcoming battle, if at all.

All he really needed to know was where he was going, who was he supporting and what he'd be facing. They'd begin moving out in a few hours after the briefing. From there, he and his squad would carve a path through the rebel lines. With or without the Yllendyr's advanced weapons, the rebels would not and could not stop him. Not when he get into the mood for it, atleast. Once he feels that jolt in his brain as the adrenaline kicks in, he'd go all out, and destroy everything in his path.

The sounds of tens of chairs scraping against the floor caused him to turn his head up and back towards the front. It seemed the strategic conference was just about over, with the assembled COs giving their final salutes before exiting out the door and returning to their respective Auxilia. This left three people in the room, the Colonel, Mae-da and Min. And of course, it looked like the two were just about done.

"Junior Commander, if I may have your attention for a moment?" came the Colonel's voice as the pair approached her.

"Yes, Colonel. Of course ya can. I haven't had much to do at this meeting anyway. Your subordinate's plans don't exactly factor in howmy force's are going to be acting."

"Our forces, Mae-da." said Min.

"Yep, yep, our forces, Min. Anyway, getting to the point...what have you two cooked up in the corner over there?" inquired Mae-da.

"Do you want the short version or the long version, Junior Commander?"

"Long version's fine with me. Field battles involving tens of thousands ain't exactly like dueling a Strigoi out in the woods. If you have a plan you want me to follow, lay it on me. That being said though, no guarantees I'll stick to it once the fight really gets started!" Mae-da chuckled gruffly before turning back to face the two.

"Well, the plan is pretty much as follows, Mae-da. His Imperial Highness' forces control most of the railways in the Crownlands, and more specifically, the majority of the Southern Rail-line connecting Ylleria to the city of Imqua. Olarth's forces have disabled most of the railway track south to stop a rapid offensive, so the trains will have to stop somewhere about 70% of the way to Imqua, and continue on foot. From there it's a three day march to the city."

"Junior Commander, the main element of this operation is speed. We need to capture Imqua as quickly as possible before reinforcements from Altairis or Umthyr arrive. Thus a siege of it's main defensive structure, Fort Solsryn is completely impractical. Commander Min has assured me of the elite abilities of your company, and as thus I will require the mages of Amrea to serve as the vanguard. Bring down the fortress wallswith your magicks, or infiltrate it in the dead of night and open the gates, whatever works. What I need is that you Amreans open a way for the Auxilia into the structure as fast as possible. We can handle the rest from there."

Mae-da paused for a moment, processing what had just been explained to him. "No problem, Colonel Rhalva. I'll figure something out."

"Good on you, Mae-da~! Now if you'll excuse me, I need to discuss with the officers in the Artillery Corps to see if we can boost their firepower with some plasma magic for the offensive."

"Likewise, Junior Commander, I have one final meeting to attend before we begin the offensive."

With that, the two of them left the conference hall one after another, leaving Mae-da alone yet again. He moved over to the front of the hall, grabbing one of the maps left behind of the layout of Imqua's defenses. From the map, he could see that Imqua was divided into two sections, inner wall and outer wall. However, the defenses of the city were a non-factor. Fort Solsryn was what they'd be shedding blood for. The Yllendyr preferred to hold a fortification outside the city itself, and the capture of such a fortification by the enemy signaled the capture of the city as well. The Pretender's forces would most likely remain within the Fort and defend from within, where they had access to large stores of munitions and rations whilst reinforcements arrived. If that was the case, he'd just have to get his men to tear the walls down, brick by bloody brick.

__________________________________



February 28th, 4901 YDC (Yllendyr Dynastic Calendar)
Fort Solsryn, outskirts of Imqua

The early misty morning began with the roar of howitzers and the whizzing of shells as they flew towards their targets at Fort Solrysn and its surroundings. The extent of the bombardment around the vicinity of the Fort was certainly limited, given the Imperium's concern with preventing excessive damage to the city's vital rail infrastructure on the outskirts of Imqua. Once the Fort fell, the way to the city would be open and it would fall in short order. If Imqua was to fall to Ecruir's forces here, it would be the equivalent of pointing a dagger at the pretender's heart. All that would be needed was a thrust, and Olarth's life would be extinguished. In less metaphorical terms, the strategic value of Imqua was as thus:

It was a vital railway hub located in the very centre of the Crownlands, connected by track to every major city under Olarth's control from Umthyr to the Sundersevain Grove. The capture of the city would give Ecruir''s forces the momentum to advance further south to the Altairis Wall, and from there, bring the civil war to a close. With the Crownlands under the rightful Emperor's control, the Sentinels would have no reason to remain on the sidelines any longer, thus granting Ecruir the army he so desired.

In a sentence, Imqua was the pivot upon which the fate of the Imperium swung.

The shells battering the Fort were strong enough bombardment to force the garrison to hunker down within as the Auxilia marched ever onwards. From the inside, their own batteries would attempt to return fire, trading shells back and forth as the Auxilia marched ever closer to the walls. Leading the vanguard of the assault was Mae-da himself alongside a handpicked squad of four other H'ang-hyun mages. They would be the battering ram that broke the Fortress walls, allowing for the true Emperor's legions to swarm through the breach.

A pair of mages stepped forward, placing their hands on the wall as the sounds of their alien aria intermingled with the rattling of rifles and the fierce beat of the artillery.

"Behold, my Arte, my Power" began their chants

The foundations of the walls began to shake as the two mages of the H'ang-hyun cast their unholy magicks, their strength beyond anything accomplish-able by a sole, individual mage.

"The Sun stood high in the sky, unchallenged and absolute.
Yet his ungrateful spawn dared to defy him, to curse and shout
Unaware of their own folly, He saw fit to punish them.

Segments of the bulwark began to collapse as the incantation rose higher and higher into the air, the walls buckling under the intense strain placed upon them.

Sundering the Moon, his own Sister, He sent
Fragments of stone to crush their defiance.
As was once done, so it shall be again!

Shatter."

With that last word, a segment of the walls of Fort Solsryn crumbled into naught but a crumpled heap of stone, concrete and gravel as smoke and dust rose into the air, concealing the advance of the Imperial Auxilia and Amrean Mages. Mae-da simply grinned as he brushed his way through the debris. Ah, he could feel the blood pumping through his veins faster and faster. This was what he'd waited for. The chaos and adrenaline of a battlefield, where it was kill or be killed, no room for thoughts, no room for doubts, just an endless maelstrom of carnage. He turned his head to look behind him and called for his men.

"Oi, now's the time. Tearing down that wall didn't leave you all queasy did it? There's gonna be alot more spellcasting before this day is through." His voice rang through the air. "Let's get to it, cast some Formation spells and advance! We've got some savages to kill!"

"Yes, my Lord." came their replies. Mae-da could feel his skin harden, as his lips curved in the crude semblance of a grin. Let's see if those fancy rifles of the Elves could pierce him now. Fort Solsryn would fall, and with it, Imqua itself.

______________________________________

Min looked out from the outskirts of the city as a section of the wall crumbled before her eyes. She sighed and remarked to herself, "Well, that's one way in, isn't it?" before looking back at the artillery crews behind her. Her hands began to gesture theatrically as she attempted to wave down one of the howitzer crews. One of the crewmen, a uniformed human Auxilia ran up to her, saluting in respect, all the while maintaining an uneasy expression from being summoned by the Imperium's newest ally.

"You called, Commander?"

"Indeed, disregard your previous orders and re-calibrate your artillery gun to fire at an undamaged section of the wall. I'm going to create another breach."

The artilleryman merely nodded and return to his gun, followed by Min close behind. Slowly, the howitzer's barrel began to arc lower and lower, till it was aimed at the walls of Fort Solsryn. A pair of elves carried a shell from the rear and meticulously loaded the gun. In an attempt to not be outdone by Mae-da, as well as save Auxilia forces from being mowed down in droves by the defenders through a single chokepoint (though it was more the former), she began her own incantation.

Her boots dug into the ground as her stance shifted to the offense. Around her body and wrists, circles of light began to materialize and rotate effortlessly as the air was permeated with the ethereal presence of strange otherworldly runes. She giggled in her thoughts as she wondered what the others were thinking she was up to with that kind of display. It didn't really mean anything. The light show was just her way of messing around. Min's true abilities would be unleashed in the next moment.

Two syllables escaped her mouth.

"Ka-sei."

Everything had a price, that was one of reality's major rules, its unbreakable law. Nothing can be gained without giving something in return. To obtain that which is desired, something of equal value had to be relinquished. In the case of mages, that was the one and only truth. To perform miracles, to conjure tidal waves to drown their foes, to bathe them in the fires of hell and to dry the blood in their veins, all of that exerted the very essence of one's being, their soul. Tearing down the walls single-handedly, Mae-da's unholy armour, and even what she was about to do was no exception to that universal constant. Overextertion of the soul in the name of performing magic would kill a mage, greatly limiting the power of any lone individual, yet the elite mages of the Celestial Empire had pioneered a different solution. It was naught but a cheap imitation of the Strigoi, and the powers they naturally commanded through their wicked, tainted, bloodline and thirst for blood. The principle was simple. Do not exert your own soul, take in the souls of a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, one hundred thousand, use them as nothing but kindling, sacrifice them to safeguard your own as you weave an Aria for your magicks.

Though it wasn't as simple as that, souls contained the thoughts and memories of the being who existed in the physical world. Any normal being would be mentally shattered if they couldn't muster the willpower to block out the screams of the thousands trapped within them. The souls of the damned would strengthen their own presence in the void between the magical planes, allowing them to exert greater force upon their naturally-attuned plane. Igniting a field of fire the size of a grove, tearing kilometer-wide fissures into the very earth, all of it and more stood within the reach of those who had accumulated the necessary souls to fuel their incantations.

Of course, Min didn't really have anything that powerful up her proverbial sleeve. Yet.

"Fury of the Sun!" She exclaimed.

"FIRE!"

The barrel warped and scream as the howitzer's roar filled the sky, it's shell propelled forward by an explosion beyond anything possible with conventional artillery. The recoil of the barrel embedded it into the Earth as the sheer force knocked the crew over and into the dirt. The shell continued to fly toward its mark, whizzing through the air before impacting another segment of the wall. The foundations split and sundered as the projectile's sheer kinetic energy threatened to knock it over, carving a hole through the fort's defenses. Outside, the cheers of the Auxilia turned into a furious battle-cry as they swarmed through the newly-opened breach in the walls.

Bayonet on bayonet, bullet on bullet. Ogre, Elf, Man, Therian, Dragon or Spider-Ant, they would all fight on the walls, the courtyard and in the rooms of each and every building in Fort Solsryn. Inch by bloody inch would they push against the defenders, or be pushed back themselves. They would either be victorious or die in the attempt. There would be no middle ground. This war was being fought for the future they believed in, that they were drawn to and held dear in their hearts.

The sun continued to rise in the sky as the morning mist began to clear, set on a path predetermined. Yet the world seemed darker than ever before, as the light and luster of a Golden Age faded from the world of V'landriel.

Tiani was slowly roused by a soft tapping on his forehead, as if a stalk of wheat was swaying before her. She turned over in her bed, pulling the sheets with her, but the wheat simply continued to tap gently against the nape of her neck. Reaching out, she pushed it away and tried to focus on the pervasive warmth surrounding her for the last few minutes before she had to set out for the day. That wheat had no reason to wake her up.

"Imperial-Liaison-Truerank Tiani, we are enjoying of a paper-ink communications from the Vaugemyrs."

Tiani's eyes flicked open and she glowered at the servant standing before her, a folded piece of paper clutched in its hands. Pulling her sheets up her body, Tiani freed one hand and held it out to the servant. With precise motions, the Ot-Skodat placed the paper into her outstretched palm and bowed deeply.

"We are of collection-discussion-assembly already, Imperial-Liaison-Truerank." The Ot-Skodat added, "And now are of waitings for your attending."

It took Tiani a moment to translate, but once she had she sagged back into her bed.

"Go back to the Suite and tell them I'll be there soon." She sighed, "I'll just get changed and head out there."

"I am of ordered to-"

"Out."

The servant seemed to consider its options for a moment, before bowing again and scurrying out. Tiani frowned at that. The Ot-Skodat rarely ever used outward displays of respect. Why this one?

As she worked through the dress uniform required for her position - and showering the moon with praise that she didn't need to wear High Fashion out here - she managed to scan through the letter from the Vaugemyr. They had - apparently - declared for Ecruir and started an invasion of the Province of Avalia, which was all well and good but they also wanted her to help them in that process. Gritting her teeth she pulled on her gloves, snatched up the letter and stepped out of her suite.

By the time she reached the Vyalviur Suite she was regretting not spending ten minutes trying to wrestle her hair into some semblance of order, but there were few enough Yllendyr on this level of the Chamber that no-one would notice. She hoped, anyway. Stepping into the room, dozens of semi-insectile faces swung towards her curiously as she ran a hand through her hair and seated herself at the head of the table.

"First things first." She began, "Where's everyone else?"

"They are of approaching." One Ot-Skodat explained, "We were having contacts with much urgency, but with such distancing as we were having...delays..."

"Fine." Tiani sighed, before recognition hit her, "Why are you that servant?"

"Not of servant-truerank, but of servant-role." The Ot-Skodat replied with a click clicking of its antennae, "I am of Five-Lines Deep-Sight, the replacings of Blue-Shell Ever-Bright. I am of pleasure to become acquainted, Imperial-Liaison-Truerank Tiani."

"You- Fine. Whatever. Eluir, wonderful, sit down, I need someone who can talk properly here. Have you heard?"

"I was told that Vaugemyr's done something, but nothing more." Eluir replied, glancing around the table, "Why?"

Tiani slid the letter across the table, and he gingerly picked it up and unfolded it. For a moment he seemed to relax, then his features tightened.

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh' indeed." Tiani replied, "How's the reorganisation coming together?"

"We have four distinct Auxilia Legions. I wouldn't quite call them cohesive, however."

"Is this being of issues?" Nine-Eyes asked, "We are not within obligations to be of aiding to Vaugemyrs."

"If we don't, then we risk looking non-committal to Ecruir." Tiani sighed, "We have to at least try to help the dragons out. Which leads us back into the question - what do we have available to us?"

"We are of completing the formations of our dozen-eight-thousand." Half-Arm began, "They are having a stability in the Outerself which is of encouragement, and in the two-dozen-six-thousand we are of equal readiness. Of consternation, however, are these forces of Nok-Torrak where the organising are of problems. We can be detaching a Legion-Auxilia, but it is of...not-arrayment?"

"Disarray." Tiani corrected, "Eluir?"

"The bug has it." The Yllendyr shrugged, "Best case we've got a hundred thousand men to push in there, and I'd feel safer keeping half of that as a reserve until we can get them ordered properly and bring up a third Auxilia Legion. To compound that, we don't really have the logistical tail for a deep strike. We can posture and threaten a few settlements to the east, but if they really want to focus on the dragons we can't really stop them."

"We have been of preparation for this." Five-Lines noted, "While we are not having a landed system in place, we are having the Kol-Kurak in flight to be providing a portioning of the logisticals."

"Which is useful, but doesn't help out overall position. Unless we can get a proper logistical corps in place, we aren't participating in this conflict without Avalia's consent."

"They don't know that, though." Tiani added, "Eluir, Half-Arm, I want that first Legion across the border before this month is done, with a reserve to back them up. Five-Lines, you've got two months to get a logistical corps up and running, and I expect it done in one. Nine-Eyes, come with me. We'll need to pen a response to Vaugemyr to explain our position to them, and I'll need a messenger with a pair of Kol-Kurak ready to relay it once I'm done. Any questions?"

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Wonderful." She concluded, "Meeting adjourned."

For some reason, saying that didn't make the gnawing sickness in her stomach ease any.

---

The Outerself was abuzz with trepidation and excitement, a constant gnawing, tingling sensation at the back of her mind as Bright-Eyes Deep-Self prepared to leave the outskirts of the Nok-Kurrot behind. She could already feel the hive's Outerself recoiling slightly from her mind, the Auxilia-Outerself tightening as those within it prepared themselves for what was about to happen. There was to be a war.

The Kol-Korok stamped nearby, no doubt sensing the tension in the air. Ot-Skodat lined the grooves in their wing-cases, already looking packed beyond belief, but Bright-Eyes knew that so many more could and would be fit on. It wasn't as if the Kol-Korok were going to collapse underneath the weight - Bright-Eyes had seen those creatures survive cave-ins and continue working within the week. The Shapers had done an excellent job with them.

The Outerself pushed her forwards, towards a cluster of Ot-Skodat and a single, pale Yllendyr. The other Ot-Skodat extended their greetings as she arrived, brushing against her memories and self, but the Yllendyr remained distant - it was almost creepy, their blankness. Even still, it turned as she arrived and nodded to itself before turning back to the Kol-Korak. One of the boarding-ladders was clearing, and the clump of Ot-Skodat around them was thickening as more and more prepared to board.

"Remember, by the numbers." The elf ordered, "And stay alert. The Avalians have flyers, and if they suspect we're gunning for them they might end up ambushing us."

Bright-Eyes flexed her antennae in silent assent, reaching around to tap the rifle slung over her shoulder. She didn't know why the elf thought to explain this to her; the Auxilia-Outerself was buzzing with reminders. Half-Arm had joined it a few days ago, and that had helped to shape it in the appropriate direction - between the Outerself and word-of-mouth she had a fair grasp of their plan and how little anybody involved liked it. March east until they came to a defensible position, fortify it and then start raiding and hope that something happened.

That the Avalians had flyers was incredibly worrying, of course. The ability to directly engage with the Kol-Kurak could quite easily turn the tide of any series of skirmishes against the Ot-Skodat, and the added manoeuvrability could prove equally devastating against the twenty thousand soft-shells who were marching with them. It was a concern which had been floating around the Outerself ever since Half-Arm had arrived, and although a number of potential counters had been suggested most were infeasible - and none had been tested.

The clump was moving now, heading towards the boarding-ladder and filing up one by one. They were off to war, and all certainty was out of the window.

The Outerself hummed with energy. It had never been so alive.

As she pumped her wings and flew high above the world, watching the land below pass by deceptively slowly, Mara felt her stomach roil with anxiety. It wasn’t fear that had her on edge, but anticipation. She’d first seen the Elves wall almost an hour ago and by now she was above it, watching the enormous edifice pass by with rapt attention. There was no way to say exactly when she’d left the Forest and entered Yllendyr, such things were difficult to deduce from such an altitude, but eventually Mara knew it in her heart. She’d left the forest.

That was terrifying, exhilarating, and a little sad. She knew she hadn’t been sent on this task as a reward, knew that her father had only wanted her somewhere, anywhere, else. So many of the things she knew hurt, but she also knew those things were behind her, fading away into the distance. She’d have to face them again, but not now. For now she was soaring above a land she’d dreamed of visiting, unburdened by any responsibilities but those she’d accepted.

Time passed and she, in the manner of her people, absently memorized the route she took through the sky. Eventually she spotted what she’d been looking for. Far below there was a little clearing in the trees, unremarkable if it were not for the short tower that protruded from it. Perched atop the simple construction was a boulder uniformly painted a bright yellow. It was a sight as confusing to an outsider as it was unmistakable to a Harpy. Her people were down there.

Or, people like her? The idea of Harpies who weren’t her people, who she might not be able to understand, let alone relate to, was a difficult one to parse. Nevertheless, she began a circling descent. It wasn’t the fastest way to get to the little village, but it was the least threatening and the way she’d always been told to enter other tribes communities. Hopefully the Harpies of Yllendyr hadn’t forgotten good manners.

As it happened, and much to Mara’s pleasure, they had not. Her approach had been duly noted and a small group of Harpies had gathered by the time Mara eased herself into a landing near to the village marker. Just a glance told her that this was not the sort of village she was used to. There were a number of wooden houses made from, disturbingly, dead logs. They all faced onto a street paved with stones that seemed to vanish into the distance, cutting through the forest and leading to some distant place under the canopy that had disguised it from the air.

As for those who’d come out to meet her, they were just as peculiar as the village. At their front was an older man dressed in a black overcoat, its sleeves cut so his folded wings hung out of the arms, with an impractical tall hat. Behind him the other men were dressed in simple white shirts, also modified for their wings, and black pants. The women wore a variety of long dresses, some were even rather colourful, but none of the villagers male or female were dressed nearly as well as the man who stood before them to greet Mara. Before she could introduce herself he spoke, voice cautious but filled with curiosity, “Welcome to Teuan, friend. It is not often we have visitors from the other towns, nor ones who arrive with so little warning. May I ask where you hail from, and what your business here is?”

The rest of the villagers all regarded her inquiringly, and for a moment Mara didn’t know why. It only struck her that she was dressed in simple flying clothes when she looked down and saw the unflattering light brown fabric concealing her chest. Suddenly rather self conscious she spoke more softly than she’d intended, “Ah, I’m Mara. I don’t uh, come from around here.”

The older Harpy cocked a brow, “Yes, I figured. Do you mind telling us where you hail from Mara? It’d be helpful to know why you’re here, as well.”

“Oh,” Mara smiled nervously, “I’m from the Old Forest! The consensus sent me to meet the new Emperor, I just thought to… I was told you might have advice for me? The Harpies north of the wall know all about the Emperor right?”

The village chief, or that was what Mara guessed he was, quieted the murmurs that came from the townspeople upon Mara’s admission. He took off his hat and scratched the feathers that composed his ‘hair’ before shaking his head in disbelief, “That’s a rather unbelievable tale, miss. Of course, given your appearance, there's not many with all white feathers left up here, and the fact there’s two Emperors these days… Well, stranger things. I’m Heme, the Village head here.”

Heme paused and returned his hat to his head, “If the forest has truly sent you to meet the Emperor, or at least the one in these parts, I can at least say you cannot turn up to the Imperial residence looking like that. Expected or not the guards would toss you out dressed like a savag-… I mean to say, dressed so simply.”

Mara was naive, but she was not unaware that naivety was among her faults. She heard the near insult and took it for what it was. She was used to those, at least. Her smile weakened, but she managed to reply, “The Dryads gave me money for clothing, Village head Heme. Would you know where I could acquire some? As for guards, I am expected, but some directions to the Emperor's residence in Altairis would be appreciated.”

“Ah,” Heme paused, glanced at the small pouch at Mara’s side and then back at the other villagers before turning his attention to Mara, “The others tend to get their clothing at the common stores and modify it themselves, but I buy mine at a more reputable store in the city; one with its own tailor. If you’re willing to pay for it I could provide you a map of the city. I can point out my preferred clothing store, given they have experience fitting me they should be amenable to any requests you have, and the Emperor's southern residence.”

Mara eyed the Village head suspiciously, but the fact a number of other villagers were rolling their eyes while the rest muttered behind Heme’s back told Mara that this probably wasn’t the first time a traveller hadn’t had the most hospitable reception. Mara deflated a bit, she’d looked forward to meeting the Harpies beyond the wall, but they weren’t so different.

When she replied it was in a mirthless, if polite, tone, “How much?”

Heme had the audacity to smile, “Ah, well given this village is rather remote I imagine a five dacha note would be fair? Don’t you think so?”

In truth, Mara did not think so. Not just because she’d enjoyed speaking to the Yllendyr traders and business folk that came through, but because she just genuinely disliked Heme. From the looks he was getting from a few of his own people, it wasn’t an uncommon sentiment. Still, what choice did she have? Mara, very deliberately, reached into her pouch and produced a rather sizable roll of bills, from which she carefully extracted one before diligently returning the rest to her pouch.

The look on Heme’s face when she handed it to him was enough to restore some of the excitement she’d felt when she’d entered Yllendyr.



Mara didn’t doubt Heme had ripped her off, but she couldn’t begrudge the mans taste in clothing. She had fawned over nearly every textile and clothing store she’d encountered since entering the city, but the one Heme had directed her to was a cut above the rest. Of course, she’d later discovered it’s price was also a cut above the rest. Still, the azure and purple dress she’d come away with had been worth the four hundred and eight dacha she’d paid, probably. She certainly wouldn’t be flying in it, and it wasn’t particularly comfortable, but she’d gladly claw out the eyes of anyone who called it ugly to spare the world from their awful taste in fashion.

At least she’d had enough dacha left for a nice meal afterwards, the Elves had some truly incredible food. Or maybe it was just good, the fact she was starving from the exertion of flying for the last few days had doubtless made the meal irresistible. In any case by the time she had begun her walk to the Imperial residence she was full and satisfied by the clothing she was wearing, which might have been why she started to notice the looks she was getting from all the Yllendyr. They had to have seen Harpies before? Heme came here for his clothing, and who knew what else.

She shook her head, that was a question for another time. The Imperial residence was at the end of the next street according to the map, and when she turned the corner she knew Heme had been good for his word if not his price. The Imperial residence was an ornate palace with minarets piercing sharply into the sky, dating from the era when rival kingdoms had vied over the Yllendyr crownlands. The palace had not seen a king or emperor in more than three hundred years, until now, when it had become the headquarters of the Emperor Olarth’s court in replacement for the Vermillion Citadel.

To Mara it was, like everything else the Elves had built in this city, alien. Alien, and wonderful in a way that only something totally divorced from any architecture she’d seen before could be. Taking care not to spend too long staring Mara resolved herself and strode towards the gates of the palace with as much poise as she could summon.

The guards challenged her ong before she reached the gates, but as it happened she was expected. There was some confusion over her lack of identifying documents that led to an argument which nearly sapped all the confidence she’d so painstakingly built up from her, but apparently Harpies showing up and proclaiming themselves ambassadors from the Old Forest were uncommon enough for protocol to be relaxed.

Eventually she was allowed in, and a maidservant led her through the palace to Olarth’s war room, where he was presently occupied. A huge map laid on the table in the center. The maid opened the door to allow Mara in, and as she did so she could hear a pitched debate. Olarth was arguing with an old woman, apparently about the way he had handled a battle at some place called Imqua. Upon Mara’s entrance, however, both noted her presence and fell silent. The woman backed away, and after nodding at the new arrival, made her exit through a door on the other side of the room.

“I of course apologize it’s not the Vermillion Citadel, but it’s the best I could do in such a wartime environment. Welcome to my humble court. I’m told your name is Mara?” Olarth smiled warmly at the Harpy which had entered.

Mara did her best impression of a bow, having heard that was customary, before fumbling her first words to one of the most powerful men on the Continent, “It is, my name I mean. Mara.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mara. As you likely already know, my name is Olarth, Emperor of the Yllendyr. Or well, one of them.” He laughed sheepishly.

She blushed with embarrassment and internally cursed herself before speaking again, “Of course, Emperor. I was uh, selected by my tribe to represent the consensus of the Old Forest in your court. It’s an honour to meet you!”

“Likewise, I must say. I haven’t had the opportunity to… well, properly meet a Harpy before, so I’m glad I had the chance. Your people are fairly rare anywhere north of Sundersevain.”

“Oh,” Mara smiled brightly, silently pleased to have been the first Harpy the Emperor had met, “I had heard that there weren’t many of us in the Crownlands, though I did meet some of my people in Sundersevain on my journey. They were… Different from back home, but not terribly so.”

“How are you enjoying Altairis so far? I hope you didn’t have any troubles along the way.”

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Mara answered honestly, “I was born in one of my peoples cities, but our homes are grown from the wood of the forest. We don’t have anything made of stone, or so tall! There are so many shops too! The Weavers, Fellyr, and some of my own people have only a small number of stores merchants from outside the Forest stop at, and certainly none with such variety. Your city is incredible, Emperor.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Olarth responded magnanimously. “But perhaps it may not stay my city for long. I suppose that this brings us to the articles of business we must discuss.” His face turned darker.

“The Imperium is at war. My savage brother has likely killed one of my brothers, has definitely killed the other, and is no doubt planning to march on this city and kill me before he starts a massive manhunt for our youngest brother. And once he has done that, he will no doubt bring fire, death and destruction upon the rest of the Imperium that refuses to acknowledge his control. You likely heard his speech, so you should know what kind of a man he is. The only chance we have to stop this is now, while he is still weak and the Crownlands are divided. I hope that the Dominion of the Old Forest can assist in some way.”

Mara’s smile faltered as the discussion turned serious. She’d tried to prepare for the inevitable request, but being there when it was made was something else. She was used to politics, but nobody died at home. Or at least, not to the point of the butchery she’d heard was going on as she explored the city. She had no authority to say yes, she knew that, she’d only been authorized to forward such requests to the consensus once the radio equipment the Weavers were bringing arrived. That didn’t stop her from wanting to. She couldn’t imagine a brother or sister being slaughtered in front of her, or a nation turning on itself. There had never been a civil war in the forest, and in truth she’d had to ask a Dryad to explain the concept to her when she’d questioned why there were two Emperors in the first place.

She made no effort to hide her pained expression, “I can inform the consensus of your hope, Emperor, but I can’t promise you more. I haven’t spoken to any member of the consensus since I departed for Altairis, but having read your brothers speech in the ‘newspaper’ I bought in the city, I don’t know what they will do.”

“I suppose that’s the best I can ask for for now, then. I might ask you to relay a story that may prove persuasive.

I don’t hope to sour you on the Imperium or its people, but my brother is an especially foul specimen, much like our father… it’s hard to believe we are even twins. To preface this, I don’t know if you know, but I had four brothers. Not a single sister. Doesn’t that seem a little improbable to you?”

Mara had a sinking feeling in her stomach, “I… I suppose so.”

“The truth of the matter is, I had nine sisters. None of them survived infancy. My father claimed that daughters were weak, unfit to rule or live in his household, that there was no need for them in the Vyalviur dynasty except to marry off to foreign princes, and there were no longer any foreign princes to marry them off to. So he gave them to my brother to… dispose of. The last seven, that is, after he was older. He had some pet Harpies in a dungeon somewhere he loved to torture and play games with. Harpies he had starved nearly to the point of death, so they would take basically anything you threw to them.

And they did. All seven of them.” Olarth looked incredibly disgusted.

It had been said by many throughout history that Harpies were a feral people, a primitive race whose instincts often controlled their actions and who exercised their higher functions only after doing whatever their natures compelled them to do. Mara had long since dismissed the notion as a racist misconception held by the occasional merchant. Now though, she wondered. The talons that formed her feet clenched and dug little grooves into the Emperors floor, and the amount of effort it took to restrain herself from an outburst both shocked and shamed her.

Sympathy, horror, sorrow, rage, all these emotions swirled in her mind upon hearing Olarths story. The old Emperor, the one who she’d idolized, whose empire she credited with doing so much good, was a monster beyond even the worst of the Dragon Tyrants. Mara could not think straight, and at the least took comfort in understanding that. She had to go before Olarth told her anything else.

“I… See.” Mara paused, a look of furious indignation breaking through the calm she tried to project, “I will inform the consensus, Emperor. At once.”

“Great men often have their dark secrets, Mara. The Vyalviur Dynasty has some of the worst. This is why I hope to put an end to that terrible history, so we can rediscover ourselves and lead the world in a better way. I can see I’ve given you a lot to think about, so we can talk again another time. Elenne will show you to the quarters we’ve prepared for you.” The maidservant who brought her here appeared at the door again, bowing.

Mara bowed to the Emperor as best she could under the circumstances, which essentially amounted to a tense nod, and all but stomped out of the room. The grooves she left in the floor behind her testament to the maelstrom of emotion that raged within her.

Fibor Dynasty
Northern Province - Oni shanty town.
The word of revolutions and fighting for independence took a few weeks before it reached the northern province. It had purposely been done by noble family in charge to keep the oni population in the dark for as long as possible. However when word had arrived it had spread quickly throughout the entire oni population. The oni had long lived in poverty and word of nations fighting for freedom resonated with one particular oni who did not fear the ogres. A male oni by name of Skul who still was in prime of his life at age of ninety. He had painted his red face with white and climbed on top of a crate in the town square. Those walking about would gather around as Skul would begin to speak.

Skul "Our time is now! Across the sea others are fighting and we too can fight! Do not forget it is the ogres who came to OUR land and took it for themselves! This land is oni land and it will never be ogre land! Follow me and we will march upon the foul governors castle and burn it to the ground!"

The younger oni in the gathered crowd would cheer then they would rush off to tell others and gather what weapons they could. The Fibor Dynasty had been in control for a few centuries and oni couldn't afford newer produced guns so most only had very old muskets passed down through families. While everyone was preparing to marsh a flag would be painted. The flag would be red with a white skull on it to symbolize the one who was speaking Skul. By time everyone was prepared was around two hundred oni that would march out from the shanty town. It would take them a week at best to reach governor but they planned to stop at any village or twon them came across to try and recruit more.
<--Flag of oni rebels

Northern Province - Governors Castle.
Word had traveled fast over radio about the oni acting up in one of the mining towns. The governors castle was built up high on a plateau that let it overlook the surrounding area, highest point in the northern province. The castle itself a relic of the past having been built centuries ago though kept in working order with minor upgrades over the years. Governor Hathre was seated in his office sharpening his sword as a messenger waited to hear orders. Both the messenger and Hathre were half ogres. The minor noble family that acted as governor of the northern province was entirely half ogres.
Hathre "If the vermin are gonna march to my castle then they will learn the price. Send soldiers to gather the elders from nearby villages and prepare the guns. Also no word of the oni acting up must reach the ears of the king or greater noble families. I will handle this spectacularly. I will go down in history for my brilliance in handling this. Now leave me be."
The messenger would just give a nod before leaving quickly. Once alone Hathre would stop sharpening his sword and would laugh. It was all legend to him, the tales of fighting the oni and taking control of northern part of this island. How he wished to of been born in those times so he could participated in the fighting. Now he finally would get to fight like in stories he heard as a child. Hathre would look to the oni skull mounted on the wall of his office. It was if the stories he was told as child were correct the last oni king of this northern part of the island. He would add whoever started this rebellion to the wall. He would crush the rebellious spirit of the oni through brute force.

Grand Palace of the King - Great Hall
Talks had been very heated on topic of exactly how to respond to everything that was happening. Despite agreeing that independence should be the goal the talks were going in a circle for a while. One point would be brought up then another point that would lead back into previous point resulting in just repeating arguments. It was frustrating for all involved. The encrypted telegrams once decrypted did sway talks into siding with Olarth for a few days however the talks would go in a new direction suddenly. A new idea was brought up by the kings older brother Tiyel. By ogre standards Tiyel was a bit eccentric but his idea of simply declaring neutrality was a bold suggestion. Talks would immediately go in direction towards this neutrality idea. Not picking a side at all. It would be Tiyel who would bring up that independence was already a thing technically. With this civil war ongoing the original government that Fibor Dynasty was vassal to was not around. So in effort to remain neutral trade relations would be unchanged until one side claims victory. It would benefit the Fibor Dynasty to keep up trade with both sides. Changing diplomatic relations would go on hold as well and the Yllendyr currency would still be used for trade. However construction would begin on the ships that were restricted in number previously to increase strength of the defensive fleet. It was hoped that trading with everyone would prolong the civil war into the winter for southern continent.

It was a fairly dim day down in the Underlands of Myllenor, although that was like saying a large body of water is quite wet. There were the thin grates up in the ceiling yet they seemed to have been designed with the express purpose of letting air in, but keeping as much light as possible out. Probably so the city council could charge extra rates from the citizens of Underlands by having most of the light come from those expensive gas lamps they kept installing everywhere, Tak-Thar mused.

Not that he really considered that his problem, he lived out in District 012, a place best described he thought as somewhere so shady even the occasional gas lamp seemed to be fighting a losing battle against the shadows that hung off every surface. Probably because they were too frightened of illuminating what hid in those areas.

He shrugged, or made a movement as similar to that as you could while being a gigantic Spider-Ant, to anyone else they would see the upper two, large spiked appendages splay outwards in a twisted mockery of such an expression.

The place had its own benefits, a lack of law enforcement meant that those more dangerous of fighting rings could thrive down there, the unsanctioned underdark too. Such a place was thriving with its own sort of life and energy, one perfect for an Agurian of his size and strength. The phrase - give an Agurian an enemy to fight and they’ll be your friend for life seemed to ring most true here. Yes there were gangs and violence between them on an almost daily basis but the comradery between them was one like a close-knit family. Not to mention the pits were amazing for finding mates, he’d met his after watching her tear a rival gang trooper in half, what a lovely sight that had been.

Truth be told he much prefered the darker pits of District 012 than the cleaner, more well kept and open streets of 04. It sure was nicer by the general definition here, but out there, they were more free to be themselves, go with their “Primal” urges as it were. Sometimes he wondered if he should move on out there, mingle with the others that lived there, see the sights.

Although anything would be considered a sight to the one he was currently seeing, comprised of mostly brick walls rushing past the exterior of the train, with the occasional glimpse of sidestreet and then the main roads beyond. All in all, not the most interesting of sights, but still it was better than seeing the one inside Big Nym’s furnace.

“Stopping at District 04, central platform!” The voice of a fairly dissintered elf blared over the loudspeaker.

Tak-Thar looked up then swung his four eyes outward to face the incoming platform, he could already her the low level chattering, both literally and figuratively of the crowd outside. Soon he’d be out there and completing his task, then he could retreat back to the safety of the darker pits of outer districts.

Putting one appendage out onto the platform he could already feel the difference through the feelers in his legs, the ground was more smooth, less cracked in random places and more in a proper grid layout. It was weird and he felt odd standing on it, back down in District 012 he could tell exactly where he stood simply through the differences in ground material, here everything was too samey and he didn’t like it.

Still he had his orders and he was going to carry them out, it wasn’t like there was any way he could shirk these either, bodies just don’t around disappearing by themselves and he had nowhere near the appetite to clean all of it up.

Not that it was a bad walk per say, just a short tram ride on the silver line was it? He checked the instructions once more, yes it was the silver line. Two stops, down Valium street then onto Solaris Boulevard, just a quick ten minute journey.

He could have walked, in fact he’d taken much longer strolls back at home, but here he just wanted to be in and out. He’d just hand the ticket over and hop on the back and sure enough, nine minutes he was there, stepping off as the tram trundled on off further down Solaris boulevard down towards the banking sector.

Looking around fervently he took one look around before heading slightly further up the street towards a gigantic building which seemed to forcefully be pushing the buildings next to it away in a bid to expand outwards. It even reached up to the concrete ceiling above where it stretched on into the Groundlands then Skylands above.

As he stepped up to the door it was almost impossible to notice the uniformed Agurians and elves which stood sharply to attention around the exterior of the structure. None of them appeared armed, but that was a front, he knew from experience each was concealing a small handgun somewhere about their person.

Even considering where he came from these were not a group he ever wanted to mess with, each one having far more training than the simple fights and gang wars could provide him. Keeping his gaze firmly locked on the door he pushed the outer doors open and was greeted with the familiar sight of exuberant decadence, crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling far above, each desk within the hall protected by finely gilded bars. Guards in their sharp uniforms patrolling the ground and many walkways above. Even the grand staircase lived up to its word, the finest and painstakingly decorated carpets lining its bannisters, each individually decorated.

He knew the clark he had been ordered to speak to, a large bulky Agurian languishing in an empty booth waiting for a new customer, that person just happening to be Tak-Thar. As he approached he could already recognise the face of Big Nym, one of undertakers running the Underlands sector of Liari and co undertakers.

“Ahh! Tak-Thar, my favourite soldier of the grey-hounds! What brings you to our humble establishment today, had another raid?” As the beast of an Agurian opened its mouth Tak-Thar saw the familiar set of golden mandibles which if shone with a torch would glitter like a minature disco, not that anyone would want to try that, usually if they did they’d soon find themselves attempting to navigate the inside of a furnace.

“Yeah, we got hit with another one, gave em as good as we got mind you.”

“Oh I don’t doubt you did! Very tough lot you are, but excellent customers. I’ve had many a job from other gangs because of you!”

Tak-Thar nodded slowly, it was a routine that he was all too familiar with, the little round of niceties before they got down to business. His boss called it diplomacy, he just called it pointless.

“So how’s the mate, still tearing people in half? Good good!”

“I’m sure she will be sending a few your way soon.”

Big Nym laughed, a rough sound, which always sounded closer to a large number of saucepans being battered together rather than the one it was supposed to be imitating. “I’m sure she will, now about this business, how many bodies ya got?”

“About 16, 9 of ours, 7 of theirs”

“Well, well well, that must have been a right old fight eh? Getting to work on rebuilding already eh?” As he spoke the undertaker leaned forward slowly, An appendage reaching into the carefully crafted suit he wore, “Well for such a good customer, would you like a nice sample of our latest? We have the finest Spirit and Bliss.”

The Agurian’s mandibles chattered together excitedly, it had been a while since he’d had either and the internal craving for both had grown, yet it had also been too long since he’d been in the pits, something that Spirit was certain to solve. “It’ll be Spirit for me.”

“Wanting to impress the mate eh? Well don’t you worry, I’ll have an extra special case sent right up for you, now run along and tell your boss the job will be 800 Dacha, make sure to have it ready when our team arrives.”

Then that was it, he was free to head back to District 012, back to the darkness where he belonged. Tak-Thar breathed a sigh of relief and skittered happily on his way, completely unaware of the wars going on outside of the Dominion.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Up above in the totally different city of Thalor was a flurry of far more political activity, most of which was centered on The Senate House, the seat of government with Lieria. White smoke billowed from the central dome indicating that the session currently in order was not merely a normal one where small and petty matters were argued for days on end, but one that concerned the entire future of the Dominion.

Of course every citizen with a radio and most of the ones without knew the reason for this: the civil war that had erupted across the Imperial heartlands, fought by two of the sons of the old and now deceased emperor, the fact that three of the Imperial dominions had rebelled and chaos was spreading throughout the empire.

Throughout the streets there was not so much an atmosphere of fear or even tension at the news, but more one of excitement and anticipation. While those up in the Skylands cursed this news as something that brought confusion and disruptions to trade routes, but one thing was certain in the hearts in the hearts and minds of the people, Lieria was going to go to war.

Within the centre of the Senate house, two radically different debates were currently going on, the first inside the general assembly chambers resembled more a 14 way skirmish than it did any reasonable debate or sense of coherence, although that was more due to the fact that most were waiting for the Elected Council to finish debating

Inside the Council room 9 elves sat around a round table engaged in a heated, but eerily calm debate. This was after all something that not one of them were willing to descend into argument when if something was to be done it was to be done quickly.

“I refuse to pick a side in this, we should be turning our guns outwards, not inwards at our own allies!”

“You say that they’re our allies, but have you not considered, Ecruir is a hardline supremacist! We cannot allow someone like that to be ruling the Imperium! So much of our benefits come from the trade and openness we have fostered over these last few years! So much of our businesses thrive from the current setup!”

“As much as I hate to admit it Vulwyn here has a point, while we may not see eye to eye on many matters, Lieria has been growing under the current ruling, a man such as Ecruir would be disastrous for our nation.”

“Well I for one -”

“I present the motion that the Council votes to support Olarth in the civil war.”

Eight heads turned to face the single most controversial figure in Lierin politics, someone who’d just gone and done the thing that they were all dancing around actually doing.

A single dissenting voice spoke up, it all seemed to quick for them, the opposing side was gaining momentum and that was never something they wanted. “Surely it is a bit too early for that, we can’t just jump straight to it can we…?”
“I second that motion!”

Aimon stared at Zentha gratefully, his eyes expressing a silent thank you at the speed in which she’d recovered and pushed forwards towards their current shared goal. Both knew that an edge if maintained during a debate was crucial for not giving the opposition time to think and speak, especially when that time usually included making alliances and deals.

Inianlos was the next to speak up, as the oldest and most venerable member of the council he was the one expected to lead into the new parts of sessions, acting practically as the defacto chair. “Well then, with a seconded motion we now move into the next phase, each member of the council shall have no more than five minutes to put forward their arguments for this meeting.” He slowly leant forward and reached into the pot infront of him, taking great care to rummage around before producing a single slip of paper. “Our first speaker will be Kidhel Quilen of the Military Front.”

The slightly aged elf looked around before standing up in his chair. His single violet eye surveying the assembled council before him with that calculating glare he was so well known for, before softening into warm gratefulness. “I am thankful that I was the one chosen to speak first for I have many thing to address to you here, however the most important of which is that no matter the decision here Lieria is going to have to militarise.”

He paused letting out a deep sigh before continuing. “I know in the past I have been accused of pursuing a military agenda to the detriment of this nation, on occasion by different members of this council and I do admit that sometimes in the past I may have been hasty in some of my judgements like damning democracy for being a weak and inefficient system, especially since the current crisis could only have been caused by such a system as the one the Imperium operates under. Yet here I say that declining to increase our military is inviting a disaster, if we choose to support a side in the civil war shall we rely only on the Auxila and the Blood Red Dogs? If any of you can seriously sit there and tell me that you think that this will cut it then you are asking for another nation to attack us!”

The assembled members looked at each other, a few remained silent, but a few still spoke up muttering words of agreement, in particular Ayrae and Vulven who spoke up properly to share their agreement. “If Lieria is to join this war, we need to be prepared! That means we need an army. One more than just the Blood Red Dogs. Our people will listen, after all this is the fight that our blood calls for!”

“As always Vulven you’re way of fire and brutality carries with it its own harsh beauty, I couldn’t agree more, the people deserve a right to defend themselves!”

Gingerly and with the care someone might take when handling a newly born child Kidhel produced a small file on which was written, Special Order: 36 the remilitarisation of Lieria. Then with with a look of soft satisfaction placed it upon the table face up.

“You do realise that by issuing a special order we will have to wait a week before deciding something again?”

Kidhel nodded, his single eye staring emphatically at Inianlos, the path to retake Lierins power to defend itself under its own strength was one he’d striven for all his life and now in this moment he was going to see it come to fruition.

----------------------------

In the bunker underneath the central city fort that housed the Lierin’s elite forces known simply as the Blood Red Dogs, several candidates were undergoing the final test. The last and most brutal of the many exams to prove oneself worth of joining the Blood Red Dogs.

The small metal door, barely wide enough for an Agurian to step through and just as tall slid slowly back to reveal a large circular chamber, for those entering it took a few seconds for their eyes to adjust to the fog and the smoke, but once they did the pair saw:

A blasted landscape, fires licked hungrily away at the twisted and blackened stumps of what were unmistakably the ruins of Lierin towers, broken segments of bridge lay scattered about the street and a corpse, too realistic to have been a fake lying half crushed under one segment. Their torso severed at the waistline in what had clearly been a slow and angonising struggle to try and save whatever remained of their shattered husk. .

In those seconds the difference in reactions was startling, the first, an Agurian immediately began looking for cover, a wall to at least hide place behind them. If they were to face the enemy they’d do it from the front, clearly whatever this test was it was a last stand of some sort and they were going to face it from the front.

The other: A small horned elf of around 32 years had an almost manic sparkle in her eyes, one that seemed to both translate, fear, adrenaline and above all else, excitement. She had trained for this for so long and she was ready to slaughter anything that was coming. With movements that jittered with excitement she grabbed a flask from her belt and downed the sickly sweet liquid inside.

Her smile began to grow as the drug began to take its effects, seeming into her nervous system, pulling on primal desires, chaos, bloodlust and above all her warriors spirit. Down here she was going to face whatever monsters were part of this last test and she was going to crush them all, as brutally as she could.

A screeching cry, rang out from the walls, bouncing around the walls, distorting and twisting until it seemed like the very stone itself was yelling a battlecry at them.

Eletha spun several times, each time she thought she’d pinpointed the new source of the sound and each time her eyes failed to see any movements, it was still moving, charging around out of sight.

“COME AND GET ME YA FAKING PANSIES!” She roared out the challenge, her lungs feeling like they were bursting were sheer animal ferocity.

Her bellowed challenge did not go unheeded and the screech echoed it back, yet this time she was more certain of its direction, it wasn’t just one but many, all coming from every direction all at on -

Crack!

Alvis-Thar discharged his rifle, watching in satisfaction as the first of the beasts slumped back down out of side, its head missing the part where the brain usually should have been stored.

Two more appeared, this time charging out from where the shattered bridge lay strewn across the road, their fangs dispersing small flecks of gore as they charged. Each of the creatures sported two pairs of eyes, all of which were being trained right on Eletha,

Crack! One went down, the internal organs in its brain rupturing as the bullet smashed through its skull and tore through the soft tissue inside. Crack! She’d spun her gun over just in time to score a glancing blow on its side, wounding, but not killing the creature. Yet even with this abomination bearing down on her, she stood her ground, before twisting downwards at the last moment, jamming the rifle but against the ground.

The two collided with a crunch, a sickening howl of pain exploding forth from the creature as it impaled itself on the bayonet, the force of the charge driving it deeper into its underbelly. The writing agonised spasms of a beast desperately trying to paw a spear from its body was only silenced when with an almost gleeful delight Eletha rammed her knife down into its forehead.

The skin on the palm of her right had almost been ripped away the force of the collision, yet still the fingers tightened once more around the hilt of the knife, forcefully wrenching the blade free from the fragments of bone that could have once have been called a skull.

Behind her the sound of more rifle fire proved to her at least for now, Alvis was doing his job, so long as the rifle kept sounding she didn’t need to watch her back, not that it would have mattered much too anyway.

Taking one look at the shards of rifle remaining she turned away, it was no use even sparing extra thoughts on what was now useless to her. Seeing no other option she drew another knife and spun around once more, doing her best to figure out any place where the next attacker was going to come from.

Her answer was not a long time coming as within moments another creature had burst forth through a wall and brought its appendages down swiftly towards her arms. She only managed to just about throw herself out of the way with a few scratches, small dots of blood pricking their way up through the skin where sharp blades had barely scratched the surface.

Up a blade came, the elf using her momentum to flow into a counterattack. A moment later the creature was hemorrhaging gore from where her knife severed through one of the creatures limbs.

Startled it reared backwards in pain, teeth desperately biting on the thin air between them as if it could somehow reach and destroy its adversary.

Thunk.

One of the daggers lodged itself within the creatures skull, thrown with enough accuracy to reach its mark.

Smiling at a job well done Eletha turned to face any new threats -

Crunch.

She could feel her bones snapping under its bite, the teeth severing the flesh and yet the drug flowing through her veins dulled the pain, she felt it tore free, the sensation of something missing that should have been vital to her.

Her left arm swung round still holding a blade and jammed it forcefully into the creatures eye, holding the blade there, not letting the creature squirm itself away from her grip. Then with as much ferocity as she could muster she lowered her head and rammed forward into its face.

There was a moment of resistance then she broke through, slamming her horns through the beasts forehead. She didn’t even bother checking to see if the thing was dead before repeating the move again and again. Only when she could only feel a mushy pulp beneath her charges did she slow down and take stock of her surroundings.

Her right arm was gone from the elbow.

The realisation hit her like a brick, slamming into her and pushing her down to the group. “FUCK!” She screamed out loud before toppling over backwards, her body half buried in corpses.

A few hours later she blearily opened her eyes for a few seconds, glancing around to see a few figures bending over her in an unknown location.

“You think she’ll be good for our little additions?”

“She has the needed requirements, if this fails and she dies then so be it.”

“How long will rehab take?”

“We don’t know, she’s strong so perhaps shorter than me…”

“Well we’ll see.”

Her eyes clouded back over again and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

---------------------

Back up above Lieria was preparing for war.

January 17th, 4901 YDC (Yllendyr Dynastic Calendar)
Imperial Auxiliary Garrison, Dominion of Kitagawa

"Hey, Luna, wait up!" Lunastri looked around for the familiar voice calling after her as she walked out of the officer's barracks. Lieutenant Amara was waving at her as she rushed to catch her. Amara had been her closest friend for the past two years, after she made Lieutenant. The two regularly chatted in the mess hall about the grief their respective squads put them through. She was a sun elf noble, and therefore of considerably higher social status, but Amara couldn't care less. That was one of the things Lunastri loved about her.

"How's it going, Amara? Come to see me off?" Lunastri slowed to accommodate the panting elf girl.

"Absolutely. You're getting assigned a new squad today, right?" Despite running down the length of an entire huge hallway, Amara was as cheerful as ever. Lunastri wondered how she was ever able to keep up with this girl's energy.

"Yep. I have no idea what I'm going to get this time, so it'll be... fun, I hope?" Lunastri shrugged optimistically. Amara gave her a sympathetic look.

"I actually was also told to give this to you." Amara handed over a small package to Lunastri. She gave the sun elf a quizzical look. "What's this for?"

"Er, um... apparently they had an extra chainmail shirt lying around from a high officers' shipment, and they wanted to give you something as compensation..."

"Compensation?" Lunastri was dumbfounded for a moment, and then as Amara waved goodbye and started backing away, it clicked in her head. "Hey, get back here! What do I need to be compensated for?" The speedy girl was already basically gone, so Lunastri sighed. She had no idea what she was getting into, but now she was sure it wasn't good. Lunastri threw the package in her backpack and reluctantly walked the rest of the way outside.

She made her way to the spot where her new squad was supposed to report in, and then briefly balked when she saw them from a distance away. This was... without a doubt, the most eclectic band of misfits Lunastri had ever seen. She had to pause for a second, mentally steel herself, and then approach. The officer who was holding down the fort for her began, "First Lieutenant Lunastri present! All troops, attention!"and then nodded so as to say "good luck" before departing.

Lunastri made her way down the line, looking at the thirteen members of her squad present. Apparently there was one not accounted for, some horned elf with no sense of time. Lunastri sighed and figured it was to be expected, but was glad at least it wasn't an even larger dragon than the one she already had.

"Good morning, soldiers. You're now officially members of my squad, Squad 6. My name is Lunastri, you can either call me that or Lieutenant, either is fine. Let me just say that I know half this auxilia are filled with officers that have sticks so far up their asses they can't even bend over to tie their own shoelaces, but Squad 6 is not one of these. I may be Yllendyr, but I'm a soldier, same as you, and I intend to respect you as long as you can respect me. I've been a commissioned officer for the last two years, since I was promoted from Sergeant Major. I can see that you're a diverse group, so I'll do the best I can to accommodate, but do know that I expect you all to follow orders promptly. Finally, I'd like to get to know all of you, so I'll start at the end of the line here and I'd like you to tell me your name, rank, and any other pertinent information that you think I might need to know about you to best facilitate your membership and cooperation in this squad."

Lunastri looked at the first member in the line.

"Corporal Raenys Syrzolny, reporting for duty, Lieutenant!" The first one said whilst saluting. "I'm a Wood Elf hailing from Endaria." She began to relax herself as she continued in her smooth, urban Yllerian accent. "I'm supposed to have been made a Commissioned Officer, but for some reason, I was told that there was an...oversupply. So they've made me a Corporal until they can find a vacancy for me! I'm quite proficient in the use of lightning and swordsmanship, and if the proper requisition forms can be filled out to get me a horse, a skilled cavalryman as well!"

Swordsmanship, the woman said. Luna had had a few of those. They were always hotblooded, and didn't care much for staying in line with the others. Still, this girl looked like she was hardly going to be the worst problem of the bunch.

"Iolaos Totos of the Daedalos bloodline, ma'am! I am from the land of Ithaké, Kyrennos Commonwealth. I am qualified shaman and graduated with high marks as a pathfinder. At your service! " The tall man with four legs stood in attention. He's a centaur of the runner breed, built like an athlete even if slender by his species' standards. His stern expression was accompanied with a goatee and fu manchu style mustache which only made him more threatening. His wild appearance befitted the Yllendyr stereotype about centaurs as 'noble savages'. His tanned skin and loose uniform suggested a person more comfortable outdoors. Most mages earned special treatment in the Auxilia and having magic capability was a sure ticket to promotions. Although shamans were an odd exception to this as their weird indirect use of magic was considered less than reliable. The fact this man became a specialist in spite of this stigma implied he knew more than just his ancestral spellcasting habits and must have worked hard to earn this title. His solemn yet reserved demeanor radiated professionalism.

Proud and professional. Iolaos met every expectation Luna had about centaurs and then some. She appreciated having someone so experienced, but worried nonetheless that he would end up being a little insufferable. It was then out of the corner of her eye she saw someone approaching the squad from behind them.

---

"Oh dude, what's the time?"

Rina wasn't asking this to anyone in particular, in fact it seemed that everyone in the temporary bunk she'd been given had already upped and left without her. Probably because they were all too kind to disturb her sleep and nothing to do with the fact she was a drugged out Lierin, at least that was her assumption. Not that she would have made a concerted effort to actually hurry herself had she been waking up on time or not, even so she went through her waking schedule with a fairly laid back ease. At first she sent a few combs through her hair that did little to halt the generally wild and slightly feral look they gave her, although she felt that was rather fitting for her background so always left it that way.

After her nice and relaxing morning routine she finally turned to the matter of getting herself properly dressed to go out into the camp and while she and for that matter Lieria had a different idea to the rest of the world as to what "properly dressed" meant she still was going to take a lot of care over this one. The first step was to get her uniform on and make sure it had something, it really didn't matter what to Rina, but it had to be there that wasn't quite right about it. Next she ran through her small if not substantial collection of earrings before choosing the one she always wore when she wanted to show off: a small bone set carved into miniature skulls, she'd had to work hard for these and in a way they were her most treasured possession.

She would have gone further had a craving not set in deep within her chest, one that she was all too obliging to fill. Not even bothering to hide it she rolled up a joint before lighting it with one of her matches that always seemed to be produce somewhere from some new pocket.

Now she felt she was ready, her uniform all set, her earring in and an otherwise total obliviousness to anyone looking strangely at her as she went through the camp, deep in her own self-contented haze.

Upon moving into sight of the rest of the squad she sent one hand to run through her hair, doing absolutely nothing to solve anything, she wanted to look appropriate for the situation after all. Her eyes cast one glance over the rest of the crew, they were a ragged lot, but to her eyes it looked the peak of military professionalism. It took a few seconds before her eyes properly alighted on Lunastri and a flicker of recognition appeared within the junkies eyes. "Oh dude, you must be Luni our squad leader, it's totally great to meetcha!"

As she spoke she strolled forward with the confident air of someone who had no worries that they needed to care about, extending a hand in a friendly greeting towards her squad leader.

Lunastri looked askance at the young woman bumbling towards her straight through the line who was probably, no, definitely high on something. She had the instinctive urge to facepalm, but resisted it. "Nice to meet you too, Rina." she said exasperatedly, tentatively shaking hands with the elf. "The name's Lunastri, and do line up with the others, thanks."

As her extended hand was taken and shook, Rina would offer Lunastri a beaming smile, one that would do very little to hide the fact she wasn't entirely heading into the line yet. "Yeah I'm Rina, I'll be one of your privates."

It would take a few seconds before she actually released Luna's hand and moved back towards the line, almost as if everything was doing everything on delay, which considering her state, she almost certainly was. At least for now it looked like she wasn't going to do anything else, right up until she was one or two steps away from entering the line when the spun around, her eyes sparkling with the same sort of glint that would usually be associated with inventors perfecting their designs. "Oh Luni, you're new to this squad too right? Maybe we could ... like hang sometime or other, get to know each other better and maybe ..."

She trailed off slowly, a look of sheepishness which didn't really look like it had a place on her face stealing across it, if only for a second. When it left it was replaced by the seeming default of happy obliviousness that had been present so far in their meeting. "Nice uniform though, looks good on ya." Lunastri just kind of stood there, flabbergasted.

When Rina had found her place at the end of the line, the lieutenant continued, shaking her head.

This was not a good sign for things to come. Taina stood at attention in what might pass for a "line" among her squad members. She'd had military etiquette drilled into her for as long as she could remember. How could she not, when her father was the Field Marshal himself? Despite that, it seemed that not only was she one of the very few who even bothered to stand at the ready when their leading officer came, but was also one of the few with a kept in check uniform. Taina was certainly no stickler for the rules, as some previous commanding officer would be quick to tell, but this was ridiculous.

The dark elf introduced herself accordingly and gave a decent enough first impression for Taina. Soon, it was her turn to speak. "Ma'am! I'm Corporal Taina Adron, formerly of the Winged Fusiliers of Avalia! I've come to serve my part for the Imperium!" she said, remaining at attention. A standard enough answer, if she wanted any more then she'll have to ask for it. As for the rest of the squad, Taina was.... unsure of. Some seemed half-way confident, others...others shouldn't have even made it past basic training, or even recruitment, let alone to a full squad. The horned elf that had simply strolled up to the officer nearly made Taina's jaw drop at the level of self importance this woman had to be so brash. That or drugs. Definitely drugs. At least see seemed like a nice druggy.

Either way, it seemed to Taina that if this officer managed get through the month without having or getting one or two of the members of the squad lined up against a wall with a cigarette in their mouth, then this dark elf was worth following anywhere.

Little did she know that a month later, the entire world would have drastically changed. Taina's brief response made a slightly positive impression on Luna, she was glad to have someone who didn't seem to carry much personal baggage... she hoped, likely in vain.

Upon seeing her new squad Emanuae had been excited, giddy even. Whereas an officer might have seen the motley band as a nightmare in the making, Emanuae saw only the chance to interrogate the most interesting new people about their lives and homelands. Well, interesting aside from the Dragon. It wasn't that she unconditionally despised all Dragons, despite their fraught history with the lizards not even Dryads could honestly say that, but rather the fact that this one had managed to irritate her without so much as a word spoken. From the obsequious behavior of the lizards attendant to the obnoxiously haughty air of the Dragon itself, Emanuae was unimpressed. There was a difference between expecting respect and demanding worship, and it seemed that this example of the Draconic species hadn't learned that. Of course, it being a child among a race of children was a mitigating factor, after all the pathetic thing likely couldn't light a campfire, let alone assault the forest like the great drakes of old had.

Still, one aggravating lizard was worth it if she got to talk to all the others assembled here. Valkyrians, so much like her homelands Harpies, and yet so different! Centaurs, from what she'd heard they were truly a peculiar species! Even a... What was it the Weavers called them? Emanuae wasn't sure she'd heard a single term, but they all roughly translated to 'Annoying Snack'. Well, snack or not the little thing seemed nice enough. She hoped it would be able to hold a conversation, but if it couldn't she wasn't without other prospects. Why, there was even a Vaspen in the squad!

Alas, her musings were cut short when Lunastri came to Emanuae's spot in line. Well, demanding an introduction was rather rude, but she was expected to follow the 'orders' of the Elves so long as she was in their army after all. Standing tall and puffing out her chest as to strike a more respectable pose than the slouching Horned elf had, Emanuae spoke with a great deal more self assurance than anyone of her rank had a right to, "Private Emanuae of The Old Forest, Lieutenant! I am here fulfilling the treaty obligations of the Forest, pleased to meet you!"

"Pleased to meet you as well, Private. It's an honour to have a Dryad in my squad." Luna nodded approvingly at Emanuae before continuing.

And then she came across a youth that had been standing quietly at attention in the middle of the line. He looked so ordinary that he was nigh-invisible, and in his face there was no apathy or hatred or friendliness...just the robotic feel that one might expect from one that toiled every day on some monotonous assembly line. The only remotely interesting thing about him was the peculiar golden ring upon one of his fingers, but that was a minute and easily missed detail. He took a step forward and called out, "Private Hirst, standing ready." There was an accent to his words, and his stoic disposition betrayed a hint of frustration as he tried to find the words. The elven language was giving him some difficulty, but he was at least passably fluent. "Aurelian by birth, here to serve honorably. And get paid," Gideon finished before falling back into the line.

"Nothing wrong with wanting that too," Luna chuckled. The boy didn't stand out too far to Lunastri, just another everyday human.

Suda Totoya stood at attention with his back straight as a ruler. Staring straight ahead of him, Suda gave his name and rank to Lunastri when she walked over to him. Being just a private and a Yamato, he had a hard time believing that she will respect him given the human slavery practiced by the Yllendyr. "I'll be serving in this squad as the recon scout since we are in the Home Island." With that, Suda simply shut up and remained still as a monk statue.

Yamato, brittle as usual. She simply exchanged looks with the man before passing on to...

Smoog thought the ceiling looked funny. He'd seen a lot of ceilings, and forgotten most of them. There was an elf in front of him... looking at him. Smoog thought the ceiling looked funny. The elf was still there. Suddenly, Smoog remembered exactly *why* the elf was looking at him. "Pravit Smoog, da mijit... FUR DA IMPEERUM!" His shout had a confidence about it only a child could have when playing war with their friends, oblivious to what the title they professed to hold even entailed. He accompanied his declaration with a left handed salute, as his right hand had a rifle hastily lashed to it with a length of rope. His gaze slowly drifted from the elf, ever upwards, all the while maintaining the saluting posture. Smoog thought the ceiling looked funny.

Why this goblin had even found his way into the auxilia Luna had no idea, but she appreciated his loyalty, at least. Hopefully this wouldn't be too much trouble.

Next was the 'other' Valkyrian - a male for once, and he wasn't a very impressive one. Meek in appearance. Before responding, he actually looked to his side at the final member of the squad's lineup, as if to get permission. Luna could see the evident relationship here, and took note of it. Not surprising for a dragon.

'Private Artyem of Guineyveadr, reporting for duty, Lieutenant. I am a faithful servant and Dragoon of the Sauumr Dynasty of Vaurgemyr, on lease to the Imperium. If you need know more, my master will inform you'. He said in clinical, if deadpan precision before gesturing to his side.

The Dragon didn't even bother to pretend to salute or stand at attention. She wasn't even in anything resembling a uniform, and in fact seemed to be wearing a combination of silk, gold and feathers in the approximation of a highly flamboyant dress. Luna hardly expected it to be otherwise, but it was disappointing nonetheless. Still, few squads could claim the privilege of having an actual dragon, even if this one was considerably smaller than those she had heard about.

'Humph' The Dragon voiced, almost squeakily so, while performing what was what Luna could most closely equate to a cat stretching. 'And that master would be me. I am the Lady Guineyvea Hermasliz Vurmulagon-Slathing und Sauumr and incidentally a Private for reasons beyond me. That was very insulting mind you - I will make sure your General hears from my father, the Lord Sauumr'. The Dragon, Guinevyea, then stood up to its full height which was barely above that of an adult human male. 'Until this foolish mistake by your leaders is corrected, you have the privilege and honour of being graced by my very own presence. My tutors say I am the best mage they have ever trained, which means I'm probably the best here! Oh, also, hum, I think I'm also a medic or some-such.

Oh, this was going to be fun to deal with. And she thought the centaur was bad.

Finally at the end of the line stood an old school Vaspen soldier, dressed in standard Yllendyr military uniform the only difference being the special spiked helmet that Vaspen soldiers used to wear decades before. His face is stoic, and disdainful upon looking at his new CO. As Luna took in this sight she noticed the scars on his arms and legs from what seems like old wounds that hadn't healed properly.
Upon seeing Luna reach the end of this motley crew of soldiers, He looks down at Luna and says: "Dietricht Burkhalter, Sergeant." He gives the standard salute and continues "I've been in the police and army for the past 20+ years, I've seen many of my brothers in arms die by my side so forgive me if i don't get too close to any of you all." looking down the line of misfits he says this and then turns back to facing forward and looks straight over Luna's head into the distance with a blank face.

Lunastri had seen many rough-looking soldiers in her time, and this one was definitely pretty high up there. She didn't expect to get much out of him, but hopefully on the other hand he wouldn't cause trouble either.

When Luna had passed along to the end of the line, she sighed. Amara certainly wasn't kidding when she said that she deserved compensation, but it would take a lot more than a fancy chainmail shirt to make up for this. "All right, Squad 6, very good. We're going to be conducting some rifle drills so I can see how you all are keeping up your skills. Sergeant Dietricht, will you lead everyone to the firing range?" The Vaspen nodded, and barked the traditional orders of command. As the squad half-marched, half-leisurely strolled or stumbled towards their destination, Lunastri knew the road ahead of her was a long one. She was glad that she was due to be discharged in a couple of months. Hopefully, she'd never have to lead this highly incongruous band in anything more than a training exercise.

February 17th, 477 AFK

Operation Helm Splitter

Situation

AO: Helmstedt
Terrain: City
OAKOC:
Observation and Fields of Fire - Available upon arrival to AO
Avenues of Approach - Land, Sea
Key and Decisive Terrain - None
Obstacles: Buildings, Civilians
Cover and Concealment: Buildings, Sewers
Enemy:
Disposition: Yllendyr Loyalists. Morale unknown
Composition: Unknown. At least 2 legions in Northern region. Primarily infantry. Support artillery and medical corps included
Strengths: 100,000 strong at least (assuming both legions are in the city). Modern/Semi-modern weaponry.
Weaknesses: Distracted by rebel elements
Friendly:
Higher Mission and Intent: Support Vaspen rebellion and claim Helmstedt
Adjacent Unit Mission: Rebels with unknown intent
Civil Considerations: Do not kill civilians or destroy buildings unnecessarily.
Attachments and Detachments: 400 Cadrin berserkers, 400 Ashin rifle infantry, 100 Lodnorian rifle infantry, 50 Azurian medical corps units, 50 Lodnorian support artillerymen.

Mission

This Endarian incursion is going to attack and attempt to gain control of Helmstedt to allow for additional supplies and reinforcements to go between Endaria and Vaspen. This is to support the rebellion.

Execution

Land in the harbor. Let the berserkers loose and start their slaughter of anyone wearing an Yllendyr uniform. They will be divided into 40 squad sized elements so as to give them a slightly higher chance of killing hostile squad elements. After the berserkers are let loose, Ashin infantry split into platoon elements and follow them. They will claim key military resources (weapons, ammunition, artillery, medical supplies) from the enemy and keep moving outward until they meet decisive resistance. Lodnorian infantry form a perimeter around the port and begin questioning the local populace of the current situation concerning the rebels and the loyalist legions. Azurian medical corps will set up a field hospital for the wounded. Lodnorian artillerymen will set up their 25 mortars (the only modern pieces officially owned by Endaria) and await orders of where to fire upon enemy units.
Once the situation is discerned, the forces at port will begin distributing guns and ammunition to the rebel people of the city and send them to join the Ashin infantry fighting against the Yllendyr forces. The hope is that at least 2,000 civilians take up arms and join the fight. The intended end state of the operation is to claim the city of Helmstedt for the local rebellion and route the Yllendyr legions.

Sustainment

unimportant...

Command and Signal

unimportant…

The king puts down his pen and rolls backward. His favorite swivel chair allowed him the freedom to move swiftly around the room with little effort. He stands up and rubs his eyes. It is 4 in the morning, the day before his incursion is deployed. Judging by the current state of the OPORD, this is a suicidal mission. No contact with the local rebels and the possibility of facing over 100,000 enemy soldiers, the likelihood of failure is certain. Even so, supporting the rebels is crucial to his grand designs. He looks at his desk where he has other papers strewn about. “The Zealot Corps” is scrawled in large print on one of them. Another is a document titled “The Endarian Alliance.”

“Indeed” he murmurs to himself. “There is much to be done to prepare for what is to come...” He walks over to the door where he has an ancient skull displayed. “... to prepare for their return…”

Someone knocks on the door, startling him. He opens it and finds Gwyndolin on the other side. “Ah, Gwyndolin, you surprised me. It is late. I assumed you were still in bed.”

“Indeed I was in bed, but I could not help but feel uneasy about your health. Ever since the meeting with the faction leaders, you have been staying up until very late and have been getting less than three hours of sleep. My personal handmaid can attest to it so don’t you dare lie to me.” The innocent demeanor she exudes coupled with her anger at Zealossus is one that is oft unseen. He is somewhat taken aback by this before realizing her full beauty. Light brown hair that is normally tied back in a braid now flows down to her lower back. Her dazzling emerald eyes stand apart from her beautiful azure nightgown.

Zealossus coughs, his face flush with embarrassment. “I apologize for worrying you, though I cannot help myself. I am merely trying to do my best as the king to do what is right for the kingdom.”

“Waging wars to bring us to the world stage?”

Zeal does a fake laugh, knowing that she disagrees with war of any kind.

“I helped you to become king because I thought the Seventh King would be the first king to bring Endaria toward peace, but I guess it’s all the same no matter who’s on the throne. If there’s no war, they go find one.”

Normally, Zeal would be outraged by this, though he can’t deny her innocence, and he can’t help but feel self aware in his tired state. “Indeed, I am a reprehensible man.” He walks out of his room and closes the door behind him. Gwyndolin stands before him now with an anxious look after his comment. “Indeed, I am not worthy of the throne, nor is anyone. The only thing we can do is our best, though most of the time that isn’t enough. I am using Endaria to fit my needs, my ambitions, and for that I am quite reprehensible...” He pauses, now at the edge of tears. “...Even so,” he continues, “I will do everything in my power to make Endaria a better place, especially when we become a world power. I will do everything in my power to do what is right, even when not everyone agrees. And I will do what I must to protect the people of Endaria...” A single tear falls down his face, as if he was blaming himself for something unknown to the world.

Gwyndolin sheds tears as well, and whimpers, “I’m sorry, Zeal, I-” She reaches out to embrace him, and then pauses, remembering her place. After a few spare moments, almost an eternity for these two would-be lovers, Zealossus grabs Gwyndolin by the shoulders. He looks her in the eyes and says, “In the future, I will likely forget myself in the heat of war. If I choose war over peace when it would benefit us more to maintain peace, remind me of my duty as king.” His dried tears left streaks of red down his face, and his eyes are bloodshot from sleep exhaustion. His request leaves a heavy impression, one that Gwyndolin will never forget. “I will do my best for you, my king.”

She starts to walk away, the brief encounter having torn her emotional state asunder. As she is about to round the corner, having collected her thoughts and emotions, she calls out, “Zeal.” The king turns as he opens his door. “You do not have to bear your burdens alone. You have an entire kingdom to delegate to. You have me.” Zealossus looks down, and then back to her and says, “I know” before returning to his room.

Alone once more, Zealossus says, “Sadly, some burdens are too heavy to allow others to bear. I will go through the trials and tribulations necessary to defend everything that I hold dear.” He blows out his candles and goes to bed.

February 18th, 477 AFK

With the plan finalized and approved by Wulfrik, Asgrave and Grimmock, the transport ships laden with guns, bullets, gunpowder and other essentials, the three faction leaders and their soldiers board the two vessels and set sail towards what may well be their doom.

Zealossus stands at the dock alongside Gwyndolin and waves farewell as the ships sail away. “Every one of them thought it was a bad idea, even me.” Zeal started. “The thing we’re depending on most is gaining contact with the Vaspen rebels without alerting the Yllendyr Imperium of our intent. Though I know little of the people of Vaspen, my gut tells me that they will take advantage of our arrival, doing whatever it takes to obtain victory over their much hated rival. My envoy over in Ylleria has been gathering as much information about the current rebellions throughout the imperium. Though it is just scraps of information, they did confirm that two Yllendyr legions are garrisoned at Helmstedt, meaning that they are digging in to fight something. If there are indeed rebels on their way to Helmstedt and we coordinate a pincer attack, victory will be swift and decisive, though it is all hanging on the condition that we successfully make contact with the rebels. I agreed to Wulfrik, Asgrave and Grimmock that if they couldn’t contact the rebellion, they were allowed to return home, or continue the operation and go to their deaths, whichever fancies them most.”

“Yes, I’m sure that you all fear defeat," Gwyndolin responds, "but doesn’t fortune favor the bold?” She smiles, hoping to smooth over her blunder from the previous morning, feeling that she hurt Zeal's feelings. Zealossus looks at Gwyndolin and laughs hysterically, “Maybe so. Let us hope it does, for the sake of our people, for Endaria, and for the world.”

Heartfire, 1st year of the Gwangyeong Era (September, 4896 YDC)
Courtyard of the Jade Halls, Home of the 1st Legion of the H'ang-hyun

"Let the duel commence!"

In response to those words, a flurry of magic began to fly within the stone walls of the courtyard. The Junior Commanders watched from the stairs leading to the Jade Halls' entrance as two mages started to duke it out in the courtyard. This would be a good one, she thought to herself. Min Ru'sa against Mae-da. The High Commander against who was arguably the second strongest of the entire group. The two of them were good friends, despite how they usually act towards one another, and this battle was no exception. At the end of the day, it was just two comrades having a friendly duel, testing their skill against each other to see what needed to be fixed, how to get an advantage when they had a real fight, and to experiment. From Lin's reckoning, it seemed the two were evenly matched for now, though the lack of Mae-da's preferred liquid to manipulate would complicate matters somewhat. On the other hand, Min wielded a particularly ornate longsword and through the use of her natural proficiency with plasma, clad herself thunder and lightning from the far ends of the sky.

The first spells started to be flung as the two grappled for the initial advantage, blades of pressurized water flew through the air as Min began to counter him with blasts of flame. When the projectiles hit one another, all that could be heard was the sizzling of steam as the water snuffed fire and in turn was rendered into gas. The only sound that could be heard after was that of Mae-da clicking his tongue in annoyance.

"Did I ever tell ya how annoying yer magic is, Min? Lightning, fire, light and shadow. Must be easy for ya ain't it? You aren't limited by anything." Mae-da taunted, eyes filled with a kind of bloodlust unique only to him as the heat of battle crept onto his skin. Blade after blade of water continued to fly in her direction as she replied. "I'm not particularly good at any of them you see. I'm just...creative! Yeah! Creative! Let's go with that. If you don't have any imagination with this sort of thing, you'll be dead on the battlefield before you know it. That's what gets all these rookies killed when they're out hunting Strigoi."

Magic was powerful, especially the kind that the warriors of the Five Legions practiced. They crafted their formula in dread, copying that which they feared and despised, yet admired the most for their strength. Min, Mae-da and the others were the best of the best yet between them there were still differences when ideally they would be equally powerful. If each commander were to fight the other four, the result would be something resembling rock paper scissors. There were some match-ups where the victor would be obvious, decided from the start, and some where there would be none, where both of them would fight each other to a standstill.

"Alright, that's it...I ain't holding back now..." He said as a bolt of lightning smashed into the stone floor behind him. "It's just too troublesome to hold back, and I know this is against the rules for our usual bouts, but I can't stop it when it's started." His feet dug into the ground as he took up a defensive stance. His words of power filled the air in an instant as he voiced his desires to the sky above.

"Burn to naught but ash, my dearest of all,
Fate tore you from me, left me to behold your remains."

Anyone who heard this aria of tragedy could feel the mood change.

"Why did this happen to me, why did it come to pass?
Beast of the Night, what brought you to ravage, consume,
That which mattered the most, my truest love, hearth and kin?"

Fear filled the thoughts of the assembled onlookers as the otherworldly tune rended the air.

"I know not what you truly are, nevertheless I will destroy you,
Steal your name, legend and power for my own.
A night daemon I shall be, veiled in darkness and shielded from harm."

Shou-chou
"創造"

An explosion. That would be the only word to describe it, an explosion of blood. His own blood. Blood covered his hands, his chest, his head, all of it. It throbbed and pulsed, forming armor that defied comprehension. A suit of armor and a sword to match, forged from naught but his own lifeforce, held somewhere in a state between liquid and solid, solid enough to deflect yet delicate enough to mold into whatever shape he needed. Mae-da was reborn as a Knight of Blood.

"Oh? You're using that one now are you?" Min taunted, holding back a giggle. "In that case, I'll raise you this! It's a new technique I've been experimenting on. Let's see how useful this one will be, hmm? You can probably write this one down as your win, though. That makes your thirtieth, compared to my twenty-nine and seventy two draws." She drew her longsword from its sheath as she began her own incantation, her own display of sorcery to match his own.

"Fields sundered, rivers dried, cities burnt to cinders.
Warriors of ten thousand kingdoms fought, slaughtered, ravaged,
Death, o' glorious death was to be their only savior
Hearts drowned in venom, pierced by spears,
Oh, mortal men, can you understand why?
Why you savage and destroy?"

The sound of thunder roared a warning, like the sound of a hundred thousand muskets firing in unison. The lightning that had previously clung to the sword on her belt now spread throughout her entire being. Everything around her was slow, that was the best way to define what she could see. Everything had regressed to the speed of a turtle crawling across a beach, as the speed of lightning flowed through her. She charged forwards in the blink of an eye, a bolt of thunder. She wanted to be a hero, that was her innermost craving.

"My passion shall cleanse the filth that surrounds you,
And as light showers from the heavens above,"

In her two decades of service, it brought her to realize one thing. Everything they did was for the sake of protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. This incantation was nothing more than a statement, and a plea. Of someone who had enough of seeing her comrades fall before her.

"My beacon shall guide you on the darkness of the battlefield."

Shou-chou
"創造"

Blinding, brilliant light showered from her form as she rushed forward, closing the distance between herself and the Knight of Blood. Transformed into an avatar of the Sun's embracing light and righteous wrath, she put all her strength into one thrust of her blade. Ahead, she could see her foe draw his own sword, dyed crimson, yet she pressed forth regardless. The clang of steel rang through the air as their blades clashed, neither side wishing to yield...

They pushed, and pushed, their blades locked onto each other, until at last, they relented, and laughed. Mae-da's bloody armor slunk back into his veins, Min's stormy aura crackled and fizzed as they both fell to the courtyard's stony floor.

"Ugh...we're both down so..." She began.

"I guess we'll call this a draw..." He finished.



Sun's Dawn, Fifth Year of the Gwangyeong Era (January, 4901 YDC)
Border town of Xu'han, on the Miranid frontier.

The midday sun's heat beat down on the Xu'han militiamen, made worse only by the tropical humidity of the air that paid no heed to the four seasons. The militia stood in line formation at attention, each man clutching a musket in their sweaty hands as they marched further from the town and further south into the hills towards the banks of the Gwang-he River. The ragtag company wasn't really a company of professional soldiers. Far from it, they were simply ordinary men. Fathers, husbands and sons who had volunteered to protect their homes, to do what needed to be done to keep their family and friends safe. One of them, Wu, spoke up after a while, addressing the man leading them the column onwards.

"Err...Captain? I understand that today was the day for the militiamen to gather for training, but what does this march have to do with it? He inquired. The man he spoke to, Captain Yuan, replied back simply.

"It is training. You'll see."

He sighed at the vague response.

A few minutes later, they had crested the top of the hills to see an array of tents and wooden constructs laid before them on the elevated terrain about a hundred metres before the banks of the Gwang-he. Yuan raised his hand, signalling for the group to stop marching as a trio of horsemen approached, one carrying a triangular banner emblazoned with the Imperial Phoenix. Wu didn't need anyone to tell him the obvious. They were bannermen, the professionals of the Imperial Army, not part time wannabe warriors like the rest of his company.

"You see what I meant by training now, Wu?" Captain Yuan laughed as the bannermen drew ever closer to the militiamen. His previous demeanor turned into one of seriousness as he turned back to his men. "Stand at attention, all of you. The Kae-in of the 23rd Banner will be directing this week's training personally, and believe me when I say persuading Li H'ung-chang himself to oversee us was not an easy feat. Do not disgrace yourselves before his presence."

The horses finally drew to a stop, as the dirt and dust kicked up behind them settled in the air. The man leading the group, dressed in a resplendent dark-blue garb, addressed Yuan.

"Q'ing-lai, Captain. You are late. Me and my men have been expecting you all morning. It would have been much more comfortable to conduct their training than in this deplorable midday heat, but no matter. You must be hungry, yes? My own company has prepared lunch, and of course, your attendance is expected. We have much to do to make up for lost time."

His spoken Amrean and choice of words were somewhat peculiar, closer to the dialect spoken by the peasantry of the Yin river than that of the men of the south. He was a man of the people atleast, unlike most of the other Kae-ins' that only spoke the dialect of the Kou'ji. Yuan placed his hands together and bowed slightly.

"Of course, Kae-in."



After their meal, both bannermen and militiamen assembled a scant few metres away from the tents, facing the wooden constructs that resembled a rather hastily put together training course. It was a strange contrast, seeing the resplendent uniforms of trained soldiers mixed in with the peasant garments of the militiamen.

"Now then, shall we begin, Captain?" Li asked, half addressing Yuan, half announcing the commencement of the training exercises. Yuan simply nodded in response as he continued. "Very well then, first things first. What we will be doing today is a version of the training Bannermen receive in the army. My own troops should be familiar with this and as such, they will demonstrate. Normally I would explain what the different steps are, but enough time has been spent on trivialities that a visual explanation should be enough."

Li shouted a nondescript command in the Amrean language's archaic form and the Bannermen split into two formations, each roughly a quarter of a kilometre away from each other whilst the militiamen stepped back to observe. The soldiers formed ranks four men deep and 20 men wide each, with him and Yuan taking up command of each respective formation. The bannermen had their own flintlock muskets loaded with blanks and as the exercise began, the two ranks immediately opened fire on each other. Smoke filled the air as the two commanders shouted their orders.

Yuan's men deployed themselves into a square after the first volley, and on his word, loosed volley after successive volley as they formed a rotary to deliver unrelenting fire onto Li's contingent. At the same time, Li's voice could be heard carrying through the air.

"Aim!" The front rank pointed their muskets at the square.

"Fire!" Smoke flew into the air as the gunpowder ignited and their "shots" flew from their barrels.

"Advance!" The fourth rank began to advance to a few paces ahead of the first as the cycle repeated itself again, each rank laying down successive musket fire as the rank behind them reloaded, quickly enough that there was nothing but a scant few seconds between each volley. Li's forces inched ever closer to the square. Yuan's continued to rotate and fire. After a distance of 30 metres remained between the two regiments, the practice concluded.

"Time?" asked Captain Yuan.

"About five minutes." replied Li.

Yuan nodded in recognition as he turned to the shocked militiamen under his command, his voice carrying through the air. "This, my friends, is how true warriors fight. With pride, with skill, and with efficiency. You may not be bannermen, but displays such as this is what I expect, from each and every one of you. That is how war is fought, how you will defend your homes and families! You will learn this and by the grace of the Sun, the 23rd Banner will whip some shape into you! And it won't be just today either, the Kae-in will be posted in Xu'han for the forseeable future, so be prepared."

The group bowed their heads in respect as they picked up their own muskets and advanced into the training ground. Li merely shook his head as he prepared himself to drill the militia. Hopefully this training would make them something other than dead weight in the event any savages tried to cross the Gwang-he.



Last Seed, Fifth Year of the Gwangyeong Era (February, 4901 YDC)
Port of Cantha

Smoke drifted through the room as the sweet aroma of scented candles wafted through the air. Li-yen sat cross-legged on the straw-matted floor as she stared at the man sitting across the table from her, dressed in the garment of an official in the Imperial Court, and that of a Duke of the Third Rank, the Chief Minister himself, Rhee C'hung-hang. He reached for the pot in the center of the table, pouring tea into both her cup and his own. An attendant soon emerged from a side room in the teahouse, a tray in hand carrying biscuits and honey. Setting them down on the table, the attendant soon dismissed himself from the room, leaving the two alone.

"Now then, shall we get down to business, your Excellency?" Li-yen inquired, only to be met with a nod from Rhee.

"Indeed we shall. How has business fared, since the Empress' proclamation, I wonder? I cannot imagine that the lifting of the trade monopoly your esteemed Hong holds at Cantha was anything but detrimental to your business and that of your compatriots."

"That is what your untrained eye sees, perhaps, Duke Rhee. It speaks of your inexperience in such matters, despite your scholarly upbringing and experience in matters of state. If you had the time to spend observing the ships of foreign strangers dock, you would know that business will always be good. Lifting the monopoly was in our interest as well, or we never would have agreed to it. This port is both magnificent and small. Too many, Amrean and foreigner alike would want to land to conduct trade. It is a burden, managing the mass of ships that wish to dock and unload their goods, make deals, load their holds and set sail once more. The proclamation has eased matters somewhat, made them more manageable, that is all there is to it."

The Duke could do nothing but nod in tacit understanding, and agreement as he comprehended the conditions at Cantha. There was more to the Empire than he knew. Much much more, yet he did not have the time or inclination to delve into.

"I see. That is good news to hear indeed, Director. I have heard rumours before coming from this port, that the foreigners, the Yllendyr, come trading advanced trinkets and devices. It is the opinion of the Imperial Court that we are perhaps, two, three decades behind them in such advancement. The squabbles of court bureaucrats has delayed the implementation of the Young Engineer's steam engine outside C'hung-jin, and I do not see them clearing up anytime soon. I'll make myself direct, so as to not cause any confusion. I wish to discuss another agreement with your trading conglomerate, regarding the Yllendyr once again."

"Oh? You have me interested, your Excellency, but I must hear the terms of this transaction before I can agree to anything." She stated, taking the opportunity to press for the upper hand in negotiations. The Duke simply smiled as he replied coolly.

"Your merchants make contact with the Yllendyr merchants on a daily basis. Have them seek out technology of significance, cajole the Dark Elves if they must. The Court shall pay a 10% commission for each article of technology delivered to the capital, as well as refund the majority of purchasing expenses."

Li-yen raised her eyebrows at this offer. It was certainly a good starting point, but it wasn't exactly enough. She took a sip of tea, formulating a response.

"Duke Rhee, your offer has its merits, but it is somewhat...difficult. The Yllendyr do not part with their devices easily. It will be expensive, is all I can say, and there will be no weapons that can be acquired. Their Emperor forbids the sale of such items. In addition, I would have to request an additional financial incentive..."

"That is acceptable, I do not expect your traders to perform miracles, after all. As for your request, we shall lower taxes on the Hong to 8%, from the 10% previously demanded. Is that enough?"

"Indeed it is, your Excellency." She smiled as she raised her cup. "A toast, if you will, to a mutually beneficial deal." The Duke raised his own cup, clinking it with hers as they both drank til it was empty.

"May we all prosper under the Sun's light." They said in unison.

February 3rd, 4901 YDC
Keishi, Tokushiman capital

---

Viceroy Ito Kazuo rested his chin on his hands and sighed. It had been nearly three hours, with minor breaks in-between, and still his staff sat around the conference table, hurling arguments across the room. The news of Emperor Naerzo’s death had sent Tokushima into a buzz and deprived an already-exhausted viceroy of rest.

“Ecruir has more influence with the Imperial military,” the Defense Secretary said. “We can’t be sure of the Shogunate’s or the Fibor’s intentions. We need Ecruir’s assets to maintain control in the north.”

“Ecruir is a snake!” the Labor Secretary shot back. “He murdered the Fourth Prince and just as well could be responsible for the assassination of the Crown Prince. Is that a man you’d trust?”

The gravelly rasp of the Defense Secretary shouted back, and more voices added themselves to the din. Kazuo eyed them each from his perch at the head of the table. His head throbbed and pins-and-needles attacked his feet. He was irritated with the lack of progress, but it was also understandable. Tokushima never fostered a close relationship with either prince. The two members of the imperial family Ito had known best were dead and any dialogue with the two that remained would be starting from scratch, almost.

Kazuo wet his lips and stood from his seat. The chorus of dissent softened, then dissolved as he loomed over the table.

“I want to hear from both princes before we declare one way or another.” He turned to his Foreign Affairs Minister. “Send telegrams to both. Tell them Tokushima is open to talks anytime. I’m not rushing into this mess without a clear head. In the meantime, Tokushima will do as it has always done: acknowledge and serve the Yllendyr Imperium to the best of its ability. You’re all dismissed.”

A hush fell over the table as Kazuo’s staff exchanged looks. The Defense Secretary opened his mouth, but Kazuo silenced him with a hand and turned to leave. His cabinet shuffled their papers and followed him out.



February 14th, 4901 YDC
Keishi, Tokushiman capital

---

Kazuo read the letter again, tapping his pen to his lip. It read:

I write to you today with grave news, though you may have already heard it. Upon the death of my father, the Emperor Naerzo, and my brother Vomlur, the Crown Prince, this Imperium was thrown into chaos. My twin brother, Ecruir, has killed the Fourth Prince, has locked down his grip over the capital and the northern cities, and plans even now to kill me and resubjugate the nations of this world under his iron, dictatorial grip.

I write to ask you to lend me your aid. For too long, Yllendyr has been a force for more evil than good upon the world. The time is right for us to rediscover our mission, our purpose in this world. We are the protectors of the realm, not the conquerors and slavedrivers of the realm. I ask for your aid in deposing this evil traitor who would see you all cast once again in chains and whipped yet harder. I ask those who are sworn to Yllendyr, and I ask those who would not see its tyranny reinforced over them again.

As Emperor, I will end the practice of tribute but for what is required simply to pay the maintenance of the Auxilia, and I will grant all vassal nations the right to autonomous self-government in the framework of a federation. Furthermore, I will grant total independence to the five Dominions of the Isles, the Vershellen, the Kitagawa, the Fibor, Tokushima and Endaria. I ask all nations to help in spite of our differences to build a brighter future for all our peoples.

Sincerely,
Emperor Olarth

He looked up from the paper to a thin, gaunt man seated opposite. Hanzo Tetsuya, Chief of Staff, shrugged and crossed his legs.

“It does say ‘total independence.’ That’s an awfully big promise to keep. And I can’t imagine Ecruir will take his hands off the reins and let him do it.”

“Certainly not,” Kazuo agreed. “This would be a drastic change to the landscape of the international community. Can the Imperium afford to let go of everything, just like that?”

“Olarth seems like an idealist. I’m not sure if he really grasps the weight of a decision like this. Emperor Naerzo and Crown Prince Vomlur were the movers and shakers. They had the political background and the brothers have to play catch-up.”

“Olarth is the pen, and Ecruir is the sword, if yesterday was any indication.”

“The Kitagawans had it coming, attacking Yllendyr garrisons like that.”

Kazuo grunted an acknowledgement and returned the letter to the desk. The unrest in the Shogunate was on the lips of everyone in the capital ever since the newspapers rolled off the press. Ecruir’s move was a message just as it was a military operation. One that promised retribution to all that defied the Yllendyr Imperium. Or more specifically, his Imperium.

“Ecruir controls the navy. He can project his influence where Olarth can’t. And for that reason, we won’t be declaring support for Olarth.”

“I get the impression you’re not declaring for Ecruir either,” Tetsuya said, squinting at his viceroy.

“Not unless he forces us to. I don’t want to be the one to drag this country into a war because of what happens in Ylleria. We’re a protectorate. We support the Imperium’s policies, answer when called, and that’s all.”

“And when both ‘emperors’ come calling?” Tetsuya asked. “Sooner or later, we may have to decide.”

“I know, Tetsuya,” Kazuo groaned. He ran a hand over the stubble of his scalp and let out a breath of air. “Right now, I’m concerned about spillover from the situation in Kitagawa. Last thing we need is rioting in the streets and Ecruir’s navy knocking on the door.”

Tetsuya looked at his watch, stood and gave him a reassuring grin.

“Hungry?”

“Starving,” Kazuo said.

“Come on, let’s grab a bite and come back to it later.”

Kazuo nodded. He folded Olarth’s letter neatly back into its envelope, dropped it in one of his drawers and followed his Chief of Staff out the door.

February 27th, 1901, Lundburgh

A portly man in a fine suit walked among the charcoal ruins of the port city. It had been five days since the Imperium’s navy had burned the city… two since the fires had been stopped. The sudden and horrific shelling had killed a great many in the city, destroying nearly 70% of the dockyards and related districts. Possibly worst of all, not only did Avalian citizens parish in the blaze, but Imperium refugees, Legion soldiers, and whoever else the fleet had merely left behind to meet their fate. The fine suited man frowned and kicked a piece of burnt wood from his path. This massacre had proven one thing to many, both within and outside of Avalia. Ecruir Vyalviur was a madman. A voice suddenly pulled the man from his thoughts.

“Gunner? I’m somewhat surprised to find you here.” Gunner glanced up, seeing his fellow council member, and rival, approach him. Niklos Eskil was a thin man with a sharp, sunken face that gave him a hard appearance. He was Gunner’s biggest political rival, now that all of the nobility had found themselves under the blade of Adron’s vengeance. Gunner scoffed.

Not all of them, apparently.

“Yes, well, the Tears of the Sky had a fairly large following here, so I thought I’d pay a visit and give my local branch here my condolences. We’re currently trying to clean up the harbor, get it at least serviceable, but a lot of ships burned in that fire too it seems.” Gunner said, gesturing the sorry harbor before them. Niklos gave a small nod. He gazed out over the harbor, his face somehow even harder than its normal appearance.

“We knew the consequences of our actions, certainly, but this… this is madness. I knew the Imperium cared little for its subjects, we all did, but this truly demonstrates how little. It shows that they don’t care to retake Avalia, bring her into the fold, or any of that sort. They just want to burn it to the ground.” Niklos said in a solemn tone. He turned back to face Gunner. “It at least burnt a hole in our upcoming election plans, didn’t it?”

Gunner snorted “Of course you’d be thinking of such things at a place like this. The plight of the common man surrounds you in its most dramatic form and you don’t seem to take much notice.” Gunner finished, chin held high. Niklos was suddenly in his face, merely inches away.

“Tell me Councilman Hampus, were you really out here to offer your sympathies, or merely sizing up how much union revenue the Tears lost here? Or should I ask how much that ridiculous costume of yours costs?” Niklos said a low whisper. Slowly, Gunner stepped back, taken back by the sudden move. Fury slowly replaced Gunner’s shocked expression, quickly stabbing his finger at Niklos.

“Dare say that again, and I will call you out! I care about the people under me, and when I get a letter from a Union head telling me that half my workers perished in the flames while the other half lost their homes and jobs, I act, Councilman Eskil, and I do it personally!” Gunner said angrily. He was about to continue when Niklos held up a hand.

“Good! Then you are a worthy rival. From what I had gathered on you, I thought your personality and motives were just as bad as your drinking habit and sense of taste. As it stands… I believe you. I’m here admittedly for a far more selfish reason.” Gunner’s fury suddenly abated and was replaced with confusion.

“And what is that?” Gunner asked slowly. Niklos gave a small, sad smile, and gestured to a spot not far down the street. It was a burnt pile of timber, not unlike everything else on this street.

“That, right there, was were I was born. I grew up in the fish market district of this city… It was here I saw the barbarism first hand when my Valkyrian friend was beaten to death by nobleman, right here in this street.” Niklos eyes seemed distant. “He’d ran out in front of a carriage by accident, spooking the horses and breaking a wheel spoke in the process. The duke had gotten out and beaten the poor boy. One swing after another as people merely kept their heads down and went about their business. It was here where my journey to free my friends and people from the shackles of serfdom and monarchy began.” He turned back to Gunner.

“We don’t agree with each other on a great many things. We both know that this upcoming election is going to shape Avalian politics for the rest of our history. But we are not monsters. Not like them.” Niklos held out a hand. Gunner stared for a moment, before hesitantly taking the offer. A mischievous grin spread across the large man’s round face.

“Don’t think that won’t stop me from whipping you in the elections, ya fish faced bastard.” Gunner said. Niklos gave an equally mean grin.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else, fatman”

February 26th, 4901 YDC
Keishi, Tokushiman capital

---

A rat-tat-tat turned Viceroy Ito Kazuo’s attention from his papers to the door of his office.

“Come in,” he said. The door opened and in walked Defense Secretary Asai Kioshi, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a salt-and-pepper beard. A katana hung at his side, moreso a symbol of office than a functional weapon, but it was a reminder of Tokushima’s legacy. Of simpler times.

“Viceroy.” Kioshi nodded respectfully and sat when Kazuo gestured at the chair opposite his desk. “You wished to see me?”

Kazuo set aside his papers and lifted his reading glasses from his nose. He rose and stepped over to a beverage cart.

“Sake?” he offered.

“Oh hell, why not,” was Kioshi’s answer. Kazuo procured a bottle and a pair of glasses, and returned to his desk. Each man poured the other’s drink in turn, as was custom. Kazuo raised his glass and threw back his drink.

“I won’t lie to you, Kioshi,” Kazuo said as his throat tingled. “I’m concerned. Very. It’s only a matter of time before tensions escalate in the north. I’m only glad we’re not smack in the middle of the heartlands.”

“I’d hate to live in Avalia right now,” the Defense Secretary said. “Between Vaugemyr and Ecruir, they’ve got it bad.”

“Whole place is a mess. I’m just wondering when Kitagawa will get worse.”

“The Northern Fleet has Kitagawa pinned in a corner. Ecruir can contain the situation while he continues to gain ground in the heartlands. So long as the fleet is there, the Shogunate is out of the equation.”

“Which brings me to something that’s been on my mind. The Fibor,” Kazuo announced.

“They’ve been having oni problems lately,” Kioshi said. He poured another glass for the viceroy and Kazuo followed suit.

“The Fibor are Yllendyr subjects. Ecruir would be within his rights to send elements of the Northern Fleet to aid them.”

“It would,” Kioshi agreed, wiping his mouth. “But his attention is on Kitagawa. The oni are an afterthought in comparison.”

“So why don’t we send aid instead?” Kazuo said. “Think about it. By helping a Yllendyr vassal maintain sovereignty within its lands, we reaffirm Tokushima as a loyal ally to the Imperium. Ecruir’s attention stays on Kitagawa and we gain the support of the Fibor, should the war boil over.”

Kioshi sat back, running his fingers over his chin. “And since Fibor is neutral, we aren’t technically supporting either side.”

“Exactly. The oni are a small threat. It’s not a big risk to us, and it’ll allay any suspicions Ecruir’s gung-ho staff might have about Tokushima,” Kazuo explained.

“I think it’s sound. We can mobilize soon, early March, even.”

“You’re with me, then?” Kazuo asked.

Kioshi nodded. “I am, Viceroy.”

“Excellent. Tomorrow I’ll call the cabinet together and we’ll present it.” Kazuo drained another glass and let out a sigh, not out of exhaustion, but of relief.



February 27th, 4901 YDC
Keishi, Tokushiman capital

---

Kazuo left the conference room in a lively gait with his head high. It felt like his cabinet had agreed on something for the first time in weeks. Defense Secretary Kioshi knew how to craft a convincing argument. Under the veneer of goodwill and respect for the Fibor Dynasty, Tokushima would earn herself some breathing room and with luck, manage to keep herself out of the civil war. Just about everyone in his staff agreed with maintaining neutrality. A few had expressed concerns over doing so this way, but presented no better alternative, so it was decided.

In the coming days, King Inroc III received a letter from Viceroy Ito Kazuo, stating Tokushima’s intentions. It affirmed Kazuo’s wish for cooperation and goodwill between both their nations, and detailed the approximate strength of Tokushima’s peacekeeping force that would assist in the onis’ subjugation. It was sealed with the emblem of the Ito clan and hand-signed by Kazuo himself.

February 10th, 1901, Talnaberg

Sirens blared as men and women of the Mountain Watch moved into their positions. If there was any place ready for Vaurgemyr’s attack, it was the Mountain Watch of the ancient city of Talnaberg. The great guns of mountain bastions rose like ancient serpents awaken from their slumber. The old redoubts and castle fortifications had been only somewhat modernized, and the city itself at their center still had its long, black, sharply sloped walls surrounding it.

Since the times before the Imperium, the Mountain Watch had guarded the border against monster and man alike. They were created during the age of the Sky’s King, who had unified and formed Avalia proper through might and magic. Some say the old walls of the city carried ancient wards of magic to repel any would be magical creatures who assaulted it. Of course, their purpose was obvious.

To hold back the dragons.

So, as generations had done before, the men and women, Valkyrians and Humans, sharpened their blades and prepared to defend their homeland from enslaving menace.

Catarina Ossler, the fifty five year old Valkyrian, watched the preparations unfold in front of her. She was the current captain of the Talnaberg Mountain Watch Garrison and the de facto leader of the Mountain Watch. She had already sent her telegrams to the Field Marshal alerting him to the dragon’s slave armies movements. Spreading her old, brown gray wings, she suddenly took the sky, hovering above the main wall. Around her, she saw the domed defenses of the city. In older days, they covered musketeers, archers, and even Royal Cabal mages from attacks from above, while allowing them to fire. Now they held something even more destructive. Modern artillery. The city’s defense themselves were formidable in their own right, but all around her, hill forts and castles readied as well. Some had been modernized, while others…Catarina smirked, others would have battles straight out the tales of old.

“MOUNTAIN WATCH OF TALNABERG!” she bellowed through a crude megaphone. The men and women halted for a moment and stared. ”Vaurgemyr knows that they will have to break us in this city or lose the war. If we can stand up to them, all of Avalia may be free and the life of the nation may move forward into broad, sunlit mountainside. But if we fail, then the whole country, including humans, including Valkyrians, including all that we have known and cared for, will sink into the abyss of a new Dark Age made more sinister by their perversion of power. For long we have suffered the bellows of pain from below. For long we’ve heard the scraping of their chains below. They will not cast those shackles upon us! We are the Mountain Watch! We are Avalians! WE ARE FREE!” The cries and shouts from the men and women below her would have drowned out any artillery barrage. Catarina turned and faced the north, not bothered by the cold wind mountain wind that blew from it.

They were ready.
---

February 25th, 1901, somewhere in the mountains of Venris

Odert Wallin followed his Vaspen contingent into the dwarven complex. It had been a long and hard journey here, and not without some apprehension. He’d arrived by boat under a different flag, road a train into Venris. From there it had been nothing but a long hike, and Odert began to wonder of he’d packed properly. Regardless, he was here to make sure the two very different nations found common ground. Vaspen was a monarchy through and through in Avalia’s eyes, but they were also an enemy of the Imperium, and a old one at that. Thus Odert was sent as an ambassador for his country men to see if the new republic could work something out with this old monarchy.

Now before him sat the remnants of that monarchy and her advisers. Particularly of note was the old Vaspen general and several prominent political leaders. He was disappointed that the queen was not there, but nonetheless unsurprised.

“Gentlemen, I am Odert Wallin, acting ambassador of the Republic of Avalia, entrusted by my nation to ensure we both achieve our respective goals. Those goals are exactly why I am here. With the Imperium tearing itself apart between the two Emperors, our nations find themselves in strange positions. Thus far neither of us have declared any support for either Emperor and we do not seek to. We seek to deal with them as nations of their own right!” Odert paused for a moment, looking down. “It is no secret that my country has no love for the nobility. Adron has made that much obvious, but!” he shot up again, staring with strong conviction. “Vaspen knows tyranny better than anyone in this land. That is something we both share. Long did Avalia stagnate and nearly collapse under the Imperium’s puppets and long has Vaspen suffered likewise under their rule. This is no mere alliance of convenience, no, we share far to much in common then at first glance. So, when the time comes, for when we throw the Imperium out of our lands, shall we recognize this and be friends? Or let the Imperium and its second Dark Age swallow us whole? “