February 2nd, 4901 YDC (Yllendyr Dynastic Calendar)
Ylleria, Capital of the Imperial Yllendyr Sovereignty



Temdra awoke from her slumber at the sound of banging on the door. "What on earth is it," she mumbled to herself. She opened one eye to the clock on the wall. Four AM. Of course. She had quite enough of these stuffy nobles and their sense of entitlement. They couldn't be bothered to find any of the maids on duty, so naturally they would rap on her door. She begrudgingly rose, throwing on her uniform as fast as possible before answering the door. What she expected was some drunken nobleman, but what she saw instead was one of her fellow maids, Idedri.

"Temdra, I'm sorry to bother you so early, but they called for all of our attendance." Temdra's eyebrows shot up in surprise even before the next words came out of her mouth. "The Emperor is dying." The elderly king had been sick for a long time, so this shouldn’t have surprised her, but still, it was a shock.

---

Temdra stood alongside Idedri and the other maids at the edge of the room. It was the royal bedchamber, a place Temdra had only before dreamed of seeing, as personal maid to the Fifth (and last) Prince, Nidrak, a young boy of sixteen years old. The old stone castle walls were adorned with the personal sigil of the 75th Emperor, a basilisk on a yellow shield. There in the center of the room, the wizened old king lay in the ornate silver-framed bed, speaking softly with his wife the Empress. The two twin brothers, the Second Princes, Olarth and Ecruir, sat on opposite sides of the bed next to him, and for good reason. The two had been rivals ever since they were born, since some maid had mixed the two up sixty years ago and it wasn’t sure which one had been born first. They were convinced they both couldn’t be second, which meant one of them had to be third. The two’s bitterness was born in those early years of their childhood, but it only grew more intense over the years as they competed for their father’s favouritism. Only their father’s imminent demise calmed the two enough to not fight while in the same room. They couldn’t resist occasionally directing a stray glare at the other, though. The Fourth Prince, Filadi, sat at the end of the bed, crying.

Missing was the Crown Prince, Vomlur. He was a handsome, strong, confident man, the man no one doubted would rule powerfully in his father’s absence. He mourned his father’s sickness when it began, but a gleam had begun to shine in his eyes for the last few days. It was clear he relished the thought of his reign beginning after so long standing in the background at official events.

The absence of the Crown Prince had begun to disturb the Empress. Empress Madessi called Temdra over, and she hurried swiftly to her side.

“Do fetch my son for me, I have no idea what he is doing but it surely can’t be more important than this.”

“Yes, my Empress. At once.”

Temdra quickly scurried out of the room, as a mouse might when commanded by a lion. She had never before even been spoken to by the Empress, and to have been issued a task like this was a great honour. She retraced her steps back down the royal hall, towards the Princes’ rooms.

Arriving at Vomlur’s door, she reached out, and then trembling, hesitated to knock. That brief seconds-long hesitation was just long enough for another sound to ring out.

A cry of terrible pain. A cry of death.

Temdra jumped in surprise, and slammed the door open. “My prince, what happene…”

Before her, lying in a pool of blood, was the Crown Prince himself.

It took some time for Temdra to collect herself, and then she sprinted. Sprinted to the royal bedroom, because she had to tell the Emperor before –

The Empress was crying. The Emperor lay lifeless, eyes closed.

And at this moment, Temdra became the first person to realize that the Imperium itself was about to die with him.

Empress Madessi turned to her. “Where is he? Where is my son?”

“Assassins… someone killed him.”

At that exact moment, you could have heard the tiniest pin drop. The Empress’s face fell, and the tears flew down her cheeks. And the two men in whom the future of the Imperium rested looked up at each other. A look of challenge, and a look of hatred.

Olarth spoke first. “It’s necessary that someone step forward to lead this nation in this difficult time. Clearly we need someone with maturity to handle that task, so my brother obviously doesn’t fit the role.”

Ecruir rose from the bed and stepped around it. “Maturity, you say. What kind of maturity do you show, sleeping with human harlots desperate for a chance with dark elf royalty, exactly?”

Olarth visibly bristled. “My personal choices do not impact my ability to lead this nation. I have consulted with many of Father’s advisors about the business of state. Whereas you have done what, exactly? Played with your toy soldiers and swords in the business of war which has been obsolete for sixty years?”

“Perhaps it impacts the nation, indeed.” A fire blossomed in Ecruir’s eyes as he approached his brother. “How many filthy halfbreeds have you brought into the world, polluting our nation’s blood with that of pale-skinned savages? The last thing we need as a monarch in this country is a disgusting human-lover.” Ecruir spat on Olarth’s shoe.

Olarth looked utterly in shock. “Fine then, if it’s a battle you want to play at, it’s a battle you’ll get.” He pulled his sword from his waistband. He gestured for his guard to move up alongside him.

“Gladly.” Ecruir did the same. They appeared about to leap at each other, when their brother, the Fourth Prince, shoved his way in between them.

“Stop! This is madness! You’re literally fighting over our father’s dead body! Do neither of you have any shame?”

Ecruir growled. “Step out of my way, right now, or face the consequences.” Filadi crossed his arms and shook his head.

“So be it.” Ecruir skewered his younger brother, to the shock of everyone in the room. He pushed his body to the side, and waved his rapier disdainfully. “Less competition.”

“You’ll pay for that!” Olarth leaped at his brother, and the first shots rang out. Temdra, fearing for her life, hid under the nearest table. “Idedra, get under here!” she shouted at her fellow maid, standing stock-still and frozen, right before crossfire ripped through her chest and she fell to her knees.

Guards were shooting at one another, the two princes were dueling, and all the while the now Empress Mother wailed at the carnage that had taken two of her sons and her husband alike.

Temdra, during a brief respite in the fighting, leapt out from under the table and bolted out the door. Her first thought was to warn the Fifth Prince. She didn’t want to get him caught up in all this. But when she opened the door, she was surprised to see the boy already packing.

“What are you doing?” Temdra asked, dumbfounded.

“What does it look like?” Nidrak shook his head at his maidservant. “You never were particularly good at this sort of deductive reasoning, were you?” He smiled. “Do you think I’m just going to wait around for one of my brothers to kill me because I might be a threat? I need to get out of here as fast as possible.”

He grabbed his bags and just before departing the doorframe, added: “Ecruir probably killed the Crown Prince to have a shot at the throne, and I certainly expect he won’t have second thoughts about killing me.”

“But where will you go?” Temdra replied.

“Anywhere. It has to be better than here.” The sound of gunshots reverberated down the hall, and pricking his ears, Nidrak nodded. “Thank you for everything.” The boy ran the opposite direction, towards the entrance to the Vermillion Citadel and the city outside. Temdra ran to her room to gather her things and do the same. On the way, she ran past Olarth, wounded and being dragged by the Empress Mother, with her bodyguard providing cover fire from the troops after them.

The fate of a world had been set in chaos by a single knife. Not a soul outside of the Vermillion Citadel knew it yet, but the world was about to change… forever.

February 3rd, 4901 YDC (Yllendyr Dynastic Calendar)
Outskirts of Treaty Port of Nilrandell, Imperial Dominion of Kitagawa

It was fairly cold, cloudless night in the camp, just outside of the city walls of Nilrandell, the full moon shining brightly in the otherwise empty sky. The city had been built as part of the surrender terms of the Kitagawa Shogunate, as a provincial capital from which the Yllendyr could do business and oversee the country, and was home to many different species, much like the inhabitants of the camp itself.

This was the 27th Auxiliary Legion of the Imperial Army of Yllendyr, a dignified name for a group of recently cobbled together recruits from the various provinces. The army was mostly human and orc, with a few others mixed in and of course the Dark Elf officers.

One such of these officers, likely one of the lowest ranked in the entire camp, sat idly on her bunk, polishing her revolver and swinging her leg back and forth. She was waiting for dinner. It was her last month in the Army, having served nearly all of her five-year term, and she could feel her sense of impatience surrounding all things growing. Her name was Lunastri; she had no last name as an orphan of the state.

A bell rang in the distance, a bell every soldier knew by instinct: it was time for grub. She heard the sound of boots plopping into the sand all around her, and after a moment’s hesitation, she followed along.

It wasn’t long before she arrived in the queue at the mess hall. The centaur in front of her was complaining loudly about the quality of the food being unfit for him, so she quickly tuned that out. Hoping for a good conversation, she glanced behind herself only to be met with the glare of a Yamato man. Okay, not a particularly wise idea. She sighed, resigned herself to dinner alone, and grabbed her food as it came.

Sitting down at a random table, she slowly and reluctantly consumed the corned beef in front of her. The seats around her rapidly filled up, and strangely, there was a lot more silence than usual, other than the usual murmuring of the radio. She tapped the shoulder of the human next to her. “Hey, do you know why everyone’s so quiet today?”

The human looked at her dumbfounded, like she was some kind of weird bug. An ordinary Yllendyr would slap him across his face for his insubordination, but she just let it go. “So? What is it?”

“You haven’t heard?” He gestured at the orc radio operator across from him. The orc pulled it out of his satchel and placed it on the table in front of him, turning it on. “It’s some nasty shit goin’ down.” The orc shook his head.

“-for our listeners just tuning in, the Imperium is formally in a state of civil war, a war that observers are terming the ‘War of the Twin Emperors.’ The 75th Emperor Naerzo is dead of natural causes at the age of 162, and the Crown Prince has allegedly been assassinated by hostile foreign spies.”

Lunastri gasped in shock.

“The twin Second Princes, both claiming legitimacy to the Sovereignty’s throne, have both been crowned as the 76th Emperor. Ecruir has been crowned in the Vermillion Palace, and Olarth in the major southern city of Altairis. The War of the Twin Emperors has sharply divied the nation, as various territories of the crownlands have declared for either side, and several provinces have as well. The followers of Ecruir claim he is the legitimate heir, having been officially sanctioned and receiving coronation in the Vermillion Palace, and the followers of Olarth allege that Ecruir is responsible for the death of Filadi, the Fourth Prince, and that his rule is illegitimate. Initial skirmishes between the two opposing pretenders have already broken out in the crownlands.”

“As follows, these Dominion governments have declared for Emperor Ecruir: Dominion of Endaria, Dominion of Ot-Skodat, Dominion of Vaurgemyr. The following provincial governments have declared for Emperor Olarth: Dominion of Lierin, Dominion of Vaspen, Dominion of Avalia. The remainder of dominions have chosen to remain neutral thus far, including the Dominion of Kitagawa. As well, the Order of Imperial Sentinels has declared neutrality in this conflict. When a representative was contacted for comment, he replied, ‘The Order’s role is to serve the one true Emperor or Empress. If there are two Emperors, there is no true Emperor. We will not intervene until one is found.”

“News of this succession war has given way to massive protests and riots in cities across the Imperium. The Imperial Auxiliary Legions are being deployed to quell unrest from counterimperial, barbarian forces. The Securitariat is advising all citizens to remain in their homes to avoid this dangerous..."

"Well, there goes my bet on getting out of the army without ever having to fight a war." Lunastri grimaced, and stabbed the beef in front of her in a futile expression of rage.

---

When she had finished her meal, Lunastri wandered outside to look at the moon, as she often did.

"Eluna, you know I'm not a praying woman, but... if you exist, please help me. Please save my world. Do something."

She looked up for several minutes, but the moon did not much more than glow in response, much as she expected. She sighed. She went to clean her rifle, since she was almost certainly going to need it.

The village of Seaside Arrow, aurelian Emerald Coast of the Yllendir Empire, First quarter of February, 4901.
At night's dawn.....



"It's time to go, brother." said Vens to his brother, Caleb. His brother was quietly staring at the stars on the sky, as if they were whispering something in his head, but before long, he replied back "You're right, mother's probably going to tell the constabulary that we've been eaten by wolves...". The two got up and grapped their wooden fishing equiment, together with the small catch of the day, and went back home hastly. The stoned patch through the village seemed empty of life, if it wasn't for the calm, comfortable atmosphere inside the wooden houses. The start of the spring was still chilly enough, especially at night on a coastal village like this, so most houses were unleashing smoke trails into the sky from the stoned horns.



Gentle lights from entrances and windows touched the eyes of the two brothers as they wandered back home. Time seems to obey the villagers, not around, it seems. Life here is simple, kind, boring at times even. "You read the newspaper they keep bringing here each week? I gave the newsboy some fish yesterday and he gave me the newspaper without demanding money." said Vens, breaking the silence, before proceeding to continue "This entire bicker for the emperor throne is affecting more and more nations. It's unsettling!" said Vens. "I know what you're thinking...." replied Caleb, seemingly all-knowing. "Of course you do! You're going to reach 18 years old in a week, remember? You will soon be... conscripted." said Vens, eyeing his brother closely as they walk the stoned path. "I know you care for me, but that's how it is...damn elves, we're fighthing in their war, and for what? It's not enough that they've been oppressing us for only the gods know how long... replied Caleb. You could see the hatred in his eyes, ever since childhood he's been holding that hatred for elves. Hatred which has been passed down from generation to generation, father to son. Certainly, most of the humans hated the elves, but Vens wasn't like Caleb in this regard.

The two arrive at the wooden fence of their family's house, hearing a dialogue from inside. Before they could enter, two mysterious human men open the door and take their leave, without any gesture or words, hastly walking by the two brothers, ignoring them. Caleb and Vens look at eachother with confusion, then step inside the house as they are greeted by mother. They exchange the usual dialogue and proceed to hand over the catch of the day, ready to be prepared into a sweet fish soup by mother. After a while, the soup was ready, and the whole family was called to dinner. Nobody sat on the table before the leader of the household, the father, sat first. After he came, they all quietly take their seats, say the customary prayer before the dinner and then they start to eat. Oh, it was good and warm, definately only a mother's touch can make such fine food....but across the table, their old man sat, quietly staring into his bowl as he takes small sips with his wooden spoon. He was clearly nervous about something, something was on his mind. Had it any link with the two men that perviously rushed out of the door? He was troubled indeed, and it didn't take long for Caleb to notice.



"Are you going to tell us what's wrong? Did the pointy ears demand even more grain again?!" said Caleb with his usual distain for elves. "Watch your language at the table!" shouted his mother. Caleb just rolls his eyes and looks at his father, who was still silently looking down into the bowl. "There's a storm brewing, my children. I just wish I wasn't alive to see it..." said the father, breaking the silence. The two children stopped eating for a brief moment, leaning closer to listen. "Listen, there's not enough time. Caleb, you are the eldest child here, I need you to prepare yourself for what will come next for you, and for all of us." said the old man, as Caleb stopped eating completely and just sat there, listening. The father puts on the table a rolled manuscript, with the village's seal stamp on it. "You will have to deliver this to...Aurelia and-.." the father did not even get to finish his sentence before Vens replied with "What's that!?". The father gestures him to shut up and proceeds to continue "Caleb, you have to deliver this to Aurelia! It is of utmost importance, do you understand? Deliver this to a man named Maverick, in the Gilweed Tavern, by the docks! You will find it. Do not ask any questions, for they will be answered in due time."The father finishes his soup and gets up from the table, further saying "You're leaving tonight.", leaving Caleb with no time to ask anything but to do as his father commanded him to do. The father gives Caleb a couple of fine clothes, certainly from the cities. Caleb never before adorned such clothes, made him look like one of those prestigious people from the city, and in haste, he left.

Riding the family's horse down into the night, carrying the manuscript, Caleb could only wander what awaits him, he had so many questions, his head could blow at any moment, but in a moment of silence, as he plunged his right hand into one of the suit's pocket, he grabbed what appears to be a small gun. A gun!? What for? Time seems to no longer hold the village in regard. As father put it: "They were running out of time."

Standing at the heart of Ylleria well within sight of the Vermilion Citadel, the very seat of Elven Imperial power, and nestled up against its counterparts was the embassy of the Old Forest. It had stood in that place for nearly eighty years, though few would recognize it now had they only seen it upon its establishment all those years ago. It wasn't that the building had been rebuilt, or even renovated; no, the reality was that it had grown. Great living vines and branches formed the uneven walls of the three story building, the immense product of a single seed that now stood as both an embassy and a reminder: that the past was not yet, that myth and legend lived on.

Within a creature from the nightmares of children the world over crept through the halls. Its dull black carapace, mottled with shiny brown hairs, seemed to disguise it in the dull light of the embassy. Every step the creature took, its many legs propelling it at a surprising if still leisurely pace, was silent enough that none but the most attentive listeners could have identified its approach.

Nevertheless, before it had even moved to push aside the leaf that served as a door to the room it had stopped outside a soft feminine voice sounded from within, “Curh? A pleasant surprise, please, enter.”

The dark spider, Curh, obliged and entered the room slowly, reverently. The Dryad within sat cross legged on a mat of moss growing out of the wooden floor, a small platform of raised and interwoven branches before her imitating a desk. The room itself was spartan by the standards of Elves, Humans, or even the Weaver that had just entered it, though doubtless some personal items were in the small Yllendyr made chest tucked into a far corner. Curh had on occasion wondered if all Dryads were so fastidious as the ambassador, she was the only one he’d ever known after all.

The woman with wooden skin and fine green vines for hair stared into Curh’s many eyes expectantly and he delivered the news he’d heard only moments ago, “It seems the Elf is dead, Amaena.”

The Dryad actually cocked a brow, her statuesque wooden face moving as fluidly as any being of flesh and bloods would, “So soon? I hadn’t expected... Ah, no matter. I presume I am to offer the Forest’s condolences to the family and congratulate the boy, what was his name? Vomur? Congratulate Vomur on his ascension?”

If spiders could cringe. Curh waggled a pointed leg to indicate there was more, his echoing and unearthly voice filling the room, “Vomlur, and it appears that will be unnecessary Amaena. By all accounts the Crown Prince was struck dead by assassins moments after his father passed, the surviving princes have turned on each other and word is one of the four has perished already.”

Amaena stood slowly, what parts of her body weren’t obscured by a rich yellow dress bending and stretching as if they weren’t made of wood. Her face twisted into an expression of concern as she adjusted the clothing, Curh was thankful Yllendyr modesty didn’t apply to his species. The Dryad eventually shook her head and focused on Curh once more, “Have you informed the other ambassadors?”

The spider scratched the floor to indicate he hadn’t and she continued, “Ah, very well, leave that me. Inform your fellows and have them contact the Forest at once. This changes much.”

“I will do so Amaena.” With that said Cruh bowed and fled the room, a proper farewell was unnecessary, wasted time in the face of urgency. His people were humble compared to such beings as Dryads and Shadows, but they were not fools, least of all Cruh. He understood the gravity of the knowledge he carried as he made his way to the embassy’s radio room, and as he told the operators he could see the other Weavers did as well.

This was a disaster, and an opportunity. At last.



“We have not prepared for this, it is too soon.”

There was a susurration in the room at the words, they all knew it was true. The old Dryad, Shaetarae, was only giving voice to a collective sentiment, as unsettling a sentiment as it was. For all the forest had grown in new and unexpected ways in recent times, they hadn’t considered that the Elves, those who’d demonstrated previously unheard of power eighty years ago and gone on to subjugate the world, would allow their empire to begin crumbling. Or at least, not quite so soon.

It was Ooash who spoke next, and the indistinct silhouette’s speech was incongruously smooth for all it seemed to resonate in the room, “If the Elves dominion is broken the outsiders, Dwarves and Humans and Dragons, they will begin to assail us again. It is only a matter of time.”

Several assembled in the great hall cursed and glanced at the vast skull mounted at the end of the room, held up by vines that grew through its empty eyes and over its surface, a Dragon’s. It’s presence did nothing to reassure them. Shaetarae looked at Ooash, her gaze far more precise than those who struggled to distinguish the Shadow from its glamour, “Of course they will, belligerent children they are. We will not be surprised by them, at least.”

The Weavers and Ursine pounded the uneven floor of roots in agreement. Before they had stopped Gerum, a great Weaver far and away larger than even the other females in the room, spoke above the commotion in the hissing and echoing manner of the Weavers, “We have managed to recreate many of the Elves weapons below the Old Mountain, this is true. However, as it stands we lack the stockpile needed to arm even the Harpy warriors that have volunteered to learn the rifles, let alone my fellows who have trained on the machine guns and artillery. We have nowhere near enough to equip an... Army, as the Elves call it.”

The Dryads in the room, all of them, grimaced. It was they who had insisted on caution, their twisted perception of time no doubt influencing their decision making. Well, the situation was not unrecoverable. Gerum went on, “That said, we Weavers have many many workshops throughout the Forest. If the Great Beings in attendance sanction it, we shall begin to produce as many arms as quickly as we are able. The Grand Ursine’s mines in the caves will have to be expanded, though. As will their smelting facilities.”

The argument that erupted was a long one. The Dryads were wary of damaging the forest, but the Ursine mollified their concerns by insisting the rock they cut into was dead, far below the Forests roots. The Shadows objected to waiting, asserting that to do so was foolish and parties should be led into the lands of the Dragon Thralls to thin their numbers. That motion was defeated by the Harpies, they knew well there was no way to eliminate enough of the spineless pests fast enough to make a difference when they marched on the forest.

By the time the debate was done all had agreed to expand the production of weaponry and to train as many were willing as quickly as possible. The Dryads were still afraid of the consequences of expanding the industry on and below the Old Mountain, but they feared and loathed the Dragons and their Thralls all the more. The very thought that the enemy could be slaughtered to the point the forest could retake the land they had stolen from it was enough to turn the normally placid women to bloodshed.

Beyond that the Harpies and Ursine had agreed to fortify the borders of the Forest, a measure supported by all. Earthen walls, like those Dryads in the Elven army had reported seeing, would be erected and positions to fight from dug into them. The Forest would never again be victim to the wretched creatures that lived outside its loving embrace. It’s children would never again allow it to be harmed.

士子曰：強之時、是攻之時。弱之時、是變者為、變者其燼鳳凰重生

“A master-scholar once said: A time of strength is the time to strike. A time of weakness is a warning to change, for he who changes shall rise again, a phoenix reborn from the ashes.”

Tenth of Last Seed, 146th year of the Myosong Era

The sun was just beginning to rise as the roar of cannonfire split through the early-dawn skies, sounding in substitute for the cries of the roosters. Ahead of them were green plains stretching as far as the eye could see, bare save for the occasional tree, and well-erected clusters of tents and campfires. The shrieks of cannonballs fired en-masse reverberated in the air as they flew towards their target. The field bursted into a cloud of smoke and debris shortly thereafter. Bones broke, men were ripped asunder, torn into shreds by the sheer firepower of the barrage.

The soldiers of Ye-hyun Province, those were not killed instantly by the thunderous bombardment at least, rose from their tents in a panic. They scurried about their destroyed encampment like ants, shouting and screaming of an attack as volley after volley of roaring cannon-fire descended upon the plains.

Kaein Mu-Go’jun surveyed the devastation with his li-tomi, an effective if rather crude form of spyglass. The destruction wrought by the engines of war left him in awe. Indeed, he did not expect the initial barrage to have been either so potent, or so accurate.

Go’jun was a mere provincial aristocrat, his family descended from Scholar-Bureaucrats who manned the extensive and utterly byzantine civil service that formed the backbone of the Imperial Administration. His father had mastered the ancient classics of the Erudite Scholars and Solar Disciples, deriving from them the arte of good governance, filial piety and the stratagems of war. In turn, he was assigned the governorship of Jin’zen Province, to protect its peoples and enact the will of the esteemed Myosong Empress. Status brought with it opportunity for the advancement of one’s kin, and it was through the influence of his father that Go’jun was allowed to rise through the ranks of the Imperial Banner Army as quickly as he did. A Kaein at the age of 24! Twenty four! It took the average officer a decade to rise to the same rank he did in four, promoted on the basis of fine tactical knowledge instead of actual experience.

Of course, his first assignment as a newly appointed Kaein was to lead a regiment of Imperial Forces to quell a provincial revolt in Ye-hyun. The province had long been a source of discontent against the reforms of the Myosong Empress, its scholar-bureaucrats most opposed to the ideas that built upon and expanded what they perceived as the "inherent perfection of the Imperial system". The truth was quite plain to see however, they were simply annoyed, annoyed at the chafing restrictions placed upon them in recent years to avoid nepotism, corruption and patronage. And then, through some honeyed words or miracle of luck, had convinced the province's governor and Kaeins to rise in revolt for independence from the Empire.

And now, he stood on the hills overlooking the plains and the panicked men below. His artillery officers stood to attention, awaiting the signal to let loose another volley. Go’jun raised his hand, ordering for the cannons to cease their fire. Below him, the rebel forces were beginning to recover from the devastating barrage, forming into haphazard line formations and slowly marching towards the hill. Their formations were not packed close enough to each other to warrant additional bombardment. Prior to the battle his scouts had already reported the size of the rebel force, around 6000 men all native to the province armed with muskets and halberds as well as a force of atleast 400 cavalrymen. They were supported by carts of H'wa-myeon, a cart capable of firing hundreds of explosive arrows propelled by a gunpowder charge towards the enemy.

The devastation capable of being wrought by such weapons on his own forces, both physically and psychologically was something he factored in when deciding upon his plan of attack. That was why he struck at night, hoping to destroy their H'wa-myeon in a surprise attack, saving himself and his men the terror of dealing with their sheer firepower.

"Kaein! Shall we move to meet them on the field?" The question raised by his subordinate brought his mind to the battle that was about to commence. He surveyed the advancing enemy forces one last time before turning to face the group of In-chi. He observed his own force. 8000 Bannermen, 800 horsemen, eighteen cannons. It would have to do.

"Begin the advance. The bannermen shall take the centre in line formation. Have the horsemen skirt their flanks and wait for openings. The cannons will fire smoke to conceal our advance in the style of Bi-heng Fei'wu. These are your orders. Now go! To your posts at once!" He commanded in a harsh tone.

The officers before him scurried away one after the other with another wave of his hand. The infantrymen began descending the hill as the galloping horses kicked up clouds of dust on their way down. Artillerymen reloaded their cannons with new shot as quickly as they could to support the advancing infantry.

The waiting was the worst part for Go'jun. The heat of battle left no time for fear or hesitation, merely an adrenaline-driven dance of death, kill or be killed. When waiting, all he could feel was the palpitations in his chest and the sweat on his palms whilst his tail weaved to and fro behind him. Did his plan work? Will the arrows he so feared never materialize? Were his troops competent enough to win the battle? These doubts continued to gnaw at him until he could see his infantry advance through wall upon wall of smoke towards the rebel forces. In no time at all, the battle was afoot. The musketmen moved close enough to fire at point blank, sending shots flying a scant 30 meters towards the rebel lines. The traitors began to panic as the infantry closed in for melee, and the thundering of hooves could be heard from their flanks as the cavalry converged on their isolated formations. Go'jun looked through his spyglass yet again to observe the battle more closely when he heard the screams of something as it arced through the air.

The spyglass fell to the floor, his eyes widened as he saw what was flying towards his troops; a cloud of death, streaking black across the morning sky.

He realized...they were aimed too high to impact his men engaged in a frenzied melee.

He realized...

that they were flying towards him.

First quarter of February, border of the Emerald Coast and the Midlands, Aurelia, 4901...

Caleb spent the entire night on the stoned pathway towards the Midlands. He's been enjoying the calm surreal night sky and the quietness of the nature. "How strange..." he tought to himself regarding the fact that no local patrols were around this night. Usually the authorities patrol the pathways, especially at night. Nevertheless, he continues. By the morning, his eyes were pierced both by tiredness and by the rising sun from the East. He had already entered the Midlands, judging by the terrain.



Caleb reaches into the satchel hanging by the horse's mount. He rolls open the paper and takes a look at the province of Aurelia, placing his gaze around the local area that he was in. "Just a little more until we reach the village of Viris, Tommy boy." said Caleb, ironically speaking to his horse, Tom. Indeed, after half of an hour or so, Caleb manages to arrive at the welcoming gates of Viris.
How to describe Viris? Not big, neither small...for a village that is. Typical houses made of low quality bricks dot the atmosphere of the village. You could see the steam leaving the numerous vents of the buildings, gently rising and dispersing itself into the air. It was a beautiful morning. Caleb provides his name and reason for arriving to the guards at the gate and proceeds to pass inside. Standards of Yllendir could be seen hanging from walls here and there, the stone pathway, with it's shiny small grass around the cobblestone, looked like it was still wet from last night. "Seems it rained here last night." poured into Caleb's cheerful mind as he was on his way towards the nearest tavern.



Arriving at the tavern, he couldn't help but spot the rounded roofs. "Tavern Lunaria" was inscribed at the top of the door, on a wooden piece hanging lazly from an iron support. He proceeds to steer his horse into the tavern's stables, tie Tom down and then head inside. The tavern wasn't much, but it was tidy and comfortable, especially after an entire night of galloping from the Emerald Coast to the border of the Midlands. The faded lights on the cellar, coupled with the rising smoke from the cigarettes of the clients at the tables, made the atmosphere very interesting indeed. Hanging from one of the wooden bars across the cellar from the entrance towards the bar was the sign "The Grey Shade". Caleb heard this name before, it was a famous cigarette brand. The smell of tobacco didn't stop him from going straight to the bar. For a morning, the atmosphere was pretty busy and cheerful. There wasn't any elf around, only humans and dwarves at best. As he goes through the tables, Caleb hears constant "Cheers!" through and through.



"What could these people cheer about so early in the damn morning?" muttered Caleb under his nose, making sure nobody hears him. As he reaches the counter of the bar, the barman asks him "What'll be?"
"Sorry...I need the coi-" but before finishing his sentence, one of the happy fellows next to him at the counter tells the barman "GIVE THE LAD ONE ON ME, JERRY!"
Caleb looks at the guy with a visible confusion. After the barman pours some strange liquid inside a small glass, Caleb grabs it and goes straight to the generous man and asks "Thanks..but, uh, why?" in a typical surprised teenager voice.
"Tell me you didn't hear?! Ayleris be praised, the bloody elves are killing eachother, haha!" replied the man, happly.
"What are you talking about?" said Caleb, even more curious.
Boy, you need to get one of those radios some day. The Emperor is dead, my friend, and his sons have just began fighthing for the throne. They call it 'The War of the Twins', figures. Every human who heard the news is celebrating, my friend. replied the drunken man, with a neverending smile on his face.
Caleb proceeds to slide the hard liquor down his throat, making a weird facial expression. Indeed it was strong. He paid immediately the barman for a room, renting it for a day, and went straight upstairs, carrying his satchel eagerly.Toughts like "So that's what father warned us about before I left...but what role do I play in this? What's written in that scroll?" pierced through his mind, so many questions. He decided to just rest for the rest of the day.

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

Meanwhile in the same day, evening in the capital, Aurelia....

The city is mumbling with life. The main boulevard is adorned with black flags, a symbol of mourn for the recently deceased Emperor. Across each corner of the streets, you could definately spot a child shouting "ECRUIR AND OLARTH, READ ALL ABOUT IT TODAY! EMPEROR ASSASINATED! WAR OF THE TWINS! READ ALL ABOUT IT TODAY!".



A well clad dark elf steps out of his carriage and is escorted by the imperial guards into the Imperial Governship Building, a large building, adorned in the standards of Yllendir. This elf was Vulre Pazana, governor of Aurelia. He steps into the great chamber, greeting many as he heads towards the podium.



Vulre clears his throat and begins his planned speech "Gentlemen, I trust all of you heard the news from the past days. It's true, Yllendir is plunged, as of now, into a civil war. I came here today as Governor of this province in order to discuss, together with you all, the matters at hand. We can remain neutral for so long. We MUST pick a side."
The room was full with barons, counts and other influential elves from all across Aurelia. The chamber was full of whispers and chit chat, obviously the civil war has put everyone on the edge. You could hear them arguing with eachother mindlessly on and on...

"It's clear we have to ally with Ecruir. He's still in power in the Crownlands, which means he will surely win the war, he has all the resources at hand. To think otherwise would be political suicide!"

"What about the province? You're not in the Crownlands, you're here. Your assets are here, your riches are here, your family is here, back in the Crownlands you are worth nothing! Same goes for all of us!"

"Ecruir is the true heir to the emperor! He's been declared so in the capital itself!"

"Gentlemen! Think about the stakes here, not only in the Crownlands! Allying with Ecruir's delusions of total purity will ignite the spark of rebellion among the humans and elves? MUST I REMIND YOU THEY ARE THE ONES WORKING THE FIELDS AND MINES OF THIS PROVINCE, NOT TO MENTION THE BULK OF THE POPULATION!? EVERYTHING YOU HAVE HERE COMES FROM THEM, WE HAVE TO KEEP OUR SLAVES OBEDIENT! SUCH A REBELLION AT THIS POINT WILL PROVE DESASTRUOUS FOR EVERYONE, INCLUDING THE EMPIRE!"

"SIT DOWN YOU OLD FOOL! YOU'RE SCARED OF SERFS, PEASANTS AND MINERS?"

"HAHAHA!"

"LET HIM SPEAK!"

It's a hot debate, one of many that will come in the following days, even weeks.

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

Next day, Viris village, Midlands.....

Caleb suddently wakes up after an entire day of well deserved sleep. He reaches for his clothes, prepares himself and proceeds to head downstairs back to the bar area. The bar was empty aside of the barman. He heads outside, unties his horse and hops on, proceeding to head into the city, towards the other gate that leads further North. As he makes his way through the village's center, Caleb could spot a large crowd of people gathered infront of a wooden podium. Three figures were hanging, strangled, with a guard overlooking the crowd, carring a speech "Let this be a reminder to any future dissidence..."
Caleb briefly stops with his horse by at the edge of the crowd and asks one woman about the affairs. She proceeds to debrief him on the events leading to the hanging. The three strangled persons were convicted of treason against the Empire because, supposedly, the town's keep found them trying to ignite the local baron's estate as an act of terrorism against the elven administration. Caleb makes his way by the podium and spots the revealed face of the hanged men. Caleb widens his eyes, as he recognises one of them being the man who just yesterday gave him that drink at the bar. It was obvious to him that someone heard too much and reported him to the authorities yesterday.
Caleb knew he could not afford to spend more time in Viris, he could became a target soon. He hastly made his way towards the exit of the village. The gate was relatively lightly guarded, with a few guards here and then chatting or overlooking the outside. Before Caleb could reach the gate, a guard on foot approached him with a "Halt! Who are you? Documen-"
Before the guard could finish his sentence, in a moment of panic, Caleb slammed the leather handles of the horse as Tom raised in the air, making the guard plunge backwards. He immediately galloped towards the gate before the other guards could figure out what happened, hearing in the background as he began to distance himself from the village "AFTER HIM!"
Caleb forgot about anything in the world for the moment. He had to run as far away as he could. The local authorities were after him. After tremendous efforts, Caleb only lost his pursuers by heading through the forrest, away from the stone pathway.



As the horse struggled itself to gallope in the harsh terrain, due to exhaustion, Tom broke it's ankle, splitting the skin open and causing the horse to cry out in pain, throwing Caleb aside into the water. His vision blurred by mud, he got up with a loud grunt and switched his gaze towards his satchel, which landed on grass out of luck. He switched his gaze back at his horse as he was laying down in water and mud, heavily breathing out of pain. Blood was like a reddish dust forming inside the water.
"Oh, I'm sorry Tommy....this shouldn't have happened...." said Caleb, leaning down next to his horse, catching his breath. Tom has been the horse of the family for a good six years. His father loved this horse. Caleb knew it was his responsability to end Tom's suffering, and so he reached into his pocket to grab the pistol he found when he first went away from home. He loads six rounds inside the small revolver, pulls the safety off and aims towards Tom's head, proceeding to pull the trigger, ending his companion's suffering.
With a tremendous pain in soul, Caleb grabbed his satchel and proceeded to continue by food in the forrest. He knew that he would spend the next couple of days or even the week inside the forrest.

Feburary 4th, 1901, 02:00AM, “The King’s Garden”

The man sat on the wide stairs leading to an empty throne, watching the trickle of blood run down it. He gave a weary sigh and groaned as he rose, betraying his age. Streaks of grey ran through his neatly trimmed black hair and specks of blood covered his ornate blue uniform. It had been a long night for him, and, as he suspected, he had a long day ahead of him. To his left a servant’s door opened, revealing a bald man with dark skin. He wore a similar uniform of the older gentleman, yet with only two red service stripes and far less decorated.

“Well Gotham, are we in the clear?” the older man spoke, with a notable tone of exhaustion rather than fear. Gotham nodded, yet grimaced.

“Yes, we were able to catch them mostly unawaress... One woke up and had retaliated. . . we loss two before we could silence the sorcerer. I’m sorry Field Marshal….”

Field Marshal Adron shook his head. Nine years. Nine years of careful planning to destroy the monarchy overnight. Nine years suddenly rushed into action when that damn fool of a prince up and died, dragging this whole damn Imperium into chaos. Now those damn twins are feuding, forcing him to rush is final plans ahead of schedule. Now here he was, feeling guilting for the two that had died on account of said rush. “Alright. Well give the order. Round em up. Before the sun rises we will have those bastards in chains. “

Gotham nodded, “And what of the king?” .

“I’ll deal with him.” The Field Marshal said, storming off clutching his sabre. The halls of the King’s Garden were as much of a labyrinth as one could expect of such an old and excessively lavish building. A labyrinth that Adron had used to his advantage when he had sprung his coup. He found himself standing before two great doors that lead to the palace church with two soldiers fiddling with the lock. One took notice of the Field Marshal and nodded to him, knowing Adron would rather him continue his work than interrupt it for a more formal greeting.

“Almost there sir, these locks aren’t so much as challenging as they are tedious with the size of their tumblers being so huge.” he said just as the door made a loud click. “There we go, after you, sir.” the soldier said, as he and his companion heaved the doors open.

Inside was the king and his queen, kneeling near the altar. A priest whispered in his ear when he suddenly looked up and saw the Field Marshal strutting towards them. The king whirled around, his face covered in smudged make-up, his hair tangled. “You bastard!” cried the king as he began to march up towards Adron. The priest called after him to stop, but the king followed no such order, awkwardly clutching something behind his back.

“Holfgar, I have come arrest you for treason.” Adron yelled, eyeing the hidden hand as the king stormed up to him.

“Treason?! TREASON?! Die traitor!” The king screamed, raising a ancient looking pistol. The hammer clicked when the trigger was pulled. For a moment, there was silence.

*click*

Still, nothing. Adron sighed, suddnely rushing forward, yanking the pistol from the king’s hand and smacking Holfgar’s face with the butt of the weapon. The king collapsed to the ground with a cry, blood running down the side of his head. Through all of this, his queen merely stayed at the altar, quietly praying. “You… y-you can’t do this! I’m the king! We trusted you! My father trusted you!” The king sheepishly said, staring up at Adron from the floor. Adron studied the pistol for a moment, then looked at the king. A pang of pity went through him. The man looked no more than a young boy than a king, despite being nearly twenty four. In fact, it seemed like only yesterday he was bouncing the young prince on his knee.

His face curled into anger.

It also felt as though only yesterday he had received his wife’s head in a wooden box, that only yesterday had King Holfgar the VIII merely ignored this disgusting abuse of power. All the pity disappeared as he stared and said. “The age of kings is dead, Holfgar, and I have killed it.” With that, he motioned to his soldiers to take them into custody.

Feburary 4th, 1901, 09:00AM

Adron sat in the former king’s grand office, eyes drooping a little. He stared at the large wooden doors leading to the office, waiting for his co-conspirators to arrive. By now, the major majority of the nobility had been rounded up by the Army, being placed in the Royal Prison and his messengers had already spread the word of the upcoming executions. The long night weighed on him more as the minutes crept by. Much of the Royal Guard had been simultaneously killed while the Royal Cabal had been gutted in their sleep. Well… not all of them had been. He had lost two already, and he knew he’d need every single soldier if he wanted to secure his nation’s bid for independence and prosperity.

At that moment, the doors flung open and walked the now most powerful men and women of the nation, those who had been the biggest players in all of this. First and foremost was the head of the Royal Research Division, Alicia Karlsson. She had felt the sting of the nobility long before she had begun her work under the king. With the new king had brought a far smaller budget, and a burning anger in her heart. Following her in was a portly man who wore a clean suit with a red tear drop pin on his chest. Gunner Hampus was the leader of the largest labor union in the nation, and knew all too well what the nobility had planned for him and his Tears of the Sky labor union. Behind him came a older man with sharp features and piercing blue eyes. He wore a black suit with a red undershirt. Albin Hescher was an industrialist, particularly in arms manufactory and steel works. He had a sharp wit about him that could almost intimidate anyone who dare challenge it. Finally came a man seemed unassuming with his round spectacles and ordinary dress, but Niklos Eskil was the leader of the growing Republican faction who sought to craft Avalia into a new state.

Adron stood, gesturing to his co-conspirators. Before he could speak, Gunner spoke up.

“So it is done then? The Royal Cabal is gone? The Nobility, in chains??” he asked, the nervous tone betraying his feelings. Adron sighed, and returned to his seat behind the grand oak desk.

“Yes, the 10th Brigade has done its job. All the major players of the nobility, their families, their staff, and even children are currently sitting in prison. So far, no Royalists have rallied yet, but my men have their posts.” Adron could feel the air of relief spread through the room. “Their heads will be in baskets by the days end.” At this, a few hardened their gaze.

Alicia’s eyebrows raised, her eyes widening. “You intend to simply execute them all? Today? I knew we aimed to stop them… but this is going to far! We might find all of our heads in baskets just because of your personal vendetta!” she exclaimed.

“It’s not personal,” Adron snapped. But he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. They all knew about his wife. All the Imperium knew. That didn’t stop him from denying it. “They would have destroyed Avalia as we know it. We would have been slaves in all but name. The people are starving, the nation suffers under Holfgar and would continue suffering more. That is why we send Holfgar and the nobility to the guillotine.”

“Are you going to say anything? To the growing crowd outside?” Niklos Eskil said, speaking up from his seat. Adron thought on this for a moment before shaking his head.

“I’ll say nothing today. Besides, I’m not stepping in to lead this country, you four are. I’m here to protect the country and keep peace while you create a government with the interests of all in mind.” Adron said.

“It would be wise to say something” Niklos replied, “To keep the peace.”

Adron took them all in with his gaze, glaring. "The people want blood right now, not words. They've wanted it for years. I've felt it. You've felt it. That's why we came together to pull Holfgar from his throne. I'm going to give them blood. A lot of it. So much it will sicken them, choke them. Then my soldiers will funnel them toward the Oslov District, where they can loot the nobility's houses and rape their daughters and kill their younger sons. I intend to let them choke on their madness. In two days' time I will put down the rioters with one hand and give food and clothing to the poor with the other, and I will restore order"

The four council members stared back silently before looking away. Gunner huffed and gave a grim smile. “You’re a dangerous man, Adron, you speak as if you can control a mob.” he said.

"Mobs can't be controlled." Adron said. "But they can be unleashed. I'm willing to accept the consequences. If you must object, then do so now, but I tell you: These people need blood."

After a few more moments of silence, Adron waved his hand. “You have matters to discuss, get on with it.”

An hour passed with the council members discussing matters of the state. Governors needed appointment while officials needed to be named. Adron nearly fell asleep at his desk before a soldier interrupted the meeting. “It’s time, sir, the guillotines has been assembled and the crowd is waiting. Adron nodded and motioned to the council to follow him to the balcony. When he stepped onto the balcony, he was nearly knocked back by what he saw. The King’s Garden took up nearly four square city blocks with a massive plaza in front of the palace, yet it seemed every single soul in the capital had come to see the execution, filling the plaza and spilling out into the distance. Adron began to sweat briefly, doubting what he said earlier, but soon got ahold of himself. The time had come, and he was committed without a doubt. He looked over to the soldier posted on the soldier next to him and nodded. The soldier raised a red flag. An iron gate creaked loudly open across the plaza. A path had been cleared by soldiers posted along the cobblestone ground, barely keeping the crowd at bay. A line, stretching all the way to to the Royal Prison began to move. Nobles in various attire, chained together by ankle and wrist, were urged slowly along, and at its head walked the king and the queen.

Seeing the long line, the surging anger of the crowd, and five guillotines below him, Adron sighed, but for the first time, not out of weariness, but out of a sense of content. “Finally…” Adron thought, “I’ve done it.”

-BREAKING NEWS-

HOLFGAR DEAD!!! THE REPUBLIC STANDS TALL!!!

Today Field Marshal Adron overthrew the monarchy of Avalia, charging the King and the nobility with treason, neglect of the nation, and abandonment of its people, sentencing them to death by beheading! Despite an attempted attack on the procession, the gathered crowd destroyed the King’s Guard before they could even get close! Word is spreading of mobs wreaking havoc across several districts. The Field Marshal vows that order shall be restored in the capital. Across the nation, the people celebrate this new hero of Avalia as the army ejects what little overseeing agencies of the Imperium have in their once loyal vassal. Now the Republic braces for new enemies and a new government!

The streets were dangerous these days, they've always been since the conquest of the home island. Even the Shogun didn’t feel safe with his dozen bodyguards as they could’ve have been infiltrated by revolutionaries, religious zealots, and nationalist fanatics. Eyes and ears are everywhere on the streets of Nankyo, the capital of the Shogunate, as the motorcar traveled along. Ever since the title “Shogun Emperor” was split in two, Adolo Yirlu, like all of his predecessors, could see the ire of every Yamato. His own mother reported having recurring nightmares ever since he was picked to be the Shogun and Viceroy of the Kitagawa as it was a very stressful and sometimes dangerous job. After all, it was a common sight to see a car bombing or a murder of a Yllendyr policeman in the newspapers throughout the Imperium. The Shogunate was the main source for basic news that could be put on paper. Yirlu hate going to sleep wondering if he was going to make it into the morning.

The Securitariat were also not having fun dealing with the Shogunate as every agent being sent into the home island end up with two agents in coffins and a thrid reported to be MIA. Insurgent cells sprang up faster than the secret police and Shogun’s efforts combined. Even though no major rebellion has ever occurred, the efforts to contain them was quite frankly taxing in terms of manpower and logistics. It was a burden to hunt down a camp due to the sheer size and geographic terrain of sub-continental island.

Suddenly, the motorcar stopped with the bodyguards rushing ahead of them.

Few streets away, a man in police uniform entered an alley and found package hidden inside. Afterwards, man switched his uniform with civilian clothes in package, where he also found Theilmu Navy .36 revolver. Fully loaded too.

After mindlessly watching the streets and buildings moved past him, Yirlu realized that the security haven’t returned nor in the process of catching up to them.
Whilst chauffeur tried to explain odd and risky situation, the inconspicuous man moved quickly from the street's corner, opened the driver’s car door and shot the chauffeur twice in the head, before he could react in any way.
The shooter in disguise will never say it to any living soul, but it was his eyes, which will remember forever, from everything happened and will happen. Yirlu looked so...surprised. So much surprised, indeed, that a Yamato murdered a Yamato in front of a Yllendyr.

He briefly smiled like a tiger being friendly to the Shogun before his face hardened again.



Everything happened in matter of seconds as the gunshots from the assassination panicked the protestors and the security causing the police and bodyguards to open fire onto the crowd, killing dozens of civilians.

As for the assassin, he simply disappeared, having accomplished his mission in revenge.

Soon, newspapers would bear the news:

March 10th 1840:
Volkhard was a humble man, volunteering to join the National Army when he was 18. Coming from a commoner background neither he or his peers expected him to make the rank of General. But surprisingly he discovered an affinity for leading and inspiring men, now 10 years later he found himself standing on the border with the Yllendyr Imperium near the Delwe River. Word had been passed to the general staff that the Yllandyr have been massing on the other side of the border. Probably due to King Aschwin’s declining health, and the three princes attempting to vie for control in the palace.

This of course led to Volkhard being sent to guard this wide open plain this was the perfect avenue for a Yllendyr invasion. Unlike the mountains on the northern portion of the national border this southern corridor was a wide open plain with small rolling hills stretching down to the sea. Occasional forests dot the landscape primarily used as fertile farmland by the locals. Not to mention that if unopposed gave one a direct route to the capital of Venris which is 2 weeks away on foot.

Looking up from his thoughts Volkhard looked out once more across the plain and started to consider his plan.

March 24th 1840:
“The Empire enters grieving for the Late Emperor Aschwin, who passed away in his sleep at the age of 87 years. A group of officials led by the prime minister is being organized to plan the funeral, and determine the successor to the throne. The palace is going to be very turbulent these next few weeks.” ~Excerpt from Venris Tribune.

March 27th 1840:
Volkhard exits his tent after listening to a scout report. Walks up to a soldier a rips the telescope from his hands and presses it up to his face. Through the telescope he sees a seemingly unending wave of Yllendyr soldiers with their purple caps, and grey uniforms marching into the Empire. His worst fears confirmed he orders the men to the defences, and sends a report to headquarters. Which read as follows: “The Imperium Troops approach, Endless in number, We defend to the end, See you in Valhalla.” ~General der Infanterie, Volkhard VonKilier

August 12th 1840:
“After months of stiff resistance Imperium troops have entered Venris, the capital of our old enemy the Vaspen Empire today. This is a historic day!” ~Yllendyr Newspaper

Venris:
As the Imperium troops marched into the now former capital of the Vaspen Empire, Venris. The civilians of the city walked out of their homes into the streets to see the invading army. The many footsteps reverberating down the streets were unsettling. As the troops approached a wave of gasps and screams in terror enveloped the crowd of onlookers. The majority of the army was composed of Lierin Spider-ants that were led by a small percentage of Yllendyr soldiers. These Spider-Ants were sent away by their home nation due to their rapid breeding. In recent years their destination was always shrouded in mystery, but now it would seem that the Yllendyr have been using them as mercenaries to bulk up their forces to dominate the continent!
As the Yllendyr Commander Andec entered the city to see and hear the screams of terror from the inhabitants he let a smile creep onto his face. ‘Those Vaspenians for too many years they have been safe and sound here at home. The glory of Yllendyr finally has a chance to shine now that we have defeated you!’ he then gave an order to his commanders to proceed to the palace and inspect the food stores of the city. The food stores had all been requisitioned by the defending troops and transported to warehouses near the center of the city. Upon reaching the stores they found that almost all of it had been destroyed. Barely enough to feed his Imperium army detachment of 100,000 for a week remained. Cursing under his breath Andec proceeds to the palace where the royalty, important documents and gold reserves have been evacuated. Almost as though they were expected to be able to take the city down quickly and had been evacuated months beforehand. Andec then calls his men together and assigns them the task of defending the city until reinforcements and supplies arrive from the border region. Returning to the emperor’s bedroom he sits down in the chair and opens up a bottle of wine from the cellar, a 1810 vintage wine, takes a few sips and goes to write up his report to the Imperial emperor.
That evening outside the city Vaspen troops are massing. Under the sight that is burning buildings, and the sounds of screaming from within the city they surround Venris on three sides, the fourth being the lake shore. All of the remaining reserves have been thrown into this battle which will decide the fate of the country. Over 200,000 young vaspen warriors are taking part in this operation with another 1,500,000 defending at the front lines 50 Meile away from Venris. The troops set up camp and prepare to defend.

August 13th 1840:
The Yllendyr troops quickly notice that they are surrounded, with no method of escape or resupply. The commander immediately orders all Yllendyr troops to search the city for food and to setup some defences at the perimeter of the city, hoping that reinforcements breakthrough soon. However the Vaspen troops know that this is their only chance to turn the tides and defend for all it’s worth.

August 20th 1840:
“A week has passed since the encirclement, food and ammunition are running low. The surrounding forces have counterattacked everyday with unrelenting ferocity to retake this city. Their constant assaults leave the soldiers tired, and hungry. We have had to stop issuing rations to some of the Spider-Ant regiments due to the lack of food. Those regiments have been ordered to find what they can in the city, but i fear that while they come back full, the numbers of civilians in the city seems to be decreasing. My fellow officers and soldiers have started to take out their frustrations on the populace as well, many look down in shame and self disgust when i ask about where they go at night. So i followed a few last night and i saw two of my men brutally rape and then murder two women. I was disgusted with my men and this morning i punished them both with lashings to set an example, however i doubt it had much impact on the others.” ~Andec’s personal log

September 1st 1840:
“Upon entering Venris after almost 3 weeks of assaulting it we finally broke the enemy, and discovered the atrocities they have committed within our city. There are corpses scattered on the ground everywhere both civilian and Yllendyr. The civilian corpses are brutally disfigured and naked. Skeletons litter the alleyways bones picked clean of meat. In the parks mass graves have been half filled. The remaining Yllendyr soldiers that have surrendered, and the civilians that are alive tell horrible tales of the Spider ants roaming the streets in search of people to eat. The unfortunate not being found till the next day by the soldiers, and then carted off to the graves to prevent disease. The women tell us of their female friends and family being taken by the soldiers only to turn up dead the next day. It is truly a horrifying and gruesome sight to behold.”~Vaspen commander official report to headquarters on the remains of Venris


Venris, February 3rd 4901 (Imperial Calendar): Viceroy Riceh Adruzil, was sitting in his rather luxurious office, looking out over the city. His tall and strong physique is evident in his clothing choice, a nice fitting suit. His face is quite passive as he reads the daily reports from the dominion until a screeching sound came from the radio in the corner which up until now had been playing a beautiful symphony.
“zzzzzZZZZZZ….. This is an Emergency Broadcast straight from Ylleria… The Emperor has died… I repeat the Emperor has died… The Crown prince has been assassinated, and The 2nd & 3rd princes, Olarth, and Ecruir, have both announced their intent to inherit the throne. The 4th prince has also been killed reportedly by Ecruir, and the 5th prince is currently missing. With no clear inheritance path for either Olarth or Ecruir, Yllendyr has devolved into Civil war…. This concludes our Emergency announcement thank you for your patronage. We will be bringing you further developments straight from the capital. ZZZZzzzz...”
Riceh, stares at the radio for a few moments in utter silence. His mind is tumultuous. He drops the documents in his hands as he realizes the implications of this development. He immediately calls for a meeting of the top Ministers, and the military advisor.

Cindro Sonvria, was sitting in her office in the capital as she heard the broadcast of the situation in Yllendryr. As she was reeling from the information a messenger appeared at her door frantically knocking. Upon receiving the message she reported to the viceroy’s office to find Gorrod, and Alibu, just arriving as well. The three of them enter the Office to find Riceh sitting behind his desk with a blank look on his face.

Riceh looks up as the three most important people in the Vaspen Dominion walk in, he motions for them all to sit. Cindro is a tall (for a woman) and lanky dark elf with dark black hair falling down past her shoulders. Her glasses add a look of intelligence, as well as her business attire... Quite appropriate for the Industry Minister. Gorrod is a modestly muscular elf, with a Yllendyr military uniform on. His few medals shine from their perch on his left breast, and his boots have a similar gleam. Alibu the minister of the treasury is a short elf, with a passion for numbers. He looks a little disheveled as he normally does, but always attentive to what is going on.

Reich looks at each of them individually, and says “ I assume you have all heard what has happened in the capital by now, so what is most important is for us to hold the dominion together while this upsetting news spreads. I’m sure the resistance movement is going to make quite a few moves during this time.”

Alibu looks at the others and then at Riceh, “That would be the most prudent way to proceed, however there is the civil war we need to think about…”

“The Civil war back home will be inconsequential, if we don’t manage to maintain control over the Vaspen… Therefore i will make an official telegram to both parties notifying them of our neutrality until we get everything under control.” Riceh then looks at Gorrod. “I need you to step up our presence in the north. Those despicable rebels are sure to make a move soon, and i need to know when.”

“Of course Sir, however it will decrease our ability to deal with any protests in the cities.” replies Gorrod.

“The police should be able to handle most of that if need be. But the Rebels are what i’m really worried about.”

“It will be done then sir. I’ll pass on the appropriate orders now.” Gorrod Departs.

“Now Cindro, i’ll need you to step up the production of certain items, and do what you can to help prevent strikes in the factories. This is the list of items i need you to start producing.” Riceh says as he hands her a list of items:

Steam Locomotives, Rail cars (all types except passenger), Communication equipment, Artillery pieces (limited), Bolt action rifles (Limited), Ammunition for both previous items.

Cindro looks at the list for a moment, before looking up at Riceh and saying. “I can certainly start production on all of these, but we will need to import more raw materials for the ammunition.”

“Don’t worry about the materials, just let me know the amount you need and i’ll look to find a source for it, and as for specific numbers i’ll send it to your office later today.’
“Now that you have been apprised of the situation you are both dismissed, i’ll be here in my office if you require me.” Riceh says as he watches them both leave.

After the door closes he slumps in his chair as he ponders on what is next to come….


Northern Mountain Range February 3rd 1901 :
In a dark cave like room the walls hewn from stone with very little in the way of decoration, a old man sits on the side of the bed. His fur is pure white with many spots missing from what looks like old injuries, his body is muscular, but weak looking due to his age. Clothed in an old military uniform his face hidden by the shadow from his uniform cap he stands with the help of a cane, and exits the bedroom. Slowly making his way down a similarly furnished hallway he approaches a large room with a long rectangular table with some forty or fifty people seated at it. In this room it has been decorated a little bit more than the previous, the table has a red cloth with gold stitching running the length, the chairs are beautifully carved with red cushioned seats on the table there are wine glasses that are partially full. The people seated at the table stand at the sight of the old man and immediately salute him. The old man hobbles to the head of the table and takes a seat, glances around the table, and takes a swig of wine from the glass in front of him. One of the women remains standing while the others sit, she picks ups some paper and reads the report to them:

“One of our people within the Viceroy’s administration has informed us of the collapse of Yllendyr royal family, the Emperor, the Crown prince, and the 4th prince have been killed. While the 2nd princes are splitting the country by creating a civil war. Ecruir, has the support of the northern portion of the country. While Olarth, has support from the southern half. The current whereabouts of the 5th prince, Nidrak, are currently unknown, but he is believed to be in hiding. That concludes my report.”

Setting the glass down the old general thinks for a moment and then speaks with a soft but powerful voice, “Inform our people to prepare, but not to act quite yet, we need to see what the loyalists are planning. Mobilize our legions, and ramp up our production. I get the feeling we are going to need to make this a decisive war of liberation.”

After another hour of discussion the others in the room start to trickle out, some to their posts in the cities, others to towns, all of them ready for action… but not today.

After the “local leaders” leave the old warrior looks up and addresses the few remaining in the room. “How is our infiltration going?”

One of the men obscured in shadows of the room replies “We have managed to infiltrate two of the auxiliary legions in the territory… not as many as we hoped, but we have confidence that we can disperse them efficiently.”

“Yes… not as many as we hoped, but that will be enough to give us an edge, especially once they behold our trump card.”


Later that day: “Herr General” as he has come to be known to the rebels walks onto the factory floor, it is a large expanse situated on level 2 of the mountain fortress. The room is 20 feet tall, 30 feet in some places, a true cavern in the rock. Many machines and workers dot the floor, producing everything from Artillery guns to the smallest round of ammunition. He approaches the foreman, a dwarf actually, he’s very short in stature even compared to the old general. His beard is long and braided, with many crumbs, and rolls of paper tucked into it. The General shouts at the dwarf who is inspecting the work of one of the other dwarves. “Ludgrath!”

Ludgrath looks up from what he is doing, and quickly shoves the rifle back into the other dwarves’ hand. “General! Good to see you! What brings you up here to the shop?”

“Oh come now Lud, you know i’m up here to see That. now let’s go have a look.”

The General hobbles over to a large curtained off section of the shop with Ludgrath in tow, as he steps inside Ludgrath guides him over to a small desk, where he pulls out one of the rolls of paper from his beard and spreads it out on the desk. As the general looks across the plans for his beloved weapon one more time, Ludgrath runs around the various large sized objects covered in tarps and pulls the tarps off one by one.

The General looks up from the plans, and beholds what they have manifested. The objects once covered in tarps now are revealed to be an armoured Locomotive and carriages, four in total. Ludgarth then started to describe each part in detail for the general.

“The locomotive is a 0-10-0 G-10 class steam locomotive, the standard goods train in the Dominion. Rebel forces had captured it a year ago in a raid on a local rail yard. After my assistants and I disassembled it and transported the parts back to the fortress we reassembled and modified it to what you see here, I call it the RL-1.”


Above The RL-1 in transit.

“The other cars have been “Reposessed” from the dominion in a similar fashion, any time we took a couple railway cars one would go missing discreetly. Two of cars were passenger cars, that we armoured to allow troops to be transported inside through any small caliber fire with no harm to the occupants. These will allow us to have a mobile strike force to threaten multiple places on the battlefield at once. The other two cars as you can see were once standard flat cars, but have been modified to mount two 15cm artillery guns in turret mounts on each car. Each with a copious amount of ammunition. We estimate that these four guns can provide up to four hours of effective barrage before having to resupply. And how could we forget to add gatling guns to every possible surface!” Lud says as he gestures to the gatling guns two on each side, and one on each end of the cars.

By the end of Lud’s description the General is grinning from ear to ear. “Very good Lud! You have done me proud! These will provide us an excellent surprise for those traitorous Loyalists!”

February, 4901, somewhere in the Northern Range Mountains.....

Lieutenant general Zavros Omrud snaps himself out of sleeping due to the locomotive's sound. The Trans-Aurelian Railway sure was busy today. Zavros peeked outside of his wagon to inspect the famed beauty of the Nothern Range Mountains.



The military train was stamped with Yllendir sigils at every door. Zavros opened his official records book in order to once again take a look over the cargo of the train. Bolt action rifles, artillery and rifle ammunition and general food ration supplies. The train was heading towards the capital of the province. Ever since the crisis of the twin emperors, Aurelia has been increasingly becoming a fire pot. Imperial authorities received increased reports of dissidence, especially in the remote areas of the Midlands.
Everything was quiet, the peace of the train was undisturbed, or so it seemed. Within the blink of an eye, the train's conductor pulled a forced attempt at stopping the train as an explosion could be heard in the distance. Zavros, together with his men, fimly grasped the seat's handles as the train eventually began to fall off the railway bridge. The train smashed itself from the cliffs and eventually stopped between a narrow corridor through the mountain. It seems that his operation was planned. Some of the Yllendir soldiers fell to their doom further down the valley, with some passing out due to trauma from being thrown around in the train. A handful of them were aware, including Zavros. Within ten minutes, a swarm of figures began to descend from small caves in the cliffs, down unto the train. The locomotive was on fire, burning coal being spilled everywhere. Eventually, the locomotive exploded, sending a wave of push force through the mysterious figures, each struggling to maintain their balance. Zavros's vision was dizzy enough to make him not realise what was happening on the moment, but he could distinguish the vague sound of bullets flying around.
Eventually, the atmosphere calmed down, and Zavros found himself being grabbed by what appears to be the infamous aurelian rebels. You could certainly distinguish them from the previous yells of "EEEEHAYYYYY!" and "YEEEEEEHHHHAAAAA!". No, this wasn't a silly non-sense child shout, this was the famous rebel yell of the aurelians, a tradition from the peasants who used these sounds to distinguish themselves over vast terrain in the swamps and forrests of the Midlands.
After the general has been captured, he was tied tightly and put a bag over his head. The rest of the surviving dark elves were executed by headshot from a revolver, each being spat on by the rebels before being killed. The rebels cried out in victory as they signaled the others to climb down on the train. In half of an hour, wooden crates and medium containers tied to rope were descending down, together with a dozen more people. The heavy cargo was loaded on the crates and containers, while multiple rifles were attached to the back of each rebel. Such an operation lasted two hours roughly. Finally, the rebels torched the train further, leaving only the metal structure of the train to partially survive.

Later in the same day....

A bucket of water splash and Zavros wakes up, finding himself almost naked, aside of his underwear and a few bandages around his wounds. By the looks of it, seems like the rebels want him alive. "Wake up, elf." said one of the men standing outside of the cell the general was in. "You've just signed your death warrance, rebel scum." replied the dark elf, managing to stand up, although unbalanced.
The general was escorted through stone halls and chambers, many with overgrown mushrooms and cave fauna. At the end of a hall, the general understood where he was, an old dwarven settlement, now inhabited by the rebels.



Along the way, the general is spat on and mocked by the rebels, who were intrerupted from their meals and trainings. Entering one of the stone buildings, the rebels put the general on a chair and has his hands and feet tied down against his will. "Release me at once, and you have my personal promise that you and your band will receive the mercy of the Empire in the form of conscri-" the general could not finish his sentence because a swift punch from one of the men landed on his right cheek, making him cry out in pain and grunt afterwards.
"You're going to spend the next weeks, maybe months, here. You best listen closely and collaborate." said the rebel who seemed to command here. The next hours of the day were infernal for the general, where he refused to answer the interrogation of the rebels, he either had one of his nails pulled off, or a teeth taken out.

February, 4901, Midlands forrest......

Days passed like crazy since Caleb found himself alone in the forrest. Sure, his entire life living in a village proved fruitful, for he learnt the arts of surviving in nature, but you could only survive much time. The winter was mild in the Midlands, but still, coldness increasingly crept through Caleb's body as days passed. He returned to his hideout, a small cave in the roots of an enormous tree. He spent the last number of days there, making the fire, eating worms, mushrooms and squirrels from time to time. His ammunition was depleted, for he used the last bullets in a previous fight with a boar. By pure luck, he didn't encounter wolves yet....but he was suffering from a cold, looked like it would be a severe one. At night, while lamenting in his own pain and neverending coughs, Caleb made peace with the fact that he will most likely die in a forgotten forrest, failing his father. On occasion, memories from childhoold would pop up in his head, from playing with his brother to learning how to ride on Tom. Eventually, he closed his eyes.

It seemed like just a second since he passed out. Caleb opened his blurry vision to see himself inside someone's house. The sun gently shined through the window, the shadows of various alchemy glasses tainting the illuminated floor.



Caleb gets up quietly as the bed cracks some noises, promting an elderly woman to come out of a room. Caleb looks at her with suspicion at first."When I found you, I couldn't tell if you were alive or asleep, now it seems you're healthy as ever" said the woman, smiling warmfully.
"W-Where am I? Who are you?" replied Caleb, still dizzy.
"I believe the correct words are 'Thank you!', young man.
Caleb quickly proceeds to look around for his satchel, which he spots on the chair next to the bed. He reaches the satchel in order to search through to see if the old lady hasn't stolen anything.
"Don't worry, I'm no thief. All your belongings are there, untouched. You were in a bad state, the winter cold seemed to kill you slowly. You're experiencing a dizzyness state because I infused in you some personal herbs for revitalization and cure.
"Why? Why did you bring me here? Why did you save me? replied Caleb curiously.
The old lady gestured for Caleb to wait as a noise came from the kitchen. She went towards the kitchen, gesturing for him to follow her. As both went inside the kitchen, the old lady had Caleb sit on the wooden table with a wonderful sheet ontop, full of aurelian traditional motifs. The old lady was brewing some porridge and she served Caleb her own special recipe.
"Why I saved you? It's what I do, me and the dogs, too!
"The dogs?"
"How do you think I carried you here, sweety? All by myself? No, the dogs pulled the sleigh with you on it.
The two would go on for many hours to talk about pretty much anything. Apparently this old lady has lived her whole life with her husband alone in this forrest. She and her husband grew together ever since they were children during the conquest of Aurelia. Both of their families were among those who took refuge in the forrest after the war.
Listen, I have to get to Aurelia as quickly as possible. Know any route out of here? said Caleb, eventually remembering his mission.
The forrest is pierced by a railway, trains usually stop here in order to collect wood from the local camp. You can try and sneak in one of the wagons.

That was the plan from then. Once he left the old lady, he followed the path that the elderly lady told him about and arrived at the camp in the middle of the night. Seems like everyone was sleeping. His luck once again hit him as he saw the train suspended on the stone bridge that pierced through the trees of the forrest. With huge caution, Caleb made his way past the wooden fence and without making any sound, he climbed the metal ladder upwards, arriving at the tracks. He pulled the door aside as quiet as he could and hopped on in one of the wagons, making sure he'll be hidden through the numerous wood stacked. The next day, the train began it's course to the capital, Aurelia...

February 5th, 4901 YDC (Yllendyr Dynastic Calendar)
Vermillion Citadel, Ylleria, Capital of the Imperial Yllendyr Sovereignty


Portrait of 76th Emperor Ecruir Vyalviur of the Yllendyr, First of His Name, Bane of the Barbarians, Sovereign and Protector of the Fifteen Dominions of V'landriel, clad in the traditional vermillion garb of the Vyalviur Dynasty

Ecruir paced back and forth alongside an intricate, table-carved map of the Fifteen Dominions: Lumenor, Kitagawa, Fibor, Endaria, Velendaal, Vaspen, Lierin, Aurelia, Fenice, Ot-Skodat, Zeeborg-Fallia, the Forest, Vaurgemyr, Drzewa, and Avalia. He traced his fingers along its curves, recalling his coronation a few days ago. The Keeper of Ylleria speaking all these words.

Just a few days, and already that number had in reality fallen to fourteen, likely thirteen soon, if that, not even counting those that had defected to his brother. The Avalians were in open rebellion, having launched a coup against that Imperium-backed puppet, King Holfgar. The Viceroy Yirlu assassinated in the Dominion of Kitagawa, and the whole country falling into chaos. Disorganized Yllendyr auxilia, genuine shames to the glory of the Imperium, defecting or worse in both of those countries, turning to petty banditry like the filthy unwashed barbarians that most of them were, despite the discipline the Yllendyr had tried to beat into them. Such disgrace only reinforced Ecruir's dismissive attitude of his father's policies towards integration. Sixty years of that had gotten him nowhere.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the Imperial Conclave. These were the group of advisors that managed each of the critical sectors of the Imperium's government. They were all selected by his father, but he had taken the liberty of replacing a few of them upon his ascension.

Leading the procession into the room was the Minister of War, by almost any measure the man of the moment. His name was Ludrami Diesriniel, and he was first and foremost among the batch of new recruits. A man whose reputation well preceded him, the famed general of the campaign to suppress a dangerous revolt in the Kitagawa Shogunate. His legendary military tactics annihilated troops that many in the Imperium government felt were impossible to defeat from their suicidal courage. Now was the time in which his military experience was more relevant than ever. He had replaced the ineffectual woman who had been in charge for the last forty years, whose achievements seemed to amount to no more than putting ever more ornate designs and ceremonial dresses on Imperium troops. Ludrami was a real warrior in an age which had begun to forget war, who took seriously the grave threat the Imperium faced in this fatal hour and knew best how to crush it in its infancy.

Moving up to the right hand side of the table, he briefly bowed. "Your Imperial Majesty." The others followed him in this, assembling on both sides of the table, eleven in all. War, Dominion Administration, Agriculture, Commerce, Securitariat, Treasury, Judiciary, Health, Transportation, Education, and Colonial Affairs.

The Minister of the Securitariat was also new, a man by the name of Cinvad Eldroth, as the one for the last twenty years had proven considerably incompetent. Missing the Avalian coup was already bad enough, but the assassination was yet another nail in the coffin.

Ecruir couldn’t be bothered to actually follow the formal order of reporting in to the Emperor, so when the Minister of Agriculture opened his mouth to speak he just dismissively cut in.

“Ludrami, I presented all the relevant information on the rebellions in Avalia and unrest elsewhere to you yesterday, as well as the forces led by my errant brother. I have some ideas, but I would first like to hear your impressions on the state of the Imperium, and how best we can address these… problems.” The slight hesitation and tone of the last word packed an almost tangible amount of menace and disgust.

Ludrami took it in stride. The old man thought for a moment, then began, “Unfortunately, you must go to war with the army you have, not the army you want. There is simply no better way to put this situation than to describe it as a disaster. A dominion has declared independence, and a few more seem to be sitting on the fence, ready to pounce like vultures on our corpse if we show weakness.”

Ecruir nodded. “We must move swiftly to crush any unrest in these dominions to knock such foolish notions out of their heads.”

“With all due respect, Your Imperial Majesty,” the Minister of War reluctantly began raising his head, “that is a suicidal idea. If you spread your forces too thin, you will lose every battle instead of winning some.”

Ecruir looked slightly browbeaten at this, but he was still listening. “So, then, what do you suggest?”

“We keep what we have. Start at the center. We should pull as many forces from the nearby loyal dominions we can afford without endangering our hold over them to crush the pretender Olarth in the south. This will render you the sole Emperor, and so the Imperial Sentinels will pledge loyalty to you. This is the army you want. Once we have reunited the Crownlands, we then turn to the remaining loyal dominions. We reinforce them and ensure that they will not fall to native unrest. When that is done, finally we can turn to the rebellious dominions, place our full force upon them, and complete their resubjugation. There is no reason we should push to retake these places immediately with our current position so untenable.”

“While I am sure this is sound military advice, politically, this makes no sense. Leaving the rebellious provinces alone, with no penalties for their insolence, is something I cannot stand, and will encourage the others to revolt just as swiftly. We cannot wait for the Sentinels to decide they finally want to help crush the rebellions, the traitors.” Ecruir spat on the ground.

There was an evil twinkle in Ludrami’s eye, despite the vitriolic words Ecruir had just spouted at him. “I never suggested we leave the rebellious provinces alone entirely. Rather, we should make an example of the one which has been most successful. Avalia, was it? I think that serves a perfect testing ground.”

A moment of dawning recognition fell upon Ecruir's face. "The Southern Fleet."

"Absolutely," replied Ludrami. We can hit the enemy hard, reinforce any forces in the area which might have been cut off, evacuate any forces as need be, and we can also hit them from the sides."

Vaenda Ordul, Minister of Dominion Administration, stepped forward. "If I may, Your Imperial Majesty."

Ecruir nodded, this was another person he valued input from. She had been working closely with the Viceroys for many years, and had a much better grasp of how each Dominion functioned.

"Both Dominions around Avalia are very loyal to the Imperium. While in Avalia we have only five legions which have remained solvent albeit with considerable defections, the other three disbanding, in Vaurgemyr and Ot-Skodat, we have eight and six respectively. That should be more than sufficient to regain control of the region. In the north, we can order the deployment of Velendaal troops to Kitagawa to do the same, provided they don't side with Olarth. I recommend issuing a directive to all three Dominions allowing the mobilization of local armies."

"That seems like a wise course of action, I'll do that," Ecruir replied. He nodded. "Okay, let's go over the other Dominions, so I can be sure of what we have where."

Ludrami continued. "We have two auxilia in Lumenor, but I don't expect that to be an issue, they're too busy freezing to rebel." The Emperor chuckled slightly. Kitagawa is a similarly bad situation, there are reports that two legions have disbanded already out of ten, and a third seems to have outright defected. Vaspen, the same, and there are reports of militant movements in the mountains. Both nations seem likely to make moves soon."

Ecruir looked to another man on the right side of the table, the Securitariat Minister, Cinvad. Nodding, he began: "We've got agents working at full capacity in both dominions, and we've deployed riot police in most major cities. Still, the unrest is... impressive. The situation in Kitagawa is particularly intense, so we were forced to ask the Auxilia to substitute. That didn't turn out so well, so we're shipping in reinforcements as fast as we can. I'm afraid we'll have to open up machine gun fire on civilians if this keeps up. The networks in both Dominions are really sadly lacking from my predecessor's tenure, which makes it difficult to prevent. I'm working around the clock to reform our operatives in the other dominions to prevent such a debacle from happening again."

Vaenda briefly cut in, leaning over the left side of the table, "We've appointed a new Viceroy as Shogun, Adolo's brother Rhekin. We're sending him to the Treaty Port of Nilrandell, where his administration is bound to be more secure. I wouldn't count on the survivability of any Yllendyr in Nankyo nowadays. However, it will take a week, and communication is very sporadic. Many of the auxilia are disorganized and taking unilateral action, and one has even disgracefully chosen to side with the Emperor, officers and all."

Ecruir looked shocked. "That's very concerning. Is there an apparent reason?"

Vaenda gave him a deadpan look. "Yes, it's the man who's brother you ordered executed last month for treason."

The Emperor winced a little. "And the others? Where looks the most precarious?"

The Securitariat minister looked up from his notes and spoke up. "Aurelia's a trouble spot, as expected. Some sabotage has already been reported. I've ordered all operatives there to be extra vigilant. We're not sure about Fenice and Zeeborg-Fallia, but they could just be biding their time. I just hope most don't flip to Olarth, as that would complicate our plans immensely."

Ecruir's green eyes flashed dangerously. "We'll have to make it clear that any Dominion which sides with him will face dire retribution, and any who cooperate with his forces will be executed for treason. This is not the right side to be on. I expect you all to move to carry out your duties immediately."

The three nodded. "Yes, Your Imperial Majesty," they chorused in unison.

---

Letter from the True 76th Emperor of the Imperial Yllendyr Sovereignty, His Imperial Majesty Olarth Vyalviur, to the Fifteen Dominions

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 crush any who stand in the way of his vision.

I write to call upon your oath to the true Emperor, not this murderer. For too long, the Imperium 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 Fifteen Dominions, not the looters 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.

As Emperor, I will grant all Dominions the right to self-government as vassal nations, and cease to impose our foreign rules and political systems upon those who would like to be governed differently. I will end the practice of tribute taken from the Dominions, beyond that which is used to maintain its military forces and infrastructure. Finally, I will abolish the abominable practice of slavery across the Imperium. I ask all nations to help in spite of our differences to build a brighter future for all our peoples.

Sincerely,
Emperor Olarth

Deep within the labyrinthine tunnels that lay under the Old Mountain, in a place without any light save for that which emanated from the odd luminescent mushroom, a group of Weavers met. The chamber they gathered in was an ancient one, a nest used by their people in ages long past. Gerum, the defacto leader of her people, and perhaps the largest and most formidable Weaver born in centuries, gazed out into the darkness of the old room and shuddered to think of the number and scale of the creatures which had once lived there. It was why she had gathered them here for this, for them to guess at the significance of this place and come to a conclusion; this vast space was a hint of what they had been, what they could be.

As was custom it was not Gerum that spoke first, but a young male less than half her size, “Gerum, the preparations are complete. Our contact in Lieria has agreed to meet me to negotiate.”

The eerily resonant voice of the smaller spider was magnified by the expanse of the room, no, the great hall. Gerum tapped the rock below her in acknowledgement. That was good, for all they were less than their distant ancestors they had acquired tools the likes of which had always eluded their species in ancient days: manners, connections, friends. Gerum spoke softly, she had no need to grandstand, “This is good. You will have the resources of our people to bargain with, but no more. You understand child?”

Reading a Weaver was hard, even among their own kind, but Gerum was old now. She could feel the boys trepidation as he replied, “I do Gerum, but... May I ask why we have not asked the others Gerum? The Harpies are not without resources, nor are the Ursine. Even the Dryads keep treasures of the past.”

It would be the height of impertinence for a mere merchant to question the leader of their people, at least if that people were not Weavers. Weavers didn’t bother with pointless displays of deference, Gerum could devour every Weaver in this chamber even if they all turned on her, what did she have to prove? The question was valid, if naive, anyhow. The others in attendance would have asked it of her sooner or later.

Gerum laughed in the hissing manner of her people, “Boy... Agur. As you are not a Great Being I cannot expect you to know this, but the consensus of the Great Beings is not an apolitical affair. The Harpies folly all those years ago has had their voice in the consensus all but stripped while our connections, the connections you and your peers have made, has made ours larger than it has ever been. When we speak now, even the Dryads listen. Tell me, what would happen if we asked the Harpies for aid?”

Agur looked vaguely shocked. He was accustomed to the politics of outsiders, but to see that here? Had it always been so? He answered as he would have if he were speaking of Elven affairs, “They would regain their voice if the deal worked, and we would be held responsible if they led us to disaster again.”

Gerum tapped the floor and a number of the other weavers did the same. She spoke to the group as a whole, “You understand. As for the Ursine, they have no interest in such things. Why share the credit if the ally we might make is content to never speak out? The Dryads... They need no more power, nor do the Shadows. For untold eons they have dominated the consensus, but old and wise as they may be, their perspectives are the ones of those who need not worry about their next meal, their next year. The Dryads and Shadows have seen the forest reduced to a fraction of itself, have seen its inhabitants shrink with it, and they worry not. Why should they? To them this new civilization is interesting, frightening even, but it will pass as all others have. They can wait.”

Gerum paused, the other Weavers were looked at her with awe, she supposed it had been a long time since another had spoken the truth. She concluded, “No. I will not give them more say in how we will defend the Forest, how we will safeguard ourselves. Agur, you will go and bargain with what we have and you will return with what we need. The others have failed one way or another, we will not. Go knowing that Agur.”

Dismissed, Agur wasted no time in skittering out of the great hall and into a dark tunnel. Gerum watched him leave and reflected on her words, did she really think they could do it better than the Dryads? The Shadows? Well, she supposed they had to try.



Mara sat quietly across from the Dryad that had requested her presence, the wooden woman regarding her inquiringly before finally asked, “They sent... You?”

It should have been an insult, but all Mara felt was relief. She was right, then. The nervous weight lifted off her shoulders, or at least some of it, for the first time since she’d stepped into the Dryads little office off the main street of the city. Well, office was a generous term. The room the young Harpy found herself in was circular and filled to the brim with all manner of foreign and exotic plants and flowers. Such was the density of the flora that the little moss platform and the Dryad resting on it had escaped her notice for nearly a minute after she’d entered. Any polite person would have spoken up, but not a Dryad. The wooden women loved their little jokes.

Mara answered the perplexed Dryad honestly, “They did. I think they’re just glad to be rid of me, or maybe they thought I was the only one who wouldn’t take a swipe at the Prin- err Emperor?”

The Dryad actually sighed, Mara wondered where the air was coming from, before the wooden woman stood from her relaxed posture splayed out on the moss mat and shook her head, “This is why I told Shaetarae sending a Harpy was a bad idea, not that there’s anything wrong with you of course, but I don’t doubt my elder sister was expecting one of your Greater Beings.”

Mara felt vaguely embarrassed, but the Dryad wasn’t wrong. Before the woman's rant could resume Mara spoke up, “I know I’m not what you expected, but I don’t think they’ll send another. If you could just... Tell me what I’m supposed to do? Beyond fly to the court of the new Emperor?”

The Dryad stopped and rubbed her wooden forehead, “Fine. If anything goes wrong I suppose there’s always another Emperor. Oh, that’s right there are two now if you hadn’t heard, you’ll be going to one in the south. I imagine that’s why Shaetarae asked for a Harpy, there are a number of your people on the other side of the Elves wall yes?”

Mara nodded, she’d been told about them before. Well, usually in insults. Apparently the Harpies on the other side of the wall didn’t care for the old ways either. Mara brightened at the idea of actually meeting them, what would they be like after having lived under the Elves for so much longer than her own people?

The Dryad went on, “Well then, maybe speak to them before flying to Altairis to meet the Emperor. Amaena is up north so we have nobody to lecture you on how you’re supposed to act when you’re there, a local might have the inclination to help. Or not. I can tell you you’ll need fancier clothing, they were rather strict about clothing when I was in the Elves army.”

Mara smiled at the idea, she always thought the Yllendyr merchants that traveled to her city looked pretty, “You’ll give me money for them? The clothes?”

The Dryad looked a bit surprised, “Oh, yes they don’t give civilians clothes do they? I’ll give you a fair sum, same as anyone else going out of the forest on a task from the consensus, to be used for clothing and necessities only! As for what you’ll be doing beyond flying to his court I’m told you’ll be mirroring what Amaena did for the last Emperor, that is, being the formal point of contact between the Forest and the Elves, negotiating with them when instructed to and staying in contact with the consensus and Greater Beings. You’ll be the forests representative and our voice.”

Just then the Dryad paused, considered what she’d said, and appraised Mara again, “Are you sure you want to do this? If the Harpies won’t produce a more... Experienced candidate I’m sure Shaetarae will agree to send a Dryad.”

Mara had visibly paled when the Dryad had explained what an ambassador did in detail. She hadn’t been told- How could they have sent her to do that! Still, it was a chance to show the Elves not all Harpies were irascible sets of wings and teeth. It was also a chance to get out of the forest. Out of the forest. That was what she really wanted wasn’t it?

She hesitated, and the Dryad noticed, but Mara spoke with as much confidence as she could muster, “I can do it. If my people won’t send one of the Greater Beings among us I’ll have to do.”

The Dryad almost looked ready to protest, now that the air headed wooden woman took the time to think about it, but eventually just nodded and reached behind a plant. Her hand reappeared with a small bag of money which she handed Mara, “Good luck, then. I know Amaena grew into her position, maybe you will too. You’re to arrive, introduce yourself, and await the arrival of the Weavers who’ve been assigned to aid you. They’re bringing a radio and a clay tree seed to set up the building you’ll work and live in. If all goes well you’ll be able to report on how things went with this Emperor Olarth sooner rather than later, Ambassador... Sorry, what was your name again?”

Mara grinned meekly, “Its Mara.”

The Imperial Palace, constructed to be a mere house for the puppet Emperors of the Shogunate, had taken the initiative to wield executive power throughout the Shogunate. The incompetent Yllendyr Administration was unable to sooth the fury of the Yamato ever since the massacre had occured in the capital. With the citizens becoming dangerously anarchic and the underground movements growing bolder and defiant with every passing hour, Emperor Eikou wrestled with the Yllendyr administrators and succeed in restoring “Shogun Emperor” title, even if it was temporary to the Yllendyr bureaucrats. At least the restoration calmed the moods to an extent in the Shogunate but a new situation has developed for the Shogun Emperor to resolve.

A Yllendyr, dressed in his culture’s businessman attire, stood in front of the door that connected to the Shogun’s office. He arrived under disguise but the palace was secure of any traitor elements, thanks to the help of the Emperor’s own secret police. Two Yamato guards flanked the doorway but one of them allowed entrance to the Yllendyr. After hearing the closing of doors, Shogun Emperor Eikou looked away from the reports and saw his benefactor. He wasn’t alone though, another Yllendyr named Gruthran Gael and a Yamato named Genki Abe are also present.


He handed a few pieces of paper to the Shogun Emperor.


With a bow, Abe took the papers and quickly left the room with new orders. Gael followed suit. “Make sure the legions are in position.” the Emperor called out to him.


Elfod Arloth secretly left the Imperial Palace with the usual request: more names of Securitate agents. It wasn’t hard; after all, he was in charge of the branch stationed in this island. Thankfully, a crowd was forming around a nationalist organization passing out leaflets and hanging up nationalist propaganda posters causing a big enough distraction for the Yllendyr to quickly return to his department.

He prayed that the nationalists, the Meiyo Kaitukukai, would never target him. After all, in order to not be caught, his friendship with the Emperor must not be known to the public. No doubt the month would get even uglier if a legion was ordered to silence the leader group since the citizens are more likely to defend him than hand him over to the Yllendyr.

8th of Sun’s Dawn, 5th year of the Gwangyeong Era (February 8th, 4901 YDC)

Go’jun’s eyes snapped open as the ground around him trembled and shook. He felt no pain, and so turned to look around, eyes scanning his surroundings. To his relief, all he could feel were the soft cushions he rested upon, not the thunder and fury of the battlefield. Go’jun raised his hand, wiping off the droplets of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. His breath calmed as he focused on the present, not the nightmares of his first battle near thirty years ago. No, the Hwa’myeon never hit him that day. His men swept the rebels from the field and he marched into Kin’ryeon, the capital of Ye-hyun Province victorious and as the restorer of Imperial rule.

He had come far since those distant days as a greenhorn Kaein leading his first regiment against the enemies of the Celestial Empire. Though not without his own share of failures, he leapt from victory to victory. Each defeat was but a stepping stone to lift his shining star even higher, for his wings to take him further up to the sky. That was how he rose to be the best of the best and considered to be the greatest tactical mind of his time. Indeed, if his father was sitting beside him now, he would smile as his cub soared higher than he ever had.

The Kaein was 54 now, and was a mere Kaein no more. Go’jun was nothing less than Dai’in, the Supreme Commander of the Banner Armies. And it was because of his role that he was in a carriage headed for the Sun Gate, the entrance to the Imperial Palace; For he was summoned by the esteemed Gwangyeong Empress herself.



__________________________________

An hour later…

The surging crowds gathered around the Sun Gate reached their height as the sun approached its apex in the sky. Li’yen was among those masses watching, waiting to hear the Empress’ public proclamation on the 5th year of her reign. She was not a noble, or any sort of scholar-bureaucrat. Far from it, she and countless others like her made their wealth in Cantha, selling the bounties of Amrea to the foreign traders braving treacherous waters and storms to trade with the Hong.

The shrieks of fireworks launching towards the skies marked the arrival of the Empress on the walls above the gate. They flew gracefully as if to pierce the Sun itself before exploding, painting the midday sky with the patterns of the Imperial Phoenix. The crowd gasped in awe, witnessing the rare spectacle before them as court officials and servants assembled on top of the gate, bowing as the Gwangyeong Empress strode towards the gate’s terrace, clad in the finest silks, her face partially obscured by the pearls hanging from her intricate, emerald-studded crown.

Beside her was a court official, dressed in the garments of a Duke of the Third Rank. It was the highest title available for those outside the Imperial family, and as such, was usually reserved for the Ministers of the Imperial government. Li’yen could see him hold a parchment in his hand, most likely a list of declarations from the Empress.

Her thoughts were interrupted as the crowds kowtowed without a single word when the presence of Her Divine Eminence was made known. She hurriedly joined in the ritual, prostrating herself before the monarch on the terrace above. As the throngs of commoners rose once again, the royal proclamations began.

The speech of the Empress was archaic, a form of Amrean meant for solely for use in writing, not for everyday speech. Li’yen would’ve barely understood what the Empress was saying were it not for the official beside her translating it into a form more relatable to the common people.

“To my good and loyal subjects,” she began, with the voice of the Minister trailing behind, repeating each and every line.

“It has been 5 years since I have ascended to the throne, 5 years since the passing of my mother, the Myosong Empress. I have spent these years pondering, learning, reflecting on the state of our celestial empire, granted to me by the grace of the Sun. I have wondered, what is the purpose of my reign? What shall I achieve with the power placed in my hands? It was not until now that I knew the answer.”

“Perhaps not. I knew the answer when I chose the name of the new era my ascension would bring. The path before us is clear. It is the same path the Emperors of old once attempted to follow. Bankuo, Hwang’son, T’ao-gwang, they all knew the path that we as a people must take, yet they were thwarted both within and without. Our empire is both ancient and vast, we are amongst this earth's oldest people. It is not only our right, but our sacred duty, granted to us by the Sun to be the leaders of the civilized world. We must nurture, guide, and discipline the barbarians, the savages that still have yet to see the bright hope, and the salvation we offer.”

“How else shall we save the myriad millions who live under the gaze of the Sun? To strive for their common prosperity and happiness is our burden. To deliver unto them the Path to Brilliance is our greatest mission. The Celestial Empire shall not look inwards any longer. Thus my proclamation is such!”

“Our vast domain will march once more! From land’s end to land’s end, across the waves in search for those willing to share in our generous beneficence. We will show all that lies under the Sun that the Path to Brilliance is before them!”

“Heed this proclamation and go with the grace that each and everyone of you is working for a far greater goal!”

As the Empress’ speech was brought to a halt, the assembled courtiers cried out as one, speaking in unison. The ground seemed to vibrate around Li’yen as both her and the myriad masses joined the baritone chorus of the palace officials, the cry of an Empire looking out beyond its own borders for the first time since the fall of the Weeping Emperor. The chant reverberated through the air, from the walls of the Sun Gate, to the entirety of the Imperial City of C’hung-jin and the lands beyond.

“Cheonghwa-pyewon, won’sui! Cheonghwa-pyewon, won’sui! Cheonghwa-pyewon, won’sui!"
"All Hail Her Majesty the Empress, may she reign for ten thousand years!"
__________________
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?”

_____________________________________

Letter from the esteemed Gwangyeong Empress, Avatar of the Sun God and Defender of All Civilization in the West, addressed to the Emperor of the Imperial Yllendyr Sovereignty, Protector and Enlightener of his Vast and Proud Domain.

Greetings, most gracious Emperor of the Yllendyr. My envoy has arrived at your court from my own, beyond the great seas separating our great Empires, bearing this letter to be presented to your worthy eyes and your's alone. I write this to you, speaking as one enlightened leader to another, to inform you of the state of decay the world has fallen into.

The barbarians and savages grow without end, blind to the path to brilliance that is our sacred duty to show to them. To civilize them, to bring them out of their folly and instill upon them piety and the benefits of our respective civilizations is our natural course of action. As such I offer you my aid, in return for your own. Together we must act in unison to prevent the decline of the world into an era of unwashed ignorance. We, Amreans, and you, Yllendyr are the Noble Races of this earth. If we neglect our commitments to the cause of civilization, I shudder to think what fate we doom the world to.

If there are uncertainties, refer to my envoy. He will be able to assuage your doubts.

Yours respectfully,
The Gwangyeong Empress

____________________________________________

Letter from the esteemed Gwangyeong Empress, Avatar of the Sun God, Defender of Civilization and Pacifier of the Barbarians, addressed to the various nations of Tien'sha, the Western Continent, with the exception of the Yllendyr colony.

Hitherto, my Celestial Empire has not seen fit to interfere with the affairs of the savage and barbarian states beyond its immediate frontiers. Such was the policy for over two centuries and many years before that, and it was as a result that Tien'sha has fallen into a state of disarray.

It has always been my mission, that of my predecessors and the Empire as a whole to strive for the mutual prosperity of this land's myriad peoples. I will not allow it to be overrun by a sea of unwashed barbarism and savagery. The Dathanari and Gerudo have proven their civilized nature, and thus are exempt from the following lines, as are the civilized Children of Wulfram who acknowledge the benevolent rulership of the Regent Hildegund.

Listen, and tremblingly obey, barbarian states. The Phoenix has risen again and its will, and the will of the Sun will be made manifest. A new order will be constructed and laid in stone from here on, to advance the cause of civilization. Prostrate yourselves before the Empire's will and dispatch your envoys to my court at Chung'jin with tribute posthaste, to mark your submission and admission into the framework of this continent's new order, and that the proper work may begin to cleanse you of your barbaric ways.

________________________________________

The New World, The Burnt Branch Confederacy
Aokki, The Palace Auditorium
17th of February 4901

“Honoured Ajaw,” began the messenger-slave with the poise of someone about to be flayed alive “my honoured Ajaw Zatle humbly requests that this vendetta between our people ends.”

“You raid my villages, sacrifice my warriors to your gods, and think that this is over? Why shouldn't I tear out your throat where you stand?” Screamed Ajaw Chuzzoxk at the helpless messenger. The flickering torches that lit the auditorium and his muscular form conspired to create a terrifying sight for the nervous figure.

“Our warriors' honour was satisfied and our gods were appeased. Your kidnapping of my honoured Ajaw's sister has received recompense and is finished in her eyes. You overstepped your bounds Honoured Ajaw.” The messenger was held to be untouchable on the luxurious mosaic circle of flooring which stood at the centre of the amphitheatre, striking anyone speaking there was forbided by long and honoured tradition.

“And now I seek recompense for a new matter against your lands!” Ajaw Chuzzoxk visibly struggled against the rooms mind-wardings as his anger bubbled over. He stalked across the amphitheatre's floor menacingly with his tail thrashing in anticipation and his teeth bared.

The room was packed with delegates and representatives from across the Confederacy who watched the unfolding disaster with great interest. A low-level murmur of their conversations rumbled around the stone amphitheatre like a tropical storm as each of them positioned themselves for or against the motion that would inevitably be raised. Opinions changed like a swirling whirlpool amongst the onlookers as Chuzzoxk's anger strained the boundaries of tradition and the soothing mind magics that embraced the room.

“Honoured Ajaw. Revered Delegates. Let us adjourn for the night.” Interrupted Speaker Acuru who'd watched Chuzzoxk pace the luxurious mosaic floor far too long now. With a subtle gesture to Rinzu to proceed, he began to harness his powers. He leant forward heavily and focused his magics upon the Ajaw's mind, worming into cool the fiery temper the was clearly bubbling over.

A chorus of agreement rippled across the amphitheatre as hundreds of lizardfolk rose from the stone benches and shuffled into the humid night air, arguing and chattering as they departed. While the crowd dispersed, Chuzzoxk thudded towards the Speaker with fangs jutting from his snarling mouth. The distraction gave the messenger enough time to begin the most dignified sprint possible as he made a swift exit from the theatre and to a safer location.

“I wasn't finished.” Spittle dripped from Chuzzoxk's mouth as he spat out the words. Drawing himself up to his full height in challenge to the Speakers words he stood with eyes attempting to bore a whole into the Speakers resolve.

Speaker Acuru unwaveringly returned the Ajaw's stare without saying a word as the anger began to drain from the Ajaw. Rinzu's mind magic had taken hold and was guiding the Ajaw's mind towards a more controlled place. He deflated slightly and his posture relaxed, as he realised what was happening to him. With a flick of his tail he turned and stalked from the chamber out into the humid night.

Rinzu sagged once the irate Ajaw was out of sight and breathed heavily, Lizardfolk magic was draining on the individual who practised it.

“Go home Rinzu.” Speaker Acuru, resting his manicured claws upon his friend's blotchy scales.

“His emotions were out of alignment Speaker. I must check the wardings to ensure....”

“Go home Rinzu.” He repeated with a finality that couldn't be debated.

“Yes Lord Speaker.” Rinzu stood to leave and the receding sound of his feet slapping on the cobblestone steps faded away into the night. Acuru remained for a moment and stood in the Auditorium watching the last of the braziers hissed and spit their final breaths. The distant sound of the city faintly reached him, drowned out by the rumble of the looming monsoon that hung menacingly over Aokki.

---

Two celestial weeks ago, a small gang of Chuzzoxk's warriors had stalked into the town of Yacesk and kidnapped the sister of Ajaw Zatle. Small-scale honour skirmishes were common amongst the Khokos of the Confederacy as they established dominance amongst the towns and were used to compare relative strengths.

Five days afterwards, the combined might of all of Yacesk's war-Khokos gathered in a great host of warriors and stalked through the lands of Iqagus, capturing and stealing as they went. These sorts of actions were rare but not uncommon amongst the smaller tribes and Khoko of the Confederacy, but a whole Ixlaok mobilising for an honour war was a major and troubling event for the Confederacy.

Messages had buzzed through the Urzeri mind network speaking of gory sacrifices to the gods and raucous feasts held over three night in Yacesk. Chuzzoxk's attempt to gain more prestige amongst the Ajaw had backfired horribly and his villages were decimated by the warriors of Yacesk as a result, his villagers dragged into slavery or sacrificed to the gods. The normally choleric Ajaw had reached unheard-of heights to his already prestigious anger.

---

The New World, The Burnt Branch Confederacy
Aokki, The Palace Urzeri Room
The next morning

“He can breath as much fire as he wishes Lord Speaker, it will not change the fact that he stole my sister.” The words projected strangely from blank porcelain mask worn by the Urzeri acolyte. Magic-infused smoke lay heavily throughout the chamber deep under the Palace, it's sweet taste made it feel like the smoke was peeling and stretching back the veil of reality in the chamber. Echoes moved strangely across the stone walls and the furtherest parts of the chamber were so engulfed amongst the mist that you could be mistaken for believing you were in a swamp.

“He will retaliate and this will escalate further Ajaw Zatle.” Acuru spoke to the false-faced acolyte who stood before him knowing that his message and his features would be projected to a similar acolyte in far-off town of Yacesk.

“It will be from a weakened position and we both know that.”

“The other Ixlaoki will intervene if things go too far.”

“I will defend what is mine Lord Speaker, as Chuzzoxk failed to do.” The Ajaw's words were spoken with such surety.

“And so I will try to recover your sister to prevent this from getting worse.” Zatle's porcelain faux face reacted to the subtle insult. Chuzzoxk wasn't the only Ajaw who failed to protect what was theirs...

---

The New World, The Burnt Branch Confederacy
Yigzi, The Yutlao Tribe's Complex
23rd of Feburary, 4901

Bayan's orange eyes watched over a group of burly human slaves who were struggling to load the last of the junglewood onto their appointed wagon. His hawkish features double-checked his list to ensure that everything was ready to go. Six wagons had been loaded with the most exquisite items from across the tropical Burnt Branch Confederacy. Planks of vibrantly coloured junglewoods sat alongside blocks of jade the size of a dog, perfectly preserved jaguar pelts were piled next to cages holding parrots of dazzling colours, and vast quantities of bitter cocoa powder were preserved in beautifully decorated ceramic jars.

Each of the covered carts could easily buy hundreds of slaves or vast jungle estates deep in the Confederacy, but instead they had been gathered for what would hopefully be the first part of a long lasting trade relationship with the Miranid Empire. Word had been given by the Confederate Council to open negotiations on a positive and friendly note with its neighbours and Speaker Acuru had even sent his most trusted cousins to negotiate.

Once again Bayan smoothed his flowing robes nervously. Everything was so close to being ready for him to travel to his ancestral home. Though he was descended from the Fararual of the southern lands his family had moved away two generations ago. Would call him “Üarim” when he arrived and treat him as a brother when they see his olive skin or would they remember his family as the far-roaming huntsmen and women who left their lands for the Confederacy.

“Everything is ready Master Agorlu.” Bayan called up the steps as the junglewood thumped into place and was tied down. “We can leave now.” A solitary lizardfolk rose from his prayers at his families' shrine, sacrificial blood dripping from his hands. Human attendants moved to his side, cleaning the blood and gore from Agorlu Yutlao's claws as they reattached his travel cloak.

“Good work Bayan.” His reptilian voice hissed. Even without trying, Agorlu has a pronounced hiss to his voice that reminded people around him of a hissing snake.

“Have the gods bless our travels, Master?” The shrines priests busied themselves burning the remainder of the diplomats offerings to Srolzaxl, the smoke would rise to the place of the gods and they would; hopefully, be pleased.

“What the gods said is not your business, just remember to translate everything the Miranidian say, precisely as they say it.” Agorlu slung a travel bag into the wagon as he pulled himself up into the seat claws scratching along the wooden support. “If they insult us or are unpleasant then I would understand that as the translator your position forces you to relay these terrible words to me, but if you change their words or their meanings to please me....” The meaning was as clear to Bayan as the roasting sacrifice upon the alter was. He nodded humbly to his Master, making it clear he understood.

“Good.” Agorlu nodded back. “I have been told the journey is long. Let us pass the time by you telling me all you know of your cousins.” As the convoy began its winding journey towards the Miranid Empire, Bayan began to retell the stories his ancestors had told him of his people.

---

The New World, The Burnt Branch Confederacy
Aokki, The Speakers Chambers
Later that day

“Are you sure fur-foot. This is what the Eastern Empresses said?” Acuru lowered the paper transcript, which had been translated into Yutlao for him, as he looked over the fox-like features of the Amerean who stood before him.

“Yes Lord Speaker. She spoke to vast crowds to tell them this message, though she choose an old form of Amrean to speak in. It was written down and passed far and wide across here Empire.” The Amerean's travel clothes were covered in mud and jungle sap. He'd obviously travelled a great distance at speed to hand deliver this message.

“Discipline the barbarians, share their generous beneficence” Scoffed Speaker Acuru. “What is she up to?”

“Sritos hasn't provided more for you Lord Speaker. He doesn't with to speculate without more information.” The Amerean shuffled uncomfortably as he spoke.

“Well done fur-foot. See to it that you are well rested tonight.”

“Thank you Lord Speaker.”

“Before you return to Sritos' side.” Acuru turned to the messenger, extending his arm forwards he opened his clawed hand to show a piece of silk parchment covered in elegantly written Amrean script. “Translate this message for me. It arrived shortly before you did.”

The Amerean messenger reverently took the message and cleared his throat before reading it.

“From the Esteemed Gwangyeong Empress, Avatar of the Sun God, Defender of Civilization and Pacifier of the Barbarians, addressed to…”

Fibor Dynasty
Feburary
Grand Palace of the King - Courtyard
It was early morning on isle of Tiagrav which the capital city of Fibor Dynasty was located. The sun would rise up behind the Grand Palace causing the palace to cast a shadow over the city below. Long ago the largest hill in the area had top flattened to construct the Grand Palace atop it. The high vantage point allowed the Grand Palace to tower above even the tallest building in capital city. Normally just the guards would be standing attention outside the palace keeping the royal family safe but today was extra commotion. The process had begun for workers to clean soot and grim from marble of the Grand Palace. A peaceful busy morning except for sound of gunfire in the palace courtyard. King Inroc had gotten up early today to practice with his prototype rifle he had gotten a few years ago when crowned. It had only now started to be produced in any number with most going to royal guards and officers in the military. A servant was also in courtyard with the king as he was needed to operate a clay disc launching machine. The machine was a popular contraption among nobility.

A lot had been on the mind of King Inroc lately. Time seemed to go so fast as it was only a short three years ago when he was crowned king. His father having passed from poor health and as is tradition the youngest adult male haeir is crowned king. Long ago the idea was founded to increase stability as a younger king would have time to father many heirs. Though Inroc was still young as far as new kings went being still in early prime of his life at age of thirty two. He had a younger brother who was meant to be groomed for the role as heir but was still a child. This life as king was never what Inroc had wanted. His ideal life would of been as a soldier but that possible life was just a memory to him. The day his father unexpectadely passed from illness was still vivid in his mind like day it happened. Was a rainy day at officer academy where noble sons and promising soldiers would be sent to become officers. The graduating class Inroc was part of were having a wrestling tournament in the mud of academy courtyard to decide who was really top of the class. A sigh would escape the king as he fired and hit a clay disk. Those days not having to think about politics were truly great. In the middle of his fight with his academy rival was when royal guard came to escort him by train back to capital city. He never got to finish that fight with his Hog family rival in academy. Another disk would shatter shot by his rifle. Inroc would sit on a bench to reload his rifle while servant reloaded clay disk launching machine. It was at this moment when military advisor Bar came up to him. The military adivsor was one of many but Bar was by far the oldest at one hundred and fifty eight years old. He had been a close friend of previous king and had been educator of Inroc when he was a child.

Military Advisor Bar "King Inroc! You are needed urgently in the radio room. If you would please come to the radio room with me."
King Inroc "It is good to see Bar. I hope that it is something urgent? I was enjoying my free time practicing with a rifle. Have to keep all my skills sharp as you would tell me when younger. You could join me and we could make a game of it to see who hits the most targets."
Military Advisor Bar "I am sorry my King but this news is most urgent. Is important information I cannot disclose out in the open. Others are waiting for us inside. Perhaps after we could have a game."
King Inroc "Very well, I will be expecting a game later. Our last match had you win but I've put in more practice lately. Servant! I need you to clean my rifle while I am gone. Keep the machine loaded for my game against Bar later."

King Inroc would toss his gun to the servant who rushed over. Then with a sigh followed his military advisor inside. He had a feeling that they wouldn't get to play that game later. With the king gone now the servant would go to a table with small box on it. Opening the box would reveal that it contained a variety of tools for cleaning a gun. It was rare for king to let a servant do this task but the king was clearly in a hurry. The servant would work slowly unloading the rifle not wanting to even risk scratching a bullet.

Grand Palace of the King - Interior
While the exterior of palace was marble the interior was walls covered in plaster. The plaster had intricate designs and patterns painted on it while floor of particularly hallway was tiled. Various works of art would decorate the halls along with the latest in lighting. The previous king had ensured updating of palace to have lighting in form of light bulbs. A servant was even in process of changing a light bulb in a wall light when the king would pass following advisor.

King Inroc "I assume that the other advisors are all accounted for?"
Military Advisor Bar "All except for the elf. He was I believe away visting his family. However one of your brothers arrived at the palace today."
King Inroc "Did you send messengers to get the elf here? An I do hope it isn't Tiyel... he has always been a bit odd since his accident."
Military Advisor Bar "Your fastest runner has been dispatched and I am afraid to say it is Tiyel. But do not worry. I am sure he will only be in capital for week. His annual check up for his health."
King Inroc "Time sure flys by... I'll never understand why he stops here. Our mother lives in a estate outside city that isn't far away. Lead the way."

Up the stairs of one of palace spires was the radio room. It was a rather important room in the palace. The inside normally wasn't too crowded with four workers at most inside however at current time it was packed. All the advisors except for one sent to retrieve the king and the elf advisor were packed into the room. Was one figure who wasn't a advisor or working the radio and that was the eldest brother of the king who was named Tiyel Fibor. He was a imposing man with a badly scarred face from a accident. In his youth he had been inspecting a newly constructed factory when one of the machines suffered a catastrophic failure maiming him. It had been lucky Tiyel survived. The damage was absolutely catastrophic losing his leg, arm, and eye on left side of his body. Never would Tiyel be fit for a martial education so had poured his life into scholarly work. It was a rare occasion to see the first son of previous king go to palace as he spent most of his days in his own private estate. The only thing to get him out of his estate was annual check with doctors in the capital. The door would swing open with Inroc walking in first.

Tiyel "If it isn't my little Brother! You have to hear this, this news is spreading like wildfire over radios."
King Inroc "Please don't call me little brother. Is this news actually worth my time or was my time wasted coming here. I had finally managed to get some time to practice with my rifle."
Tiyel "Haha! You on the radio tell the king about whats been reported by our informants."
Radio Worker "Y-Yes! Uh... my king I have to inform you that word of instability in Yllendyr has been reported. Our spies have been doing best to try and catch anything that might just be- Oh! I have something coming in. Let me reroute it into the main speaker."

The room would grow quiet once the broadcast came in through the main speaker. Times were changing, after such a long status quo. It was no secret that the oldest officers in Fibor military were eager to rectify the embarrassing defeat of nation even if it was caused primarily by a hurricane that wiped out the navy all those years ago. The first one to break silence of Tiyel who burst out laughing so hard he dropped his cane.

King Inroc "What are you laughing about? This is serious! We are a vassal state."
Tiyel "That is what is funny! You see little brother... I mean king. You should see the bigger picture."
King Inroc "...I will retire to my quarters for now. Advisors prepare the great hall for a gathering and make sure to get everyone of importance. Even those that are away spending time with family. These discussions will require all of the various greater noble family heads. Tiyel you can return to your estate."
Tiyel "Oh no, I can't miss this, to see you use that education of yours. I can also offer my assistance."
King Inroc "...very ...well. I will be going now."

Red Castle Temple on Ember island
A gathering of the most powerful flame tenders had been issued. The castles red clerics who worked as servants were busy preparing things while those that acted as guards were on high alert. It had become clear in recent days that Grand Brazier Heroldess the Old was not long for this world. The body of Heroldess was so old that he had only been kept alive last few days by around the clock care from red cleric doctors. It was job of the flame tenders to choose a new grand brazier so the council had been gathered. Once the council had voted they would then have to wait for votes from flame tenders not in attendance. However were strange reports coming in of trouble on the southern continent. Those reports would need to be addressed by those gathered.

''Negh… Worthless. The last lines does not flow…''

In the dark temple of Axbak Aranagh, the Conqueror sits crossed legged before the altar of Axbak Kamen, writing, outpouring his soul on a piece of parchment held in his calloused hands, put against a hand-held wooden board.

An idol of the Luminescence’s daughter rests on the altar before him, though it failed to capture her beauty. Like a depiction of the sunset could never hope to truly integrate the glamour of the true sunset. Replicating such beauty is not in the fingers of the artist, only the Divine.
He takes up a blank slate of parchment, and sets it on the board to put into words his laments.



''No.. no.. Worthless, wretched.''

With a savage gash he scratches the last lines, then fumbles the paper altogether before casting it away. He tries again on a new piece of parchment.



Finished writing, he is scarcely content with it, yet perhaps the Divine Fire may appreciate it all the same. The Conqueror offers the writ up to the pyre upon the altar. The old fumbled parchment swiftly catches fire and in seconds is subsumed by flames. Smoke rises towards the ceiling dome of the sanctum, and the Conqueror knows that through such revered rituals, the writ has passed the boundaries of worlds into the otherworld, where his loved one is waiting.

‘’Fire of Fire, brighter than all flames. This I dedicate to Axbak Kamen and you.’’

He rises from the altar, about to leave the sanctum’s premise. When suddenly, a flicker appeared from the cinders remaining of his writ upon the altar. A flare. The Conqueror turned around, and his golden eyes widen in disbelief:
‘’Mulk Khamun.’’

The form of a woman appeared upon the altar, a blazing beacon more stunning than you could imagine, her long hair flowing radiantly about her head with the likeness of sun-beams. It is a display of such regal majesty that to behold it, takes the breath from the Conquerors lungs.

When their eyes meet she stretches out a hand to him, smiling warmly and with otherworldly grace. She wants to say something. Possessed and enraptured the Conqueror is not himself, and takes a small step towards her. He reaches out his battered hand to clasp hers.
And at the moment their fingers touch she flickers out. Like a lamp that had been abruptly turned off, she vanished. The Conqueror is perplexed, and the light leaves his eyes.

His knees fall upon the rigid stone tiles before the altar. He is truly alone.

---

''Amir Shaykh Gurkani…''

The Conqueror had only just left the sanctum when a voice calls from out the dark, with footsteps reverberating towards him.
‘’Forgive my intrusion, it is I; Hierophant An-Mara. Rekindled as your most humble, willing slave.’’
The Conqueror does not look him in the eye, staring stark at the murals on the walls with his arms placed stiff to his back.
‘’An omen, my Amir.

Late in the night, as the silver beam of moonlight shone unto the pond, I beheld therein three carps, two silver and one gold. The gold one had died, but drifted at the pond’s surface, with the two silver ones rapidly swimming circularly about it, as though keeping it afloat. Than.. a single droplet landed on top of the golden carp’s eye.’’

‘’Elaborate now, Hierophant.’’ The Conqueror speaks orotund.
‘’It is a sign from the Sun God. The Silver carp, truly it represents you, where the golden carp represents the late Luminescent. The Sun God at last acknowledges you as The One successor of Kamen’s Lineage, keeping his authority afloat on this mortal coil.’’
‘’Are you certain of this?’’
‘’I speak these words beyond the shadow of doubt, Amir Shaykh. The omens are right.’’
‘’And who, pray tell, is the other silver carp, if one of them is me?’’
The Hierophant lowers his head, and strokes his long grey beard.
‘’Time will tell, Conqueror.’’

---

Carnage. One of the gladiators impaled the other upon a spear, and the crowd went wild at the gratuitous burst of blood that erupted afterward, each of the fine droplets flung into the air a scintillating ruby in the sun. But then the one with a spear grew too caught up in his victory and was in turn skewered from behind by yet another one of the savages. Some of the spectators were enthralled by the gore and followed the fighters' every movement, but General Estroth merely watched with a lazy and impassive look as he decided upon which of them to hedge his money upon. Eventually he pointed to one especially savage pygmy. "A thousand dacha upon that one," he said to one of his officers. The two took simultaneous gulps of wine, and then Estroth's man answered, "Deal."

Bloodsports had fallen out of favor in the mainland, for slaves were a valued commodity and throwing them away in the arenas was seen as a barbaric waste. But here in Lemuria, it seemed as though there were always too many of the mongrels. For every pygmy that his soldiers shot or worked to death, another three vermin seemed to take its place. The pygmies were vile, lazy, treacherous little beasts that weren't even especially good at the sort of manual labor expected of slaves; they were only used in the mines and rubber plantations for their convenience and expendable nature. Talic Estroth had the lofty ambition of one day seeing the genocide to its end, but in the meantime he'd settle for reinstating pit fighting. Watching the wretches hack one another to pieces was sometimes entertaining.

---

When he left the arena later that day, a gunman was waiting outside. But the young dark elf was scared, and his trembling hands couldn't aim true. He fired one shot of his pistol and then ran, but a sudden impact struck his leg and brought him to the ground. A small grin formed upon Estroth's cruel visage as he held up a smoking pistol of his own.

"Closer," the general spat. The wounded would-be assassin was picked up and dragged forward by Estroth's bodyguards. The dark elf struggled for a few moments but then realized the futility; there were four soldiers dragging him forward and he could hardly even flail his limbs if he tried. "Sometimes, I still long for the days when I could go into battle myself. At least this gives me a taste of that excitement once again."

The bodyguards beat the dark elf back down down onto his knees but even then they didn't let go. They had of course torn the pistol free from his grasp, but even now they were wary of him suddenly procuring a knife. But true to the tales, the crazed general showed no fear. He put one hand under the traitor's head and lifted his chin up, forcing the terrified youth to look at him. The elf's eyes were drowned beneath a glossy layer of fear, but muddied into that was more than a little bit of hatred and defiance. Talic laughed a little bit at the sight, and at the spittle that followed.

"You're a disgrace! A fucking savage, no better than the na-"

A fist broke his jaw and knocked him onto the ground. Though a general's sword was meant to be a sign of his status, this one always enjoyed the times that he could put his blade to use. He drew it then, and the bodyguards released their holds and backed away. Estroth pressed the tip of the sword into the assassin's neck gently enough to just shed a tiny trickle of blood, but then he roared, "I'm fucking Talic Estroth! The Butcher of Derung! And you compare me to them? You think that you can kill me? Ha!"

He lifted up the sword and nearly brought it back down on the man's neck, but that would have been too...clean. Instead he buried the blade's edge into the wounded man's ribcage so deep that he could hardly wrench it back out after the fact, even leaning back and putting his boot upon the wretch's mangled chest. The thick layer of blood upon his boots would be covered by mud, but his sword needed cleaning, so he thrust it into the hands of one of his men. The assassin still lived, albeit choking on his own blood. "Should've aimed for the head."

He turned away from the dying man's spasms to face his second, a Colonel Zekel Mythec, and dryly ordered, "Have the traitor's family strung up and shot."

---

There were only a few people assembled around a grand war table. Estroth didn't keep an especially large staff; over the years he'd ensured that his inner circle consisted only of what few like-minded officers he could find, mixed with a few other sycophants whose desire to ingratiate themselves outweighed any pretensions of bureaucracy or of adhering to strict policy. The Emperor reigned supreme, above all, essentially an infallible god. But on Derung, it was only the General who spoke for Yllendyr. To keep with the analogy, he had what one could call a divine mandate; for his ruthless effectiveness the Imperium granted him a great deal of autonomy and leeway, and he didn't tolerate officers that entertained delusions of crossing him or questioning his methods.

"General, I've received reports from the second Auxiliary Legion. Captain Gruz reports a decisive victory over the Matamba tribes; several hundred pygmies were slain and the force was able to advance into their territory and raze three redoubts and villages. Unfortunately, they were evacuated before-"

Talic silenced the junior officer with a wave of his hand and threw the paper report to the side. "Decisive victory. Good, I've come to expect as much from Gruz. Now reign him back in before he overextends his forces and gets them all killed. Tell the mongrel orc that his orders are to withdraw and regroup with the First Auxiliary for their invasion of the Sundi region."

So he sifted through the rest of the day's missives. Reacting to reports of renewed pirate activity, he ordered yet another naval patrol to circle the island and attack any illegal ships. It seemed that no matter how many times he cleared the nest, more pirate vermin always arose; he blamed it on the navy's refusal to send more ironclads.

"And one more, General. A letter just came in; it's from the mainland. To be opened by you, it said."

Expecting nothing more than a trade manifest or perhaps the rare notice of garrison changes, he was thoroughly taken aback when he saw the unbroken seal and heard that it was for his eyes, and even more so when he read that Naerzo had fallen terminally ill and was expected to pass within the fortnight. The others saw the look on his face and became instantly anxious; many had never before seen anything but cruelty, anger, or irritation upon their commander's face. "Make preparations for me to return to the mainland; I want to be on a ship tomorrow," he suddenly declared.

"What? Have you been reassigned?" Zekel blurted.

The general scoffed at the mere suggestion. "No, I expect that I'll return soon enough. I imagine that I'll be attending a royal funeral, and then a coronation."

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 of the Sostratos bloodline, ma'am! Coming from the land of Ithaké, Fenician Republic. I am a shaman and qualified as a pathfinder. Graduated with high marks, at your service!" The tall man with four legs stood in attention. He was a centaur, although on the leaner side which made him more athletic than strong. His tanned skin and loose uniform suggested a person more comfortable outdoors. His goatee and fu manchu style mustache made him look borderline threatening. Such visage befitted the Yllendyr stereotype about centaurs as 'noble savages'. This person also admitted to be a shaman. Magic users generally earn preferential treatment in the Auxilia but shamanism is perhaps exception. Its indirect nature, questionable reliability and unchanged traditions make it borderline impossible to adapt for standard military use. 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.

Aslan doesn't make any effort to move himself hastly in the line of the squad, as ordered. He's one of the last to properly step in line, still puffing the remaining inch of his badly rolled tobacco. Since the time he ended up in this squad, he's been doing nothing much but procrastinating and lamenting his situation, calling the Empire 'a bunch of authoritarian fucks', of course, only in his head. He switches his gaze at the lietuenant dark elf, seemingly unimpressed. By the time she arrives to Aslan, he'd just prepared his speech as he threw down the cigarette under his boot quickly.

"HAIL YLLENDYR!" says Aslan, obviously with a smirk on his face as he mocks both the Empire and the military salute. Some other squad members briefly, but quietly, show signs of amusement.

"Private Aslan's my name. Don't bother learning it cause I ain't planning to stay much longer. I come from the Northern Range Mountains, Aurelia. Backstory? I grew up mining and then I...decided to become, how should I say, a mercenary? Hehe." continued Aslan, keeping the same dumb smile on his face.

Luna glances at his dossier, which states his criminal record of racketeering, intimidation, robbery, assault, public misbehaviour and indecency, and plenty more unknown to her. Clearly this guy was some kind of a joker. As if the squad needed another one.

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. 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.

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. He was tall, rigid and perfectly at military attention. He wore medals of military service already, a jacket covering only one arm embroiled with gold and a large black furred hat with feathers sticking out above it. His face... was one of clear annoyance, maybe even disgust. It was obvious that he probably was not supposed to be here. He looked to his side to the next member in the lineup, as if to get permission, then turned back. Luna noticed the obvious relationship here., and noted not to try to disturb it.

'Lance Corporal Artyem of Guineyveadr of the Vaurgemyrean Winged Hussars, reporting for duty, Lieutenant. I am an Air-knight of the 3rd Air Regiment, and am here as a vassal and retainer of the Lady Guineyvea... I do hope that you will respect the intentions of our superiors and understand the... 'special' circumstances this assignment has led to.' The stern man said coldly, looking with contempt at the rest of the gathered soldiers, particularly the humans.

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 lady 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.

Trans-Aurelian Railway, en route to Aurelia, February 4901....

Caleb snaps back to reality, waking up from his sleep. He looks around only to spot the source of the noise that woke him up. It was Joky, the other man sitting next to him who was resting his back on the timber, playing the guitar and using his wonderful voice. Joky was a vagrant, whom Caleb met just yesterday when he got on the train. Apparently, the locomotive conductors allow a limited amount of vagrants to ride the train in exchange of some bribery. Even though they met just yesterday, Caleb felt that Joky as his only friend in the world in these circumstances, after all it was due to him that Caleb didn't starve to death, for Joky had some spare food, so it didn't matter that the guy was reeking of booze and smiled with his only three teeths in his mouth.
Without intrerruption, Joky sang his song until the final chord, then he placed his trusty guitar next to him, nodding as Caleb applauded...
"You still haven't told me why you're heading for the capital." said Joky, staring quietly at Caleb.
"Heading to find..uh..work, you know?" replied Caleb, knowing full well he just told a lie.
Joky didn't want to insist no further, and decided to just change the subject. They kept the dialogue up until they reached Aurelia, finally. Caleb could not peek through the metal door properly, the only light in the wagon came through the small openings between the door and the structure of the wagon itself, which meant that he couldn't see the grandeur of the city as he approached it. Eventually, the train stopped and the conductor came while pushing a big trash bin with him. He had Joky and Caleb fall down into the trash bin so they could be hidden from view, and delivered the trash bin in the back alley of the industrial trainstation.

After getting out of the trash bin, Caleb and Joky shook hands and departed, each heading towards his own destiny. Only after stepping out of the narrow industrial alley could Caleb see the splendour and grandeur of Aurelia in it's entireness, as the city's landscape rising from the mountain's valley plunges the rays of the sun.



It was an entire new world for him. Sure, he's been to cities before, but not the capital itself. None of the other cities had a much bigger population and a more impressive imperial presence inside. Aurelia had a composition the same of any other aurelian city, with dark elves concentrated mostly in wealthy neighbourhoods and around the better parts of the city, but Caleb wasn't going to see any of them for he was on his way towards the city's docks, as requested by his father; he had to meet that mysterious man his father told him about, Maverick.



The day was wonderful, the sun's shine touched gently the various metal structures surrounding the mountains as the children were playing around with a ball, shopkeepers keeping up with the busy streets and the newspaper boys running around shouting. Caleb stops one of the boys and puts a coin in his hand, taking the newspaper afterwards in order to catch up with the world. He proceeds to unfold it and take a glance around the front page....



"15th of February already!?" said Caleb to himself, obviously shocked. Time sure flies when you are on the run from town guards and survive a forrest in the middle of the winter season, good thing he took that train when he could, must've certainly lowered the duration of the whole journey to the capital. The newspaper was full of gritty news, not only from across the Empire, but all across Aurelia. Caleb was shocked to see that civil unrest had begun more than a week ago. It seemed that just yesterday the Emperor died and he was just fishing on the shores of his village. Perhaps the biggest surprise to him was that the people did not rise up against the imperial administration after the massacre of the protestors. Blood was boiling inside Caleb. At that moment in time, he found himself enraged beyond his normal limits. There's no doubt that Caleb wasn't the only one feeling the same about the Empire, about the dark elves. Indeed, hate has been building inside most human subjects in Aurelia, as unrest was reported everywhere across the province. The Securitariat was working tirelessly day and night to counter the unrest, many ending up missing or dead in the night. Human rights advocates were imprisoned and the riot police deployed across the province, only serving to cement the hatred of the whole population. The imperial administration intensified airship patrols around the accesible and main paths of the Northern Range Mountains, and nationwide manhunts were carried for high targets of the resistance. This whole situation put a dire strain on the human and dwarven population, neighbours turned enemies on one another, loyalists snitching fellow humans just for a mere suspection, many were never to return to their loved ones; families disbanded or forced into hiding by the authorities and a censorship on non-imperial affiliated media outlets and businesses. Each day, in many cities, towns and villages, you could find public executions of 'treasonous rebels' by hanging. Indeed, the situation was becoming increasingly dire.
After he was done reading, Caleb went to search around the area for the 'Gilweed Tavern', just as instructed by his father. Stalking around the streets, he managed to find the tavern in no time, especially since the owner had the pleasant idea of placing radio loudspeakers at the entrance, attracting clients with the help of music.
After entering the tavern, Caleb went straight to the bar, where he the barman for a man named 'Maverick'. The barman just pointed towards one of the wooden windows, where a man in ragged and tattered clothes was staying at a nearby table with a half-empty glass infront of him, a badly sewed hood covering his head. Caleb went to greet the stranger...
Caleb did not even get to say "Hello...uh...Maverick? I'm here to deli-" before the guy gestured him to shut up and take a seat. Taking a closer look at the mysterious man, you could see his cheeks and jaw, devoid of any hair whatsoever. He had warm blue eyes, the only sign that could give away a hint of his old age specific wiseness.
"I need you to be quiet, son. I don't like loudness. Who are you?" said Maverick, seemingly surprised.
"I'm Caleb, son of Hallam. My father entrusted me with delivering you some sort of document. I don't exactly know what it is, for I did not open it. He said it is of most importance."
The only thing Maverick could say was "By Ayleis, you've grown up. You were just a little over 6 years last time I saw your father."
As Caleb opens his satchel in order to grab the document in order to give it to Maverick, he said "How'd you meet my father?"
Maverick smiles at the words spoken by the young man, seemingly venturing himself back in time with memory, his eyes narrowing "I met him almost 50 years ago. We were both assigned the same room on the ship 'Emperor Nerzo', one of the first and finest ironclad class ships of the Empire at that time. He was the first fellow cadet I met."
"My father was in the imperial navy? He never told us about that! He was a farmer all his life." replied Caleb, obviously surprised.
Maverick opens his dirty leather wallet and places an old photo infront of Caleb...



"Do you recognise your old man on the left? I'm the one on the right. We were only 20 years when this photo was taken....it brings back so many memories..." said Maverick, contemplating back to earlier, happier times.
Caleb looked in awe at his younger father...but he couldn't help but notice the pointy elf years of Maverick. "You're an elf?" replied Caleb, changing his facial expression from curiosity to annoyance.
"I prefer the term 'half-breed'...I know what you're thinking. My mother was human, my father was a wood elf. I know you folks don't like elves too much, I've dealt with all my life. What saved me was the fact that I had human blood, and that I was not a dark elf." said Maverick in defense.
Caleb calmed himself afterwards, allowing Maverick to resume his dialogue "We've spent a good ten years in the navy. Of course, we weren't promoted to officers or higher ups because of our bloodline, but we were respected, at least among the crew. We had some good runs. We were among the ones who fought the pirates in their golden age."
"I wish father would've told us about that....now that I think about it, I hardly know him." replied Caleb, in a melancholic voice.
"He was the best seaman I knew...and a good friend." said Maverick, before snapping back to reality. "We must get out of here, I have a safehouse a few districts from here, we're going to have to walk a while. Once we get somewhere safe, I'll explaing everything to you."
The two got up and left.

Early Morning, February 3rd, 4901 YDC
Bayerich, Kingdom of Velendaal

---

King Iestyn III pursed his lips as he stared into the depths of the porridge in his bowl. His mind had been racing since an attendant had whispered the news in his ear. He was short an uncle and two cousins, and two more wanted nothing more than to tear at each other’s throats. That was a fact of life he’d known ever since they were children. He remembered when Ecruir tore pages out of Olarth’s books. Or when Olarth threw Ecruir’s lead soldiers into the lake. It was a cycle that had never broken. Only now, the stakes were higher than fairy tales and toys.

“Dear, your breakfast will get cold,” a voice sang. Iestyn blinked, looked up and found the gentle face of his queen. He smiled back weakly and toyed with his spoon.

“My breakfast is the least of my worries, Ilsye,” he said.

“I’m sorry, I know. Emperor Naerzo was always good to you.”

“He was a good man, and a good emperor. Now he’s gone and so is the only cousin I ever got along with. Vomlur might have been his father’s equal.”

Vomlur had been more like an older brother than a cousin. While the younger siblings either fought or hid themselves away in their rooms, Vomlur rode horses and spent time with Iestyn. Groomed from birth as the inheritor of the greatest empire known to history, Vomlur was schooled by the most esteemed professors in history, warfare, sciences and language. He’d pass on what he learned to an enthralled, young Iestyn. The twins were always absorbed in their own fantasies. What use did they have for such academics? After all, everyone always considered it a given Vomlur would ascend the throne. Last night had put that assumption to rest.

“It’s only a matter of time before either Olarth or Ecruir ask for my help,” Iestyn continued. “Who would you chose?”

Ilsye folded her hands and grinned. “Neither.” When Iestyn cocked his eyebrow, she added, “You are my king and my husband.”

“But if you were in my position?”

Ilsye leaned close, running her foot up Iestyn’s leg beneath the table.“I am for Velendaal. And you are Velendaal’s king,” she cooed. “Olarth, Ecruir, they can’t hope to be the man Naerzo was.” Iestyn squirmed in his seat as he felt Ilsye push her sole into his groin. Their gazes locked, breakfast all but forgotten.

“Yllendyr needs a strong emperor,” Ilsye said. “Someone like Vomlur, yes. But I’d prefer someone like you.” She fixed him with a devilish grin.

Iestyn threw his napkin off his lap and was across the table in seconds. He pulled Ilsye close and in her ear whispered, “I think I’ve found my appetite after all."



February 6th, 4901 YDC
Bayerich, Kingdom of Velendaal

---

Iestyn perched himself on the windowsill overlooking the courtyard. He was in a private room of the palace, joined by just a handful of close confidants. Among them was his brother Prince Chaylen, field marshal of the army.

“Ecruir has requested Velendaalen soldiers to keep the Shogunate in line,” Chaylen said. “Place has become unstable, with the Shogun dead.”

“Least we can do is make sure his replacement doesn’t get assassinated too,” Iestyn said. He took a sip from his wine glass and turned from the window. “Ecruir shall have what he asks for.”

Iestyn’s lifelong friend, Lord Adoln was next to speak. “But what about your sights on-”

“Ecruir needs to be assured we stand with him,” Iestyn interrupted. “So long as Velendaal fulfills its obligations to the throne, he will be satisfied, and we have breathing room.”

Chaylen nodded. “We must guard our hand until the cards are in our favor. We side with Ecruir, who wields the true power in Yllendyr. Once Olarth is no more, there will be only one brother to deal with.”

“The only thing that concerns me is the Sentinels,” Adoln said with a shrug. “If Olarth is defeated and Ecruir is crowned, they’ll pledge their loyalty to him.”

“I’m sure I can reason with my uncle,” Iestyn replied. “He’s a prince of Velendaal.”

“Maybe, but I agree with Adoln,” Chaylen said. “The Sentinels are a sleeping giant. Ecruir must not be coronated before we’re ready.”

The men shared knowing looks behind their wine glasses. The Imperial Order of Sentinels had declared neutrality until an emperor was crowned. While the auxilia were the Imperium's hammer, the Sentinels were its scalpel. It was an elite, entirely elven military and more than a match for the contemporary armies of the day. If it pledged loyalty to either claimant, things would get much, much harder.

After a moment, Iestyn slid off the windowsill, looked each man in the eye and raised his glass.

“A toast. To Velendaal and the Imperium.”

“To Velendaal and the Imperium,” they said in unison.