---

---

A banner flutters ominously in the distance. The wind brings whispers of the Dragon of the west's expansion into these new regions. Their imperial ambition brings them far from their homeland. The invaders led by a man of great renown in the western world. A legion of the Empire's best - Ikagai's finest men. On their backs are the expectations of their homeland and on their shoulders the weight of honor and tradition. They look out from their gains in the south western reaches of these isles, the salt in the air and the spray of water crust their beards, rust their armor, but they are diligent and hard working enough to clean their equipment.

Five years this expedition has taken from them. First the Empire tasked them with establishing a colony, Sasaku. They faced many challenges, some of which from other imperialists, some from the native populace. The Empire is eager, the dragon is hungry. Though they achieved their first goal and were able to live peaceable lives for a short time, these times of peace were not to last.

The Great Empire of Ikagai has tasked them to take the entire isle even if it takes them years to do so. The colony from five years past has begun to flourish. The natives of this land are wild and resisting, the rivals from other empires have come far and wide to challenge their expansion into these rich territories. The dominion of the dragon shall sink its claws deep into these remote territories. The next expedition will begin within a few months from now. Their bodies are hardened, their uniforms crisp, their swords and bayonets are sharpened, and their rifles clean and ready.

War on the mainlands may draw the men of Ikagai to fight against their rivals on the islands once more. They will face terrible hardships. Battles of immense proportions are inevitable and will threaten to plunge the isles into fire. The beats of drums will match with the rhythmic stomp of marching men across mountains, hills, and plains. The crackle of gunfire and clashing of steel will once again fill the air. The ground will be soaked and with the blood of the dead.

Who will be the victor? Who will take these isles? Who will achieve their imperial ambition?

In the City of New Landinburg, Within the Halls of the Landinstag...

---

---

The final autumn session of the Landinstag was in order at last! The heads of houses, nobles and elected officials from all across the twin realms of the Dual Monarchy were assembled in New Landinburg, officiating the final matters of state before the Fall recess. An unusually humid morning, paired with the regional warmth had forced the assemblage to leave the windows open. Calls of the seabirds and the bustle of midday business filtered through as dozens of servants wove between the highborn officials, carrying platters of chilled beverages. Lounging upon his padded throne the High King of Conquerdia, Franz Hansvaul idly sipped his drink, only half listening as the hundred odd members of the Landinstag heard the concluding arguments and cast their final votes. Two weeks of proposals and debates, and finally his quarterly suffering was at an end. The Landinstag would present the Kings and Duchess with the committee’s decisions, charging them to carry out the peoples’ will. Franz lost interest in the Mayor of the House and let his gaze travel down, to where is counterparts sat, just slightly beneath his own throne. On his left, was Marietta Hansvaul, of Parlov. The Duchess sat ramrod straight, papers and notes littering the table in front of her as she took notes, listening intently to the final speeches of the lords. Marietta was nearly twenty years his senior grey haired and wrinkle lined, and yet as capable of a woman as ever, whom all respected. Not just on religious principle either considering she was the head of the Dual Monarchy’s official faith. She was disciplined, attentive, and engaged, the polar opposite to the monarch that sat on Franz’s right. There, reclining on the wooden Vinlac throne resided Franz’s great-nephew Aleksy Hansvaul, the crown prince of Vinlac, and a boy of eight, who was busy picking his nose and looking bored out of his mind.

Franz could hardly blame the child, these were the last days of warmth, and perfect swimming and romping conditions before the dramatic seasonal shift that sent the mild tropical climate of the northern isles into a short yet bitter winter. A child should not be attending the Landinstag at all, but circumstances demanded. King Varanski of Vinlac had been declared unfit to travel, his sickness forcing him to remain in Virlanca. Tradition demanded the Landinstag have a monarch for which to entrust the will of the people, and thus Varanski’s son. It had been thought that little Alesky might learn something about matters of state from the assemblage, but all it seemed to be teaching him was how to dig out his own brains in front of some of the most important persons in the Dual Kingdoms.

Reaching across Franz subtly thumped the young prince on the ear, jolting the boy from his meandering thoughts. “Sit straight, and listen well.” He murmured beneath the general chatter. “The Lord Mayor Callhanmark presents the proposal for the renegotiation of the Eurokin treaty. Which concerns your Kingdom greatly.” Deciding to heed his own advice Franz rolled back his shoulders, refocusing his attention upon the Mayor of the House, Lord Callhanmark, who was addressing the Landinstag.

“-Left our diplomates without a question in their minds. The savages have insinuated that more is required to the goal of shoring up and preserving our mutually beneficial relationship. It has been contended that the Eurokin remaining loyal is of high priority. This can only be accomplished by an increase in annual tribute from the Vinlac crown. The amount has been determined at five thousand additional bushels, and seven hundred heads of cattle. Alongside twenty thousand golden marks.” There was quite a bit of grumbling at this, especially from the Vinlac lords who knew they would be shouldering the majority of this burden. Even so, they were aware it was a small price to pay to keep the savages up in their snowy mountains, and away from the fields and mines that served as the lifeblood of Vinlac. “The funding and presentation of the increased tribute shall fall upon the Vinlac Crown. Unless there is anything additional to be added or said, we shall finalize the decision. All in favor?”

Before a chorus of ayes could be sounded, a grey-haired lord of Vinlac jumped to his feet, an apprehensive air about him. “I would speak my lord.”

“You have the floor sir.” Callhanmark seceded taking his seat.

The lord glanced once down at a collection of complex numerical figures upon his notes before speaking, his voice resolute and unwavering despite his grim words. “I have reviewed the finances of the Crown of Vinlac, my aides arrived in the early hours of this morning bearing the official reports of the royal census. The good King, Varanski himself, along with many subjects have suffered from a foul plague which has swept across Vinlac leaving many of the peasantry and lords alike stricken and or dead. The crops have been poor, and numerous floods and fires have wasted golden marks by the hundreds of thousands, in lives and structural costs. Furthermore, this noble assemblage has determined that Vinlac reinforce and update critical border infrastructure and fortifications, and gather an additional thirty thousand active troops to the royal army.” The lord stalled, taking a deep breath before continuing. “If my reviews are accurate, and they are, the Vinlac treasury is already empty, and the Crown is enormously indebted. Should this additional weight be added, the Crown may be forced to default.”

A hush fell over the assembly, it seemed impossible. Within the islands the Dual Monarchy had a reputation of financial excellence, a worthy investment for prospecting capitalists hoping to establish manarite mines in the resource rich mountains. It was no secret that the Vinlac economy had been lagging behind its counterparts, but it had always managed to fumble along well enough receive continued investment.

“This is an outrage. There should be an inquiry by the Landinstag!” Someone shouted at last. “To determine if the King of Vinlac has mishandled the matters of economics. Royal incompetence!” A roar of ayes and hisses rose from the crowd, even the aides and servers joining in. To Franz’s right Alesky stiffened in his chair, suddenly fully alert, his eyes searching for the man who dared dishonor his father. Franz himself was furious, struggling to keep his temper under control. Generally the affairs of Vinlac were left to the Vinnish king, but to reach the point of default and to have a lord forced to bring it forward was outrageous. An egregious breach of trust, and from his own nephew. Varanski would have much to answer for, but not in this way. Matters of the royal family were his business. Rising to his feet Franz clapped his hands together, his rumbling bass tones bringing the arguments to an abrupt end.

“SILENCE! The High King SPEAKS!” The Landinstag Hall fell into quiet, and Franz Hansvaul waited until not a whisper of dissent nor squeak of chair remained. “There shall be no inquiry by the Landinstag. The royal authority shall see to this internally. All present hear my decree of adjustment. To the matter of Vinlac security, the Kingdom of Conquerdia shall take on the burden of expense, to both the southern border and the Eurokin tribute for this year. Furthermore any additional financial increases for the Kingdom of Vinlac shall be placed upon the Crown of Conquerdia.” A few Conquerdian lords shouted in disapproval, but Franz’s fierce gaze brought them back to silence. “No more shall be said on this, no word of this particular subject shall leave this Hall under penalty of punishment. Lord Mayor Callhanmark, you may continue.”

“Thank you sire.” The Lord Mayor’s tone was frosty, and Franz knew there would be hell to pay for making such a decree. It was in his power to adjust the Landinstag’s decisions, but it was a tentative one, to be used sparingly lest it be taken from him. The Monarchy’s control was fragile, wobbling in an uneasy balance, and if he stepped on too many toes what little executive authority the crown had left would be stripped in a heartbeat and chaos and war would follow. An unfavorable result indeed. Once the general votes and speeches continued Franz leaned over on his throne, speaking out of the side of his mouth to Duchess Marietta.

“Join me tonight, in the Besaih Tower for supper. I require your assistance in drafting a letter to my nephew.”

The Duchess’s face was grim. “Yes, I think you are right. It is fortunate he was not here, or there might have been trouble. The Landinstag would have demanded he answer for this.”

“Fortune, or cowardice?” Franz growled, his eyes flashing. “I suspect the latter.”

“The plague in Vinlac is real enough.” Marietta counseled diplomatically. “I have never known Varanski to be a coward, he has led many a military victory, and demonstrated tremendous valor. Sometimes the matter of economics are outside the control of even the greatest monarchs, Vinlac has suffered greatly in recent years.”

“Possibly, but courage on the battlefield, and courage in the Halls of the Landinstag are distinct.” Franz argued, but the calm words of the Duchess cooled his flaring temper and brought reason to his mind. His letter need not be so harsh perhaps.

“What of the prince? Should we excuse him from the assembly to avoid…” Marietta asked, inclining her head towards the boy, who was still glaring down at the lords and officials.

Franz glanced towards his great-nephew and shook his head. “I doubt he was aware of Vinlac’s current economic state, and I imagine Lord Callhanmark thinks so as well. As long as he keeps his mouth shut until the end of the session there should be no trouble. The Landinstag will have other matters to distract them, rather than interrogating a child. I can take him down to the shore with my children tonight. An evening in the water and sand should rid him of this memory altogether and avoid any uncomfortable exchanges.”

“Wise,” Marietta murmured, her gaze darkened by worry. “The House of Hansvaul needs no further humiliations this day.”

---

---

"And I -- for one -- find these practices of our institution, so repugnant in their antiquity, not only an affront to the image of our dear nation! But to democracy itself!"

An uproar filled the alleys and halls of the Parliament building as the representative made his address. Every claim brought forward sent the whole room into a frenzy, with representatives, chiefs, senators, and governors throwing accusing hands and inflammatory gestures while the debate proceeded.

The issue of the week, as the Parliament had been processing tirelessly for the past four days, had caused such a turmoil in the national circuits that its subject matter was at the forefront of near every conversation. It could hardly escape news headlines, nor dodge the subject at dinner tables, where they caused rancor in such frequency that it was said every dinner fight in Bessaruga was mere continuation of the day's debates in Parliament.

"And you would have us overturn our institutions' practices all because of some tavern-floor rumor?" Pockets of representatives rose in applause as he made his repute, a roaring ovation to match his confidence. The senator in question, now standing proudly against this daring assault to dignity and poise, was a Vasiri man, just entering middle-age from the crestled wrinkles that hugged his facial scales, giving him just an appropriate amount of pudge to his wide-jawed physiognomy to match his stocky frame. His chipped horns -- now clearly filled with puddy and ivory fillings -- were carefully polished and refined so they gleamed so poignantly to the slightest refraction. Parliament knew him as a proud conservative, a champion of the times, not some dilettante careerist looking for a simple way to fame and fortune -- he was a Golden Boy, and around their gilded icon did all the Right of the room throw their lot around.

"And would you, Mr. Godin, state that we aspire by a system of legalized immunity?" his opponent accused.

"Yours -- senator -- are suggesting that our nation should implement legislation from hearsay alone!"

"It is all because of this blasted immunity that this remains 'hearsay'! You would keep and preserve the Parliament's immunity to prosecution safe to harbor the guilty among us!"

"Nonsense!" Senator Godin barked, "This is about principles! And I, for one, will not have us stand idly by while you would have us subject the good men and women of this great nation's Parliament to a witch-hunt!"

"But you know it, Mister Godin -- you know it! You know as well as me, as you, as all of us! I remember the headlines -- you could scarcely breathe without a public uproar over it! The people deserve our faith, and I -- so ordained by God to serve Bessaruga as her representative -- will give them faith and accountability!" The scene about him roared in another applause, an opposite half the room cheering on the senator while he pleaded his case. His face beat a shining red as he gasped from air, the intensity of his speech painting his face like a beat. Senator De Rocha's gaunt, specked face profusely sweat, a radiance gleaming from him that's almost religious in intensity. He doesn't even take the time to wipe his face, only barely catching his breath before the human continues his onslaught.

"'Emblezzlement! Scandal! Senator Purchases New Summer Home After Tax Reform Deadline Missed!' Those are the headlines -- those we all saw! And we know! We KNOW, Mister Godin! We were there! All there! We know it's gone, and lined and filled his pockets with the pennies and pounds of the people! And he lapped it up -- oh yes, he lapped it all up! You know it, and all of us here know it -- the corruption present in this room is something even the demagogues in Fenice would shudder at...!"

"That's it! This slanderous scandal ends now! You've crossed the line, De Rocha!"

And then all Hell broke loose.

Representatives rose one by one, pouncing from each their chairs into the frenzy. For every one to leap headfirst into the fray, hands and arms, claws and nails into the melee rose two more to their sides, each intuitively pinning one of their arms or legs as they rose from the melee. Some threw in their lot, dragging their sorry opposition into the ruckus with a sorry senator trailing behind, dragging their feet as they shouted terrified implores to cease the rhubarb. Senators Godin and De Roxa stood hairs-widths from one another, barking like hounds in fanatical arrays of colorful, four-letter symphonies with such frequency that the two could virtually swear the paint off of the walls. Each of them were restrained, just barely, by three or four other representatives, themselves taking beatings from assorted representatives who had their own retainers -- themselves receiving thrashings in turn, and so on, endlessly, until the entire Parliament floor was dissolved into a formless riot while the Orderly and the President watched from their podiums.

Business as usual in Parliament.

"Order! Order! Order in the room!" The rapport of the gavel rang across the floor, each knock matching just in time with the Orderly's announcements. Little by little, bang by bang, the room unhanded one another and broke their brawls, breaking contact with one another in matching stares and scowls. The room returned to their seats, each looking a bit worse for wear, casting exhausted glances back at one another as the session continued.

President Lacerda, a young-looking High Elf -- insofar that any elf of reasonable age could be described as anything but -- sat comfortably in his specially-tailored reclining chair upon the back of the Presidential podium. He had six of them -- three for his office, one here, and two at his home -- and in these comfortable leather-bound chairs did his long, straight blonde hair rest itself behind its headrest, drooping along its back with his arms crossed behind his head. Lacerda, in natural High Elven demeanor, had always appeared rather pleased with himself irrespective of the occasion, and accompanied by his bright emerald eyes did he gaze over the floor of Parliament, amused at the sight before him. Parliament brawls never seemed to get old -- though secretly as he did recline deeper into his seat did he reminisce unto his mere times as but a humble senator, and although he captained this ship of Bessaruga's fate, he did find himself missing the time when he was but a humble cabin boy.

"If there cannot be an effective verdict delivered today," The Orderly announced with a sigh, "then I will have to call for an adjournment on the topic for today's session." Some among the senators, Roxa's supporters in particular, groaned and mumbled with the announcement, but soon gave way to a universal agreement as heads nodded and pages flipped. The issue of members of Parliament granted immunity to prosecution would have to wait, much to some's chagrin, but if there was nothing to be done, then all the same.

"Onto our next point of discussion: Ms. Madregal would like to present a case to Parliament."

Rising and standing forth, very cautiously after the display that ruptured the whole Parliament into a brawl. The older woman was some sort of human-offshoot, adorning a rather pinkish complexion to her and matched with a silver hair color and spotted with a single beauty mark just below the right side of her lip. Madregal resided as the Chief of Department of Finance, and spent much of her waking day in near-constant arguments with the Department of Commerce and the Department of Internal Affairs. Much of her duties were adjourned to her professionalism -- to have her present a subject of her work before Parliament for their opinion was, to put it lightly, ill-boding news.

"As some here may know," she began, posing up her glasses -- which she found slightly ajar after the most recent rumble, "there have been a series of recent reports from various joint-stock corporations operating in Conquerdia concerning joint-stock venture securities. As reports here: 'the 28th, last month: Missed royalties.', 'the 25th, last month: Asset depreciation, missed royalties.', 'the 14th, this month: Joint-stock deflation, depreciation, missed royalties.'. All reported by banks and investment firms within the last fiscal month tied to ventures with operations on Conquerdia -- all with direct ties to subsidiary payments on behalf of the Government of the Dual Monarchy."

"Damn royalists." The president remarked, fuming while he rubbed his chin. "Crownies could be holding out on us."

"That seems unlikely." The Chief of Finance refuted, "The fact that there have been some localized outbreaks of disease in Conquerdia as of late has, without a doubt, strained their economy. This all could very well simply be natural market contraction. Even so, Conquerdia has been a reliable trading partner in times past -- I doubt that they would have anything to gain from defaulting."

"Even so, we must safeguard our investors." The room hummed in agreement. One senator stood up.

"If that's the case, why bring this before Parliament?" the senator inquired.

"Representatives on behalf of Conquerdia have yet to release any statement on their assortments of missed payments. It is unlike them to suddenly retract like this to their investors: It could be possible that they are hoping to staunch a potential recession by withholding such information. If so, we will need to launch an official inquiry before we are to make our next move."

"I am not convinced." interjected Senator Godin, "People need to learn lessons in life -- Conquerdia needs to pay their debts." A small round of applause followed his exclamation. The President rose his hand in turn, followed by a small sigh from Madregal. She adjusted her glasses, packing up her documents and setting them unto the table.

"If this should be the current case for the movement, I shall dispatch and issue a discrete telegramme to the Dual Monarchy in regards to these investments." The room agreed in turn, and her case was in turn waved away by a resounding vote of confidence.

"Right then. Onto our next topic...-"

---

East of the Neketalan Peninsula, roughly One Hundred miles from the Coast.

---

---

These were no seas for inexperienced sailors nor captains faint of heart. The heaving waves smashed against the new age steamer’s steel-clad hull testing her riveted frame to its limit. Manarite driven engines churned the great gear wheels working the propellers that drove the vessel forward at unnatural speeds faster than even the most maneuverable coal powered frigate. Like a great seabird, soaring across open skies she raced upon the water, leaving a foamy grey-black trail in her wake. The cruiser Komet presented an impressive sight of new technology and she cut across the violent waters of the off the southern peninsula of the hated Neketalan colony in an open defiance of territorial waters. The Royal Captains of the Conquerdia navy were growing bolder by the day, and Lord Captain Geoff Numernorf was no exception. With the mighty Komet under his experienced hand he had once again dared the mighty Neketalan navy, sweeping into disputed waters and nearly collied with a ponderous cargo hauler. An impact that would have greatly favored the steel hulled warship had the victim not tacked hard to port, nearly capsizing and losing a great deal of her valuables overboard into the depths. A few Neketalans might have gone over as well, and Numernorf smirked in sadistic pleasure at the thought of them being dragged beneath the surface by their waterlogged tails, never to be seen again.

The human officer allowed himself and quick glance over his shoulder, his eyes catching no sign of pursuit through the water drenched panes. Not that it would have done the abominations any good he thought. The sun might be their ally, but the winds were at his back, and his god would never abandon him. A terrible wave rose ahead, catching the cruiser roughly midships, knocking her off course. Numernorf barked an order and the helmsman was quick to adjust the wheel, bringing the Komet back on course, North, by Northeast towards Conquerdian controlled seas. Although unofficially sanctioned by the Duel Monarchy a lone ship on a raid through rival waters could expect little aid south of the river Laun. Caught out here in open waters after aggressive action would mean certain death or worse, most likely sacrificed to the sun. A fate Numernorf and the two hundred sailors under his command did not wish to experience.

“Ship away, northwest, ten miles and closing!” The lookout’s warning came, barely audible over the ocean’s rage. A fresh energy came across the crew, they did not know how, but a ship had appeared ahead of them, traveling perpendicular to their course as if to cut them off. Whether by design or pure luck they had been caught red handed. A moment of panic swelled within Numernorf, but he shoved it away as foolish cowardice, the battle-song swelled in his heart. “No sign of a standard," the lookout continued his report, "but she looks to be a heavy cruiser, with cannon aplenty.”

“General quarters, ready at the guns!” Numernorf ordered, not that the six-inch double barreled turrets would do them much good. They had no chance of scoring an accurate broadside in these conditions. At least, the low decked cruiser would prove an even tougher target for the enemy gunnery crews. For the moment the Conquerdian ship would be unidentifiable, flying no standard or markings that would betray their “unofficial” trespass, but it would not be difficult for the Neketalans (if that was who sailed the approaching ship) to summarize what was happening. After all, similar events had been occurring all throughout the summer as tensions continued to ramp up along the border. “Ahoy lookout, have they spotted us yet?” One of the tremendous advantages of his modernized manarite driven pistons was its lack of smokestacks. Without the clouds of billowing black smoke, the ship proved exceedingly difficult to detect. An expensive, yet effective solution to avoiding pursuit. Conquerdia had three now, and a fourth nearing completion and Numernorf was sure as hell not going to be the first captain to lose one of the new prides of his nation, especially not to a Neketalan.

“Uncertain sir, she’ll be cutting across our bow left to right and she isn’t adjusting course.”

Numernorf could detect an edge of fear in the young lookout’s voice, echoing his own concerns. For all their bluster and her enormous price tag the Komet and her sister ships were not battle tested. The captain stroked his beard in thought as he considered their options. They could cut southeast, flee for friendly ports in the Gukou colony, or maybe even Bessaruga. Or they could test the full potential of their manarite engines and make a mad dash. Engaging in a uncertain naval battle against a larger ship was a step too far, even for the aggressive border policy of Conquerdia. Whatever occurred it wouldn’t be long until they were spotted, and he needed to make his decision fast. The captain grinned, a fire burned within, and he had always been a cocky son of a bitch. Besides, why were they paying for these fancy engines if they never got to really use them? He spun on his heel, issuing orders left and right with gusto. “Send my regards to engineering, and have them prepare to feed the cores to full capacity, and open up the drive shafts. On my order give her everything she’s got. Lookout, inform me as soon as we’re spotted and the enemy brings her guns to bear or adjusts course. Helm, keep us steady on and away, ride between the waves and give us as much time as possible before we’re seen.”

“Aye my lord!” Came the chorus as the men scattered to fulfill their orders.

Turning Numernorf faced the oddest man present on the bridge. It was a hooded figure, dressed in drab grey with a bright red cross upon his chest. It was a strange and archaic garb compared to the blue and bright orange uniforms of Conquerdian sailors. The man sat cross legged upon the bridge’s deck, his hands folded into a strange symbol. His garments fluttered and shifted, as if a rouge breeze was playfully tugging at the fabric.

“Priest, your services are needed. Will the gods grant me favor?”

The priest’s eyes fell shut and he whispered, the playful ghostly tugging at his clothing growing more intense as he communed with beings of magic. At last he opened his eyes, an almost childish grin alighting his face. “The wind is playful and daring, and admires your boldness. What favor can he gift you?”

“I need a push.” Numernorf laughed, “A big one at just the right moment…”

1875

East of the Alveta Peninsula, 87 Nautical Miles From Mainland.

A sunless day was an unpleasant day for any Nekatala. Grey, looming clouds blotted out its warming caress from the earth. Though the rain was as important a part of life and a gift of the sun itself, it sat ill with any of them to be parted from it for long. Sunless days brought with them ill omens, and at sea the poor fortune of such inauspicious weather was greater still. The heavy, roiling sea slammed against the iron hulls of the warships patrolling the shipping lanes of Nekatalan. It was, at least, comforting to sail in such a formidable vessel against unfriendly waters and callous skies. And, certainly, Priestess-Captain Anata had every confidence that whatever the weather or the northerners might throw her way, her ship would triumph.

Tension with their neighbors to the north had resulted in a doubling of naval patrols and the ordering of a new class of fast armored cruisers. Among the first warships constructed in the new, cutting-edge dockyards of Ketalis the Irket class was a formidable addition to the proud navy of Nekatalan. The Irket herself, lead ship of the class, headed the small squadron accompanied by her sister ship [Auvetis]. Six 203mm main guns made up her heaviest armament, alongside the numerous smaller 100mm and 60mm secondary and tertiary armaments. A heavy armored belt and deck protected her most vital components from enemy fire, and torpedo compartments ensured protection from torpedo boat attack. The vessels were, technically, en-route back to Ketalis to link up with escort vessels and begin regular patrols. Boiler troubles had forced the warships to abandon their initial escorts while the armored cruisers steamed ahead. Without torpedo boat escort Anata had hoped this expedition would be an uneventful one. Not a particularly daring captain, she was regarded by most as a levelheaded woman, slow to anger and near-impossible to rouse to arms. There had been some controversy over her assignment to a class of warship designed for aggressive defense of Nekatalani territorial waters. In a heated military environment where many admirals expressed their desire to sink or board with prejudice any warship of the Dual Monarchy found within their waters, Anata’s appointment had been an attempt at a counterbalance, a calming influence that might help avert open war against yet another enemy.

And yet as her luck would have it, today was not to be an uneventful one. Augmented eyes peered out through the gloom, across cresting waves and the white froth of a churning sea as the ship’s lookouts kept a stern watch. Thanks to the natural manarite within their bodies, the lookouts’ eyes had been modified to see further than any unaltered being could hope to see, and, aided by binoculars, see they did. Racing through the waves was what was unmistakably a foreign, hostile warship intruding upon Nekatalani waters. The lookouts called out their findings and, after a moment’s hesitation, Anata had ordered the readying of a warning flare. If it could be helped the intruder would be escorted out of Nekatalani waters without a shot fired. Her crew watched her with bated breath, Nekatala, Kedireshi, Natulocan and Wamagona aboriginals, all waited on her orders. If precedent was anything to go by, the warship was Conquerdian, testing the mettle of the Nekatalani navy yet again - though it was too far yet to determine for certain, the enemy sailing without flag.

Again, the lookout shouted out to her with more news. Now the hostile ship had nearly rammed a Nekatalani cargo hauler, and moments later, a distress signal went up as three flares shot into the sky. The lookouts indicated the potential of souls overboard. The tension in the room mounted, weighing heavy like a great stone upon the shoulders of Anata. At length she gave the order to the crews of the Irket and the Auvetis to plot an intercept course with the foreign warship and to ready all battle stations. The signal lamp operator relayed her orders to the Auvetis to steam to the enemy’s flank at full speed and cut off possible escape south while the Irket accosted her from the north.

Aboard the two vessels a flurry of activity ensued as their crews raced to battle stations. Armor-piercing shells were loaded into the guns with practiced ease as the well drilled crews prepared for a possible battle. Firefighting teams readied themselves as medics braced for the worst. Like the Komet, the Irket class had never befored experienced actual combat, however many of its crew were comprised of veteran sailors who had experienced heavy fighting in the Canal War a decade prior. Though this vessel was a new one, the sea was an old friend to many aboard, and protected by thick walls of steel and heavy guns they feared nothing. Many still remembered fighting against Scalrinn cruisers within wooden-hulled, black powder warships of the age of sail. How far technology had progressed in the past ten years!

The Irket charted its course on a direct intercept with the Komet, Anata straining to see the enemy ship even as her lookouts fed her a constant stream of information. At her order, the Irket turned her guns towards the enemy ship, though no order to fire was given. A speaker stood by a large megaphone and, after a moment’s pause for the nearby crew to cover their ears, bellowed out a challenge through augmented lungs towards the Conquerdian vessel. Her voice, enhanced by the manarite within her body, carried on for miles in the chosen direction. Signal flares were sent up by the Irket, and subsequently, by the Auvetis - red warning flares that signalled the Nekatalani warships had seen their quarry. A moment later, the message arrived to its intended target.

”Enemy warship. You are trespassing within the territorial waters of the Divine Imperium of Great Nekatalan, and have been identified in aggressive action therein. Signal your surrender now and you will be safely escorted and your lives spared, the sun and heaven as my witness. Resist and be fired upon. You have sixty seconds to comply.”

Anata had hoped it would not come to this. She had hoped that, even if she had had the misfortune of finding a Conquerdian vessel, it could be peacefully escorted out. But to nearly ram a civilian vessel within their own waters, after so much previous provocation - she knew there was no recourse left but to issue a challenge. A challenge, she hoped, that would not come to bloodshed.

---

“A good Navy is not a provocation to war. It is the surest guaranty of peace.”
-President Theodore Roosevelt

---

@Dusty

1875
Nagomi Castle
Yayama Colony

Several clans came here to lay claim to new lands and eventually make these colonies their own as a province of the Empire. However, the natives of these isles to the south, the Furin, a bird like people similar to harpies, proved to be troublesome. They knew the terrain better and fought to their strengths. In the end only three clans stayed, better tempered and led by much better negotiators. They were able to gain the support of the furin but only just. It has been five years since the bloodshed of the first foray. The memories of the first few months are hard to forget, the brutality that took place on both sides are particularly fresh in the mind.

Nagao Ryuji, the daimyo of the Nagao clan and the current governor general of the colony of Yayama appointed by the Matsukaze Karasu the emperor of Ikagai, called a meeting in the great mountain stronghold of Nagomi. The aggressive nature of Ikagai have had them pour more and more men into the region to reinforce their holdings in Yayama. The island itself has many names, but the Ikagai calls it Yayama after the colony. Many foreign forces have flooded into these small islands and it concerns the Emperor that some of them are known to be aggressive themselves. Ryuji wants to use this momentum and push eastwards across Yayama island and establish new mines, railroads, and settlements. The two other clan heads here arrived, Yamamoto Fujino and Akagane Nobuhide. Additionally, local furin leaders like Daodao Gono also took interest in these meetings as the relationship between the furin and the Ikagai people have been rather uneventful the past two years. While relationship between the two people is shaky, they nonetheless understand that if they do not resolve their issues with a little bit of trust and respect that they will once again fall into that violent cycle of annihilation.

The congregation of retainers, advisors, diplomats, and of course the daimyos themselves filled the courtyard. The castle grounds had a gravelly courtyard with many trees growing, surrounding, and covering parts of the castle. They walked as they talked about the Emperor's concerns.

Ryuji started the conversation, "We have been presented with a very valid concern from the homeland..." Ryuji turned his head to look back at the two other daimyos. He had an impressive seven foot frame, a rarity in Oni, Nobuhide and Fujino stood in his shadow. "... Over the five years we have stayed here foreigners have staked their claims and have grown ever closer to our borders. We have been left alone for the most part but for how long?"

"The Emperor calls for us to make war?" Nobuhide kept one hand on his sword, he spoke with confidence and a straightforwardness that could be misconstrued as rudeness. "If so, I can gather my army and march on them. They've been an eyesore across the water ever since they've gotten here."

Fujino echoed Nobuhide's sentiments, "There is no guarantee that they will leave us alone forever, after all, we too possess a more than modest amount of manarite."

Elegantly, Ryuji faced both of them as they arrived in one of the many gardens in the inner keep. "So we are all of the same mind. But we must secure our hold here on this island first. Let us use our new forces to renew our campaign eastward."

It was at this time Daodao made his voice heard, "You would pull the furin into another war?"

Ryuji directed his gaze towards Daodao, he was a rather old furin, large wings on his back acted like a cape to shield him from the elements but as a result his feathers looked rugged and raggedy. Ryuji, a governor before soldier, recognized him and dignified his presence with a reply, "War is inevitable whether it be with or without the Ikagai. In these times, it is hard to stand together, but I promise you, not all foreigners are so quick to understand the error of their ways."

Ryuji turned to a flower growing on one of the low hanging branches. He held his hand out and plucked it from the branch, "We here may not share all of our ideals, but we are willing to put aside differences for the sake of our continued cooperation..." he held the flower towards Daodao, "... Like this flower, we are only just beginning to see the most beautiful parts of our partnership. But..." he then crushed it in his hand, "... This is also when it is most vulnerable. Whether it be because of our distrust of each other or the threat of foreign powers, it can fall apart, it can be crushed. We must stand together now more than ever." his hand released its deathly grasp and let the petals and the flowers fall to the ground.

Daodao stared at the flower. For a moment he was silent and just as Ryuji and the others thought he had nothing else to say, "... The furin will protect our ancestral land, but we will only go as far as that."

Ryuji understood where Daodao and the furin stood. They had seen the horrors of war, it was only natural that they'd avoid it. Humanity was much the same before they mingled with oni and created the empire.

Nobuhide nodded and let out a satisfied huff, "Your people impressed me the first time we fought. Your people continue to impress me now. Your spirit is insurmountable."

Daodao turned to Nobuhide and said, "... If only that meant we were as free as you."

"Soon you will be, that was the promise that we made." Fujino replied. He then looked to Ryuji, "However, this campaign eastward may put us in direct contact with Fenice."

Ryuji then said, "We will first be open to them, but if they get in the way of our ambitions then we crush them for the sake of the Emperor and the empire."

"I volunteer my men to be the vanguard." Nobuhide placed a fist on his chest.

"Very well, the Akagane clan will be the tip of the spear for our expansion east." Ryuji said.

Fujino revealed his gunbai out of his sleeves, "Then my men will follow and secure the territory with the aid of the furin." he looked to Daodao.

Daodao simply bowed and said, "The furin will help you secure their homeland, but many of the tribes may still be against you."

"Daodao, that is why you and your men will be needed. Some of you need to go ahead of the main force and assure them that we mean no harm." Ryuji then approached Daodao and bowed his head as a sign of respect, "We may have stood on opposite sides, but you have stood against us with honor. We will honor you and your people, it is true that they may not trust us, but that is why I defer to your guidance and place myself in your hands."

Nobuhide and Fujin were surprised and so was Daodao. Daodao was a recognized leader among the furin, but to bow ones head to them signifies a higher form of respect. Daodao understood what this meant, Ryuji placed him among his equals. Nobuhide and Fujin could not believe their eyes, for them this meant that Daodao, a furin savage was considered their equals.

"Nagao. What is this? An insult!?" Nobuhide put his hand on the hilt of his blade and readied himself.

Fujin closed his eyes and bowed along with Ryuji. "Akagane-san, if we are to work together, we must acknowledge that they too have the same potential as we."

Nobuhide glared at the three of them as Ryuji's bodyguard closed in on Nobuhide. He gripped the hilt hard before letting go, "You better not dishonor us down Daodao."

"Unlike you, this is my homeland. My people will fight and die to defend it." Daodao met Nobuhide's eyes, matching his glare with a cold stare.

"Then we have an agreement." Ryuji's bodyguard stood down and the four of them strolled into the castle, "Now let us have some tea."

Skirmish off the Neketalan Peninsula, Between Conquerdian and Neketalani Vessels.

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Warning from the lookout it seemed, would be unnecessary for it would appear that the Neketalans possessed a few tricks of their own. Augmented eyes the humans aboard the Komet could never understand spotted them from many miles away, and an eerie disembodied voice hailed them from outside the natural range dousing any hope of slipping past unnoticed. A hush had fallen over the crew, every man had heard the words and it was a demand taken well into account. Two enemy vessels, both of which outsized and outgunned the Komet, who was still many leagues from a friendly port. A single lucky hit from one of the hostile guns could rupture the steel hull, and the frothing ocean would do the rest. For Captain Geoff Numernorf it was the realization of a foolhardy command decision, and one that might just cost him his life, but never his honor. He would rather see the Komet sink below the merciless waves then turn her impressive technology over to the Neketalan demonspawn. He paced the bridge, his mind working furiously, silently counting down the precious few seconds he had as the twin threat bore down upon them.

The Irket class vessels were formidable works of engineering themselves, but how quickly could the Komet outpace them? Assuming their size and speed were similar again to Conquerdian heavy cruiser. Geoff worked some quick mental math, comparing them against his own ship’s predetermined and assumed performance calculations. The main factor would be the turning and angle adjustment of those light guns, the heavy ones he could outpace he was certain. It would be close, presumedly they would have to get lucky in the range of three to four times. But if his timing was right… Five seconds left, he stopped his movements wild blue eyes locking on his First Officer. “Number one, give orders to prepare to raise the colors, if we must die, we do so under the Royal banner. Have the crew remain at stations and have all non-essential personnel below deck. I shall have the helm slow us to one quarter speed, and have white flares fired. That should confuse the enemy sufficiently, I doubt they know our protocols and they might assume it is a signal for surrender. But I have no intention of surrendering my ship. Furthermore, we will not allow the Neketalans to fire first, on my command target the bridge of the secondary vessel and then bring the ship to flank speed. We’ll see how skillful those scum are at tracking a moving target.” Letting his voice carry Geoff addressed the general crew assembled on deck through his open command window. His low tones heard even over the intemperate seas. “Hold your fire and nerve lads, until you can see them in the eyes. Let them draw closer, and we will be upon them like a cornered dog, and away before they know what has happened. The Neketalans send their women to do a man’s work. Let us show them the error of their ways.”

Like twin shooting stars the pale flares of a Conquerdian naval vessel illuminated the overcast sky. She slowed her approach until she was at less than a quarter of her initial momentum, as if inviting her captors to draw near and board. Less than a kilometer separated them now, and the twin Irket class cruiser broke formation, skillfully maneuvering to surround their quarry and cut off any hope for escape. Except, that was the moment Captain Geoff Numernorf was awaiting. Knowing the enemy would be fully prepared to attack on a moment’s notice timing would be of the essence. He snapped the order to fire. Four blasts echoed across the waves sending shockwaves off the water, rocketing four 152mm shells towards the Avuetis. Numernorf counted the seconds not even waiting to see if any hits were scored, his hand raised at the ready even as the defiant orange and blue of the Dual Monarchy was hoisted from the mizzenmast. One second, for the shocked Neketalans to realize they were under attack by a surrendered enemy. Two seconds for them to reach for the firing mechanisms to send twelve two hundred and three millimeters of armor piercing death flying his way. Three for the three thousand, two hundred feet the shells needed to traverse to hit him. “NOW engines to full! Give me that push!”

Three things happened simultaneously as the Komet was tested to the breaking limit of its hull’s capability. First, full fuel rods of manarite were fed into the engine core, sending a surge of power throughout the gear works that shook the vessel and knocked anyone not strapped down off their feet. The prow rose up from the water, in a near comical display as hundreds of tons of water were suddenly thrust away by the drive wheels. Secondly a great microburst opened up from the heavens showering a thick torrent of rain, and six thousand feet per second winds directly upon the Komet in a rush of downdraft. Like an enormous invisible hand, the gale caught the raised prow and nearly lifted the ship clear of the ocean’s grasp. So powerful were the winds that ropes snapped, and the Dual Monarchy banner was ripped away along with the caps of all the deck crew. Several cries of anguish could be heard, and the unlucky lookout was thrown from the mast by a snapped line, dead before he struck the merciless black waters. The priest behind Numernorff strained, as the enormous magical surge sapped at his strength until he passed out from the pressure. But he had achieved his task. He had allowed Numernorf to dodge a bullet, twelve bullets in fact, and with a ship no less. The Captain crowed as he struggled to his feet, bleeding from the nose and mouth from where he struck his face during the excessive forward thrust that had pushed the light cruiser forward like a racing boat. But the blood and pain could not fade his mocking laughter at the dumbfound looks that would surely be painted across the Neketalans faces.

His jubilation was cut short by a mighty explosion that rocked the speeding ship to its starboard side. “Impact! Hit on the aft and portside our secondary battery is destroyed!” The First Officer reported. A lucky Neketalani gunner had no doubt been delayed, or held off firing with the initial volley and was able to score a deadly hit on the aft battery sending its magazine up in flames. Whoever had made the shot, her precision was something to be admired, but Numernorf was not going to wait about to see if she could pull it off again. A quick glance at the pulverized remains of the gun crew, and the twisted metal of the battery itself was more than enough indication of what would happen if they outstayed their welcome. Trailing black smoke from a barely controlled fire the Komet sailed at top speed towards the northern horizon, slipping past the circling hunters before they could come about, desperate to escape the heavy cruisers’ max range before they could reload and bring their guns to bear.

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@Lady Lascivious

1875

Ketalis, Overseas Nekatalan

An Ikagai ship escorted by a destroyer of a somewhat dated design lurches into view of Nekatalan controlled territory. Ryuji watches as the coastal dock approaches with every second that passes.

“So we are about to meet the foxes cursed by blood. This should be interesting.” the seven foot oni dressed in a traditional yukata. His swords are worn on one side to signify that he is indeed a warrior.

The city of Ketalis loomed in the distance. Silhouetted as always by a column of black smoke from its bustling factories, the city itself was a bright, well constructed and planned, modern city with an intriciate network of trains and streetcars that carried people to and fro. The massive dockyards held dozens of steel-hulled vessels under construction, new steam powered drydocks and technologies wondrous even without the aid of manarite formed the beating heart of the city’s booming economy.

The arriving warship was greeted out in harbor by a welcoming party of the Nekatalani fleet, flags at full mast and bedecked for full ceremonial duties. On sight of the approaching delegation, the receiving warships fired off a three part salute, and the amplified sound of a trumpet blared out across the waters. The vessel was received with magnificent ceremony. A full military parade stood ready, legions of black-trimmed khaki clad troopers marched in lockstep to receive the delegates. As they disembarked, the ceremony grew greater still, new trumpets sounding as Nekatalan celebrated the arrival official delegation of Ikagai.

The delegates were escorted towards the consular compound, a well built square of the city wherein numerous national embassies to Nekatalan were located - though not as many as in the massive home capital of Tekatal itself. Through plushly furnished interiors lit by modern electric lighting they walked, until at last they came to the office of the Governor-Priestess Livuket.

Livuket was an Enneakata, unlike the majority of those they would have seen. She rose to greet the two, a warm smile on her features as she welcomed them in. “I am sure the ceremony must have made it clear but, let me personally welcome you to Nekatalan, and express my sincere joy at your arrival. I hope this will be the start of a prosperous relation between our peoples.”

Ryuji and his two guards bow towards the governess. “Your welcome was warm and well received by my men.” He straightens his posture and brings out a hand fan, “I am sure you are aware through our correspondence, but I am the current governor of the colonial territory, Yayama. There is much we should discuss between our two territories and indeed our two nations. Though I do not mind small talk before business either, such a beautiful day shouldn’t be wasted after all.”

Livuket smiled, but shook her head. “Nonsense - while I agree that a beautiful day ought be enjoyed, I think it is better enjoyed when official business and matters of import have been dealt with. You are free to enjoy the city at your leisure - but I think it best we discuss these crucial matters now, rather than later. War looms, and it would not do to dally.”

Ryuji brings out a fan and hides his face in a most regal manner, “Much agreed. War does loom on the horizon and my Emperor is keen to bring our potential enemies to heel. I believe it is in both our best interests to see to it that we never meet on opposite sides.”

“I, too, pray that our peoples never raise arms against each other so long as the sun smiles upon us.” Livuket said, nodding agreement, “Though we have many enemies, we are glad to count the fine people of Ikagai as potential friends, please, take a seat, make yourselves comfortable. I can have refreshments brought, if you wish?”

“A warm cup of tea would be nice…” he says as he takes a seat and motions for his guards to take a step back. “Well straight to business, my people would like to negotiate a non-aggression treaty and a military alliance for things regarding these isles. There are too many foreigners on these shores and it would be good to trim the fat as they say.”

Livuket suppressed an audible gasp of surprise. “Th- well, that is a very… forward request of you. We’ll - I mean, we’ll need to weigh this possibility of course, but we are honored that you would make such a proposal of us. Against the enemies that face us on all fronts, we must stand united against those who would defy the will of good and of order.”

She nodded to an aide within the room who bowed his head, disappearing down the hall and reappearing a few minutes later with a kettle of steaming water, several varieties of tea, and numerous sweets and other snacks arrayed upon elegantly simplistic porcelain.

Ryuji closed the fan revealing a confident smile, “We of the Ikagai do not mince words nor do we participate in trickery when it comes to our friendships. Your kind have a reputation of being diseased and cursed. However, to the Ikagai, we know that many of you are more than your condition…” he took a cup of tea with one hand and let the warm wafting vapors fill his nose with its aroma, “I will not patronize your people. We know what you are capable of and in many respects we are envious, but this is precisely why we desire cooperation.”

“Diseased and cursed…” Livuket murmured, standing from her desk and fixing the foreign diplomat with a piercing stare. “Look around you at this city, built in the span of but a decade. Look at it, look at it well. See the steel structures that rise around us, the dockyards, the trains, the bustling industry and the sprawling housing complexes. All of this we have built with our own hands. Perhaps most of us may not live as long as many of you.” She turned from Ryuji, gesturing out to the cityscape that sprawled before them through the office’s window, “But we are not a people defined by our curse. We are a people who have triumphed over it - to say nothing of those like me.” She turned back to him, “I am two hundred and sixty three years old. I have seen horrors the likes of which you can scarcely comprehend. I remember wars fought when your father’s father’s father was nothing but an urge in the loins of his father. I have brought sixteen children into the world and seen twelve of them die in wars or from a curse passed onto us from ancestors long forgotten. The oldest of those who yet live is approaching her end. She asks me if the ritual hurts - what is a mother to tell her daughter when she asks such a thing? I have seen the mangled bodies of other daughters brought back from war, where we slew twice our number in Iakutians and watered the ground in their blood. I have seen all of this, and it is but a small fraction of what we are. You are wise, governor, not to patronize us.”

She sighed. “I do not mean to insult you in this, governor, you have done us no ill will. But I remember when the Iakutians subjugated us and spoke of us as vermin. When they razed cities and plundered the countryside. ‘Feral dogs’ we were called, ‘cursed jackals’, ‘savage hyenas’ - I remember fields of corpses from Iakutian purges. I remember thousands dead from the rampages of those who turned when they could not receive their dignified death. I am not angry at you, governor, but when you speak of us as diseased and cursed, you speak not only of six thousand years of hardship, most of us knowing from birth the year we will die - you speak of the desecration of our home, of propaganda spread of us by foreign conquerors. You speak of the lies that were spread of us when we threw off their yoke.”

She remained silent for a while, save for a single motion to eat one of the candied fruits that lay upon the crystal platter, chewing idly on it and swallowing. “And yet you also acknowledge that we are more than a curse. Not many have done so. For that you have my thanks. When we march to war and the sun drinks her fill of the blood of the faithless of the dual monarchy, it will be my great honor to know the part I have played when our daughters fi- our daughters and our sons fight side by side against them.”

Ryuji takes a sip of his tea and places it on the table, he opens his fan and begins fanning himself. He bows his head acknowledging the passion of Livuket and her people, “We of the Ikagai have made the right choice in friends…” He stops, to take his still sheathed sword and places it infront of him on the table. “... My people up until recently have only known war among ourselves and the foreign devils that sought to subjugate our kind. We knew that your kind faced hardships unimaginable, but all that I knew of those hardships came from baseless rumors. To hear it from you only then solidifies that the Emperor and I have made the right choice in allies.”

He pointed to the sword, “In our culture, the sword of a warrior is akin to one’s soul, one’s being. I apologize if I have offended you or your people. To present the sword sheathed to the other is a sign of respect and trust. Think of this as not just my action, but the Emperor’s for I represent him in the colonies. Let it be known that on this historic day, the Ikagai placed their faith in Nekatala - a foreign power.” He paused, to look straight into Livuket’s eyes, “... This marks the first time Ikagai has ever seen a foreign power as an equal… Perhaps even more than that.”

Livuket smiled. “I am glad to hear that, Ryuji, I am very glad indeed. We are new to this land, and yet we have made our claim upon it. It is with great honor that I extend our hand to you in friendship, and raise a joined fist against those who would stand in our way. You have offered us no offense, for there was no malice in your words. Instead, please accept my apologies for my outburst.” Her fingers trailed along the sword’s scabbard, the cool, lacquered wood smooth against her skin as she stood silent for a moment.

“It is a beautiful sword, for sure. Most of our blades are made for function, these days. There has been precious little time for ornamentation or the sword as an art. It is a weapon of desperate defense. Of blood soaked, hard-scrabbling melees in the desert. Men and women fighting and dying in the sand, the dry grains drinking the life of those who fell. And yet when I look at this sword I don’t see an Iakutian gurgling at the end of it, I don’t see a lizard choking out his last breath in the dirt. I see the work of the smith who created it, I see each brush stroke on the scabbard. I see the appreciation for the beauty in what is terrible. I think we may yet have lessons to learn, or perhaps relearn, from your people.”

“The beauty is in the sheathe, it is peace, tranquility, control…” Ryuji takes another gentle sip of his tea, “... That is why, the act of unsheathing it is as if one is lighting a fire or unleashing an untamed beast. The sword, represents the spirit of our warriors. It is a religious and symbolic part of our culture. We as Ikagai do not pretend to lose sight of what we were, we remember and remind ourselves of our past constantly. We keep the warrior spirit alive.”

He takes up the sword and points the hilt towards her, as if he is asking Livuket to pull the blade out of its scabbard, “That is also why it is a sign of respect to offer it to someone else. It is as if you’re saying that you’re putting yourself in someone else's hands.”

Livuket gingerly took the sword in her hands, feeling its heft and weight and, slowly, gently, sliding it from its sheathe. Holding it with the grasp of one who was well acquainted with swords from a time few others remembered, she felt a surge of forgotten memory fill her for a moment, before exhaling. She admired the blade for a moment, the rippling pattern that ran down its length before the cutting edge where the differential heat treatment had colored the steel. The weapon was a work of art.

Slowly, she slid it back into its sheath, passing it back to Ryuji with a smile. “I’m afraid we have no similar custom, but I thank you sincerely nonetheless. It is a beautiful blade. And an… interesting way to view it. It might take some getting used to, but I can see the value in it.”

“There is no need to worry about that, I understand that in the first place our customs are different. But for both of us, it is good to see with both eyes open. We’ve learned much from each other today…” He slips the sheathed sword back to where it was on his garb, “... The most important is that despite our differing customs, despite what is said behind both our backs, despite our , we are able to work together and respect one another. We are able to see the good things within each other. If we are able to then it is not impossible to foresee that our countries will be able to do the same.”

He finishes his tea before continuing, “I can see that overall this official business that we’ve had is positive. I shall send word to the Emperor upon my return to Yayama.” he then looks to Livuket, “With that, we can move on to more personal matters, that is of course if you’re not too busy. Let us enjoy this day and you can help me learn more about you and your people.”

Livuket raised an eyebrow. “Quick to jump to rest and relaxation, I see. Very well, I suppose the niceties of the treaty can be hashed out later when you are better rested.” She nodded to him, plucking another treat from her tray and popping it into her mouth, “Well, then, what exactly would you like to know about us? There’s certainly plenty of information out there, I’m not sure what you need me for.”

“Hahaha, as I’ve said, a day such as this one shouldn’t be wasted on just business. We of Ikagai do enjoy the little things as well.” Ryuji pondered, putting a hand to his chin, “Perhaps a stroll through the city with less fanfare. I’d like to know more about your people and culture. It is what I’d do for you if you were in my city. Further, I’d like to know more about my counterpart. I’m sure you have many questions for me as well.”

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