Visitors from afar (Invite Only) v2

[Renor Xukuth]

Prologue

A being that is basically a creature of purgatory. Neither undead nor alive. It accounts for the lack of scent, no aura, and more or less, if one did not know what to look for, they could both be present and unnoticed even when close. That is what represents an oracle in this place, this matter of creature. Who even now at the moment was settled somewhat serenely next to a tangled weave of vines and broken stone of which cradled a bit of water.

With a slither of step, through the rubble of ivory, stone and nature's grasp of vine did another of that dark blood stroll into view. Fingertips trailed against the one half cracked pillar remaining, feeling every carved in rune marking in passing before coming beside that of Siefa. Alighting down into a bit of a squat, tentative reach of right arm, to allow hand to gently tease the others head a moment. Pushing an unruly dark splash of tresses aside. My love, of why do you spend your time here..in this place of places?

Reacting slowly at first, head teased upwards with a faint smile slowly curving into place as fingertips toyed with her hair a bit. Unconscious slide of head to the touch before responding. Because they require us, without us they would be without guides. Somewhat innocent response to the greater question, while not really answering it fully. A glance back down at the pool of water below. Does She know that I have been dreaming of a future without her?

A slight bit of laughter from the older of the two, though that really wasn't anything of importance, not to them at least. Of course She knows dearly beloved. How could she not? She is infinite. I think she approves of this though, it advances our cause. A withdraw of hand back, glancing towards the pool the other seemed drawn towards. What future do you see? A studious stare of the bound liquid, nary a ripple to be seen, nor a bottom. As if it went on forever, much as time did.

What we see, and what may happen are of course the reality of the vision. Siefa purred out her response, the syllables rolling off of the other Grey's tongue, neatly and properly. Their lack of presence would be hard to explain, but then again, this grove had to be sought by those that knew of it's existence or stumbled upon it perhaps. It was not a way point, but a portal if you will, for a path that lay between planes of existence. A rueful look for a moment. It speaks of our great mother's passing. We see the path you take during this moment, but there are many ways such can happen. No one is the right one.

Such visions are of course not unusual. You also if I am not mistaken, predicted brother Thei's passing also. Contemplated a moment as he ended up coming to rest upon the ancient ground. Noting the vines that crisis-crossed about, almost as if they held the earth and stone together, like some sort of bandage. A smile appeared, like some sort of knife wound in the cheek, words passing forth soon after. Are we destined to fade away but to dust, to pass into the night? To be but memory in an Oracle's eye? Slight turn of head to the right, peering about the interior, to visually store the interior within his mind."Let the end of us come, do we not deserve it at long last Siefa?"

What we deserve is but left to the will of the Goddess of ours. Should She wish it, we at long last shall rest. Slow dip of right index finger into the puddle, then drew it back, the liquid drew up and as if something other then the water it appeared to be, brought closer for examination. After a time it was flicked free, and the liquid drew back it's lone appendage with not a splash or a ripple. If you seek death so, then of following us, you should partake. We have been guaranteed a brilliant death should we wish it.

Pursuing you has always been natural to me, my love. Slow curl of frame, tease of head to the right, resting it within the open palm of left hand as said elbow laid against stone.Ever does the moon pursue the sun, does it not? So shall I, Hiendor pursue you Siefa. Until the eve of judgement comes from She. A pause for a moment, then spoke again after just a few seconds, while eyes wandered towards the crumbling ceiling above. The invitations to the those that interest us and more specifically, The Batorys were sent earlier before my arrival.

Delightful my love, I do hope they come. Slithered up from her seated position, carefully and methodically meandering about from stone to stone, never stepping on the same one twice as arms came to stretch out and then splay fingers out, eyes upon the ceiling. A vision of our deaths, could it be so grand? Quite possibly yes, but then again, it could not be. As you say, not all paths are the same. Perhaps we fade into dust and never to be remembered. A slight laugh escaped, as she kept to her laying position, simply amused at the body movements and language that such broad-casted to her eyes as she moved about the interior of the grove's hall. Not so much really a grove, more such in just name.

If we are to fade, then we are to fade. There is but little even we could do to stem the tide of the waves of passing. A slow twirl about, coming to a precarious position upon an upturned end of a pillar, laying as such upon the ground. We are as we must be. He eventually made way back towards the laying form of Siefa, and bent over a bit, peering down at her with a smile the Cheshire cat would be quite proud of. A slow, tender reach, gently capturing the jaw of his delightful, and some would say, just as slippery and serpentine as he himself was. Gentle became firm, and firm became a vice, leading the head downwards. You know well as I, that you musnt speak of such, so openly. She would not be amused, even from you such words on such a thing. Be careful dear Siefa, remember the fate of Narcis. Such was a tale of woe amongst the Grey, a rising star of beauty and grace, yet delivered unto the final gates of oblivion for gracing to much the ears of others about the dominion of the bleak lands. Open lips do sink ships and all that ruckus. A bit of a hold there for a moment more, before release. Marks where the fingers were had placed dark trails against such sweet skin, yet as one would look upon the other, they would but fade away.

You wound me with such barbs. Never would I sink to such, forever do I remember poor, sweet Narcis and her fate. Forever a feast for the ancient oblivion. A faint look of shock had crossed Siefa's face, turning her more of a ghost then possible before the flesh tone began to return. As captured jaw came free, the spiderweb like marks from the pressure created by fingertips began to dissipate. A pout of sorts offered before falling upon the ground in a fluid yet slow motion like maneuver, coming to rest head in the crook of Hiendor's lap, right hand gently pressing to silk clad thigh. We see so much these nights, yet we do not see our own end. Shall we pass together, or shall we be left alone? Constant as the northern star, is our queries of the future yet become past.

I will make the promise that if I must go forth, that I shall stain thee with a blade's cruel touch, so that you may join us on the great journey. A light stroke of dark hair, curling fingers gently so as to act like a rake. A tilt of head, alighting those eyes of his upon the nestled figure below, who had ursurped his lap in a moment of willful and unecessary want. You will not be alone Siefa. Our vow as Grey's shall bind us all to each other. Bonds as this, they simply do not come into existence without a reason. They must be earned, in blood, sweat, tears, in agony, and bliss. Bliss indeed, such as was the moment now, a dream amongst dreams that held peace of moment.

Visitors to be

The invitation spoken of had indeed been sent, through proper channels of course. Bouncing through the various nation's diplomatic hubs and stations to finally arrive heavily post dated and stamped at each othe empires said invitation had been mailed to. Within each mail bag was a cylindrical case embossed with a wax seal bearing the Imperial Gynecocracy's mark of the Matriarch and that of the House of Hiendor.

The message was short, but to the point, much like the Xukuthites themselves. It read as the following:

On Behalf of the Matriarch,
I, Duke Hiendor of House Hiendor,
Do formally invite you Honoured sirs and or madames to the birthday and subsequent fesitivies of the Matriach

We await your arrival after acceptance of this invititation.

A thumb drive would be included, and one could plug it into any navigation system for complete and understandable directions that would take them to what was labled, Draeval d' Dol'ruth (Which literally meant Point of Passing), and in the world of the Gynecocracy, the international airport and submission area for foreigners before being fully allowed within the Xukuthite dominion.

It was here that the delegations aircraft were to land, and a notice that escorts were allowed but all would be met by an Xukuthite military presence as well. Foreign escorts were to be limited to two fighters and a host of no more then five security personnel amongst an entourage of no more then four. Though they were indeed inviting a foreign group of parties, the invitations latter half seemed to suggest that they did not wish large amounts of dignitaries within the dominion on any given day or time.

[Renor Xukuth]

For The Arrivals

To each diplomatic chariot that arrived, a path of red awaited at last step of the gantry to the aircraft that had borne them to Draeval d' Dol'ruth, essentially a diplomatic airstrip. Each carpet led in a path that connected with the main one. At each side, stood rows of the soldiery that served the Imperial Gynecocracy.

Much like those that Verebra had seen briefly in Karthay, so to that appearance was kept. Men and women who bore little in decoration or even marker as to what rank or what they were specialists of. They bore rifles pointing skywards, ruthless looking serrated bayonets glittering the waning light of the dipping sun. At each diplomats arrival onto the carpet, they raised said firearms until the bladed tips clinked against the soldier across the way, making an arch of sorts.

Slowly with seductive swaying of hips, women adorned in long flowing dresses of nearly see-through attire flung flower petals gently to the carpet and beside it. The scent was sweet, but not overly powerful, even in numbers as it was being offered in the amounts it was. The paths would all lead to the main one, and then there residing within the center most position, would be a young woman whom bore the mark of House Hiendor, not that it would be obvious of course. Along-st the path of her back was a series of metal plates that mirrored the path of the spine intermixed with a tattoo that was shaped into a sort of dragon or serpent, it wasn't very clear as to what it was.

She was just under six foot tall, shoulder length dark hair, nearly red, and bearing green eyes. Her arms bore copper bands inscribed with runes of the old language that the Xukuthites preferred. Her gown was barely held in place by thin strands of satin, sculpting her figure and showing an expanse of back towards the curve of rear. As the guests approached, she offered a slight bow of head before speaking.

My lords and ladies, House Hiendor welcomes you to our land, and bids you prepare for travel to the honored home of my lord the Duke and her Ladyship. She rose slowly and turned a bit to the right, splaying right hand a bit and gesturing towards the blackened coaches that awaited their passengers.

Drawn by four fine boned Andalusian's as black as the carriages they bore, a score of guards accompanying the carriage on steeds, though security was high, it was kept to the House Guard, over the atypical escort provided. Not one to keep a host waiting it would be mere moments before the doors of the carriages were swung open, one by one while the guards dismounted only to stand to either side of the carriage doors.

Each guard by the doors would bow their heads, and the House Guard unlike those along-st the red carpet path, wore more traditional uniforms, hearkening to a time long since passed. Each bore an armor of infantry scale, with a helm in the shape of a wolf. Another held a banner upright upon halberd and this is what vision awaited those arriving for the Matriarch's party.

[The Batorys]

Soon after, a reply arrived, in a metal canister, similar in size to the one that the invitation had been sent in. Apparently a case of reuse amid the Imperial government, its shine had long ago been weathered to a dull, matte appearance, though the runic markings covering it, no doubt advising against premature opening on pain of death (and, knowing the Batory clan, curses upon such a miscreant's soul after death to ensure prolonged suffering, despair, etc.), were still quite clear on the container's dark grey surface. Its archaic, partly decorative lock system necessitated the simultaneous arrival of a matched key. Such, thankfully, went off without a hitch. The message it contained was rather short, and to the point.

My Dear Hiendor, Duke of House Hiendor,

My entourage and I will arrive shortly after you receive this missive. I am indeed thrilled to accept this invitation, especially given the demands of events on all of us.

Yours,
-Vereba, Batory Empress

While usually more formal with her correspondence, the moroii found it difficult not to be casual with those who had shared such fraught moments with her as those in Karthay. And the Duke and Duchess had indeed shared such. In fact, they had saved Vereba's life... another thing that discouraged formality.

Nonetheless, the note was written in that rust colored hue familiar to anyone who had seen a fair bit of dried blood.

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

The sky bled with the sun's daily death, the horizon a strident shade of vermillion, when a familiar jet the color of bleached bones and subtly shaded to look like an ivory carving of a dragon approached Draeval d' Dol'ruth. The jet was clearly the same one that had been at Karthay, as it still bore scars from said fiasco. Several dents surface punctures from stray bullets, and a few scorched areas of the finish bore witness to the hostilities still going on. While it certainly would have been possible to take another jet, this one had been chosen deliberately. The Batory clan was notorious for its scions' penchant for the dramatic.

This time, however, it had a more formidable escort. The limitations on security forces given by the invitation were followed to the letter, with two fighters trailing the Empress' plane. It wasn't emblematic of any distrust of her hosts, but rather an admission of the practical reality that the it seemed that the rest of the world had forgotten the Batorys, and so various interlopers perhaps might think it a coup to waylay the Empress on her journey, though that once would have been unthinkable. While Vereba had escaped earlier, what little remained of her youngest son lay on the seabed near the place of that debacle. So bold did upstarts grow.

As soon as it was cleared for landing, the conveyance touched down on Xukuthite ground.

Inside, in the dim lighting her kind preferred, Empress Vereba Batory stood and stretched. She had tried to sleep on the plane ride over, as it had taken the majority of the day, which she preferred to spend sleeping, but anticipation had made it difficult. Still, even for one of her endurance, exhaustion could occasionally creep up. A whirlwind of events demanding her participation had taken place in the last few weeks. The most recent had been the most enjoyable, but still left her fatigued and sore. It was a frustration, to feel one's age.

As her plane had left, the smoke from Ithtyr's Night had still hung in the air above the capital. The festival started in earnest at dusk December 20th (as foreigners marked dates) and ended at dawn December 22nd, as the core of the Empire was far enough north that the 21st itself had no daylight at all. Vereba could tell that despite having bathed, she still smelled slightly of the bonfires... and of course, the scents of coitus and blood were present as well; the time holiest to the goddess Ithtyr was one filled with orgies and sacrifices. As much as the Empress enjoyed the annual celebration of her patron deity, participation to the degree she felt compelled towards was physically demanding.

Perhaps this trip would be a sort of long needed rest for the weary leader of the Batory clan. Then again, perhaps not, as the moroii had no idea what the Xukuthite festivities for this occasion entailed. Perhaps the most mysterious of all her realm's allies, Hiendor and Siefa the least easily read out of all her colleagues... and this greatly intrigued Vereba. Naturally, she could assume that this was a formal event, even if all details were totally unknown, and so had dressed accordingly. But then, unlike the previous interactions she'd had with her counterparts, her visit here was as much for pleasure as it was for business, perhaps moreso, and so the green gown she'd selected was considerably more revealing... so transparent that if one understood the runic alphabet the Empire used, one could easily read the script that formed parts of a few of the many designs permanently inked into her ghostly skin. Some of these dated from her time in the army, so long ago, mementos of old campaigns. Most were related directly to her service as a member of Ithtyr's clergy. A few were simply there for decoration. Obviously, her garment hid very little at all, the gleam of metal clearly discernible peaking out from beneath the thin fabric.

Even so, the Empress carried an air of deadly competence. While the cloth of her dress revealed things normally hidden in other cultures, it also revealed a body that while still alluring, was certainly not 'soft,' as it were. The same odd one sided sword, some named it a warbrand, instead of hanging on her back as it had at the conference, instead lay in the hands of the man beside the Empress. While this made it obvious that here the weapon was strictly for ceremony (tradition demanded that the Empress be armed... when traveling, Batory Empresses rarely wore the crown, using the ancient blades instead as symbolic of their office), even a cursory glance at Vereba's figure would make it quite obvious to any observer that she remained quite capable of wielding the archaic weapon. Decades of practice at presenting herself as the incarnation of the Empire made it easy to push the feeling of sore muscles and mental fog to the back of her mind. After all, the fatigue induced by enthusiastic religious ritual was nothing compared to being held hostage at gunpoint. Such thoughts, too, were pushed away as she stepped forward, out the aircraft's door to the stairs awaiting. To the forefront of her mind, again, came curiosity, tinged with excitement, as she observed her first sights of the Imperial Gynocracy.

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As the ruler of the Batory Empire stepped down the red path laid before her, it became apparent that conditions had been followed exactly. Besides the man at Vereba's side, the youngest of her husbands, there were four other Dragon's Claw who quickly fanned out behind their Empress, though remained fairly close, and apparently relaxed. Despite all being dressed in dark colors, and possessed of the same air of confidence, they were quite disparate in appearance. The Batory clan matriarch appeared to largely ignore their presence, aside from the one among them, Iwak, who was a husband of hers, youngest of the three.

The small party made their way forward, between the rows of Xukuthite soldiers. Vereba noted that like the forces she'd seen from this land at the ill-fated conference, the names and ranks of these warriors were apparently known only to themselves, no markings of any such kind being visible on their attire. The arch they made with their weapons, here used in ceremony, but no doubt as capable of being functional as the sword the Empress' husband carried, was high, there being easily enough room for Vereba and Iwak's heights. Vereba's expression was unreadable as they passed.

Given her past career, she had to smile slightly at the women clad much as she was herself, who covered the way before them with sweet smelling blossoms. Still, while Vereba's eyes roamed, her progress continued unabated, towards the main path. She could see that the other delegations were also arriving, some from familiar nations, including her neighbor to the south, which pleased her, and others from lands heretofore unknown. Introductions would have to be made, later.

She turned her gaze to the woman meeting them. Only slightly shorter than the Empress, her appearance was striking. While her garment fit in a highly flattering manner, it was the back it bared that piqued the Batory ruler's curiosity. Tattooed like her own skin, but also adorned with metal plates all the way down the woman's spine. Said plates appeared to be joined with the woman's skin. Vereba wanted to reach out and touch them, or more specifically, the junction between metal and flesh, but kept this thought to herself. The moroii's black eyes glittered in something akin to both desire and inquisitiveness, her smile wide, as their unnamed voice of greetings welcomed the various guests to the Imperial Gynecocracy. As the Empress and her small entourage made for one of the black carriages, she stole another glance at the green eyed beauty.

Before climbing into the carriages, she noted the pleasingly archaic uniforms of the House Guard. The helms reminded the vampiress of the Pendrunsk family, who took the wolf as a symbol. One of the few noble houses allowed to continue living in a conquered province, they were the royal family of Drun, and largely left to govern it as they saw fit. Vereba smiled. Everything at their traditional family domicile, a massive but somewhat ungainly castle known simply as "The Den," was wolf themed. They seemed to take their patron animal very seriously, to the point of keeping them as pets. There had been tension with them in previous eras, but the Empress rather liked them. The idle musing was banished as the carriages got underway, and her attention once more was focused on taking in the sights of the land around her as they progressed towards the event.

[Sevaris]

Sometimes, I think these things shall be the end of me. The victor of Sofia was not thinking about any particular enemy on the field, indeed, she was far from any field of battle. The only thing even resembling a battlefield she could see from her office was the park below Blachernae’s porphyry chambers. And the only battle there might have been the occasional football match between bored youths.

No, the only enemy facing the Empress of the Sevarisians today was the unconquerable enemy of all captains of state: bureaucracy. Before her sat a purple case full of various state papers for her to sign. Appointments, warrants, directives, memoranda, and requests for tender, among other things, awaited her. In her years on the throne, Zoe had learned that some of these boxes could be more interesting than others- if somebody told her what they were. If she received a box containing lists of requested promotions, she considered those carefully and gave them due consideration. These at least dealt with men and women who were actually engaged in some kind of real service. But if the box contained, say, five-year plans for the Achaean Directorate of Public Health’s plans for rural clinic expansion, she was more inclined to coast. One could only read so much bureaucratic jargon before wanting to tear one’s eyes out.

Gingerly, she opened the box and found that its contents were...completely dull. Placing her reading glasses on, she discovered that she was reviewing proposals for expanding freight access to ports in Palestine. Why is this my job? They know that I’ll be alright with it...who decided to throw a shitfit and throw it up to my level... Zoe had tried her best to discourage this sort of behavior. She had said time and again in the High Council that she wanted “independent initiative”- You know what I want, gentlemen. Get out there and do it- that was what I told them, right? More likely than not, some ambitious local administrator had tucked some memo in there attacking the proposals’ conclusions and wanted to get noticed. That was what they always did.

I’ll find it and shred it. But before she could open the report, she heard a soft, familiar knock on the door. Three light raps, each spaced a second apart- Tahirah. Her Egyptian lover used that as her calling card at Blachernae, a necessity given the sheer number of bureaucrats and courtiers roaming the halls.

“Enter, my darling,” the Empress called in Coptic.

Tahirah entered the room smiling, carrying a strange cylindrical case. After exchanging a kiss, she took a seat on the desk and inquired after the paperwork. “What’d they give you today?”

“Awful, awful stuff,” Zoe groaned, rolling her eyes, “more proposals for port expansion. Apparently no one in Caesarea who’s in a place to decide wants to it, so they kicked it up to me. But the problem is...well...”, Zoe chuckled, taking off her glasses. “I don’t give a damn. It’s not my job to play referee.”

Tahirah shook her head, bouncing her dark tresses. “I’ll have to have a word with Samaras when I see him next week- he knows Galinos and the rest of the gang of fools running the ministry in Caesarea, he’ll probably be able to talk some sense into them. But anyway...”

Zoe chuckled. Whenever Tahirah said “anyway”, it always seemed that she wanted something. Anyway, here’s the briefing I told you about...Anyway, when will we go to Rhodes?...Anyway, here’s the communique threatening war with the French...

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing much,” the Grand Logothete replied, “just a particular little gem that the Foreign Directorate forwarded to me this morning.” She presented the sealed cylinder to the Empress, who looked at it somewhat askance.

“I assume we are to open this?”

Tahirah stifled a laugh. “Well, yes, that would be advisable...”

“You never know. I’d hate to break it.” Zoe carefully broke the seal and read the message. It was an invitation to the birthday of the Matriarch of Renor Xukuth, a land that the Empress had to admit she knew little about. She vaguely understood it as a far-flung great power with rising influence, but otherwise had no experience of the country.

“Well, lovey, we’ve been invited to a party for the Matriarch of Xukuth. Question is,” she said, tapping her finger against her chin, “is there any reason you or I should go? Or ought we just pick someone from the ministry? I could also ask Leka,” she said, referencing the Emperor.

“I’d say that *we* should go. Well, *you* moreso than me, but this would be an opportunity for us to go to an event together and not raise eyebrows.”

Zoe could accept that. Having to juggle her life as she did was taxing, and she did enjoy the rare opportunities she had to appear with the woman who’d stolen her heart. “So why do you say we should go? What’s there for us?”

“I do think it would be good to establish contact with Xukuth- I admit, they’re an enigma, and I cannot quite figure them out. But it doesn’t hurt to make a positive impression. And, also, I understand that our dear friend will be there,” the Egyptian trailed off.

“Our dear friend” was code within Zoe’s inner circle for Vereba Batory. Zoe more than anyone understood the importance of good relations with Sevaris’s northern neighbor, and had been working on them for years. Ever since their first encounter on the bridge over the Danube ten years ago, the two Empresses had developed their own particular personal and political rapport. Zoe knew that she could easily treat with Vereba, and it wouldn’t hurt to encounter her in a social context. That’s how we get things done- at birthdays, weddings, or funerals. And at least this isn’t a funeral.

“You *do* have a point”, Zoe nodded, cracking a smile that soon changed to a grin. “And you are right, it would be lovely to ah...be together in a place where no one will cast a second glance,” she said happily, picking up her lover’s hand to kiss.

The demands of her position meant that she and Tahirah had to be careful to be seen as nothing more than an Empress and her first servant; there could not be any hint of affection between the two. The Empress had to admit to herself that it was incredibly taxing. She hated having to endure one dull state function after another without her “dear kitten” near to brighten the mood. And from what little she knew of the Xukuthites, she somehow did not think that they would mind. After all, if Vereba enjoyed frequenting them, they were hardly prudes.

Tahirah blushed at Zoe’s touch. “So shall I make the arrangements?”

“Yes, definitely...just let me write the reply.”

When the Sevarisian reply arrived, it came in a stately red leather portfolio adorned with the imperial seal. Gold lettering on the front in Greek and Sevarisian proclaimed it to be both “Official Correspondence” and “Most Secret”, the latter a clear indication that its contents were considered sensitive. The text itself was crisply handwritten by the Empress herself in the deep purple ink reserved to her use.


Your Highness,

We were most flattered and pleased to receive the invitation to the Matriarch’s birthday. While we have not yet had the chance to be introduced to the Xukuthite realm, we are eager to get to know both it and the ruling dynasty. We are, also, naturally pleased to be able to celebrate the Matriarch’s long, prosperous reign.

If it pleases you, I shall attend myself, accompanied by Tahirah Iskandar, the Grand Logothete and my very dear friend. His Imperial Majesty regrets that he must be absent due to military duties, but sends his regards.

I look forward to our meeting.

Yours faithfully,

-Zoe, Empress and Autocrat of the Romans and Sevarisians


----

As the small jet approached Xukuthite airspace, its two escorts broke contact and turned around towards home. They had done their duty and deserved a rest, no use accompanying the plane all the way there. There was no reason to think that the Xukuthites would try anything; if Zoe had her way, there wouldn’t have been an escort at all. But Tahirah insisted that they needed one, “you can’t be too careful.” To some extent, she was right. In her decade on the throne, the Empress had acquired her fair share of domestic and foreign enemies- all of whom *did* have access to long-range fighters in one way or another. Best, then, to guard against stumbling across a Spanish or British fighter patrol, or a rogue strategos’s craft.

Security was probably the last thing on Zoe’s mind right now. So thought Tahirah, anyway, as she looked over at her. Tablet now laying in her lap, the Empress had laid her head back and shut her eyes for a brief moment. Zoe had the habit of trying to catch a little bit of sleep wherever she could- whether it be on planes, in cars, or, most notoriously, in the midst of a rather tedious meeting of the High Council. Tahirah guessed that this was one of the many things she had picked up during her years in the service. It was almost as if the Empress could will herself to sleep when she wanted to. Wish I could just turn everything off like she does.

The Egyptian shook her friend awake. 

“Huh...oh, Tahirah, just gimme two minutes...”, she yawned, trying to get comfortable in the seat.

“No, no, we’ll be there soon- we’ve just spoken to the tower and have permission to land. Probably ten minutes.”

Zoe blinked as she stretched in her seat. “Ten minutes? How long have I been sleeping?”

“Not very- we were just talking about it a half hour ago.”

“Oh...geez,” she chuckled, “you know I get totally lost. Guess I should go freshen up beforehand, no?”

“Well, you might want to splash some water in your face,” her lover chuckled as she stood up, “it’ll make you look less bleary-eyed”.

“Probably should, yeah.” As the Empress stood up to go to the bathroom, she casually extended her hand and gave Tahirah a firm but playful slap on the rear.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Cheeky girls deserve it,” the Empress chuckled back.

----

By the time Zoe and Tahirah stepped out on the tarmac, any sign of playfulness had vanished from their faces. Both of them carried themselves as women of their station were trained to do: proudly, and with backs perfectly straight. Adorned in a rich purple gown, Zoe walked passed the assembled honor guard and made mental notes. Bayonets sparkling clean- uniforms well pressed, guns perfectly level. They’re on top of things. Although her appearance was more of an elegant mistress of state than a warrior, the latter disposition still showed through. Around her waist lay a simple belt with a dagger in scabbard. Incongrous, perhaps, but it was an homage both her Serb heritage and her status as that nation’s vojvoda. And while she had been sure to cover up her other tattoos, she neglected to cover the one that meant the most to her- the Dragas heraldic eagle on her left wrist, accompanied by the phrases “Sa verom u boga ((with faith in God))” and Sofia”.

Tahirah, on the other hand, opted for a purely elegant approach. While her blue gown was somewhat more revealing than her lover’s was, both in fabric and construction, it nevertheless conveyed her background and demeanor as the daughter of one of Egypt’s oldest families. She too carried herself with the same grace as her lover, but with infinitely fewer martial overtures. Rather, she projected command and cool control of power.

Whatever awaited them in this new yet fascinating land, Zoe and Tahirah were prepared to both charm and intimidate. The balance between those, however, would still have to be determined.

[The Order of Takhisis]

Of the Dragon Goddess's Grace

The boxy landing craft had a rather loud humming sound, as if a thousand winged little birds were strumming their wings so valiantly in the face of some oncoming monster of a storm wind. It was a steel grey, with a thin band of black around it's edges as a sort of trimming. Silver marks adorned it's right lower rear, right next to some ungodly form of an engine, and it's stubby wings that folded up against the carriage itself as it touched down. In the distance, a monstrosity awaited, just beyond the territorial waters of the Xukuthite land. Something that should not be in this modern age, and yet, the battleship of the sky was there, floating in place as it's precious cargo touched the earth once again.

Stepping from the oddly shaped aerocraft that had landed somewhat near that of the theatrical styled transport of a plane that belonged to that of the Batory Empress's, came the form of Diedra Hallas De'Wyren, Duchess of the Southern Hinterlands. She held a regal stance, obviously suited to playing the dangerous politics of the Takhisian court, but also tempered by a military background. Her height was quite tall, coming in close to six foot and three inches, with short blonde hair that barely reached towards her shoulders.

Her uniform was similar to those worn by the navy, though not in hue. Starting with the boots, they were jackboots in style reaching to just below her knees. Flared grey pants were tucked into them, secured by a black leather belt. Her tunic was sleek against the frame, and upon the cuffs were three bars of silver, followed by shoulder badges of a five headed dragon. Across the right eye, from temple to cheek, a vicious scar could be seen. The eye had turned milky white, while the other was the blue-grey that seemed to be the normal for Takhisians.

Further adornment was that she happened to be removing her gloves, and handing a swagger stick to another on her right. The man to her right held two silver stripes on the cuffs. He was about her age, which was middle-twenties, and was no less severe in military dress and stance. He had taken the swagger stick, though his eyes were upon the Batory and other guests with scrutiny. His head was shaven, and he bore a cross like scar across left cheek that reach near to his ear lobe on that side. To Diedra's left, another young man stood. He was early twenties at best, and yet was not dressed like either of the other two present. He was however, Takhisian military. A representative of the archaic order within the provisional services, the Knights of Takhisis.

He was of the status, Warrior of the Lily, and represented Knight Protector Daya's 9th Legion of the Lily. He wore the traditional adornment, which was also worn into battle, of which any allies that happened upon the Takhisian Knights could and would attest to. He wore an infantry armor that included a steel breastplate, warrior steel backplate, warrior pauldrons, warrior tasset belt, warrior arm bracers and warrior greaves all of dark hue to match the helmet. The design is simple with steel studs along the edges of all the armour pieces. Cradled within right arm was the dark steel Barbuta styled helm that matched the armor.

He offered a faint nod to the other delegates, but his primary mission was to speak with the representatives of the Xukuthite government. There were machinations within the Takhisian military concerning the UFA enemy nations. As the trio moved forth upon the red carpet, they were just a blip on the scale of unusual. Diedra was impressed with the nature of the Xukuthites. The horse drawn chariots at the ready, the wolf headed guards standing just so.

" Most impressive.." Were the words to be heard from her as they began to follow the hostess. A glance to the odd placement of metal plates alongst the woman's spine, as well as the inking. It was a serpent from what she could guess, and that was somewhat pleasing in that the serpent was loosely related to the dragon. As she moved, the man on her right, Jochim mused a bit. " Their military is also impressive. Is this not a female dominated nation, how does the Duke have so much authority?" To which Agolius, the Knight replied. " The Duke is a rarity, though a progressive future enabler. He is changing the pace of this nation, so the regime may face change. These troops are loyal to the his House."

Diedra nodded towards the young knight, Daya had vouched for him. Apparently he had served upon a few of their more extreme combat zones and was due to head to combat elsewhere after this with a command of his own within the 9th. Impressive for his age.

[The Church of Starry Wisdom]

The Land of the Faithful
Tower of The Voice
Vice Bishop's Office

Thrana glanced at a missive, one of a dozen that lay in neat piles upon the oaken frame of her desk. Perched at a just so angle, a petite and softly glowing lamp lay at the right edge, showering the glass surfacing just so. Both palms came up towards and against her temples as it was all just so mundane. Everything was beneath her, her status, and her duty to the Slumbering One. If she had to look at one more request form for a trade route from wherever, she was going to scream, and then probably commit heinous acts of blooding upon whatever walked through the doors.

She'd paint the walls red and fill the halls with a gurgling chorus. She envisioned herself running down the long corridors, knife swishing and swashing through the air as she perforated and gutted whatever was within reach before being put down like a mad dog. Probably hosed by hundreds of bullets and then some more for good measure. But we cant have that can we, who would do the paperwork then? Rampant thought creeping up as she sighed and yearned, wished for a respite from the paperwork of madness...

The door thumped open and with it came the lazy walk of a person well used to her own presence and that of Thrana's office. The sardonic smirk, the sway of hips and the mirth filled eyes could only mean Hirana. Lord below, when I wished for a respite..this was not what I had in mind..Slightly vexed look upon face as the would be temptress sashayed on inside, the door closing with a hip bump. It was well known that Hirana ached for Thrana, chasing her for years and years. Thrana had always played the part of the wiley prey, evading the noose of those slender arms and the succulent lips of Hirana. A game they were destined to play for some time to come Thrana often thought.

However the look in her counterpart's eyes said something else. They were glittering with some evil prospect. " My Lady Vice Bishop.." Hirana began, and Thrana new something devious was indeed up. " We've received an invitation. It would seem a birthday is happening and it is non other then the Xukuthites holding the ceremony." Thrana's ears perked! The Xukuthites..well that was something! A birthday meant a diplomatic first contact, and a respite! She couldnt look happy though, and merely tested the waters.

" A birthday Hirana? Will enjoy..send a postcard." Hirana's eyes still rested on hers though and they hadnt lost their appetite. " Oh My Lady, the council has already agreed your the best choice, and that I am the best choice to accompany you as both protector of their interests, and those of your own. Should it be required." Thrana inwardly groaned, of course she was chosen, a Vice Bishop was supposed to traverse the many realms, shake hands with important figures of other nations and spread the will of the Church and the Wisdom of the Slumbering One to all. Of course they'd also send Hirana to keep an eye over and on her.

Dejectedly she surrendered. " When do we leave? " Her words met with the ebony shine of Hirana's eyes, and distinct pleasure at having the last laugh as it were. This prey would be hers, and hers alone soon enough.

Nearing and Landing

Coincidentally, hers alone was a fair assessment of the situation at hand. Thrana and Hirana, together, on a plane, with the pilot sealed inside the cockpit, travelling to an unknown nation known for it's complete strangeness and somewhat archaic culture that was even now crossing into the modern nights. Hirana of course had worked her way into a position so as to be within the physical and personal space of Thrana, who was contemplating jumping out the exit hatch as a means of escape.

A bit of a sigh as she shied away from Hirana's attempts to cuddle or whatever the woman wished of her, and such actions were met with that smirk again and a teasing trail of right index finger against her own cheek. Hirana's words ever soon to follow. " You resist now, but soon Thrana, you will be mine..as well the world that is ours.." That was old news that Hirana desired power, strange that she would attempt to go after her though, there were many Vice Bishops, she had no greater power then they as well. It probably stemmed from how long the hunt had run it's course. Now it was a matter of pride she supposed.

Thankfully the hours of evading in a tight space came to an end as the pilot announced they were landing, and a few minutes later the bump of wheels to tarmac happened. The Nocian A'nshal'a II 110 Jet came to rest nearby others of much larger size and so forth. Still that Thrana had the use of a private jet did suggest she had some more favor then others, or perhaps she just knew who to ask.

As the entry was laid out, the first to emerge would be the raven haired, and equally raven eyed Hirana. Cresting just beyond five foot eleven inches in heighth, with an athletic build bordering on wiry. Her outfit fit the personality however, as it was open waisted, with cross straps and contrasting with her soft caramel skin tone as per it was of silver hue. A rhinestone brooch lay in the center, and it was in the shape of the patron deity that the Church put their faith within.

Behind Hirana, came Thrana. She to bore the raven hair, yet her eyes were of soft but milky jade. She was also slightly more refined then her brash counterpart, simple elegance in the form of a cap sleeved Jovani velvet gown with a deep V-neckline and thigh high slit featuring a beaded encrusted belt following an open back. So perhaps she wasnt much better then her escort, but that was the look that she had gone for. While she had not meant to woo any of the other diplomats, they in turn had apparently also dressed to the nines.

From stately and obviously military to almost as casual as they. Thrana had little information on anyone else present, though she assumed she would find out later. The horse drawn carriages was a throwback and the guards looked..harsh. The soldiers arrayed as they were, and she eyed them, to no avail. Not a one had a name tag or a banner of some sort. When the hostess spoke however, she found herself inclined to curiosity, not only for the woman herself, but the strangeness of this entire country itself.

[Renor Xukuth]

Of Ruination and Rebirth

The Andalusian drawn chariots pulled their guests through a countryside that was sparsely developed beyond what was needed. It featured a wild environment, thick jungle foliage, that would at times part for industrial developments such as the landing strip they had once been at. The road was well maintained but it too had a lack of public travel to it. This four lane road instead had the ear markings of an asphalt path that saw only a certain faction of the multi-house government that was the Imperial Gynecocracy.

Boxy trucks were moving at a sedate pace opposite of the chariots, spaced out by the presence of an armored personnel carrier or a tank. The direction they were headed was towards that of a port near the diplomatic strip. Necessary reinforcements activities that were ongoing for the moment, but who could say down the road that was the future indeed.

The path eventually moved away from that steady stream of black, grey, and blue camouflaged vehicles. It led towards a small hill, of which there the road seemed to stop, but this was but an illusion. The hill's front parted ways, two very large NBC doors slid backwards and to either side of afore mentioned hill. The road continued yet at a slight angle that led deep within the bowels of the land itself. As the last chariot passed between those massive doors, there was a mechanical sound that echoed throughout the dark tunnel's inky depths. Those doors were sliding shut, to seal with a deafening clunking sound. Again moving, the train of diplomatic treasures would again be immersed into a world that was not their own, anything but really.

Within the coach of Vereba for example was the woman that had greeted them, and a young man. He was impeccably dressed, slender and with a shaved head. Upon the right temple, a serpentine tattoo wrapped it's way down about his ear and towards the neck, with the serpents fangs appearing to pierce that area. His eyes were of a light grey, and though young, he carried a seasoned look to his nature. What some third world countries called " Child Soldiers ", but in the Gynecocracy, a way of life.

There were representatives in each chariot. In that each diplomat's carriage was that of a near identical pairing. A young, suit wearing male, with the same inking, and a young woman who somewhat mirrored the greeter. Save that her hair was of a light orange tint, and the eyes were light blue. She had the same metal attachments to her back following the path of spine, but they were not as elaborate as the first. Perhaps a sign of status etc, that might be found out later. The young men were indistinguishable from each other, and the women with varying hair styles and coloration of such were the only real differences. They were polite all in all, but only made vague comments when asked queries about where they were going, why did they live underground and so on.

As the convoy progressed, the darkness began to bleed away, as a great source of artificial light began to seep within. Eventually as the chariots would emerge, the horses neighing softly, came a view beyond imagining perhaps. The great city of Quar'valsharess Elamshinae. In the international common, the city's name was loosely translated into Goddess's Grace. The road led onto a marble span, bridging a massive river. On either side, a city the likes of which would exist anywhere else, was split in two. Though it carried forth an archaic styling. There were towers and mini-keeps and so forth, jutting from between the more modern high rises.

The span itself led to a massive castle, of whose walls were stained white and rose into the underground sky nearly forty meters. It was a layered style, above each wall were buildings continuing on the city. Above one layer was another wall, and another bit of city and so on until what was clearly defined as a palace of sorts could be seen. Great burgundy banners hung from the towers, proclaiming the mark of the Matriarch, and not so surprising, the House of Hiendor amongst others.

Crossing the span, more guards like those that had protected the convoy were becoming apparent. Though they carried swords and the like, there was the modern touch of assault rifles and sub-machine guns. The first layer of legionary were classically armed and the true protection was a more para-military bodyguard armed to the teeth. They appeared just as the legionary at the airstrip, though far more in number. Arrayed in at attention stances twelve across and twelve deep. Two sections like this were split by a fountain, and the presence of the Duke Hiendor, and the Duchess Siefa.

The duo that was synonymous with relations of the Imperial government, and considered protagonists of a different lifestyle within the Imperial Gynecocracy, waited until each chariot had stopped moving. First the escorts disembarked, the females bowing heads politely while the male escorts would stand to one side, holding doors of the carriages for the guests. A special set of stairs was set before each, and at their feet would be a red carpet much like before. As each came down and out, Hiendor would bow slightly, and Seifa would courtesy. We bid guests of different shores, a welcome to the land of our birth. Festivities and delights await the minds of those who wish to treasure them. Our great matriarch will awaken soon and then shall the ritual of a new year, and a new life be ours to enjoy. Hiendor adorned in an outfit much like was at Karthay, a comfortable three piece suit of jet black and a burgundy tie, smiled and gestured towards a path through the guards, leading up marble steps towards what could only be a great hall. Seifa however took the lead soon after.

Your paths are many in the grand scheme of life, but this one I shall delight in showing the way. Ladies, Lords, do please follow me. She smiled, and soon after began to walk away from her beloved duke. Siefa was adorned much as the greeters were. Her dress was provocative, as it was hanging by a bit of thread about the neck. The great expanse of her back showed and there was a far more adorned and decorated series of metal plates upon the spine. She had armbands, and rings. A serpentine tattoo also adorned her flesh, uncoiling from about the plates with the two eyes of an asp peering forth from the nape of neck.

[The Batorys]

In silence, the former priestess of Ithtyr watched the countryside seem to roll past as her carriage, or rather, the carriage which had been assigned to her, traversed quickly but smoothly down the road. It was beautiful here, if much too warm. Very much too warm she thought idly as she looked momentarily to the military convoy traveling the other way. The reminder of the distant war was oddly incongruous in the verdant jungle, the trucks and tanks jarring with their hard angles. Her side of the road was deserted. Much as the natural beauty of her surroundings enthralled Vereba, interrupted only rarely by signs of modern civilization, her kind were not built for this climate. This heat... it would be unfortunate if when we get there I am too sweaty to be presentable. Then again, the moisture would make her thin garment cling, which had advantages and disadvantages. She sighed and smiled, at the circumstances. Despite generally being comfortable and pleased with her body, the Batory could not but notice its occasional failings, though she was one who preferred to take what amusement she could from such.

Moroii had evolved in the cold, in the hard winters of the far north. It had to be very cold for them to even notice the chill, but this durability in low temperatures came with a cost, as it was a tradeoff in the way that most things were. One of the reasons that the Empire had never expanded especially far south, and had taken quite a while to acquire its southeastern provinces, was this sensitivity to high heat among moroii. In adapting to frigid climates, ability to cope with hot or even warm weather had been somewhat sacrificed by the demands of natural selection. Beyond sharing the preference of all her kind for cold weather, Vereba had been a Priestess of Ithtyr before her reign, and followed the customs of that order. Hence, prior to becoming Empress, she had gone without clothes... for a few decades, further building her tolerance of the cold. It was one of the reasons she preferred these very thin, wispy dresses now. Tropical heat was an altogether different thing than she was much in the experience of coping with.

The doorway opening out of a seemingly normal hilltop came as a shock. Vereba considered where she was, concluding that perhaps she should not have been so surprised. In any case, as they descended, the lower light level, and to a much greater extent the drop in temperature, were quite welcome. Within shadow, she stole occasional glances at her escorts, the alluring woman who had greeted the guests, and the young man who had joined her. Depilation in general was not as common or as extensive in the northern and central areas of the Empire as it was to many other cultures, and especially removal of all of the hair upon one's scalp was an aesthetic choice rarely seen in those regions, the young man's appearance therefore striking the hyperborean monarch as rather exotic. She guessed from the cast of his mien that though perhaps not much older than her granddaughter, he was already a veteran, having started his training perhaps even earlier than the Dragon's Claw occasionally did. Even in the dim light, she could clearly make out his tattoo, and wondered at the meaning of the marking, especially given its similarity to that upon the skin of her female escort. In fact, her kind's eyes actually worked better in lower light levels, and when hers met those of the two Xukuthites accompanying her, she gave a warm smile that was darkly suggestive despite its relatively restrained nature.

The darkness, however, turned out to be short-lived, an unknown light source illuminating her first view of Quar'valsharess Elamshinae. A rare thing indeed, given the translation and what the Empress knew of her allies' patron deity. More mixed in era and style by far than the unified and arrogant statement that was Sarkanotthon, yet unlike chaotic Istengrad, beautiful despite, or perhaps because of the mix of architectural eras... and all, entirely underground, making its beauty all the more surprising. The moroii hadn't bothered asking the Xukuthites who had greeted her why they built their cities below the surface of the Earth. She didn't know the details of the Imperial Gynecocracy's unpleasant history with the Rhydinians, but whatever it was, eventually weapons of mass destruction had been used by both sides. However, that did not appear to be the case here.... placing cities underground would be a good way to protect them from many such assaults... yet this city was old, far predating the advent of advanced chemical warfare or rudimentary atomic weapons. Some other reason then... whatever it was, the Palace of Shade was aptly named. Or so she assumed the enormous white edifice they approached to be, at least the topmost tier.

Ah, the host and hostess the moroii thought as the carriages began crossing the span. Still distant, but even at her age, her eyes were more perceptive than most non-moroii's. Of the many banners, Vereba only recognized two, which she found unsettling. It was quite a spectacle, the formation of guards at attention around a fountain that dominated the center of the scene, where the Duke and Duchess stood. Like Batory's own people, the Xukuthites seem to take great care in aesthetics.

As her escorts left the carriage, the once-priestess attended to her own aesthetic needs. A slender hand held out, soon contained a handkerchief proffered by Iwak. Sweat quickly wiped from visage, the small piece of cloth was returned and stored away. Vereba set her shoulders, instinctively straightening her posture, before following her escorts out of the carriage. As soon as she cleared the vehicle's doorway, her back resumed its rail straight posture, though never detracting from the smooth flow of her movements, her diaphanous attire having the slightest flutter, as if moved by the gentlest of breezes, offering occasional glimpses of what lay beneath.

A smile that revealed something of primordial wildness lit her large, black eyes as she descended the steps. As her eyes met those of Siefa and Hiendor, Vereba repeated the gesture she had left them with at Karthay. For a brief moment her head inclined, before returning to hold their gazes steady. "It is a delight that I have survived long enough to honor your invitation and more of a delight that the two of you have remained well, despite trying times, and so are here to greet me."

While the language was formal, the fondness in the Empress' voice was genuine. Many who knew of rumors, most of which were accurate or only slightly exaggerated, of the Batory family's murderous and depraved hobbies were surprised to discover the degree to which the moroii clan's members could be affectionate. They had never regarded emotion as weakness. Simple monsters the Batorys were not, and so had Vereba's southern neighbors, now also in attendance, learned. Not simply cold, calculating predators, no, but possessing warmth, even it was of the savage, primal variety.

The moroii's eyes narrowed quizzically for a moment, focusing on Siefa's back as the Duchess turned. Like the woman who had greeted Vereba and the other guests, her hostess' exposed back bore strange plating, though much more elaborate, and, if the Empress' memory served, a new development, arousing further curiosity about the practice. She wondered silently if Siefa would permit her a closer inspection or not. Vereba mentally noted her hostess' tattoo, scribed upon her skin the image of a venomous snake, much as the secret histories indicated that her own family had used as a symbol, ages ago, before adopting the dragon for their banners. Earlier suspicions regarding the significance of her escorts' markings were, if not confirmed, reinforced. As expected, the part of herself that had not forgotten the training of one of Ithtyr's priestesses, was nowhere near immune from the charms of Siefa's suggestive grace, or those of more reserved, quiet, and equally mysterious Hiendor. An awakening had been mentioned... what then were she and the other guests to witness?

[Sevaris]

Zoe was somewhat amused by their chosen mode of transport. Andalusians...fine horses at that. I can’t imagine the expense they must go to to keep them up. Ruthlessly practical as she was, the Sevarisian Empress had actually dismissed most of the palace’s horses on grounds of expense. Why maintain a whole coterie for transporting dignitaries when the carriages were only brought out maybe once a year? She had, after all, only used a horse once in her reign- and that was when she rode a white steed at the head of Army Group Danube back into Constantinople. Not even a ruler as unconventional as Zoe could resist the opportunity to participate in a triumph as old as the empire itself.

Inside the chariot, the imperial pair looked out on the changing scenery with interest. On the one hand, it appeared that the Xukuthites took great care to maintain a pristine, very cultivated appearance. Take the road they were traveling on, for example. It was an immaculately-maintained achievement of modern engineering that snaked through a jungle teeming with life. If this were back home, Zoe thought, we’d have cleared all this. But they kept it. Just then, a convoy passed by. Both Zoe and Tahirah were vaguely aware of a protracted conflict involving the Imperial Gynecocracy, the Hyperboreans, and third parties far off, and they assumed that these vehicles were to be deployed to the front. Nevertheless, the juxtaposition struck them as odd. In one lane of the highway, massive weapons of war thundered down on the way to deployment. In the other, genteel horses and chariots spirited their visitors to the gathering.

If there was one thing that both had deduced about Renor Xukuth, it was certainly a land of intense contradictions. What this meant for their journey, however, neither of them could guess.

The pair’s curiosity soon turned to the male representative in the chariot. Both of them concluded that, although young, he looked much older than his probable age. He had the disposition of a solider, yet would barely be of proper enlistment age. Tahirah’s thoughts turned to younger brother Youssef, who was probably cramming for university entrance exams. Exams are dull...but to be a veteran at his age? No childhood? No afternoons of just blowing everything off to go be with your friends? I just don’t get it...where’s the joy? She was glad that her brother had leeway.

The Empress, on the other hand, was more affected. Seeing the young man’s prematurely worn face reminded her of the faces of the boys she’d seen at Sofia. Those remained as perfectly etched in her mind today as they were ten years ago. None of them could have been older than sixteen; the older ones had already been called up and placed in with the local militia. No, these boys were the bottom of the proverbial barrel. Half of them barely look like they were qualified on any kind of pellet pistol, let alone the assault rifles they handled now. Grenades hung heavily from their belts, weighing them down further.

And there they went down the alley, to go help clear the other street...but then that’s when the shooting started. Then the screaming began, or at least, seemed to begin again...screams, mixed with the constant pulse of a machine gun and bursts from assault rifles. No, no, no...why are you letting them die? They shouldn’t be there, that should be you...

Zoe then cleared her throat rather conspicuously, shaking her head slightly. Shut up. This is supposed to be a happy occasion- don’t ruin it with your nonsense. While she smiled and politely explained to the Gynecocracy’s representative that it was hay fever, the truth was that this was her way of silencing her brain. She had to find some way to distract herself to avoid thinking about the charnel house of Sofia- even if it meant violating a few social graces here and there.

Before long, the road began its descent into the Earth for the final leg of the journey. For her part, the Empress was astonished by the sheer size of the doors guarding the entrance to the city. These doors made the ones at the emergency command compound in the Taurus Mountains appear minuscule in comparison. And yet, this wasn’t to protect a sensitive military installation. This barrier was instead designed to keep secret an entire city. What could possibly be so sensitive about this city that Xukuthites quite literally felt the need to hide it from the rest of the world?

Or were they hiding it at all? As the chariot descended deeper on its journey, Tahirah pondered and thought that the city may never have been *hidden* at all. After all, to be hidden might imply that the city was intended to be seen in the first place. But somehow, she got the impression that mystery is what the Xukuthites intended. What better way to keep potential opponents off base than by deliberately constructing the city far from public view?

Fortunately, there was at least one benefit to being underground. The sweltering temperatures above ground now gave way to a balmy climate underneath the surface. Zoe and Tahirah were no stranger to intense heat and humidity, given that they lived through Constantinople summers every year, but were naturally glad to feel not quite so sweaty. Tahirah was particularly thankful for that, given her reluctance to shave her underarms. On very warm days, this could indeed present a problem.

Yet this was, thankfully, not a concern right now. The Imperial party alighted from their chariots to greet their hosts, stopping in front of them to incline their heads before resuming eye contact. By custom and habit, the Empress of the Sevarisians bowed to no one- not even to the Patriarch. For foreign leaders, however, she was more than willing to offer a simple but reasonable gesture of respect.”

“It is an extraordinary pleasure,” Zoe said, “to meet Your Graces at last. We would again thank you for inviting us, and we look forward to the festivities.”

Walking away to wait with the others, Tahirah quietly nudged Zoe and whispered. “That was wooden...what’s with you?”

“What am I supposed to say? That was polite and to the point. I’m sure the Duke and Duchess are pleasant enough, but there’s something unsettling about how they’re carrying themselves. I can’t put my finger on it,” the Serbian replied, “but it’s there.”

“What do you suppose it is? Are you fearful?”

“Fearful, no. Out of place...” Zoe said, casting a quick glance around, “absolutely.”

[The Asahi]

The aircraft that landed bore the mark of the House of Harlot, a powerful residence and form of political power within the Kingdom of the Asahi. The majority of it's efforts resided within the central district of Nikkō City and then leaked out through strands of influence to the rest of the nation. Out the hatch of the aircraft, came two guards, hidden by finely tailored silk suit barely restraining the more then obvious military purebred beneath. Mere nods, and then two more individuals would emerge from the depths of the transport aircraft itself.

A latex and rubber queen, sometimes vinyl if one was lucky. Blonde hair slicked back and to the scalp in a fashion that saw prominence during the 30's and 40's. The outfit worn was supposed to be in the image of a business suit, sleeveless jacket top. It was made from vinyl to look extra slick, and a skirt that went with it, especially short to show off the garters, hosiery, and down towards a pair of stiletto heels. She'd just returned from another excursion a few days prior to this one, hands lightly clasping behind back as meandering stroll carried her on the red carpet, passing the ceremonial guard. Though she often times looked just a bit of the spot on cheery, she was quite the Pit Boss for the most part. Steel of figure, ice water in the veins sort of person most of the time.

The other was vastly different in her appearance, to say that the woman was beautiful, was like saying that the sun was bright. Silken blonde locks were tied into a multitude of braids, accented by small silver bells that resounded like wind chimes on a summer day. Exquisite femininity was encased by latex, white to be precise. Such care was taken to emulate distant forgotten styles. The latex shaped into a dress that concealed silken flesh in it entirely but did nothing to disguise that delicious shape. The dress trailed behind her with a train, and black latex clad legs appeared from a slit with every stride. Leather boots of course, completed the ensemble, ending below her knee and tied with such intent to detail. Perfection.

Her expression always seemed to shift, mercurial as it were. There was no sense of restraint, no reason for her to consider that she should censor herself for anyone else. The look that she gave the soldiers at the ready was withering to say the least. What she offered them, was a peek behind the apparent humanity of her emerald eyes. She gave them such a gift, to be able to witness what existed before the birth of matter and energy. Whether they could handle it, or not, was something she really didn't give a damn about. Those that could shed the paradigm of reality, the one which they thought was the truth.? They might have been worth of her.

Her boots setting a steady rhythm as she let one gloved hand set upon her hip, while her other arm swung rather possessively about the slender waist of the other woman who had led the way before. How strange, how strange it was for a simple human to exude such a fierceness, such a voracious hunger that was palpable. She flicked her fingers from the hand that rested upon her hip towards her own escorts. Much like these present, those that served her needs were termed " Cautela ", which loosely meant security, were creatures bordering human and not. Oh they might have been human once upon a time but they had been changed, if not for more then the loyalty that came with such. Such similarities between they and this place, this land of the race Xukuthite.

The woman in question who was rather wrapped up by that thin but steeled arm, was as unusual as their hosts. As her own gifts went, they were subtle, allowing her to move beneath the radar of older, more powerful creatures, and thus survive as she had. Her gaze was flaying those about her layer by layer. Not a word was spoken, as she kept her study of those present. That was until her head was tilted up and towards that of her Goddess, Alannah. " Now pet, be a good girl, be polite." The iced glaze met the expanse of what was, what could be, what might be, and the abyss of ancient beyond ancient. She splayed fingers upon right hand, as she spoke. " My apologies my Goddess, it's just that they are so new to me."

Alannah glanced upon the form of Kanaris, she lifted a hand to casually drape it across the woman's cheek. Placing a silencing finger upon her lips, "Don't speak like that again, little fish. Remember you represent me as much as you represent the Directorate." Sighing softly, she casually slipped her hand into slicked back hair, and allowed that squeaking latex grip to snare strands firmly. "Some humans, have potential to become much more than what their creator intended. But I'm not here for them. I am here to serve the Director's needs" And that, was when her other hand lifted itself to action and from about that slender waist to simply strike Kanaris across the cheek with a resounding crack. "That, my lovely, is for being rather rude to our hosts. You're a smart girl, aren't you? You won't make the same mistake twice."

Her head snapped to the left for a moment, the bruise that might have been there dissipated though, leaving porcelain as it was prior to such. The ancients grip was firm however, so even after her head swung some, it was brought back to bear upon that facade that was merely a mask for something much beyond her own force of being. " As you say, smart girl. " She didnt have to ask what the other was present for, why she was here of all places. This was a new land, a new place to strengthen ties with the Directorate and the Kingdom. Iced slushy gaze simply resided upon the other, her lead one to follow as her position was kept.

She remained pliable and polite as the frame of the ancient had settled into a stride and was content in having Kanaris herself wrapped about that aforementioned frame as a sort of trophy and or adornment. This continued on as the pair offered nods of sorts to those present before boarding one of the chariots made known to be theirs for the ride to somewhere. Alannah settled into the comfortable seating of the lone bench, opposite of the Xukuthite pair that would be their escorts. Interesting pair cataloged as Kanaris stepped within soon after.

The firm grip upon the blonde haired one was enough to swing her about should Alannah choose to, but, oh no, she was maneuvered into a sliding like sweep of her frame from the entry point of the chariot to right below the bench like seat of the transport, to allow the ancient to take her place. Kanaris found herself upon the floor, or rather right before the spot Alannah had chosen to take, within close proximity to the others legs, her form curled up a bit as her pliable nature was being turned against her very self.

She'd been sent for a sprawl, but upon her rise had found herself before black leather boots. That iced gaze didnt rise to the occasion, but kept a downward glance, and she positioned herself in such a way that as the boot came down, she found herself at the mercy of the ancient before her, and she surrendered. " As my Goddess so desires." She still did not look up, at least for a moment and then eventually did so, sooty eyelashes and that iced over gaze that carried forth the sea-water hued irises towards the peering green.

Alannah smiled, while releasing the grip upon hair, only so that she could lean back and peerdown into those eyes looking up. While one leg crossed over the other, exposing the black latex that covered her shapely leg. " Symbols are everything, they are what the universe is built upon. " She murmured softly as she shifted her body, and slipped her legs from beneath her so that they could be brought around Kanaris's kneeling form. " Be mindful of what we are, especially in front of them." She indicated the pair of youthful Xukuthites just across the way from them, and then in turn noticed the cityscape that had become. " Impressive."

As the chariot's pulled to a stop, out came the pair. " My Lady, our hosts are quite something..arent they? " Kanaris's view of the Xukuthites, their technological advancement at a city under stone and earth. The way the people behaved, the soldiers in their finery, the attitudes and the concepts of carrying oneself as dictated by that of the Duchess and the Duke. Alannah was impressed but she was also just herself, and her behavior as ever was mercurial in origins. As they started to wander into the curious place of gathering, she would at times blow a beguiling kiss to some of the more, fair, guards. As Kanaris spoke, she wound her arm more possessively about hip, and splayed her fingers over it. Yes..all the things her dearest pet mentioned, most interesting indeed.

[Osea-Yuktobania]

Skies Grace
OYFRN Vindicator
Territorial Aerospace of Renor Xukuth

Admiral Nevarim strode purposefully across the hanger deck of the rather massive aerocraft he had been aboard as representative of the Federal Republic of Osea-Yuktobania. He was a rather thin man, athletically so but not enough that he appeared to be more then basically in shape or at least somewhat toned. His hair was an auburn hue and very short. Wire frame glasses adorned his face and held back the sea-water green eyes just so. The skynaught Vindicator was much in likeness to those aerocraft deployed to Karthay and elsewhere. On the second hangar deck, a squat, boxy shaped gyrocopter transport craft awaited. It's twin propellers rested upon metal struts that reach forth and away from the craft itself, and it's downwards facing tail was twitching of a sort as the pilot went through the pre-flight checklist as he made his approach.

With him were those of a councilor from the First Chamber of Administors, a woman who bore the last name of Yang. She was of a mildly caramel complexion, with short black hair, and hazel of eye. She unlike him wore a very efficiently and functional administrative designer uniform that appeared to be in likeness to that of an expensive suit. The other was from that of the Ministry of Naval Intelligence. A slender man, he was also an albino. White hair cropped short, eyes of red contrasting the paleness of the figure. Wrapped within a uniform of the Navy however, his apparent rank was that of Colonel. He had introduced himself earlier at breakfast as being named Chyun.

Together all three boarded the gyrocopter, of which the pilot nodded. The helmet worn was boxy shaped, and appeared to connect with the outfit, of which various connector ports were apparent at. The visor flashed a series of numbers a moment, reflecting from the instrument panel and off of said opaque visor. The co-pilot leaned down and peered at the screen, Nevarim could tell the latter was a male as the visor was shaped a bit differently. The glyph alphabet of the Yuktobanian culture was evident as it flashed along.

Guessing it was the security authorization as the gyrocopter's twin blades spun to life and the ungainly looking aerocraft pushed itself out of the second hangar and into the open sky. The flight was not long, but long enough for Nevarim to settle into his seat, slight arch to his back and he popped a few sore muscles for a few moments. A sideways glance saw Chyun appearing to be resting his eyes and Yang was reading a thin book with no cover. Maybe a magazine he thought.

The clouds passed by, as did eventually the scenery, ocean turned to land and then they were at the airstrip. The gyrocopter's descent felt as it hurtled downwards, the slowing of the blades meant that it was almos time for their debut. He heard the lead pilot give the order to lower landing gear and than all of a sudden there was a momentary set of bumps, maybe two or three before the craft stopped completely.

Emergence

Nevarim was quite surprised by the hosts..behavior. The woman, the soldiers without rank tabs or any sort of insignia save one. The grandiose way of the greeting, and then the chariots. As a young man who had grown up around horses, it was breathtaking and he was quite enthralled perhaps by the display that was building. Chyun on the other hand was already scoping out the other delegates, noting some familiar from dossiers, and others who were unknown. He kept his hands behind his back, and merely followed along behind the admiral with a measured, languid pace that belied the predatory nature within. Yang on the other hand was quite impressed and was actively engaged in conversation with the admiral as they proceeded forward.

The pilots remained behind, but the craft was winding down. It's motors already disengaged, the radiant byproduct of the Ragnite infused engines scattered bluish particles into the air for a time. The transport's door was left open, but the pilot and co-pilot were already itching to stretch and relax, while the diplomats did this or that. The co-pilot Trost, a young man from the Betrazan Quarter looked over at his superior, the senior pilot Nara and spoke. " This place is amazing, it's to bad we cant go sight seeing." Nara on the other hand had read the briefing and simply stared at her junior for a moment, tempted to knock some sense into him. " Your an idiot if you think I want to go touristy here of all places. Just relax, we've got some chow, and maybe we can chit chat with the other pilots. Dont stray. These people..these people are dangerous Trost."

Nevarim and company were quite a bit aways from that conversation, but would have probably agreed. Still he was one to admire the small things, including everything that was being done to escort them to a place that was..beyond his expectation. The children in the chariot were of some concern though. Like some of the other delegates, he could see a veteran before him, in both of the pair presented. What was raising a child like in the Imperial Gynocracy, what sort of manner of parent allowed this to happen. He had no answers. A glance towards Yang, suggested she would be agreement.

Chyun on the other hand, he embraced this idea. Still somewhere in his core, this sort of training worried him. If the children were as this, than what was a fully matured soldier like? He would have to ask perhaps, or observe some more. He knew Nevarim and Yang had never seen as such, and if they returned to the Republic, never would again, for such did not exist there as it did here.

All were astounded by the massive gated entryway, and the eventual discovery of a massive and obviously ancient city beneath the surface of the earth. The awe inspiring palace that overlorded itself above even the cityscape channelled their curiosity tenfold, and the sight of the guards, the hosts, and the other delegates brought it all home with a smashing blow. It was little fish in a big pond scenario, and the more that arrived, the stranger and yet more normal it became. One of which was for Nevarim at least, the presence of Duchess De'Wyren. He knew her from several visits to the Takhisian homelands in years past. He was also on relatively good terms with her second who was also present, though he did not know the Knight with her.

[The BYD Corporation]

Corporate Presence
Building A Dream Amongst Horrors

Arun Kantrel stood on the Xukuthite tarmac, having exited the ALH Sariya (Cloud) LCH-07A helicopter. The aircraft had been transported aboard one of few corporate security vessels in possession. A modular and designed naval VTOL carrier designed by HQLT, the special conversion of an Xar'zith (Ice) Class HCSN to be able to carry aircraft and launch them from an internal hanger to a launching area on the surface had been costly but now, serving it's purpose well.

The submarine currently was in the territorial waters of this strange nation, within visibility of another craft, one of the floating behemoth's serving the Osea-Yuktobanian Federal Republic. He'd recognized the banner and identification that was emblazoned upon it's flanks. He wasnt entirely sure of how they floated, or moved, or anything of the sort. The Ragnite element was a bit of a mystery, he knew it could be solid or liquid in form to be utilized but as of yet, the corporation had not done any sort of scientific research on aforementioned element that he knew of anyways.

A mystery he supposed as waiting casually for the hostess to proceed with the greeting and then of course of the journey to begin. Arun was atypical for the corporate asset, he came from a line that had served the corporate well, and was recognized as such. Many in his family were or had been of manager clearance, and several were quite highly placed to serve the Board and the Directorate overall.

He was thin, tall, and somewhat lanky in appearance. Cresting nearly six-foot-five inches in height, his dark hair, shoulder length and parted to the side a bit. Clean shaven, no piercings or marks, etc. He wore glasses, plastic rims of black that appeared to be out of the fifties. The one piece suit worn appeared fashionable, and was of an ivory hue, as were his shoes and the watch to match. Tie of the same, as was the undershirt. He strode with large steps but measured so as not to appear goofy. He had not come alone either.

Following along, almost a foot shorter than Arun, came Dietrik Mueller. He was everything that Arun was not. He was of average heighth, more or less a stocky build and somewhat chubbier than he'd like to be. Baby fat as his mother would say. He didnt have a jowly face or anything, just a bit of a Buddha belly going on. Nearly had to semi-jog to keep up with Arun though. He offered faint nods of acknowledgement to the other dignitaries prior to entering the chariot behind his friend and superior. The additional guests being the Xukuthite..youths was an interesting add on.

The eyes told him many things, but the frames, suggested they were but children of the line ascended that was holding this gathering. He'd been briefed somewhat on the Xukuthite's. Having read the write up for their social customs, the culture and so on. Truly he'd never expected to be in this land, not after having read that write up anyways. This place..it was foreboding actually. What happened in this place to people, yes, he thought he'd never be the one to come here, and yet, here he was.

A slight glance to Arun as through the nature of their journey, the lanky man had not said a word with his lips, but told a story in his eyes. As the chariot came to a stop, he glanced at Dietrik. Watch yourself my friend, these people are odd to me. Dietrik of course nodded, glad that they were on the same page. He led the way, as the door was held open and then into the bright light, the parade of guards, and the wealth of information that came from the hosts, and those around them who were marvelling at the architecture, the nature of their hosts themselves, and the others around them.

[Renor Xukuth]

We bid you welcome

As the guests one by one were led into the yawning maw of an archway, of which itself was apart of the vast atrium that would greet those stepping from beyond the light of the underworld, and into the shimmering golden haze that drifted from on high down to those who stood upon marble flooring. Thin ribbons of red ran between the sections, covered by a see through protective covering, allowing one to watch the river as it gurgled beneath their feet.

The spacious atrium would be of a stunningly classic architecture, terrazzo and marble floors, and four large chandeliers beneath skylights of translucent glass set in a coffered plaster ceiling. Constructed during the first Matriarch's reign, there is enough space (9,450 square feet) to host an event for seventy-five to one thousand guests of whichever Matriarch happens to be ruling.

At the end of the atrium was a corridor that led to the Matriarch's palace. This was under guard, by members of the Xukuthite's the prestigious Vel'xundussa Fashkan. Beyond the atrium and throne itself, lay a place of wonder. The rectangular palace surrounded formal gardens. There were extensive alterations in the 16th and 17th centuries, with many of the original black and white mosaics being overlaid with more sophisticated coloured work, including dolphin mosaic tiles.

The palace comprise four large wings with colonnaded fronts, forming a square around the aforementioned formal garden. The north and east wings each consist of suites of rooms built around courtyards, with a monumental entrance in the middle of the east wing. In the north-east corner is an aisled assembly hall. The west wing contains state rooms, a large ceremonial reception room, and a gallery. The south wing contains the Matriarch's living quarters. The palace also includes as many as 50 mosaic floors, under-floor central heating and an integral bathhouse.

As the red river continued to flow, it was easy enough to smell it's source for some. More then likely the Moroii of the bunch, and perhaps others. Deep within the bowels of the palace, sacrifices for the meeting at hand were taking place. Thousands drained, so that the spectacle at hand could be witnessed. As one walked, the souls of many passed beneath their feet. The matriarch sat upon the throne, and it was a terrible sight to behold.

It appeared to be very much be made of bones and skulls. Lacquered in ebon and burgundy hues, it nevertheless carried forth an ominous nature. It's high back was of iron rods, braced by the adorned ribs of what had once been someone. There were dozens, perhaps hundreds of them placed carefully so. The woman who sat uponst the throne, mostly unseen due to the garb worn. Indeed only her mouth was visible, the rest in a shroud that hid everything else. There was some sort of plaster of paris at work because of the shape it had taken. It appeared somewhat demonic in a way, perhaps as a tribute to the Xukuthite's goddess. That same shroud fabric covered her form, leaving the hands free. Rune adorned rings covered fingers, and nails that seemed as talons extended forth.

Behind the throne and to it's right and left sides, tubes emerged from the marble and connected to the back and flanks of the Matriarch. Sickly green and blue fluid was being pumped within or expelled downwards with every slow draw of breath. Her words carried forth uponst all within her grasp of the atrium. Welcome to the land of underneath, that which the Oracle speaks so highly of those who have come, I greet thee in my name, Valis Xukuth, Matriarch of the Line. She moved her head back and forth, almost as a predator to a new meal. You come for many things, each and every one of you, but all for the same reason in the end, you wish us to be closer, to share your bosom in the light, to prevent darkness from overtaking.

If one were to look upwards towards the ceiling, the mosaic art above would depict a gruesome scene of Xukuthites battling, and devouring one another at first, only to be united, and doing the same to others not of their blood. This was both temple and atrium of the palace. The guards outside had not moved an inch, nor had those within the atrium. Servants however had appeared, brandishing cauldrons of sweet wine, and goblets of such to be at the ready. Come forth, and despair not, speak of what you seek, and it may indeed be granted. The matriarch's voice echoed forth as Siefa and Hiendor came to stand at her respective right and left side.

All will be fulfilled before the daggers of my demise carry forth a new future. A haunting moment of words, as the matriarch need not look to either side, she knew of many things. Truth's, half truth's, and the deceptions of the houses large and small. It was the way of things.

[The Order of Takhisis]

Of Dark Knights

The Duchess herself had seen fit to come to this meeting, this gathering of like-minded individuals so far beyond her lands and dominion, yet equally within such a place. Strange really, that this proven comrade in the field, would be so important to the Takhisians beyond it. What could it do but strengthen them all.

Ahead of the Duchess, Agolius led the way, a man who lived the creed of the knighthood, a devout follower of the Dark Lady, Takhisis. He was clad in that infantry armor, and despite it's service to the field it was decorated further beyond the bare necessities with ceremonial adornments. The full suit of thick, brown leather armor, the surface decorated by raised designs of darkly died swirls. The whole suit covering from just below his knees to the bottoms of his feet, only hands and head being barred coverage.

About his hips was the typical long black banner worn, hanging behind him, the front ends pulled through the silver skull that lay in front of his pelvis, the ends hanging from the mouth like a waterfall of black, the legs of seamless armor visible through the front. Hair adorned that head in a single warrior stripe down the center about his head. A black, scale replicant tattoo slid alongst the upper portion of his face, bright green eyes scrutinizing those about the entrance of the grand hall being led into and the hosts themselves.

He knew some of them, at least by their faces. At sight of the interior of the massive palace in which they'd been led within, he offered a faint tilt of head. The helm carried within the crook of right arm resembled a dragon. He, Agolius Havren looked more set to ride upon a steed with lance at the ready then to be in this gathering. Old and the new coming together, in one fell swoop. The entourage of the Batory were given a more cursory study, then he snapped his head to the right and allowed his gaze to traverse upwards towards the painted ceiling. " Interesting architecture." Perhaps it was to the Batory Empress, or others nearby, or to none.

One other individual, the military adorned Joachim came to rest besides Agolius for a moment giving a few of the other delegates a bit of a once over. Well, our fearless rough and tumble Takhisian officer, and lad who loved sharp pointy things and blunt force trauma was present. Fluent in all manners of weapons, old or new. A former naval commander, he'd met the approval of the Duchess and the Duke of whom she was married to. Accepting promotion to be the right hand man so to speak of Deidra, he at times still acted like he was sailing the turbulent skies.

Two Dwarven iron rings, one for each index finger were the few bits of jewelry worn visibly. Faint glance upwards for a moment, towards the ceiling of the meeting hall itself, following Agolius's no less, before continuing to munch upon a drakeroot. The tangy, burgundy hued plant was in likeness to a form of nicotine, giving one that extra jolt for clarity and so forth.

She offered a slight nod of head following the oddly phrased welcoming speech by the Xukuthite matriarch, before settling into a stand near the center of the hall itself. The artwork was truly something she had never seen before, and it spoke of both chaos and a control aspect of which had never before been seen by the likes of her eyes or to her own internal admission, by any of her people more than likely.

[The Batorys]

The moroii stayed back, allowing the Takhisians to enter first. While primacy was a private assumption on the part of the Batorys, it was one rarely acted on in public outside their own lands. Those who were worthy would know them no matter where they stood, and if the eyes of those who were not worthy passed them over without a second thought, well, all the better.

With them in front of her, Vereba was able to observe the Takhisians more closely. Two, the Duchess and another, were garbed rather martially. The moroii's eyes flicked away from the two Takhisians in crisp military uniforms to the one wearing much more... archaic looking attire. While he looked in some ways akin to a warrior of a different age, his air made clear that he was no less serious a combatant than the other two. The facial tattoo reminded the Batory of what her First Empire ancestors had often looked like. Facial tattooing was less common in her clan now, but they did occasionally wear war paint into battle, wherein they bore the faces of snarling dragons. Her people weren't the only ones who favored draconic symbolism, it seemed. Whether the Takhisians also worshiped an eleint goddess, Vereba did not know, but she wouldn't be surprised. The knight's leather armor was not unlike what her own forebears, in the light infantry and light cavalry of a thousand years ago, may have worn... though theirs had usually been less aesthetically pleasing, actually. Even his hair reminded her of styles of her own people in past eras. The single stripe of hair went in and out of style among her people, for both the women and the men. Perhaps it would return soon, perhaps not. Not an unattractive figure, the former Ithtyr's Priestess felt, all things considered.

In turn, her eyes drifted to others. She knew little of the Asahi, but the appearance of those they had sent made Vereba smile, inwardly. Their attire was more to her daughter's... tastes... than her own, but she was nevertheless appreciative. Though she and they had not conversed, one was clearly the subordinate to the other, having a similar sort of body language to that of the Empress and Iwak. While the latter was tall, savage facial tattoos marking him as having been born to one of the mountain moroii clans, and he walked with confidence, he did so a pace behind the Empress, for while he was her husband, he was one of three. A moroii woman's mate, especially that of a clan matriarch such as Vereba, was to act as a dependable second, and defer to her in public gatherings.

Two of those from Osea-Yuktobania appeared in official looking military garb. While Vereba hadn't worn a uniform in ages, it was always a sensible choice, formal enough at any occasion. One of those two was an albino, it seemed. Unusual, but not unheard of in the moroii's homeland, though all that set an albino moroii apart from his or her fellows was the color of the hair and eyes. The third was a professional looking woman with her hair cut not that unlike the style favored by recruits to the Batory Army. Perhaps she'd speak with them later.

A pair of men in suits, one short, one tall, the Empress surmised, were the representatives of the state controlled by the BYD Corporation. Such a thing would be viewed with scorn by some of her kin. Many of the Batorys were contemptuous of communism and capitalism both. Arch-conservatives they were, and many, in their own words, had thought both philosophies to be ridiculous, naive, and simplistic when first posited, and some felt that their family had seen little of either that managed to impress, since. Vereba was not so harsh in her judgments, however. A corporate nation seemed strange, perhaps, but then, did not her own clan often describe their Empire as their property? Such was often the closest way of explaining it to foreigners, with their short memories, and their confusion at notions of tribe and all that such entailed. Perhaps, then, not so different, at least in outside eyes. Tribal territory was a notion anachronistic to most, easier for many, difficult even as it was, to understand the Empire as property, and so, in that way, the same as the lands of the BYD Corporation.

As the group of dignitaries passed through the archway, a hush seemed to come over the group, as all paused just slightly to observe the scene around them. The architecture evident from the threshold was very unlike the traditional aesthetic of Batory state buildings, though this was not in and of itself unusual, and the somewhat romanesque style gave the entrance and following chamber an aura of grandness.

Despite the atrium's pleasing design, Vereba's thoughts were soon quite distracted from musings on traditional architectural styles. A scent had reached her that was all too familiar, and her eyes confirmed what her nose told her as she looked to the floor. Her kind did have the instincts of predators, which made moroii truly deadly in hand to hand combat, but could be a bit of a distraction at times like these. Blood was more than sustenance for her, in a way that non-moroii could never truly comprehend. It was widely known in the Empire that becoming a moroii's lover meant allowing oneself to be fed from, often during the act, but it was more than that, an altogether different sort of drive and release. The sight and scent of so much of it in one place ignited the most primordial and animalistic of instincts. Nostrils flared, pupils dilated widely, though such would be nearly impossible to see against Vereba's black irises. The sheer amount, continuously flowing, suggested that this bloodletting had required death... quite a bit of it. So much... so enticing, the Empress could not help but think, looking at the feast passing beneath the feet of the Gynecocracy's guests. Where is it all going? Despite the distraction provided by the want deep in her belly, Vereba maintained her composure as far as she was able, though a slight, sudden bounce in her step might be visible to the others.

Though the incessant clamor of her instincts, the screaming within her to hunt, to mate, to devour, did not subside, the head of the Batory clan grew used to this increased yearning, unusual as it was for any occasion besides the Ithtyr's Night celebrations, allowing her to once again take in the sights around her. The Xukuthites, at least from the decor here, seemed to favor the mosaic art form. Some depicted things almost anyone would find innocuous... others, such as the ceiling, were as gory as they were beautiful and finely wrought. Such resembled much of the state art of the Batory clan, in that no subject was seen as something too extreme to depict, and this was the case especially with the works created during the First Empire. Yet these, to the Empress, felt ominous in some intangible way, the eyes of the artfully rendered killers above staring down at what transpired below. Such did not slow the beating of Vereba's heart, however.

The entourage of the Batory were given a more cursory study, then he snapped his head to the right and allowed his gaze to traverse upwards towards the painted ceiling. " Interesting architecture." Perhaps it was to the Batory Empress, or others nearby, or to none.

At being addressed, the Empress turned slightly towards the knight. "Yes," she said, somewhat breathlessly, as the almost overpowering scent of blood induced what was quite literally a form of intoxication, heightening her senses and driving powerful instinctual urges. "It is most interesting, indeed, unusual, but... also pleasing." Her voice, though certainly possessing the odd hissing sound that characterized all moroii voices to some degree or another, accentuated by her slight breathlessness, had a sonorous tone, which combined with her strangely melodic accent gave her speech the feeling of an invitation.

Said interjection gave her time to observe other fellow guests, most notably, her southern neighbor, Empress Zoe Dragas, and her right hand, Tahirah Iskander. The former, while putting on a stoic face, looked just slightly uncomfortable, something that her scent confirmed. Such was unsurprising. The Sevarisian monarch was a stern woman, and had proved herself tough as nails, but this was clearly all very alien to her, despite the occasional visit to the Hearth. The copt, on the other hand, seemed rather surprisingly at ease.

The moroii almost wanted to laugh when she saw the throne, not out of derision, but surprise and amusement at its familiar shape. Unlike her own, an artifact of the First Batory Empire, this one had been lacquered, the color changed from the white of the bones to darker hues, but there was no mistaking that it, like that of the Batory Empire, was built from human skeletal remains. At first she mistook the figure on the throne for part of the seat itself. That the odd shroud should cover the Matriarch's eyes seemed most curious to Vereba. Either the Xukuthite ruler could see through the shroud, had other means of seeing, or for her seeing with her eyes was not necessary. The tubes coming from her body were unnerving, and though this specific procedure was unusual in the Empire, Did it imply that the Matriarch was in poor health? Considering the age Vereba had heard she was, such would be unsurprising.

The Matriarch's words were, of course, cryptic. Despite apparent poor health, Valis Xukuth seemed still able to project her voice quite competently. What does she mean, daggers of her demise? She seems very old... but talks of her death as something sudden... Silently, Vereba watched the Duchess and Duke ascend to stand on either side of the throne, as the servants brought out refreshments. The moroii's eyes flitted about at each new movement, but always returned to the forms of Valis, seated, and Siefa and Hiendor, standing as they were. The scene reminded her of nothing so much as the First Empire, though, of course, the attire of Valis was completely different from that which the First Batory Empresses had worn.

Vereba mentally composed herself before attempting any verbal response to the Matriarch's welcome. The scent of spilled life was still overwhelming, but polite discourse demanded that acute awareness of said atmosphere be pushed to the back of her mind. As she stepped forward, she inclined her head slightly. Behind her, Iwak bowed deeply. "I, Empress Vereba Batory, of the Second Empire, am much appreciative of your welcome, and of the prior invitation." Although unsure of how much, if anything, the shroud hid from Valis' vision, the Matriarch seemed to be looking directly at them despite her eyes being covered, and so while not oblivious to her surroundings, the moroii returned this predatory gaze.

"All of us indeed have our own reasons for traveling to your abode," the Batory autocrat continued. The ethereal light cast a glow upon her features, making the faint freckles that had arrived with age just barely visible, and illuminating the strands of iron grey hair mixed in among the jet black. As she spoke, her teeth seemed to shine, the strange light reflecting off the elongated upper canines that gave her a carnivore's smile, one she was free in showing here. Vereba's voice held that strange, subtle hiss evident in the voices of all her kind, and the lilting accent of the central Empire, but such was no impediment to understanding, as her voice carried clearly without seeming overly loud or brash, even a bit sultry. "Yet what can I seek beyond what has already been given me? Only that which you named, perhaps intangible such as it is, to, as you say, become closer." No further words, as the eyes holding that strangely ancient quality regarded Matriarch Valis Xukuth, occasionally shifting, momentarily, just slightly to Hiendor and Siefa.

[Sevaris]

Like their northern counterparts, the Sevarisian women took the unusual step of allowing others to proceed before them. Here, though, it was more a matter of practicality than anything else. While the Empress and Autocrat of the Romans certainly commanded respect and primacy by virtue of her station, this was an instance in which neither she nor her trusted Logothete knew the hosts. Nor, for that matter, did they know any of the other guests, save for Vereba- a position that, Zoe had to admit, made her uncomfortable. After all, she played host to most of the crowned heads of Europe and Asia- the Kings of France, Spain, and Great Britain, the Persian Empress, Italian princes. She knew them personally and knew enough to carry on conversation for hours. But here? She felt unusually alone.

This sense of isolation, however, was mitigated by Tahirah’s presence. Indeed, without her, she might never have chosen to go. Tahirah had been the one to impress on her the need to “make appearances” even at gatherings that were, on the face, not necessarily related to the Sevarisians. Who were, say, these Takhisians, who wore armor that looked like something issued during the thirteenth century? Or these Asahi, whose garb looked as if it were more suited for one of the many infamous parties that the Empress had attended while a student in Alexandria? And what of these men in all-too-sharp suits, claiming to represent a corporation- who would dream of such a vulgar entity being admitted to a formal gathering? No, indeed, these were nations that had never thought to appear on Zoe’s radar. But in each could be a friend- or at least, a contact. The Empress admittedly gave little thought to most nations that were, for whatever reason, unknown to the Sevarisian state. However, she didn’t reject that these relations could still be of use. In uncertain times, after all, it was best to make one’s name known as much as could be.

The duty of talking to them would, more likely than not, go to Tahirah. Tahirah had a knack for making herself feel comfortable no matter the situation and for extending that sense of ease to those she encountered. Running the day-to-day operations of the Empire had given her cause to develop this rather fortunate ability. One really couldn’t deal with scheming bureaucrats, martinet directors, and grumbling military officials day in and day out without being able to smile and nod one’s way through it. If one could make these otherwise insufferable people feel at ease and that you sympathized with their problems, all the better. The Copt did have a unique ability to pacify even those with some of the worst reputations. She had even convinced the otherwise irascible Governor of Bythnia that, indeed, she would finally give consideration to his oft repeated request for greater oversight over the regional budget. Of course, that did not change that Blachernae’s definition of “consideration” was sending the request to the shredder, but for a moment, she appeased him and sent him away content. That skill, Zoe hoped, would be of use this evening.

As the two walked into the atrium, the pair had distinctly different impressions. For her part, Tahirah thought it rather well constructed and pleasantly laid out. Marble made for an elegant, expertly-crafted floor. They have taste. We should be able to come to an understanding with them. She was less impressed with the size of it all, which she thought a tad too large. Why on Earth would anyone want to put so many people in one space, you can barely make yourself heard. Egyptians were no strangers to large spaces, but what was the point in a space so large that it completely swallowed up its occupants? Space was meant to impress, yes, but should also remain in the control of those who built it.

Walking deeper into the palace complex, Tahirah thought of the Rhakotis Palace in her native Alexandria. Built towards the end of the 19th century as the headquarters for the newly autonomous Egyptian government, it too was a sprawling complex, consisting of many different halls, galleries, and other courtyards. But this...this was on so much a larger scale. She felt that it would probably take days to see nearly everything here.

As she took in the architecture, her nostrils flared with a distinct metallic scent. What was that...wait...why is the floor red, she thought for a moment as she looked down to try to find the source of the scent. Blood, yes,, she concluded. But why? This was certainly perplexing. She knew little of the Xukuthites and their rites, but assumed that there was probably some larger religious significance to it. Why else would they bother to create artificial rivers of blood if not for some larger purpose?

She would have thought about this more if she had not noticed her lover’s reaction. Not normally one to betray her emotions, Zoe’s face, now reddened, expressed a pronounced disquiet. Her gait had become a little more stiff, as if she were fearful of treading on the blood running beneath her feet. Staying close to the Empress, she took her hand and leaned in, whispering in her partner’s native Serbian:

“Do you want to sit? You look upset.”


“I’m not, I’m not, no. It’s just...I’m not used to this. Not used to so much of it. You know I don’t get queasy, but now? I just feel sick.”

Tahirah gripped her partner’s hand a little more. “Are you going to be alright if we go in? I’m sure we can find somewhere to sit for a while until you’re feeling a little more...”

Zoe cut her off. “No! This isn’t going to get the better of me. I can’t let it, anyway- I’m not going to look weak in front of everyone here. Especially Vereba- what would she think if she saw me spooked like this? No...this is just...bad memories. I’ve felt them the whole time.”

The Copt stopped, staring her lover directly in the eyes. “Tell me. You know you’ll feel better. if you do.”

Her imperial lover sighed, shaking her head. “It’s the same damn thing I talk about every time, you know that. Why go over it again?”

“Because,” Tahirah sighed, “I don’t want you going in there if you’re still as upset as you are. You look...well, only a little,” she corrected herself. In addition to reddened cheeks, the Empress now suffered from slightly reddened, watery eyes as well. Anyone looking- save for those who might be able to detect her scent- would think that she was simply going through a bad case of hay fever. Yes, in summer, Zoe sometimes found her sinuses getting agitated. But that wasn’t the case today. No, today, it was a case of memories that she could not entirely shake.

“I’ll pass- heat, hay fever, it’s believable. And this is stupid. It’s done and over with- I survived, I’m here. It’s more embarrassing than anything else....so fucking stupid,” she spat, shaking her head.

Tahirah frowned, saddened by the sight. Speaking softly, she reassured her. “You know you can tell me. It’s what I’m here for.”

Without thinking, Zoe embraced her Egyptian lover once more, this time laying her head in the crook of her neck and fighting back tears. “The blood brings back memories- so many memories.”


-----------


Sounds of assault rifles and exploding mortar shells in the square below were perfect accompaniment for the Imperial Guard’s entrance onto the top floor of Thrace Bank’s headquarters. More than an hour ago, the Guard had started its conquest of the building in typical fashion. The men of the 4th Tourma did not, as one might expect, carefully ambush and surround their enemies, smoking them out first. Instead, they did what the Guard was famous for: assaulting on all sides. After successive bayonet charges, constant fire from supporting machine guns, and breaching the rear door, they’d cleared the lobby. But then there was the matter of the other seven floors. Thus they fought their way up the stairs, across each hallway, and through each room. Some of the men were surprised that the building hadn’t blown up yet. Hyperborean sappers had a nasty reputation for rigging traps in settings like this; 5th Tourma found that out the hard way last night.

The Guards’ leader, however, was not surprised by this. Zoe knew that the enemy had appropriated the bank for use as a communications center, and was not going to risk blowing up a useful assets. Besides, even if they had wanted to blow the building to smithereens, they simply didn’t have the personnel. Light infantry screens had been engaging sappers all morning wiring bridges. They’d not waste their time here, particularly on a building of some small historical value like the Bank. One could say what one liked about the Hyperboreans, but they certainly weren’t cultural cretins.

Zoe put these thoughts out of mind as she led her squad through the building. Young though she was, the Empress was determined to show all of her soldiers- whether those here or those stuck in the reserves in Constantinople- that she was as able to command as any man would be. That, after all, was why she was fighting on the streets of Sofia in the first place. The conviction of a few general officers that she, by mere virtue of her genitalia, was unfit to rule created a political crisis that paralyzed the nation. And, as she could have told anyone at the time, the “Northern Dragon” sensed that paralysis and tried to take advantage of it. Thus the present war. From Belgrade to Bourgas, Hyperborean troops roamed the countryside and laid siege to some of the Sevarisians Empire’s most valuable cities. Sofia was the lynchpin of the whole operation; it was where the two prongs of the assault were supposed to meet. It was also the lynchpin of Zoe’s counterassault. If she could hold Sofia, then there was no chance the Hyperboreans could regroup and continue the offensive. They’d have to abandon the war...And save my ass in the process. But let’s get through this alive first, eh?

Before long, the end was in sight. The only floor left to clear was the top, which in peacetime held the offices of the bank’s directors, and presently held a mix of radio operators and their escorts. Much as they had done with the preceding floors, the Sevarisians methodically cleared the area room by room. Their opponents fought well as expected, and forced the Sevarisians to fight for each square foot. Both sides took heavy casualties; bodies fell amidst the hail of automatic rifle fire and the shock of exploding grenades. After a few minutes, it was all over. The only sound that could be heard on the floor were again the mortars and machine guns from the streets below. Inside, if even for a moment, it appeared that the end of the war was in sight.

Cognizant of this, Zoe smiled as she stood up from prone and took survey of the position. “Ivanishvili- take a squad and go up top, make sure there’s no surprises,” she said to one of her dutiful sergeants. She then eyed the captured radio- it was still active, and might be useful yet.“Malinescu”, she called to the tourma’s radio operator, “get on the comms and see if you can figure out what’s going on. I want to know whether or not we’ve got the bastards on the run yet.”

Just as she peered out what were once windows, she saw a trio attack jets fly low overhead. Those screams were unmistakable: they were Naibandyan N-9s, the Empire’s all-purpose attack craft. If they’re flying those, we’ve still got airspace contested. Good. Now they’ll be opening up... Just as she thought, she heard the chain guns open up in tandem with rockets. We’ve got them falling back....unless we’re sending them on a fool’s errand.

Malinescu then reported back, relying on his knowledge of the common Hyperborean tongue to parse what sounded like panicked reports. He beamed as best as an exhausted man could: “Ma’am, we’ve done it. They’re falling back towards the northbound highway- we’ve won.”

Cheers went up across the room- but strangely, not from the Empress. She instead nodded with a half-smile. “Thank you. Keep listening for anything else...Kasrani, come with me,” she called to her faithful aide-de-camp. The Assyrian followed her over to a table strewn with maps, and a body.

“I need you to forwards some dispatches to headquarters- there is, of course, the customary order of the day, and the more practical question of what to do next. These maps should give us a clue of what Siras might be thinking...”

Like she had done for the past few days, Zoe rather non-chalantly began to move the body off the table. But then something struck her, something that she hadn’t noticed on any of the dozens of bodies she’d had to move before now. Turning the corpse around, she saw an object around the deceased’s neck that made her heart sink into her stomach: a simple wooden three-bar cross, much like her own. The deceased- who couldn’t have been more than twenty, only a few years older than her own son- was an Orthodox Christian just like her.

Objectively, she knew that this was inevitable. Orthodox had fought under the Batorys’ banner for centuries, and would do so in the future. But knowing that in her arms lay one of God’s children that she was called to protect brought the war home. What was the point of all of this? It was easier to think of the affair as the propagandists would have it, as a conflict between Christian civilization and the vampiric hordes north of the Danube. That image, though, flew out the window with this poor young man. He too was just a “good Christian soldier” doing his duty for his own country, even though that meant taking up arms against his brothers in Christ.

And then there was the blood. Zoe had inadvertently placed her right hand near a bullet wound and soon felt it covered in blood. Worse still, she could smell it. Her senses had ignored it over the past few days- but now, it was overwhelming. Was this the price of victory? Not just the literal blood on her hands now, but all of the blood that her soldiers had spilled throughout this city. She could not even begin to imagine what the body count would be at the end of the day.

Thus, she stared at the face of this unknown young man- horrified by the thought that her own bullet may have struck and killed him, but even more horrified by the knowledge that there were thousands more like him on both sides, laying in pools of blood.

This is how my rule begins, in a sea of blood...


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


Tahirah listened to her lover’s tale faithfully. She had standard responses she could bring to bear for this one: “You’ve done so much more in the past twelve years- the war’s behind you”, “You ended the war and stopped any other ones like it in the future”, and, perhaps most direct, “What’s done is done. We’ve said our pannikhidas for the dead, let’s go help the living.”

But tonight’s response was a little different. Hugging her love once more, Tahirah spoke calmly. “But this blood isn’t blood that you’ve spilled. It’s part of the Xukuthite way- it is as natural for them as it is for us to bottle wine for the Eucharist. And remember- the blood that you did spill at Sofia is what allows us to be here tonight. It’s what allows us to stand tall with all of these strangers. Don’t forget that.”

Zoe nodded, wiping her eyes. “You’re right, you’re right. I just have to ignore it as best I can...God help me,” she said as she got up, sniffling as she wiped the tears from her face. “But it’s not so bad, I guess,” cracking a half smile, “just a touch of hay fever- probably that ride through the jungle.”

Tahirah smiled as she again took the Empress on her arm. You’re not a quitter. That’s why I love you. “Probably was. I’m feeling a bit of it too.”


The pair walked into the grand throne room, where both were surprised by the sight presented. At first, neither of them could recognize the Xukuth Matriarch as a distinct figure on the throne. Both instead thought that she could, perhaps, be behind it, or that there was some other theatre to take place. Vereba’s approach with one of her consorts suggested that this was not the case and that the matriarch was located somewhere on the throne, albeit hidden behind a shroud. Tahirah could appreciate the ceremony, but wondered where the majesty lay in being enthroned with tubes lodged in one’s body. She gathered that the matriarch was ill in some way, but questioned whether or not the public display of it was warranted. It looks like she’s been crucified on the throne- how does she withstand the pain?


Zoe, whose face was now clear of all but a slight reddish tinge in her eyes, approached the throne and inclined her head before the matriarch. Tahirah performed a deep curtsey as the Empress spoke. She had to adlib her response more than she would have thought, as the Matriarch’s words were admittedly vague. What exactly they sought from her beyond the beginning of a positive relationship, she couldn’t guess. She was even more lost about the “daggers of demise”- what on Earth did this mean?

“Your Majesty, as Empress and Autocrat of all the Sevarisians and Romans, permit me to express my deep gratitude for inviting us here on this auspicious occasion. I can only hope that this gathering,” she said, looking also to the younger figures that now flanked the Matriarch, “will mark the start of a fruitful relationship between our domains. You will find, I trust, that we Dragases pride ourselves on keeping our promises- and that we can be faithful friends if one wills it.”

[The Church of Starry Wisdom]

The Coiled Sleeper

Within the grandness of the Xukuthite palace, Thrana came to a bit of an understanding. She pushed the uncomfortable nature of Hirana being wrapped about her frame like some sort of serpent around a dying prey. The interior was overwhelming and familiar to a degree all at once. The artificial river of vitae for example was beyond measure, beyond what she expected. By all accounts the Xukuthites were of a background that was rich in it's dark history. She knew that they were slavers, raiders of lands far and wide beyond their borders. Even so, this was beyond just raiding and pillaging. This was a constant stream, a sense of human loss was apparent. These were no longer men and women here, in this place. They were but shadows pulling the strings of flesh marionettes.

Through it all there seemed to be a great deal of familiarity between several parties and the hosts of this gathering. The Matriarch however was off putting not just to herself mind you, but seemingly on many of those present. Coupled with the artwork, the grotesque and mesmerizing styles that adorned the ceiling and the walls in seamless fashion. It was terrible and awe inspiring all in one fell swoop and gesture. Thrana studied it for a time, the history spoken through the paintbrush was immense as it was faintly disturbing.

That she should be so disturbed sent a shiver down her arms, of which Hirana noticed. The other woman demurely laced a kiss against the collarbone for a brief moment before whispering into the left ear. " They do like to paint a pretty picture dont they? " She asked of Thrana while the Vice-Bishop reacted more strongly than Hirana might have. There were other pressures of course, so perhaps it might have shaken one and not the other as it happened now. Hirana spoke again, while her hands trailed here and there, and she used her own mass to propel Thrana closer towards the grouping of delegates. " Mm..time for the show sweet prey. Do us proud."

Thrana would normally have recoiled from the strong display from Hirana, however it had the opposite effect now. She was tempered by the public display, gaze trailing from the art, to those about and before the throne of the Matriarch. Her attitude changed and she became once more in the zone, away that she must reflect the Church as much as she must represent herself properly. If she failed, she risked the wrath of the Slumbering One in the afterlife and more than a constant reminder of her failure in as much time as she would have amongst the living.

Thrana stepped free of the grasp, it seemingly melted away, perhaps Hirana could sense the change in her. She didnt know herself, only that as she came to rest amongst her peers, shoulder to shoulder as it were, she offered a faint bow. Hands coming together in a sort of clasping motion, fingers forming a diamond shape. " I Thrana Kranden, Vice Bishop of the Church and His Lordship, The Slumbering One, thank you for the invitation to your lands, and look forward to a promising relationship."

[The Asahi]

The intrigues of the court, this Palace of Shade, it was everything that she had hoped it would be. Already before Alannah's eyes, those deep pools of calamity, the vastness of the Xukuthite culture stretched before her. She could hear every gurgling sound that the river of red made beneath their very feet, the shock and awe tactic that it was against the other diplomats. Though not all of them of course, some notable examples included the strange Takhisian's, the rumored favorites The Batory's, and those of the Church of the Slumbering One.

Oh she'd have to keep an eye on the Sisters, yes those could be a troublesome duo for her later down the road. However, with Kanaris securely within her grasp, they were spared her withering eyes for the time being. Instead, they resided upon..the figure upon the throne not so distant from their position. The hooded visage, the strange tubes filled with even stranger fluid. The sing-song voice that seemingly echoed about the interior of this so lavishly decorated hall.

As she slithered between friend and perhaps foe alike, Alannah uncoiled herself from about the supporting frame of Kanaris. As she snapped her fingers briskly, Kanaris slid forward, soft steps in almost a sliding like gesture. She clasped her hands together, fingers arranging themselves in a diamond formation at the heart of her chest as she bowed slightly. " I present the Goddess Alannah, Representative of the Directorate of Foreign Affairs serving the Kingdom of the Asahi." She paused a moment so that all eyes would be upon the woman done up in such form fitting latex, of whom didn't even bat an eyelash as such would come to her anyways, or so her confidence would assume.

" I am Kanaris, servitor of the Goddess Alannah, and of the Directorate. We bring tidings of good fortune and seek erstwhile relationships with the Imperial Gynecocracy." Her words slid forth as honeyed sweetness, before drifting backwards, once more into the waiting and possessive grasp of Alannah's hands. Said hands were once more securely in place about the waist and hips, with soft words teasing the left ear, just above the lobe.

" Good girl." A flush of red appeared upon those porcelain cheeks for a moment before the flare up chilled back to the smooth and sleek ivory of before. " Ever do I serve." Spoken as sooty eyelashes were drawn downwards, and all for show or was it? They cared not obviously for the others in the hall, but then again, this was the land of the Xukuthites. This by all accounts read, was the norm.

It was the main reason the Directorate had been so keen to establish relations. It held so many tenants of structure with the Kingdom that it simply could not be passed up. Such was almost prophecy, and if any of the seers of old had lived to this day, they would have been crowing about the emergence, the great arrival of another who viewed the world as they. It was like walking through the mirror to see another version of oneself, to some extent.

[The BYD Corporation]

Corporation of Slaughter

Arun Kantrel stood in awe of the Matriarch, and the sheer fallacies of keeping up a river of..well a river of blood. He was well versed in the logistics of the assets that the Xukuthites wasted. The corporation facilitated a good number of the deals that had led to the demise of so many. Their hands, their pens, all soaked in crimson, through and through. He felt, vaguely mired in all that was this corruption, this strange place filled with so much tragedy. Assets unknown having been drained and casually tossed aside as mere chaff to the wind.

He kept his feelings within, behind the wall of a bleak facade, so that the predators would remain oblivious. A slight tip of head, right palm just below heart as he offered a greeting. In the name of the Directorate, The Chairman, and The Corporation, bid you thanks for inviting us to your galla Mademoiselle Matriarch

As Arun addressed the leader of the nation that had invited them so, Dietrik also formed a bow, though not as sharp on the incline as his superiors. His view of this place, was that the land of the Xukuthites bore a people of vipers. Strange rituals, customs and religious beliefs had propagated in this land for centuries and or had already been well in place. There were rumors, stories that the Xukuth had not always been in this particular place. How much stock he took in such though was fairly low, and he had no desire to learn if rumor was true, or if it was just a way for one of them to get in close.

Dietrik casually glanced about after a time, though not leaving the side of his superior, or at least not beyond reach of such. Dressed as he was, he was not going to be someone in the shadows either. The brilliant white of the corporate diplomat was made to have them stand out, to be associated with both positivity and cooperation. The latter more for the corporation, the primary for the work revolving the variety of personalities one might encounter beyond the veil of the business environment of home.

After Arun's greeting, he was aware of some dislike coursing about the interior of the hall. While he couldnt place it on any one particular person, he would imagine for the nation's that be, that any corporation being involved in a diplomatic summit, was hardly protocol. This was a place for the monarchies, the federalists, the dictators and the republics to convene. Such a homeland as theirs was probably seen as an affront. A difficult position to work from, but than again, if it was easy, it would not be worth doing.

[Renor Xukuth]

Ragged Does The Wind Blow
They came forth from the shadows,
Eyes hungry, Mouths Agape,
We have no name for them,
But they call themselves Xukuthites. Excerpt, Jethnea'la Records

Valis was quiet during the words spoken by the guests to the place of which she ruled from. As the din of these voices grew silent, she thrust herself upwards, rising from the throne. She was a slender woman, not overly bony, but she did look a bit decrepit all the same. The tubing rose with her, and even had a bit of lax as she stepped forth and down from afore mentioned throne. I hear many things, some that are not words. The beating of many hearts, the fear and discomfort rolled into one of others. She spoke in that same voice, the one that seemingly echoed about the hall and then she began to walk, strolling from the throne, and towards the center of the hall itself.

As she passed the Corporation representatives,there was a pause in movement. Her veiled upper face was not seen, but the mouth curled in almost a smile. Seemingly predatory at that. Yours is most palpable. She let the words hang there, and then spoke though she did not turn her heads towards them specifically. Your fear is well founded. The blood of my people is violent, narcissistic, cruel, on a level you have never been exposed to. Still, as you are within the bosom of our need, having done us a favor when asked, something worthy of being included. For this, you will be spared, all those present are in turn spared.

What did she mean, was she capable of delving her talon like hands into the flesh of another and ripping free the still beating heart while the individual it belonged to wailed a death gurgle of a gasp to collapse upon the floor? Yes, yes she was capable of that, even in her ripe old age, being what it was. This was the power of the Matriarch's. Her steps were mirrored by the tubing uponst the floor, nearly hidden from sight by the trailing edges of the adornment she so wore.

The Batory, becoming as one within us, and we within you. The machinations of the Hiendor are not beyond my knowledge. Such treachery to the rule of mine. Commendable. Though she lacked vision behind the cloth, the Matriarch was looking directly towards those that hailed from such a land. The Batory Empress was quite something, and she casually wetted her lips as she stood there before the Moroii woman. Does the scent of the souls beneath your feet make you desire such a thing? The paintings eyes were now upon the woman addressed. The Matriarch continued, I to, know this delightful pleasure, it is the nature of the inner beast that drives us so, is it not?

She continued, offering a gesture of her arm. Do walk with me my dear, that my faithful so are taken with you, it must be for a reason. The path taken or rather suggested by the Matriarch would lead towards a corridor some distance away, and what would appear to be but a wall. The matriarch's voice then reached out again, as if it came from the very walls itself.All of you, do come along. We have quite the sight to see. The voice coupled with the eyes of the paintings that seemed if one were to pay attention, stay with the guests at all times, no matter the angle. It could be quite disconcerting to some.

Seifa at this time, slithered up to some of those not mentioned. Specifically the Asahi representatives, and those of the Sevarisians. My Matriarch means not to be rude, but she is fascinated by that of Verebra and our machinations have taken her attentions. Worry not, I shall be your guide should you desire such. The woman who had been there to greet them, she moved as if she were ethereal, fluid, and relaxed. Her attire was suggestive and yet a bit of modesty, or perhaps Xukuthite modesty at that. Her opposite, the Duke and her mate was making himself present to the Cultists, Yuktobanians, and those of the Takhisians at the same time.

Hiendor had offered a bow and a dip of the fedora so worn before casually jumping into conversation with both the Admiral of the Yuktobanian delegation about cigars or some such, as well as panning questions to the others. He was quite curious mind you, but the walk would also be minded. The route the Matriarch was taking, it was an old way to get to an old place, but then, all roads had to lead somewhere. It was here, soon, that the age of theirs would become a reality, or just another failed dream. Beyond that smooth wall, lay a road to the future of the Xukuthite people, or a blood soaked regression into the past. Only two would hold that key, and they would be waiting for them all.

Festivities indeed!

Valis chuckled as the wall slowly rumbled to the left and the right, splitting apart in two. It was not an altogether pleasant sound, but there was genuine mirth in it as she kept the right hand of Verebra's within her own. The road spoken of by Hiendor became apparent, a pathway that led from the depths of the palace and out into the open, and towards a great arena none to distant. A beautiful garden lay on either side however, and the river could still be discerned, it's presence nurturing the flowers that grew. The blood of ill gotten life, it feeds the grandness of nature. As it should. What once was but an ugly truth, now a beautiful lie.

Indicating that the flowers and so forth alongst the pathway fed from that burgundy river, that those many hybrid roses and tulips and so forth and so on, were drenched in the essence of thousands, perhaps even millions in their time from seed to petal. The road to a new future, it will come with a boon, if the prized son, words not often spoken mind you, is victorious. Valis was not unawares that Atyep, son of Siefa, had come into contact with a daughter of The Batory. Given our nature, most males do not earn the favor of being cast into a light that lets them shine, yet like the father, the son is worthy of such. Her words hung for those also in accompaniment. What you see this day, shall forever be an honor few have ever known. Remember this, for you are worthy of such a thing.

Hiendor is pushing for greater closeness to the Batory Empire, he feels that your people are worthy of our love, how rare a thing it is. There are none else who are worth it, none else they will vouch for. This closeness would bring the technologies of my people into and amongst yours. Militarily probably first, there is conflict after all, and will be for some time. Still, one must always prepare the bonding, a trade alliance is one thing, what we seek, must build the roots. An alliance built of branches will never last.

She of course did not forget those that were present, and she would hope that those who were being led by Seifa and Heindor alike would also be interested in becoming like The Batory. Desired, wanted, and valuable. Valis had little room for those that had no aspirations, though based on the representatives that had come so far, that would not be a problem. These were all individuals who ached for more, who desired more, and she and the Imperial Gynecocracy would give them all they could desire.

It was almost as if Valis was playing mother hen, lest you forget that she'd probably murdered thousands and probably with a detached sense of boredom as she did so. A hedonist whose hands were so soaked in blood, that no amount of washing would ever get them clean. A soul doused in violence, lust, and fanatical intent to see the Xukuthite race empower itself over others for generations to come after her own demise.

Shall we welcome in this new age with the blood of our children? Yes..let us see the next generations will to survive, so that they may set the tone.

[The Batorys]

As the Matriarch slowly rose from her throne and addressed the guests one by one, Vereba watched and listened. A priestess must possess patience, as Ithtyr was the goddess of more than simply lust, and her previous profession had required considerable discipline in many of its practices, despite the reputation for hedonism. Beyond which, some said that the Batory clan did not think in minutes, days, or even years, but in centuries. A bit generous an estimation, the Empress had always thought, with elements of truth, but such sentiments were not discouraged. While her expression remained neutral, inwardly she smiled at hearing the Xukuthite's words to the suits from the BYD Corporation. Though, it seemed, their services had procured them safety here, making the question of whether they otherwise would have fared well moot. What ran beneath the floor made it all too clear the low value that Valis placed upon human life. Not dissimilar from how the moroii's clan viewed such... even, in some cases, their own. Individuals were born, and died, but the clan remained, continuing through the centuries.

Saying nothing, the Empress observed the room as Valis made her way between guests. In the moroii's peripheral vision, she caught movement, and so her own vision slid to its source, the art on the walls and on the ceiling. Whenever the Matriarch moved to a new position, or, rather, even turned her head towards another area of the room, the eyes in the scenes depicted appeared to move. They did so seemingly in a synchronized manner with the Matriarch's head. Vereba's eyes narrowed slightly in thought. The implications strained belief, but then, so many things recently had happened that seemed improbable, but were nevertheless the case. Not staring at any one area for too long, the Empress wondered how such a thing was accomplished, as she could barely even guess at how it might function. Did it require the Matriarch to give up her own eyes? Vereba couldn't tell if the older woman even had any, behind the mask. Even as she mused on this unusual and somewhat unsettling observation, the moroii did not ignore what transpired.

The fact that the Xukuthite ruler's voice echoed about as if it was coming from all areas of the vast hall was less disconcerting... this was much the same as the way the great hall at the Hearth, the Batory clan's palace in Sarkanotthon, had been built, and how that of the Dragon's Lair, the older fortress/residence in Istengrad, had been modified. The Batory matriarch's ancient forebears hadn't possessed modern science, obviously, but they had not been lacking in cleverness and even ingenuity. At the time of the Hearth's construction, having followed numerous additions and remodelings of the Dragon's Lair, while the Batorys had lacked the sophisticated methods to measure acoustic properties, they had been able to, through trial and error, come to an understanding of how to make some sounds more than others carry and echo throughout a large room. Generations of Batory mothers had taught their daughters to pitch their voices to reverberate in grandiose fashion, and thus inspire awe in visitors. So too had Empresses often instructed their husbands, assisting in giving power to their unofficial but weighty pronouncements.

Vereba's facial expression did not break as the other woman approached and came to a halt before her. A single hand on her hip, the moroii suggestively raised an eyebrow as Valis wet her lips. At her host's first question, the Batory cracked a half smile. Her Xukuthite counterpart's view of what she described as treachery seemed... sanguine. As if said machinations had been embarked upon without authorization, but now had her tacit approval. The hyperborean exhaled slowly before answering, her attention once again on essence of human blood permeating the air. Earlier it had been almost overwhelming, though she had gotten used to it. Somewhat. "Yes... it does... though I have many desires, of which that is but one." Her voice was quiet, more conversational than before, given the close proximity, though the black eyes did not soften, seeming almost portals to ancient, lonely fires... dim warmth surrounded by utter darkness, unfathomably cold. A glimpse into another time, the Batory homeland more brutally frigid even than it now was, when rather humbler plots, at least for the time being, were hatched.

In her own musings on the subject, the Matriarch referred to an inner beast... words that resonated with Vereba, as a moroii. As a group, they mocked those who saw a dichotomy between humans and other animal species, so accepting were they of their primordial instincts, and few more than the Batory clan themselves. And yet those instincts were so complex when it came to non-moroii... as the essential prey of Vereba's kind, such individuals awakened the desire to feed within the fanged ones... however, the physical resemblance between the predatory subspecies and other humans was close enough that another, even more primal instinct, a hunger keenly felt rather lower than the stomach, often found itself making little distinction between moroii and non-moroii in its stirrings. Often, being a moroii meant living a sort of paradoxical existence, drawn to mate with but also to devour non-moroii. Perhaps such lay behind their view of the act of mating as a sort of devouring. Such was mere speculation, the realm of scholars, however. "An inner beast we all possess but that some would deny... though myself and my kind perhaps serve as a living metaphor for such... we can't deny such instincts, not in totality, without dying." While some pointed to this fact to call moroii a parasitic species, was it not true of all predators, but simply most severely the case with moroii? Whither the wolf if the deer and other prey species disappeared?

At Valis' gesture, Vereba turned to accompany the aged Xukuthite ruler. At first, Iwak made to follow, but stopped at a quiet word from his wife in Hunnic, staying back a respectful distance, as Seifa and Hiendor escorted the other guests. The moroii, mindful of the conversations behind her, but appearing to pay little or no attention to such, walked side by side with the Matriarch, neither a step ahead nor behind, her graceful gait keeping pace exactly with Valis as they strolled towards what seemed, at first to be a wall. Expectations, that perhaps they would turn sharply at some point, were defied, as the wall split open. The rumbling and low grind suggested that these panels possessed rather significant weight, but all things considered, the motion was, while slow, relatively smooth. The Hearth had hidden doorways, of course, but they were mostly small in scale, for unseen comings and goings.

Vereba looked at her host, with some surprise at what was revealed, but said nothing, instead further considering her colleague's question. There were few sounds other than the ambient noises around them as the pair continued their unhurried progress. After a long pause, the moroii finally replied. "That I do not know. I am flattered, of course, but their reasons remain their own, I cannot presume to know their minds. My kind are adept at picking up the emotions of others, and I know seemingly much more of them than I did when I joined their conversation in Karthay... but the Duke and Duchess remain quite the mystery to me." There was an obvious fondness here, in Vereba's tone, colored by that odd accent. But there was also the slight weariness of a ruler whose task had become far more demanding, and perhaps, the barest hint of sorrow. "Their company and affection was as a gift unexpected, and remains one of few pleasant memories from that time and place. It would not do to worry myself overmuch about their reasons, even if such is the prudent thing to do, given the ubiquity of hidden designs in international politics." Certainly, the Empire had many, some even involving its allies. Another pause, before the moroii resumed. "To be optimistic, perhaps they sensed a certain... similarity or understanding between us, more so perhaps than with many others, especially in reciprocating their interest. They said I had the scent of recently spilled blood... perhaps other things as well... mayhap they sensed I would be more comfortable visiting than most, and that I and my clan would be unperturbed by aspects of your culture that many take offense to." She did not have to name who, of course. No doubt the Xukuthites had encountered those who found their ways... discomforting.

"Yet... I simply speculate. While not so experienced as you, I have lived long enough to know I can be mistaken." Many thought the Batorys arrogant, and they were, but Vereba was aware of her own limits.

Listening as her hostess mused on the flowers being fed from the river of blood beneath them, the moroii nodded. Death and life were not in opposition, but entwined, or so her theology professed. "In death, they feed life... just as all will, including myself, eventually." The mythology of Ithtyr, the patron goddess of the Batory clan, held that her aspect of death was merely a reflection of her other aspects, and had been a conscious choice. There were other, more minor earth-deities in the pantheon, aspected to life, yet devotees of Ithtyr held that only the existence of their goddess made that of the other deities' possible. To the moroii, life was punctuated at either end by an act of devouring on the part of their dark goddess... one maw with razor teeth, the other without. Death and life were complementary, ever taking each other within. Neither could exist without the other.

At Valis' next words, quite the glimmer of curiosity appeared in Vereba's black eyes. Prized son a rare thing, indeed. A commonality, there. As it was in the Batory clan, that only women inherited, the throne of bones only ever having been occupied by women, and constructed, in fact, to make sitting atop it exceedingly uncomfortable for males, so too was Xukuthite society apparently female dominated, though such would be apparent even from a glimpse at the name. The loss of her youngest son pained the Empress severely, yet at the same time, the implications for her clan were quite minor aside from personal grief, and a lasting enmity towards Rhydinians, especially with her daughter. At the same time, there did seem to be exceptions to this land's attitudes, as in the case of Hiendor, who was by all appearances Siefa's partner, not her subordinate. The Matriarch seemed to indicate that their son, a soldier himself, and now a veteran of Karthay, was a similar such exception. Valis' words were ever cryptic, but certainly gave the impression that something momentous would soon occur.

There was a brief pause in the conversation as the pair made their unhurried progress down the path, the resultant tableau, two autocrats arm in arm amidst a garden while blood ran beneath their feet, as a painting of event in myth, rife with symbolism. Though her Xukuthite counterpart's eyes, if she had them, were not visible, the moroii's own gaze wandered upon where they would presumably be. At her hostess' words, Vereba nodded solemnly. While such words could be intended to be well-received, and certainly they were, it was doubtful that one such as Valis would engage in idle flattery. Such leaders had the power to speak their minds. The aims the older women indicated were mutual, and in fact the Batory nodded at the degree to which they matched the goals of herself and her clan. While the Empress possessed sole authority over the Batory Empire, the rest of the clan was certainly not voiceless. Though the debacle that was the Karthay conference had resulted in the bulk of internal discussions focusing on the war, much speculation had already gone on regarding the ally the Empire had found. Plots and arrangements had been made. Secret missives back and forth, through hidden channels. No paper trail, but all parties to such discussions had been made aware of decisions made. And so Vereba's rule was strengthened, those who had voiced doubts at her direction, due to various other alliances made, now silenced, or rather, brought over, at least somewhat, to her camp, now enthusiastically for her plans. Perhaps the Second Empire would one day yet eclipse the glory of the First.

What Valis alluded to, no doubt, would be of some concern to many, but tradition was tradition. Sometimes it was necessary to take the old path, for footsteps to stir the dust of dried blood. There were those who would object to the rise of House Hiendor, as, unlike the situation in the Batory Empire, there were still living rivals for the most powerful clan to contend with, having not been systematically slaughtered. Perhaps it would be easiest to navigate such politics if the Batorys treated these other houses as moroii clans. Then again, there were expectations that came with that, ones that said houses would have to be informed of, and they may not like that. But it was no matter. With luck, the Batory clan would find kin to walk at their side, and for the first time in thirty centuries, they would be alone no more.

[The Asahi]

Festivities

The favored company could not be more obvious, in the diplomatic sense it was screamed out loud by body language and actions so taken. The Matriarch beginning a path with the Batory Empress. Still all was foreseen and understood, there was a bond between these two cultures, these two peoples. Borne of blood, of fire, of steel, and doom. The kind of doom that encompasses thousands of deaths, deaths that matter in the long run of things. Not the sort of deaths that had occurred to bring the river of vitae alive and well beneath their very feet.

Alannah could very well understand such, and was more than a bit envious to tell truth. While such vices were thought not to suit a goddess, it was in reality a very prominent writ and rule that deities were petty in some way. Take for existence her sheer possessive behavior with that of Kanaris. Her serpentine movement of arms to clutch and cradle her dearest of pets. Said woman was even now secured as the pair trailed behind the others, though not to far behind, and not to close to the leaders of this little waltz.

She could tell Kanaris was enjoying herself. The sights, the sounds, the architecture of the Xukuthites was as a wine, and she was drinking it up. Though she could not be blamed for such, her pet did not get out much, beyond the talons of the directorate. This was her treat for all her good behavior of late, even with having to be disciplined just moments after their arrival. A slow lean in, coming to rest upon the shoulder of the woman in question. " Do they fascinate you so sweet one? "

Our latex clad servitor felt the heat of the goddess uponst her flesh, the words travelling alongst her ears and into the tattered remains of what one might call a soul. She replied softly.." It's intoxicating my Goddess.." Her words carried that honeyed sweetness as they strolled down a path lined with flowers fed from the blood of the innocent, the guilty, and whatever lays between both.

Sounds were carrying though, overpowering her words, and her senses. Something was alive in the distance, something primal, pulled from the collective energies of the people of this land, focused and shaped into a singular area that made that slushed ice filled gaze nearly melt it was so lovely a thing.

" My Goddess, it's so lovely..I can hear them." Her voice was tinged with a sort of low sound, the sort that might be a whisper of a moan or perhaps something else entirely. Alannah simply smiled, gently squeezed her sweet pet's hips and then loosened her grip, opting to hold one of Kanaris's arms within her own, fingers wrapped about each other. " They do know how to throw a bit of fun indeed.." That smile slid forth, parting the canvas of flesh for a time as she sashayed with Kanaris in tow.

[Sevaris]

You are in control. You are okay here. There is nothing to fear- there is no artillery firing at you, there’s no small arms fire around. It’s just a party. A party on top of a blood river--oh god I hate blood---but a party all the same. Sure, you don’t know most of them. But you’ll be okay. We’ve done this, right? Yes. Zoe, who had sat down so as to minimize her visible discomfort and slight shaking while standing, watched as the Xukuthite Matriarch wandered with Vereba on the path covering the river of blood. She vaguely knew of some recent rapprochement that had happened between the two, but wasn’t sure of the details. Nevertheless, it did give her pause for thought. She knew little of the Xukuthites, but knew enough to understand that they had a superb military with top-notch equipment. And, of course, they had a significant population and industrial base- enough to sustain a large part of the war effort against the UFA. Some business in a faraway land called Karthay, she understood, one that involved gigantic air, land, and sea battles. Maybe that’s part of why Vereba and Valis are getting on so well...war does make for fast friends.

Now, of course, Zoe was not naïve, and would not have suspected Vereba to be anything but extremely cordial with Valis. She knew the Batory matriarch to be an incredibly charming, affable figure, and would have been surprised if she had been anything but the same with her Xukuthite matriarch. Yet they appeared a little too close for comfort. What could they be talking about? What’s bringing them together? Ever mindful of the political calculus, the Empress retreated into a state of contemplation. To a passer-by, she appeared to be admiring the ornate architecture and taking in the strangely-peaceful-yet-still-disturbing sounds of the blood river running beneath her feet. But instead, she ran through a whole host of options.

Chief among these was: what did this mean for the relationship with her neighbors across the Danube? Every success in Zoe’s reign, whether domestic or foreign, great or small, in some way depended on the security that she secured from Vereba at their first meeting more than a decade ago. It didn’t matter what aspect of policy it was; it could be something as great as the planned expedition against the Caliphate to finally crush the Islamic hydra once and for all, or something as seemingly minor as bureaucratic reform and state reorganization- all of it depended on the guarantee of security from across the Danube. Without the existential threat from the Hyperboreans hanging over her head, she felt free to do as she pleased. This was now truly her empire. The Sevarisian lands were not God’s bulwark against the heathen hordes, and neither were they merely a continuation of the Roman sense of outposts against abstract barbarians. No, these lands were hers to do with what she desired.

What good was that, though, if it wasn’t guaranteed for the long term? Or what if the guarantee she thought she had was really a fleeting agreement, to be observed only so long as one of the parties thought fit to do so? No, that can’t be right. Vereba likes you. Say what you will about her, but she’s very loyal to those she takes into her confidence. The ultra long-term vision aside, that is.

Unlike most of her compatriots, Zoe was a keen reader of Batory history- as told by Imperial scholars themselves, naturally, and not the legendary tales told by Sevarisian monks of vampiresses riding “many-headed hydra” over the Danube to terrorize Christians. She understood that the Batorys believed their rights to extend over the whole world, and not just the lands they had secured over the past centuries. Nothing would ever change that view; just as no one would be able to convince Zoe that she was anything but the rightful ruler of all the old Roman lands. The only thing stopping both of these visions was, in the end, sheer military force. Just as the Franks and the Spaniards could muster enough might to make any Sevarisian conquest a bloody affair, so too were Zoe’s armies strong enough to deter any attempt at a full-scale Hyperborean invasion.

How on Earth could one really deal with a neighbor who, in the grand scheme of things, believed that she owned not just her own land, but yours as well, and that she’d throw you off if she could? And how would her children deal with it? Yes, Alexios would be able to gain the Empire a few more decades- his ‘secret family’ came in quite handy there- but after that? Would all she had done be for naught? Kyriaki, Constantine, Sophie...I’m leaving this for you too. I have to., she pondered, thinking of her other children. She wanted to be a good mother; a good mother never left her children in worse straits than she had been in. That meant preserving the Empire- but at what cost?

Not wanting to continue to appear staring off into space at architectural marvels, Zoe nudged her lover for her opinion.

“What do you make of...this,” she gestured, indicating the rough direction Vereba and Valis had gone.

“This...what? The party? The palace complex? You’re being unclear, love, there’s no column of soldiers for you to point at,” she chuckled in her native Coptic.

“No, no, you know...our dear friend and her own dear friend.” Once again, Zoe was cryptic, out of her fear of eavesdropping. This time, though, Tahirah knew quite well what she meant.

“Ah yes...well...I find it....,” she paused, tapping her finger against her lip, “interesting.”

Zoe raised an eyebrow. “You know I don’t like that word, kitten, it means so many things when you say it...”


“Well, no, in this case, it actually is interesting- it’s not a euphemism this time. We know that our Hyperborean friends traditionally don’t look too much beyond their own borders- at least not beyond a few tactical alliances here and there. Of course, we’ve been an exception to that- and it seems that Xukuth is bound to be another. Now, I’ve not seen much, but...”

“But what?”

“My guess,” the Egyptian continued, “is that Vereba and Valis are on the verge of some kind of grand bargain. Their body language- from what I can tell, of course, don’t hold me to this- seems rather familiar. Moreso than I would’ve thought to come from Vereba, and more than I saw when I visited.” Before entering her current position as Grand Logothete, Tahirah had served as Zoe’s minister in Sarkanotthon. As such, Tahirah had become intimately familiar with the Batory clan’s ways, and thought she had a good handle on them. But there’s always more to them than meets the eye...you should know that.

“You say grand bargain,” the Empress said, inclining her head a little, “but what kind of bargain? Security agreement? Trade?”

Tahirah chuckled. “Well, think like Vereba for a minute- how do you sign documents? What’s the first step in that?”

Zoe was puzzled. How do I sign...wait.... She thought back to their first meeting on the Danube, signing the draft of the armistice. Both of them signed it in blood, a request that Zoe initially thought strange, but went along with for the sake of advancing negotiations.

“Blood. Blood binds everything together for her.” Alexios is proof of that.

“Yes,” Tahirah nodded. “So there’s certainly political ramifications- we know they’ve operated well together in Karthay, so it would be logical to strengthen those ties on a bilateral level. But I have a feeling there’s something more involved. Perhaps even a union of some kind.”

“Why say that?”


“It’s what makes sense. They don’t see the concept of state as we do, never have, never will. For them, it’s all personal- it’s all an issue of family. If they want to build close ties with the Xukuthites, what better way than through a union of some kind?”

“Ahhh...so, if you’re right, we’re soon going to be dealing with a very populous, massively wealthy state in close alliance with an extremely technologically advanced, equally wealthy state- joined together by blood ties. Is that what you’re thinking?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“Now what do we do about it?”

“The same thing we did when we first met Vereba: we make friends. In this case, I think it might not be a bad idea to put out preliminary feelers about cooperation on technical affairs, perhaps joint exercises, expanding our already existing regime with the Hyperboreans to include the Xukuthites, “ the Egyptian rattled off tentatively, fearing what her partner’s reaction might be. Zoe normally didn’t react well to ambitious foreign policy proposals of this kind- at least ones that she didn’t come up to begin with.


“Actually, not a bad idea,” Zoe said, surprising her lover. “If anything, it’ll give the boys at the War Directorate something else to do.” There was some truth to that. Since the Foray, the General Staff had precious little new or interesting to do- apart from the perennial preparations for the attack on the Caliphate. It wasn’t as if there was any real threat of a war with the Franks, Spaniards, or British, and neither was the Empress particularly keen on her son’s continued badgering for an expedition into the Sudan. Having to plan for new military exercises- if not joint operations to distant lands- with new allies would certainly occupy the General Staff’s time.

And leave them less free to think of new ways to screw with me... “Let’s see if we can break the ice on that tonight, shall we? I’d not mind making new friends...”

[The Church of Starry Wisdom]

The Games Little Birds Play

Hirana swept a bit of those raven hued locks aside while strolling forth with a languid pace, if only to allow her charge Thrana, a bit of a relaxed stride. She had noticed that there those amongst the flock that were not on equal terms. Much like they themselves. It was obvious to anyone that the Xukuthites held the Batory in high esteem, and value as well. While the assorted diplomats began to trickle through the impressively created doorway, she gently nudged Thrana towards that of the Sevarsian duo.

Said nudged one shot a look of dismay towards her handler before lightly clearing her throat as she neared. " Ladies, a pleasure to make your acquaintance at this grand gala. " She offered a polite courtesy of sorts before introducing herself. " Vice Bishop Kranden, and this is my counterpart Inquisitor Venaris." Thrana offered a soft smile, though inwardly she was delighting in being able to tease Hirana by the usage of her last name. However, in order to build binds she continued towards the Sevarisian pair of women. " It would seem our hosts, have an eye for the Batory Empress. We are but icing on the cake, does it not appear so?"

Thrana had slowed her pace considerably, to be polite to the other guests that she spoke with as moving with the flow towards a place unknown. It was the Xukuthites after all, it could have been anything. Hirana became apart of the conversation, one sided as it was for the moment. " There are rumors, of scions being proffered towards one another. It could be the start of a dynasty. Two ancient cultures culminating and becoming one." She paused to let that sink in before proceeding. Surely the Sevarisian's had come to such a conclusion as well.

" Borne of blood ties, of binds that create the quell of heart in man and woman alike, in a land distant. It presents a problem politically down the road. How best to deal with such a thing, when even now we are at arms reach with the serpents even now." A small bit of confiding with their newfound..friends, or perhaps allies to be.

That is what this trip was mostly about, building relations in the shadow of the beast. While the sisterhood did not normally take stock in rumors, this one was too rigid. It's stock was based upon the known of their neighbors, and the rudimentary knowledge of the Batory. It did not seemingly bode well for future engagements of word and pen. Slight clasp of hands behind her back. " I am sure that such is..troubling to you as well. "

Thrana chimed in then. " Or did you simply come at the beckoning of the Batory Empress, and we were wrong about you? That you hold no interest in the political future of your neighbor? " Again that smile, though it was decidedly less soft than before. It was apart of the veneer of Thrana's diplomatic facemask. Her eyes alight with interest in what was to be had, and said by the others.

[Osea-Yuktobania]

The Skies of Red
Xukuthite Palace of Shade

Admiral Nevarim adjusted his glasses a bit, pushing them up alongst the arch of his nose with a singular gloved index finger. The architecture of the palace was..disturbing to say the least. He'd been to a variety of tribalistic nations that glorified and revelled in various forms of imagery or painting, but to see it on such a scale as this. Well there weren't many words for it that he could find. He glanced towards the civilian of their entourage to see how she was handling the affair. The paintings were but the tip of the iceberg as it were, the second portion being the literal river of blood, and the inhuman looking Matriarch.

Councilor Yang had no idea what she had stumbled into. Her face was pale, visibly so and she was nervously wringing her hands. This entire trip had culminated into a creep show. The horror-esque environment of the aptly named Palace of Shade, was beyond her imagining. That a society such as this existed, that a technologically advanced people should be..so monstrous. A faint, troubled smile towards Nevarim as to his concerned look as she pushed a few strands of black hair behind the right ear with practiced care.

Nevarim understood, he offered his elbow to the councilor so that she could have a tethering point amidst what could only be called a focal point of some form of madness. His gaze soon enough traversed over towards Colonel Chyun, only to find the albino undisturbed in the least so far as he could tell just by the body language. The lanky man had a relaxed, almost nonchalant way about him. His stance was not one of nervousness such as that of Yang, nor was it displaying a notion of being somewhat or grossly disturbed like the stoic presentation of Nevarim himself.

Chyun turned his head to the right, and noticed Nevarim's gaze upon his form. He half smiled, though it appeared no less a predators smirk as he raised his left arm up, hand against head, fingers adorned with engraved runic rings that slid through that hair atop his head. His comfort level was to Nevarim, slightly more disturbing than the artwork and the personalities of the Xukuthites. He'd have to keep on the Colonel, as he already had little to no information on the man, and no idea what his true goal in this endeavor was. It was a source of speculation during the trip, but he assumed that the Colonel represented perhaps a shadow entity.

There were plenty of agencies who had both decried and supported this summit visit. Whom knew which one the Colonel was from. Only time would tell Nevarim supposed. Yang had accepted his tethering offer, her slender arm wrapped up in his own. He patted the forearm gently, as the trio began to maneuver through the vast doorway and down the path. The sounds of thousands were wafting upwards towards his ears, the stamping of feet, the chorus of voices, and chanting..which made his right eyebrow rise. Something was afoot..