Stoking The Fires [Attn: Gholgoth]

[Emperor Pudu]

The ambassador smiled, "Of course, the aides always hide a fresh pack in my jacket before I am sent to these sorts of things." Otho produced the pack, they were Crusader-brand, a local Pudite variety. "Not that I've been to many events quite like this before," Otho said, half to himself, "But it seems like the kind of place that would make a man want to smoke."

He took a pensive drag on his cigarette and looked over Speaker Stevens. Afterward, with a smirk, the ambassador added good naturally, "You know, I didn't know the dress code was so lax. I actually had my favorite aloha shirt set aside, but someone told me it would be chilly here. Guess they were right."

[Kylarnatia]

Chamber of the Gothic Lords, ULE City
The New Gothic Empire of Automagfreek, Gholgoth

Silvier looked at Anodonis for a long, hard while. She listened to his words, and once he had finished she paced in small steps in front of him. Once done with that, she then circled him, arms held tightly together behind her back. She was humming a tune lightly to herself as she did so; nothing that was recognisable like an actual song, but still constructed a pleasant sound. Eventually, she stopped dead in front of the juggernaut leader of Artitsa, and standing on the tips of her toes she placed both her hands on his shoulders. Leaning in to his ear, she whispered gently, as if like a mother trying to awake a child from a light slumber,

"I concur."

Withdrawing back from him, she smiled deviously, and then almost spontaneously resumed her movements in front and around Anodonis, though this time she spoke - although quietly - as she did so. "If we're both on the same page then, o' great and wise Anodonis, I trust that you'll be able to support my suggested reforms to the alliance when they are discussed, as that is also on the agenda for this gathering. I'm confident that you, as one of the oldest members of the Lords, will be able to appreciate what I'm trying to achieve through my suggestions, which are all meant to benefit the alliance."

She certainly wasn't lying - Kylarnatia, and Silvier in particular, were very much pro-alliance as a result of their experiences in the recent wars in both Varathron and Gholgoth itself. The stability of the alliance was key to Kylarnatia's own aims abroad, as it's empire - as to be expected - was always under threat from far away powers, despite it's constant successful growth in recent years. The last thing the Imperium needed to be doing was worrying about it's own doorstep, particularly because they were incredibly paranoid about that sort of thing. They were incredibly proud of the fact that they had repelled every foreign invasion thrown at the mainland since the full state formed in the thirteenth century, and they were intent on keeping it that way.

Trying not to cough and splutter as she waved the cigarette smoke away, Silvier then resumed. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to break a young woman's heart now, would you?" Her smile became even more devious.

"Now come, let us sit back at the table. I'm sure they're all waiting on us now in order to commence the talks." Then, almost suddenly and without warning, she took the giant by the hand and guided him back to the meeting table, but she kept the fact that they were doing so concealed. Then, when they returned, she let the hand go as quickly as she had clasped it, and sat herself down near the head of the table.

Once again, she'd sat in Anodonis' seat. Though that was highly unlikely to draw the whole attention of the room after what was about to happen.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Silvier's head turned, for she instantly recognised the voice, which had by now boomed across the entirety of the chamber. Standing there in the doorway was the hulk-like frame of Hyperion, blocking the path of the Kravenite officers, who had until then left their seats unnoticed. Upon further inspection, the Caesar could see that the ancient Dux Imperator was carrying something in his hands, but that was not the most important thing at the moment. What was more important was the fact that a member of her delegation was coming at heads with another, but considering the circumstances, she was very much prepared to let it play out.

"Considering the situation right about now, I think it'd be in your best interests to remain in this hall...Reichmarshall." Hyperion's glaring red eyes stared down into those of the entire Kravenite delegation, knowing that those back in Fortress Norska were watching. "Did nobody ever teach you it was rude to at least not leave without saying goodbye first?"

After making his statement, he firmly planted his feet as wide apart as he could without stretching his legs. There was going to be no question of what was to happen: Nobody would leave until the meeting was concluded.

[The Naacal]

Chamber of the Gothic Lords, ULE City

Lerian XII, Emperor of the Enrialist Imperium of the Naacal, observed the various Gothic Lords or their Ambassadors. Like Speaker Stevens, he remained in his seat. Not speaking, just watching, listening. An odd air hung about the Naacal Emperor. Though attractive, some would say beautiful, there was something off about him, something in it's own way as differing from the typical man as the Kravenites did.

He looked impassively as Speaker Stevens and the Pudite ambassador Otho started smoking. They fill their lungs with poison, could never understand that about humanity... he thought to himself. H noticed the Kraven delegation...if that term was even the most accurate, rise in unison and move to the door. He looked around the room casually, his eyes seeming to almost glint in the room's lights, then became more relaxed. Nothing to be concerned about directly it seems he thought.

Information had come in from the far-off Motherland, and from the even further main territories of the overall Mu Empire. Things were starting to move, confluences of events working in unison. The name El'Niath-L'Eral had been mentioned more often-which Lerian found to be rather disturbing in the light of recent events regarding Neirda of Mu. Lerian tried not to think of that, it produced a kind of dissonance he preferred to avoid. There was enough of that in the past, for both himself and for Nialyth.

He thought of the Reich for a moment. The Kravenite State was to him more machine that a union of people, linked with neural technology the likes of which had long been declared illegal in Mu and all of it's territories. He was very close to declaring the Reich a Parasitic State, with all the connotations that would have. For now however, he just observed. The Vetalian leader that had signed the treaty with the Kravenites... were they a traitor, or a neurally-reprogrammed pawn? Until that was discovered, it would be difficult to take action. After all, if the Vetalians sold out their nation on their own, who was he to argue with free will? I did that once... it made me no better then the Reichmarshall...

Lerian had been noticing Silvier of the Kylarnatians speaking to Anodonis with the same detached attention that he projected to anyone who was observing, though he actually was taking note of everything that went on in the Council Chamber. His observations were immediately focused on Dux Imperator Hyperion, whose powerful voice broke the subdued level of sound in the Chamber. Turning in his seat, he took his first real look at the man.

Here, among all of the august personages here, is someone worthy of being considered my equal. Raising his glass, he made a salute and gave a nod of acknowledgement to the Dux Imperator. We should speak sometime... it is seldom that such as ourselves get to speak anymore.

Lerian then looked towards the Kravenites. This could get interesting...

[Sniper Country]

Stevens was obliged to the ambassador. He took a cigarette from the small pack and gave it a quick light. Handing the pack back to the ambassador, he took a quick, short drag before removing the cigarette from his lips. He sighed as a wisp of smoke exited his mouth.

"Yeah," he said gruffly in response to the ambassador's comment regarding the dress code. "I didn't see evil super-villain on the RSVP. Otherwise I would have worn my black cape and cat-eye contacts." He took another quick, short drag from his cigarette before speaking again. "I won't bother putting on a show for this summit," he said, somewhat accusatory as he looked around the chamber. "Everybody knows who we are and what we are," he quickly turned to face the ambassador, "speaking strictly of Sniper Country, of course. No, I learned a long time ago that pretending to be something greater than I am never works. I just leave the work of the Confederacy to speak for us."

Stevens noticed the Kraven delegation rise in unison and proceed to the chamber doorway under the sound of their feet clamoring against the hard floor. Raising an eyebrow, Stevens wondered what could be going on. He was so far removed from the internal strife driven throughout Gholgoth that he scarcely knew those in attendance, much less the feuds driving each of them against each other. Without warning, the Dux Imperator Hyperion appeared in the doorway, blocking the way for the Kraven delegation to exit the premises. At this, Stevens took a long, hard drag from his cigarette, which was now just half burned.

"So, ambassador," Stevens muttered, "how go things in the Dominate?"

[Havensky]

Atticus, for his part, had merely shrugged off the confrontation between Hyperion and the Capitol Police. It was an entirely different set of capitol police that concerned him at present.

Atticus had just received word of two unwelcome events and that these events necessitated the need to revise his remarks to the Gothic Lords. His tablet was in split-screen mode with one side furiously accepting changes to his remarked while the other gave him the latest news.

The first event, he was sure, would become well known to the people in the room as aides and communication channels received the live video feed of the Skyan Queen defying the Reich by refusing to leave the Vetalian Palace. The images of Skyan Legionnaires standing eye to eye with a Kraven Heavy Battle tank and seven hundred Capitol Police would make for...interesting conversation.

The second event he wasn't sure would get out quite as quickly. Skyan Stars and Signals Command had a small drone flying over Kraven's base in Vetalia and had just witnessed the traitorous former proconsul of Vetalia and his guards shoved against the wall and shot. They had taken no measures to hide it. Stars and Signals had thus far only shuttled messages to and from the resistance and had restrained themselves from aiding the resistance through military means. Save for a rogue operative who was acting on his own accord. Even at this time, the Skyans were attempting to pass a message of warning to the resistance - but something had gone wrong on the other end and it was taking longer than normal.

Oh, you are still scrolling away on that damned toy? Relax! This meeting isn't the apocalypse!"

Atticus thoughts were interrupted by Godsend General Jane Romanov.

Atticus made a few hand gestures on his tablet and smiled, I was just finishing up a rather riveting tale and couldn't tear myself away. Here, have a look and see for yourself.

Atticus passed the tablet with an insistent motion.

Jane looked down at the tablet to read:

ALERT: 750 KRAVEN CP, 1 HBT SURROUNDING V PALACE.
QHEART IN PALACE, SAFE W/ ESCAPE OPTION. STAYING PUT TO PROTECT CIVILIANS.
V LEADERSHIP ESCAPED ENROUTE TO ULE CITY VIA HELIJET.

ALERT: KRAVEN CP HAS EXECUTED VET OVERSEER MELNIKOV

ALERT: 95TH DEPLOYED/ENROUTE TO VET CITY.
ALERT: IRONWING/SKRAGG W/ 95TH - WILL SPLIT ENROUTE TO ULE CITY.

Jane, why don't you have a seat? I'm sure we'll get started soon and there's much to discuss.

[Emperor Pudu]

The Speaker's comments gave Otho a laugh. He was here under a similar paradigm; he represented something here that could speak for itself, there was no need to put on a show. The ambassador was fully aware, for example, of the prowess of the Confederacy's special forces. Of the fleets and armies of the Dominate he was likewise aware, though the preponderance of those were millions of miles away. These two simple men were as dangerous as any of the warrior-lords in attendance here today.

Ambassador Otho wasn't looking when the Kraven delegation stood up and turned toward the door; Hyperion's booming voice caught his attention immediately, though. He coughed suddenly from the surprise and turned to see what was happening. The situation amused him a little, he almost laughed until he thought about the Kravenites next move; he had no idea how they would react to this, they could pull weapons or declare they have a briefcase bomb, or something else terrible. Otho was no Dux Imperator or Anodonis; his country was strong, but his body was fully mortal. At least he hadn't worn his favorite shirt.

The ambassador then realized Stevens had said something else. Something that turned his mind away from the confrontation at the door. How was his homeland now? Otho hadn't been back in two years; in that time the Dominate had suffered a devastating war and his home city of Daram had been nearly destroyed by nuclear and biological warfare. His Emperor was killed only months ago, ending the long string of defeats. A new Emperor sat the throne and sued for peace. Reconstruction would take decades.

"We're persevering. The Dominate will return stronger than ever. Emperor Dengmu wishes he could have come himself, but the business in the capital is endless and he needs to keep a firm hand now, at the start of what will be a long reign, sons willing." Otho took a drag from his cigarette and realized it was burned to the filter. "Sorry," he said to the Speaker, "It's hard, you know, to carry that with you all this time. Here in Gholgoth the Pantokratocracy is strong as ever. Governor Lartius and I in Shen Almaru stand ready to represent our country here, in the alliance." He changed the subject then, "Speaker, with the Confederacy so close to the situation in Vetalia right now, surely you must have something to say on the matter? I'd be interested to know where you fall on the issue."

Little known to the ambassador, of course, was that even here in faraway Gholgoth the treachery of that late war would soon arise.

[Jagada]

The Jagites were late ... hell they were always late. It was beginning to become something of a fashion trend for the Matriarchy. Commissioner Lex continued down the baroque halls of the Council Chambers, he pondered whether or not the Jagites constantly tardiness to any and every event was apart of some well crafted plan by the Matriarch or something less esoteric. He was not flanked by guards as some of the delegations might have been because he knew exactly what was going to occur within the halls. There was the constant threat of the Reich and some of the security advisors had practically begged him to allow at least an honor guard but he waved them off. Not even the Reich, in its supreme arrogance, would defy the Freeks and murder an ambassador. Beyond that he was almost certain that his death would only spark some kind of horrific war between the Reich and Matriarchy that would likely end in both nations being reduced to slag and flesh-dust. Confident in that though he approached the finely ornate and polished doors leading into the Council Chambers. He had decided to wear his simple uniform: dark naval blue great coat with brass buttons, the winged phoenix symbol of the Commission, and a gold iron-cross stylized emblem. The Freekish guards at the doors opened them for him and the representative of the Matriarchy walked into the hallowed halls.

The weight of the room was heavy. Lex immediately understood that he was standing in the presence of giants, that a great many dark deeds and ideas had been solidified within these very walls. In ages past blood-pacts, honor-debts, and other things that were largely archaic to the rest of the world, but still held dear to the Goths, was confirmed here. He stopped short of the table and looked around coolly. His hair was short and cropped, as was befitting of his station, and was a dark brown which only make his hazel eyes seem a little out of the ordinary. His built was on the lanky side but his height was not quiet great enough to pull it off simply leaving him looking like a rather thin man. He was no great warrior and in fact had only served in the military for a short time. Myths and rumors amongst the ubiquitous conspiracy theorists claimed that the Commission were all ex-Black Ops agents who the Matriarch had crafted into her personal army. That was, technically, true to some extent. Other theories claimed that they were a secret police of sorts -- again only half right. The Commission was not easily defined and likely would never be. It simply existed.

'This is the first time we've ever met the other Lords,' he thought as he saw the various groups beginning to form, he even watched the Capitol Police moving towards the door.

He could have introduced himself, come across a gregarious and open to friendship, but instead he chose the safe route of carefully making his way over to the high-backed chair he felt was designated for him, or barring that, just picked whichever one was still open. As he sat he set the thin vanilla folder he had with him on the table and immediately opened it up and scanned over it. The Vetalian issue was still present and there had been some communication between Jagada and Havensky as to the Jagites getting involved but so far the Matriarch had declined to do so. This was because the Free Republic of Milograd as still getting established and the sudden appearance of Neo Cydonia between the Matriarchy and the Free Republic had created all number of security and logistical issues which needed to be worked out immediately. The Matriarch had given him a clear order, though, to use this opportunity to bring together a sphere of allies that she could count on. Havensky was critical to that plan and their decision to set-up shop in the old Federation of Allied Governments territory had been ideal to not only stabilizing that hellhole of a region but giving Jagada some much needed close support. Vetalia would be the next member that they would bring into Jagada's orbit. The Republic had just witnessed Kraven's expansionism first-hand and would now be faced with the grim decision to simply allow it or stand up for themselves. The Matriarch was determined they would make the latter choice.

But then ... Jagada was horribly pragmatic.

[Vetalia]

OOC: Cross-reference my new post in Damocles for some background - the Proconsul of Commerce is the head of the imminent pro-Reich coup.

A sudden commotion filled the room as the Vetalian delegation entered. Due to the extraordinary situation in the country, the Proconsul of Commerce had been charged with appointing the delegation and had chosen his most loyal and...ideologically pure...subordinates to send to the Summons. They were as follows:

Anatoly Parshikov - Legate of Commerce, Petrov Province. A thin, even wiry man with thinning hair and a nasal, somewhat irritating voice.
Boris Korenev - Chief Executive Officer, Petrovsk Heavy Industries. Unlike Anatoly, quite overweight with thick hair. Londinian in ethnicity, so when speaking English he has no Vetalian accent.
Viktor Tumov - Consul of Commerce. Medium build with glasses. A heavy smoker even by Vetalian standards, he has a distinctly raspy voice.

There were no women in the delegation. All were dressed impeccably in Vetalian fashion, suits and thin ties that were undoubtedly very expensive, and upon entering walked resolutely towards the Kraven Reich delegation's table and took their seats next to them as a subtle show of solidarity. A trio of crystal ashtrays were placed before the three men by one of the attaches to allow them to deposit their cigarettes without littering. Almost in unison, they pulled a cigarette from their cases and lit them, after which Boris addressed the assembled.

"I apologize for our tardiness, the situation in Vetalia is somewhat chaotic as you all understand. I am Boris Korenev, CEO of Petrovsk Heavy Industries and my associates are Anatoly Parshikov and Viktor Tumov. The Proconsul of Commerce has been given extraordinary powers to appoint delegates to this Summons and has chosen us to represent the Republic of Vetalia in any matters that may arise. I trust that this will be a productive session, and I am honored to know that our friends in the Reich have decided to attend this meeting."

[Havensky]

Friends?, asked Atticus with sudden ferocity.

The tall lanky bespectacled man rose from his seat. His hands moved to button the top two buttons of his light grey suit as he did. The man which for so long had just sat quiet and still at his desk reading his notes was now a moving towards the Vetalian delegation as if he were a freight train. The one word he spoke still booming in the ancient hall.

Friends?, asked Atticus again beginning to pace around Boris Korenev like a shark seeking prey.

I may be a poor substitute for a Lord. I have won no great victories on the battlefield, I have no crown, and my voice carries no great power in the halls of my government. I am but the people’s humble servant. However, even my ears can detect a lie when I hear it., Atticus' eyes became lasers drilling into Boris.

Atticus turned to address the other Lords.

My Lords, does anyone really believe this man? Mere hours ago, his friends in the Reich executed twelve Vetalia citizens in their own capital. Their friends in the Reich have laid siege to their own Presidential Palace. Thier friends who now occupy and brutalize their own people! Who among us truly believes that the Reich is a friend to the Vetalians.

Atticus turned towards Boris again. His eyes ablaze with a seething anger.

As some of you know, agents of the Kraven Reich attempted to assassinate my Queen and your fellow Gothic Lord. I feel it is best in times like these to be honest with each other, particularly among such esteemed company. Let us not mince words.

Atticus shot a glare at the Reich’s representatives not blinking as his next words were channeled directly at them.

My Queen was attacked for daring to protest an illegal and immoral occupation of the lands of a fellow Gothic Lord. My fellow countryman attacked for crying out against the kidnapping and murder of fellow Goths!

Atticus began to pace around the room and his hands began to shake.

I'm already aware of what the representatives of the Reich will say to this. A treaty was signed, they will say. A treaty that allows them to take such actions. A treaty they say.. Atticus paused and gazed around the room inquisitively.

What kind of an agreement allows another to come into your own home and kill your brother? What kind of an agreement allows another to come into your home and take your sister? Your daughter? My Lords, not a treaty made in good faith.

My Lords, a treaty made in good faith would not be signed by a sane man. A treaty of good faith would not have the chief signatory immediately defect to the Reich… A treaty of good faith does not bring fire and gallows and blood on the streets!

Atticus, having made the full circle, suddenly stopped in front of a knife a golden chalice. Atticus had been forewarned about this little ritual. Every representative was expected to prick their finger and swear an oath. Atticus picked up the knife which shined brightly in the light. He picked it up and turned it in his hand.

Blood… We swear our oaths in blood.

Atticus paused to take off his glasses, placing them neatly in his coat pocket.

The blood of men flows too easily in the Land of the Gothic Lords. In Milograd, the Reich burned alive entire families. The men...the women...the CHILDREN. Burned with fire! Because they were in the way. Not fit even to be processed as the Reich’s resources.

Atticus was circling again.

And before, scores men killed in the last Great War of the Lords… A war so great that you would never have time to read the names of the dead. And the dead have names my Lords, with every death somebody’s mother...brother…

Atticus looked straight at Lord Dreadfire's seat as his voice grew quiet.

somebody’s father. The gods rest their souls!

Atticus grew louder.

And even before that! The Reich made great and terrible war against the People of Jagada nearly wiping them from the face of this world! Four...point five… billion killed. Yet another war...in which you could spend the rest of your days reading the names of the dead and never finish… not in a hundred lifetimes could you name every single victim of the Kraven Reich. And what of the their homeland? What is it now? ‘Neo-Cydonia’, they call it. But my Lords, let us be honest amongst each other. The former homeland of Jagada is now a factory that the Reich uses to build more war machines to kill other fellow Goths!

Atticus continued to circle, the knife still in his hand but held close to his chest.

We swear our oaths in blood… even as yet again the Reich spills the blood of our Gothic brothers and sisters in Vetalia. My Lords, why is this allowed? Why do they kill our brothers?

He stopped abruptly as he stepped just behind the representatives of the Kraven Reich. As if he realized something important.

It was here wasn’t it? At this very spot? The last time the Lords were gathered. The diplomat from Norska. I don’t even think he was given a name. He sat here...right here! One Capitol Police Officer took the knife.

Atticus raised the knife…

The other shoved the bowl under his neck...as.. the diplomat leaned over..a knowing willing lamb to the slaughter…

Atticus made a slicing motion across his neck.

And they killed him. Right here. His blood must have filled the bowl to the brim… I imagine even then, our hosts must have had to clean even more up off the floor. How long did his dead body sit in the chair? Bleeding more blood in the name of the Gothic Lords?

Atticus took a step, then another, and then kept walking speaking quietly.

We swear our oaths in blood… why do we do that? Is it because blood is supposedly precious? Valuable? Holy? Because it costs something?

Atticus got louder.

I would argue that a blood oath by the Kraven Reich is worth nothing. Blood is cheap in the Reich. Lives are merely to be consumed - it cost them nothing to slay their own representative to the most high council of the Gothic Lords! It’s NOTHING to them to kill our brethren. And we are all the poorer for it.

My Lords, my Lords, I say unto you that the Reich has broken their oath. Even if the treaty was legal. Even if the treaty was made in good faith by one of sound mind and body - even then. Nothing gives another nation to right to spill the blood of another. It is forbidden. A violation of the laws the govern our alliance and casus belli of the highest order.

My Lords, I call upon this council to put an end to this bloodshed. I call upon this council of Lords - of Kings! This round table full of gods among men. Put a stop to this! Order the Reich out of Vetalia! If they do not see blood as a cost - then let them see that your anger has a cost all it’s own!

At that moment, the senior Capitol Police Officer stood. His words were emotionless, in stark contrast to the pleadings of Atticus.

This man has no right to address us. The Summit has not started. He is not a Lord. His speech is against protocol.

Atticus shouted all the more louder, I am My Lord’s Peacemaker! I am the Open Hand of My People! I am my Queen’s Conciliator in the midst of rancor and the King’s Emissary when times grow dark! Ignore me at your peril villain!

Atticus looked around the room eyeing each of the Gothic Lords present before speaking quickly.

My people did not send a warrior. My people do not seek war. My people do not like war. We are builders, we are traders, we are scholars. It is me they send at the eleventh hour. I may be the dove - the lone pacifist in this room - but I am followed by the sword. Legions full of righteous rage who will not stand idle as blood flows in the streets. As women are taken from their homes. As families are torn apart by more bloodshed. More and more and more and more….and more!

Atticus twirled the knife in his hands again continuing to pace around the room.

We swear our oaths… in blood., spoke Atticus slowly and very quietly. As he did, he let the blade of the knife cut into the skin of his palm… and allowed a few drops to fill the bowl.

The Skyan people are not afraid of blood. When we swear our oaths, know that we consider your people our brethren.. that we mourn the deaths of your people as we do ours. Our brothers and sisters in Vetalia are bleeding. And so with our oath we call this motion… order the expulsion of the Reich from their shores. Let their blood bear a cost… a cost not easily forgotten. My Lords, if we are to be gods among men let us be benevolent gods.. Let us be just and worthy of praise. My Lords, hear the motion...call the vote… and do what is right! Save your brothers in Vetalia. End the occupation.

Atticus turned towards Boris and the Vetalian delegation. He spoke quietly and directly.

Freinds? My friends come to my aid of my countrymen - as you might remember from the last little fight we had with the Reich. Your friends murder your countrymen with cold machine-like precision. We should have drinks sometime - I could find you better friends.

[Emperor Pudu]

Lucius was impressed with the sudden ferocity from the Skyan delegate. The man had looked so composed only a moment before; it was a true barometer of the passion these people felt for the situation. As Atticus spoke the ambassador reflected on the Pantokratocracy's past with the Reich; although at times rivals, the Pudite's had never been their enemy. Sometimes, they had even fought alongside one another. The political will behind these decisions was alien to Otho, though. There were two parallel governing institutions in his homeland; Otho belonged to the relatively traditional Tongmenghui. In the past, it had been that other organization, the Imperial Government, that had orchestrated the cooperation with the Reich. The Imperial Government was almost as inhumane as the Reich, though they substituted wanton brutality and terror for their own simple, heartless, efficiency. Otho was shaken from his contemplation by Atticus' next words, "We swear our oaths in blood…"

The last meeting of the lords was what he was talking about. The Kraven Reich's demonstration to the other lords; butchering one of their own. Yes, Otho had heard of the Reich's demonstration. The lords each spilled some of their blood, while the Reich gave up a full measure. What is the significance of blood? It is the symbolic life-force, spilled by those oath-takers to signify their willingness to undergo harm and hardship. Was not the Reich's sacrifice therefore greater even than a ceremonial cut? The Reich, contrary Otho thought to some popular belief, did not strike him as a wasteful machine. Everything was done for a reason, some material, some less tangible. Otho's thoughts turned to his liege's own hand, the single scar on his palm. It was a dark secret. His mind turned elsewhere.

The Capitol Police officer in turn addressed Atticus; despite the rising clangor, the officer's voice was a cool as ever. Otho was reminded of his own countryman, if he could be called that, the one who had taken the name Mr. White. Machine-like, sinister and cold. Otho looked into Atticus' eyes as he scanned the room after his declaration to the officer. There was a fire there, obvious to all. It gave the ambassador an involuntary shiver, the way great orators can agitate their listeners. The Skyan said it again, "We swear our oaths… in blood." Otho watched him cut his palm.

When Atticus had finished, Otho stood up. He surprised himself with his own sudden action. His legs felt weak for a second, but stiffened. He looked around the room, but his gaze fell last on the Reich delegation, "If this meeting is well and truly begun, as it seems, then I will be heard on this." It was an unorthodox start to a summons, though Otho doubted there were very often any extremely orthodox meetings of the Lords of Gholgoth. "Representatives of the Kraven Reich, I had come here today expecting to question you on your state's activities in the Vetalian peninsular region, and to confer with appropriate Vetalian representatives regarding the situation that has arisen there." With the word appropriate Otho shot a harsh glance at the Vetalians who were in attendance. "To war and strife, I can relate. My homeland was wracked by a recent war, my fair city destroyed. And with treason, too, I am familiar. When your own countrymen take up arms with the invaders, it is a desperate situation indeed. What I will not do, however, is pretend that there is anything left we can discuss here on these terms; I will not, and my government will not, recognize a Vetalian government supplanted by hostile pro-Kraven forces even as that government's leading legal authorities are in hiding, or dead. We have to treat this as what it is; an attack by a hostile power on another, sovereign, nation. And one who was ostensibly an ally! What war can we wage between us here in this room but civil war, for we are brothers and sisters in arms, are we not? Well, I have had my fill of civil war. I do not wish to fight with any of you here, but that choice has been made for us, hasn't it?"

Otho reached over and took the knife and chalice from the table before Atticus, his blood likely still warm in the bottom of the ancient storied cup. "I came here to swear my allegiance and the allegiance of my Emperor to everyone here today, but when we fight amongst ourselves that is not possible. Therefore, I will swear now my allegiance to Gholgoth, and gods damn her enemies." Otho looked hard at the Kraven and Vetalian delegations, "Gholgoth has many enemies." He held the dagger lightly in his hand, testing its weight. These Vetalians had sworn nothing, they were not his brothers. To kill an enemy of Gholgoth with her own ceremonial blade... Only a fantasy. He lifted the dagger up, gently brushing his throat, eyes still on the Kraven officers. Finally, he took the knife full in his fist and squeezed, cutting his flesh and spilling a generous quantity of his own blood into the cup with Atticus'. "I swear that we will defend Gholgoth. That begins in the Vetalian peninsula." Looking at Atticus, "You have our whole-hearted support."

[Dephire]

ULE City - Chamber of the Gothic Lords

Clack! Thud! Clack! Thud! Clack! Thud! The armored boots of Dephirian Emperor Tristan Skragg reported loudly within the stone walls. He normally was not one to be late to parties, nor important summons, but he found himself needing to better convince the Skyan doctors that he was healthy enough to travel. He landed a mere twenty minutes prior to the abrupt start of the meeting and made with due haste towards the chamber room. Tristan heard both Atticus and Otho announce their support, what sounded like an open aggression towards Reich politics, through the communicator Jane had set up. He was up to speed on every little event that occurred in the room, and knew exactly how he was going to portray his next motive.

The Dephirian Emperor opened the doors widely and saw Otho's blood pouring into the chalice. Otho's ferocity was commendable, as was intensity from Atticus before him. "I apologize for my extreme tardiness. It was nearly impossible to convince Atticus' kinsmen to let me leave Citadel City." Tristan gave a polite smile as eyes briefly turned to him, some looked as though questioning his immaturity about just how severe this matter was at hand. Tristan moved towards Jane, who stood up and allowed him to sit.

"Nice of you to show up, Tristan. Who ok'd you to leave?" Jane whispered into his ear.

"Not now. We need to make a move quickly." Tristan whispered back. His attention then turned to Otho and the chalice, which he then gestured for it to be handed over.

"My brothers and sisters of Gholgoth, this is indeed an interesting and yet dark chapter in our book," Tristan began. He looked into the chalice, swirling it around and watching the blood mix. "I do not know the motives behind Vetalian politicians just handing over their lands and people to the Reich. To be frank, I have been suffering from major health problems for the past several months and have chosen a path of ignorance towards the situation entirely. However, it is clear that a damning decision must be made."

Tristan turned to the Vetalian delegates, "Dephire has never openly opposed the Reich. In fact, my nation had always turned a blind eye to the despicable behaviors and actions the Reich has carried out. In turn, the Reich has left us alone. I am certain that they had offered you some sort of divine deal. An offer that you could not refuse? We once had such an agreement. This all changed when the Reich attacked Milograd, pulling this great alliance and region into a bitter war. This war would cost the lives of many great men and women." Tristan motioned to Damien as he spoke. "The nation of Milograd was forever scarred. We, as a region, pulled ourselves back from the brink. We prevailed, but not without costs. The Reich was never even punished for their attack on a fellow Gothic nation." Tristan set the chalice down and stood up. "However, on the anniversary of our 'victory', the Reich would once again make landfall in Milograd. This time they were given land as a reward. Dephire did nothing to prevent the slaughter. When the time came for when my help was needed most, I ordered my forces to retreat home. Millions of lives were lost due to my hesitation. Now, we have been gathered because of the Reich's recent activities have mirrored past events." Tristan took the knife and sliced a deep gash in his hand, then extended his hand over the chalice and squeezed until his fingers were white. "To this, I say 'no more'!"

"The Godsend Empire will make a stand against the Kraven Reich at their own doorstep. We will stand against the true blight of Gholgoth!" He looked towards the Vetalians, completely ignoring any of the Reich Officers in session. "I hope what they offered was worthy of your damnation. For their offer was not worth ours..." He frowned before sitting down.