The city looked like it was decaying from the inside out. Great skyscrapers still stood, but they all seemed to lack something that could not be obtained, like a point that was always dragged to be slightly out of reach. The country had been failing since the First War of Niskas, its once substantial power slowly crumbling until it’s total eclipse became evident in the Second War. Delegates had been forced to sell valuable land to the the Collective of Tinis in an effort to put the economy back on track, an effort that had failed, and left the country more destitute than it had been before.
The situation had given the perfect opportunity for a militaristic, right wing party to take control, known as the Ravens. Since the election, votes for the federal office had disappeared, but the people cared little, as the country was slowly getting back to it’s feet.
A young woman by the name of Luna Zaretic had set the country back on track. But it was not enough as recent tensions with the their rival power, the Kingdom of Jalka, and the grudges against the people that taken lands from the nation grew, a kindling fire that was threatening to to be set ablaze.
Old wrongs were never forgotten, and in the Dagon culture, where honor was paramount, giving up what you had earned was weakness, and weakness was left to die. Dralka was not easy to govern for that reason. Once you set things in motion, it could not be easily reversed. War was not something feared by the people, but rather an almost sacred thing, although it was not glorified as the only way to proceed with things, it was something other governments had failed to realize when their attempted conquests became bloodbaths.
Recruitment campaigns grew in number, as the country militarized, it’s modernizing army getting reorganized.
A large portion of the population of the city was gathering in the city center. An old wooden podium sat in front of the people, surrounded by Raven Guard, the elite fighting force of the nation's military. Luna approached the platform, she wore a feminine suit, it’s darkness in deep contrast the common pale skin of the Dralkar. Her eyes were an icy blue, and her dark hair was cut to end just after her chin, angling upwards. She as much the symbol of the growing militarism as of national beauty.
The flags in the city seemed to become part of the excitement of the people, waving proudly in the wind. As she reached the microphone she was greeted with cheers from the people. She didn’t smile then, she rarely did when in public. “We are rising.” she began simply as soon as the crowd had settled. Her voice echoed into the city’s main streets, as television crews tried to get the best shot of their leader. “We are the old Knights from the grim history of Niskas, we were once of the Dagon Empire, but they both fell, fell from grace and plummeted in the merciless sea of history like the thousands of civilizations before them. They failed to realize their mistakes and their weaknesses, and fix them, and strengthen them, but we have!”
“We are rising from the ashes of a failing state, but we will ascend, like phoenix from this trying time. Too long have we been the failing nation in the north, the jesters to Niskas. Under the rule of both capitalism and socialism our trade faltered, our economy crumbled, and our honor was left slated. The Ascendent’s favor was gone from us, but no longer.”
“We are freed from the shackles of the depression, we are no longer warped by corruption and weakness. We are free from the enigma of the failed rulers. We stand on the brink of a new era. On the edge of restoring the honor of our nation.” She paused, the people she spoke to were completely immersed in her words.
“We will become the unifiers of Niskas if that is fate’s call, we will remove the stains from our banners, Niskas will know that we we will be the scapegoats no longer, be the laughing stock no longer.” One schooled in the legends of the continent would know exactly what she was saying, but meaningless words to the majority, the Unifiers being a people that would hold the whole of Niskas under its domain, and unite the nations under one strong banner, it was a prophecy of sorts.
“The weak live to serve the strong, weak linger and die, while the strong create progress. We are not weak, we are strong, becoming stronger then any would wish us to be, and we will rise.” Luna, the self acclaimed Marshall of Dralka, left the stage to the cheers of her people. The fires in their hearts had been lit by the speech, and embers left to the wind could easily create wildfires.
Today marked the beginning of a week long celebration known as the Week of the Ascendent, but there would be no celebrating for the young ruler and the generals, only reorganization, careful planning, and preparation.
The continent was headed for a Third War, and no amount of diplomacy would be able to halt it. In a continent forged in the fires of war and cooled in the blood of warriors, few things could stop it. The continent had widely been left alone by foreign powers, only trade even giving any attention to the region.
The people knew they were living in a time where history would be made. The Dralkar and their Dagon allies were prepared for a bloody war. The kindling had been lit with the day’s speech, and it was headed towards a pool of gasoline, slowly, and when it reached it would start that blaze of rapidly spreading fire.