EotBM, Chapter I - A White Lily Wilts [IC | Invite Only]

[Tinza]

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In mirror to the Tides of Our Lady, that which arrives must, too, in time, withdraw.
- Ancient Tinzan proverb

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This year marks the semicentennial of Drogon Tsering's reign as State Preceptor. For close to six-hundred moons, he has ruled the Tinzan Eternal Realm in lieu of it's lawful monarch, Everqueen Kya II, who he has kept under effective house arrest since the death of her royal parents in 2001. During his tenure, he has been described as a kelptocratic despot by his detractors, and a paragon of justice and stability by his supporters. His grip on power, from the outside, appears absolute; yet in truth, the peasant-soldier turned dictator has been in constant struggle with his rivals who covet his power and continue to oppose him. Unbeknownst to many, it may take only the slightest nudge to precipitate the downfall of the entire rotten Drogon regime; and unbeknownst to all, the final straw has already been plucked...

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Begin Chapter I, Act I

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List of POV Characters
Expanded as required

Drogon Tsering, State Preceptor of Tinza
Tswang Lhakpa, the White Raven, son of the State Preceptor
Kya II, Everqueen of the Tinzans
Kelsang Karpo/Go-bo dmar, Leader of the Revolutionary Labour Movement
Paldon the Exile

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[Tinza]

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Drogon Tsering, State Preceptor
Palace of Everlasting Harmony, Ladumra, Tinza, 2100 hours, September 4th

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Drogon ran his frail fingers through his receding black hairline. He felt another clump of hair around his hands as he brought them down to his desk. He looked up, focusing his eyes on the disappointment stood in-front of him. On his son, Tsewang Lhakpa... the foolish boy. Drogon tried to remember why he had allowed himself to send his inept son on such an important diplomatic mission; deep down, he always knew that he would let him down. Yet he let his emotions get the best of him; the last foolish shred of love which he held for the boy had forced him to grant him a modicum of respect and an ounce of responsibility; both, evidently, were things which his son was not yet ready for. Drogon scanned his child up and down; he read his body language, he knew that there was something amiss about him. In tandem with his son's ever-awkward arrival, there was, too, word that he had been offered by Tingzi, the Dihei Dowager of Akai, a deal which ' he could not refuse'. If that were not code for... something, then it ought to be. Drogon motioned to Tsewang to speak.

His incompetent son nodded, bowed slightly, and then opened his useless mouth. "Father" he started, ever the black sheep attempting formality as a lowborn, "It is good to see you, truly." he said. Drogon scowled; Tsewang knew that he hated it when they feigned to like one another. "I bring news from Akai. Great news, in fact, concerning our illustrious Lady Majesty." he then continued, ever aloof of the situation. Drogon felt his eyes widen. Concerning the Everqueen? She couldn't have escaped could sh- no, of course not. He had been watching her the entire time, and that would hardly constitute great news. Drogon allowed Tsewang to continue. "As you well know, our Everqueen is yet to be married, despite having flowered close to sixty moons ago! Luckily, in their infinite wisdom, our Lazin allies have offered the hand in marriage of their great Ditu Hulang! Truly a marriage for the ages, Preceptor-Father!" Tsewang ecstatically exclaimed. Drogon could hardly tell that Tsewang was faking his excitement... the boy was getting better at lying after all. Drogon nodded in response to the news, his scowl holding. He flipped through the papers and notes on his desk, while Tsewang stood upright waiting for a response. Drogon finally pulled out a piece of paper, and placed it on his desk.

The paper was titled "Potential Suitors", and evolved into a long list of potential marriage candidates for Kya. Drogon, in plain view of Tsewang, wrote the name "Hulang Lazin" at the end of the list, before placing the piece of paper back into the pile, and looking up at Tsewang, who seemed somewhat shocked. "You would spurn the monarch of our closest ally so?" Tsewang inquired. Drogon chuckled, before interjecting. "Akai is not our closest ally. My alliance was with my friend Jieke, not his incompetent prepubescent spawn." Drogon said, before pausing. "Tava is our closest ally; or Strasskak. For, an alliance with the Eternal Realm is one with the Eternal Realm as the dominant partner. Akai wishes for us to be their vassal-state; and I will not have it. It is one of the few things on which I, and the nobles whom despise me so, can agree".

Tsewang nodded. "If it is what you wish, father. Should I inform Hulang of your decis-" he then said, before Drogon interrupted him. "By Amadawa, no!" Drogon interjected. "I will deal with this. You must go and find Rapten Zopa, he has been asking for you ever since you left." Drogon added. Tsewang Lhakpa nodded in understanding, before leaving the room. As he left, the guards of Drogon's office closed the doors behind him. After waiting a few minutes to make sure that his son was out of earshot, Drogon addressed one of his guards. "Get me Gurung!" he boomed, losing his composure. "I've found another traitor for him to deal with." he then added, as the guard saluted and scurried out of the room. Drogon headed back to his desk, and slumped down into his chair. He opened one of the desk's drawers, and took out from it a a glass bottle of spiced fermented milk, and a tumbler glass. Placing the tumbler on the desk, he proceeded to pour the milk into the glass. He proceeded to knock back the drink, wiping the remnants from his lips. "My own son..." he mumbled to himself. "I knew I never should have trusted him." he added, before curling his face in anger, and throwing his now-empty glass across the room in rage. It smashed on the walls; the guard almost jumped out of his skin.

After a few moments of silence and shock, Gurung - the well-built, well-groomed Commander-of-the-Palace-Guard - walked through the doors to Drogon's office, and saluted to him. "I was told that there was a traitor who needed to be apprehended?" Gurung asked, his eyes focused dead ahead. Drogon scoffed and poured himself another drink into a new glass. "My son." he said abruptly. "Tsewang Lhakpa." he added, for clarity. Gurung's eyes widened. "T-Tsewang, sir?" he asked, for clarity's sake. Drogon bobbed his head in acknowledgement. "Yes. My son." he said, before taking another drink. "He is working with the Akai to overthrow us... it's obvious now to me." Drogon said. "First he damn-near demands to be our emissary to the Akai wedding, next he conspires with the Dihei Dowager to force me into an awkward position? It all adds up. Put him under house arrest." he then added. Gurung nodded tentatively. "Your will be done, my lord." he said, before saluting and leaving the room. Drogon had anticipated this day for a long time. In a strange way, it was a relief. That betrayal was out of the way, now, and Drogon could focus on his other duties... and his other enemies.

[Tinza]

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Kelsang Karpo, RLM Leader
Chas-pa village, rural Sprakhams, Tinza, 0500 hours, November 7th

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As the morning dew settled atop the greenery surrounding the small village of Chas-pa, the denizens of the farming community began to go about their business, the ancient streets of the town soon filling with people. In the markets, the small town merchants rushed to set up their stalls, ready for the morning rush. As Kelsang observed them out from the hidden window of his safehouse, he could not help but notice the lack of, well, just about everything in the markets. Times were hard, the townsfolk had told him. Not only was the harvest sub-par, but the local nobles, on behalf of the Drogon regime, had also begun to requisition grain in the belief that there would be a harsh winter. The thought of the food stolen from the mouths of starving babes in order to feed Drogon's war machine made Kelsang's heart beat with fury. Despite the hard times, though, the townsfolk had sheltered and fed him upon his return from Nordania as if he were one of their own. The Elder Brother was well-loved in the countryside; his death angered many of the rural communities, at least those news of it reached.

"Ke-Ka..." he heard a drowsy feminine voice mumble from behind him. It took him a moment to realise that it was Tashi, his lover, and not an enemy agent. He was always a tad jumpy when he was on the run. "Come back to bed..." Tashi then muttered, before adding "I'll make it worth your while..."; Kelsang almost considered the proposal, for a split second, but thank Amadawa he thought with his head and not his cock. Kelsang turned back from the window to face Tashi directly "Sorry babe; I got places to be, governments to overthrow" he asserted, casually, while walking towards her. He grabbed his black officer's jacket from the side of the bed on approach, buttoning it up as he lent in and graced Tashi's dark forehead with his lips. She looked up at him with her big beady eyes in longing, before grabbing his hands. "Promise me you'll come back" she said, her eyes fixed on his. Kelsang sighed, as he tried to pull his hands away from her grip. "You know I can't promise that" he replied, as he almost freed his hands from her grasp. She tightened her grip. "Promise me" she again demanded, this time far more assertively. Kelsang let out a further sigh before nodding. "I promise" he told her, as she lifted her grip and he pulled away from her. He head toward the door, grabbing his Alemannic revolver and stolen Tinzan sabre as he left. He quickly holstered the revolver and sheathed the sabre, wrapping the belt of the scabbard around his waist as he walked. He swung open the door, lit his cigarette, and headed to the market square.

As he walked down from the hidden shelter and into the town proper, he saw all manner of townsfolk rushing past him towards the square, as if something was happening there. Kelsang picked up his pace from a stroll to a brisk walk, until he managed to ask one of the townspeople what was going on. The kindly elderly man who stopped to answer his question told him that "the taxmen arrived an hour early" and that the town council was trying to reason with them in the town square. "Shit" Kelsang exclaimed, before he stamped out his cigarette and ran at full pace towards the town square. An hour early? He thought to himself. They must have been tipped off; or Kelsang's luck had really slipped in the past week. As Kelsang ran, he took out his handheld transceiver and radioed the situation to the RLM base. "Change of plans" he told them, as he continued running. "The noble fucks are here, get yourselves into position; the Revolution begins an hour early" he remarked, with the understanding that those few words may well change the course of Tinzan history. As he put the transceiver away, he turned his last corner and arrived in the town square, where he saw the town council and guards facing off against three mounted nobles and an assembled host what looked like a further hundred enforcers.

"Well?" the mounted noble in front remarked with zest and anger. "Where is the grain?" he added. The town council did not reply, and from Kelsang's position did not seem to even be bowing, as would be appropriate for lowborns receiving highborns. "Are you shit-born pig farmers deaf?" another of the nobles exclaimed. "We're talking to you! You should be doing as we command, we're here by the order of the Everqueen!" he further commented. After a few seconds of the town council refusing to even talk with the two nobles, a third, bulkier noble rode up from behind, sabre in hand. "The grain belongs to us now" he calmly said. "Obey and serve us, as the State Preceptor commands, or we will have to install some order to this town ourselves" he then remarked, as the enforcers behind him were ordered to ready their weapons.

Just as the third noble looked as though he was going to give the order, Kelsang rushed forward toward the gathering, pushing through the crowds until he was face-to-face with the nobles and the council. "The grain belongs to the people" Kelsang said, as the crowds muttered and mumbled behind him. "Drogon and his cronies have no power here, not anymore" he then exclaimed, to the smiles of the town council and further muttering. The nobles turned to face him and scoffed. "And who says this? A soldier's son who lacks discipline?" one of them remarked. Kelsang scoffed, but before he could rush to defend himself an elderly member of the town council had already spoke. "The one who tells you the truth of this situation is the Red Eagle" the elderly man said, to gasps from the enforcers and aghast looks upon the faces of the nobles. As the elderly man spoke, Kelsang felt a tingly buzz in his back pocket; his handheld transceiver. The RLM militia were now in position, he thought to himself, according to the plan. Kelsang looked up at one of the roofs discretely, to see, as planned, a RLM sniper.

The nobles, still visibly taken aback, finally broke the silence. "Red Eagle or not, Drogon ordered us to get this grain; so we're going to get it" the bulkier noble said, as his steed trotted forward, sabre still in hand. Kelsang drew his revolver, and aimed it directly at the noble. "I wouldn't recommend that. Not unless you want a skull made of lead." Kelsang warned, his aim not wavering. The bulkier noble scoffed, even laughing at the notion. He did not halt his advance, even as he remarked "I'm not afraid of your bronze toy". At that moment, a hail of bullets rained down from the rooftops, as hidden gunmen fired at the advancing noble. It took but a few seconds for his body to fill with bullets, his grand build reduced to an unrecognisable husk as his mount reared and rode away from the chaos, it too sustaining a few wounds. As the shock began to wear off on the other two nobles and the enforcers, and as they prepared to advance, Kelsang stood atop a soapbox, and spoke to the RLM members and townsfolk. "This town is under the protection of the RLM. These thieves wish to steal the grain of our friends, comrades and allies. Let's show them how we honour our word!" he exclaimed, to a great cheer, as RLM militias began to pour from the alleys and adjoining streets into the square. At that moment, both the RLM militiamen and the noble enforcers advanced, and a hail of bullets littered the streets. Many of those civilians who had not already fallen back were caught in the crossfire, while others now too began to fall back or join in the fighting.

The fighting continued on for a few minutes, before the nobles and their enforcer lackeys were forced to retreat from the village. The square was littered with bodies from both sides, bullet-holes littered the surrounding walls, broken glass was found everywhere and blood flowed down the drains. It was a bloody victory, yes, but a victory. Kelsang had taken a bullet in the fighting; luckily for him, it was only a flesh wound. He walked towards the centre of the square, as the soldiers and townfolk around him cheered. He stood atop that same soapbox upon which he had stood before, and spoke to the gathered masses. "Today we have won a great victory." he announced, to great applause. "Chas-pa is now safe, and under RLM protection. But there are still more villages to liberate!" he said. "More struggles to win, more masses to liberate and more battles to fight along with them." he added, before pausing. "I will not lie to you; it will be a tough battle. Many of us may not live to see the light at the end of this tunnel; but we will have given our lives so that others may see it one day. So that our family, friends and brothers and sisters in arms may one day know true freedom, and may one day know true happiness." he then said, before continuing. "And let it be said that we daring few fought for that freedom, that we fought for that happiness. Drogon thinks us pacified, and weak. He thinks we will not oppose his rule because we cannot. Let us prove him wrong! Let us stand together, as comrades in arms, and fight for the justice we crave! And let's let Drogon know that his days are numbered! The Tinzan people have awoken on this day, and finally, the long night under the Black Moon will end, and a new Tinza will rise in the dawn!"

[Victoriala II]

Crosspost from Occultations.

Kwan-Im.

Sijang
11:30 PM

Crickets go at their loudest among the trees outside the Lion's Hall.

Saramat was summoned at the dead of night to Her Majesty's office. Holding a cloaked tray, he felt a slight anxiety. Her Majesty is not one to be there in times like these. Let alone be out of her bed.

He saw a strange fellow with Her Majesty. Youngest of the three. In his days as secretary to her late mother heard from the her of Her Highness' insubordination, and sometimes violent disposition. She had a handful brawls with youth her age due to conflicts of character. She disobeyed common palace protocol and never talked to people of upper stature. She always snuck out of the palace in her nightly escapades to Kahavan, preferring to be among with the rowdy ones under a different name.

Of all her misgivings recorded by her mother (through discreet means, obviously), it was a shock to everyone that she was given the throne by their mother's will. The eldest said nothing and the middle's mind wasn't aligned quite rightly. A day after the late mother's death, he saw Her Majesty almost transformed. Perfect poise and attentive cadence. A keen politeness and a willingness. A rough rock that became a serene stone.

A great trace of her princesshood still stuck, but the belligerence was replaced with an idle character. This isn't to say she didn't work however, but daily work felt less regal. She wore civilian dress on her office and state council meetings with matching civilian cadence. She detested the overbearing formalities of conversation, preferring to go straight to the point. She allows commoners to appeal directly to her office. She attended their festivities, talked like them and with them. She jests and jokes frequently, quipping short polemics against local affairs she disapproved. It was a point of contention by some who thought highly of her mother and the throne (maybe even of her elder sister), but she never cared the slightest.

Usually, during these hours she preferred (and insisted) to be in her private chambers, undisturbed. No one would knock unless she asks for something, and whatever happens inside is insisted a secret. He once entered the room as per request and it wasn't anything depraved as some attendants rumored (he saw her playing videogames hugging a stuffed tiger on bed, she asked about what kind of plant can stay sideways or something about fruit, he doesn't really remember). The routine happened daily.

Her office was in the second floor of the Hall. Before the staircase was the hall of acceptance a wide open area in which public functions are held. The passage to the staircase is a long hallway, flanked by portraits of the most revered Queens of the Lion Throne, starting with the divine Sibari. The large tapestries were imposing, powerful and watchful, their eyes seemingly pointing towards Saramat from their blazing triumphance.

Before he even knocks the door, Her Majesty beckons.

"Come in."

The sight was surprisingly peculiar as he opened. Her table was laid bare, nothing except a piece of paper, two inkwells and a reed pen. Her Majesty wore official court dress, face and hair made up perfectly with her mothers hairpieces. She wore her upright poise and a stern face. She stood there, waiting. The Left Chancellor is dumbfounded.

"What?"

"What?" Her Majesty's poise broke.

"Sirati, what's with all..."

"Oh, uhhh, yeah, right. It's for effect. Call me the whole majesty thing for now, k? From the top." She clears her throat and returns to her sternness. "Do you have the seals I requested?"

Her tone was soft, formal. Her cadence was smooth and royal.

"Yes, your Majesty." Saramat takes off the tray's veil, revealing two decorated blocks of wood. Each had a lion on the top. One had a burning halo, and the other had none. He places the tray over her table, and nods in respect. Her Majesty nods in reply.

"Please, stay."

Her Majesty then proceeds to open the black inkwell. She takes her pen and dips it in the black powdery substance. She raises her pen and hovers it over the paper. The chancellor is surprised (and impressed) at her proper movement.

She slowly and softly presses the pen to the paper, and proceeds to write. The letters were small but legible, aligned straight. She opens the orange inkwell and dips her pen in it, and returns to writing. She returns it to black, and continues. She concluded with a straight line to occupy the last line of text, taking only half of the paper. She takes a short stop, takes a breath, and continues. She begins to write in the old script, writing the flowing lines with utmost observation. Ten minutes pass as he observes her.

At last, she draws the filling line to conclude the letter and puts down her pen. She takes the first block with the haloed lion and presses it over the paper's left side. Raising it, it reveals the emblem of the burning lion surrounded by a flurry of divine fire, an orb above him and three jewels below him. The seal of the Royal House. She proceeds to do the same to the other block, revealing the same emblem, surrounded only by the square borders of the seal. She returns both of these seals to the tray, and lays it aside. She stands up, and walks toward the altar to the burning lion.

"Please, read."

Saramat takes the sheet of paper and turns it around. Reading from the later script, he reads it aloud.

"Her Glorious Majesty, by the Grace of Her People. Under my authority as Daughter of the Lion and Queen of the Lion Throne, declare that the Min recognize the Tinzan government of Kilsang Karpo, also known as "Gopoma" as the legitimate sovereign authority of all Tinza. The authority under Tokon Shering is deemed illegitimate and all preceding relations with the latter are declared void." Saramat looks to her at disbelief. "Your Majesty, what of this?"

She lights incense in front of the god. "Worry not, esteemed Chancellor. It won't be made public nor effective until I say so. However, we have much work to do. I want the Office of Purity to go north and find information regarding the dissidents. Let them interact with them and establish a point of contact."

Saramat nods, and Her Majesty turns around to his direction.

"Convene the Council of State tommorow at ten. Tell them this is a matter of urgency. If possible, bring my sisters in as well. Maybe just Kanha will suffice. Contact the Oceanic Society and Kha Praja. Keep the communications private. Are we clear?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

She smiles. "I am glad it is so."

"Your Majesty, may I ask about why all of this all of a sudden?"

"Confluences."

"What do you mean, Your Majesty?"

"Not for you to know, not now. For now, just do as I instruct you to."

"Understood, Your Majesty."

And he steps away of the office, and leaves.

She nods at the altar.

In the smoke of the incense, she saw change.

[Sjealand]

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Paldon the Exile of Tselha
Asgård Palace, Asgård, Sjealand, 1700 hours, November 11th

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''And one two compliment, one two compliment, one chasse, two chasse, three chasse, compliment.'' At first he had hated it. The strings, the dancing, the laughter, and most of all him. He had dreamt of home, of the cherry blossom in spring, of the high mountains and of his family. In sorrowful moments he yet wept for his lost home, but alas he had found at least some happiness in this foreign land. Tseten smiled to him from across the table, not even stopping her conversation with the Prince of Beerenberg. Alas how the young man looked so innocent, clad in his glittering uniform and with his dark shoulder-long hair neatly set. The boy could be no older than 24. By Amadawa did he feel old in this company, even though he at his 48 years of age still had the strength and vigor of his youth.

He repaid the smile as Tseten joined the young man for the next quadrille. These Sjealandians loved their Lanciers, and even though part of him wanted to deny it, so did he. Yet his train of thought did not last too long, a courtier approached, definitely sent by him. The young man gently bowed down whispered something in his ear. His eyes shut open as he looked to the courtier, thanking the young man for the news. He sent his wife a final smile before he began making his way towards the balcony. More often than not he found Frederik standing here, taking in the view of the city. He couldnt blame him, by night Asgård was a wondrous sight. The river meandring through like a dark serpent, the small streets and the Avenyn stretching across the city. Out in the archipelago you could still see dozens of cruise-ships and containers on their way to the docks, and hundreds of smaller boats meandering in and out the estuary and across the river. Down by the waterside you could hear the rythmic clicking of boots as the 9 Guard Companies made their rounds across the palace grounds.

''Do you think its true Your Highness'' he asked, eagerly awaiting a response. Yet Frederiks cold gaze never shifted from surveying the city. ''Its been confirmed by several independent news agencies as well as my sources inside Tinza. It looks like the uprising has started.'' His gaze finally shifted to Paldon, the steel-blue eyes tearing past Paldons normally staunch exterior. ''Do you think she is safe? Your niece that is'' Paldon sighed. ''I dont know, its been years, and if your experiences from the disaster in Akai speak any truth it seems like Drogon is somehow maintaining his stranglehold on Kya. Frederik seemed to ponder the response before asking anew. ''If things go south, would...would Drogon kill her''

''Yes'' he answered. Frederiks gaze shifted back to the city, in some way the situation in Tinza concerned him, even if Paldon could not say why. Sometimes he forgot that this was still a young man, but times like these reminded him of the futility of man. Even the strongest and biggest Archking was still a man, even the most powerful dictator could be killed. The Archqueen interrupted them, ''Frede søde, gæsterne venter på os. Vær nu en skat og kom ind, Hertugen af Ejersted vil gerne diskutere et kommende gilde med dig.'' Frederik smiled, looking at Paldon ''We will have to talk this over at some other point. I hope you enjoy the ball'' before turning around and giving his wife a short kiss, then he was gone. She also looked at him, ''What about you Paldon, are you coming? Or should i maybe send Tseten out here? He nodded, that would acutally be nice, he thought. These were good news, he and his love could return to the home stolen from them, his children would finally grow up not as exiles dependent on a foreign monarch, but as princesses and a prince of Tinza. Drogon would pay, he would see to it.

[Tinza]

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Drogon Tsering, State Preceptor
Palace of Everlasting Harmony, Ladumra, Tinza, 1100 hours, November 7th

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"Damn it all!" Drogon screamed as he angrily swept half the contents of his desk onto the floor in a fit of rage. Quickly, he grabbed a glass which had not yet been pushed from the table, and half-heartedly threw it at the wall, causing it to smash into a hundred or so shards, which then proceeds to scatter the room. Drogon slumped back down into his chair, his head in his hands, as the two officers sat in front of him. Both of high noble birth, one was taller and leaner, with a younger complexion and long, flowing dark hair. The other was shorter and better built, but far older, graying at his hair. They were, in fact, father and son. Jinpa the Elder - Lord of the Lotsawa - and his son, Jinpa the Younger, the heir to his father's legacy. The Elder wore traditional Tinzan garb; a long, elegant and extravagant robe, complete with intricate embroidery and patterns, while the Younger wore a far more modern piece; a suit reminiscent of a western general's uniform, albeit in a dazzling white with golden tint, buttons and medals adorning his extravagant suit.

After a long silence following the State Preceptor's outburst, Jinpa the Younger finally spoke up, lifting his head from his shoulders to address the State Preceptor personally. "Would you like the full report again, State Preceptor?" he asked, his youthful voice masked by a deep, monotonous tone. Drogon angrily raised his head to face the young fool, his face drenched in sweat, curled into a deep scowl. Drogon paused for a moment to resist the great temptation to unload his anger onto the boy, before speaking. "No." the State Preceptor said, in a surprisingly calm tone. "Gather all forces in Sprakhams and the surrounding districts." Drogon ordered sternly, before revealing an expansive and detailed map of the country. He pointed to two places on the map. "The uprising began in your rightful domain, Lord Lotsawa, but it has spread to the domain of the Manriwa and the southern Su." he explained, before continuing. "Send word to them, order them to meet us here" he added, pointing to another location on the map. "With these combined forces we should be able to contain the syndicalist threat, and put an end to the RLM in due time." he concluded, before raising his head from the map, allowing his eyes to stare into the soul of Jinpa the Elder.

"Very well, State Preceptor." Jinpa the Elder replied diligently, in his older, raspy voice. "I will make the necessary arrangements to ensure that this threat is dealt with, as you orde-" he said, before Drogon interrupted him, shaking his head. "I believe you fail to understand, Lord Lotsawa. You failed in your sacred duty to protect your domain from subversives. I have lost my faith in you... I will be personally commanding our forces in this war. You can retire to your pitiful wooden tower while your son and I make the necessary arrangements." Drogon said, much to the anger of Jinpa the Elder. "This is unprecedented!" he raged, fires growing in his eyes. "And so is failing to defeat subversives under your nose." Drogon replied in due. Throughout the exchange, Jinpa the Younger remained silent, his eyes darting between his father and his commander. "Jinpa." Drogon said, addressing the Younger. "Begin your journey, I will send word of your orders in due time." Drogon added, as the Younger nodded and left the room, much to the disdain of his father.

[Ainin]

Aininien Flight 196
On approach to Ladumra International Airport

---

The Azimut 81 jumbo jet approached the invisible line that denoted the Tinzan-Xiaodongese border, cruising at a higher altitude than normal procedure would dictate to make up for lost time. Due to the presence of some Tuthina-bound VIP jet in the air corridor, Flight 196 had been delayed by several hours. For Captain Médéric Reverdin, that meant less time to get a hot stone massage at the spa or to get wasted at the club, a horrifying proposition indeed. With every passing second counting against his future pleasure, he was eager to get on the ground and, with the brisk twist of a dial, switched radio frequencies before the controller at Rongzhuo had even finished wishing him a good evening.

"Good evening Ladumra," he said in a rather impatient tone, "Aininien 196 heavy with you at 11400 metres, requesting ILS approach to Runway 41."

"Good evening to you too, Aininien 196," came the reply much slower than Médéric would have liked, "runway 41, maintain heading and altitude."

"Maintaining heading and altitude, Aininien 196."

In the back of the airplane, the final meal service had just begun: an early light dinner to keep passengers' stomachs satisfied for the last hour before the plane touched down in the Tinzan metropolis. Seated in seat B of row 16 was a bespectacled gentleman in his early 30s. Any observer would have described him as a fairly ordinary man, if not for his clear inability to clutch his glass of sparkling wine without violently shaking his arm. Degenerative motor disease? No, it was a worse beast, an unstoppable force, insidious in its reach and limitless in its dominion over the human race, that turns the strongest of men into the feeblest of children and sends the greatest armies running from the field like little girls — fear, the scourge of the thinking man.

Unable to concentrate on his drink, which by then had begun to spill onto the floor and stain the carpet with an ethanolic smell that will take a poor airport employees an hour to remove, he continually stared at a small red booklet in the seat back pocket. It looks just like an ordinary passport, a keen observer would note, but it surely must be something much more dangerous to elicit such strong emotions in the gentleman.

Alas, extraordinary it was not. It was a simple leather-bound handbill, whose inner cover politely requested on behalf of the President of Nautarya and Alouatan that the bearer be allowed free passage, protection of the laws, all assistance required, and so on. The only problem was, he had never stepped foot in Nautarya, let alone been born or raised there. He had obtained the little document from a shady individual living in apartment 512 of a public housing block in Talon, whose room smelled of suffocating tobacco smoke and whose person smelled little better. After handing him a nondescript paper bag filled with nice, crisp, unmarked bills, he walked out with the document, which he closely examined for any flaws or errors. He found none, and he wagered that whatever poorly-paid grunt staffed the customs desk in Ladumra wouldn't either.

However, as the time for action came ever-closer, he suddenly began having doubts over the plan that he had rehearsed a million and one times in his head. What if the Tinzans contacted the Nautaryan embassy? What if he was walking into a trap? As the what-ifs raced through his head, the ding of the seatbelt light chime snapped him out of his fear-induced trance and brought him back to reality. He was on an airplane, in Tinzan airspace, on final approach into the airport. Even if he wanted to reconsider, it was too late now.

Passport control
Fifty minutes later

---

The tranquility that he had briefly found on the plane entirely vanished by the time that he got to the head of the passport control line, replaced by a crushing sense of imminent doom. As the customs officer, a rather short man dressed in a military uniform clearly too large for him, waved at him to come forth, he mechanically marched up to the stand like a condemned man to the gallows without emotion and placed his forged Nautaryan passport on the officer's desk. Thankfully, he thought to himself, at least the visa was real. He maintained a hope in the back of his mind that the fake passport, which was apparently real enough to fool the consular officer at the visa office, would work with the border guard.

When he saw the uniformed man examine the passport carefully, his hand not reaching for the stamp, the traveller's heart sank. Not like this, arrested at the border and executed as a spy. He silently prayed that the powers-that-be would intervene to at least give him a chance at his assignment.

When the officer opened his mouth, he braced for a very different message from the one that came out his mouth. "Business or pleasure?"

Taking a deep, but quiet, breath of relief, his confidence suddenly flooded back into his body and he let out a polite smile before replying.

"Business. I am Alain Bergeron of the Nautaryan Petroleum Exploitation Corporation." He paused, digging a piece of paper out of his carry-on luggage, before continuing. "And this is a letter of introduction from my employer."

The officer, who clearly did not enjoy reading long and wordy letters written in a foreign language, half-heartedly skimmed through its contents before reaching for his stamp, leaving a wet red mark on the forged passport and impatiently waving him through. "Next!"

[Victoriala II]

Sprakhams, Tinza
late 2017
[festival of the holy marriage/cintrasuratri]

"Puking-ama, Vanang! This isn't the place we're told!"

"Quit babbling and get going. I know what I'm doing and it's better than whatever the fuck you have in mind right now." Vanang hissed back.

Anatu stayed silent with a sour face. Vanang was obviously bullshitting her way into this.

The Office of Purity chose them to be emissaries in the situation on the north. The pedagogues said some vague poetic bullshit about the moon waning and the sun rising, with some quips about the great dharmic æon before getting to the actual instructions. Anatu found it ridiculous, and thusly ignored it. Vanang didn't, however, and it's been driving her arrogance to much of his dissatisfaction.

"you flaccid cock." he mumbled between his lips, compressed with the temptation to kick her in the liver. If it wasn't for the fact he wasn't promoted he would've jumped to somewhere more pleasant, like Åsgard or something.

Vanang stayed silent likewise. Memorizing their path, looking at their surroundings, analyzing her memories. Unscrambling and descrambling the instructions and the invocation given to them. Perched upon the discontented, her mind revisits the invocation. Holy Banners fly with the cog in place of the lion. That part was not quite subtle, though thankfully such for his idiot of a companion to understand where they are going. It's been a surprise he's been in the office for so long, shouldn't the pedagogues have dismissed him already? This behavior supposedly is never tolerated in the most hidden ministry of the Throne.

The tedious (for Anatu at least) walk lasted for about thirty minutes. Suddenly, Vanang halted. She points to the clump of pockets of light on the other mountain. Taking out her monocular, she takes a closer look at the earthly constellation, and sighted herself a banner, somewhat of a warm color, defaced with a vague circular emblem.

"We're here."

Sijang, Min
Meanwhile

The texts, despite their age have no dust. Arranged based on topic and significance (and referential relation to each other), the myriad of books and scrolls (and some carved stalks of bamboo) mingle with the towering shelves carved and decorated with gold and motifs of fire and light. This place is an abode of knowledge, both ancient and recent (but mostly ancient). Tucked away from the far reaches of the Royal College, few can manage to enter here.

Thus, the Holy Library was silent.

The Eldest Daughter sits at the reception desk, waiting for nothing. She chose to not come at the holy festival with her sisters. Something is ongoing that regards to her duty. Thus, she remains. It's been a while since her younger sister showed enough restraint for her to not oversee her. For once.

Her phone rings, and she takes the call. As she listens, she nods. She smiles.

"Continue so." She said in reply.

After the call ended, she sifted to her contacts and called her younger sister. She was unavailable. A message was more appropriate.

"Umirang Sirati*, please reach me once you get home. Orchids in north."

She stood and went for the exit, but not before closing the lights and conditioning of the library one by one. Closing the doors of the old hall, she closes the locks that flank the entrance, shutting the archives shut. The door's mechanism began to move by itself, the reliefs aligning itself into an image of the fire.

In its spindling lines, the Holy Librarian saw further change.

[Tinza]

---

Kelsang Karpo, RLM Leader
Lotsawa Palace, Sprakhams, Tinza, 1200 hours, November 30th

---

As the sun shone down upon beautiful courtyard of the ancient residence of the Line of Lotsawa, the screams of men alive, dead and dying filled the air. Across the courtyard, and outside the vast palace complex, the unmistakable sounds of war could be heard. Steel clashed against steel, as bayonet struck sword; for in this last ditch, desperate battle, even the ceremonial guard of ral-gri bcan had been drawn in. Men in steel and women in cloth were cut down alike by the shower of lead death unleashed from the unwieldy bootleg automatic assault rifles. Deafening howls of pain escaped the mouths of men turned living corpses, bones protruding from their bodies where they had been maimed in the fighting. Amidst the madness, the unmistakable flag of the people's revolution - a deep red banner, defaced with a golden cog-and-star - could be seen fluttering in the wind, advancing through the fighting. It was held up by a young woman, having seen no more than twenty years, who fiercely charged into the fray, screaming "For the Revolution!".

President-and-Leader Kelsang Karpo's eyes were drawn to the young woman; clearly, she was a picture-perfect symbol of the people's revolution. She was brazen and brave, charging headlong toward the enemy, toward the past, without an ounce of hesitation; her commitment to the cause, to the future, unyielding. Not to mention that she wasn't difficult on the eyes; though, in fairness, Kelsang had always taken a particular fancy to warrior-women. As the fighting continued, Kelsang committed his men to the fight. He had been holding back, up until now, weary of any further forces to arrive to reinforce the beleaguered foe. Yet it seemed as though the "great" State Preceptor had neglected to study a single page of military strategy. The story had been the same since the first non-local divisions began pouring in from across the country; they were simply told, Kelsang assumed, to repress the rebellion at all costs... and those costs seemed to have cost them greatly. The Drogonist forces were unorganised, even in comparison to the RLM, and they made the laughable mistake of bringing heavy armour to ricefields... it was not difficult for the more mobile RLM to outmaneuver and capture - with ease - the Drogonist tank corps.

And, so, with the past twenty-three days of advance on his mind, Karpo and his men entered the fray. They stormed through the gate to join their comrades fighting on the inside, their presence moving the battle further into their favour. Atop his black steed - Karpo had always been one for fanciful displays of power - Kelsang shouted "Brothers and sisters, let us liberate this palace in the name of the revolution!" at the top of his lungs, before galloping his horse straight into the fray. It took only a few more minutes of fighting before the garrison surrendered; and, with that, the last major bastion of state power in Sprakhams had been liberated by the Revolutionary Labour Movement. The Line of Lotsawa, nowhere to be seen, had lost their ancestral home, and Drogon had lost the District of Sprakhams.

State of Tinza, circa November 30th 2017

[Tinza]

---

Drogon Tsering, State Preceptor
Palace of Everlasting Harmony, Ladumra, Tinza, 0500 hours, December 26th

---

Silence filled the ancient palace in the great slumbering city of Ladumra. Only the chirp of crickets, and the murmurs of other nocturnal beasts, were to be heard in the empty moonlit courtyard. The quiet footsteps of patrolling guards could be heard only barely, muffled by the eerie sound of silence. The palace itself was dimly lit; only the office of Drogon Tsering remained illuminated, by the light of a working man. From the courtyard below, one could see through the office window clearly enough to perceive the older man passing back and forth, a look of deep thought heavily embedded upon his face. The guards patrolling the courtyard dare not stare upon him, for they knew that was too much a risk; that they might draw his ire. For, if he were awake at this late hour of the night, there was likely something troubling him deeply.

In the darkness, a messenger scurried towards another with great haste, before revealing a sealed letter. Saluting, he handed it to a palace guard, whom upon receiving it quickly broke the seal and laid his eyes upon it.

"Orders, from the Everqueen herself." the messenger said.

"At this time of night?" the guard replied, puzzled.

"Her Great Majesty cannot sleep. Who are we to question her enlightened orders?" the messenger replied.

The guard scowled, and handed the letter back to the messenger.

"I take my orders from the State Preceptor." he replied, firmly.

"A shame." the messenger replied.

In a quick and impressive motion at that moment, he revealed a sharpened dagger from his cloak and without hesitation spun it around his hand, and dug it deep into the guard's throat, holding his hand over the guards mouth to muffle the ghastly noise of his untimely death. As the life left the guard's body, the messenger signaled something to a man hidden in the shadows. The man signaled something more at another man, and at that moment what must have been a hundred or so armed servicemen descended onto the palace. The silence of the night shattered by the sounds of war. Pouring in through all the gates - which had been opened from the inside - the servicemen made their way towards Drogon's quarters. Upon arriving there, however, they found it abandoned. Upon attempting to leave the palace, they found themselves surrounded.

From outside the walls, Drogon sat atop horseback, looking into the sealed palace at the members of a failed coup. Rounded up and trapped like rats. Drogon's own men had long since occupied the entire perimeter of the building; escape was impossible. He nodded to his subordinate officer, who gave the command to charge into the palace. What a messy coup, Drogon thought. So poorly planned, so easily outmaneuvered, yet still so messy.

[Tinza]

---

Tsewang Lhakpa, the White Raven
Cholarabs, Lungpanya, Tinza, 0100 hours, December 30th

---

The sound of footsteps upon stone echoed through the wide hallway as Tsewang advanced down it. The secrecy of everything drained him greatly; how he yearned to simply reveal himself for what he was, and yet how far away that was to be. He would simply have to live with it for the time being. The saving grace of this situation was that he had been notified that there was big news; news he would want to hear with his own ears.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Tsewang arrived at the end of the hallway. He handed his envelope - sealed with the mark of the White Lotus - to the door's guardsman. The guardsman nodded, opening a secret passage and allowing Tsewang to pass through. On the other side of the secretive entrance, the White Raven found himself surrounded by a number of influential members of the White Lotus conspiracy. This unnerved him greatly. So many members in one place at once? It felt eerily akin to a trap. Nevertheless, Tsewang nodded to the members present and took his seat on a plush feathered pillow.

The eldest member of the gathered group, a well-bearded though graying man of short stature well into his eighties, stood to address them.

"Brothers, I am sure such a crowded meeting must displease you" he said, to nods from all gathered members, "but I assure you, this matter is one warranting discussion".

The elderly man then dropped an opened envelope into the centre of the circle of gathered men. Tsewang knew from the envelope used that it was an Intel package.

"Our intelligence gatherers have discovered another of Drogon's ploys" the elderly man revealed.

He then dropped a second envelope onto the ground; from it spewed numerous photographs of a familiar face, held within a heavily-guarded complex.

"Phu-bo, true name Lhakpa Nyima, yet lives."

[Caltarania]

---

Kya II, Everqueen of the Tinzans
Palace of Amadawa, Ladumra, Tinza, 2400 hours, February 23rd

---

Kya awoke from her sleep. Her eyes were heavy, weighed down by past sorrows, and by the weight of days long past. Another night alone. Her eyes panned her bed chamber, scanning over every detail to try and find greater meaning. There was none to be found. Unable to return to sleep, Kya turned to face outwards, lifting herself from her bed. She strode across the ancient floors until she reached her closet. She walked in, slipping her footwear onto her feet and her gown across her shoulders before exiting. She passed by her bed as she head for the doors, leaving her room to pace across her palace. Hers in name only.

As she walked, she admired the luxury which surrounded her. To her left, a garden was completed by a serene running stream, which ebbed and flowed from one side to the other, carrying within it many a koi fish on which the palace prided itself. To her right, an ornate wall was adorned with ancient art, depicting an era long lost where the Everkings of old led Tinza through its darkest hours and greatest trials. As she strode from one side of her palace to the other, the story unfolded, time reversing as it echoed back to times long past. Her father stood stout, shielding the realm from the wrath of far-flung threats. Gyatso the Brave, it dubbed him. Her grandfather stood beside him, sword in hand, facing off against the Dragon of the South. Tsultrim the Mighty. On and on, the line of Everkings and Everqueens stretched. Rinchen the Wise. Youdron the Elder. Karma the Shrewd. Thekchen the Kinslayer. Norzin the Conqueror. On and on, the unbroken line of rulers leading back to the Moon herself stretched. Pema the Truthtalker. Tsomo the Conniver. Jamyang the Inheritor.

At the centre of the piece - at the start and end of the story - was Amadawa herself made flesh; Tselha, the Great Uniter. She was artfully depicted, as the Daughter of the Moon so rightly deserved. Her hands were drawn beautifully, each holding a symbol of her power and majesty. In her left, she held the Arm of Amadawa, the great blade of their lineage which had cut down kings and ordained lords. In her right, she clutched a simple trinket; an old golden compass, designed in the style of the Khaturvist tsekhorlo. She was great and mighty, but humble. She understood that in the kingdom of men, the king is only as mighty as those men he rules over.

All the while, here was her. Kya the Prisoner, Kya the Unworthy, Kya the Wilted. How could her - a palace urchin - ever hope to live up to the majesty of her forefathers, of her ancestors who fought armies and conquered nations? Who built grand cities and killed lost brothers? With her, the might and majesty of the Line of Tselha was clearly broken. She was not fit to rule. What a twisted curse of fate that she should even hold the throne at all! As much as she despised that rat, Drogon, better her rule well than she rule poorly. She missed Lhakpa; he was twice the man his father could ever be. He taught her how to fight with a blade, once; all in secret of course. If Drogon had known he might have killed them both. That thought disturbed her, if only because it then crossed her mind that the twisted man might have indeed condemned his own son to death.

She pondered this notion deeply. Then, as if summoned by her thoughts alone, she saw his shadowy figure striding towards him. He was walking with great speed, at a fast pace. She smiled as she saw him approach, but he did not reciprocate her warm expressions. His face remained cold as stone, even as he drew closer. When he finally reached her, she embraced him.

"It is good to see you!" she exclaimed, holding him tighter. His grip was less tight, and he seemed eager to end the embrace. "Why are you here? And why did you stop coming, I was worried about you" she prodded.

The White Raven was apprehensive, but eager to move with speed. He withdrew from the hug, even as she protested, and looked directly into her eyes. He allowed himself to put on a smile for a short time.

"Well, I felt like mixing things up" he remarked, before his smirk turned to a scowl. "Plus, it's difficult to come see you when my father bans me from the palace" he told her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Never stopped you before" she giggled.

He frowned. "I fear that he might go a bit further this time. We have to leave, as quickly as possible. It's not safe for you here any longer".

As he said this, Kya's eyes darted behind him. She scanned around, and saw five men in dark robes holding large pole-arms advancing towards them quickly. They bore no marks nor symbols, but inside, she knew who was responsible. Tsewang himself turned to see their approach. He unsheathed his sabre and, seemingly without thinking, passed it on to Kya. She gripped the hefty blade, looking up at Lhakpa as he then took a more modern weapon; an assault rifle. As they did this, they began to slowly edge backwards, as the robed men increased their own pace. Eventually, the men stopped, and brought out rifles from under the cloaks.

"Go, now!" Tsewang said, turning to Kya.

They both bolted, running towards one of the palace exits. As they ran, Kya tried her best to keep hold of the heavy blade. It was not the same as the wooden one she had trained with; it was heavier, and far harder to grip. They zig-zagged through the palace halls, dodging more and more groups of enemies. Kya noticed as they ran that there was also another group; men in white robes. She saw those men unsheathing blades - ancient blades. Blades that belonged in museums or to the old Lineages. Eventually, the pair were brought to a halt. They reached the Southern exit, only to be blocked by a group of five men in black robes. As Kya prepared to accept her fate, she noticed four white robed men run at them from two directions. "Protect the Everqueen!" she heard one of them shout, before Lhakpa grabbed her by the arm and ran out the gate.

The White Raven led her outside to a secluded street, where a nondescript car waited for them. Lhakpa opened one of the back doors and Kya jumped in, as he followed. He tapped on the back of the driver's seat, shouting at him to move. Like that, the driver slammed on the pedal and the car took off. Kya was caught up in the moment. Had Drogon Tsering just ordered her murder?

[Victoriala II]

Kwan'im, Queen of the Lion Throne, Daughter of the Sun, High Priestess of the Cult of the Flaming Lion

Sijang.
4 months since the closing of the Northern Border.

“They what?!” Si Danah slammed her hand upon the round table, much to the shock of almost everyone (aside from Her Glorious Majesty) sitting.

“Lhogrong has been fully overtaken by Xiaodongese forces. The Revolutionary army and the Red Lion armies have retreated westward and they are still struggling to regain ground. Perhaps we should stop waiting for a reply from the north.” Si Ahom spoke in a terse but composed manner.

“Moon-mother’s cunt.”

“We need concrete actions now. An ample force from our infantry and our navy should be enough to express our intentions to both Rongzhuo and Ladumra and lay out our next moves.

“We already have troubles in our western border with the Narmadi-suckling bandits, you want to stretch us further by moving north?! We already can’t keep some villages in the Budhingan giving them shelter because you people are fucking not budging an inch about those heretical apes!”

“I advise you do not speak of it openly, Si Danah. These sensitive matters require deliberation of Her Glorious Majesty’s interests.” Saramat interjected.

“I’m not taking words from a cock like you, alright?”

“We said stay your tongue or we’ll cut it from you.” Si Amaia answered, before turning on the whole council. “We’ve been sitting here behind barbed walls and cannons for months, sisters. Months. We cannot ensure they wouldn’t come to us next. Si Ahom's heart is in the path of reason.”

“How about we throw you off the northern-fucking-wall with a sword and gun? That would be more convenient!”

Saramat was visibly angered. “This is no way to speak to the Chancellery of the Throne, general. Any more of this and we will have you disciplined firmly.”

Three generals, the chancellery and her sister argue in front of her as the rest of the Council of State cringe or grimace at the ordeal. At the prime seat of the round table lie Kwan’im, silent, intently listening, fingers on temples and unwilling to speak up.

It was the magic hour in the city. The room was Sun-kissed.

“Your Glorious Majesty?” Si Ahom

In a deep breath, Kwan’im removes her hands from her head.

“The Sakarists proved already time and time again that they’re loyal to the throne despite their politics. Their position is convenient and important in Kraunam, so it’s best that we can have them handle the matter there.”

Si Ahom looked at her queen in disbelief. “Your Majesty, you don’t mean--”

“They love the whole jig. They act in my name and will do as I say. Them being there will give good optics to the Flower-King for that reason alone. They’re also the only people palatable enough for Narmada to talk with for us. Might as well get them there.”

Si Amaia leaned towards her ear, hiding her mouth with the sleeves of her robe. “I advise caution, Your Majesty. Your final statement would be tantamount to playing with fire.” Kwan’im nods thoughtfully.

“Well then. Prepare the document later. I need you there.” In response, Si Amaia gestured with her palms and proceeded to leave. Kwan’im then faced the council, and stood up.

“Alright, let’s be real here. we’re all know too well here that if we hit those lizards with a stick, we’re going to die, right? Show of hands if you agree.”

Everyone present, except for the two generals, raised their palms. She sniggered for a moment, and took a deep, exasperated sigh. “Ma Si Danah, you are relieved of your posts. Minister Hrim, please take note of her and Si Ahom for examination with me.” The Minister of Battle complied and scribbled on her pad. I need to fire these two.

“We still need to stop them taking over the north. The cockroach in the hole is, we can’t do it alone. Were need to cushion our losses in this big-ass risk.” She clapped each word in the last sentence.

“You know the only good thing about this? Everybody hates the shit out of those lizardmen. The only problem is that no one is assed enough to do something about it. Together. If we don’t start anything with them now, we're all fucked. Those spooks in the west coast have their eyes here. We need to sail and we need to do it under a bunch of other armies.”

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, are you sure that this coalition you propose will be effective in pacifying the aggression? Most of the coast has been ambivalent and static on the matter.” The Minister of the Exterior replied.

“That’s because we’ve been looking for the wrong places.” Kwan’im gestured to Saramat to come closer. “Uncle, notify my entourage that we’re going for an overseas flight. Set up a direct call to Qung, tell them we’re visiting in good will. Do the same to Senria once we’re done. Prepare necessities and keep any mention of these away from the press. Everyone else, this meeting is adjourned. Radiance bless you lot.”

Everyone was already leaving, but Kwan’im gestured Minister Hri and Si Ahom before they reach touches the door.

“You are authorized to prepare a contingent to combat Xiaodongese activity. We will discuss plans further when we get back home. Talk to the press, keep this from getting leaked to the public. If there are any snoops, call their employers, get them fired. If there are anyone hostile, kill them. Dump their bodies in the spinach marshes or something. Nobody must know.”

Liannu, Thearch of Lazin, Brother of the Sun and Moon, the Most Enlightened Guardian of all Akai

Qung.
The day after.

The celestial cantons in Qung were once more in motion, lacking that still silence the Thearch often loved. This time there was an intimate sound, that of crying babes in the distance. His children were something he fretted about considerably, and their sounds annoyed him consistently. He found them adorable when peaceful and that is why he ultimately elected to keep them nearby and with their mothers. The twins were destined to rule thanks to his mother’s scheming and the circumstances of their birth, Crown Prince Huia and Princess Hu’an being utterly inseparable and barely distinguishable as well - not that their mother the Grand Empress Tiangtsia would have them. She secluded herself to treat them well but still received visitors to keep up with her machinations. Empress Giaasiau's child Princess Huchun was about as silent and deathly still as her - seemingly barely present in this world. It still lived and seemed healthy if just aloof. He had heard that she was also blessed by the Sect of Starry Wisdom, Giaasiau’s patron mystery cult of the God Xüahyua one of the Khaturvic remnant deities still featured in the dream of the Godhead. And Empress Lialiasia’s child Prince Hurian was one of the more impressive of the bunch, weighing more than any of his siblings and possessing already some strands of silver hair. Hurian was also the one Hulang found to suit him the most, shame he was not his heir for now at least.

Still, the boy knew his children were a less immediate matter for him for another was on the horizon. It had been about a year since his wedding and since Drogon had slighted his family. It has also been a year since Drogon in his incompetence allowed his country to slip into civil war, and increasingly piecemeal chunks of Tinza has been falling into chaos as it became the hub for proxy fighters, and mercenaries hungry for the the loot brought on in war. The Grandmastery of War had ensured that some of his father’s old regiment - Giaaka’s Blade as they were known were deployed. Their primary purpose was to support the monarchy of Tinza through whatever means deemed necessary. They largely were trained for these sorts of long isolated operations and had enough supplies thanks to an overseas network of drones and planes which would air-drop supplies in secure locations allowing them to act with a reasonable degree of movement. The unit was largely under the command of Chief Censor Tshunaai Ngghagkün - a man whose son he was good friends with. I do wonder how he is fairing in Razaria as of late.

Their main targets as far as the reports read and as far as he knew - he could never be so sure of the accuracy of such documents given the uncertain nature of his court - were the RLM who was seen as a potential major threat. This was informed by the many veterans of the Seven Heads Insurgency including the Grand Commandant Mung Tshantsu himself. Hulang had to chuckle inside whenever he went on a rant about Thaiakiaam or the Seven Heads - he always lost himself in tales of heroics long past and a lust for war unmatched. And now Tshantsu sat behind his desk whenever he wasn’t trying to organise a war game for him to command, bored mindlessly. Tshantsu, the Thearch knew as ultimately a loyal man but a brutal and dominant one as well. He was one of the few people who could’ve made his father look small, with a black burly beard and now in his old age a girth to match his immense height.

He was to accompany him along with to meet a peculiar guest, on rather short notice as well which Hulang quietly thanked. He would rather not put on ceremony but he was still formally dressed as he nearly always was. Long black, gold and red robes, with a magnificent cloak, attached to Acanic pauldrons on either side although these were silk and thin so they would be worn in the great spring heat. He was sat in one of his plentiful gardens, watching the hummingbirds pick at the variety of flowers on display. It was on the south facing garden of the central palace canton and was flanked by waterworks on either side, which sloped down the pyramid-shaped building. He sat with a book on a desk he had underneath a pavilion under the misty sun. The book in question was On the Fundamental Order of the Burning Light, a fundamental text for understanding Min’s general direction. He found it an intriguing one but much like Nenad Vestiborev’s texts which were recommended to him by uncle Prince Khiaang, they were quite heavy reading. Next to him were his notes, which were a bizarre mixture of calligraphy and shorthand notes which to anyone not acquainted with the prodigy’s style would look like the writings of a deranged man. To the left of him was Hurian, sleeping in a cot on a small body of water overseen by his mother Princess Lialiasia and a maid looking uncomfortably paranoid.

“How much longer until Kwan’im will be here?” he inquired to Tshantsu, who stood next to him in a long flowing set of robes, his head covered like Hulang’s by a mask although he took the features of a peacock, with the feathers adding to the extravagance.

“Not long I imagine, although her request in the first case was pleasantly surprising. It seems Gwöng'an’s efforts have finally paid off in that direction,” the Grand Commandant responded somewhat mournful of his old friend.

Hulang leaned back into his small throne brought to the table and steepled his hands: “All under heaven is chaos, the situation thus is excellent. But let us hope the winds are reliable as they usually are.” He paused as he contemplated: “I recall Drogon quite liked father did he not?”

“Yes and no, your most sacred majesty,” Tshantsu responded. “Giaaka was long able to provide the poor tyrant with the support needed to maintain his influence and... illegitimate rule, I worked on doing such projects for a while actually.” He began to adjust the feathers ever so slightly. “This was Tiangtsia’s initiative mostly, but the overal goal of the family remains the same. To secure the crown of Tinza and to anchor it into our own sphere.”

It was fortuitous enough that once the conversation ended, a plane about the size of a domestic flight in Tuthina landed in Qung's airstrip. Base-white colored, save for the wings bedecked in the sigils of the Sun and the red fin flash of a golden lion in a halo of fire.

The royal delegation from Min arrived and was rather modest—not numbering over nine people (two of the royal familes, one chancellor, the Minister of the Exterior and five guards), terse in movement and the guards only bearing sword and rifle (in most cases, they wore armor and wielded shield and bayonet). Only the queen and her sister Kanha, the Holy Librarian the only ones wearing robes and ornate hair, though their display of swords showed their similar caution (Kanha herself brought her feathered [zhuxi xin/Sukasan] denoting her status in the Royal College). Beholding them from a distance is a maidservant, bedecked in black and bowing upon them. All, except Kwan'im, flanked by Kanha and Si Amaia, had an aura of unease. Si Amaia herself held tight her amulet.

Kanha herself glared at her younger sister in suspicion. “Sister, I hope you have any fucking idea what you're doing. These men are heretics.”

Kwan'im had no qualms. “Don’t get worked up.”

She, followed by her companions (save the guards) bowed with clasped hands in response to the Acanic servant. “Namate Jaya.” Kwan-im greeted her in Kawi.

The maidservant, without words bid them welcome. The only words she spoke was when she gestured to follow her. <Please, come.> It was in Acanic which, despite half-intelligible, was understood well enough by the Min.

Led by the young woman through the long, ornate boats leading directly to the palace. Kwan'im, who knew Monic only through Kwa, asked the maidservant through it, hoping she would understand. <How long has Your Majesty been waiting?>

The maidservant understood half of it, and nodded. <We will be there in a moment.>

“Uh,” Kwan-im was rather dumbfounded. She didn’t continue the thought.

It was not long until the boat has reached its destination. After being guided through some elaborate external pathways on this ziggurat-like structure, they came to a garden of some description. Beheld them are a small collection of black masked guards wielding bayoneted rifles and shields, standing at the pillars and corners about every five meters or so around the perimeter and a veil of steam before an empty garden path. The maid stopped and gestured to follow the path. As the party prevailed they were greeted with an immaculately designed garden which prominently featured the steaming sapphire waters of the crater lake they were placed upon. Flowers from across the country and a path covered by rugs displaying geometric patterns. As they followed it they were eventually met with a small elevated hill upon which the pavilion of the Thearch was, and there stat Liannu at an Acanic lower desk with a few seats abound as he sat reading his volume along with his sibling and empress in the distance looking over a healthy but resting child and some kind of elderly man with a peacock aesthetic. Liannu had his face covered by his three-eyed mask with his octagonal solar crown around it. The Thearch looked up from his rather cluttered table and gestured to a servant nearby to clean it up and then beckoned over: <“Welcome to The Palace of Still Flows, Your Most Glorious Majesty, please take a seat”>. He did not get up as was custom for sovereigns of his type and watched as his notes were gradually compiled in an orderly manner. “I do hope your journey here was most pleasant, although I should ask” he paused, “would you prefer Literary Kwa or Pala to be the language of discussion?”

Kwan’im was impressed by the variety of flowers surrounding them, with a slight smile. She faced the host head on with a radiant yet modest expression. “I am most pleased, Most Honored <Thearch>, Most Honored Consort.” Kwan’im nodded to the two. “We are fine with either, though it would be more formal <if we used Monic words.> She gestured her companions to sit before she followed last. The faces of the Min party sat pokered, a protective measure hiding their unease and suspicion (which was not entirely unfounded, the Min had heard a good number of stories about the horrors of Acanic repression).

It wasn’t long before she dropped the ball on why they came here. <While we would thank your realm to entertain us in such short notice,> Kanha gave Kwan’im a file from her briefcase, documents and media pertaining to the war in the north. <I believe we have much more pressing matters to attend to.>

Kwan’im spoke rather measured but abrupt. <Xiaodong is getting bolder and bolder with friends across the continent. Tinza is teetering to invasion and collapse and the Queen in the North hasn’t listened to consent to our offer for aid. Our loyal militia aren’t getting any further at Lhogrong, and the other members of the Tengkong We have no choice but to directly attack without legal cause. We...> She sighed. Fear. <We are already amassing troops in our southern ports.>

Kanha’s eyes widened with surprise about what she’s witnessing. Good fucking heavens, she doesn’t. She faced the Lazins,

The Thearch nodded as he listened to the Lion Queen spoke about the matter at hand in Tinza before letting his fast low voice respond: <So I am aware, my eyes can see through mists like these and well I must concur that your own position is quite weak.> He nods, <While I do not think such bloodletting is without divine sanction, This orphaned one, must divine the realm of Min cannot achieve such a thing alone can it not?>

The words the pale man gave her gave her anxiety some relief. In place of her, her chancellor spoke up. <Forgive me for intruding, yet we could pull it off, theoretically. We have the people and the arms needed. But the Army haven’t fought anything this great for over hald a century now. If we dare strike, we have no choice but to face the Dragon’s maw biting back.>

<That’s why we closed the border four months ago.> Kwan’im nodded. <That’s what we’ve been dreading. Retaliation.>

<So this lonesome one must apologise for his ignorance, but I assume that your chancellor and council are also in agreement on this matter? >

All four nodded. Kwan’im herself rested her hand.

The placed his thumb underneath his mask’s chin, tapping it in contemplation before continuing: <And we have excluding my servant’s own operation’s have not fought a conflict of any kind since that conflict which anteceded my father’s reign.> He said referring to the ill spoken of 1984 conflict. <But I must ask, most importantly before we go further in this, why should I, Lord of Myriad Years, dishonour my father’s policy of peace? To rectify this is a major action against not a mere peasant tyrant but I imagine also those vulgar creatures north of you would take issue. Such a thing is a commitment given the passivity of the Kyriarchate. You see this present axis is an unnecessary one for my thearchy to be made to obey and in essence, your reasoning auspicious one would be most appreciated.” The boy had the tone of a savant or a prodigy, but at this point the lines were somewhat thin between the two.

The Min party had no idea where the conversation will go--rather, they have now expected for the worst. The young woman facing the thearch know full well enough the consequences of the whole ordeal. Kwan’im remembered the time she threw a rock at a beehive. I’m gonna need a torch to do it again.

She helps herself with a cup of tea as she speaks. <We have considered it before, as well. Both our predecessors have kept peace as the fullest principle, indeed. That is why my mother, and her mother opted for our whole operation grounded on fending off and keeping them out, and letting the Kyriarchate prod the republic for us. The problem right now, however, is that the boy in white’s regent doesn’t.> She takes a sip and takes a deep sigh. <Rongzhuo is kin with those god-eating lunatics in the west. If this gets any worse and they get their way, whatever we--Sijang, Qung, Ladumra, Sakan, whatever--have been building up for all these years, it will unravel.> She takes another sip. <Drogon just killed a rightful ruler and is trying to pin the lizards for the crime. I suspect he’s in on the whole scheme.>

Kanha stayed silent at the horrifying realization. Dharma is closing in the age of chaos. She muttered in Pala. “Moon-Mother guide us.”

The Thearch rather calmly laughed before nodding to one of his aides. After a moment, shade began to cover the garden as a cover pulled over. <A well reasoned argument and an amusing indictment of our terrible siblings and rival families from lands afar.> Once the cover had put the garden into shade, the Thearch nodded to his Marshal still standing who tend removed his mask and then the Thearch proceeded to do the same. The boys androgynous face stared back with a confident but dispassionate smile accompanied by a harsh fixed gaze.<You are correct in the fact that Rongzhuo must be constricted by the ancient serpent in the east eventually as they did the last time that land became so arrogant.> The boy Thearch looked into the misty distance at the further cantons before turning his gaze back. <Does, the revered one know the meaning of Gwöng'an, my father’s era name?>

<Our little knowledge of Acanic lends mostly to our knowledge of Kwa. I presume it the first character meant ‘brilliant’?>

<It means strong or ordered, depending on the context.> Liannu politely corrected, <The latter means peace. He in a sense sought to bring peace to this often troubled land and restored order, sense and balance but did so through awe inspiring force.> He paused to contemplate his next words. <While this orphaned one am not my father; I do understand why he appreciated it. This region which has loved prosperity so much is cursed and is doomed to fight needlessly for the axis between Sakan and Rongzhuo forces its efforts needlessly against one another. One wonders about whether the nature of this age to continue like such and I am doomed to misfortune in my reign or that I can forge something in this state. We should direct our efforts in accordance with order despite this, something I wish to do both within the realm control now and the realm which is yet to blessed.> He then moved the book on Fundamental Order back onto the table, albeit in the corner. <The God-eaters must be humbled, so must the vain dreamers of Rongzhuo and so must Drogon as well and a new order can be forged from that. We shall drive their mongrel hides from their cities and let them contemplate the tragedy of their sin that way.> He quickly turned as the sounds of the babe began to echo again distantly, before continuing his point. <I must conclude, we are in possession of the chance to reorder things towards nature and to change the character of the divine song. For while we may be heading into the act most treacherous, it is still one we can make well out of. Drogon you see, has insulted my family - or at least my grand empress-mother has by remaining irreverent on the matter of the Everqueen who has so tragically perished and has furthermore despite what some of my advisors would say.> he spoke as he turned to the Grandmaster of War briefly, <has run out of luck. He deserves to be punished for such mockery at the very least and someone more noble supplant him.>

Kwan’im was taken aback by the choice of words. It was a bit too much, yes, but that has been the case for this continent for quite some time. But she wouldn’t know that, her sister would. She chose her words more carefully. <We both struggled for peace and radiance, then.> She puts down her cup. “The eternal tapestry <is showing fragility. We’ve been lounging around for too long. we’re going to have shake this whole operation up, I’m open.> She faces her sister at her right. “Venerable sister, I need your wisdom.”

Kanha took a short moment before taking a breath. “For once, you’ve been acting like a queen should. I applaud you.” The words had no sense of distaste nor distrust, a first to her sister. She faces the Lazins once more. <Her Glorious Majesty and her Council of State has long been considering the realignment of the balance of power before this chaos ensued. We expected we are the last in setting this in motion.> She looks at Kwan’im, before facing back. <This piece of the continent is of the Dharma-Lokadhatu and has always been, yet I concur that it is fragile. Moreso than all of you have been expecting. A wrong move shall consign us all to eternal chaos. This threat from the west must be treated with absolute care.>

<It seems that everyone present in this confluence is now in one spirit.> Kwan’im smiled. This is going well productively.

<I appreciate your sense for the delicate matters of state, and [...]> Liannu listened curiously, and patiently: <I must explain, that we already have some forces operating in Tinza already. These are some of my father’s best men and are being managed quite cautiously to combat the forces of those who oppose our interests. The Revolutionary Labour Movement is one such target according to my the Grand Commandant here> he says gesturing to the elderly auburn haired swarthy man on the left. <They can be turned against Drogon soon when appropriate.>

“I sure hope they haven’t shot one of our militia in Lhorgrong yet.” Kwan’im chuckled, expressing the frivolity of her statement in Pala. Yet, the worry is there. You can’t make friends with people who killed yours. She hopes the decree back home reaches them.

Hulang looked slightly suspicious but phaned a look of bemusement, <Pala I presume? Anyways> he said getting distracted by his child again before he began to recompose himself: <I should ask, what do you desire of my forces now? We are willing to contribute quite a lot should you need this orphaned one’s assistance?.>

<Ample reinforcements. Enough to cushion any potential blows. Though, I expect the Thearchy to have a key stake in the coming conflagration. So, if possible, We could create a common force with the royalist rebels.>

<Heaven’s willing, The North maintains their role as Lord Rulers of the Night Sky, as we are of the Burning Sun.> Kanha added.

<Marvelous> the Thearch said with a cautious glee. <the Everqueen was… ever distant family you understand, I am fine with merging some our forces together into a common force although it might be practical for you to also be able to dissociate from some of them. Doctrinally Hulang turned to the Grand Commandant, giving him the right to speak - enabling his booming rough voice to finally be used: <This is more than possible but I was also going to suggest reinforcing your own forces near Xiaodong as well to contain the bastard IFDS forces when we must eventually retake what they have stolen. Furthermore, our naval might alone is second only to the Tuthinans, we can provide logistical support and maintain a consistent policy of bombardment with our submarine fleet and carriers. Furthermore we will be willing to entertain the use our own equipment to help supply our forces.>

<I do want ask, what is the end that you wish to see in Tinza? The Everqueen restored to her usual place or something more like what you possess in your own realm, Auspicious One?” The Thearch inquired.

<That’s what the Everqueen would have wanted as well, I believe, and the direction her kin and loyal subjects are going> Kwan’im took her tea once more. <But in the end, we only seek Dharma reign once again.>

<I believe this a the start of a most auspicious alliance, shall we have our deputies formalise this?> The Thearch asked but then quickly added <This lonesome ones do know you are here for this entirely there is a matter that does concern you realm. Any open ties with my demesne will due to the ill… presentation of my realm over the past few decades be quite unfortunate. While this orphaned one seek to change some aspects of this inaccuracy, I wish to propose a few efforts to help make this actually appeal to the world wise enough to appreciate our efforts.> He then had a cup of tea delivered to himself, his own a type of green tea of a faint warmth. <Perhaps a visit might work?> he somewhat jokingly suggested.

<That would actually be great, but maybe we’ll have it another time. Perhaps once this country’s gained a better image.>

Kanha spoke. <Formalization of this partnership today shall be fruitful. Though, its better to discuss the specifics of this partnership in an immediate time after this. Today, we are simply setting the course for action.>

<So it is settled then?> Kwan’im took her final sip before putting down her empty cup. <The Lion and the Phoenix now rally as one.> Her party nodded in agreement.

<And so it is willed, may the dawn of the age of void be all less arduous for us all.>

And so it goes.

Walking away in conclusion, Kanha leaned closer behind Kwan’im’s ear. “I couldn’t believe you made a deal with the devil.”

Kwan’im laughed. “And it’s the best we’d ever had. Make good use of it.”

[Caltarania]

---

Zopa, Daughter of Namdak Tamdin
Eternal Fortress, Gansbjang, Tinza, 1200 hours, March 29th

---

Adorned with banners of all shape and shade, the ancient walls of Gansbjang province's Eternal Fortress shook, as hundreds of bureaucrats and noblemen loyal to the White Lily conspiracy rushed down their halls. The news had, surprisingly, not managed to set a low mood, but instead galvanized their commitment to opposing the regime. Zopa herself instead strode confidently down them, her green silk robe swaying from side to side as she did. She knew she had turned a few eyes, but today seduction was not the method by which she would achieve her goals. Today she was engaging in far less aggressive negotiations.

As she walked, she was approached by a number of intelligence officers who fed reports into her ear.

"We've recieved reports of Min and Akainese forces operating in the country" an elderly officer told her. "They seem to be opposing Drogon and the Xiaodongese in Lhogrong, but we can't decipher much more than that".

Zopa nodded in response, before waving him away. Two more men approached, informing her that the RLM advance was faltering but still holding their positions.

She had hoped to beat the new arrivals to their meeting place, but life had alas gotten in the way. She soon saw the new arrivals, stood waiting at the entrance to the Fortress' interior. Their appearance was fairly unmistakable; pale white skin that they inherited from their Lazin background, the dark hair borne by their bastard founder, and the ancient and intricate robes and armours created by their dedicated craftsmen. There was no mistaking it; these were the men of Su. As Zopa approached, she let out a smile to welcome the newcomers into the conspiracy. Bowing once she had reached them, she welcomed them.

"Brothers!" she exclaimed, examining the three men in front of her from head to toe. "It is a great honour, and greater still pleasure, to meet with you today".

The three Su men stood in front of her were stoic in their stance, and their faces cold and hard, but their eyes told a different story. In their red eyes, Zopa saw fear and regret, fear that they were already too late and regret that they had not stepped forward sooner. Be she also saw hope; hope that there was still time for them to act. As all three men bowed in return, the tallest among them spoke.

"The honour, your majesty the princess, is all ours." he said, in a deep tone. "On behalf of the Su lineage, I can only offer my sincerest apologies that we did not step forward before the great tragedy".

Zopa let out a smile. She gently edged forward, holding the man's hand and looking deeply into his eyes.

"Su Dhardon, it is my greatest pleasure to inform you that your mourning is misplaced" she told him, before turning to pick up a file from an inferior stood behind her.

She picked up the two files he was holding, before nodding, gesturing him to return to his normal business. She carefully opened the first file, and flicked through the pages inside. As she flicked, she looked carefully for the relevant page. She soon found it, and pulled it from the file. She smiled, and handed the file to Su Dhardon, the man in front of her.

Su Dhardon squinted, looking puzzled. "Your highness, what does this mean?" he asked.

"Operation Sacred Burden was, although derailed from our initial plan, a success" she told him, her smile yet to fade. "Our agent Tsewang Lhakpa - yes, the son of Drogon himself - succeeded in his mission" she added.

Dhardon stuttered. "She's alive?" he exclaimed.

Zopa nodded in response, her smile unwavering. "She's alive; the Everqueen yet lives" she repeated to him. "In addition" Zopa said, before ruffling through the second file she had been handed.

"Phu-bo - that RLM rabble-rouser - also lives, although he is under government lock and key" she told him.

Dhardon raised his eyebrow. "The rebel lives, what of it?" he replied.

"It gives us leverage over the RLM hordes" Zopa snapped in reply. "Our influence is vast, my lords, but we can't hope to topple Drogon and the RLM both" she told them. "Our plan, though it is still under fierce debate, is to exchange this information with the Reds in exchange for a truce until Drogon is defeated".

"And you would sully the good name of the Line of Su with this madness?" Dhardon angrily retorted.

Zopa sighed, before sliding her hand onto his shoulder gently. "My lord, my good friend, let us keep the bigger picture in mind" she told him, before leaving a gentle kiss upon his cheek.