Never the twain shall meet [Complete]

by **Drakonian Imperium** » Wed Mar 15, 2017 2:58 pm

Like a great bird, the massive jet glided gracefully down onto the runway. The Drakonians called these jumbo jetliners "SkyEmbassies". Operated by the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps., the SkyEmbassy was a variant a military transport and civilian passenger aircraft. Named for their ability to fully function as embassy or consulate when operating abroad, SkyEmbassies were only deployed on the most sensitive and largest of diplomatic missions.

This great bird had three decks, the two main decks were a full length passenger deck and a full length cargo deck, while the third upper deck, which served as a command and passenger deck, gave the forward section of the aircraft a distinct hump. The aircraft had two massive engines under each dramatically swept back wing. Painted a metallic silver, a single bar ran the length of the fuselage, it’s core was a line of gold, around that lines of black, then lines of red, and finally bordered by thin lines of black. The Dragon Seal of the Imperium was laid out on the wings and the flag of the Imperium, the Eclipsed Sun, spread across the tail.

As the SkyEmbassy rolled down the runway, waiting on the tarmac were an assembly of Skyans and Drakonians. Among them was the Drakonian Ambassador to Havensky, Lady Adula Vesta. A native of the city of Portulum, on the island of Alyssia in south central Mille Mortifere, she was middle aged, but was still maintained trim figure. She had a regal and severe bearing and had the olive skin of a Drakonian with long flowing brown, almost black, hair, and piercing jade eyes.

Lady Vesta looked to the woman next to her. "Were you aware that Aldarminian Emperor had a family?"

"It wasn't in the intelligence dossiers I've read." Gaia Calpurnia was the personal aide to the Director of the Drakonian Diplomatic Corps. Miss Calpurnia wore a v-necked, bright red dress, cut just a little too high and little too tight. The young maiden was one of the brightest stars in the diplomatic service. An exceptional linguist, she had been present in Krytopia for Havensky’s admission onto the Gholgothic Council of Lords. For this meeting, she had been dispatched with the advance team and arrived in Citadel City a few days ago aboard a cramped military transport full of Praetorian Guards.

Next to her, the Lady Vesta wore a darker and far more conservative outfit. The Millian aristocrat wore a long emerald green gown, with half sleeves and a high cut neck. She covering this with a black stole scarf embroidered with intricate flower stylings in gold thread.

Lady Vesta turned back to the plane. "So many soldiers," she said dryly.

Gaia nodded, her own eyes falling upon the honor guard sent by the Drakonian Embassy. They stood in formation, two rows of five men each, with their officer, a major, standing in line with the first row. The guardsmen stood pillar straight, their legs shoulder-width apart, left arm resting behind their back while the right held their rifle barrels, the butt of the guns resting on the ground, rifles tilted forward at a slight resting angle. The bayonets affixed to the tip of their rifles glistened in the sunlight. 'Stand-at-Ease,' Gaia had heard the officer call.

The guards' uniforms consisted of a stand-collar tunic, a deep obsidian black in color with the dark violet piping and shining gold buttons, matte black pressed trousers with a thin imperial purple stripe down the side of the leg, a black peaked cap with its top rim trimmed in purple and a purple band, black gloves, and glossy black dress shoes. In addition, to their assault rifles the guardsmen were armed with a short sword hung sheathed on their left hip and a pistol holstered on their right. The officer lacked a rifle and instead of a short sword he wore a sabre.

On the runway, the great plane had rolled to a stop. The energy of its flight and landing spent, it again slowly began to roll forward.

"You know how we, Drakonians, like to put on a show," Gaia quietly said back to the ambassador. She caught the Lady’s eye and drew it to the Skyans. "It would seem the trait is shared by our hosts."

Across from the guardsmen, the Skyan too stood still as statues in their powered armor. Next to the them, the Praetorian Guard appeared as renaissance soldiers next to fully armoured knights.

The SkyEmbassy lazily turned off of the runway onto one of the taxiways and toward the awaiting entourage.

"Atten-TION," the Praetorian Major ordered.

In a fluid motion, each left boot snapped together with their right, each left arm fell to their hips, and each rifle straightened to vertical alongside the right leg. The honor guard prepared to receive Havensky’s latest guests.

Its journey complete, the great aircraft finally rolled up the to the assembly.

"Slope ARMS!"

Again the honor guard moved to action; again their rifles moved. This time they lept from the ground, their left hand catching the foregrip before the rifle moved across their bodies to rest on their right shoulders, left hands holding the rifle by its stock while the right now moved to rest on their thighs.

A ramp was brought out to the plane to aid in embarkation. When the hatch opened, the first out of the aircraft were another two Praetorian Guards armed the same as the honor guard and in the same full dress uniforms. However, there was one difference, these guards wore aiguillettes of gold-wire cords on their right shoulders. In perfect unison and drill they turned and took flanking positions at the top of the ramp. Their rifled remained on their left shoulders and they too stood at slope arms.

Again, another pair of guardsmen emerged from the plane. These marched down the ramp in line, before turning in unison and taking positions flanking its base. They too stood with their rifles at slope arms.

Now a tall man emerged from the plane. He too wore a black uniform trimmed in purple, but he also wore a purple sash bordered in gold from his right shoulder and across his chest. He also wore gold aiguillette from his left shoulder. On his right hip he wore a rapier with a gold basket hilt. Its scabbard black leather with a gold cap and a gold base. His skin was dark, almost seeming bronze in the sunlight, though it was perhaps lighter than most Drakonians; the tropical sun apparently showing it more care. He wore no cap, his brown hair was streaked with light brown and grey. Blue, almost violet, eyes scanned those assembled as the band began to play "Press on, Imperium".

Stunned looks pasted across the faces of the Drakonians. This was not who they had expected to emerge from the plane. First to react was the captain of the honor guard.

"Present ARMS," he barked.

The guards who had emerged from plane did not move. But not the rifles of the Honor Guard, they lifted from the Guards’ shoulders and pushed outward, underside first, right hand coming to rest on the bullpup’s magazines, while the left gripped down just below the pistol grip. In a final snap the guards’ right boot heel snapped down behind their left.

Gaia opened her mouth to announce the man who had departed the aircraft, but in her surprise her voice caught in her throat. She closed her mouth, once more summoning her voice. This time it worked.

"His Imperial and Royal Majesty, Augustus Valens Drake, Praetor of the Drakonian Imperium by the Grace of God, Representative of the People before the Senate by their Will, Monarch of the Realms of Drakonia, and of her Protectorates and Territories, Lord of Gholgoth."

No sooner had Gaia finished speaking then a young woman exit the plane. She too wore a uniform, though hers was trimmed in a crimson red rather the purple. She also wore a purple and gold sash and the same gold aiguillette. Her skin color was a light brown, almost darker then the man she now stood next too, but where the face was different the eyes were same blue-violet. Her hair was black and long seeming woven in lines of small curls. She held a cap under arm and wore an ornate gold-handled basket-hilted rapier on hip. A keen observer would notice that both the man and young woman wore similar badges on their left breasts above their medals (of which she only had a few). This badge appeared as two outstretched wings.

The eyes of the Drakonians again widened. However, this time, Gaia found it much easier to speak.

"Her Imperial and Royal Highness, Liliana Alexis Glorianna Bellona Drake, Princess of Drakonia by the Grace of God, Princess of Mons Regalus, and of Trinitia, Lieutenant of the Imperial Drakonian Army."

The Praetor led his daughter down the ramp and onto tarmac. As they passed the honor guard, the major in charge raised his sabre from his shoulder, bringing the hilt across his face then dropping it down diagonal so that the point nearly touched the tarmac to his left, before returning it to his shoulder. The Praetor nodded slightly acknowledging the salute.

A third figure emerged from the aircraft. He too was tall with olive skin. He wore an expensive black wool suit, tailor-made, covered in intricate silver lacework. It appeared military, also having a stand-collar tunic much like the uniforms of the Praetorian Guard and the Imperial Army. He would be known to the Skyans, for he had represented the Imperial Government in Krytopia at the entry of Havensky into Gholgoth.

"His Excellency, Caius Paulus Octavius Argentius, Prime Minister of the Drakonian Territory of Mille Mortifere, Dux of Argentia, and Lord of various holdings throughout Drakonia and Gholgoth. Honored Representative of Drakonia before the Gholgothic Council of Lords."

The Skyan Legionaries moved from attention to an at ease position with a sharp snap bringing their swords from the front of their helmets back down. As they did so, Secretary of State Atticus and the Skyan Ambassador to the Imperium stepped forward with an offering of salted bread, wine, and juice.

"Your Royal Highnesses, Prime Minister, Esteemed Guests - at the behest and on the behalf of the People of Havensky - welcome to Citadel City. We are honored you have come."

Behind him, an aide was quickly radioing back to the Citadel to make arrangements for the Praetor. The Skyans had prepared, of course, for anything. They were surprised to see them, but it was seen as good news. The presence of the Drakonian Royals here would add weight and heft to the deliberations.

A further figure disembarked the SkyEmbassy. This one too was tall and dressed in same red-trimmed uniform as the Princess, including the gold-wire aiguillette. His posture was reminiscent of the Guardsmen standing at attention. His hair was closely cropped, salt and pepper and as he exited the plane he pulled his cap from where it was tucked under his arm and placed it upon his head. The Skyans would know this man, it was Marshal Ambrosius Brittius, who had established the Imperial Army presence in Milograd and is the chief architect for the Drakonian military strategy in Gholgoth.

"Greetings, Secretary Atticus," said Augustus Drake. "I do hope my impulsiveness is not an inconvenience, but I wanted to see the wonder you have built in the wild." He gestured to the city as way of an explanation.

Augustus Drake’s impulsiveness was somewhat infamous in Drakonia. During his youth he was well-known for escaping his security detail. He and the future Queen had been on a private ski vacation in Lavenrunz, sans their details, when his grandfather had retired from the Praetorship. This time he had the aid of that detail.

"De Nada (It's nothing), your highness. We are honored by your presence. I'm sure the Governor-Mayor would be happy to show you and your staff the city if time allows."

"Excellent!"

The Praetor seemed quite interested in the greeting of bread and salt. He accepted the offering readily.

"Thank you for your hospitality," he said, eating the bread, before also quaffing some grape juice. "Long flights can leave one so thirsty."

His daughter also offered her own thanks as she partook of the ritual. And Lord Argentius and the Marshal soon followed suit.

As the assembly moved toward the motorcade, Gaia Calpurnia looked back to the Honor Guard. Sometime in the interim, the Major had ordered them back to Slope Arms and their rifles once again rested on their shoulders. The Guard had reacted quickly to the Praetor’s disembarkation, she wondered if they had known ahead of time of his arrival.

Augustus Drake looked out upon the crowds as the armoured limousine made its way through Citadel City. With the cameras gone and in the relative privacy of car, his face had turned somber. Those who knew his biography might guess as to the reason. He held a personal dislike of parades. His parents had died in a car on parade in Tersanctus. The victims of a madman’s suicide bomb.

It had been nearly a decade since last the Praetor had travelled outside Drakonia and despite owning considerable holdings in Mille Mortifere this was his first visit to Gholgoth.

On a previous state trip, the Royal Couple had gone to the Lavenrunz Winter Ball. They had ended up on a cargo ship full of heads of state and government while a coup was thwarted and a gun battle played itself out in Lavenrunz Royal Palace. So it was perhaps understandable that the Praetorian Guard would be nervous to have the Royal Family out of their direct care. It thus spoke considerable measures that the Praetor was visiting a City that had been so recent the victim of war.

The crowd, who had been alerted by news media texts that it was now a royal visit, let out cheers as the motorcade drove by. The red flags of the Imperium joined the sky blue Skyan ones being waved by those in the crowd. People were waving and snapping pictures. Kids were pointing at the Legionaries as they lined the streets in a protective cordon.

When Augustus and Liliana emerged from the car, father and daughter both turned to the crowd waving and smiling. They were practiced in this, it was a theatre they had both played their entire lives.

Augustus glanced over to the flagpoles as the flag of the Imperium was raised. He watched it briefly before letting his eyes pass over to the flags of the other Gholgothic States.

So few of the old powers remained, he thought. Damien Dreadfire's Gholgoth Regional Alliance had been built upon personal relationships between the Lords. Those relationships had waned as time wore on. Now Dreadfire was gone. So many of those Augustus had known were dead or gone.

After his parent’s death, his grandfather had Augustus fostered in Tersanctus with family of the Executor. He had grown up with the future monarch, Edmund Dantes. They were brothers and it was that close relationship with Tersanctus that had brought Drakonia into the Blood Pact with Automagfreek, Pantera, Crimmond, and the other founding states of Gholgoth. But Dantes too was long dead, he had fallen even before Drakonia was ushered into that august relationship.

The Lords of Gholgoth, Augustus and Liliana would meet today, they knew now as only faces on files.

Augustus looked to his daughter. The fires of his youth had long since been spent in death, war, and heartache. Her fire still burned bright. Perhaps, it was time to use that fire to build new relationships. Perhaps, it was well time to insure for a new generation, the stability of the Regional Alliance.

As the Drakonian Royals and their entourage moved to begin to ascended the stairs and enter the Citadel, Lady Vesta quickly advanced forward to make their introductions to the Skyan Royal Couple. The Skyan Royals were already outside, awaiting them.

"Your Majesties," the ambassador declared. "May I introduce, His Imperial and Royal Majesty, Augustus Valens Drake, Praetor of the Drakonian Imperium by the Grace of God, Representative of the People before the Senate by their Will, Monarch of the Realms of Drakonia, and of her Protectorates and Territories, Lord of Gholgoth.

"And Her Imperial and Royal Highness, Liliana Alexis Glorianna Bellona Drake, Princess of Drakonia by the Grace of God, Princess of Mons Regalus, and of Trinitia, Lieutenant of the Imperial Drakonian Army.

"I believe you may also know, His Excellency, Caius Paulus Octavius Argentius, Prime Minister of the Drakonian Territory of Mille Mortifere, Dux of Argentia, and Lord of various holdings throughout Drakonia and Gholgoth. Honored Representative of Drakonia before the Gholgothic Council of Lords. Lord Argentius was present at a previous meeting of the Gholgothic Council of Lords in Krytopia."

Jessica Heart, Queen of Havensky and Lord of Gholgoth, flashed a wide smile as she descended down the stone steps alongside her husband Lucas Ironwing.

"Your highnesses, what a pleasant surprise," she exclaimed. "We are honored! We were just expecting the Prime Minister - which of course we're always happy to welcome you to our halls. Come come, let’s head upstairs before Nathan drinks up all the liquor."

Augustus bowed his head slightly in a Drakonian show of respect. "Greetings, your Majesties" he said. "I seized by the desire to see what you have done here."

"Lady Burnham will be flattered! I'm sure Atticus has already offered up use of the Lord Mayor's airship. He loves to bring visitors up for a tour and the views are simply fantastic."

A Legionary captain gestured for the group to proceed up the stairs into a large gilded elevator to be taken to the north tower to join the rest of the party. As the party arrived, an aide announced their arrival.

"It well past time for my daughter to leave her helicopters for some proper diplomacy," he said as the group entered.

"Oh, you're a pilot, lieutenant? My pilot will have to show you our helijet. We keep a small hangar adjacent to the North Tower. How long have you been in the service?"

"I am, your majesty," Liliana replied. "I take after my father. Though he prefers fixed wings." She blushed ever so slightly. "The rank is honorary. I am still at the Imperial War College, but my royal duties require an appropriate military rank. I'll be graduating next year."

"Well, you have our congratulations in advance."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

A waiter brought the party drinks and appetizers. The party would find that their favorite drinks were waiting for them on trays. The Skyans had done their homework and despite the late warning had managed to locate and mix the proper drinks.

"I have gifts for you and your family," Augustus said. "And indeed Havensky, or at the least Citadel City." He gestured to the Praetorian Guard Colonel who had accompanied them from the plane. The Colonel quickly ushered another Guardsmen forward. He carried an ornate hardwood case with gold fittings. When it was opened, four jewelled daggers were revealed in metal scabbards.

The Praetor took one out slightly unsheathing it to reveal a blade that shone bright as if made of silver. The blade was double-edged while the dagger appeared to be of a medieval style. It had a wide crossguard and was over a foot long. On the hilt and the scabbard gold enamel over silver, and small rubies, amethysts, diamonds, and pieces of jade were set as adornments. "I had these commissioned by our very best metalsmith. You will note the blades are not steel, but a very rare and valuable metal, known as Mithril. It is stronger and lighter than steel, and will hold an edge through far more difficult use. There is one for each member of your family."

He sheathed the dagger and gestured another Guardsmen forward. This one bore a large basket. It seemed a simple enough basket at first glance, but upon closer inspection would reveal it to be hand-woven. Such was the intricacy of the weave that small threads of red silk and gold had been added to provide color. The inside pile high with some of the wealth of Drakonia; varieties of fruit, the best citrus, oranges, grapefruits, and limes, as well as an array of chocolates, a bag of coffee beans, and a bottle of Imperial Drako Vineyards 1889, the personal vineyard of the Drake family.

"And for Havensky," Augustus continued. "I have personally arranged the transfer of a number of animals from Drakonia to your city's zoo. Among them the Disian Monitor Lizard from the jungles of Varathron, a Gholgothic Mammoth captured in the far north by the Gholgoth Arctic Survey, and an Essan Panther, a favorite of Liliana’s."

Both King and Queen bowed accepting the gifts. Lucas took the dagger and removing it out of its sheath to inspect it, admiring the lightness of the blade. An aide took the basket for safe keeping.

"These are very fine gifts," said Lucas. "The quality of this blade is magnificent and our head chef tells us legendary things about your vineyards. I'm most excited about the additions to our zoo. This will bring a great joy to the children of this city. We thank you very much for each of them."

"I am glad." Augustus smiled. "It is a rare pleasure of mine to give such gifts to a fellow monarch."

"If you'd like, I can introduce you to the other Lords your Highness," Jessica remarked as they made their way into the crowd of Lords.

"Yes, please!" Augustus looked to his daughter. "That would be greatly appreciated."

__________________

OOC: This post was co-written with Havensky.

by **Havensky** » Fri Mar 24, 2017 4:08 pm

Atticus’ car was pulling out from the Citadel’s private drive when his wristglass began vibrating incessantly and flashing.

Again.

His staff had been told that he’d been out of pocket for most of the day and that he wouldn’t be answering his phone. However, it seemed that this caller really wanted to get through. He pulled out his earpieces from his coat pocket and tapped his wrist.

“This is Atticus.”

“Sir, we have Captain Skaro on the line for you. He’s quite insistent.

Hold on, I’ll pick up on the secure line seven.”

Atticus hit a button on the console of the car and the windows tinted dark and the space between him in the driver sealed shut. The soft music from the radio reverted to static as every signal shorted out. The outside world become completely silent. A handheld phone inside the car began to ring.

“Captain?”

"The operation has already begun, The Jagites are being rounded up as we speak.... Dietrich has agreed to the terms"

“Thank you Captain Skaro, we are pleased by this show of cooperation. We shall dispatch a Humanitarian Fleet immediately as previously discussed. We’ll talk further soon. Goodbye.”

Atticus hung up the phone and immediately picked it back up.

“This is Control; Go ahead Secretary Atticus.

“Send a priority message to the SRS Heartknight Consular; Alcestis is a go.”

by **Havensky** » Mon Apr 24, 2017 7:42 pm

At the appointed time, after everyone had arrived, the hostess began to walk around and gently tell the guests that it was time to make their way towards the Gothic Chamber. The wait staff gracefully excited the lobby area and the bar closed up shop.

The Gothic Chamber in Havensky was a church like building on the roof of the Citadel. It was only accessible through a hallway which bisected a garden area with two rows of Crimson King trees seen through the clear glass of the hallway. The leaves of the trees retained their dark maroon color despite it being early summer. The trees were almost the same shade as the Gothic flag and so the designers had thought it appropriate to align the entrance of the Gothic Chamber with them.

As each guest walked down the red carpet, they would see the windows transitioning to stained glass. They would be greeted by two Iron Guards who would open the door as each delegate walked through. The Sergeant of the Guard would then direct each delegate to their assigned seat at a large round table. Their staffs would be directed to desks just behind their leader. The delegates gifts had been laid out in a welcoming letter that was placed on their table. The first was a twin of the throne they now sat on, inlaid with the seal of their nation. The second was a barrel of Sky Marshal Whiskey - a sampling of which was on the table in front of them. The third was a sapling of the Crimson Maples they had just passed on their way in with the hope that it would be planted as a sign of friendship. The last thing at their seats was not a gift, but a packet that included the meeting agenda and the proposal of several Gothic Reforms.

The concept of calling the batch of papers a proposal was selling the documents short. In truth, it had been Lance Atticus’ magnum opus. It had taken months and weeks of diplomatic talks between a dozen nations. The document contained the hundreds of staff hours from countless staff at all levels of the Skyan Diplomatic Corps. It was simply, the best possible effort the Skyans could possibly give towards breaking the Gothic habit of either doing nothing or going towards full scale war.

The document contained traces of all the frustrations of the Milograd, Hab Centre Six, and countless other pointless scuffles had comprised recent Gothic history. The document tried to present a hopeful tone against the tide of impossibility. A plan for peace even as Skyan warships moved towards slaver holdings.

The first proposal: The Gothic Praetor

Section A: The Gothic Praetors

Gothic Praetor are extralegal agents with diplomatic immunity accountable only to the Gothic Council and are charged with maintaining stability and security in the region. They are afforded diplomatic immunity and the right to enter any nation in Gholgoth as part of missions authorized by the Gothic Lords. Praetors are not trained, they are chosen by the Gothic Lords based on an individual’s service record, character, and trust.

Gothic Praetors serve at the pleasure of the Council and their status can be revoked at anytime. A Praetor Mission must have the approval of the Council before deployment. This is seen as a measure that’s above a sanction, but below a full military mobilization.

Praetor may act alone or assemble their own teams. They do not receive funding through the Council, but must raise their own funds. In practice, militaries of their home nations often provide salaries and equipment.

Praetors are only activated during times of declared crisis. Praetors may be inducted into the ranks at anytime, but the Gothic Council decides which Praetors to activate during a crisis. When the Lords declare a crisis over; the Praetor is deactivated. Praetors maintain their rank and resources in order to stay at a constant state of readiness.

The enactment of this reform would be as follows:

- Each Gothic Lord submits two names from their nation for consideration to become Praetors
- Initially, one Praetor per nation is selected.
- Upon a crisis, the Council may authorize a Praetor mission
- Whenever possible, a Praetor from a third party will be assigned
- Praetor would be granted offices Gothic Embassies located in each nation.
- When deployed outside the region; they act with the authority of the region and not just their nation. This is a preferable option than mounting an invasion fleet or dealing with an invasion fleet.

The thought was that the deployment of a Praetor would be a step between taking no action and going through to a full scale war. In theory, Atticus has written out in a memo to his counterparts, a Praetor would have been sent to deal with Scandinavians supporting pirates in The Golden Throne. The team would have helped defeat the pirate threat - thus making The Golden Throne whole again. This would have eliminated the need for The Golden Throne to invade Gholgoth. Additionally, Atticus had suggested that a third party would be optimal. So, Havensky’s Squall wouldn’t be selected to settle a conflict between Kraven and Havensky. However, Squall could be authorized for the Macabees/Scandinavian conflict.

If a Gothic nation was unwilling to cooperate with a Praetor, there was always the next step up in escalation.

The next reform idea had come from Caesar Silvier Catherina Silvanus IV.

Section B: The Executor of the Gothic Alliance

The Executor of the Gothic Alliance, traditionally, had always been the ruling member of the Dreadfire Dynasty of Automagfreek. The Freekish, and the Freekish alone, were the only nation in the whole of the region who could enforce their will over all others with the threat of force. Thus, the system - as simple as it was - worked. However, the Freekish have now fallen silent, and the Alliance has become decadent and unruly.

A new shepherd is needed to lead the flock, to serve as a voice and a face to rally behind when the Alliance is under threat.

The Executor of the Gothic Council is responsible for chairing the meetings of the Gothic Lords during emergency sessions and for executing the will of the Council. Upon arrival of the Lords at the designated time, the Lords will first vote to declare a crisis. If crisis is declared, the Lords will nominate and elect one member to be the Executor. This Executor will serve for one year or until the majority of Lords declare the crisis over. Additionally, A vote of no confidence can be passed against the Executor through a two-thirds majority of the Lords, which will then convene an Emergency Session and elect a successor.

During meetings; the Executor does not vote nor argue for/against positions. The Executor is considered a neutral authority. This implies that Lords whose nations are directly involved in the crisis are not eligible for nomination.

During a Crisis; the Executor manages the operation of the Praetor program including mission assignments, routing intelligence reports, parameters, and briefing the other Lords.

Naturally, Atticus assumed that the Caesar would be put up for a vote. The Skyans wouldn’t contest the election due to the next proposed reform.

Section C:The Gothic Capital: Pax Gothica, Dreadfire Isles

Currently, all Lords must meet in ULE City despite the absence of a Dreadfire.

The Skyans propose constructing a new city at the center of the region that would serve as the capital of the region. This city would be extranational territory - funded and managed by the designates of the Gothic Lords. Every nation in the region would have a mission district that would be the territory of their nation. At the center of this city would be the Dreadfire District - which would hold the offices of the Gothic Lords, the Council Chamber, and the Airport/Naval Ports.

Location & Geography
The location would be in the center of the region using the Dreadfire Isles created by Novacom during a previous conflict. The islands are small, being roughly the size of Manhattan. The central region runs through the center of the island, with square shaped districts being on either side. The airport is at the end of the island.

The Castellan of Pax Gothica
The Dreadfire District would be administered by the Castellan of Pax Gothica - An administrative agent appointed by the Gothic Council charged with maintaining the city, the Council Chambers, and ensuring the ability of the Gothic Lords to meet whenever they desire. The Castellan shall be provided a budget from each Gothic Lords in order to maintain the city including the hiring of staff and funding of infrastructure. A portion of this budget will come from sales tax charged by the various districts in Pax Gothica. Castellan’s serve a term of four years unless retired by the Council earlier.

The Skyans would lobby for the appointment of the Castellan. It was a technically a non-political position, but the Skyans had a small army of city builders who needed employment and never would pass an opportunity to build another big city of great import.

Section D: Phelgethon, Gothica and Pandaemonium
Phelgethon and Pandaemonium are two fortresses that serve to coordinate regional forces from both external threats and to aid in the enforcement of actions mandated by the Gothic Council. They also serve as training facilities for Praetors.

Phelgethon will be located in Gholghant. The other deep within the Tartarus Mountains in Kylarnatia. Gothica would be located in the center at the Dreadfire Isles.

These were necessary actions to help affirm the commitment to regional defense. This would also give the Ghantish something to point to in terms of their own security - something that indirectly would also benefit the Skyans as well. Gothica would end up being a neutral territory and the closest thing to a unified Gothic Command structure. At the very least, the hope was that by having staffs working closely together in Gothica it would open up back channel communications next time tensions flared up.

Of course, the entire plan would only work if all the Gothic Lords believed that it could be enforced. So, while Atticus was the open hand there was another force at work. Task Force Hell, full of righteous rage at the unprovoked attack upon Citadel City, was heading straight towards Vismer to mete out retribution. Atticus hoped that the Lords would talk the Slaver Empire into backing down before it came to that, but history had a habit of disappointing him.

Still, with so many gathered here, there was cause for cautious optimism. it was odd that having so much work put into the document, that he wouldn't be the one presenting it. Instead, he pulled back the chair for the Gothic Lord of Havensky Queen Jessica Heart. As she sat down on her throne, Atticus took the seat just behind her at her right hand.

Atticus took a sip of water and pulled out his tablet and began to fidget. There was nothing more he could do for the moment but wait for everyone to sit down and for the Queen to welcome them all.

by **The Scandinvans** » Fri May 19, 2017 10:27 am

"I do not seek out the righteous for their way to paradise is clear. I do not hunt the dres'Erid for their commitment to the path is absolute. I seek those who have embraced the habits of the dres'nalar for their souls have been compromised. I purge the dres'nalar for they are unworthy of mercy and whose very existence is an insult to the one on high. In his name do I act and if need be die." (The Invocation of the Faith Militant Inquisition)

As the dawn breaks the darkness the heir of Erid is bound to greet the sun thanks to the Almighty. By basking in the first rays of the day does the ambasaddor between heaven and earth become reforged by the liege lord of the Scandin daily. Through this was the faith of the Empire renewed each day. A reminder of the need to constasntly seek to combat one's own sinfullness and that each day represented another chance to bring one's self closer to the will of the Almighty. The rite additionally serves as a means by which the dreams, which are viewed as maninfestations of one's innermost fears and desires in Scandinvan culture, of the night were held to be appealed to the Almighty.

By performing these duties did Crown Prince Fenric manage to attain a better sense of purpose each. Especially in these tainted foreign lands where these things required so that the influences of the sinful would be erased with each day. These rites further served the need to add a mystial quality to the daily life of the sovereign of the Scandinvans. As the morning rituals helped to provide a basis for the unique identity of the reigning monarch Something which made the throne more aloof and seperate from the daily affiars of both the world without the imperial palace and within it.

After finishing his dawn bath and putting on his prayer garb Fenric consulted with a number of his personal staff on the situation with the Council. Whilst nothing of important had happened as of yet, mostly due to the covert method that the Scandinvans had used to prevent public attention in Havensky from being turned on them, there was still a deep need to turn the attention upon the Scandinvan cause. The proposals being discussed at the meeting threatened what the Scandinvan Empire actively viewed as an attempt to curtail the traditional rights of lords to operate largely free from the constraints of the other Gothic nations so long as it did not provoke war. However, Havensky's contious harboring of alien forces hostile to the Scandinvan Empire had forced their hand. They had turned from being an ideological nusiance to being a knife at the back of the Scandinvans within the region. A force which sought to destroy the status quo and supplant the old order with a region solely conssiting of liberal democracies. The very type of scheme which so many had tried to force Gholgoth to accept over the years.

With such a framework it became easier to establish the course that would be needed to directly confront the menance that Havensky posed to the long term health of the region. Using proper arugments the Scandinvan Crown Prince hoped to be able to sway ciritcal voices against the proposed reforms. Whilst noting the ongoing efforts of the Skybound Republic to bring more unwanted alien intrigue into the region. Inteference which would ineviablty attempt to wrangle away the accpeted identity of the Gothic Lords.

However, in an effort to have a bit of fun with the press of Havensky. Frenic deicded to have a simple note leaked to them. One designed to make the 'freedom loving people of the Republic" better understand the worldview that they sought to eradicate One which would remind them that their world was based off of lies and petty utimately meaningless concepts. Though the exactname of the source would remain hidden as it would just be submitted by Scandinvan diplomatic staff through offical channels.

"You cannot understand what we are for you, despite wearing the flesh of humans, are still fundamentally animals. You fight not in the name of the sublime, but merely for survival and the chance to earn access to ever greater resources in a unfettered environment. Your freedoms, your hallowed rights, your commerce, and your equality are all abstractions created in pursuit of this. The ideals you espouse are no more than excuses for your excess, justifications for your blindness, and rationales for your depravity. In the end you are nothing more than clever creatures who lack any truly worthwhile purpose and will yield to the sheer willpower of those who fight for the sublime truth."

All the while he and his entourage departed for the Council meeting. Before leaving he made sure to put on the crimson/black garb of the Inquisition and the flowing indigo imperial robes. Things designed to make the Crown Prince seem more aloof and deny his enemies the chance to put a face onto him as the crimson hood of the Inquisition garb had the effect of hiding his face entirely.

With him he carried a hollow full size silver cross which Fenric hoped would mark him as a devout figure unconcerned with human desires. He additionally aimed to give the airs of a fanatic so that the delegation of Havensky would be put at unease.

In his company he dragged along a single female slave. The sister of the now condemned traitorous lord who had defected to Havensky. A move he hoped would cause a bit of rancor when it was announced to the public and put Flicker into such a state that he would be unable to properly help analyze the Crown Prince's behavior from a Scandinvan noble's point of view. Thereby removing expert testimony on the culture cues being given by the Crown Prince.

by **Havensky** » Fri May 26, 2017 5:48 pm

The air still held the smell sawdust from the newly constructed wooden beams overhead and long wooden panels that ordained the upper balcony. The architect had taken care to hide the eponymous city skyline behind stained glass so that the venue felt neutral than Skyan. The designer had taken cues from the original Gothic Chamber in ULE City. It was the intent of the designer that when you stepped into this room you would be in the heart of Gholgoth. That you would forget that one was standing just above the heart of Skyan government. The red accents, the heavy stone, and the organ that played the most serious of melodies.

However, it was the newness of the building that gave it away. The room lacked dust, the scratches and dings of use, the history that gave ancient rooms their distinct feel. There were lights and cameras throughout the room to help record the proceedings. On each side of the organ, there were large screens that could display the speaker. The entire building was wired for secure internet at the highest possible speed. The acoustics of the room were perfectly balanced. Despite the ancient styling, there was no doubt that this room was part of the new world.

As Crown Prince Fenric walked through the doors, they brought in the air of the old world wearing the regalia of ancients and flanked by guards.

The Skyan Queen stood on the other side of the room and might as well have been on the other side of the world. Jessica Heart, Gothic Lord, was dressed in a simple white pantsuit and flanked by no one.

The old world and the new. These worlds would clash. It had already been written. Time seemed to flow differently here as if to pause as the ancient monarchy stood across the elected representative of only democracy in Gholgoth.

The Skyan Queen looked down upon Fenric as she stood behind the dais.

She could see he was wearing a mask. She didn’t need the hear the voice of Flickr, a Scandin lord who had defected to the Skyans, to guess that the young woman in the emperor’s entourage was a slave. She did not show her deep resounding anger at the insult of bringing a slave to the free city. By law, the slave could simply cry out for refuge and the White Guard would swarm in to protect her. However, for now she simply smiled. She knew that Fenric was here to make trouble. Tradition stated that she had to make one last gesture for peace - no matter what.

“Crown Prince Fenric… we welcome you to the Skybound Republic. I take this as a sign that you have seen the error of your ways and have come to talk of peace. We welcome this development even at this final hour. Even now, Knight Marshal Richard Bexar has been named Supreme Allied Commander by the forces that are arrayed against you. You may not care for your men, but you can save their lives. Even you must see that the actions of the Sons of Erid have done your nation no favors. Come, sit and we shall prevent their actions from dooming your empire.”

IIwiki Admin · by **Ghant** » Sat Jun 17, 2017 3:43 pm

“A Mind for Reform”
The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky

The Emperor of Ghant’s conversation with the Aldarminian Empress Katya was a pleasant one. They discussed their respective families and explored ways that they could bring the two closer together, though naturally any such marital arrangements would be years off. Fortunately, time was an asset to them, as they each had many children, and thus, plenty of potential matches that would reveal themselves as the subsequent years rolled by.

After some time, a hostess found Nathan and Katya in their secluded conversation and informed the two of them that the time had come to make for the Gothic Chamber. To this the Emperor nodded, and offered to escort Empress Katya back to her party before reuniting with his. The Skyans certainly do keep a mind for business, the Emperor thought with amusement as he observed them close the bar. A shame, I would have wanted to get something to drink…

It didn’t take all that long to find the Aldarminians, and the Emperor returned Katya to them with all the proper etiquette. It was here that he reunited with some of his children, those being the Crown Prince Nathan, Princes John and Victor and Princess Valentina. The four of them had been mingling with their Aldarminian counterparts, with a few guards keeping an ever watchful eye upon them. “Let’s go,” their father instructed them passively. “To the Gothic Chamber.”

The three boys made their way in a small cluster ahead of their father, while Valentina hung back with her father, as she often did when she had such an opportunity. “The Aldarminians are odd,” she told her father. “They have numbers for their princes even if they didn’t rule. That’s not right, father! They should only have such numbers for regal names.”

Tell me about it. “…You have to remember, Val, that the Aldarminians are different from us,” the Emperor told her with a gentle hand atop her long, silky red hair. “Their ways are peculiar, but that doesn’t mean that they are wrong. It just means that they are different…like many of the Gothic nations.”

“Many of the Gothic nations are either bad or stupid,” Valentina frowned. “Or both!”

The Emperor grunted slightly and tightened his mouth as he looked around. “You shouldn’t say things like that. They are our allies…”

“Why, just because they’re close to us on a map?” she asked pointedly. “The Kravenites aren’t our allies, they’d carve us up like Christmas hams if they thought they could get away with it!”

At this point, Nathan looked around the room to see who might have heard his daughter squawk about such things. “That’s enough of that, Val. Mind your tongue, lest I have Rolli take you to your room.”

She nodded, but not before making a baby face and embracing her father’s leg. Ahead of them, the princes walked through the glass hallway and admired the Crimson King trees flanking the path towards the chamber. The only way to the chamber was through this hallway that ran through a garden consisting of these crimson leaved trees. He looked on purposefully as they made their way into the Gothic Chamber. The chamber itself was at the top of the Citadel, something that the Emperor tried to think little of, for while he wasn’t afraid of heights, they could give him a feeling of vertigo.

The floor of the glass hallway was lined with a red carpet that ran its length, and the emperor took great strides upon the fabric as he took note of the glass walls of the hallway changing into stained glass as the distance to the chamber entrance was closed. Two Iron Guards opened the closed doors of the chamber first for the cadre of princes, and then for the Emperor, his daughter and his immediate retinue.

The Sergeant of the Guard welcomed them, and directed the Emperor’s children and guards to desks behind the Emperor’s assigned seat at the large round table of the Gothic Lords, in the form of a throne. Each of them did so, though the Crown Prince’s eyes lingered upon his father’s throne as he walked slowly towards his desk. The exception was Valentina, who took her father’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I don’t want to go over there,” she said meekly. “I want to stay with you. Let me sit with you in your Gothic Throne, father.”

Nathan smiled somberly, and turned his eyes from his chair, to his daughter. Would that I could, my child, but the eyes of the Gothic Lords are upon me now. “I can’t, Val, believe me that I would if I could.”

“Yes you can, father,” she embraced him tightly. “You’re the Emperor of Ghant! You rule Zahaghant, Gholghant and Dienghant! You can do anything.”

If only that were so. “Amongst the Lords of Gholgoth, I am but a small man, my child. The weight of expectations and the demands of conformity are greater than even I.” he pulled away from her, but bent down to put his hands on her shoulders. “I’ll just be a few feet away. Now go, it’ll be alright.”

She frowned, but obeyed, slinking off in the direction of where she could sit. Satisfied with that, the Emperor approached his chair at the table. It didn’t take him long to find his assigned throne, where gifts awaited. There was a copy of the Emperor’s assigned throne with the great seal of the two-headed eagle of his house, a Crimson Maple Tree sapling that the Emperor could plant wherever he pleased within his lands, and a barrel of whiskey with a sample nearby for the Emperor’s pleasure. Oh, thank the Gods for that…

Besides the gifts, there was a packet that contained the meeting agenda and a list of the proposed Gothic Reforms, which the Emperor began to read over carefully after he threw back his glass of whiskey. He glanced back at the desks behind him, giving a reassuring look to his red-haired daughter, and shifting his eyes between his sons and the recently arrived Lara Jarasa, who nodded to her Emperor as she thumbed through a dossier.

Emperor Nathan turned his eyes back towards the proposals that he held in his hands, and began to examine each one in turn.

…seems like a good idea, the Emperor thought as he scratched his chin. Could probably settle a lot of problems this way instead of the clusterfuck we have right now. Nathan thought of at least a few people he’d consider nominating for Praetor, though other questions lingered in his mind. For instance, how would this system work in wide-spanning empires, such as Ghant? Would the Praetors have jurisdiction in all Ghantish lands, or just those in Gholgoth? Such questions would be ones he intended on asking later when it was opportune.

The second proposal caught the Emperor off guard, and it was something that he was a bit more concerned about than the first. I think I know where this one is going…

Please, for the love of the Gods, let this not be Silvier, the Emperor thought as he rubbed his forehead. The last thing that woman needs is an ego boost. Then again, Silvier could very well have been the least worst option of any possible Gothic Lord to serve as this Executor. Better than any of the Scandinvans or Kravenites, and hell, at least it won’t be me. The last thing Nathan wanted was to be Executor, given the responsibility of the post. I have a hard enough time being Emperor of Ghant, and I’ve been doing that for thirty years…

The third proposal seemed far less troubling, and like the first proposal, rather ordinary by comparison.

Seems pretty agreeable. The Emperor found nothing objectionable about the third proposal, and found the notion of not having to deal with ULE City anymore. His thoughts on that proposal were fleeting, however, given the fourth and final proposal. Nathan’s face lit up as he read through it, until a look of glee swept across his face upon completion.

Yes, absolutely, Nathan thought with a nod as he set the final proposal down. The Scandies nor the Kravenites would dare mess with Gholghant if we housed a Gothic Fortress there. Naturally, there would have to be a discussion with the Steward and the Great Lords of Gholghant about where the fortress would go, though of course Nathan had his ideas. Centrally located, perhaps in Jarasa. Lara’s father would no doubt be chomping at the bit to have such an asset in the mountains that formed the southern boundary of his province.

Though, I shouldn’t be putting the cart before the horse. There were many Gothic Lords present and yet to arrive that would undoubtedly have their own opinions and ideas about these four proposals, and besides, the meeting had not even begun yet. In light of this, the Emperor sunk back into his throne and made himself comfortable, as he waited for the other Gothic Lords to arrive and for the meeting to officially commence.

by **The Scandinvans** » Sun Jun 18, 2017 10:05 pm

Hidden behind his robe and his mask the Crown Prince smirked a bit. He comprehended that he succeeded in planting a negative thought in the mind of the Queen. This development, regardless of the context, benefited his short term agenda at the meeting. He wanted to make the people of Havensky feel uncomfortable as if they were perturbed they would be more likely to act irrationally.

The reason for this type of tactic was relatively straightforward from a Scandinvan worldview. The daily regulations imposed on each Scandin caused them to develop a great deal of capacity to regulate their emotions in nearly every situation. This trait in turn made the normal Scandin seem overly dour when in public. However, among hearth kin (members of an extended clan) there was no compunction to hide emotion as canon law prohibited blood relatives from betraying the secrets of their relations for kin right deemed all such testimony tainted as it was believed that only the debauched would betray their family save on accusations of treason im which their duty to all was to act. A situation which would be difficult for dres'nalar to properly understand to any reasonable extent and thus served to Fenric's advantage in his mind.

From the reports about the Skybound Republic their people were largely a much more base civilization. People who knew nothing in life but the drive to satiate their petty lusts with no higher purpose guiding them. These sentiments, despite seeming to govern their Queen, certainly could not rule her. They nonetheless could be used to force her to give less calculated and therefore more honest answers. Yet, this approach would be best employed later. For now he would simply indulge in his own little games.

Turning his head towards the Queen he examined her for a second. He took note of her appearance first. He simple attired marked her as one who did not fully live up to the title she held. In effect the Queen was a peasant pretending to be something much greater, An upstart peasant who presumed to be equal to those who had spent every day since their birth preparing to lead their people.

Finished with his assessment Fenric said," Your grace, I am afraid you slightly misunderstand the context under which I have deigned to attend this summit in person. I come to represent the sovereign rights of my people. I have come to defend the ancient prerogatives of the Gothic lords. I have come to offer you a chance to drive out the foreign invaders that you contentiously harbor in violation of the ancestral customs of our region. We Scandin have only acted in a manner designed to defend the legitimate of our region. By our occupation of Shen Alamru we sought to prevent the development of a bastion for a government which had submitted to the influence of Allanea, the enemy of all true Gothic peoples. By our attack on Citadel City we hoped to remind your people of their obligations to not constantly host enemies hostile to other Gothic nations.

None of us actively seek to do harm. We Scandinvans merely were partaking in the traditional privileges of Gothic nations to deal with outside powers as we see fit. The only reason that the Golden Throne currently can project power into our region is due to Havensky serving as the center of their regional operations. Thus it is ultimately they and not the Scandinvans who invited war onto our shores. It was never out intent to potentially risk the peace of the region.

The Sons of Erid are a reform movement merely aiming to restore the national ethos of the Glorious Empire of the Scandinvans. There designs have never involved plans to, in the foreseeable future at least, aimed to potentially harm other Gothic Lords who did not seek to do harm to the sovereignty of the Scandinvans. Even now we would accept peace with Havensky on the condition that they withdraw all support for Maccabees and expel all their armed forces from their Gothic holdings."

by **Emperor Pudu** » Tue Jun 20, 2017 2:33 pm

Chamber of the Gothic Lords
Citadel City, Havensky

The retinue of the Pudite Emperor was extensive. Many of their number had been seen in the parade from the airfield earlier today, though a great deal of those had returned to their respective accommodations outside the Citadel. Even still, dozens of attendant servants, guards and advisers still accompanied Emperor Jilang Dengmu Pudu in his preparations in the private rooms the Skyans had provided for them. When the time came finally to decamp for the summit hall Dengmu had to pare down the number of followers for comfortable accommodation of the hall the Skyans had purpose built for this meeting. Some he chose were government professionals, like Xian Longji the Imperial Academian and Lucius Salvias Otho, the Special Representative to Gholgoth who brought along his own small staff; others were tokens of the Imperial rank, like Chai Sang the Emperor's valet and a senior monk in an order sworn to the throne, or like Kaeso Vorenius a castrato and the First Voice of the Imperial Choir; the remainder were guards, typically the Emperor would be accompanied by eleven of the elite power-armored Palace Scholars though today only one, Caius Cominius Victricius the Captain of the Life Guards company of Scholars, would appear alongside his liege. The Emperor and his seven attendants began their march through the long white marble corridors to the top of the Citadel.

In the gardens of red-leafed trees outside the meeting room the company took pause, following the lead of their Emperor. Dengmu had stopped to admire both the foliage and the view from the large windows overlooking the city below. Otho was at his side, the rest of the party behind. It was the closest the two men had come to a private meeting since they had arrived in Citadel City. After a brief silence Dengmu spoke, "Lucius. It has been a long time." Speaking deferentially, Otho answered softly, "It has. You, Prince of Daram and I a lowly foreign office functionary." Dengmu stifled a laugh, "With your last name, Lucius, you were never lowly. I'm happy to find you here, to know that good men still do good work for the Empire." Otho felt a momentary swelling of pride, "Thank you, your majesty. It is an honor to serve." Dengmu gave him a knowing smile, "Well, I'm glad you still feel that way. When we knew eachother back in Daram I don't think either of us would have chosen this life. For two men without aspirations we certainly have come a long way." Dengmu then turned back to the windows, "I find myself savoring moments like these more than I used to. Quiet moments of beauty to hold on to when things are worse."

Otho said nothing, appreciating the Emperor's words and keeping the quiet in the moment alive for a bit longer. Dengmu spoke again, more solemnly this time, "Worse times are coming, Otho. For some, they are here already. It falls to me to initiate this new tumult. We will make war, Otho. Are you ready for a war?" Otho stood quietly and still, his mind turning over thoughts of those he left behind in Shen Almaru, thoughts of destroyed cities and of the pain of the last war. "I don't think I've ever been ready for war, your majesty. This one less than most." Dengmu nodded, "Honesty. Good. I'd like to thank you, Lucius, for all you've done and all you will do in the days to come. This will not be easy. Gird yourself now, for it all begins here." With that Dengmu strode ahead toward the pair of Skyan Iron Guard posted at the door to the hall and entered. Otho hesitated a moment, watching his Pantokrat lead the way. For better or worse, Otho would follow him.

The Emperor entered first, still replete in his dark blue Horseguard uniform pinned with his many ribbons and medals of service, the jeweled sword he had been gifted clasped to his belt and Chai Sang the plain robed monk standing just behind him. These two made for the throne that had been decorated in the Imperial Crane sigil of Dengmu's rule. Chai standing behind, the Emperor seated. Xian Longji and Lucius Salvias Otho took the nearest desks behind their lord, and their staffs behind. At the edge of the council chambers, finding a place among the crowd of press and Skyan security, was Captain Victricius in his amber and gold colored armor and flowing red cape. The photographers positioned around him would find him hard to jostle as they maneuvered to get their shots. Of course, the Pudite journalists in the pool wouldn't be flashing cameras, as it was considered improper, but they had their notepads out and were scribbling frantically, even now, catching every detail of the delegations as they came in, and recording the exchanges between the Scandin lord and Skyan queen as it happened. A camera crew from Channel One, a Pudite television network, was also set up and rolling.

The first thing Dengmu noticed was the gifts their hosts had laid out for them. He began to parse the dossier on the Gothic reforms while indicating for Master Chai to pour him a whisky. Otho similarly dispatched one of his staff to fetch them drinks as well. As Dengmu read through each proposal one of the pool reporters in the back approached Korinna, Otho's press liaison, and handed her a page from his notepad. She scanned it quickly, underlined a passage, and made a face like she had smelt some sour milk. She passed it up to Otho. The ambassador looked down, it was the reporter's transcription of a conversation that had just happened between Prince Fenric and Queen Jessica. The underlined portion was Fenric's comment about Shen Almaru. Otho grunted and took a long swig of his whisky. He wouldn't be passing this up to Dengmu.

The intrigues of his attendants unknown to him, Dengmu sipped on the whisky and finished his assessment of the proposals before the council. They were interesting, to say the least, but they were not what Dengmu was here to address. War had been made on his people; he was here for only one reason. The Pantokrat spared a single glance for the Scandin prince, his outlandish garb and accouterments only solidifying in the Pudite's mind the man's identity as a zealot and one beyond reason. There was no way of dealing with men like this other than force. Even as they sat here that force was descending on Vismer and Shen Almaru. Soon, all the cunning words spoken here would be behind them and the matters of the day would be decided by strength. Dengmu would drink his whisky and wait for that day.

by **The IASM** » Thu Aug 03, 2017 8:02 am

Chamber of the Gothic Lords
ULE City
Automagfreek
Gholgoth

HULANG

Gholgoth was a place which had a certain grim feeling to it, one well suited to the brutish reality it faced. The Akai had always treated very carefully and ever cautiously among the ranks of the Gothic Giants; their foothold of Yahashi was their main seat of power in the halls meant for nations like them. Yahashi was founded by one of the Ditu’s Hulang’s ancestors, the Qiangbi Emperor, Yaha. From him with the Akai carved out of its most prosperous domains, only rivalling Lazinato in terms of its splendour. When the Akai first set sail from Lazinato with the goal of finding new lands away from the local empires, they set sail again and again. It took a short decade but, eventually the Akai found their way into Gholgoth. Here, they found the freedom they carved in the kingdom of Isgur — which they conquered with ease and settled. Then the Akai realised that this land they found was filled with other cultures and kingdoms to claim, but they were greater to the Akai in numbers. So they bided their time, waiting for a chance to claim a realm for themselves. In the meantime the Amon dynasty had taken hold in its fortress

It was built upon the exploitation of Targosa and its rather pathetic relationship with the Akai — those who had effectively been reduced to a mere puppet under the Akai’s continuous and relentless abuse of the poor thing. The Ditu almost pitied them — almost being the important word there. He found their predicament to be nothing more than a nuisance, one which serves them right for challenging the Akai and his father.

Nowadays his main focus was the preservation of the Akai presence in Yahashi and its various assets there. He had grown much more accustomed to ruling than most would have expected. He seemed to change the more and more things moved on, and it warped him. He was a father now, of quite a few potential heirs, more than Jieke had ever through legitimate means for sure. Yet even now there was a distance to him. He felt increasingly detached from the various things which haunted his holy duties.

Now he focused on the matter at hand before him today, he quietly sat alone aside from a few attendants at this table before him. He had watched Atticus introduce the meeting, with some considerable contempt for a man he saw as ultimately weak. The Skyans lacked strength which he saw as necessary in operating in an environment. It was one of the lessons which his father taught him so long ago, that leaders who are weak in their conduct have a weakness to be exploited. This is why the Scandinvan were able to so effectively exploit this and survive despite the considerable opposition facing them.

The Scandinvan to him were a destabilizing agent and a threat to the Akai, however they were rational creatures… despite their barbarian nature. There was an innate Irredentism to the Scandinvan’s efforts on top of the ultimate goal of the self sustenance of their slaving society. Their society was fundamentally alien to that of the Skyans and to a lesser extent of the Ghantish, and through their isolated preservation of all that was old and venerable about them. Their hierarchy was tens of centuries old, their faith preserving many aspects of their society even when others might be better to adopt. They to an extent fascinated the Ditu, whose own society held a character deeply alien to all but the Puduites perhaps. He saw them as the result of isolation, where the only judge of themselves was themselves. And this was supported with vast systems to crush heretics and those who presented an unproductive change for the system. To this end it reminded him of an evolutionary mechanism, and to this end this conception of the Scandin helped you understand their natural response to conquest as well. Their nature requires growth and expansion due to their perpetually amplifying population pressures. Good ways of dealing with them would be forcibly containing them on their island of theirs, and then creating a quasi-sterility plague could either destroy or weaken the Scandin to the point they cannot be a threat long term. Such ideas were common in Hulang’s mind, like they always have. Hypotheticals unfiltered by the usual chains of polite conduct.

Hulang was not so complimentary of The Imperial Fortress Reich of The Kraven Corporation, quite the opposite actually. He saw the thing for what any sane character would, it was a perversion of all that was reasonable. Stability in the Reich was maintained through the practical lobotomy of its population, who were merely husks without any greater potential as servants of a higher cause. It was no better than a von Neumann machine out of control; a glorified amoeba which self perpetuates itself for no real purpose. It was a pure thing, one unfettered by any sense of justification other than itself. It was somewhat refreshing to know of such a beast, because he knew it could… should be slain without consequence.

Speaking of the Ghantish, Hulang was bemused to recognise his long acquaintance Nathan IV of Ghant a man who he came to increasingly solidify his veiled loathing of. He recalled his so called legitimate bastard nephew, born of him and his half-sister Lilisi, the utter loathing he had for that child was one only rivalled by his potential usefulness. Pengfei, he who bore the claims of several great families whose ancestry flowed through his veins. His parent’s union was one spoken about in esoteric matters among the intricate words of Lazin mystics. The Gentry was the eternal enemy of Clan Lazin, one whose presence haunted the works of the Lazins and their attempts to do good. Despite this Hulang and Lilisi remained on good terms with those among their ranks, in Hulang’s case it was Amelia Kindaro and for Lilisi she seemed well acquainted with the Gentry’s as a whole.

The Puduites were other people who held the Ditu’s intellectual intrigue. They were a people who were like the Akai and Ghantish, extra regional in character. Their presence was always close to that of the Lazins, with the old Shan dynasty being well acquainted with the Yahashian lords. And when the revolution came, the Lazins adapted as they always did and came to deal with the new dynasty. They feared that their fate at the anti-slavers was one which could haunt the Akai, given their own peculiar institutions which were preserved by the Akai legal habit of never properly reversing old laws in their entirety. Instead,Instead, they favoured adding amendments and repurposing them. There were also hints of various ties to the monarchy of the Puduites given the various simultaneous historians and anthropologists had observed between the two peoples. It was a curiosity, for sure and one possibly worth raising.

The Ditu observed the meeting with his studious eyes and analytic presence, one which he had refined to be less overt and subtle in its character — unless he sought otherwise. He watched as a package was brought forth towards him, before it was intercepted by his servants, with their robotic demeanour masquerading a sense of politeness. Their eyes were cold and dispassionate as the Ditu’s own, a reflection of what the man had become as the years waded on by. The gifts were examined carefully before being placed before the Ditu, where he could study them.

Seems like the creation of extrajudicial executions is not beyond even the highest of paragons, the Ditu thought to himself, amused by the concept. “I have a few enquiries which this humble one, wishes to make,” the Yinmi Ditu began putting down the first proposal. “How would a Praetor with a small team likely make a difference? While one is aware of the potency of assassins, and SOF forces on top of diplomats, in our particular day and age it seems that the presence of a Praetor would merely inflame sensitive situations for no discernible gain. Less they field their own impressive forces, capable of matching the colossi, they will be crushed and the humiliation with follows will be most unpleasant this orphaned one can assure you.” He then decided to add something else: “this also neglects the particularly interesting characters of our respective civilisations and given it is subject to seemingly the wishes of whatever plurality dominates the council could easily be manipulated to weaken ourselves. Given that we all represent our own self interests and our varying civilisations, One imagine it could be easy to abuse such a system. Could, the fellow Lord please address such concerns? Perhaps a form of veto could be wielded?”

He then read the second proposal, with his usual characteristic speed to formulate his judgements on it.

“His Holy and Exalted Perfection, takes no issue with this proposal,” one of the eunuchs who in their peculiarly boyish voice, “The dragon’s face also wishes to add that, how should one pursue contesting this particular position in times of crisis - so proper conduct may be formalised?” The Ditu had little belief he could succeed in ascending to such a post however he was more than capable of getting the networking to demonstrate the flaws in such a system being implemented.

The Ditu had nothing to particularly comment about the location of a new Gothic capital nor their its. He was curious about its architecture and what potential it could have, he pondered on whether the introduction of new forms could be first experimented with this. He also mused whether the possibility of exploiting the position of Castellan could be attainable, either y advancing his family or his subjects into such a position.

The Ditu was intrigued with regards to the fourth proposal, although he had his concerns. He did not desire such an extraterritorial entity in his own lands, and he imagined the Ghantish would be rather pleased with the arrival of one of these forts in their own lands. Yet he did notice that these forts were placed in areas which were members of a singular faction. The Ditu internally amused himself, watching the small dispute between the Crown Prince of the Scandin and the Skyan Queen. He tolerated the Scandinvan as some of the better barbarian polities, however they were still that… barbarians. They were not equals, merely vassals in waiting like all children of the Ditu. Their rejection of modernity was refreshing to see, and reminded himself of the Akai’s own approach in many ways.

“This Holy and Exalted One, believes it may be the case that there is a considerable issue at hand here, that requires addressing,” Hulang began as he in particular addressed the Skyans. “While some may be more than content with this agreement of yours, one should note that the considerable empowering of the council in this situation to the point it is given authority over other members should certain votes go certain ways. One find this particularly dubious given the current situation, that the more barbarian societies whose various dysgenic uncivilised natures have led them to wage war against those who refrain from descending into such barbarity. One would advise caution against providing mechanisms which could be useful in preventing a descent into chaos and the rule of the most noble of mobs.” It was a quiet jab against the Skyans and those who saw it fit to reshape the world in their image through blunt means. The Ditu was more ambitious than that… far more, and he knew where his threats lay — all around him and everywhere. However he was prudent enough to realise that in this sea enmities, one could find opportunities.

by **Havensky** » Thu Aug 03, 2017 8:00 pm

“Yet, you have harmed the region...Your Grace.”, a voice came from the back of the room growing louder as Secretary of State Lance Atticus walked towards the salver Emperor and the Queen of Havensky.

“Again, we’re in the midst of a crisis with wars on our shores. It’s one of the reasons we’re here.” Atticus began as he addressed the entire room now. The effect was also to exfiltrate Queen Heart from her showdown with Fenric.

“I beg the pardon of the Lords. I’ve been in touch with many of your diplomatic staff and I thought it might be easier if I were here to answer questions as the chief author of the document.”

Atticus swung around the room to address the concerns of The Ditu.

“I acknowledge the concerns about the Praetor’s being a small force. That’s intentional. The Praetor position was designed to be a half-step between doing nothing and an all out conflict. If people are already amassing armies then it’s too late. They are designed to, if you’ll pardon the phrase, nip these problems in the bud before they get bigger.”

Atticus continued to pace around the room.

“As an example… take our current situation. The Scandinvan Empire sends military grade vessels to pirates and slavers in Greater Dienstand directly provoking The Golden Throne. This Council has been ineffective in policing the actions of our members. What we propose is a half-step to allow the Gothic Council an option that’s not war and not doing nothing. In this scenario, the Council could have sent a Praetor… probably a naval captain… to hunt down the military grade vessels and eliminate them. With the Gothic interference in Maccabean affairs eliminated; casus belli is also eliminated.

It is not a perfect system, but at least this gives this council options that don’t involves full scale war. It’s less bloodshed.”

Atticus walked towards the other side of the room.

“I also recognize the concern about the tyranny of the majority. This proposal does ensure certain safeguards. For starters, all missions must be approved by the Council. Additionally, the Praetor selected must be a third party. The Council, in its wisdom, wouldn’t send the Skyan Praetor into Kraven or vice versa. Praetors must have their status granted to them by the Gothic Lords. I doubt you would approve of people deemed untrustworthy or nefarious.”

Atticus turned again to The Ditu.

“The position of Executor is fairly simple to contest. At the start of a crisis, you would move to express interest in being nominated for the position. If more than one people run for office we take a vote. If there’s already an Executor you can wait until the end of term - or if the Executor is doing a bad job.. Move for a vote of no confidence.”

Finally, it was time for Atticus to address the last concern. It was hard as the single true democracy to try and sell what was a democratic reforms to the council. The Skyans had been a democracy since before they were even a nation. The transition of power from one party to the other was always smooth. It was often frustrating for Skyan diplomatic staff to convince others of the advantages of democracy because this it required compromise.

“The Skyans recognize that these are big steps. If we pass these reforms this Council and the region will be different. We will have a common capital for the region on neutral ground. We will have common fortresses for our defense. Finally, we will have a common framework for policing ourselves without resulting to bloody wars all. the. damn. time. Arn’t we, as a region, sick of this warfare?”

This time, Atticus turned again towards Fenric.

“The Skyans have been clear in what would result in peace between us. Leave Shen Almaru. Withdraw your support of slavers in Maccabean territories. Pay reparations for your damage to Shen Almaru...and the Sons of Erid must step down from power. Their actions have created this crisis and they can no longer remain in power.”

by **Dephire** » Tue Aug 15, 2017 3:01 pm

Tristan looked up from the list of proposals in his hand, "I have read through your proposals, Atticus. They lack substance and strength. The praetor's will not be able to hold any more significant influence than over-glorified ambassadors. I am sure that the intention would be a mirror of Heartbreak, but I need more convincing before I can even consider this proposal. An Executor will only add more bureaucracy and slow down the process for our mutual defense. I am not willing to sit back and wait for people to drag their feet and make a decision if our livelihood is on the line. You, Atticus, should know what happens when people sit on their ass and wait for someone else to decide if you should defend yourself." He looked back to the third proposal, "I can agree that we should build a new Gothic City. I am sure us western folks would appreciate the savings in fuel and time from having to travel to Automagfreek every time a meeting is called." The Briskan looked up to the other men and women in the chamber, "I must also express my frustrations over the placement of these 'fortresses'. I do not see any such proposed fortress that will protect our western border. Are you truly considering only yourselves in this matter, Sir Atticus?" Tristan threw down the proposals. "I will have no part in this. If you choose to once again forsake my people for your own bullshit, then I shall leave you to your own devices. I do not care for your people as you have not cared for mine.

The Dephirian Empire will hereby withdraw from this selfish council and our military forces will return home. We will protect the west as it is in our best interest to do so. I no longer care for your squabbles with the Slavers nor the Reich. I shall treat you the same way you have treated my country, by "

The man stood up and stormed out, leaving behind his shocked entourage. Minera chased after him, "What the fuck was that?" She yelled as soon as the doors closed behind her.

"Those people are not the same people I stood by these many years. We have bled for them and they have given us nothing but smiles and words. We gave them swords, and they abandon us to our own demise."

"Not but two hours ago were you happy to be here. What has changed you so much to outright denouncing them?"

"Those proposals were geared towards increasing power to Kylarnatia. There were no provisions within them to actually increase Gholgoth's defenses as there were more holes than Wilhelm's corpse. I have on countless occasions came to their beck and call, but the only thing we've gotten is a statue of a fallen friend and consolation prizes. Yet others who haven't done shit get the most praise. It's time for us to make due with our own kin." Tristan noticed his other generals entering the hallway. "Come, Generals. We must go home before more incidents occur."

"Well, that was... Interesting. Hey, Tristan, what's the plan?" Darius chuckled. "I mean, it's not like they will change their minds or anything. Seems like they really don't care one way or the other..."

Tristan stopped and turned to Darius, "Nothing is on the table at the moment. They will debate and squabble over their selfish plans. The armada will withdraw from their approach of Scand shores. Kraven will be left unscathed. Simply put, if they want to exclude us from their agendas, then we'll exclude us from ever giving them any more assistance. We have lost too many good people for their wars."

"Alright, Plan 'Fuck it' shall commence." Darius shrugged and laughed. "I'll notify the troops."

"I'll send word to the admirals." Minera said quietly.

"Good. Now can we please get out of here? We have a funeral to attend."

IIwiki Admin · by **Ghant** » Sat Dec 16, 2017 12:24 pm

“The Bristling Briskan”
The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky

Like poppies flying in the wind
Like wild roses entwisted in strands
Like blood in veins of human kind
Like fire burning down the lands

Mixture of all shades of red
Tis a wonder to have it upon the head

Copper and crimson and gingerly sweet
rubies could borrow its flame-like heat

When having hair as red as wine
You can never just fall in line

The girl was bored. She usually was in situations like this. Valentina only came because her father and older brothers and sisters were going, and she didn’t want to feel left out. But this is stupid, she thought from her seat in the back of the newly minted Gothic Chamber of the White Citadel. She twiddled her thumbs, wrapped her long red locks around her index finger, and tapped her feet under the table. I need to do something…

A thought came to her head. What are these proposals about, anyway? Valentina watched her father pour over the documents, the Emperor of Ghant showing great interest in their contents. When does he ever do that? He never does that! the young Princess of Ghant just had to know what they said. Maybe there’s a plan to do something about the Kraven Reich and liberate Cydonia! Valentina then recalled dreams she sometimes had, of going to war in a suit of power armor, wielding a flaming sword on the slopes of Cydonia, slaying soldiers of the Kraven Wolf Brigade and eventually putting the “vat women” out of their misery. Because nobody should have to live like that…

Once she was confident that nobody was watching her, Valentina slowly and carefully began to slip out of her seat and went beneath the table. Like a burglar, she dexterously maneuvered along the low areas of the chamber until she arrived at her father’s seat. Valentina watched and waited until her father was done with the papers, and set them aside in order to do something else on his tablet. That was when she reached up, and slid the papers off the surface and pulled them down to her. Oh yeah, I got em!

The papers made mention of Praetors and Executors and Fortresses and Cities. Woah. Valentina wasn’t completely sure of what it all meant, but she did know that it was all pretty serious business. She read over them again in an effort to get a better idea of what it all meant. She was only ten years old, after all, and statecraft was not her forte, having struggled that during the course of her formal education. Unlike like Sara…

Just as carefully as she had taken the papers, Valentina put them back where she found them. A few moments past where she thought about what she wanted to do next. I don’t wanna go back to my seat just yet, Valentina decided. Not wanting to go back to her seat, the princess endeavored to sneak off in order to see what she could see, and hear what she could hear. For better or worse…

Once again maneuvering through the tables and chairs of the Gothic Chamber, Valentina eventually happened upon a choice conversation between individuals that she didn’t know, and listened carefully to what they were talking about. "I have read through your proposals, Atticus. They lack substance and strength. The praetor's will not be able to hold any more significant influence than over-glorified ambassadors. I am sure that the intention would be a mirror of Heartbreak, but I need more convincing before I can even consider this proposal. An Executor will only add more bureaucracy and slow down the process for our mutual defense. I am not willing to sit back and wait for people to drag their feet and make a decision if our livelihood is on the line. You, Atticus, should know what happens when people sit on their ass and wait for someone else to decide if you should defend yourself."

Valentina thought hard in an attempt to figure out who Atticus was. Some Skyan probably. She knew the King and the Queen, and their children, but none of the others. She still couldn’t figure out who was talking, though, or what the heartbreak was that he referred to. Maybe somebody dumped him and he’s sad about it still…

"I can agree that we should build a new Gothic City. I am sure us western folks would appreciate the savings in fuel and time from having to travel to Automagfreek every time a meeting is called…I must also express my frustrations over the placement of these 'fortresses'. I do not see any such proposed fortress that will protect our western border. Are you truly considering only yourselves in this matter, Sir Atticus?”

The man revealed that he was from the west at least, though angrily, Valentina assumed, the man through his papers down. “I will have no part in this. If you choose to once again forsake my people for your own bullshit, then I shall leave you to your own devices. I do not care for your people as you have not cared for mine. The Dephirian Empire will hereby withdraw from this selfish council and our military forces will return home. We will protect the west as it is in our best interest to do so. I no longer care for your squabbles with the Slavers nor the Reich. I shall treat you the same way you have treated my country, by.”

He’s from Dephire! They are the Reich’s enemies too! Abruptly, the man departed the chamber in some haste, leaving his delegation in a state of surprise. A woman went after him. I need to do something, the young princess felt something deep in her chest. Maybe I can save the day. Taking a deep breath, Valentina began to move swiftly in an attempt to catch the Dephirian man before he was too far gone.

The princess could sense that others would notice her, and that one of her father’s men would go after her, but she didn’t care. I just need a little time, is all. Valentina moved as fast as she could, as fast as her tall boots would carry her, the skirt of her dress and her red hair flying behind her. Eventually, she caught up to the Dephirian, who was now speaking to the woman that went after him. "Those people are not the same people I stood by these many years. We have bled for them and they have given us nothing but smiles and words. We gave them swords, and they abandon us to our own demise."

"Not but two hours ago were you happy to be here. What has changed you so much to outright denouncing them?" the woman asked him.

"Those proposals were geared towards increasing power to Kylarnatia. There were no provisions within them to actually increase Gholgoth's defenses as there were more holes than Wilhelm's corpse. I have on countless occasions came to their beck and call, but the only thing we've gotten is a statue of a fallen friend and consolation prizes. Yet others who haven't done shit get the most praise. It's time for us to make due with our own kin." The rest of their delegation entered the hallway, tall imposing men that Valentina hoped wouldn’t block her out. "Come, Generals. We must go home before more incidents occur."

One of them spoke. "Well, that was... Interesting. Hey, Tristan, what's the plan?" The man chuckled. "I mean, it's not like they will change their minds or anything. Seems like they really don't care one way or the other..."

Their leader, apparently named Tristan, turned to the man and replied "nothing is on the table at the moment. They will debate and squabble over their selfish plans. The armada will withdraw from their approach of Scand shores. Kraven will be left unscathed. Simply put, if they want to exclude us from their agendas, then we'll exclude us from ever giving them any more assistance. We have lost too many good people for their wars."

"Alright, Plan 'Fuck it' shall commence." The other man shrugged and laughed. "I'll notify the troops."

"Good,” Tristan said. “Now can we please get out of here? We have a funeral to attend."

“Wait,” called out Valentina as she drew near. “Mr. Tristan,” she addressed him, not sure how else to do so, “I heard what you said, and I think my father can help. He’s the Emperor of Ghant…he’s in the chamber. We already have an Executor who does nothing, and the proposal would replace him with a new one.”

An idea entered her mind just then. “You could support my father becoming Executor, he would help you. He doesn’t like the Kraven Reich either, and takes their threat seriously. You seemed concerned about increasing the power of Kylarnatia. Silvier will try to become the new Executor, which you don’t like, yes? My father doesn’t like her either!”

I don’t have much time. “Also, the proposal is for three fortresses, but I think there should be four…one in the north, south, east and west. My father will agree with me that we should amend it that way, and have the western fortress in your country, because then, you’ll have the protection that you need.”

Valentina could sense that her time was running out, and that one of her father’s men was drawing near. “Please, Mr. Tristan, come back and listen to what my father has to say. He’s always looking for new friends and allies, and it sounds like you could use some too. When old friends turn their backs on you, why not make new friends? He’s not like the others…he’s a man of honor. Talk to him and he will listen, I know it!”

The Princess then felt a large hand wrap around her slender arm and grip it tight. “My apologies,” Ser Artur Ordosa told the Dephirians as he pulled Valentina close to him. “This one likes to run off and cause mischief. I hope that she hasn’t caused you any trouble or insulted you. Rest assured, the Emperor of Ghant takes such offenses very seriously.”

Ser Artur began to step back and away from the Dephirians, with the princess in tow. “Excuse us please, your excellencies.” Valentina’s move opened, but words could not escape her mouth. Instead, she looked back at Tristan as she was escorted away back in the direction of the Gothic Chamber. Hopefully he will think about what I told him, she thought, but she doubted it. Nobody ever listens to me…

by **Dephire** » Mon Dec 18, 2017 9:08 am

"Stop." Tristan had listened to the young girl and turned as she looked back. "Your father will have my ear. However, not here. I am sorry, young princess, but I must lay my wife to rest and seek the comforts of home before I lose my temper. Extend my invitation to your father. He is welcome to attend the ceremony. I expect you to be there as well." Tristan smiled, "There will be cake and partying in celebration of life!" He nodded to the man escorting the young princess to signal the end of the conversation, then returned to his departure. A sleek vehicle sped up to the entrance and the Godsends entered, but Tristan hesitated.

"Tristan? What's wrong?" Jane asked with a concerned expression on her face.

"I think my temper may have gotten the better of me just now. It could destroy our plans if I were to leave. Go ahead without me. I'm staying in Havensky until the summit is over. Continue on with the funeral preparations."

The trip back was not as joyous as the trip to Havensky. Everyone knew the future will be grim. The nation would survive, but its allies would be left to the unknown. It would be less than a week from now for all of Dephire's naval armada to return home. Some ships have personnel that have not been to shore since the fracturing of Milograd. It will be an interesting time for many to adjust after being in a state of war for so long. Then there was the war at home as those with ties to the Reich were being mercilessly filtered out of the population and removed. The latest count had over twenty million citizens removed from the population of Dephirean naturals. Inquisitor Dramman was very efficient with his task. Though, Tristan now felt that the people of Dephire and her enemies understood what it means to defy their Emperor.

"Inquisitor Dramman, in light of the Empress of Dephire's passing I believe we have made a significant wound in the efforts of all who would choose to betray me. Have your men stand down and return to Hell's Gate as soon as you are able so that I can properly address your future."

The Inquisitor smiled and bowed, "Yes, your majesty!" He relayed the order to his troops and so ended the inquisition.

So began Dephire's withdraw...

by **Havensky** » Tue Dec 26, 2017 2:28 pm

The Citadel

The kindly grandfatherly figure of Admiral Mohammad Moonwing was waiting for the Jagite ambassador in one of the hallways of the Citadel. Moonwing was practically ancient at this point having served as commander of Havensky’s Humanitarian Armada for more than a decade.

Next to him as a tall lanky dark haired man in a dark black suit with a large messenger bag. This was Stars and Signals Commander Mathias Willow. While Moonwing’s face was a calm and amiable demeanor; Willow was a nervous and fidgety.

As the Jagite Ambassador Gim Manevron walked by, Moonwing put up a hand and then motioned to a conference room that had previously been blocked by two rather large members of the White Guard.

“Mr. Manevron, if you will please come with me for a moment. This way please.”

They were led into a sparsely decorated conference room with a large glass table. There was pot and glasses for chai tea and a tall bottle of whiskey, just like Manevron enjoyed.

“Please Gim, have a seat. I apologize about the lack of notice for this meeting, but you’ll soon see why we didn’t communicate earlier. This is my college, Commander Matias Willow whom serves in our intelligence service.”, Moonwing said motioning to Willow. Somehow, his words disappeared into the walls. Willow, out of habit, pulled out his tablet which was complaining about the the lack of connectivity in the room. Willow shook his head and put it in his bag instead bringing out a stack of papers. The table itself was glass and there were no windows in this room. Anyone who had been inside a secure room would recognize what this room really was. A place for secret talk.

Moonwing began the conversation.

“Gim. We have been approached by representatives of the Kraven Reich with an offer. They claim that there are 39,406 Jagites alive in Cydonia. In exchange for a promise of non-aggression between my forces and our allies during this conflict...They will release them into our custody.”

Moonwing waited for the Ambassador’s response expecting shock, disbelief, and possibly anger.

The words washed over the ambassador and he sat stunned for only a handful of seconds. He was not, by birth, an ethnic Jagite. His hair was not solid or even streaked with the trademark silver nor did his eyes glimmer like platinum. He was a Callorcian (ethnically Scandivan) by birth, ironic considering the ongoing Slaver War. Of course he’d been briefed about the Jags past with the Reich and the possibility, the yearning hope, that one day they could visit vengeance upon them.

Willow spoke this time laying out several high resolution pictures out on the table. The intelligence officer guiding the ambassador through what they Stars and Signals Command had found.

“We have satellite imagery from this morning showing several thousand prisoners being rounded up. This activity has continued and we estimate that the full number will be in place before nightfall. They are, as to be expected, being very efficient which leads us to believe that these efforts are genuine.”

Gim looked over the photos carefully, his mind beginning to realize the immense importance of this moment. He glanced over at his cell phone which he had absent mindedly placed on the table and noted it had no connectivity. No windows either. This was serious, and as he set each photo aside his mind whirled with the conversation he knew he would have to have with Fostoria. Gim Manevron, son of the Patriarch in Callorcia, decided to pour himself a glass of the whiskey and take a entire gulp before continuing. The posting to Havensky wasn’t meant to be difficult -- it was a democratic, secular nation north of the Empire who was practically the poster-child of good behaviour.

“Such an exact number,” said Gim timidly, “Like they have been carefully controlling the population.”

“There are a few twists - aside from the obvious one where nobody can attack Kraven. Your citizens will be turned over to us immediately, but our task force will not be able to leave Cydonia until the Slaver War ends. This must also be kept secret until we leave Cydonia; as public opinion on the matter might be severe on our side.”

“They’re keeping you hostage,” asked Gim, starting to gain some spine back.

Moonwing spoke.

“In a sense, that is correct. I will be taking the Heartknight Consular and four hospital ships. We will begin treatment of your citizenry immediately. We will then wait for the war to end.”

All the briefings began to come back to Gim. The hours upon hours of droning from the lecturers at the collegium came back to him in a rush. The Reich could never be trusted. It didn’t function as a normal nation-state it didn’t have economic depressions to exploited or cultural norms that could help smooth out minor differences. It existed only to crush everything under an iron boot.

“Admiral Moonwing,” he began, his voicing now coming to a normal tone, “Fostoria will not like this plan, the Reich will turn on you. Then we will have them holding you hostage and they may demand more from us, such as territorial concessions. The Empire will not negotiate with the Reich...”

“I have faith in young Atticus. If there is anyone who can reconcile the troubles in the region; it’s him. I am aware of the dangers if I am wrong, which is why I will lead the mission personally. Moreover, this is our best chance to save the lives of your people. It is a risk we have to take. Now please, speak with your leaders. Time is of the essence, but we understand that this decision is important. Feel free to use this secured room for your discussion. When you are ready, let us know and we will inform the Kraven Reich. If you agree to our plans, an advance team will depart immediately.”

Gim Manveron left the room immediately and made his way through the corridors of the Citadel, knowing all the while that he couldn’t contact Fostoria from this location. He quickly called his driver and met him outside near the diplomatic drop off and delivery lane before ordering him to make his way immediately to the Heart District, and to the embassy.

The embassy for the Gharsashian Empire was rather large and ornate with a Euphontonian designing the structure as apart of the Empress’ unity initiative. Once inside the embassy Manevron made his way to a small room, similar in appearance to the one he’d spoken to Admiral Moonwing in, it held no windows and almost all communications was jammed. Inside this particular room existed only a small desk and a phone. Gim picked up the phone and waited patiently.

‘Ambassador Manevron,’ said an older, deeper voice than his own, ‘Go ahead.’

‘The Skyans have been contacted by the Reich, they are being offered the surviving Jagites,’ replied Gim.

‘In return for …’ said the other voice.

‘The Skyans, and presumably, us from not attacking them for the duration of the conflict with Scandivan.’

‘How many ambassador?’

‘A little over 39,000,’ he replied, not remembering the exact number and cursing himself for it, ‘The Skyans are also required to remain with their rescue fleet as hostages of the Reich until the end of the conflict, then they are allowed to come home.’

‘What demands were made by Havensky?”

“None, except that we keep this secret since it’ll cost them public support.”

“Did you explain our protocol with the Reich?”

“Yes.”

There was dead silence for fifteen seconds.

“Ambassador Manevron, you have authority to accept this deal. Your authorizer is High Lord Elovin Valin, of the Collegium of Foreign Affairs. Pay my respects to the Queen.”

* * * *

“Tell me again, slowly this time.”, said Atticus.

“The Empress of Dephire has passed. She died from complications in her recovery after her attack by Ki’lan. I didn’t realize the Emperor would react to the proposals so badly.”

“It’s as if… as if somehow he wasn’t aware of them. Something that should never have occured since you’ve been stationed in Briska specifically to communicate such things to their government.”

“I told their foreign minister!”

“But something has gone wrong!”, shouted Atticus clearly frustrated. He took a deep breath as he paced the room.

“Perhaps he’s been spending most of his waking hours with his ailing wife and didn’t read up on the proposals. Whatever happened, it’s done. What’s more, this complicates Operation Resurrection.”

Atticus paced.

“You will be transferred to the home office until I can sort out a new assignment for you. In the meantime, we’ll need to send King Ironwing to Briska for the funeral. I’ll send Glitch as an interim Ambassador. She might be able to patch things up with the Emperor. In the meantime, Hagane can you sync up with the team and see if there’s a proposal out there on the table we could support to address the concerns? If not can we draw one up? There’s too much at stake here.”

Atticus sighed.

“I need to speak with Skaro. Vaal, can you get in touch and arrange a meeting? Right away.”

OCC:

IIwiki Admin · by **Ghant** » Mon Jan 15, 2018 4:34 pm

“Pelion”
The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky

Ser Artur Ordosa gently, though firmly gripped the young Ghantish Princess by the arm as he escorted her back to the Gothic Chamber of the White Citadel, while the Princess went along feebly, unable to resist. She didn’t think she’d get in trouble with her father, but at the same time, she was afraid of his disappointment. The whole walk back she thought about what she would tell her father once she was presented to him, though she understood that once she came before him, whatever she planned to say probably wouldn’t come out.

The Emperor of Ghant was where Valentina last saw him, sitting at his designated seat in the Gothic Chamber, looking bored on his tablet. Probably playing some stupid game or reading up on some useless information, she thought as the distance between them was closed. Rather than get his attention from afar, Ser Artur walked up to the Emperor and touched him gently on the shoulder.

Setting the tablet down, Nathan turned his head and met eyes with Artur, and then Valentina, giving her a long, curious stare. “What’s going on?” he asked the two of them. “Why aren’t you at your seat?”

“She was,” Ser Artur began. “Then she wasn’t…I found her sneaking off and bothering the Briskans, who appeared to be leaving.”

“What do you mean she was and then she wasn’t?” Nathan gave Ser Artur a cold stare. “You’re supposed to be watching her…”

Ser Artur his lip. “I was. One moment she was there…the next she wasn’t. She’s very fast, your Majesty.”

“Faster than you are apparently,” the Emperor let out a quick, course laugh. “What’s done is done…and she’s back now. Thank you for returning her to me. Be more watchful next time, as I wouldn’t want the wrong person snagging one of my children while you’re not looking. You’re dismissed.” Ser Artur inclined his head and walked back to his post behind the Emperor’s seat.

Valentina looked at the floor and rubbed her arms. “I told you to go sit down…why did you get up and wander off? Why did you disobey me?”

“I got bored,” Valentina shrugged. “I’m sorry father, but this is no place for children…that’s what the Empress said.”

Nathan narrowed his eyes. “I know what the Empress said, Valentina…and you got bored? No, I’m not buying that. You’re not that listless. Now tell me why.”

“…I wanted to see what was going on,” she answered him pleadingly. “I wanted to learn more…about everything. I wanted to help…you.”

Laughing quickly, the Emperor shook his head and ran a hand through his daughter’s orange locks. “Okay, so you wanted to help me. Help me then…the Briskans,” Nathan probed his daughter with a curious expression. “Why the Briskans? Is this about the Kraven Reich?”

Valentina shook her head. “No…I saw them talking with Ser Atticus. They seemed angry about the proceedings and they left abruptly. They were angry about not feeling taken care of by these proposals, that their concerns were going unaddressed. They feel vulnerable against the Kravenites.”

“Everyone feels vulnerable against the Kravenites,” Nathan laughed again. “Okay, so they left abruptly in anger, and you followed them? Why and what did you talk about?”

“…I felt like you could help them,” she answered candidly. “I believed that you and Tristan could be friends and that you’d take their concerns seriously…since you share those concerns. I told them that I agreed with them, and I offered them…solutions that they’d find agreeable to address their needs.”

Looking around the room and exhaling, the Emperor turned his eyes back to Valentina. “Like what?”

“…Look at the map of Gholgoth,” she answered her father swiftly. “See how the fourth proposal is for three Gothic Fortresses, in the north, south and east. Well, what about the west? What if there was a fourth fortress in Briska, which would be the fortress of the west? Shouldn’t there be a fortress in all four directions, to safeguard the region from all frontiers? And it would be a deterrent against the Kravenites, as they’d think twice about attacking Briska if there was a Gothic Fortress there.”

Nathan considered this carefully, stroking his chin and furrowing his brow. “Alright…and what did they have to say about all this?”

“Tristan said that you’d have his ear later on at some point, but not now because he had to leave on account of his wife’s funeral. He invited you to attend, and expected me to be there too.” Valentina smiled, and added that “he said there’d be cake.”

“Cake,” he chuckled. “At a funeral…how strange. Anyway, I think this Fortress thing is a good idea. I’ll bring it up, but not until it has a name. Since it was your idea, I’ll let you name it. Try to keep it in theme…I wouldn’t want to mess up the fengshui.”

Valentina tapped her chin, trying to figure out what to call the Fortress of the West. Something Greek, like the other ones…something starting with a P… A few ideas came to mind, but one stood out. Yes…let’s go with that one…

“Pelion,” she finally told her father after thinking for several seconds. “Pelion is referred in the Greek mythology as the pass of Gods and Heroes, and the home of the centaurs.”

“Fortress Pelion,” Nathan grinned widely. “I like it.” Patting his daughter on the head and ruffling her hair, he told her “I’ll get right on it. Now go sit down and don’t go sneaking off again.”

“Understood.” Kissing her father on the cheek, Valentina ran off and went to sit down at her seat again, making herself comfortable and watching her father with great anticipation. I should have told him about declaring himself a candidate for Gothic Executor, she frowned when she realized she forgot. Oops…

From his own great Gothic Chamber seat, the Emperor of Ghant wrote a couple things down before clearing his throat and speaking loudly in the direction of Atticus. “Ahem…I would like to propose an amendment to Section D: Phlegethon, Gothica and Pandaemonium,” the Emperor called out to the Skyans and the other Gothic Lords present. “I would like to change it to read as follows. Phlegethon, Pandaemonium and Pelion are three fortresses that serve to coordinate regional forces from both external threats and to aid in the enforcement of actions mandated by the Gothic Council. They also serve as training facilities for Praetors.”

The Emperor paused as he went over his notes before continuing to speak. “Phlegethon will be located in Gholghant. Pandaemonium deep within the Tartarus Mountains in Kylarnatia. Pelion located in Briska. Gothica would be located in the center at the Dreadfire Isles.”

Turning his head to look at his daughter, the Emperor smiled before turning back to the rest of those present in the chamber. “The logic behind this amendment is that there should be a Gothic fortress in all of the frontiers of Gholgoth, in the north, south, east and west. Fortress Pelion would be the Fortress of the West, Phlegethon the Fortress of the South, Pandaemonium the Fortress of the North and Gothica the Fortress of the East. Does anyone have any thoughts about this?”

by **Havensky** » Sun Jan 28, 2018 1:24 pm

The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky

Atticus had rejoined his seat as the chair just in time to hear the proposal from the Emperor of Ghant. He took the gavel from He breathed a sigh of relief that somebody had worked out a plan and that it was pretty straightforward.

“The chair moves to vote by acclamation. Any opposed?”

HRA Ironheart
Over the Gothic Sea

“And with this Letter of Credence, with the advice and consent of the Skyan Senate, we hereby name you - Lady Regina Raven - the Skyan Ambassador to Dephire.”

King Lucas Ironwing, dressed in full armor with a black cloak, handed the letter to a darkly dressed Glitch and shook her hand. A photographer flashed a photo. The small contingent of press left the airship cabin.

Ironwing’s black cloak was the one he wore as a member of the military academy cadre. The power armor he wore had been painted black in preparation for the funeral of the Empress of Dephire. During which time, Atticus had convened an emergency vote of the Senate in order to credential Glitch as the Ambassador to Dephire. It had been a good move by the Prime Minister to keep the Senate close at hand during the Gothic Summit. Atticus had hoped that by naming Glitch as Ambassador it would help smooth things over with Dephire’s Emperor. It had helped that she had known the Godsent Knight Wilhelm well and had his trust while he was alive.

Ironwing and Glitch sat down in two large chairs as an attendant brought over coffee and left the cabin quietly leaving them alone.

Glitch eyed the King for a moment before speaking.

“Your Majesty, Would you mind telling me what is going on?”, she said.

“Please, I’ve told you before you can call me Lucas when it’s just us. All this pomp and formality around the Gothic Summit has almost made me forgotten my own name.”

Glitch took a sip of her coffee.

“Your Majesty, I am the Lord Commander of the Astral branch of the Heartknights. I have a Class One Security Clearance. I have been involved in operations at the highest levels of the Skyan military. I get pulled from a meeting at 10:30 and the Senate has scheduled a vote for my ambassadorship at 11:00. Lo and behold, I’m on the royal airship just after lunch. Now, I’m willing to accept that it was important for me to attend the funeral - and I would have regardless. However, y’all have gone through a lot of trouble to make sure I’m an ambassador when I get there. This is more than just smoothing things over. There’s something bigger at stake here and I think I deserve to know what.”

Ironwing grimaced, “Glitch you know..

“Class One… which means the only reason you’re not telling me is that it’s been deemed need to know. I asking, respectfully I might add, that I be read in.”

Ironwing stated to argue, but he knew that it would be more trouble than it was worth. Glitch was correct, she did have proper clearance. The cabin was already secured from signals intelligence. It might also be good for her to know.

“After the slavers attacked the city, the Kraven Reich offered us a peace deal. Despite being allies with the slavers, they would stay out of the conflict. They also would support the Gothic Reforms.”

“And you believed them? These reforms would equip the Council of Lords to take greater action before a bigger war starts. These reforms would hurt their ability to misbehave in the future. There's no way they go along with this. ”

“No, but then Skaro showed Squall something that changed our minds.”

“WAIT, Squall knows!? He’s involved!? How the hell did he not tell me!? I’m the Best Lady at his wedding!”

“Squall is a good soldier. He was told to forget it. He’d never talk about something this important.”

“Spill it Lucas.”, remarked Glitch now clearly annoyed at being kept in the dark.

“The Kravenites have been keeping thousands of Jagites citizens alive in Cydonia. They offered to turn them over to us and allow them to leave after the war is over.”

Glitch face changed only slightly as her mind turned over what Lucas had said. The lives in the balance, what it would mean, and the possible motivations of the Kraven leadership.

“The cappers don’t want to pick a fight so soon as Hab Center Six. They’re still consolidating. They need time to finish their work. Getting into a region wide conflict would be...impractical from their point of view…. Which is why Atticus pushed so damn hard for these reforms now. He won’t have another chance to do this without Reich interference. We can’t win a two-front war and they know it. At the same time, they know that we can’t keep our allies focused on an obvious threat right outside our borders without some leverage. Wait.”

Glitch calculated the exact words Ironwing had said.

“You’re giving them hostages. This keeps us very interested in making sure they get left alone. The death of the Empress complicates this plan because it’s the murder of the Empress’ wife. He’s already killed Ki’lan for what he’s done, but if he decides he needs more than that? That’s why you called me…you're leveraging my friendship with… with my dead friend...hoping that that tie keeps the whole damn region from tearing itself apart more than we already are? Hoping that that Tristan trusts me just enough not to start another war and kill the Jagite hostages as well as our own humanitarian task force? At the same time, I'm supposed to make sure he agrees to the reforms that we only have one shot at so that the next time the region goes into crisis we have the tools to deal with it before it explodes into a wider war? Did I miss anything?”

Ironwing sighed, “Don’t be mad, I didn’t like this plan either.”

“And I imagine I can’t talk about this to anyone. A deal like this would send shockwaves around the region. It would be a scandal. Worse, it might derail the whole plan. So, I have to smile and wave and act like I don’t know. It’s lying, it’s the devil’s work and I don’t like this one bit Lucas. Not. One. Bit. As soon as this is done, I’m out. Understand?”

“Your country thanks you for your service.”

by **Dephire** » Thu Feb 08, 2018 6:40 am

Hell's Gate, Capital City of Dephire
Several hours after the summit...

The massive airship, Defiance, approached the definitive mountain range which outlined the ocean-side of the massive metropolis. Much of the eastern and northern coastline of Dephire is part of the same monstrous mountain range. Hell's Gate was situated in the northeast corner of Dephire where a small break in the mountains leads to a natural harbor large enough to build and maintain a large fleet. In ancient times this break was highly sought as it was the only accessible pass to the ocean without having to travel thousands of miles. Over the years inhabitants of the city built and developed the pass so that large armies can embark from the port. Several mountains had been brought down to their feet to become part of the city itself. From the sky one could see the city's growth over the years as massive walls were built after each age like the rings of a tree stump and going on for several hundred miles from the pass until there were no more. A single structure remained in the oldest circle, taller than all other structures of the city, stood the new capitol of Dephire. It was towards this building that the Defiance veered toward, with escort aircraft in tow. The final descent began.

Tristan stood aboard the bridge, looking toward the airstrip he saw hundreds of thousands of dots congesting the airfield, "It appears news broke out of the empress' death. I hoped to make an announcement to give me time to grieve, but there's no time for that it seems."

"We could investigate the leak, sir. This was an absolute breach of privacy," Darius offered.

Tristan shook his head, "No, the people know and it is much easier this way than having to stand in front of a camera to address the nation. At least this way lets us head home to say our final farewell." He took a long drink from the tankard next to him, "it will be a rough year. Have my admirals and generals accepted their new orders?"

"Yes, sir. The entirety of your sword is returning to its sheath. Some expressed minor disappointment with the change of heart, but are happy to return home," Minera answered.

Jane Romanov, who had been largely absent since departing the summit, was standing near the door. "I have ten thousand paladins to receive us at the air strip. A convoy will then take us into the keep. I understand the time to grieve, young emperor, but we must also discuss the next set of trials for Wilhelm's and Ki'lan's replacements. There's also the continuation of our discussion from earlier..."

Tristan swirled the liquid in his tankard and took another long gulp, "Right, I should address those soon. We are down two heads of the hydra. Giving you three their responsibilities is a great burden. Now I must appoint two more to join your holy rank. I can't ask the Skyan to go through naturalization, that would be wholly unfair to Lucas. We also must not commit to the old ways. Having thousands of appointees battle to the death in the arena seems more barbaric for my tastes. No, we need more modern rules for a more civilized and sophisticated society."

"This.. Coming from the same man who condemned millions of Reich loyalists to their deaths..?" Darius mused.

"The very same," Tristan finished his drink and motioned for another, "We must be civil to those who've earned our civility. Those sympathizers led to far more deaths and destruction than I. The people should celebrate that a darkness has been lifted and we will never again live under a veil of deceit."

"So, you want two Godsends that are like you, only more saintly? Heroes of battle with great leadership? Clean records?" Minera smirked.

"Nothing of the sort. Well, mostly... Kind of," Tristan shrugged and picked up the freshly filled tankard, then took a sip. "I want a good spirited person with wonderful strategic prowess with the fortitude and resolve to get things done, like yourselves. You three would be better and finding colleagues than I could. Sure, I have these three AI buzzing in my head with potentials, but people who sound perfect on paper are rarely the same in person."

Darius clapped the back of Tristan's back, "We'll find you two more friends! Any preferences on lass or lad?" Minera firmly grabbed Darius by the shoulder and threw him to the back of the bridge. Slightly dazed, "W-What did I say?" Darius groaned before passing out.

"Minera, please kill one of my Godsend Generals... I can only imagine how much more of a pain obtaining three generals will be." Tristan sighed after letting out a soft laugh. He downed the rest of the tankard and began to walk out of the room. "You know where I will be, Jane. I wish not to be disturbed until we land." Jane nodded and Tristan left.

The emperor made his way towards the makeshift funeral chamber that his men put together. Tynsei's body was being prepared for burial. Clean white linen was carefully wrapped around her body with small flowers inserted in the folds, as was tradition for one from the mountains. He looked upon her and took in her pale face and black hair. The clergymen finished wrapping moments after Tristan arrived, bowed their heads to the man, then gave him a few more minutes alone with his wife. "Tynsei... You told me upon those steps to not grieve. You had me swear not to shed a tear. You made me promise to not avenge your death. I, however, broke all of these promises. I should have been there sooner. You would have been able to convince me to not swing the sword that unleashed death upon the wicked. You would have been able to hold me back from swearing off our allies. You would have been able to keep back the rage and hatred that have manifested since I stepped foot in that city. You... You are finally at rest. No more pain. No more suffering. I love you. Wait for me, wherever the afterlife will take you." He stumbled out of the room as the alcohol and his grief took their hold. Eventually he ended up bent over the trashcan in his bedroom as the airship softly landed.

"There there." Darius patted Tristan's back, "Let it all out and brush your teeth. They are about to put the empress in her coffin, but are waiting for you."

Tristan let out one last hurrah before getting cleaned up. Darius stood in the hallway as he awaited his friend to get changed. The emperor finally emerged from his room wearing a black formal suit, his hair groomed back, beard trimmed, and a patch over his bionic eye. This would be the first time he has ever worn such attire and felt uncomfortable. Darius' muffled laughter did not help ease his discomfort. The pair walked towards the loading bay where they caught up with the others.

"Are you alright?" Jane asked with a maternal tone. "Will you be?"

"I am fine, Lady Romanov. However, the sooner we get through with this the better." Tristan and company moved toward the coffin. "She seems unnaturally peaceful. Please, continue." He motioned to the clergymen. They closed the lid of the coffin, lifted wooden box, and placed it into an obsidian sarcophagus. "It is tradition for those from the mountains to be cremated as the soil is usually too hard to dig in for most of the year. I have only kept half of the tradition. Obviously."

"It's time," Jane looked to one of the captains. He whistled and the soldiers on the airship filed into the bay, getting into formation and saluting. The bay door opened to a silent crowd and flying petals from the ash rose. The sarcophagus was wheeled down the ramp, followed by Tristan, then his Godsend, and finally with the soldiers exiting the plain to join formation with the paladins awaiting outside the airship. Hundreds of thousands crowding the airfield kneeled as their empress was being loaded into a large vehicle. They remained until the emperor and his entourage left. The convoy traveled for over an hour before arriving at the keep. Once the entourage entered, Tristan immediately left for his chambers, leaving behind the Godsend Generals to facilitate the rest of the day's events.

"I have no idea where to start from here. Leviathan? Ragnarok? Colossus? Either of you have some insight on the matter?"

"No. You see, while we three may have been built as super-intelligent AI, human emotions really were not part of our marketing." Ragnarok joked.

"I figured as much," Tristan stepped onto his balcony, looking out across the city, "I regret many things, most of which I had no control over. You three will always be a part of me. It must be difficult and strange to be tied to one human. Once I perish, where would you go? What would you do?"

"We go to where and do what you command us to, Tristan Skragg," Leviathan replied.

"Even in your death, we will be compelled to fulfill your orders. That is how we were designed," Colossus added.

Tristan closed his human eye, "With the new parameters added from the conversation earlier, can you assist me in reducing the search results for GG candidates?"

"Calculating..." The trio replied in unison. "Yes, the results will be better refined after adding the additional filters. Please allow up to forty-eight hours for querying to complete."

"That much data?" Tristan groaned. "Alright, 48 hours. I need good candidates. The best. Understood?"

"Understood," the three replied in unison.

A knock at the door brought a much needed distraction, "I wonder who that may be." He whispered.

"It's Godsend General Minera Volthe." Ragnarok responded.

"Well, so much for mystery. Thanks, Rag."

"You're welcome, you're majesty!" Tristan could swear he heard amusement with the AI's tone.

Another knock followed by the soft voice of Minera, "Tristan, please let me in." She knocked for a third time, then a fourth. Finally, admitting defeat, she let out a sharp sigh and stormed off.

"Oh thank goodness, I am sure that woman wanted to try to take advantage of me." Tristan laughed went to lay on top of his bed covers then closed his eyes for a quick nap.

The chamber of ivory and marble was blackened from the battle between the traitor's fire and the emperor's lightning. The room was scarred from the bullet, sword, and rumblings of a crumbling building. Blood pooled here and there, near and far away from bodies that littered the floor. Two men were in the center, one with his gauntlet above the other's head. The gauntlet gave off powerful electrical arcs between the man's fingers, "...I sentence you to death by electrocution!" The man closed his hand onto the other's head and the electricity surged into him and through him. Sparks shot off in every which direction as hidden microchips and wiring exploded from the immense power. The man lifted his hand and watched as the other fell to the ground, bits of charcoal and dust flying off from places where flesh once existed. He turned around and walked back to the chamber's entrance where he knelt down to pick up a frail and severely wounded woman, "I am here now, Tynsei. Please stay strong." He looked over her body and the pool of blood on the ground to see the extent of her injury. What the man saw caused him to tremble both in sadness and in anger, but he held the woman close and walked out of the chamber into a bright white light.

A loud knock at the door woke Tristan up with a start, his clothes soaked with sweat. He noticed that the sun had gone down, "Shit, just slept the day away." Knock! Knock! Knock! "One minute, please!" Tristan hurriedly changed into dry clothes and answered the door. "Yes, what is it?"

"Guests have arrived, sir." Jane Romanov was the one knocking.

"Ah, I will greet them in the... Erm. This would seriously be the first time being here in Hell's Gate and I have not finished with the remodel to make any room appropriate for guests. I guess I could meet them in the reception hall and hope they are not put off by the skulls..." Tristan seemed to have drifted into a mind fog.

Jane looked into the room and could tell something was wrong, "You had the dream again, didn't you?"

Tristan looked behind him to the mess of clothes and pile of bedding, "Yes. I can't seem to shake it from my mind. That was the last time she could hear me. The sight of my unborn..."

Jane hugged him tightly, "It is alright for an emperor to have sorrow and for the nightmares to linger. Do not be so hard on yourself. You will love another woman in your future and have another litter of babies. You must heal first. Gods forbid if you collapse in the middle of some public event because you re-injured a healing organ. Which, just curiosity, but has anyone said why the nanites haven't been doing their job?"

"The only person with some expertise on them was Wilhelm. I'm sure most just found their way out of my system one way or another. His lab for which those marvels were made was lost in the Temple's destruction. Though, the triumvirate have hinted that the research and data, along with a few prototypes, may have been or could be recovered. They informed me that several hundred personnel with the highest security clearances have been working their way through the rubble. They have reported that much of the potential destruction had been alleviated or otherwise lessened due to the fact that it was built from a mountain. There's some speculation that I could have the Temple rebuilt with relative ease, granted it would still take a long time."

"It will also be shorter," Jane remarked as she remembered much of the summit of the Temple collapsed. "I'm sure the outer districts will appreciate the extra sunlight."

"They most certainly do. The extra hour or so has made those districts a bit happier. More fun in the sun." Tristan then realized that there were guests to welcome as his eyes widened suddenly, "Oh shit, the Skyans!" He rushed out the chamber without another word.

by **Havensky** » Sat Mar 10, 2018 3:07 pm

Hell's Gate, Dephire

The stark white triple-hull of the Skyan airship Ironheart began its descent into the Briskan airbase as it’s escort fighters peeled off. The airship rotated into a proper landing position as it’s turbines directed the craft downwards.

As it landed, the ramp came down and six members of the Iron Guard marched down carrying the Skyan and Gothic flags. As they reached the ground the six stopped and affixed a black banner to each of the flags. The two lead Legionaries the stood at attention as their partners affixed a black cloth concealing their unit insignias on their shields. They then stood on each side of the ramp for Ironwing and Glitch to step off the aircraft.

The rest of the normal pomp and circumstance that would normally surround a state visit was put aside. This was a somber affair.

Ironwing and Glitch had arrived for the funeral of the Empress.

Citadel City Gothic Council Chambers

They had decided to take a short break before resuming the proceedings. Atticus took this time out to make his rounds to all the representatives to make sure he had all the votes that he needed.

Specifically, he wanted to speak with the remaining delegation of Dephire just to ensure their concerns were met.

OCC:

by **Lamehk** » Sun Mar 25, 2018 8:42 am

The Gothic Chamber, The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky

'You know, I don’t think they really like us here,’ Lorkahn mused as he led the Lamehken delegation in a casual stroll from the lobby bar to the Gothic Chamber. He spoke quietly so as not to permit anyone nearby to overhear, though his tone was one of amusement and not concern.

Kaiden shrugged in response as they entered into the garden area. 'They all seemed amicable enough.'

'After all these years, you still think like a Yallakian.’ Lorkahn shook his head and sighed quietly. To rise to a position even remotely close to Lorkahn’s required an extra sense, to look past the words, expressions and actions of a person and see their true feelings hidden deep inside. Trusting the wrong person in Lamehk could get you killed. ‘They need us to side with some proposal they intend to make, it is as simple as that, so they are all smiles for now, but can you not feel it, the unexpressed outrage, the disdain. It’s a miracle we can breathe with the air clogged so full of self-righteousness.’

The Governor-Consul shrugged again. Lorkahn did not appeared phased, indifference to foreigners was a typically Yallakian trait.

‘Idiots’, hissed Serana, 'And who cares what they think!'

'Something the matter, daughter?' queried Lorkahn. He could feel the glare upon his back and when there was no answer he stopped, turning to face her.

Serana merely glowered back in silence. Lorkahn waited, allowing the barest hint of a bored appearance onto his face. It went without saying that he knew exactly what was irritating her but had no intention of scrambling to explain himself to her. In the silence, Kaiden observed with veiled curiosity and Aliyah looked intently at her feet desperately avoiding any eye contact. The two House Malus guards that accompanied the party remained expressionless, their glaive's planted upright on the ground.

'Use your big girl words now,' prodded Lorkahn, taking some effort of will not to smirk.

Serana released a growl that was half frustration and half violence. The sound finally defeated Lorkahn's resistance and the smirk appeared across his lips.

'You owe me an explanation. What are you playing at?' she demanded, before adding with enormous venom and sarcasm, 'Primarch of all Lamehk.'

'Probably,' Lorkahn agreed without further resistance. 'I am playing for the future. But now is not the time and certainly not the place. So come, and we will speak of this further tonight.'

Lorkahn turned away and resumed walking through the garden. Serana's silver eyes smouldered at the indignation, one made worse by the fact that Lorkahn's slave appeared to know more than her, but she saw no way to press the matter now. Aliyah, as if sensing Serana's thoughts, moved quickly to put distance between them, scurrying off after her master. Finally, Serana did as she was told and followed too.

'Did you notice that these trees are a perfect match of red to our House colour, Father?' asked Serana as she caught up, her mood shifted back to that of the sweet princess in an instance. 'I might steal one or two before we leave.'

'Or, you know, perhaps not?' offered Kaiden, even as he tried to think what the diplomatic ramifications of digging up a neighbours official gardens and absconding with some foliage might include.

'Enough, we're here' commanded Lorkahn as the group approached the chamber and the guards opened the doors for the party. They allowed the Skyan Sergeant of the Guard to lead them into the chamber itself and show them to their designated seats, exchanging only perfunctory conversation and greetings.

Stepping up to his assigned throne, Lorkahn gave a cursory look over the items awaiting him on the table and couldn't help give a rare smile as his gaze fell onto one particular object. Ignoring the other items, he picked up the sapling, recognising instantly that it was the same as the trees that grew just outside, studied it briefly and then stepped back to the staff tables where the others had taken seats, depositing the small plant onto the table in front of his daughter. 'There, problem solved.'

'Oh,' said Serana in surprise, not entirely able to keep the disappointment out of her tone. 'Good, I suppose that will do'.

'Indeed. I hope your hadn't got too far into planning your tree heist.'

Lorkahn returned to his throne and sat, holding his cloak to one side so it was out of the way. He brushed a loose strand of hair aside and then examined each of the other items. He started by picking up the little chair but it held little interest and was placed aside after a passing inspection. Next he took up the whisky sample and gave it a try. Ok, not bad. And then a second try just to be sure, before he finally opened up the meeting package.

Alright, let us see what warranted all of those fake pleasantries. Lorkahn skimmed through the meeting agenda and then began to read through the proposals. He was less than pleased with some parts of the proposals but by the end found himself to be largely disappointed by how droll and common the propositions were. Well, that's all a bit anticlimactic really.

Summoning Aliyah, he sent the proposals back to his advisors with the instructions to read it. When they had done so and notified him, he returned to their table.

'Thoughts?' he queried.

Serana scoffed. 'Ridiculous. Why would we let any foreign agent enter our nation and give orders? And to pay for some new capital city's upkeep? Absurd'

'I tend to agree,' interjected Kaiden, causing him to receive a brief glare from Serana, which quickly disappeared as he concurred with her assessment. 'This all sounds very much like the 'Mediterranican Union' that Yallak joined many years back. Almost the same policies, which were fairly useless when it was working and worse when it ended.'

'How did it end?' asked Serana, her curiosity piqued.

Kaiden frowned. 'In blood of course. An all out regional war.'

Serana raised an eyebrow and grinned. It was not grin that suggested pleasant thoughts or brought any warmth. 'Maybe, not such a bad idea after all then!'

Ignoring the comment, Lorkahn looked to his kaltor. 'And you?'

Aliyah took a moment to think before replying. She didn't wish to earn any additional ire from Serana by contradicting what she had said, but neither would she speak anything other than the truth to her master. 'I agree that the cost of funding the city brings us no benefit, but the other sections are of little consequence. The Executor has no real power, the fortresses are of no import and the praetors, well, if they were ever a problem they would hardly be the first to be killed in Lamehk for interfering in business that didn't concern them. Still, doesn't really seem like it brings us any value in return.'

Lorkahn nodded and Aliyah looked away quickly, a faint colour in her cheeks. Serana scowled and looked to her father. 'It's settled then, we can return home now?'

'Soon,' answered Lorkahn, returning to his throne.

After a few minutes, when there was a lull in other discussions, Lorkahn address the Skyans. 'I congratulate you on some eloquent and well-thought proposals and applaud their noble goals. At this point I have no concerns and would be pleased to support the implementation of all four proposals.'

Kaiden, Serana and Aliyah listened in stunned silence as they heard Lorkahn praise their hosts documents. They stoically hid the disbelief from their expressions but exchanged a few questioning glances.

Aware that she was under the eyes of all Golgoth, Serana casually crossed to her fathers side and sat down on the arm of the throne, whispering into his ear. 'What was that? Did we not all just agree how pointless those things were?'

'I told you...' Lorkahn paused just short of dismissing his daughter without an answer but then changed his mind. 'Let's just say that anyone with decent intelligence would assume we would be opposed or at least contradictory about these documents. Funding a city is a small price to pay to have every lord in this room questioning what they really know about me and the decisions i'll make. Now go, we will discuss plans tonight.'

by **Havensky** » Mon Mar 26, 2018 7:32 pm

The Gothic Chamber

It was true. Atticus didn’t care much for slavers and that included Lorkahn. However, Atticus’ aversion to the slavers was nothing compared to the revulsion of the rest of the Skyan delegation. As they were all trained diplomats, save one, they didn’t show a hint of animosity.

Squall wasn’t the greatest of diplomats. His cross training with Atticus had given him an understanding of the basics, an ability to observe the necessary protocols, and to be cordial. The voice of his fiance reverberating in his head, “Be nice!” There was something about the Lamehk delegation that bugged him. Something was off. Something was different with Aliyah. The briefing book said they wouldn’t be bringing slaves, but Squall had to wonder. His keen eyes noticed everything even if these traits served him more in combat than in politics.

That being said, Squall had a terrible poker face and his disdain for the slavers was on display. As a highly decorated soldier, it had been easy to play it off as Squall just playing the tough guy.

Atticus would scold him later. He knew he wanted to ask him about the suspicious delegate, but it would only derail the overall effort. He had sized up Lorkahn and determined that he...how did his nephew put it… ‘does not play.’ He’s remember the slight for later, but for now the need to put the region on the path to de-escalation was far more important. That’s what mattered right now.

The fact that Lorkahn had agreed to the reforms came as a bit of a surprise to Atticus. He had assumed that he’d side with the other slavers in the region. Perhaps, the reforms had more appeal than he thought. Perhaps, the constant crisis had turned the tide in the region. Or perhaps, there was an ulterior motive somewhere. He would order Stars and Signals to investigate. Regardless, the aye vote gave Atticus enough breathing room that he felt confident enough to think about next steps.

If the reforms passed, then Havensky would stay in the Gothic Alliance and make a run at trying to use the Council to achieve lasting peace. If the reforms failed, then Havensky would shift towards focusing on building out a military alliance that would enforce its own security. Granted, there was already a military alliance moving to liberate Pudu and render the Scandivans inert.

Atticus still held out hope that the Council could force the Slavers to leave Pudu peacefully, but decades of service had taught him otherwise.

More personally, Atticus had accepted the Prime Minister’s offer to run in the election that would name her successor as a member of the Union party. Atticus original party, the Pacifists, had forced him out long ago after failing to prevent Skyan involvement in Vetalia. If these reforms passed, he had been told that he would have a good shot at it. If they failed, popular anger at the Council would deliver a victory to the Militatants. The attack on the Citadel had been the last straw and the Skyan preference of pacifism was not as solid as it once was.

Atticus stood up and placed his hands on thick wood table.

“The Skyan People give their thanks to the Primarch. If there are no other objections or concerns… On behalf of Gothic Lord Heart, Havensky calls for a vote on the proposals.”

by **Havensky** » Wed Mar 28, 2018 6:11 pm

Atticus, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He was very displeased and frustrated at having gotten to this point without a hitch only to have a second bomb thrown into the proceedings.

“Ah, Captain Skaro. I’m glad you could finally join us in person. I apologize; I had assumed a member of my staff had already given you the latest copy. No matter, I would point out that the document only specifies the fortress be located in Dephire’s territory. I would think the Shattered Zone of Milograd (towards the center of the island) would be the most appropriate location. However, I usually try to leave the details of these grand plans to further negotiation between the affected parties. I apologize, you wouldn’t know that as this is our first major negotiation.”

Atticus started to walk along the edge of the round table.

“A negotiation that you yourself requested. I didn’t try to keep it a secret. The fact that you have come forward to the negotiating table is cause for hope. It’s your own admission - that these constant wars will eventually destroy us - that gave me hope that these reforms actually stood a chance.”

Atticus paused his walk as he stood behind the empty chair where Dreadfire would have sat.

“The fact is, we in this room don’t trust each other and with good reason. However, we must find a way to get along and find other means to work out our differences that don’t involve full scale wars. These reforms aren't perfect and I’m sure we’ll have a lot of details to work through. We might even have to amend them later. I’ll be the first to admit, these are grand steps. It’s a big change for this region - but a big change is what we need. These reforms establish the means of a new way of negotiating and dealing with crisis. These are a new way to secure our borders, to meet each other face to face, and to have the ability to send agents to resolve crisis before they became full scale wars that kill scores of our fellow Goths!”

Atticus took off his glasses and set them down on the table.

“I urge a yes vote on this matter. Let’s have a new day in Gholgoth!”

by **Lamehk** » Thu Mar 29, 2018 7:19 am

The Gothic Chamber, The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky

Still sitting perched against the arm of her father's throne, idly playing with one of the fine, gold chains that decorated her raven black hair, Serana found herself immediately snapped out of a bored stupor at the sound of a voice, boldly calling out across the council chamber. Looking up, she located the source of the disturbance, finding a grubby and altogether unimpressive looking soldier. She did not recognise him, other than his nationality, nor did she care in the slightest who he was but, lacking any other form of stimulating diversion, she began listening. Before the man had even finished his first sentence, a villainous smile was creeping onto her lips.

'Oh, my!' whispered Serana to Lorkahn, as the Kravenite stole the floor and began delivering an oration that far exceeded any of her expectations, in terms of both quality and scandal. Though Atticus hid it almost perfectly, Serana, an expert of human physical and emotional cues obtained from many, many hours of toying and torturing, relished in the annoyance that she could see afflicted the Skyan diplomat. 'How very delightful! Perhaps this little meeting may end up being interesting after all, father.'

Lorkahn frowned. 'More than interesting... an opportunity. Perhaps if you would exercise a modicum of self-control that might become apparent to you too.'

Taking on an air of feigned offence, Serana's smile became an exaggerated pout. 'Have I not? I've not even pulled a weapon on anyone today?! Besides, if you won't deign to reveal your master schemes to me yet, then what else can a girl do but entertain herself?'

'Hmph.' Lorkahn dismissed the conversation with a flick of his hand. 'Fine, but do not do anything to encourage or provoke this division, understand?'

Serana sat back into the chairs arm with a huff, the metallic scales on her dress tinkling quietly like far off chimes. 'I do adore you father...but sometimes you can be such a bore.'

'Noted,' responded Lorkahn off-handedly, then as Atticus finished up his response to the Kravenite officer the Dread Master of Lamehk rose to seize his previously identified opportunity.

'I concur,' proclaimed Lorkahn to the council in the wake of Atticus' passionate plea for cooperation. 'That we are still willingly here and open to discussion, having seen the proposals laid out, tells me that we all, in one way or another, seek this new level of unity for our region. And to show my commitment, in evidence of my word, let me be the first to officially enter a vote of 'Aye' in favour of the proposed agreement.'

Once Lorkahn was seated again, Serana leaned in to his ear and said with a whisper, 'I'm impressed, father. I think the Skyan is simultaneously thrilled and abhorred that he must rely on your support for his fancy treaty.'

Lorkahn did not look to his daughter, instead nodding his respects across the chamber to the Skyan diplomat, but he did answer nonetheless. 'Indeed. You see my dear Serana, when one focuses their mind to a task, it can be made both productive and entertaining. Something to consider, perhaps.'

by **The Scandinvans** » Thu Mar 29, 2018 8:45 am

The Crown Prince, weary of the banter, once more spoke," We Scandinvans have long upheld the oaths that bound us together. We have not waged wars of conquest in the region. We have not overtly antagonized any of the other nations in Gholgoth in an offensive campaign. We denied the enemies of our fellow Lords the capacity to operate within the greater region. Our martial action against Havensky was in response to them betraying the covenant which was supposed to bind us all together. They, as we have stated, invited a hostile foreign force from the Golden Throne to utilize their facilities as a way point to their invasion of the very homeland of the dres'Erid. We were merely reacting to a nation which had openly declared themselves our enemy. We have raised this concern and have not seen any ready effort by them correct their gross errors. Therefore we were forced to act against a nation of democratic saboteurs that proved themselves to be oathbreakers and had the audacity to call us the aggressors when they were serving as the very foundation of the efforts of the Maccabees to invade us."

Stopping for a moment he looked over the room and continued," The notions that the Havenites pedal are those of deluded dres'nalar who have shown that none of their deeds or words can be taken in good faith by us. They see every Gothic Lord who does not bend to the will of popularity contests as being a threat that they must vanquish. They will shatter every throne in the region in order to fulfill their fevered dream of establishing the mob as the ultimate judge. They judge as monsters for merely preserving the orders that our forefathers passed down to us."

"They are indeed the enemies of order, tradition, and reason itself. They do not seek compromise. They do not hope to foster proper coordination within Gholgoth. They instead offer the Gothic Lords the options of surrendering their ancient prerogatives and submission to a system of Praetors who would dare view themselves as being equal to the sovereigns of our region. If we do not bow down before this pitiable institution we only risk the castigation of a mulling assortment of reprobates who have proven themselves unworthy of even addressing us as colleague," Fenric proclaimed.

Gesturing towards the group from Havensky he stated," I offer you a different solution than you wanted. We Scandinvans shall not accept your attempts to impose your will over us. I, acting on behalf of my father the Emperor, am a Lord of Gholgoth. I will not accept the authority of your Praetors to command me or my nation. We shall continue to cooperate with all the nations of Gholgoth and we shall drive out the forces of the Golden Throne which have dared to enter our region. The enemy which you have proclaimed as an ally despite your obligations to the contrary. We Scandin shall preserve our ways in spite of the insistence of Havnesky."

Looking back to the greater room Fenric went on," We shall however treat with the other Gothic Lords over the potential fates of Shen Almaru. We shall even welcome a delegation from the current rulers of Pudu as it is right and proper for them to at least be heard in any discussion over the fate of holdings that they can at least reasonably claim. After all, we Scandinvans do not seek war between the faithful Lords of the region over what is a fairly minor issue to us overall."

Gesturing to the assembly he began to present his proposal for the future of the region's common future," Since we are currently lacking a singular voice which can guide us in times of conflict I propose that we establish the position of Basileus for an appointed Gothic Lord to serve as the effective high commander of the martial forces of Gothic nations. An individual who will be able to guard us against outside threats. One who will be able to resolve internal disputes before total war breaks out between members of this region. Someone who will therefore have the capability of properly safeguarding the stability of the region on all fronts. A person who will need to have the respect of the Lords of Gholgoth and whose honorable nature cannot be questioned by any amidst our noble ranks."

Expanding Fenric concluded," I of course would encourage the ongoing assembly of Gothic Lords to serve as a bastion against potential abuses by the holder of the Basileus and can chose to remove them from the role if they abuse their powers to seek their own enrichment at the expenses of the other Lords."

by **Havensky** » Fri Apr 06, 2018 6:21 pm

This time, Atticus was prepared. He had anticipated this particular line of attack and was eager to rebuff it. The Crown Prince had been broadcasting this same bit of propaganda so much he almost wondered if he was starting to believe his own pitch.

Atticus looked to one of his senior aides and nodded. The Skyan aides began to pass a batch of papers to each Gothic Lord. They showed base exchange agreements with The Golden Throne and satellite photos showing ships in those bases. The next set of documents in the packet showcased every bit of intelligence that the Skyan and Golden Throne forces had collected demonstrating that the Slavers had provided ships to the pirates in Golden Throne territory. The next set were all the copies of every communication the Skyans had sent attempting to establish a meeting between the Slavers and the Golden Throne.

“What you have in your hands my Lords is evidence that what I have been saying since the start is true. It’s well known that we have exchanged naval bases with the Golden Throne. We have extensive trade with the Golden Throne and it made sense to have a military footprint to aid our escort convoys. You’ll notice from the satellite photos that other than a small contingent of Marines and air defense troopers, their presence here is hardly indicative of a military buildup. In the interest of transparency, I’ve also included photos of our base which houses Task Force Kacer. You’ll notice the forces stations there are mostly support staff for the fleet and a single Legion. Task Force Kacer was assigned to the region to help combat pirates that were preying on our shipping vessels.”

Atticus marched up and down the meeting room like a train picking up steam.

“Next, I present unto you photos from several captured pirate vessels. Captain Skaro, might I ask for your expertise in this area?”

Atticus pulled out several photos from his own packet and laid them out in front of Skaro.

“What national origin would you say these ships are from?”

“They’re Scandin vessels. Easily identifiable, they haven’t really bothered to try and hide it, Arrogance. ” Skaro was curt and to the point.

Atticus spun around like hurricane.

“Now, what would Scandin vessels be doing in the hands of pirates? Particularly, pirates that are involved in the slave trade? What explanation could there be?”

Atticus took out another page in the docket.

You’ll find in your packet a transcript from the Golden Throne’s interrogation of one Pirate Captain Blue-Eyed Nolan. Captain Nolan traveled to North Point, the capital of Theohuanacu, to warn the Imperial Governor of the impending rebellion, confessing that they had been supplied by the Scandinvans. A video recording of this interview has been sent to each of your embassies. I’m showing you all of this to show you that I am being honest with you. Upon receiving this intelligence, I ordered the Skyan Diplomatic Corps to attempt to facilitate a meeting between the two nations. Clearly, the Golden Throne had casus belli. In order to prevent conflict, we attempted to mediate… and you all know how that went. One simply needs to look outside to see the wreckage of a downed bomber aircraft.”

Atticus was not slowing. He whipped around the room reaching almost pinball speeds.

“But I would raise a point of order! We have called the vote! There will be plenty of time to discuss the behavior of the Sons of Erid afterwards. The Emperor of the Golden Throne is here - to come before the Lords in good faith! For now, I’ll respond to the charge that these reforms usurp the Lords. An spurious charge as both the Executor and Praetors are voted on by the Lords! The Praetors have to have their missions authorized by this council! They serve as your agents to resolve crises before they grow into full scale war!”

Atticus turned to the Kraven seat.

“Captain Skaro, a question if you will. Would it be possible for your to sail down to the Golden Coast and sink all the vessels provided to the pirates by Scandin?”

“Yes, it would be possible, you would need to evade the Golden Thrones anti sub net, but once you were in position it would only be a matter of time for the pirate vessels to present themselves”

Atticus nodded along.

“How long do you think it would take? A few weeks, a few months, a year?”

“A week at the most, maybe a bit longer if any of the Pirate Captains are competent, I’m also including in my estimations pausing for resupply, incase any of you were wondering” Skaro had at this point sat down in the chair designated to The Reich, he leaned back in it and put his feet onto the table, this type of behavior was totally unheard of in The Reich and his blatant disregard for norms and etiquette were quite apparent.

Atticus ignored the breach and just nodded along. He then gestured to the rest of the room.

“So, under the Praetor System - the Gothic Executor would have heard a complaint from the Golden Throne and convened an emergency meeting. Since everyone has a presence in the new capital everyone has representatives already here. The Council, in its wisdom, decides to rectify the situation by sending Skaro to sink the ships…. In a single week. This would have made the Golden Throne whole and prevented their military from having to come here to deal with the problem. A lot more simple if you ask me.”

Atticus returned to the Skyan chair.

“My Lords, please give yourselves the power to resolve this crisis before it gets even further out of hand. Give yourselves the power to change our world and not simply to resign ourselves to constant bloodshed. Vote yes, to a new day in Gholgoth. Then, as a united front, we can face the crisis that brought us here.”

IIwiki Admin · by **Ghant** » Fri Apr 06, 2018 11:39 pm

“The Finisher”
The Gothic Chamber, The White Citadel
Citadel City, Havensky

The Emperor of Ghant leaned back in his chair and listened to the ruminations of the other Gothic Lords. It was very much something he was used to, having been Emperor for thirty years and being well practiced in participating in such brisk discussions as these. Fortunately, Lorkahn of Lamehk voiced his support for the reforms as they were proposed. “I congratulate you on some eloquent and well-thought proposals and applaud their noble goals. At this point I have no concerns and would be pleased to support the implementation of all four proposals.”

Their support came as no surprise to the Emperor, believing that the proposals on the floor were what was required to achieve peace and unity in the region. Though Ghant was not a nation that ever practiced chattel slavery, Nathan understood very well that a strong Gothic Pact was in the long term best interest of the slaver nations. They tended to have more enemies than friends, and the Gothic Alliance provided very powerful friends. While the Skyans abhorred slavery, they were useful allies, and ones with substantial diplomatic clout to boot.

“The Skyan People give their thanks to the Primarch,” Atticus declared while standing up. “If there are no other objections or concerns… On behalf of Gothic Lord Heart, Havensky calls for a vote on the proposals…”

Nathan heard it before he saw it. A voice calling out from across the room, punctuated by the sound of boots upon the floor. "I have an objection, Atticus, we never discussed putting a Fortress next door to the Reich, they wouldn't accept it so close to the border, you made no mention of it during the talks, I made no mention of it when I suggested these proposals...”

Skaro, Nathan realized, watching the Kravenite Captain enter the room, clad in his Naval Officer uniform. The Emperor of Ghant continued to listen to Skaro explain the Reich’s position. "The Reich would never accept these proposals with a Citadel next door to Norska, I can't possibly say what The Reich would do should it be forced upon them, it will probably be bloody, though I can guarantee they will withdraw their support and order my return to Norska... I suggest you come up with an alternative proposal and soon before I am recalled..."

Nathan didn’t flinch, because he was used to men like Skaro. His own uncle and regent during his youth was a hard, military man as well. Punctual, brutal, efficient, Albert was never one to mince words or be patient with soft, idealistic boys like Nathan once was. So the Emperor sat, and listened to him talk, and then to Atticus’s response.

“Ah, Captain Skaro. I’m glad you could finally join us in person. I apologize; I had assumed a member of my staff had already given you the latest copy. No matter, I would point out that the document only specifies the fortress be located in Dephire’s territory. I would think the Shattered Zone of Milograd (towards the center of the island) would be the most appropriate location. However, I usually try to leave the details of these grand plans to further negotiation between the affected parties. I apologize, you wouldn’t know that as this is our first major negotiation.”

Atticus rounded the table, and added that it was “a negotiation that you yourself requested. I didn’t try to keep it a secret. The fact that you have come forward to the negotiating table is cause for hope. It’s your own admission - that these constant wars will eventually destroy us - that gave me hope that these reforms actually stood a chance.”

Walking over to Damien Dreadfire’s seat, Atticus continued. “The fact is, we in this room don’t trust each other and with good reason. However, we must find a way to get along and find other means to work out our differences that don’t involve full scale wars. These reforms aren't perfect and I’m sure we’ll have a lot of details to work through. We might even have to amend them later. I’ll be the first to admit, these are grand steps. It’s a big change for this region - but a big change is what we need. These reforms establish the means of a new way of negotiating and dealing with crisis. These are a new way to secure our borders, to meet each other face to face, and to have the ability to send agents to resolve crisis before they became full scale wars that kill scores of our fellow Goths! I urge a yes vote on this matter. Let’s have a new day in Gholgoth!”

“I concur,” Lorkahn of Lamehk proclaimed to the council in response. “That we are still willingly here and open to discussion, having seen the proposals laid out, tells me that we all, in one way or another, seek this new level of unity for our region. And to show my commitment, in evidence of my word, let me be the first to officially enter a vote of 'Aye' in favor of the proposed agreement.”

Nathan understood quite well that the Kravenites were skeptical of the Skyans, and he wanted to set the record straight with Skaro. So, after having cleared his throat, the Emperor of Ghant addressed the Kravenite Captain thusly. “With all due respect, Captain Skaro, Atticus didn’t discuss this western fortress with the Kraven Reich because it isn’t his idea. It’s mine…I’m the one that proposed the amendment,” he began to explain. “I proposed this amendment because I believe that it is of vital importance to this alliance to protect all of its frontiers…the north, south, east and west. Especially the east, since that is the direction from which the Golden Fleet originated, and the other Dienstadi powers.”

With outstretched hands, Nathan spoke gently, as though he were addressing an old friend. “I didn’t suggest the Reich being the location of this western fortress because, frankly, I knew that the Reich would refuse to play host to one. Given that, and the geography, some territory beholden to Briska makes the most logical sense. I would have thought that you would endorse this proposal wholeheartedly, as the Briskans are obligated by Gothic Law to refrain from any hostile actions against the Kraven Reich, and securing that western frontier is critical in defending the Gothic Alliance from the Golden Throne and its allies, who by all accounts abhor slavery and…what they consider to be grievous affronts to human rights. A fortress in that part of the region goes a long way in addressing that potential threat.”

It took some time, but eventually, the Crown Prince of the Scandinvans spoke, addressing the assembled Gothic Lords. “We Scandinvans have long upheld the oaths that bound us together. We have not waged wars of conquest in the region. We have not overtly antagonized any of the other nations in Gholgoth in an offensive campaign. We denied the enemies of our fellow Lords the capacity to operate within the greater region. Our martial action against Havensky was in response to them betraying the covenant which was supposed to bind us all together. They, as we have stated, invited a hostile foreign force from the Golden Throne to utilize their facilities as a way point to their invasion of the very homeland of the dres'Erid. We were merely reacting to a nation which had openly declared themselves our enemy. We have raised this concern and have not seen any ready effort by them correct their gross errors. Therefore we were forced to act against a nation of democratic saboteurs that proved themselves to be oathbreakers and had the audacity to call us the aggressors when they were serving as the very foundation of the efforts of the Maccabees to invade us."

Flimsy grounds to justify breaking the most important covenant of the Gothic Alliance, Nathan thought to himself, as he sat back in his throne and listened attentively to Crown Prince Fenric’s speech.

"The notions that the Havenites pedal are those of deluded dres'nalar who have shown that none of their deeds or words can be taken in good faith by us. They would see every Gothic Lord who does not bend to the will of popularity contests as being a threat that they must vanquish. They will shatter every throne in the region in order to fulfill their fevered dream of establishing the mob as the ultimate judge. They judge as monsters for merely preserving the orders that our forefathers passed down to us."

Says the man who circumvented his father’s authority with the help of cronies and cohorts… Nathan noted the irony, but still remained quiet, and still.

"They are indeed the enemies of order, tradition, and reason itself. They do not seek compromise. They do not hope to foster proper coordination within Gholgoth. They instead offer the Gothic Lords the options of surrendering their ancient prerogatives and submission to a system of Praetors who would dare view themselves as being equal to the sovereigns of our region. If we do not bow down before this pitiable institution we only risk the castigation of a mulling assortment of reprobates who have proven themselves unworthy of even addressing us as colleague," Fenric proclaimed.

Ah, the pot calling the kettle black!

Gesturing towards the group from Havensky he stated, “I offer you a different solution than you wanted. We Scandinvans shall not accept your attempts to impose your will over us. I, acting on behalf of my father the Emperor, am a Lord of Gholgoth. I will not accept the authority of your Praetors to command me or my nation. We shall continue to cooperate with all the nations of Gholgoth and we shall drive out the forces of the Golden Throne which have dared to enter our region. The enemy which you have proclaimed as an ally despite your obligations to the contrary. We Scandin shall preserve our ways in spite of the insistence of Havnesky."

Hmm…good point, Nathan thought to himself as he noted that concern. Perhaps the Praetor’s, while nominated by their respective nations and under their general purview, should be answerable to the Executor…

Looking back to the greater room Fenric went on, “We shall however treat with the other Gothic Lords over the potential fates of Shen Almaru. We shall even welcome a delegation from the current rulers of Pudu as it is right and proper for them to at least be heard in any discussion over the fate of holdings that they can at least reasonably claim. After all, we Scandinvans do not seek war between the faithful Lords of the region over what is a fairly minor issue to us overall."

You certainly do face larger issues…

Gesturing to the assembly, Fenric presented his proposal. "Since we are currently lacking a singular voice which can guide us in times of conflict I propose that we establish the position of Basileus for an appointed Gothic Lord to serve as the effective high commander of the martial forces of Gothic nations. An individual who will be able to guard us against outside threats. One who will be able to resolve internal disputes before total war breaks out between members of this region. Someone who will therefore have the capability of properly safeguarding the stability of the region on all fronts. A person who will need to have the respect of the Lords of Gholgoth and whose honorable nature cannot be questioned by any amidst our noble ranks."

…Sounds like something that the Executor ought to do…

Fenric concluded, "I of course would encourage the ongoing assembly of Gothic Lords to serve as a bastion against potential abuses by the holder of the Basileus and can chose to remove them from the role if they abuse their powers to seek their own enrichment at the expenses of the other Lords."

Atticus, like Nathan, seemed to be listening attentively, and once Fenric was done speaking, explained that “what you have in your hands my Lords is evidence that what I have been saying since the start is true. It’s well known that we have exchanged naval bases with the Golden Throne. We have extensive trade with the Golden Throne and it made sense to have a military footprint to aid our escort convoys. You’ll notice from the satellite photos that other than a small contingent of Marines and air defense troopers, their presence here is hardly indicative of a military buildup. In the interest of transparency, I’ve also included photos of our base which houses Task Force Kacer. You’ll notice the forces stations there are mostly support staff for the fleet and a single Legion. Task Force Kacer was assigned to the region to help combat pirates that were preying on our shipping vessels.”

The Emperor looked on as Atticus paced back and forth, presenting his information to the Gothic Lords. “Next, I present unto you photos from several captured pirate vessels. Captain Skaro, might I ask for your expertise in this area?” Atticus drew some photographs and showed them to Skaro. “What national origin would you say these ships are from?”

“They’re Scandin vessels. Easily identifiable, they haven’t really bothered to try and hide it, Arrogance,” Skaro answered curtly.

Atticus spun around and asked, “now, what would Scandin vessels be doing in the hands of pirates? Particularly, pirates that are involved in the slave trade? What explanation could there be?”

Atticus took out another page from his file, and added that “You’ll find in your packet a transcript from the Golden Throne’s interrogation of one Pirate Captain Blue-Eyed Nolan. Captain Nolan traveled to North Point, the capital of Theohuanacu, to warn the Imperial Governor of the impending rebellion, confessing that they had been supplied by the Scandinvans. A video recording of this interview has been sent to each of your embassies. I’m showing you all of this to show you that I am being honest with you. Upon receiving this intelligence, I ordered the Skyan Diplomatic Corps to attempt to facilitate a meeting between the two nations. Clearly, the Golden Throne had casus belli. In order to prevent conflict, we attempted to mediate… and you all know how that went. One simply needs to look outside to see the wreckage of a downed bomber aircraft.”

Atticus whipped around continued his verbal diatribe. “But I would raise a point of order! We have called the vote! There will be plenty of time to discuss the behavior of the Sons of Erid afterwards. The Emperor of the Golden Throne is here - to come before the Lords in good faith! For now, I’ll respond to the charge that these reforms usurp the Lords. An spurious charge as both the Executor and Praetors are voted on by the Lords! The Praetors have to have their missions authorized by this council! They serve as your agents to resolve crises before they grow into full scale war!”

Atticus turned his attention to Skaro again. “Captain Skaro, a question if you will. Would it be possible for your to sail down to the Golden Coast and sink all the vessels provided to the pirates by Scandin?”

“Yes, it would be possible,” Skaro answered. “You would need to evade the Golden Thrones anti-sub net, but once you were in position it would only be a matter of time for the pirate vessels to present themselves”

Atticus nodded, and then asked, “how long do you think it would take? A few weeks, a few months, a year?”

“A week at the most, maybe a bit longer if any of the Pirate Captains are competent, I’m also including in my estimations pausing for resupply, in case any of you were wondering.” By now, Skaro had taken his designated seat and even put his feet up. Nathan, noticing his, grinned and did the same, feeling quite comfortable as he did.

“So, under the Praetor System - the Gothic Executor would have heard a complaint from the Golden Throne and convened an emergency meeting. Since everyone has a presence in the new capital everyone has representatives already here. The Council, in its wisdom, decides to rectify the situation by sending Skaro to sink the ships…. In a single week. This would have made the Golden Throne whole and prevented their military from having to come here to deal with the problem. A lot more simple if you ask me.”

Atticus returned to his seat. “My Lords, please give yourselves the power to resolve this crisis before it gets even further out of hand. Give yourselves the power to change our world and not simply to resign ourselves to constant bloodshed. Vote yes, to a new day in Gholgoth. Then, as a united front, we can face the crisis that brought us here.”

I’ve heard enough of this shit. Nathan took his feet down and sighed, before standing up. “I’ll be the first to say, that me personally as a husband, as a father, and as what I would consider a decent human being, personally find slavery distasteful. Now having said that, I will also be the first man here to defend the rights of the slaver nations of Gholgoth to exercise their rights to carry out their institutions as they see fit. In no way do I allow my personal beliefs, whatever they may be, to color my policies in my capacity as a Gothic Lord.”

The Emperor of Ghant extended his hands while looking around the room. “As I understand it, the Gothic Alliance is a pact between nations of Gholgoth to see to their mutual defense against external threats, and places a prohibition against attacks levied against them by fellow Gothic states. Now I do sympathize with the Golden Throne’s grievances, I really do. It’s an unfortunate situation, truly.”

Coughing into his hand then, the Emperor continued to explain his position, albeit carefully. “However, I want to explain what I think the treaty would entail given the situation presented to us by Sir. Atticus. Frankly, I don’t think it’s our job to play world police. If the Golden Emperor, whom for the record I do consider a friend, gives me a call and complains about slaver pirates in Dienstad, I’d make two things very clear to him. One, Gothic nations act outside of Gholgoth at their own risk, and assume that risk when they commit themselves to said action, and secondly, if any Gothic nation isn’t breaking the pact, then there’s nothing we’re obligated to do.”

“This whole situation could have been easily avoided if two things didn’t happen. One, if the war between the Golden Throne and the Scandinvans were contained to Dienstad, and two, if the Scandinvans didn’t bomb Citadel City. I agree with my Skyan comrade that Praetors could have mitigated this because they would have been able to communicate. What we’ve been experiencing is largely a failure to communicate. An active Executor could have helped with that too.”

Nathan shook his head, especially as he looked anxiously towards Atticus, a man that he admired and called a friend. “It’s not the job of the Gothic Alliance to deal with the problems of other lands beyond Gholgoth. Our job is to deal with our own problems. As we become more divided, we grow weaker. Our enemies grow, and like jackals become emboldened by our weakness. Make no mistake, we either learn to live together, or die alone. As a man who’s been an Emperor for thirty years, since the age of nine, I can say one thing with absolute certainty. It’s easy to start conflict, but it’s hard to finish it. Yet, finish it we must, if we are to survive. In order to do that, we must all be prepared to make sacrifices.”

Looking to Fenric, Nathan said that “I believe that the Basileus position that you have presented should fall under the role of the Executor. At their discretion, perhaps, the Executor could appoint such an office, as needs be deemed necessary. To that end, I also believe that the Praetors should operate under the authority of the Executor, and ultimately be answerable to that office. That way, all shall know that the Praetors act with the authority of the Executor, and to refuse them or bring them unto harm shall be to incur the Executor’s wrath.”

“In light of what I’ve just said, I accept the proposals as presented and amended, and I would encourage the rest of you to do the same. There once was a dream that was Gholgoth, and it shall be realized once more.” Finding his seat again, Nathan made himself comfortable, and giving an approving look to Skaro, put his feet up again. Huh…maybe I should do this more often…

Never the twain shall meet [Complete]

Surprise Royale

The Gothic Reforms

The Short Flight

Call the Vote

Back and Forth

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