The Ninth Emperor stood speechless. The first of the communiques have gone through the Hall of Tranquil Clairvoyance late afternoon. They have been so shocking that the Emperor called for an emergency meeting with the High Council and Provincial governers, something never before done since the reign of the last Emperor.
Slakonian, Pitkoria and numerous others, through design or coincidence sickeningly decides to declare war on the Land of the Great Mother on the Estusian New Year's Day. Omos of Sullor, Chief of Diplomacy, was visibly fluttered. Scanning through the telegrams, he repeatedly stressed, "What could they possibly want? There is no way Estusia can go through this without irrevocable damage, your Highness." Now reduced to low, panicked chittering, he continued to whisper in the Emperor's ear. "Perhaps if we were to give them some economic benefit and avoid the bloodshed, it would be much easier to contain the damage then ..." The Emperor cut him off, "You mean to pay tribute." Omos of Sullor's face reddened and he did not answer - it was precisely what he had suggested, and a suggestion though fitting for foreign thinking was grossly against the codes of Honor and Duty the Great Mother laid before them all. The Emperor sat silent, brooding. The provincial governors, most of them of a younger generation that has grown up under the protective wing of the Emperor and have never seen true war.
Dat Sebah, Tamer of Phoenixes, Guardian of the Truth and the Right Hand of the Emperor, broke the silence. "Might be as well", he grunted in his gutteral half-speech. "I have not eaten properly for too long." He ended his remark with a thunderous fart. Everyone in the room knew it was half bravado and half veiled fear. Fear was a good thing to have. A warrior fears. Only a fool knows no fear.
The Emperor raised his head. He has come to a decision. "Dat Sebah."
"Present, your Highness."
"Get with your underlings and get to work on a defensive plan. I want to see it in three hours. And mobilise the militia."
"Immediately, your Highness."
"Excellent. Vardom"
"Present, your Highness."
"Prepare the Imperial Channel. I shall make a statement to the people in an hour."
"Yes, your Highness."
An hour later, the Palace of Glorious Exhaltation
The Emperor sat within the broadcast room of the Palace of Glorious Exhaltation. In a minute, the inputs from this room will feed to every television, every radio and every device capable of producing sound or images in the whole of Estusia. He most regretted having to deliver the message, but if Estusia as a people were to survive it must be done.
A senior technician from behind the cameras gave him a thumbs up and mouthed to him, "You're on." The Ninth Emperor nodded imperceptably in thanks.
He needed no script. This speech was to come from his heart, and no script will ever put the good of the people as the foremost priority.
"People of Estusia, I am your Emperor. It is with great sorrow that I come to you today. Many states have declared war on Estusia for no justification; I will not let this unreasoned threat go undefended.
"From the Script of Rhantak, "The people of Vatydi were troubled by bandits. The Great Mother took great pity on them, and unto them sent Runthor to give them arms to defend themselves with and the will and courage to fight. The bandits came next season to steal cattle, and the people of Vatydi resisted with newfound strength of body and mind."
"And so today, as Runthor did to the people of Vatydi, I call the Children of the Great Mother: To arms! Estusia is now in a state of Defiance. The upcoming struggle will be long and tough, and no doubt few would live to see its end. But for the sake of our children, in the name of our Great Mother, we must do our duty. I am certainly ready to do mine.
"Thankyou, and may the Fates be kind to us all."
