The human continent was geologically divided into three distinct areas. The upper continent, mid-continent, and the lower reaches.

The middle of the human continent was seen by many in the empire as a disorganized waste, dotted with greedy straw-kings and sham nobility. This perception could likely be dated back to the propaganda the first emperor had harnessed to silence the voices of concern that pleaded for their lands to be spared.

Of course, sparing them never occurred, the growth of the empire only halted upon reaching the Isthmus of Hiritis and simply running out of space to march their battalions. The narrow land bridge connecting the upper continent to the middle had always been a fiercely protected passage, and the empire simply read that as its end of the road.

Controlling the upper continent would be difficult enough for the then-aged first emperor, and he refused to inhere his children a toppling throne. So in his final twenty years of life, he fiercely stomped out all uprisings and devoted his efforts to strengthening the loyalty of his regionally appointed governors.

His choice was rewarded. His successor, Emperor Kamraq of the golden plain, was heralded as a turning point the people could believe in. After decades of fearing the empire, the people could finally take pride in it. In their minds their emperor’s decisions were no-longer penned in blood-red ink.

As wars shifted and warped the borders of the mid-continent, with few stabilizing factors like Gaurdia, or the Irias Trade Federation; the people of the empire began to scoff at the thought of war.

The uncivilized of the mid-continent incapable of peaceful coexistence; most forgot the price their grandparents paid to form this peace.

After Kamraq, his second son Udaloq ruled under the given title ‘Emperor Udaloq the wine-stained’. His reign was known for the festivals that he patroned across the upper-continent, grand events that became holidays for the regional masses. He was imagined in tales as a jovial man with purpling lips and a hearty laugh that could shake the bark off a sapling.

Reality wasn’t far from tale in this case; as the second son never expected to rule, Udaloq’s childhood was far more lenient than his older brother’s.

In turn he was far less educated and prioritized luxury and pleasure over economy or power. Perhaps if fever hadn’t taken the crown prince, the empire would be in a far different place today.

After Udaloq, and a funeral that lasted more than a month, yet oddly few remember, his daughter Empress Sarataq was crowned.

The youngest of the heirs before her, aging only nineteen when she took to the throne, Sarataq was a delicate woman who held intelligence in high regard. In her time, something new spread with her careful quiet encouragement.

A spark of curiosity.

She spread tales of mystery through the royal edicts, which normally read so grandly. Instead, they often read as poetry or broke down calculations into word form to explain her decisions. As her father patroned carnivals and performers, she patroned great academies and libraries.

Her opus was a program of traveling scholars that would spread literacy and culture to even the furthest stretches of the vast upper-continental empire. Named the ‘seeds of knowledge’, these scholars would leave lasting impacts on each village they visited. One Scholar could produce a thousand teachers, and Empress Sarataq understood the concept of exponential growth.

By the time the Empress first showed wrinkling hands, a villager chosen at random could read to you any word from even the newest print. And beyond that, they could express their own thoughts eloquently and responsibly.

A good teacher could make even a dullard a genius.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

This if anything created a further divide between the empirical upper-continent and the mid-continents ‘outdated’ nobility as they saw it. If an empire’s villager could calculate a fields yield faster than a noble’s prince, what else could they think but themselves superior.

Trade did occur. But entirely through the port cities, the land bridge Hiritis held strong as a bulwark between the two societies.

Mostly they imported tropical delicacies and exported fine liquors. But they were most known for the books and tradition that trickled from the high empire. Harvest festivals that originated far up in the northern plains could be found as far south as the Tritit Republic.

After the First Empress came her only daughter Empress Yuzui.

Not much was known of the heiress prior to her ascendance to the throne. For many years she was known as little more than a rumor, after all Empress Sarataq had never married, or even shown visible interest in a man. Had most known of the Empress’ yearlong disappearance, perhaps they’d have put more consideration into the wild rumor of her heir. But, since the truth of her tryst had been kept under wraps, few recognized the heir-apparent at her mother’s funeral.

Only once the portraits commemorating her coronation spread did people even realize she existed.

Like her mother in her youth, the young Empress had a refined face with a quizzical smile that made her look as if she was always questioning whatever lay in her sight. In the portrait her auburn hair lay untamed across her left shoulder, her ochre eyes glimmered slightly blankly as-if staring past the painter to some fascinating scene far behind him.

Her simplistic beauty spread like wildfire as the ideal of all. Without a word she was adored by her people.

Which she didn’t hate. But she did feel a bit demeaned when considering the titles of her ancestors before her.

Golden plains for the abundance after the bloodshed.

Wine-stained to celebrate the maintained peace.

And then the ‘Matron of Knowledge’, her mother.

How large had they seen the footprints they were laying? Were they even aware those behind them would see only canyons?

“Binig, what do you know about the demons?”

The Consul of the young Empress gulped at the suddenness of the question but then followed it with one of his own. “The southern demons, or the demons of the sky they send to harass with?”

“Hmm?” Yuzui pondered, setting down her fairy tale with newfound curiosity. She expected the type of answer she would normally receive when asking the old scholar a query. But instead, he appeared unsure where to be fully begin.

“This is more tale than truth, but in villages on other side of the western divide there are stories of an ancient war with flesh-demons. In the stories, a great kingdom nearing the brink of disaster calls upon a great hero to repel the demons and chases them off the edge of the ocean.”

“The edge of the ocean…” Yuzui sputters with a laugh. “There’s no edge to… Ah, I see.”

“Mmh.” Consul Binigal nods slightly. “Some read into the story that those demons were the precursors to the demons we face now.”

“So all because mom proved we live on an orb, the kings of the south have decide to point their ships at random and hunt down our ancient foe?”

“What would you do?” Consol said, clearly asking not as Consul to Empress, but as teacher to student.

“I don’t know.” Yuzui answered as Empress without thinking, eventually shaking her head she tried to considering it as an outsider like Binigal had wanted. “I think it’s silly to put too much faith in ancient stories.”

The Consul began to open his mouth as soon as he heard this, but the empress motioned him to wait.

“However, I know stories are not told for nothing. The sea monsters that frequent Pilat’s Bay for instance. At face value it’s obvious that nothing dangerous frequents those waters, but when the earth shook in my grandfather’s reign, Pilat’s bay proved its danger. The waves swept away hundreds of miles of forests, if people didn’t fear the bay, the damage could have been devastating.”

“Well put,” The consul nodded approvingly before repeating his question. “So, based on that how would you interpret the stories of demons.”

The young empress sat silent awhile as she mentally grouped her thoughts into an order that made sense. “I think its possible that demons really do live on the other side of the world. If the story is to be believed, we chased them there with the help of a hero. But if those were our enemies now, then why don’t they attack our shores?”

“Well-”

“I mean by boat.” Yuzui corrected, remembering a few stories she’d heard from reports. “And if they are flesh, why does the wreckage never appear fleshy?”

“Scholars in the mid-continent speculate the darts are a demonic manifestation sent as some sort of preliminary attack.”

“Ah, so its magic. Well, what do you speculate?” Yuzui asked with a chuckle, noting the Consul’s hesitant expression.

“I wonder.” Binigal shrugged, trying to hold his various retorts back, out of respect for the foreign colleagues. “It does feel convenient to hand-wave it as magical manifestation. But convenience is nice.”

“It is.” Yuzui chuckled again with a hand covering her playful grin.