In a grand hall adorned with opulent tapestries and intricate chandeliers, nobles in resplendent attire converse with wizards wearing robes adorned with strange symbols. Merchants, easily distinguished by their sumptuous fabrics, engage in hushed discussions, forming a tapestry of power and influence.

The air is thick with tension, the weight of the kingdom's uncertain future is palpable. A large, ornate table lies at the head of the chamber, displaying maps and documents that determine Helgos' fate. The flicker of candlelight dances across concerned faces as they debate the fate of the kingdom.

“This cannot stand. We must have a response!” An elderly noble complained to the assembled lords and pillars of the community.

“Lord Corlis, contain yourself. We will not have this council devolve into a verbal spat.” A woman answered, chastising the steaming noble.

“Fine, Lady Janis, but you all see the dire state we are in. Unknown terrorists ravage our capital. Citizens in the street and what makes this worse. The Empire didn’t do a blood thing to stop it.” Despite his tone lessening in volume, his anti-imperial sentiment remained.

“To blame everything on the Empire is a bit much, Hector. I mean, the attack decimated many of their institutions.”

The trio were an odd pairing. An elderly noble with greying hair and the lines of age. Despite the advanced age, he carried himself like a bear, ready for a fight. The woman was much younger but looked in her forties. Her face permanently set as unemotional as humanly possible.

The third noble was young, looking to be in his late twenties. He had the vigour of youth, sharp eyes and a gleam in his eyes that desired everything he could get.

“That just proves the fact. The Empire, despite lording themselves over us, couldn’t even defend themselves.” Spewing his venomous words, straight upon the Empire. Several attendees of this council nodded, while others remained silent.

“The Empire dispatched their champions. I even heard the hero of fire single handedly quelled a blaze in the upper district.” One merchant added in defence of the Empire.

Lord Corlis scowled at the one who spoke, so named Master Samhan. The disdain was obvious and with no intention of concealing. Samhan winced, but stood his ground. He was a pillar of the community and the guild master of the Merchant Alliance. The alliance loosely associated with the Guild collective, but not yet fully integrated.

“The Guild Master has a point; we have the trinity in our city now. It would be unwise to provoke the Empire.” Another voice spoke, a stocky and well-built man.

He was the master of the Mercenary Guild and a fabled warrior in his younger days. Still young by earth standards, his half a century of life has yet to claim his strength.

“Master Gerris is right, the heroic trinity is within our borders. They are the physical manifestation of the empire's power.” Guild Master Samhan exclaimed.

“Perhaps we should wait until Warden Anthos recovers before making any drastic action.” Lady Janis spoke, her attempt to quell the treasonous direction.

“Anthos is all but dead. My aids have informed me he is poisoned with devil's blood. Like the champion of Aquara, they are both dead.” Corlis sneered. To all in attendance, he seemed to enjoy that very reality.

“That is blasphemy Corlis, you must repent.” The representative of the temples rose from his seat and chastised the noble.

To everyone, the robed and elderly man in his late seventies had no faith behind his words. The entire council knew he had lost his faith. He spent most of his time just repeating the sermons and posing as a holy man. For many years now, the Temple's power and popularity had waned. The spirits could not find many followers in Helgos and thus their outreach programs were subpar.

People widely considered the Guild Collective, possessing immeasurable wealth and support, the true church in a kingdom of atheists. Nothing was better represented than High Priest Negan. A holy man on the outside, but a sniveling snake on the inside.

Amid the fervent debate, a figure in rich, opulent attire rises from his seat. Mr. Stillson, a shrewd and wealthy merchant, exudes an aura of cold calculation. His piercing eyes sweep across the room as he clears his throat, demanding attention. Just as he speaks, a discreet man leans in to whisper urgent news.

Despite the aid's pale face and strained whispering, Stillson’s expression remains the same. Once done, he nods to his aid and the man quickly vacates. Shifting his attention back to the assembled council. He noticed each of them had ceased all debate and had their full attention on him.

"Assembled councilors, I think it would be far more prudent to decide once we have all the facts."

“What is it Jonathan? Do you have something to say?” Samhan inquired, a slight note of displeasure in his voice.

Stillson ignored the impolite use of his first name, instead he continued. “I have just heard a report of a Lankosian invasion force crossing the border. The army will reach Aresla in a matter of days.” He delivered the news so calmly; anyone would think he was describing the weather.

Suddenly, the council erupted into a panic. Lords, ladies, merchants and guild masters, each expressing the fear those words had incited. The notion of war was something everyone had suspected. But the cold, hard reality pounded them. This war could plunge the continent into the largest conflict in human history.

“It is only a Lankosian army, perhaps this will just be a border dispute with Tarkon.” Lord Corlis lackey spoke up, trying to inject hope into a desolate room.

“The invasion force is much too large for a simple border dispute. Tarkon will have to field an equal number, unless they want to seed Aresla to Lankos.” Shooting down the lackey, the room quickly returns to the tense atmosphere.

“The King of Tarkon would never seed land to savages. It would consign his people to slave labour and that’s the kinder fate.” Another noble added.

Beside him, his attendant, dressed in extravagant attire, passionately addresses the gathering, "Esteemed council, it is my solemn belief that the Demi-humans of Lankos exist in a state of sheer savagery, devoid of the refinement that graces our own society. We must rally our troops and stand united with the noble kingdom of Tarkon. If we deploy our own forces to rescue Aresla. The King of Tarkon will be in our debt." Explaining his reasoning, the obvious disdain for the nun-humans was clear.

“That action is far too hasty. Our kingdom has yet to recover from this tragedy. Besides, I have met Lankosians personally. They were quite amicable during my dealings in Teskamir.” Stillson interjected. His words seemed on the surface to be in defence of a species.

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To the untrained eye, he appeared to reject the image of Demi-humans as savages. But a closer inspection would reveal he was only providing the cold, hard facts. Stillson had travelled across the border into the federation several times. While the relationship between the Empire and the Federation was poor, there was still trade.

Most of his trips were to the Trade City of Teskamir. Teskamir, nestled within the United Realms of Lankos, is a remarkable semi-independent city-state with a vibrant history and diverse population. Originally established as a trading town amidst the turmoil of the repeated war between Tarkon and Lankos.

It evolved slowly into a bustling city. Refugees from various backgrounds sought solace within its walls. The heart of Teskamir beats with a multicultural rhythm, inhabited by Demi-humans such as beast men, demons, and a small human minority. The city's unique makeup enriches its culture, architecture, and daily life. Its streets are lively tapestries of language, tradition, and customs. A testament to the coexistence of different races.

Having risen from its humble origins, Teskamir has grown into an economic player on the board. Its bustling bazaars are renowned across the region. The city's strategic location has made it a hub for commerce and trade between the vassals of the Empire and Teskamir itself.

Teskamir's journey to independence and its eventual membership in the Federation revealed the city's determination to carve its own destiny. Its status, comparable to that of the esteemed Wizard State of Ikarus, reflected its political importance and contribution to the greater realm. Teskamir is more than just a city; it's a testament to the potential of cooperation and understanding among diverse groups. The thriving centre of trade and culture,

“To deal with savages, I don’t know how you do it, Jonathan.” Someone rudely interjected.

“Savagery is a matter of perspective. If they know the simple principles of trade, we can profit.”

“Spoken like a true profiteer. I guess that’s why you are the wealthiest man in the room.” Lord Corlis smiled; his words prompted nods of approval from a disturbing majority.

The anti-demihuman sentiment dropped rather quickly after that. With everyone's attention, Stillson enacted the second part of his plan. Everything he had been working for hinged on this moment. Inhaling a quick breath and plastering on a smile, that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Members of the council, I stand before you with a proposal that calls for a radical change in our kingdom's course. It is a proposition rooted in practicality and an eye for the future. As we all are aware, the Empire's ongoing conflict with the Federation threatens not only the stability of our nation but also the very fabric of our society.” He paused, letting those words sink in.

Casting his gaze across the assembled council, he noted several figures nodding. He knew bribes swayed some, but others shared his perspective, making coercion unnecessary.

“I have always been a proponent of pragmatic decisions. Faced with blatant warfare, we find ourselves at a crossroads. It is time for Helgos to take control of our own fate and secure the future for our citizens. I propose Helgos reform itself into a council of state, governed by a body of representatives chosen from our most capable and influential minds. This structure will grant us the autonomy we need to protect our interests. We shall secede from the Empire, free ourselves from the clutches of a larger conflict, and finally focus on our own prosperity.”

His proposition was treason, yet despite those words being uttered in the presence of imperial citizens. Not even one of them frowned or opposed those words. Despite the time, they laboured as a vassal state. None of them forget they were the conquered and freedom was a sweet fruit, just out of sight.

“But a mere council state will not safeguard our realm. We must be prepared to defend our sovereignty. I suggest we use the forces at our disposal, the Mercenary Guild. Their well-trained and discipline along with being quite inexpensive.” His quip conferred a few chuckles from the wealthier in attendance.

Despite nodding heads and an agreeable atmosphere, one person in attendance clearly felt disturbed. Emitting his displeasure, he rose from his seat in protest.

“This is treason!” The noble bellowed. His fury was genuine and no trace of doubt lingered.

The man was a Helgosian noble, once a lowly house. His fortunes rose when the Empire conquered the kingdom. Thus, he became incredibly loyal to the emperor. The man was a minority, yet he still fervently opposed what he saw as treason.

“We are subjects of his imperial majesty! If the war with the Federation has begun, we must devote ourselves to defending imperial land.” He continued extolling the virtues of the Empire and adamantly opposing any notion of seceding.

Clearly, he could not read the room, as most, if not all, in attendance were against the Empire. The council cultivated its members over many years, making sure that anti-imperialists would attain positions of authority. Of course, this plan was not without some flaws. Despite the raging noble, claiming the assembled would feel the emperor’s justice. Stillson remained calm, his gaze firmly fixed to the balcony behind the red-faced man.

“Justice, you say.” A calm voice intoned.

The noble still hopped up on imperial fervour, turned around without thought. This proved foolish as strong, rough hands clutched around his neck. The noble rose in the air and came face to face with a man he didn’t recognise. Of course, everyone in Helgos knew him, commoner and noble alike. That this pro-imperial didn’t was a testament to how out of touch he was.

“There is no justice, except mine.” Leaning close, the face of the Blue Dragon came into focus.

The last thing the noble saw was the bright blue flash in the centre of his maw. The heat vaporised half of the man’s face. Normally, it would cauterise the wound, but in this case, he kept the heat down. The noble's head fell off into a pile of blood and gore. Once the deed was done, the Blue Dragon turned his gaze to the assembled, watching them coldly.

“I think that settles the matter. Next, I would like to propose the formation of a new Guild. We shall call it the Heroic Guild; the Blue Dragon will be its first member.” Segueing to a new topic, Stillson ignored the fearful gazes of the less courage.

Meanwhile, in the wardens’ chambers. The Lord regent of Helgos lay prone and dying on his lavish bed. Clutched in his hands is the Katana he most cherished. Despite the weakness of his body, his will remained strong. Any other man in the same circumstance would completely miss an invisible being.

Unseen to the naked eye was Maligore, the accursed healer. Preparing his tools to heal the man, he didn’t notice the slight twinge of wakefulness. Before he knew it, a Katana was at his neck.

Lord Anthos could not see the intruder, but sensed their general presence. So he placed the weapon at hand, to where the enemy's neck might be.

“Who are you, intruder?” Coughing at a question, his eyes fixed on the space.

The demon chuckled, finding all this amusing. The act seemed, from his perspective, a child waving a stick. Despite that, he did sense power from the mortal. He knew this human could best him. Of course, only if he was healed and at his peak could he win.

"I heal you, my child. Normally, I would ask for payment, but the tab is already paid in full."

“Why would a supposed healer conceal himself from his patient?”

"For the same of your sanity, many have found my visage frightening. So, in my benevolent wisdom, I sometimes seek to spare my patients of any fear."

“Becoming invisible is a poor method, at least.” Rebuking the unseen being, Anthos tensed his muscles.

“Yes, you have a point there. Perhaps it is best to sedate you.”

Before he could react, a wave of fatigue accosted Anthos. His reflexes took over, his arm guiding the Katana to cleave the being's head. A faint clang, like two swords meeting, stopped his Katana.

Maligore, in fact, raised a clawed hand and blocked the weapon. With the strike intercepted, the Lord of Helgos fell into a deep slumber. The demon then caught the weapon and carefully placed it on a stand. He figured that was the weapon's resting place.

Once done, his preparations could now begin in earnest. Performing the same procedure, infusing the patient with demonic energy to counteract the poison. Sighing, the demon found the lack of screaming truly a pity. Despite his entire job being about healing the sick and wounded, he could not deny a fondness for the wails of the dying.

Of course, being a professional, he would never intentionally harm his patient. It was a strange contradiction in his nature. A mixture of professionalism and sadism.

With the procedure complete, he could finally feel the glorious sensation of healing. He was truly a skilled physician, master of his work. Pride swelling in his chest, he almost missed the sounds of footsteps. Abruptly, the door was flung open and soldiers flooded the room. They were not the house guards.

“What an interesting turn of events,” Maligore muttered under his breath.

“Take him.” One of them said two words, and the rest were called into action.

Approaching the slumbering man, it was clear they planned to interrupt Maligores' procedure. As a physician, he couldn't allow this.

“I took an oath to heal the sick and injured. To do no harm and give life when fading.” An invisible figure spoke to the assembled men.

“Who said that?” the leader spoke, his head twisting from side to side.

“If you do not seek to harm my patient and interrupt my procedure. Please vacate this room, doctors' orders.”