Starry night overhead, the twinkling luminescence of stars looking down on a gathering of the nobles of Orroyel, and beyond them all of Norapt, and beyond them all of Royeleo. Words that would shake the world.

One man on a platform of stone, white marble quarried from the bones of the earth and brought here- the pillars of heaven so far above, the darkness beneath the stars and what was beyond that darkness. Laeo didn’t hope to imagine- he didn’t hope. Holy Nolabo, successor to the Empire of Nolabo, once strong…

He watched the scarlet war-banners of Orroyel, the black fluttering flags that waved out over the whole of the palace and the whole of Norapt, a pall of smokey cloth flying in a breeze above the cities of time.

Before the whole of the world he saw. The steps of an emperor as he slowly ascended the throne, a sad cast to his eyes that made him seem just more… human, and through it, beyond human. Elevated above the rest of the crowd by a dias of stone and the force of his station, he was supposed to be something beyond mortal-

Laeo didn’t see that. He’d seen the things beyond the reach of mortality and they were infinitely darker, infinitely more powerful than any Orroyel emperor would ever be able to emulate. Stepping, forward, the emperor took his place at the dias in the full regalia of rank, the weight of Orroyel history making itself obvious over the gathering. Just another way, another weapon that the state of Orroyel wielded against its enemies.

There was one enemy today, one that Laeo feared but knew must happen. The course of all things would be decided off this- he looked around, noticing the distinct lack of the ambassador’s presence.

Nascet battles, the pain of nations that clashed and the people who would, inevitably, taste the blood. “People of Orroyel!” It was a piercing voice, and as that voice spoke everything stilled. “Long have we stood. One of the greatest among the great, the first and most powerful empire to walk the earth.” Not strictly speaking true, but they were among them. An unbroken line of history that extended back so far.

The weight of history, leveraged against a single target, the same people that so long ago the Orroyelans had usurped from their throne in Norapt when it hadn’t even been called Norpat. Thousands of years.

The original enemy. Beyond the Sakaxhy which had enslaved them and mad3e them into who they were today, these were the original foes. The ideological distinctions, every cast of their conflict, it echoed from history that was so old as to no longer be relevant. It wasn't, really, but the emperor wove his speech around it anyways, cast in gentle fire’s light and made so obviously apparent, the whisper of wind and the force of stars above. Looking, somewhere beyond the sky, the things that were and the origins of Polarity Light, from something that was more than being.

Beyond the Horizon and hovering above the world with so much power, such influence as to reach across the globe without moving at all and command war without meaning to the orange eyes that were not eyes and- Laeo looked. Out, toward the emperor as he drew the ever-famous Sword of Dawns, that gleaming metal blade which had been the centerpiece of the Orroyelan empire for so long.

Whoever held that sword, as the legends said, was the undisputed ruler of Orroyel. It was, obviously, just a sword- even if it was a sword made of god’s very flesh, the metal that was half glass and yet not, it was still a sword.

Yet, like any weapon, it was set against- the sharpness of its blade wielded with perfect efficiency toward those who would do Orroyel harm. Or at least those who were perceived to do them harm. The emperor concluded his speech and in that moment of silence, that moment of emphasis where everyone in the world itself held its breath Laeo closed his eyes, shut out the stars. Shut out the gentle glow of a Norapt at night.

Then, the words, the very words he’d worked toward so hard and the words he’d feared with such vehement fear, the death of something great. Murder, reaching across cerulean seas and the breadth of skies, deep- blue waters, words… “May the strength of empire prevail.” The words were spoken almost softly compared to the rest of the speech, but then, the harsh ones. Strident, the words that shook the world with their force. “Orroyel marches to war!”

The cheering drowned out all other noise, a roar like fire, as cannons… the world would burn, but it would not burn…

………..

Laeo stumbled through the hallways, feeling a bit sick. He’d plead illness to escape to celebration, the pomp and the parades and all the little things nations did to prepare them for the brutality that was war and would always be war. Dawn gleamed sharply on the horizon, a gentle golden glow that illuminated the hallway through massive windows of carefully wrought glass.

It was a beautiful thing really, the hallway, crafted to perfection so far from where any fighting would actually be happening. THere were plenty of beautiful hallways in Nolabo, beautiful glass windows like these.

He could almost imagine, the power of armies as they swept across the many islands of Nolabo, the green jewels that rose from the wave and were the home to untold millions. He could almost imagine… the force of cannons. The strength of arms as men poured onto beaches with fire in their minds, at least-

Not above the world. At least it wasn’t above the world. He slouched down into a sitting position against the far wall and gazed out through the window, across the city of Norapt framed, a silhouette so dark against the brilliance of sun’s morning light. The whole ocean glowed with a fiery brightness that just… was.

Footsteps. He didn’t look up- there would be any number of nobles stumbling around, stuffing the after effects of too long spent drinking or too much time spent awake. He’d give away nothing, and for the moment he just wanted to be silent. No more warmongering. No more- death, that constant specter that he remembered from som many missions, from Laytaihishu as he’d driven that jagged shard-

“Laeo.” It was a soft voice, but one that he recognized. Paquel. She knelt beside him and looked him in the eyes, but it wasn’t with something so petty as concern. Those eyes were pools of darkness, forces that would not be reckoned with. “So you’ve held up your end of the bargain. What do you want from me?” It was almost… strange, the way she said it. Such care for a normally cold woman.

“As… as far as I can tell, you’ve already done everything I’ve asked for. You really saved me there.” He thought of an expansive hall of black and white marble and red banners, the will of the emperor over him and the role Paquel had played to keep him safe. She was something incredible- the essence of politics at its finest.

She reminded him, in a faint way, of himself. Paquel squinted, with confusion or suspicion he couldn’t tell, before helping him to his feet and walking down the hall to his rooms. They stepped into those chambers, nothing fine by the standards of the Orroyelan court but still beautiful, hand wrought wooden chairs and all the affordances made for a guest. “I looked into you.”

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Words, strong. Strident, their very sound something that echoed deep within. Laeo met her eyes with his own, imagining that blaze, white brilliance that wasn’t his, but in some ways was. “And what did you find?” He didn’t want to know-

He didn't want to kill her.

Paquel tried to step closer to him, but he held himself back. Just as it had been on that first day in her rooms, a degree of separation enforced- “You’re not Sakaxhy. I’ve looked far and wide for a Sakaxhy nobleman named Laeo… but you’re not Sakaxhy.”

“I’m of Nola descent.” Believe it, he willed her so silently. Believe me and walk away alive… idle thoughts. He drew a knife from its sheath on its side, gently pushing that part of it which would make it so much more. It would cut through anything, now, even the bonds- “Most of the Sakaxhy nobility are.”

“I found a Laeo, however.” She’d drawn a knife of her own, thin and powerful, and Laeo didn’t doubt she knew how to use it. Her gamble was that she’d be able to use it better than him, not that it’d work at all… poor woman. He felt the beginnings of tears gathering in his eyes as she spoke. “You were there. The very Nola agent to bring about the fall of Laytaihishu.” Her eyes widened as he slowly nodded, as if she hadn’t truly expected that to be the truth. “Why? Why did you turn against your own nation.”

“The will of God supersedes all things. I will protect humanity, he stepped forward and swung his knife, and Paquel neatly sidestepped, bringing hers up to block.

It didn’t block- rather, Laeo’s knife sliced cleanly through, leaving only the hilt and an inch of blade in Paquel’s hands. She gaped, eyes fearful for the first time since she’d confronted him. “Who are you?” She wasn’t asking who… She was asking- afraid-

“I am the will of the Lord of Cold Places. Why are you upset? You’ll win this war.” A tear ran down his cheek, unbidden, but unavoidable, glistening with- power. He leveled the knife at Paquel, who immediately dropped her own and began to back up… she was smart. Her knife was nothing, and she understood that.

Laeo struck.

It was a quick move, all the power of someone who’d spent so long training, going through the very essence of conflict for a moment like this, a moment that was life or death deep within the power of the enemy, where every second mattered and he was the storm-

A single, graceful strike as he whispered, just loud enough for Paquel to hear. “The Eternity Falling will remember this. Arctic will remember this and he will not destroy you for it-” He struck, but something pulled him upshort. Something beyond the physical.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t make another companion, and leave them, destroy them like he’d tried to destroy Siqxhe. He wouldn’t do it. The knife cut into Paquel’s arm, causing her to stifle a gasp and go rigidly still, deep lines of red that didn’t bleed out because every bit of blood that came within the blade’s aura was destroyed as if it’d never been there in the first place. “Will you speak of this to anyone?”

Paquel nodded her head slowly, and this time Laeo believed her. Had to believe her, and she had to believe him. An exercise in trust- “I won’t speak a word of this to anyone. This war must happen… for my own benefit, at least.” She stood and executed a neat bow, but it was filled with something else now. A fear, a neatness that hadn’t been there before. “You brought power. The least I can do in return is leave you to peace.” Bluster. She knew that she could have died there, that in any logical world she should have died.

Still, Laeo collapsed with relief in a room rent into disorder, relieved that she hadn’t.

………

Verdancy, the greenery of what was there. Gentle blooms and the power of what was there, vines that crept up carefully tended walls. Green satin, silk and all the opulence of court, presented in just… subtler ways. It almost felt Nola in how subdued the decor was, and that spoke of a man who wasn’t afraid to have his tastes show.

He sat in a plain chair, looking out with a dark gaze towards the horizon. This was a man of conscience, but also a man that was beyond conscience through the will of empire. A man that looked out with dark eyes as his fleets massed on the border-seas of Norapt, but also a man who massed fleets on the borders of Norapt. “So. They actually did attack us.”

“The Nola hunger for Orroyel. It is a holy land.” That was truth, if only faintly. The Nola didn’t really desire Royeleo anymore, not now that their lands were equally holy beneath the fickle eyes of god.

God was not fickle. It defied everything that he’d ever known, but it was true- he’d seen it, the extension of an immovable will that was artic. Ancient conflict, and the war with Nolabo was only the most modern extension of that conflict. Only a single leaf on such a long tree… “I’ve overstayed my leave here.” Both to the emperor, and his hospitality in inviting him to his personal chambers. Then, more so. “I’ll be leaving for Xhyolok soon. They’ll want me back.” The emperor nodded faintly, almost regretful. He didn’t want to lose another good advisor like he’d lost the ambassador.

He revealed, just for the briefest of moments, that he was in a position so close to a head of state, in such depth of confidence that he could influence the very fate of the world if he so wished. He turned away, covering a frown as he walked out of the door and down a long, shadowy corridor- he already had. Orroyel marched to war, and in that war was the beginning of an ended Nolabo.

He ducked into a dark shadow, a place where someone had forgotten to light a lantern, where the hallway itself bled off into a distance that felt adjacent to eternity. Patterned wallpaper became inscrutable squiggles and lines of horrifying darkness.

A brightness. So faint but there. Laeo knew that brightness was purposeful. Curated enough just so that he’d be visible but so low that anyone stumbling past would be unable to see him at all. They forced on him with a perfect clarity, as if they could see him despite the darkness and he nodded a polite greeting. “Polarity Arctic.” The Lord of Cold Places, and in this moment he felt that chill…

“Laeo.” A voice through time, cold and sibilant, so powerful… Laeo tried not to shiver as he spoke. This was someone who could destroy fleets. This was someone who could destroy worlds. “I’ve done as you requested. Orroyel marches to war against Nolabo. What now?”

“Now we just need to do something that will draw Siqxhe back.” Home. To those fearful green lies he’d subjected to the horrors of war so much more than they’d originally been forced to. He’d put both the Sakaxhy and the Orroyelans on them, and there were no more. No more great empires to attack them.

He’d set the entirety of the world against Nolabo.

Arctic’s eyes gleamed. “That will be easy, I presume? Just a few forged documents, a few orders sent to places they should not go. Falsehoods.” He seemed almost delighted with the possibility, and Laeo nodded. “It will be done. How long will you need.”

“No more than a week or two.” Ends came, to everything… he thought of Nolabo's greatness, thousands of years of history all started with Orroyel, and now ended with Orroyel. He thought of Paquel, and how little she actually knew.

He saw the darkness, and in it the burning eyes of the sibilant. Who was he to doubt the very will of God. A ship larger than anything of wood, the power to destroy… Polarity Light would be found. The Eternity Falling would be reborn in the fullness of its power, and it would be able to reunite with what lurked beyond the stars.

He stalked off through the hallways of the palace in Norapt, a country sacrificed, but so clear yet- in the moments beneath the shadows he remembered when he’d been loyal to that country.

Things end, and shattered, he prowled toward the moments he’d send the Orroyel to Nolabo. He knew-

There was no right, a mantra whispered to himself as he stalked back to his room and its carefully curated brightness, the pile of fine sand left adrift on the table where he’d left it. The scattered blood of mountains as they’d been ground down…

Looking into the abyss of gentle light and the sails on the horizon, he repeated to himself- there was no wrong.