Cent. Calendar 11/12/1639, Senate Building, Esthirant, Parpaldia, 10:40
It was yet another typical late morning in the grand city of Esthirant, the gleaming capital of the Parpaldian Empire. However, what wasn’t typical was the dreary downpour descending upon the city; a low-pressure area coming from the southwest was passing through, drenching the southern Philadean coast with slightly more rainfall than usual. Bad weather notwithstanding, life in the city continued and persisted; horse-drawn coaches filled the cobblestone streets that crisscrossed the city while long coat-wearing Parpaldian citizens took to the sidewalks with umbrellas deployed. The shouting of newspaper boys, chirping of constabulary officer whistles, and the clacking sound of hundreds of iron horseshoes dominated the otherwise rain splatter-filled background noise.
Elsewhere in the big city was the Villeurgues district, home to many of Parpaldia’s important facilities, such as the Imperial Mint, the Bank of Parpaldia, and the South Philadean Railway Company (SPRC). Wide open concrete parks and towering stele monuments also characterized the Villeurgues district, complementing its wide four lane streets which were still awash with traffic despite the rain. Another signature feature of the district was that it contained the legislative heart of the empire: the Senate Building. The building was a massive square structure, but it was its southern facade, which faced the main boulevard cutting through the district, that stood out the most with its larger-than-life, realistic statues of former Parpaldian emperors and empresses which adorned the imposing columned walls.
Inside the building, the imperial Senate had gathered in attendance at one of its halls, with senators seated on seats on increasing tiers shaped like a semi-circle–just like an amphitheater. At the very bottom tier were news crews from different media outlets of not just Parpaldia but of other countries as well, gathered with their microphones and cameras of varying technological sophistication and all pointed towards a raised wooden podium facing them. Before long, the sound of idle chatter that had filled the room was interrupted by the loud voice of someone speaking through a megaphone.
“His Majesty, Ludius, Emperor of Parpaldia, will now be speaking!”
The hushes and chatter in the chamber immediately disappeared, replaced by the creaking of cushions and mahogany chairs as senators and visitors alike stood up in response to the announcement. Just as they did so, a figure with a dashing crimson coat and properly gelled hair walked up to the podium, his deathly stare intimidating enough to cause a land dragon to cower was perhaps the single most threatening force in the room to the senators. He stood with a seemingly perfect straight back, notwithstanding the immense weight of being the imperial sovereign he carried on his shoulders. He was none other than Ludius Gallaire, regal name Ludius, Emperor of Parpaldia.
Today was supposed to be a regular Senate meeting, which was usually an endless back and forth from supposedly all-important statesmen representing the interests of the people across the vast continental realm Parpaldia commanded, debating over the great problems that plagued the modern era. However, this was not going to be the case this time; not because the Emperor was in attendance, although that in itself was a unique occurrence, but rather because there was something else that loomed over the empire, casting a shadow greater than any refugee crisis, rampant resource mismanagement problems, or budgetary concerns could ever cast. The shadow was that of Altaras; more specifically, its idiotic, perhaps even insane despot, Taara. Just the other day, he had issued Royal Edict No. 437, an edict that the Parpaldians consider to be an uncalled-for escalation to the ongoing trade war. Eager to respond in kind, the Senate–and by extension, the people–awaited the retaliatory measures the imperial government had in store.
With papers in hand and the microphone waiting for his input, Ludius opened his mouth.
“Venerable senators, representatives of the esteemed citizens of the great empire of Parpaldia! It has come to my attention that calamitous distress is threatening to upturn the peace and order our overlordship over the internationally recognized Third Civilized Region has brought.”
Pausing momentarily to catch his breath, when he next opened his mouth, he unleashed a loud, commanding shout.
“ALTARAS! Their name has become synonymous with all things unpalatable! They are the very grime that silently creeps through the crevices in our order, expanding, festering, dehumanizing, and weakening the strong foundations that have afforded Philades progress, development, enrichment, and glory!”
Even before he ended his last line, claps and shouts of exhilarated agreement with his statement resonated across the chamber.
“In one more daring fit of animosity to the benign forces of the empire, the madman Taara XIV–”
Cutting off Ludius was the spontaneous and unanimous jeering from the senators showing off their immense disapproval of the Altaran sovereign with echoing boos and faces of expressive hostility. Caught off guard by the display of solidarity with his message, Ludius coughed to try and regain the momentum in his speech.
“–the markedly insane despot of that wretched island kingdom has single-handedly proven himself to be the bane of international law and order, unanimously declaring the great empire of Parpaldia–and by extension its honored citizens and peoples–to be his enemies and, now his actions have made clear that he will treat us as such!”
By now, the boos and jeers from the Senate became more coherent in their messages, with no one sparing the expense in showing their disgust.
“Off with him! Let him have a taste of our armies!”
“The tyranny must stop! Altaras must submit!”
“They cannot keep getting away with their belligerence! He needs to be in chains!”
With this background of overwhelming agreement with his statements, he found the support with which to confidently say the succeeding words.
“In response to their unwarranted belligerence on the empire and the peaceful way of life of its citizens, I, with the power vested in me as your emperor, will enact the following economic measures as retaliation!”
Flipping over the set of papers he had laid out on the podium, Ludius began listing the retaliatory economic measures his advisors had drafted and finalized within the last day. The list included the imposition of tariffs on incoming Altaran goods, regardless of the nationality of the trader selling them; the sanctioning of several influential Altaran individuals and barring them from using the continent-wide banking system of Parpaldia; the introduction of new taxes targeting Altaran-owned businesses in the empire, even if they had been naturalized within the past few decades. The centerpiece, the so-called crown jewel of this latest batch of retaliatory measures–perhaps called so because of the sheer audacity of the imperial government in its introduction–is the comprehensive reform on the sale and management of mana-sensitive materials.
“Never before have we considered this due to the magnitude that these measures will have on the empire and the region as a whole–the sale of mana-sensitive materials, especially mana stones mined in our extensive colonies to the north, account for a third of our gross domestic product as per the Finance Department–but if we are to teach the uncivilized fool in Le Brias a lesson, then we will have to show him our unrivaled determination!!!”
Mana-sensitive materials, particularly mana stones, are the lifeblood that powers the many magical civilizations of Asherah. They make possible all sorts of mana-driven processes, from efficient cooling and lighting to industrial-level propulsion and military-grade explosives. The central highlands of Philades is home to the Vatga region, which contains a series of open pit mines in an area that spans thousands of square kilometers. Within the last several centuries, the highlands of Vatga were subject to the expansionist whims of states vying for control over the very life force of civilization itself, but it was the Parpaldians that truly cemented their uncontested overlordship over it in a series of conquests that crushed its northern peers. Their solid, undeniable grip over one of the possibly greatest sources of mana on the planet may possibly even be what led to Mu and the Mirishials considering Parpaldia as the hegemon of its region, eternally to be dubbed the Third Civilized Region due to its growing importance in global affairs. However, in recent decades rampant corruption, mismanagement, and the introduction of liberal economic ideas such as the ‘free market’ within the empire led to the ever-growing lack of imperial control over the monopoly of the mana-sensitive materials in the region. Parpaldia may still be the largest single market for mana stones, but the aforementioned issues led other players, particularly Altaras, to insert themselves into the imperial supply chain.
It was here where the comprehensive reform is hoped to bring about a long-needed reckoning to the system. The most important part of this one measure is the return of much of the mana-sensitive material management back into the hands of the imperial government–in other words, nationalization. Due to the widespread usage of magitech systems dependent on mana-sensitive materials, as well as the fact that a great many countries get their biggest share of mana-sensitive material imports from Parpaldia, this action was bound to earn a lot of diplomatic ire, especially from the mana hungry civilizations of the Central World. But that was no matter, for this was nothing more than a retaliatory measure to the irritable, unreasonable actions of Altaras–in other words, Parpaldia’s hand was merely forced.
“An exact date for the implementation of these measures is still being debated fiercely by the greatest minds in the greatest city of the greatest empire on this continent, but mark my words: Altaras–especially that dolt Taara–will answer for its transgressions!”
Ending his speech on a markedly high note, Ludius maintained his perfect posture and stood proud to a massively elated Senate, which had erupted in applause.
“Amazing! Glory to the empire! Death to its enemies!”
“Parpaldia will be great once more!”
“Long live Parpaldia! Long live the Emperor!”
The imperial banner of crimson red laden with golden land dragons proudly draped behind Emperor Ludius sparkled in the spotlights. Some creases on the glossy cloth appeared as it gently waved in the mild wind permeating throughout the chamber, a splitting image of the start of the groundbreaking effects Ludius’s announcement is about to have on the Third Civilized Region.
Embassy of the Holy Mirishial Empire in Esthirant, 13:15
Located within the vicinity of Proclamation Square and situated in a plot of land sandwiched between two middle-class commercial buildings, the embassy of the Holy Mirishial Empire in Esthirant was in a place that was not befitting of Asherah’s premier great power. To compensate for that, the embassy made clear to passersby the elite status of the Imperials: two magnificent steel statues of the ideal elven man and woman stand proud as the facade of the almost featureless embassy front. Erected in the middle of a well-trimmed garden in front of the crystal clear double glass doors of the embassy was the flagpole that flew the navy blue and gold colors of the divine and imperial homeland of Mirish. The image that the Mirishials wanted to project was that of a proud, powerful, and menacing empire that stood at the top of the world, but beyond the thick walls of the embassy lay an unruly chaos.
The cacophony of telephone rings, heels clacking heavily on the ceramic floor, papers and documents moving about, and the disheveled crisscrossing of dialogue from several embassy personnel answering calls were what greeted the visitor upon entering the building. At the far end of the lobby was a television, still broadcasting in monocolor, around which a group of elves from all walks of life–from a woman who looks like your average housewife to an old man who looks like a retiree from the Navy–huddled to watch a news broadcast from the Imperial Broadcasting Company or IBC.
“...and now we will be hearing live from our correspondent in Esthirant in the Parpaldian Empire, Sundamar.”
A male newscaster in the formal elven white robes was talking in a soothing yet serious voice when his projected video feed was made smaller to accommodate the projected feed of another elf, who was in less formal wear and standing on the cobblestone sidewalk with the belle epoque-ish skyline of Esthirant behind him.
“Thank you for having me today, Elanan!”
“Sure! Now, what can you tell us about the newly announced economic measures by Emperor Ludius?”
“Yes, as announced by His Majesty, the Emperor, in front of the Senate just hours ago, a new round of economic measures are now being considered by the imperial government, presumably in response to the recent royal edict issued by King Taara XIV of Altaras, which was to cut off Parpaldia from its list of buyers in many industries, just days ago. These economic measures included the introduction of tariffs on a long list of Altaran goods, including steel and glass, and sanctions against key Altaran individuals and their exclusion from the Parpaldian banking system.”
“I see. But Sundamar, we have comments from experts on the economy saying that these sanctions are about to have a devastating effect on our economy. None of the measures you mentioned seem to fit the bill, so what do you think are the experts referring to?”
“You see, Elanan, as you may know, our economy is still reeling from the unimaginable Gra Valkan conquest of Leifor, our biggest trading partner in the Mu continent, so it would make sense that these Parpaldian sanctions would be disastrous.”
“I agree with you, but you still haven’t answered my question...”
“Ah, right! One of the measures included in the announcement by Emperor Ludius was a comprehensive reform of their management system for mana-sensitive materials. As it currently stands, with the loss of Leifor, the majority of our mana-sensitive materials now come from Parpaldia. Since they explicitly mentioned that nationalization of foreign components in the supply chain was necessary to do this, this presents a massive risk to the flow of magic into the empire–”
“Wait, wait, wait... Do you mean to say that the Parpaldians are about to take complete control of the mana-sensitive materials trade?”
“You are correct, Elanan.”
A collective, audible gasp emanated from the group of elves huddled around the television as shock ran through each and every one of them. Bewildered and in denial of what they had just heard, they turned to look at one another, but all that greeted them were faces equally as confused as theirs. This cannot be happening, everyone thought. Just then, interrupting their processing of the news, the loud thud of a box of documents falling onto the floor assailed them from behind. The elven civilians turned around, only to find the figure of a sublimely robed elf standing behind them in a frozen pose, his eyes, and mouth wide open as they stared emptily at the television screen.
“Ambassador!!!”
The echoing shout of a woman in office apparel shook the frozen man, finally causing him to twitch before turning his head to where the shout had come from.
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“His Majesty is on the line, and he’s expecting you!”
The prospect of work and the headaches of diplomatic affairs surged into his head like an amnesiac man recovering his memories. Momentarily shaking his head to relieve himself from the shock he had experienced, he then picked up the documents that he was carrying as he replied to his secretary.
“I will be there!”
His name was Revalor, the Mirishial Ambassador to Parpaldia. The documents he carried in his arms were a part of the keys necessary for more than ten thousand Leiforians, who months ago were made stateless by the Gra Valkan annihilation of their home country thousands of leagues away, to become Mirishial citizens. A high-level official like him was not supposed to be doing this sort of leg work, but the city’s constabulary, which had held the Leiforians for months now, demanded that he be the one present during the filing of paperwork.
“Damned Parpaldian constabularies... Damned Gra Valkan warmongers...”
Problems just seem to be continuing to heap one on top of the other for the beleaguered Mirishials. A key player, in a fashion similar to the Gra Valkans, appeared in this region too by the name of Japan, but government efforts to respond to the former and mitigate the economic damage caused by the loss of Leifor distracted them from making contact with the Japanese. Now, there are credible intelligence reports that the Muish, their eternal rivals on the global stage, are already engaging in formal talks with them.
“Oh Mirish Goddess Almighty, how could you let your benign people suffer like this???”
Walking back to his office with the cumbersome documents in hand, Revalor let out a heavy puff of hot air, his eyes on the brink of tears.
The year 1639 on the Central Calendar had been extremely harsh on the Mirishial domain and its supposedly gargantuan sphere of influence and this new information about Parpaldia is the latest in a string of hard blows. Several years ago, at around 1627, the mana-sensitive ground pumping stations all across the Mirishial homeland have, for some baffling reason that to this day they’re yet to understand, stopped producing mana altogether, leading to bad times that year unimaginatively dubbed the Crisis of 1627. The lifeblood of magic civilization on which the entirety of Mirishial society, economy, technology, influence, and the military was built around was now gone, its sudden and abrupt disappearance threatening to undo the very empire itself. In response, the government in Runepolis swiftly ramped up importation, with primary sources coming from Leifor, Magearaik, and the mana stone-rich mines of Vatga in Parpaldia now making up the bulk of mana consumed by the gargantuan magitech-heavy society of Mirishial. After a quick and extreme shock to the economy, everything stabilized, and things appeared to be going forward yet again, but the pumping stations still remained dry. They had hoped that these domestic sources of mana would return since having much of their mana supply chain resting on imports from outside the Central continent was a discomforting geopolitical weakness, but they never did return. And then, the Gra Valkans launched their outrageous invasion of Leifor.
After Leifor’s complete and utter collapse in Aureit (Month 8), the hole left behind by the disappearance of Leiforian imports was quickly filled by Parpaldia-sourced mana stones, but the complete evaporation of one of their biggest trade partners was something that was much harder to come back from. Now, hardly four months since then, the petty geopolitical spat between the equally arrogant bullies of Altaras and Parpaldia had come to a point where the latter was now considering touching the trade of mana-sensitive materials to harm the former. They’ve always used their massive influence to intimidate Parpaldia into not touching the trade, but now with their shape being worse for the wear and distracted with developments in the Mu continent, they were in no condition to actually take this new, alarming issue seriously. At least not with the big, flashy deployment of world-renowned Mirishial warships this far east. Oh, how far has Mirishial fallen...
As Revalor entered his office, the secretary that had called out to him bowed deeply before beelining for the door, but before she could leave, he called out to her.
“Ah, wait! Could you schedule me an appointment with Lady Elto from First Foreign Affairs? Tell her it’s urgent.”
Stressing the word “urgent” was his extra deep voice and a smile that barely kept the murderous aura emanating from his person in check. Notwithstanding, his secretary was unfazed, and she replied to his wishes with a flat face.
“Understood.”
Imperial Palace, 15:00
A clack rings from the saucer as the delicate fingers of a woman gently place her cup of tea into the rim carved out in a perfect fit to accommodate it. It was the only sound that gave a backdrop to the tense atmosphere that had built in this great reception chamber in the Imperial Palace, its lively oil paintings of Parpaldian generals in their honorable conquests and the human-like, realist sculptures of the old gods staring down from their marble pedestals apathetic to the events that play in the present. It was an adequate display of flamboyance, perhaps even arrogant in its undertones, but to Revalor, representative of His Majesty, Uevareth I, emperor of perhaps the greatest of all nations in this world, he displayed not the slightest hint of amusement. But neither did his counterpart, Elto, the woman reserved in her pose and deep blue gown yet sitting at a level plane with her counterpart.
Both sides were under the impression that they had the power in this room and that the other was in their ballcourt. This was how the silence–and the stare-down–played out for the first few minutes or so.
“I say we should not waste our valuable time ogling each other with hostile eyes, Lady Elto.”
Relenting, the Mirishial diplomat spoke. For the first time, in perhaps a generation or so, the talk began on Parpaldian terms. Acting on this surprising show of humility and weakness, the Parpaldian loosened not her shoulders.
“Of course. What brings you to Paradise, your excellency?”
Elto pressed on the advantage she–and by extension her empire–held by subtly reminding the Mirishial where he was: the Imperial Palace–the Palais du Paradis. The astute man caught on, yet he was still unmoved, at least in expression.
“I’ll be frank.”
He put his hands together as he flattened his eyebrows, which was followed by his expression.
“Why has His Majesty decided to touch the trade of mana-sensitive materials?”
“I’m sorry?”
Feigning ignorance, Elto tried to get more out of her position of power by playing with the Mirishial diplomat. Oh, how the powerful have become powerless. Be that as it may, she had overplayed her hand, as shown by the now obvious annoyance on Revalor’s face.
“If I recall correctly, the Emperor only announced that there will be comprehensive reforms on managing mana-sensitive materials within the empire, particularly those coming from the Vatga mines in our extensive northern... territories.”
Elto continued to play with what power she now wielded–and with semantics.
“Ah, but you see, those same mana-sensitive materials, the processes between the mining operations and their oceangoing transports, and all the tiny tidbits along the way affect the global price of such materials and, by extension, the components, machinery, and technologies that rely on them. The situation is already precarious, especially following the... unfortunate loss of our common ally in the Mu continent, the federal empire of Leifor, which was also a major exporter of mana-sensitive materials.”
As Revalor leaned forward to make his point, Elto swung back discreetly as if to sign to him that there was little in his progress of making things clear. To clarify the empire’s position in this debacle, she tilted her head to the side and made an indifferent expression.
“And?”
Inwardly, the Mirishial seethed. How the hell could she–and by extension, her blasted wannabe hegemon of a country–be treating him, the esteemed diplomat of the head of the First Civilized Region, like a lowly barbarian?! Could they actually be so arrogant that they would go and try to control the global price of mana-sensitive materials, the lifeblood of magic civilization everywhere, and get the Holy Mirishial Empire to bend?! Out of options, he sets into motion what His Majesty and his superiors had told him over the phone a while ago–something which he hoped he would not need to resort to.
“That would lead to a worldwide crisis of proportions the divine empire cannot ignore. Your hubristic actions have earned the disappointment of His Majesty, Uevareth I, and he has made a direct call for your empire to make good on our mutual understanding over the independence of the mana-sensitive material trade from direct intervention.”
She tilted her head to the side once more, but this time in genuine confusion.
“‘Mutual understanding over...’ what? Your excellency, we have not agreed on such understandings, not on paper nor by mouth; we have not violated anything you accuse us of violating.”
Shrugging at Elto’s placid reply, Revalor made it known that he was starting to shake off the shreds of diplomatic formality. Personally speaking, he was utterly done with these Parpaldians. Perhaps a reassignment somewhere else more accommodating like Agartha, he momentarily considered.
“Then, in good faith, will your government reconsider the reforms you have announced? Perhaps, as a personal suggestion, your government should consider the responsibility they hold as a major exporter of mana-sensitive materials and how dire the consequences lay in the path ahead for you.”
In spite of how inoffensive the reply she received sounds to be, Elto felt insulted. If anything, it was the presence of foreign intervention seeding the corruption in the management that was ruining the empire’s chances of true prosperity. In her eyes, the emperor, Ludius, was doing everything right and just.
“Might I remind you, your excellency, that this decision is the word of His Majesty, Ludius, and that his word is in the interests of the empire and its people. We do not answer to you. As a personal suggestion of my own: take your little pissy attitude and go ask the Altarans across the pond and convince them to stop their belligerent attacks at your ‘already precarious situation.’”
Only three words echoed in Revalor’s mind at this reply: that’s it. Without even uttering a grunt or a vaguely audible expletive hidden underneath a sigh, he got up from his seat, turned around, dismissed the Parpaldian imperial guard at the door and opened it himself, and left the chamber. For the first time in generations, the relations between the Holy Mirishial Empire and the Parpaldian Empire have reached an all-time low.
Cent. Calendar 12/12/1639, Royal Castle, Le Brias, Altaras, 10:55
On this side of the great Altaras Strait that separates the continental Third Civilized Region and the island of Altaras, Sios, and the Rodenius continent, dry wind was blowing. The tropical depression of two days ago had gone past, but in its temporary visit, it ravaged the subtropical forests along the northern lowlands and the mighty metropolis of the capital Le Brias, leaving in its wake clear skies that could only be interpreted with good omens. Yet the omens were, just like the storm, fleeting, and the dry wind carried not the smell of salt and the cries of seabirds; instead, it carried the cries of angry merchant folk and citizens and the smell of burning wood and iron, not because they cry of poor disaster relief but rather of radical change.
“Death to Parpaldia and Ludius!”
“We give no quarter to imperialists and thieves!”
“To hell with the Parpaldians! To hell with their reforms!”
Already the price of mana stones, the essential material craved by ever-hungry magic civilizations, had risen. The economic ministers of the kingdom and the financiers and bankers that make up the central bank have already introduced measures to try and curb the rising prices, but their men and women in the constabulary fared worse with the rioters.
Standing at the grand balcony connected to his quarters, the head of state–and by de facto the government too–King Taara XIV placed his restless hands on the hardened clay balustrade. He closed his eyes in an attempt to shut out the overwhelming load of sensitivities coming from all sorts of directions, but the cries of his people mercilessly cut deeply at his spirit–and his patience. At the tail end of a long series of breathing exercises, the high-pitched voice of a maid hacked at his eardrums.
“Your Majesty! You have a visitor!”
Turning to look at her modest black gown and white frills, the crossed position of her extended arms indicated a message only understood within the Altaran royal court, to which Taara promptly responded by following her to the throne room. After making their way through the maze-like layout of twisting corridors and fake turns and rooms, a labyrinth only the royal court and the distinguished Royal Guard have memorized by heart, they arrive at the long, spacious hall of glasses that was the throne room. There, at the foot of the steps leading up to the golden throne of the Altaran kings, was an elven woman with flowing golden locks and wearing an equally long dress seemingly made out of silver that glinted in the morning sun. There was only one nation that would have its diplomats wear clothes of such modest yet extravagantly minimalist nature.
“Ah! Why if it isn’t my dear Ryllae!”
In true Taara fashion, he disposed of formal diplomatic etiquette in his greeting with Ryllae. As the ambassador of the Holy Mirishial Empire to Altaras, she knew the importance of keeping appearances in high-level talks with the leaders of partner nations. But she also knew of Taara’s spontaneous attitude, so she at least put on a welcoming smile for the king.
“Your Majesty! It has been a while, hasn’t it?”
Ryllae replied as Taara closed the distance, eventually making contact by giving her a healthy, friendly pat on the shoulder. Whether or not this was a show of power by the Altaran king was anyone’s guess–including Taara’s–but the Mirishial diplomat knew better than to make it obvious that this was a breach of etiquette.
“Too long, my dear... Now, what is a woman of your caliber doing here?”
Mentally discarding the king’s flattering statement, she kept her smile in place, even as the words she was about to say delved into serious matters.
“I’m sure you are well aware of the Parpaldian decisions announced by Emperor Ludius yesterday?”
Taara’s bright face turned dark in an instant; the vibrance–whether real or not–had all but evaporated from his eyes at the mention. Even his response showed hints of hostility.
“What of it?”
Taking a deep breath, the Mirishial diplomat clapped her hands in an effort to dispel any hesitations and doubts about what she was about to say, for beyond was a future that even she herself knew was unavoidable.
“Well... I’m here to extend to you, the King of Altaras, the situation in the imperial court back in Mirishial. His Majesty, Uevareth I, has personally called on me to impart to you what he is in the mood for. He is currently willing to see the status quo, which has unfortunately turned for the worse due to certain irresponsible actors and their actions, returned to the way it was–by any means, if necessary.”
Taara’s eyes widened as brightness returned to them, but they were not the kind of brightness that was present just minutes ago. No, they were the brightness of a raging fire of vengeance. The message conveyed by Uevareth I through Ambassador Ryllae was–in spite of the vague and indirect language used–crystal clear. Tired of the tiresome balancing act it had played for decades in the region, the end result of which was their efforts being thrown into the metaphorical dirt by circumstances they could never have control over, the Holy Mirishial Empire was finally deciding to do something substantial, even if it was underhanded and taking place behind the curtain of current events. Against its will, it had been driven to this state of hedging its bets on one of the belligerents of this brewing cross-strait crisis, especially now that the other had refused to cooperate.
A smile appeared on Taara’s face, a replacement for a different kind of smile that would have shown his true colors. He picked his next words carefully so as to play his own hand under the cover of the thin veil of plausible deniability.
“I... acknowledge that His Majesty has such a relatable mood.”
Satisfied with the king’s concise yet straightforward response, Ryllae was more than ready to make herself scarce. After all, the king had so much to attend to, she assumed.
“Thank you for your acknowledgement, your majesty. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
“But of course!”
After a brief yet substantial exchange of farewells, the Mirishial diplomat went on her way. Once the loud thud of the massive, heavy wooden doors to the throne room echoed all the way to his ears, Taara promptly set out to work. The Mirishials had given him this blank check, and he was going to use every single imaginable digit he could possibly get out of it.
“Matuk! Come here!”
He directed his shout towards one of the entranceways that lead into the throne room from behind the throne and the national banner that hung behind it. Not a moment had passed before a man dressed in a green uniform decorated with all sorts of colored medals and wearing tall, red headwear that looked like a bork hat stepped out of the shadows and into the sights of the king. The man, Matuk, then saluted, the embroidered patterns on his shoulders indicating that he was of the highest rank of the Altaran Royal Guard–their commanding officer.
“I have a request to make of you.”
“What is it, my King?”
These silent hushes in the largest hall in the entirety of the kingdom of Altaras are what would set in motion the future Ryllae and others had anticipated.
Cent. Calendar 13/12/1639, port of Le Brias, Altaras, 14:35
“Justice for poor Altarans!”
“We are done being stomped upon!”
“Misfortune befalls the evil empire!”
Protests at the bustling port of Le Brias continue into their second day. The cries of hundreds of disparate merchants and citizens hit hardest by the rise in prices of mana stones coming from all sorts of countries make their demands known, whether by shouts or the clamoring of their pitchforks. Today, it was not the foghorns of steamships and bells from sail ships brimming with goods as they come and go that dominated the soundtrack. It was the anger of the people. As the hordes of protesters continued to be joined by more and more disenfranchised low-income folk, they passed through the Barezan granary and mill, an industrial complex handling agricultural goods located in the port area. The recent edict issued by the king had also disturbed food prices, but not to the level seen by mana stones. At that very moment, when the frustrated chants of the protesters seemed to reach their crescendo, they were all easily drowned out...
KABLAM!!!
Out of nowhere, one of the towering mills next to the cobblestone roads through which the protesters were walking appeared to combust into flames before turning into rubble. They followed a gigantic conflagration that reached high into the heavens like a phoenix being reborn, the shockwave of the blast shattering the brick walls of the mills next to it like glass and forcing their own grain innards to spontaneously combust too. The series of explosions completely destroyed the mills, but if the blast and fire weren’t the ones to befall the bystanders and protesters nearby, then it was going to be the debris falling like meteors.
“Eeek!”
“Look out!”
“Run!”
Thousands upon thousands of bricks and heavy structural materials rained all across the vicinity, turning whatever was unfortunate to be in their way–people, stray animals, goods, structures, everything–into all sorts of unrecognizable particulate matter. Those nearby that weren’t crushed were subject to all sorts of bodily pain from the sheer force of the blast wave, a plethora of suffering that ranged from destroyed eardrums and internal bleeding to concussions from being thrown off their feet.
The resounding boom emanating from the explosions rocked the very foundations of Le Brias, but these were nothing more than ripple effects on their own; in time, they would set off a wave and later a tsunami poised to disturb the already delicate balance of power in the region. Still, they were the defining alarm bells to wake up any who had not yet realized the reality that they were actually in, for a future without the status quo of yesterday had been violently set in stone.