Palushians are considered to be fiercely independent warrior tribes by the empire. They are a race of bunny people who possess incredible martial strength and agility, and they live in what the empire now calls ‘Palushtag’, meaning ‘Palushian lands’. The place has nothing of note besides vast swathes of dry plains, thus the empire has no interest in interfering in the affairs of the warrior clans, only having established two cities in the entire province.
Hali, a young warrior in training, aimed his great bow at an ox grazing on the dry grassland. He was hidden in the rocky terrain, his fur blending seamlessly with the shadows cast by the setting sun. His large ears twitched, picking up the faintest sounds as he focused on his target. The ox, oblivious to the danger, continued to graze peacefully.
Hali’s muscles tensed as he prepared to release the arrow. His training had been rigorous, and he prided himself on his accuracy. Just as he was about to let the arrow fly, a sudden movement caught his eye. He shifted his aim slightly and saw a small, strange bird fluttering nearby. Distracted, he missed his perfect shot. The arrow flew wide, startling the ox, which bolted away with surprising speed.
“Damn it,” Hali muttered under his breath, lowering his bow. He scanned the area, hoping to find another target, but the plains were empty. Frustrated, he climbed down from his vantage point and made his way back to his village. Today’s hunt is another failure. He would definitely be made fun of again by his friends.
As he was about to turn his back, he heard a hiss from behind him. His arrow seemed to have hit something. Curiosity piqued, he turned and carefully made his way toward the sound. Pushing aside some dry brush, he saw the arrow lodged in the ground, dark liquid bubbling up around it.
"What is this?" Hali wondered aloud. He knelt down, examining the strange substance. It was thick, black, and had a strong, pungent odor. He dipped his fingers into the liquid and sniffed it, wrinkling his nose in disgust.
“Eww.” He pulled out the arrow, only for the stream of black liquid to continue streaming until it began to pool on the ground. Hali watched in fascination and bewilderment as the dark substance kept flowing.
Disgusted yet curious, he felt the need to tell the elders about this. He quickly looked around for something to contain the liquid. Finding nothing suitable, he took off his small leather water pouch, emptied it, and used it to collect some of the substance. The liquid was warm and heavy, unlike anything he had encountered before.
As he secured the pouch, he thought, perhaps the warrior-Queen knows of this liquid? For now, he would return.
Just then, he noticed a solitary ox grazing in the periphery of his vision. The hunter in him hesitated—returning empty-handed was never ideal. But the day was still young, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to stay.
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There was a stark contrast between Valrya, the Imperial capital, and Alyrus, the capital of the Alaryc province, that Ries only fully realized when she woke up the next morning. Unlike the heavily industrialized Valrya, where the air was thick with gray smog, Alyrus felt almost pastoral in its simplicity. The modest level of urbanization meant fewer factories, fewer machines, and consequently, much cleaner air. Cobble roads, no automobiles, and no sign of modernization besides electricity.
Of course, she knows that this city and this province is the capital of the empire’s agricultural export. She read from the document about how nearly 70% of the empire’s food supply is produced here. Things like wheat, barley, fruits, vegetables, and all sorts of foodstuffs are produced here.
The city is also very human dominated. In her time walking around the city, she had not seen a single demihuman. It was possible that they were disguised, or perhaps this place simply did not attract demihuman visitors.
Earlier that day, Governor Fede Unteryl’s messenger had arrived to inform her of an appointment at the Alyrus Royal Golf Club. The name suggested an air of exclusivity and wealth, a place where the province’s elite gathered. She could only guess it was where the province’s elites often gathered.
When she arrived at the golf club, she was ushered in and led through lavishly decorated halls, out onto the wide green fields that seemed to exist solely for the recreation of the privileged few. For a province dedicated mostly to farming, this place seemed a bit excessive.
She was guided for some time onto the green fields where she eventually met the governor who was just finishing a swing, sending a golf ball soaring through the air. The governor raised his hand over his eyes to see where the ball went before turning to her.
“Deputy minister. Come. join me.” He grabs another golf club from his bag and offers it to her.
“Governor, I appreciate the invitation, but I’ve never played golf in my life.”
“No matter, just take it. We don’t have to be formal all the time,” He dismisses her and hands her a glove. “Might as well pick up a new hobby for your status.”
Ries accepted the club and glove, slipping the glove onto her hand. She felt out of place but decided to go along with the governor's casual demeanor. "Alright, Governor. I'll give it a try."
He guided her to the tee and showed her how to stand and hold the club. "Now then, go on." He rested his arms on his golf club.
Ries took a deep breath, positioned herself, and swung the club. The ball barely lifted off the ground, instead of a straight shot, it shot off the side and rolling a short distance away. The dirt below was also damaged and unearth.
"Looks like a hole-in-one. I can’t see where it went," the governor smirks. “I have to admit, it is my first time seeing a demihuman, a beastmen, willingly work for the empire.”
“Well, ‘willingly’ isn’t the right way to put it…” Ries winced, “Well that’s good, isn’t it? It means we’re making progress towards cooperation?”
“Progress, indeed. I’ve seen a lot of demihumans in my time; many rarely come out of their tribes. But you’re different, I suppose,” he said, grabbing another ball and placing it on the tee. “Then again, I’m skeptical of them in the first place.”
Ries watched as the governor lined up another shot and effortlessly sent another ball flying into the air.
“Governor, about last night,” She began. “I was expecting the Duke, and I’m sure he is also expecting me. Why deny me meeting with him, then?”
The governor spares her a sideways glance before returning to line up a shot, “If my sources do not fail me, you are sent by Eden, that minister, to secure support for his motion, am I not correct?”
Ries stiffened slightly, taken aback by the governor's bluntness. “Yes, that is correct.”
The governor swung the club, sending the ball sailing through the air. He straightened up, turning to face her and rested his hands on the club. “Well then let me be direct to you, I’ve done your work.”
“Done my work?” She raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve told the Duke about your minister’s plan, he said he agreed to it. Along with any noble aligned with him in the central provinces, or so he said”
“Wait, how did you know about the—”
“The motion about condemning the empress and to reinstate the premiership? It’s impossible to keep it tight lipped since he spread it around the nobility,” the governor waves dismissively. “If I know, the empress knows. And if the empress knows, well I don’t know how she’ll retaliate.”
“You think she’ll retaliate?”
“Oh yes. It’s her powers and authority being fringed upon,” he nodded. “Legally, it’s not a breach of law, which itself states that the monarch is the law incarnate. You, of all people, should know.”
“Won’t that complicate things?” Ries thought aloud. She always assumed that Eden would keep it a secret while he gathered allies, but it seems like he’s very confident about it being in the open. A threat to the throne, perhaps? If the nobility did truly unite to hypothetically overthrew the Empress...
“I see you’re starting to see the bigger picture,” the governor seems amused by her, he stores way his club and crosses his arms. “That’s good, you’d better start thinking like that more often. But yes, the empress is ruthless, I don’t need to give an example except for where her brothers have gone.”
“But what does the minister hope to achieve by making it public? Surely it’d be better to move in secret while he gather allies?”
“Provocation or pressure, who’s to say?” He shrugs. “Eden’s playing a dangerous game, and I’ve known him long enough to say he’s crazy enough to do what he intends to do. Perhaps he believes that a show of strength and unity among the nobility will force the Empress to negotiate or, at the very least, reconsider her stance.”
“If she won’t budge?” She questioned.
He smirked. “Therein lies the beauty of politics, my dear Katzen. It’s a game of chess, with every piece moving towards the endgame. Eden’s gambit is that the threat alone will force the Empress to concede some power without actual bloodshed.”
Ries shuffled uncomfortably, definitely didn’t like the sound of that. “And where do you fit in all this? Wait, how do you know I’m a Katzen?”
The governor spares her a glance. “Katzens have predominantly black hair than their other fellow feline beastmen, no?” He paused, “if Eden’s plan succeeds, the balance of power shifts, and I intend to be in the winning side.”
“And if it fails?”
“I’ve learned over the years to adapt. I’ve positioned myself well enough I can adapt to whichever the wind blows.”
“I see. I suppose you have a good reason to ally with the minister?”
“Ally? A strange word indeed,” he rubs his chin. “He and I were rivals for most of our lives. In fact, he stole the position of Minister of Home Affairs from me. my only advice to you is this. Don’t be fooled by ‘Eden’.”
Ries frowned. “You mean to say I shouldn’t trust him?”
“Ah, trust is a rare commodity in our world, even more so in politics. Never give your trust to someone and never trust anyone. Right now, Eden is playing his own game, better to not poke the dragon, as we say around these parts,” He chuckled. “But, going back to your question, I am doing this merely because it’s a better choice for my survival.”
Ries felt tired already, even though it was still morning. She was more used to direct forms of power plays, where physical prowess determined the outcome, and where the strongest warriors leads and commands.
The way these humans do it is more complicated than she imagined. Exhausting to keep track of.
“So you’re saying survival is your only motive?” If she wants to survive and not get found out, she has to learn and as the governor said, adapt.
“Isn’t it?” The governor replied, “in politics, survival often means power. The longer you survive, the more power you gain, and thus power is the ultimate goal of politics.” He holds up three fingers. “There are three rules to power. This is my last advice to you.”
“First,” he began, lowering one finger. “Lie. Never tell the truth if possible, and dodge if questioned.”
He lowered a second finger. “Second, alliances are temporary. Everyone has their own agenda, never rely solely on others or else you’ll become a foot soldier in someone’s game.”
Finally, he lowered the third finger. “Third, control the narrative. Information is power. The one who controls what others know, or think they know, holds the upper hand.”
Ries nodded along as the governor explained away. He seems genuine in giving advice, “If that’s the case, why tell me these things? Assuming from what you’ve said, you’re not giving this advice out of the goodness of your heart.”
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“Well, let’s just say I don’t want you to succumb, yet. The game has only begun, and we’ll meet more often than you might’ve think.” He grabs a new club from the bag and practices swinging it around, “the assembly hasn’t gathered in so long, after all. Now, shall we continue this game? I believe it’s your turn to swing.”
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The Katzen tribe is a tribe of feline beastmen who prides in their pure physical martial prowess. Each newborn is expected to learn how to fight bare-handed by the age of 5. Their raw magical power makes them strong enough to tear thick trees in half, people in half, and put a dent in the earth. Even the empire knows to be cautious with them.
Yet, despite this, one of them is currently poring over pages of documents that turned out useless in the end. The information written in them are dense, but very detailed. After playing golf with the governor for some hours, she decided to go to the local adventurer’s guild tavern to gather her thoughts. It’s nice to be in a familiar environment.
Previously, she was avoided because she was a beastmen. Now she was avoided because people are afraid of the suited maniac with the paper covering the table. Not like she had any problems with it, she was always content to being alone.
Possibly feeling motivated by the governor, Ries engrossed herself willingly in the documents Eden provided. Though it may not have any use anymore, it is still a perfect method to learn more about the inner workings of the empire.
She also bought a book from the local library about the history of the empire. It’s much easier to read unlike the documents.
In short, the empire is a colossal hive mind of a bureaucracy. Layers upon layers of local departments all the way to the national ones employing hundreds of thousands of officials making sure everything ran smoothly, it was staggering. The Home Affairs ministry for example was responsible for more than twenty departments alone!
Ries rubbed her eyes, noticing that she had left her drink untouched since it was served. The tavern buzzed with activity. Adventurers exchanged tales of their exploits, bards played cheerful tunes, and the occasional clink of coins could be heard over the chatter. Laughter and merriment filled the air, but Ries felt no inclination to join in. It was still the afternoon, and her mind was occupied with far more pressing matters.
Technically, her job was over. She could return to the capital and be done with it. However, she used this time to think about how she’s going about changing her identity officially. In of itself is a difficult task to do in the first place. Even more so difficult because the empire keeps everything recorded, stored, and processed.
She needed to find out what happened to Anise. Unlikely for now in the situation she finds herself in.
As she mulled it over, a voice interrupted her thoughts. “Madam deputy minister?”
Ries looked up to see a lanky, tired-looking boy with a large bag at his side. He wore the uniform of the Imperial Postal Authority and was holding out a letter.
“Delivery for you,” he said, handing her the envelope.
Ries took the letter and nodded her thanks. The boy gave a quick salute before hurrying off to his next delivery. She examined the envelope, noting the official seal of the Home Affairs. Breaking it open, she read the contents quickly. Narrowed her eyes. And groaned helplessly. It was another order.
She dislikes being the receiving end of such orders, especially from not of her own kind. But what can she do?
Minister Eden wants her to go to a town called Ny Dessechey, New Desseche in western spelling, in the province of Palushtag. It’s shorter than from Valyra to Alyrus, just a mere 13 hours by train. What’s more, it was a newly established town, which is why it wasn’t on the map despite her frustration. So then, she has to go to the city of Nurenses and ask someone to show her the way to the new town.
How grand.
On the last part of the letter, she was instructed to meet with the local division of the Native Affairs Commission. She heard of that name dozens of times before when she was still in her tribe. They are mostly known for the people who manages relations with the demihuman kingdoms within the empire. Her tribe had numerous encounters with them, most of which are fraught with tensions.
Sighing, she pulled out the blue orb and contacted Azazel.
…
…
…
Tried to.
She has been missing since morning without telling her. Once again, she was on her own. She folded the letter and tucked it into her coat pocket, downing her drink in one gulp. Slamming it on the table, left a generous tip, and with a heavy sigh, she stood up, gathered her papers, and left.
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There was a particular mood permeating the imperial capital that evening. The local tavern was so crowded with men and women that it could no longer accommodate anyone else inside, spilling the revelers out into the streets. But no one seemed to mind. They were all there for a reason.
Inside, a man stood on a stage usually reserved for bards to play their witty music. He was young enough to inspire hope and old enough to command respect. His eyes gleamed with pride and satisfaction as he surveyed his audience—humans, elves, beastmen, dwarves, aquis, and a plethora of other races living within the empire. All looked at him expectantly. He knew what they wanted to hear, he had been doing this for more than twenty years, and he had no intention of stopping anytime soon.
“Brothers! Sisters!” he called out, his voice cutting through the noise. “You know why you’ve gathered here, and I know what you want. Repeat after me: We. Want. Change!”
The crowd roared back, their voices echoing in unison. “We. Want. Change!”
He raised his hands to quiet them. “Yes, we want change! The empire has grown stagnant, weighed down by corruption and complacency of the selected few! We are the ones who suffer while those in power grow fat on our labor!”
There was a murmur of agreement, a swell of emotion rising from the gathered throng. He could make out a single yell of agreement from the back.
“For too long, we have been ignored. The people have been ignored! our voices silenced by those who fear our power, by those who cling to their ancient crumbling traditions.” He paused, looking over the faces of his crowd. “Tell me. Are we represented?”
A resounding “No!” erupted from the crowd.
“Well, you’re wrong! We’re all represented!” He paused for effect. “By self-serving, power-hungry aristocrats!”
A wave of scornful laughter rippled through the crowd.
He continued, his voice rising. “These aristocrats claim to speak for us, but do they truly know our struggles? Do they understand our dreams? No! They live in their ivory towers of marble made of conquests of yore. Growing fat off our labor while we toil and suffer. They take our hard-earned gold to line their pockets and build their monuments, leaving us with nothing but crumbs.”
The crowd’s laughter turned into a chorus of boos and jeers directed at the unseen aristocracy.
“They sit on their crumbling ancient institutions as they do NOTHING for the common peoples! What did they do when the plague struck the poorest of the poor? What did they do when young men and women were enslaved for cruel menial labor? What did they do for the laborers who toil away as if they’re grease for the rusted gears we call this empire?”
He waited as the crowd quieted down.
“They say they know what's best for us, but all they know is how to maintain their power and privilege. They tell us to be patient, to wait for change, but we’ve waited long enough! The time for patience is over! The time for action is now!”
A roar of approval surged through the tavern as the crowd shouted in unison.
“We will no longer be silenced! We will no longer be ignored! We will rise up and take what is rightfully ours! Together, we will bring about the change we seek, the change we deserve! By any means necessary!”
The crowd erupted in cheers, their voices echoing through the streets. The man on the stage raised his fist in solidarity, feeling the energy of the people flow through him.
Just then, a young man yelled worryingly, his voice cutting through the cheers as everyone stopped to listen to his words.
“The Imperials are coming!” he yelled.
That was more than enough to make the crowd disperse, but due to the sheer number of people, the streets quickly became chaotic. People pushed and shoved, trying to escape the impending threat.
The man silently cursed underneath his breath, but he had expected this coming. He quietly escaped through a back door of the tavern before the police arrived, his job was done, and it was time to go to another place.
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“Madam deputy minister, it’s a relief to see you.”
Ries could only muster a tired smile as she shook hands with the TAC official. The train ride to Nurenses had been exhausting, despite spending most of her time reading a novel she’d picked up at the Alyrus station.
“I hope your journey was tolerable,” the official continued. “We have a car ready to take you to Ny Dessechey.”
“Thank you,” Ries replied, appreciating his efficiency.
The official nodded, leading her to a waiting automobile. As they drove through the bustling streets of Nurenses, Ries took the opportunity to observe the city. It wasn’t as well-developed as the capital, nor as idyllic as Alyrus. No, this was a different beast entirely.
The air was thick with smog, the streets teeming with people, most of them laborers coming to and from work. It was an industrial city, as the imperials called it—a small one, but with a gritty determination that spoke volumes about its inhabitants. Factories lined the streets, their chimneys belching smoke into the sky, while the clatter of machinery provided a constant backdrop to the bustling activity. Ries watched as children darted between the crowds, their faces smeared with soot, and vendors peddled their wares from rickety stalls.
There was a certain charm in its raw unpolished state. She was pretty sure this kind of scenery can be seen in certain parts of the capital, large as it is.
The automobile wound its way through the narrow streets, eventually leaving the industrial sprawl behind and entering the countryside. The transition was jarring, the smoky haze giving way to open grass fields and distant hills almost in an instant.
She didn’t speak much with the driver on the way to Ny Dessechey. Either she was tired or the driver was being professional, it didn’t matter. All she got from the trip was a blissful sleep.
She was woken abruptly when the automobile hit a pothole, jolting her awake. She blinked rapidly, taking in her surroundings as the car continued to bounce along the uneven road.
“Apologies, madam deputy minister,” the driver said, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. “The roads here can be quite rough.”
“It’s fine,” Ries replied, straightening in her seat and brushing away the remnants of sleep. Slightly annoyed she was abruptly woken up. “How much further?”
“We’re already in Ny Dessechey, ma’am. We’ll be arriving at the TAC building shortly.”
“That so?” Ries leaned on her seat and looked outside.
The so-called town seemed bustling and far from small. Wooden buildings sprawled along the streets, with more under construction. What most caught her attention were the barrels of oil—petroleum, the thing that made automobiles like the one she was in run. She observed workers carefully handling the barrels, a few of them operating makeshift refineries, which were strewn about the town.
As they pulled up to a modest yet sturdy building marked with the TAC insignia, the driver stepped out to open her door. Ries exited, straightening her clothes and taking a deep breath of the crisp, rural air tinged with the faint scent of oil.
A certain gruff, portly old man stood nearby, his appearance almost a caricature of the empire’s bureaucratic system—polished yet weathered, formal yet disheveled. It was evident from his bearing that he had years of experience under his belt.
Is this what she’ll become?
The man looks at her up and down as he pinches his thick mustache, “I wasn’t aware your kind was accepted.” His gaze stops at her feline ears.
“Oh boy.” Ries grimaced internally.
Despite her weariness and the annoyance bubbling beneath the surface, she maintained her composure. “I assure you, my presence here is sanctioned by Minister Eden himself,” she replied.
The man frowns, “Of course he sent you here. That man is known for his soft spot for the uncivilized.” He turns around and motions for her to follow, “be careful for the construction workers. We just built this building 2 days ago.”
Ries raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she followed him inside. The building still smelled of fresh paint and sawdust. Workers were bustling about, putting finishing touches on walls and ceilings. She stepped carefully around ladders and stacks of lumber.
The man led her to a makeshift meeting room where a large map of the Palushtag province laid.
“Has the minister informed you of why you were sent here?” he asked, stopping near the table.
“No, he hasn’t,” she admitted.
The man let out a deep sigh and shook his head before lighting a cigar he pulled from his coat. He held one out to her. “Interested?”
“I don’t smoke,” Ries declined politely with a wave of her hand.
“A shame,” he said, putting it back in his coat. “Call me Karoly. I’m in charge of the TAC’s Palushtag branch.”
“Anise. Deputy Minister of Home Affairs.” She emphasized her position, but Karoly only rolled his eyes.
“Deputy minister or not, you have one job here. See, we’re in a bit of a… situation.” His tone was neutral, leaving her uncertain whether he was worried or merely resigned to the task at hand.
“Situation?”
“Look at this map. What do you see?” He motioned for her to look closer.
She walked beside him and took a careful look at the map. It was the Palushtag province in a more detailed image.
Ries walked beside him and took a careful look at the map. It was a detailed image of the Paluushtag province. Obviously, the two prominent cities, Nurenses and Rymus, were labeled in bold lettering. Smaller towns and villages dotted the landscape.
What caught her attention was the name 'Ny Dessechey' scribbled in ink, as well as a large circle up north marked in red ink with the words 'PALUUSH TRIBES' written clumsily.
“What about it?” She inquired to Karoly.
He took a deep drag of his cigar before answering, “Some weeks ago, prospectors discovered an oil deposit in the northern part of the province, right within the territory of the Palush Tribes.”
Ries raised an eyebrow. “Oil? That explains the barrels I saw earlier. But what’s the problem?”
“The tribes don’t really like outsiders entering their land. The prospectors didn’t exactly ask for permission when they settled.” He paused and looked at her dead in the eye, “it just so happens to be that this town is the camp the early prospectors set up. Since then, it attracted migrants hoping to strike it rich with black gold.”
“Uh oh.” Something made her feel uneasy. It wasn’t hard to figure out why.
Karoly exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Prospectors and the tribesmen have repeated contacts and each time it ended in clashes from both sides. Armed clashes.”
“Is this why the TAC was brought in? To soothe tensions?”
Karoly shook his head. “In a perfect world, maybe. Fortunately, we aren’t naïve idealists. The prospectors want protection, the tribes want them gone, and we, the empire, want the oil. I’m sure you know what we’ll have to do.”
Ries grimaced. “We’re kicking them out of their own land?”
“No. No we won’t do that. We’ll work out an arrangement that can satisfy both sides. Ideally, at least. You’ll be our representative to them.”
“Me?” She doesn’t even qualify for her position, and she as hell doesn’t qualify to be a diplomat. “Are you sure you don’t have someone else in mind? Someone more experienced?”
“I wish. I don’t want to work with a beastmen either. But you’re a beastmen, that should make them feel easy talking with no human.”
“But—”
“Sir! A group of Palushians are approaching the town!” the door was slammed open by a worried staffer.
Karoly extinguished his cigar and gives Ries a brief glance, motioning with his head to follow him.
“Are you sure about this?” Ries walked beside him as they reached for the exit, “why not find someone more competent? Why me?”
“Because that son-of-a-bitch Minister of yours specifically wants you to—”
BANG BANG BANG
Their conversation was interrupted by shots fired from the distance. Karoly immediately faced the direction where the gunshots were fired, and Ries covered her ears from the loud sounds. It didn’t take long for screams to follow as chaos ensued in the town as the town’s small unit of police struggled to keep the order.
She could only imagine what caused the gunshots.