If somehow a person is transported to the past, and they ask the locals directions to Valyra, they might get mixed answers depending on the time period in which they arrived at. For Valyra has a long-standing history that predates the empire and its dragon God they worshipped, perhaps dating to antiquity where the first man made his home and the first wars were fought in these lands.
As indeed! The city has come far. Far beyond what its original inhabitants could imagine thousands of years ago.
The first ancestors of the Valerys Imperial royal family settled on this insignificant city some seven hundred years ago after their God had been killed and his realm fractured into warlords each vying dominance and claiming themselves to be the divine continuation of his realm.
From the hills of the Valyran plains, where the endless fertile soil birthed an extensive agricultural culture that lasted for millennia, to towering factories producing commodities around the clock. From small stone buildings to towering megalopolis that has long since overgrown past its city walls. From an insignificant backwater city to the center of an empire with over a hundred million souls under its dominion.
One of the landmarks of the city is the towering Imperial Palace, located opposite of the governance complex across the wide boulevard that connects the throne and the seat of government. Measuring one hundred and fifty meters in height, with each spires piercing the sky.
Nestled within the palace is a large room, more than large enough to be an office, furnished with the finest of furniture and scented with exotic perfumes that smelled like heaven on earth. The polished mahogany desk stands at the center, adorned with intricate carvings and inlaid with gold. Plush velvet chairs, upholstered in deep crimson, heavy silk curtains drape the tall windows, filtering the sunlight and casting a warm, golden glow over the room.
Sat behind the mahogany desk was the young Empress recently crowned after her father’s ‘unfortunate’ passing. Her face bore the signs of exhaustion, dark circles forming under her eyes. Despite her weariness, her posture remained regal for her age.
These past months ever since her ascension has been hit with a cascade of unfortunate events one after the other. The nobles have been getting rowdy ever since she abolished the position of Prime Minister, no thanks to one Earl Henry Eden’s rabblerousing which emboldened most of the aristocracy to take a stance against her.
In any normal circumstance, she would have removed these troublemakers immediately. Unfortunately, she inherited an empire in disorder. It was overextended, its bureaucracy bloated, and its military stretched thin. Though by law, she has every right to do whatever she wanted to, with her reputation combined with imperial authority being challenged by both the aristocracy and liberal commoners, made every bit of decision-making a precarious balancing act.
The Empress sighed, her fingers drumming on the polished mahogany desk. The reports in front of her detailed a litany of issues: aristocrats pushing for the restoration of premiership, liberal agitators pushing for reform, Aquilean aggressive posturing in the swirling ocean, and more recently, the war against the Palushian tribes. She knew she had to act swiftly, but every decision was a double-edged sword waiting like a guillotine to slam down and behead her if she made a wrong move.
Her options were limited, and as of right now her hands are tied with handling the aristocracy. For now.
It was two-past forty in the afternoon when the large door of her office opened with a gritty sound, and in came Archduke Elias Veron, director of the Imperial Security Directorate. His stout figure, dressed in the dark, impeccable uniform of his office, masked his unsightly body.
He was always a shady and slimy man, she thought. Having served over three monarchs—her grandfather, her father, and now her—there was something about him that repulsed her, an air of sliminess and deceit that she couldn’t shake. Yet, she knew she couldn’t get rid of him. His position meant he knew almost everything about anyone and probably knew the deepest of secrets. Like a snake in the garden, he is a constant threat so long as he lives.
"Your Majesty," Veron began, bowing slightly. His voice was smooth, almost oily but spoken like a true nobleman as he addressed her. “I trust you have perused my recommendations for handling this dire situation?”
The Empress regarded him with a steely gaze. "Indeed, Archduke Veron. Your insights are, as always, thorough." She spoke with her posh, soft voice. She opened her drawer and set two folders labeled ‘TOP SECRET’ on her desk.
“Most excellent, Your Majesty.” Veron shifted his posture and clasped his hands behind his back. “Say the word, and I shall promptly address the troublesome elements besetting your reign”
The Empress narrowed her eyes. Though she had employed underhanded means to secure the throne, she did not endorse such tactics with fervor, rather disdain. Her ascension to power was born of necessity for the empire’s continued survival. In her mind, a grand vision for an empire that would last a thousand years more—a vision that was not shared by her puppet of a father and her debauched, cowardly brothers.
Similarly, the abolition of the premiership—radical as it may have been—aimed to and successfully cut through bureaucratic red tape and limit the aristocracy’s influence, giving her the freedom to reassert control as she sees fit.
"Your enthusiasm is noted, Archduke," she said, scrutinizing the man before her. "I was unaware that the ISD possessed such boldness. Pray, when did this attitude arise?"
Veron chuckled. "I am honored that my efforts are recognized by the highest authority in the land, Your Majesty. The exigencies of the times have necessitated a certain boldness in approach."
The Empress, unyielding in her gaze, seized a folder and raised it for him to see. "Tell me, Archduke, why should I proceed with this plan of yours?" She cast the folder onto the desk with a dismissive flick. "And pray, why did you deem it fitting to name these 'war plans'?"
Veron's smile widened. "Your Majesty, the term 'war plans' is not intended to incite fear but to convey the urgency and gravity of our predicament. Our enemies within our borders grow bolder by the day. If left unchecked, it may one day explode like a powder keg. The defiance of the aristocracy, the clamor of the liberal agitators, and the threats from beyond all demand a decisive response."
He paused, strolling toward the right side of the room where a giant painting of their dragon God hung. "These plans are devised to restore order and solidify your authority, Your Majesty. Should you choose to act immediately, my ISD can demonstrate that your rule is nigh unassailable."
The Empress' eyes followed him, her expression impassive. "You speak of demonstrating unassailable rule, Archduke, yet I ponder if these methods will engender more foes than they quell. A ruler must invoke fear, yes, but also command respect. I cannot afford to alienate the entirety of my realm. What is a sovereign without subjects?"
Veron inclined his head slightly. "Your Majesty, your wisdom is unparalleled. These plans, while formidable, are but tools to be wielded with discretion. My ISD aims to use surgical methods to quietly and efficiently dispose of their targets."
The Empress considered his words, her fingers lightly tapping on the desk's polished surface before responding. "I shall refuse your proposal for the present,” she intoned, leaning back in her chair and casting the folders back into the drawer.
Veron bowed his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "As you command, Your Majesty. I shall await your further instructions."
"Ensure that the ISD remains vigilant," the Empress continued, running her fingers through her silky hair. "We shall monitor the situation meticulously and act with precision when the moment is of the opportune. When we do strike, it shall be quick and merciless. Understand me?"
"Indeed, Your Majesty," Veron replied. "Your prudence shall guide us in these turbulent times."
Veron excused himself with a low bow and the Empress watched as his stout figure receded through the door. Once alone, she turned her gaze to the documents on the desk.
The empire was fortunate enough to have her as their monarch, she mused. Not many would care for their nation more than they care for earthly desires or sell their own fiefdom for mere short-term ecstasy. A nation must have a ruler who is strong, unwavering in their duty, and resolute in their vision.
These subversive elements must be crushed sooner or later. Irritating as it may be to keep them around much longer, they may prove to be more than perfect scapegoats. Their very existence could serve to unite the disparate factions within her realm, presenting a common enemy against whom all could rally.
The Empress leaned back in her chair, her eyes narrowing in contemplation. "Patience," she whispered to herself. "All in due time."
For now, she would tread carefully and observe the pieces as they fell into place. As the living incarnate of the law, and as the representative of God in the mortal realm, the very notion of 'defiance' was something quite abhorrent to her. It was not merely an affront to her person but a challenge to the divine order she embodied.
But she knew better than to ignore the changing times; so too must the empire and its people evolve. On the surface, the empire was an absolute theocratic monarchy, with her serving as both Empress and the representative of God, from whom divine authority and whose blood flowed in her veins, and who was destined to return in due time. Beneath the surface, however, it had become a chaotic mess of alliances, scattered treaties blurring the lines of what was and was not legal.
Should her visions be realized, these issues must be addressed and wiped completely. No longer should any person defy her rule, and no longer shall the empire be incapacitated by its own internal discord. She would bring the empire from the cesspit of backwardness into a new modern age, with it kicking and screaming if necessary.
----------------------------------------
Sometimes, Ries wondered if her luck may be her own undoing. These past months since the battle of Ny Dessechey she had been swamped with a multitude of responsibilities. Responsibilities she never consented to. Among other things, being appointed as a representative of the Tribal Affairs Commission tasked with overseeing the pacification of the Palushian tribes was not what she expected. Who could’ve guessed Eden would’ve put a Beastmen in charge of bringing another group of Beastmen into the fold?
Regardless, she would be lying if she didn’t enjoy the benefits that came with that position, on top of being a Deputy Minister.
Can’t say the same for her current situation though… It has been months since the battle at Ny Dessechey, and since then the imperial army has bled its way through the Palushian heartlands. Keyword bled, since the Palushians, agile and resourceful, had unsurprisingly resorted to hit-and-run guerrilla tactics, coupled with a host of other unconventional methods that had taken their toll on the empire's forces. The rigid and methodical approach of the imperial army, so effective in open battlefields, was ill-suited to the fluid and unpredictable style of warfare employed by the Palushians.
What the Palushians lacked, however, was manpower. And that was the empire’s one saving grace, though it came at a steep cost. The imperial forces were bleeding, yes, but they had the numbers to absorb those losses, at least for now. The empire’s vast reserves of men and resources allowed it to endure the attrition that would have broken a lesser force, but the price of that endurance was growing ever higher.
Anyone who thought those ‘savages’ could easily be crushed with the might of the empire might want to reeducate themselves. The Palushians was quick to adapt and started to use the rifles stolen from ambushed soldiers. Of course that meant the empire too resorted to more aggressive methods.
Aggressive methods meaning they run face first into what is essentially a brick wall without any protection whatsoever. The artillery has its use limited when they entered the forested terrain, cavalry use was also limited, which leaves just the average infantry to try and take a tribal settlement. Which they did, at an expensive price of just shy of twenty thousand men.
When that report reached the capital, Ries could only imagine the fury of the Empress—or whoever was in command at the time. The general responsible for this disastrous campaign was promptly discharged, replaced by someone new. That change had occurred some weeks ago, and since then, Ries, as the highest civilian authority, found herself in charge of what remained of the army garrisoning the tribe they had taken.
Thankfully, she hadn’t yet needed to resort to extreme measures, hopefully she wouldn’t ever have to.
“Madame Anise,” she was snapped from her thoughts as she heard her second in command, a lieutenant, calling her with a sharp voice from outside her tent.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” She responded, turning toward the entrance just as the flap of her tent was pulled back.
The lieutenant stepped inside, saluting crisply before speaking. "Our scouts have made contact with the reinforcements, along with the new general. They are now leading them here."
She nodded, her mind immediately shifting to the logistics. “How far out are they?”
“Less than an hour, Madame,” he replied.
“That fast?”
“Yes, Madame. They move with motorized vehicles.” He confirmed.
Ries nodded. “Very well, you are dismissed,” the lieutenant saluted and left her tent. She leaned back on her seat for a moment before taking a deep breath and standing up. She grabbed her handgun, tidied her desk, and walked outside.
Her tent was located on a hill in the center of the tribe overlooking a quaint Palushian settlement. She took out a cigar and was about to light it up when she went against it.
‘Now’s not the time…”.
She took the time to feel her surroundings. The cruising nimbus clouds drifting lazily against the azure sky, the cool breeze that caressed her skin, and the scent of pine and earth carried on the wind—all seemed to conspire in creating an illusion of tranquility. The view was serene, deceptively so, as if the land itself had forgotten the bloodshed and tension that had brought them here.
This Palushian settlement they captured was a significant one, housing almost three thousand residents, roughly the size of a very small town. It wasn’t easy disarming the population and establish control of a martial race such as them. Even she still feels the resentment emanating from the Palushians. The outward calm of the settlement was just a façade, beneath it, she knew the people were simmering with barely restrained anger.
As she walked down to reach the entrance of the settlement, she passed by several checkpoints manned by soldiers. Equipped with a more up-to-date bolt action rifles and more professional training than the frontiersman she fought with in Ny Dessechey. The streets were empty, save for few Palushians here and there going about their day.
Ries couldn’t help but notice their rabbit-like ears, a defining trait of their kind, twitching slightly as if on constant alert. Like many other Beastmen, the Palushians possessed heightened senses akin to animals, and their sensitive hearing made them acutely aware of every sound, every whisper of movement around them.
She reached the entrance of the settlement, just in time, too. The reinforcements had arrived. First it was a convoy of trucks carrying heavy hunks of metal behind them, then it was the infantry marching in unison and orderly line, finally it was the cavalry.
As the last of the cavalry passed through the entrance, Ries squared her shoulders and prepared to meet the new general.
‘Formalities, formalities…’ She thought with a twinge of impatience. She would much rather get this over with and return to the capital.
The convoy came to a halt, and the soldiers began to disembark, forming up in ranks as they awaited their orders. Then, from the lead truck, a figure emerged—a man wearing a tricorne with colorful feathers and a caped uniform, a saber attached beside him. The outfit was a curious mix of flamboyance and formality, the bright feathers and tailored cape adding an almost theatrical flair to his calm appearance. His eyes swept over the assembled forces before settling on Ries.
He smiled and approached her. Ries was prepared to give the man a handshake and already extended her hand for a firm handshake. But to her surprise, instead of shaking her hand, the man took it gently in his own and brought it to his lips, bestowing a light, almost courtly kiss upon it.
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The unexpected gesture caught her off guard, and for a brief moment, she was at a loss for how to respond. The general’s actions were disarming, to say the least—an unusual mix of gallantry and perhaps to throw her off guard?
“Madame Anise,” he finally spoke. Releasing her hand and standing straight. “If it is not a burden to you, I, general Alto Jachs, shall relieve the forces here.”
Ries quickly regained her composure, withdrawing her hand with a polite, if guarded, smile. She remembered the formalities. “I’ll need to see the order.”
“Ah, how could I forget?” he replied, a note of amusement in his voice as he reached into his uniform. From an inner pocket, he produced a folded parchment, sealed with the official crest of the Empire. He offered it to her with a flourish, as though presenting a gift rather than a mere document.
Ries took the parchment, breaking the seal and carefully unfolding it. Her eyes scanned the contents quickly, verifying the authenticity of the order. Everything appeared to be in order—the signature of the Empress herself was unmistakable, and the directive was clear, the general before her was indeed authorized to take command of the forces stationed here.
Satisfied, she folded the document back up and handed it to him. “It seems everything is in order, General. The garrison is officially under your control.”
“Excellent,” he said with a slight nod, tucking the parchment back into his uniform. His tone was smooth, almost too polished, as if he’d rehearsed this moment many times over. “Lead me to the command tent, if you so please, Madame.”
Ries inclined her head slightly, masking any reservations she had. “This way, General.” She turned and began walking back toward the heart of the settlement, the general falling into step beside her.
As they walked, she noticed the curious glances from the soldiers they passed, their expressions were probably those of curiosity. They had heard of the general’s arrival but had yet to see him up close. The feathered tricorne and caped uniform certainly made an impression, one that was far removed from the austere military garb they were accustomed to.
Come to think of it, she mused, those kinds of military uniforms had fallen out of fashion years ago. Yet here he was, boldly flaunting a style that had long since been replaced by more practical attire.
She led him through the settlement, the sounds of the garrison gradually fading as they approached the command tent perched on the hill. Once they reached the hill, the general stops. “Madame, we shall conduct our next order of operations here.”
Ries turned to him, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Here? Outside?”
“Indeed,” he replied with a confident smile. “As I said.”
Before she could question him further, the general signaled to one of his adjutants, who quickly came running up the hill, followed by a group of other officers. They unfurled a giant map onto the ground at Jachs’ feet. The map was detailed, showing not just the settlement but the surrounding regions, including key locations and terrain features.
Jachs stepped onto the map without hesitation, still, his figure only occupied aa small portion of the map, his boots pressing into the fabric as he studied it. “Aerial reconnaissance has its uses, eh?” He remarked.
“It certainly gives us a clear view.” She followed his lead and stepped into the map, looking around it. The map was impressive, offering a bird’s-eye perspective of the territory they were in.
Jachs gestured to a point on the map. “We are here, yes?” His finger pointed to a small, marked settlement. “This is the Brahe tribe. Over there…” His hand moved across the map to another location, “...is the Wilten tribe. Supposedly it is the largest Palushian settlement in the region and the strongest, too.”
"I’ve heard that we’ve secured three tribes already?" Ries inquired, her gaze following Jachs’ hand as it moved across the map.
“Indeed,” Jachs nodded. “Though from what I’ve gathered, many of their warriors and leaders, including the high Queen, retreated to Wilten before we could fully subdue them. It seems they’ve consolidated their strength there."
“So what will you do?”
“Simply, Madame,” he smirked. “If it’s a siege they want, a siege they shall receive!”
Ries arched an eyebrow. “A siege?”
“I suppose you saw the metal hunks I brought with me?” Jachs glanced back at the trucks now stationed around the military camp.
Ries followed his gaze, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight. “I saw them. Artillery?”
“More than just artillery, Madame,” Jachs replied, his enthusiasm barely contained. “Those are the disassembled pieces of the forty-two centimeter field artillery. Once assembled, each one will weigh a hundred and fifty tons with a range of fourteen kilometers.” He gestured expansively with his arms, as though imagining the devastation they would soon unleash.
He paused, catching his breath after his rapid explanation. “Against the wooden defenses of these tribals, well, I dare say it’ll make quite the impact.”
Ries stared at him, unblinking. The man before her was talking about using heavy artillery against wooden walls—practically a massacre in the making. “That’s a lot of firepower to bring down what’s essentially a wooden wall.”
Jachs met her gaze with a confident, almost dismissive, smile. "Overwhelming force, Madame," he said. “The Palushians are a very traditional and prideful martial race. I fear every able tribesman will fight to the end. To that end, we shall break their spirit first, raining destruction on them like a mechanical angel of destruction.”
Ries felt a surge of anger rise within her as Jachs spoke with such cold certainty about his plan to essentially decimate the Wilten tribe. The idea of using overwhelming force to crush a proud, traditional people, whose only crime was defending their home, sickened her. She had only seen war one time, heck she’s used to killing, but this—this was something else entirely.
"General as a representative of the Tribal Affairs Commission, I am strongly against this course of action." She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing as she held his gaze. "We are not just here to conquer, we are here to bring these people into the fold, to integrate them into the Empire without erasing who they are."
Jachs looked at her, the confident smile faltering for the first time as he registered her opposition. "Madame Anise," he began, his tone now laced with a hint of condescension, "you must understand the nature of these people. They are warriors, fighters to the core. If we do not break their spirit, they will continue to resist, and more blood will be spilled—ours and theirs. This is the quickest, most effective way to end the conflict."
"And what then?" Ries shot back. "What happens after you've broken their spirit? After you've turned their homes to rubble and slaughtered their warriors? You think they'll simply submit? Or will you be left with a people who harbor nothing but hatred for the Empire, a people who will never forget or forgive what was done to them?"
"You speak as if we have a choice, Madame," he said, his voice growing colder. "War is not a matter of idealism. It is about victory, survival. The strong prevail, the weak submit—that is the way of the world."
"I am a Beastman, General," she said quietly. "I come from a tribe not unlike the Palushians. We have our traditions, our pride, our way of life. I understand the need for strength, but there is a difference between strength and cruelty, and I come from a tribe with heavy emphasis on strength. What you are proposing is nothing less than the annihilation of a people."
He lets out a quiet scoff and paused, looking around the settlement. “I have my orders, you have yours. We are professionals, and if you have any concerns or any suggestions I suggest you run it up to our wonderful bureaucracy.” Jachs remained silent for a moment, studying her with an unreadable expression. "I respect your passion, Madame Anise. But this is not a battle we can afford to lose. I will take your concerns into consideration, but the decision stands. The Empire's interests must come first."
Jachs broke eye contact, turning his attention back to the map at their feet. “Let’s get back to discussing tomorrow’s strategy,” he said, his voice now all business.
She nodded, if a bit irritated. “What do you have in mind?”
Jachs unsheathed his saber with a sharp, metallic hiss, using the blade to trace a line across the map. “Tonight, we will march to this location,” the tip of his saber hovered over a flat area marked on the map. “It’s mostly flat, with a significant mound. We’ll establish our battle line there.”
He then moved the saber toward another point, stopping at a settlement situated in a clearing within a dense forest. “And here, beyond this forest, lies Wilten.”
“That’s a pretty large forest, are you sure you can breach that?” Ries recalled hearing news about the heavy casualties when the army marched into a forest, which happened all across Palushian territories.
“I’ve brought mages with us. They’ve been working on enchantments for our artillery shells, specifically designed to cut through the forest.”
Ries looked at him, surprised. “Mages?” That’s a whole other level of commitment, considering how valuable they are. “How did you get approval for this?”
He waved dismissively. “Ah, I asked them if there’s one or two mages lying around that I can borrow. Turns out there was three.”
Ries blinked, taken aback by his nonchalance. “Three mages... just lying around?”
Jachs chuckled, clearly amused by her reaction. “The bureaucracy can be a wonderful thing, Madame. Sometimes, all it takes is the right request at the right time. You should know,” he cleared his throat. “But I digress.”
He looked back at the map, his saber tracing a circle around the flat area. "The engineers will construct a trench system here, and artillery encampments will be positioned along the ridge. The artillery I mentioned earlier is unfortunately still experimental in nature, and thus we only have four of them," He sheaths his saber. “We will need to assemble them on field, which will take significant time.”
Ries’ brow furrowed as she considered the logistics. “Experimental?”
“Ah, I suppose I should’ve mentioned that I served as a military attaché to the Valkorian Kingdom for quite some time. I was specifically recalled and reassigned to this front to test out some new tactics I’ve learned from the Valkorians.”
Ries tilted her head slightly. “Valkoria?” She asked. Her knowledge of foreign nations was limited, to say the least. She had little reason or opportunity to learn about distant kingdoms.
Jachs rubbed his chin. “How should I put this… the Valkorians are at war with the empire of Great Boria which lies north of us. Naturally, we are keen on exploiting them.”
“Exploit?” Now she was just asking questions like a little child. Not that it's forbidden, but she really doesn't know what else to add other than her thoughts.
“Indeed,” Jachs continued. “The empire has been selling weapons to the Valkorians. It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, really. They get the firepower they need to hold their own against Great Boria, and we get a steady influx of funds, not to mention insight into their military advancements.”
“And what is this tactic you speak of?”
“The Valkorians call it ‘storm troopers’ or something along those lines,” Jachs replied, his hands articulating it. “It’s a highly effective method of rapid, focused assault, designed to break through enemy lines with speed and precision. I believe it will be a perfect counter to the agile Palushians. They rely on mobility and hit-and-run tactics, but if we can overwhelm them with a swift and concentrated strike, we can shatter their defenses before they even have a chance to react.”
Ries considered his words, her brow furrowing with concern and unease about what he’s going to say next. “But they’re entrenched, aren’t they? Wouldn’t that tactic be more effective on an open field? We’re talking about a forest with natural barriers that could slow down your forces.”
Jachs smirked. “That’s where the mages come in. I’ve brought them along to, well, erase the forest, so to speak. A few well-placed volleys of fire-enchanted artillery shells should clear the way. Once the trees are out of the equation, the Palushians will be exposed, and that’s when we strike.”
He looked at her as if expecting her to shoot back regarding the cruelty of such actions. But she merely pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “This isn’t my place… I’ll be going back to the capital, I don’t want to be associated with mass murderers.”
Jachs raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her blunt statement. He had anticipated resistance, perhaps even outrage, but her calm resignation caught him off guard.
“Well, I suppose that’s one way of referring to soldiers.” He steps out of the map and lights up a cigar. “Though I recommend you stay out of Valyra for a while.”
“Oh?” Ries joined him, lighting her own cigar and taking a slow drag. “Why’s that?”
Jachs inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling in a long stream. “Riots, protests, all that nonsense. The streets reek of burnt cigarettes and piss.” He winced
“What about?”
“Liberals,” he sighed, as if the word itself left a bad taste in his mouth. “As usual, they’re the ones stirring the pot. Demanding reform, more rights, less control. They want change, and they’re making a lot of noise about it.”
"I see..." she said quietly, not hiding her lack of enthusiasm. Politics and ideologies never interested her, even after she was thrust into becoming a deputy minister. They always seemed like endless debates that led nowhere and only produce headaches for everyone involved. "Do you think they can actually make reforms happen?"
“They’re idealists,” Jachs muttered, taking another drag from his cigar. “Always thinking they can reshape the world by shouting loud enough. But the Empire is a machine, Madame. It grinds on, regardless of what they want. They’re just making it harder for everyone, including themselves.”
“Then I suppose I’ll stay here for a while,” she replied, not entirely convinced. The liberals have a good point, believe it or not.
Jachs paused, then added, "Oh, but I have a task for you, Madame. As a diplomat to the Palushians."
Ries turned to look at him. “A diplomat?” she echoed, surprised by the sudden shift in their conversation. “What do you mean?”
“I need someone they can trust,” Jachs explained. “Someone who understands their culture, their values—a Beastman, like you. Your presence could help ease tensions, perhaps even broker some sort of understanding before things escalate further.”
“You’re asking me to make them surrender, is that what you meant?”
“You said it yourself, didn’t you?” He flicked his cigar to the ground and stomped on it. “You’ve made it clear that you want to ‘save’ them from what you see as unnecessary destruction. This is your chance. Go to them, speak on behalf of the Empire, and try to find a solution that doesn’t end in bloodshed.”
Ries studied him for a moment, weighing his words. “And if they refuse?” she finally asked.
He shrugged. “At least we tried to be diplomatic.”
Ries thought of it for a while. ‘A diplomat? That’s not me’, she thought. Even with her fake identity as a deputy minister, she was always comfortable either in battle or ordering someone else to do things for her. Technically she doesn’t even have any sort of formal education. Negotiation, diplomacy—those were the tools of politicians, which she isn’t.
“Diplomat,” she repeated softly, almost as if testing the word. “You’re asking a lot from someone who isn’t exactly known for their silver tongue.”
“I suppose you’re right. I heard you only passed the Imperial Examination with flying colors and immediately hired as deputy minister, no? It’s clear then you don’t have any experience.”
Jachs is right, she only accidentally got appointed as deputy minister, not even qualified. Again, it seems her luck is something else entirely.
“I’ll do it,” she said after a long pause, her voice steady but laced with reluctance. “But don’t expect miracles. I’m no diplomat, and I won’t pretend to be one.”
Jachs smiled and nodded. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, Madame. Now, I’ve been getting thirsty, how about a drink to cool off?”
----------------------------------------
The clear night sky was beautiful, Ries thought to herself as she rode under a blanket of stars. It was well past midnight, and the world around her was silent save for the rhythmic sound of her horse’s hooves against the earth and the occasional sounds of critters in the underbrush.
She had been riding for hours, knowing that the journey to the Wilten tribe would take at least five more if she kept up her current pace. She had departed at the same time the army had begun its march, but unlike them, her path was a solitary one. The army would take at least twice as long to reach their position, their progress slowed by the sheer number of troops and the heavy equipment they carried. Even with trucks at their disposal, the terrain and logistics would inevitably delay them.
She found her self to be quite bored. Of course, it wasn’t fun so to speak when you’re riding a horse under the cover of darkness with only a lantern to guide her way. That, and the bright moonlight.
Sleepy? Obviously.
Sleeping in her tent back at the settlement was uncomfortable. Military sleeping bags were designed to just cover up the dirt and nothing else. Her back almost feels sore. Almost.
Her mind kept her awake during her ride. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she should approach the Palushians. Questions and doubts swirled in her head, each one gnawing at her resolve. Would they even understand her if she spoke in the imperial language? Would they listen to what she had to say, or would they kill her on sight, seeing her only as a representative of the empire that sought to destroy them?
The thought worried her deeply. She knew she had the best intentions, wanting to spare them from the oncoming onslaught, but intentions alone wouldn’t protect her—or them. If it had been her tribe under threat, she knew exactly what she would do. She wouldn’t hesitate to abandon any position, no matter how high or secure, to return and fight for her people, to defend their land with everything she had.
Would the Palushians feel any different? She doubted it. To them, she might just be another enemy, a symbol of the empire’s relentless advance, and that made her mission all the more precarious. She understood their position, perhaps too well, and that understanding was what fueled her anxiety. Would they see her as a potential ally, someone who could offer them a way out? Or would they view her as just another invader to be cast out or cut down?
Or—
Her feline ears suddenly twitched, picking up the faint rustling of bushes nearby. The sound snapped her from her thoughts, and she immediately turned to look in the direction it had come from. Her senses heightened, she scanned the dark underbrush, her eyes narrowing to pierce the shadows.
But there was nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just trees, bushes, and... where had the critter sounds gone?
The silence was unsettling. The forest, alive with activity just moments ago, now seemed to hold its breath, as if something—someone—was watching her. The only thing that gave her comfort was the soft glow of her lantern, casting its reassuring light around her. Yet even that light seemed feeble against the oppressive darkness that had suddenly enveloped the woods.
Ries' hand instinctively tightened around her handgun, the cold metal providing a small measure of reassurance. She had been in enough adventuring quests to recognize the signs—something wasn’t right. The forest was too quiet, the air too still. Her ears strained to catch even the faintest sound, but there was only silence, thick and heavy.
She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. Whatever was out there, she needed to stay calm, to think clearly. Had the Palushians come?
They resorted to guerrilla tactics after the empire pushed them back. Was this an ambush? Or was her mind playing tricks on her, twisting the normal sounds of the night into something more sinister?
It couldn’t be. She had to stay rational.
Slowly, she raised her handgun, the barrel gleaming faintly in the dim light of her lantern. If there was someone—or something—out there, the sight of her weapon would act as a deterrent. Or so she hoped.
A faint rustle, barely audible, reached her ears. It was closer this time, and her muscles tensed in response. She aimed her handgun in the direction of the sound, her finger hovering over the trigger.
Seconds passed in agonizing stillness. The forest seemed to hold its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the feeling of being watched began to fade. The familiar night sounds slowly returned—crickets chirped, the wind rustled through the leaves, and the distant call of an owl echoed through the trees.
Ries didn’t lower her weapon, not yet. She knew better than to let her guard down so easily. But as the moments passed and the forest remained peaceful, she began to wonder if perhaps it had been nothing more than a trick of her imagination.
‘Perhaps the stress is getting into me?’ she thought as she lowered her weapon.
Still, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in her gut. Something was out there, and whatever it was, it wasn’t friendly.
She barely had time to register the return of normalcy in the forest before a sharp, stinging sensation pierced through her back. It was sudden, like a flash of lightning, cutting through the false sense of security that had begun to settle in her mind. The sensation quickly morphed into searing pain, and she felt something burrowing deep into her flesh.
Time seemed to slow down, her senses overwhelmed by the shock. Her mind struggled to process what had just happened, the world around her becoming a blur. The pain intensified, radiating from her back and spreading throughout her body, and then, everything seemed to fade—colors dimmed, sounds became distant echoes, and her vision darkened at the edges.
She tried to fight it, to stay conscious, but her body was betraying her, the strength in her limbs draining away. Her handgun slipped from her grasp, hitting the ground with a dull thud. The last thing she saw was the silhouette of trees swaying gently in the breeze, their leaves whispering secrets she could no longer hear.
And then, everything went black.
She collapsed, her body crumpling to the ground, the forest once again falling into an eerie silence as the night swallowed her whole.