Ever since the situation calmed down and the strikers return to work, the capital city has returned to a state of normalcy. The trams clattered down the streets, merchants hawked their wares in the market squares, and life seemed to settle back into a familiar routine. For most, it was a relief—an easing of tension after the unrest. But for others, the new 'normalcy' was a living nightmare.
If you were unfortunate enough to be flagged as a person of interest by the ISD, the days of calm and routine had ended.
Under Ries’ orders, the ISD had doubled down on their efforts, conducting sweeping investigations and silent detentions under the veil of night. What had started as a targeted search for Daemon infiltrators quickly morphed into something darker. Homes were raided without warning, and those suspected of harboring or being connected to Daemons simply disappeared.
The ISD’s reach was all-encompassing, their eyes and ears seemingly in every street and alleyway. There were no safe places left, not in Valyra, nor anywhere in the Empire.
But as harsh as they do their job, the ISD does in fact bring in results. Daemon shapeshifters were quickly identified and disposed of. Those who aided them were dealt with in kind.
Presently, Ries sat behind the desk of her private office. Before her lay a report freshly delivered by the ISD—forty thousand Daemon infiltrators, rooted out and ‘dealt with,’ it claimed.
Allegedly. The truth behind the numbers had long become an enigma, and she had learned to take such reports with a heavy dose of skepticism.
Her recent injury had conveniently removed her from the frontlines of these decisions, relegating much of the burden to Clarissa back in the governance complex. For now, the ISD would run its course without her direct oversight.
With a sigh, she pushed to paper aside and flipped open the new document underneath it.
The CDLWP—specifically Sardine's Liberal faction—had spread the word of her promises far and wide. Now, their "kindly" insistence for action was turning into pressure, demanding her go through with her promises she made last week. She had expected the demands to mount eventually, but the speed at which they now came was unnerving.
The document in front of her was the seventh draft of the new constitution. It had been written and revised by both herself and Clarissa over the past days—a more democratic constitution, if only on paper. It was far from perfect and far from what some within the CDLWP were pushing for, but it was the best compromise they had managed so far.
The document stipulated greater representation for the lower classes, a reformed system of checks on government officials, and increased transparency in state affairs. At its core was the introduction of an elected House of Representatives, where the electorate would include every citizen above the age of 20, regardless of race, religion, social status, or education. It was radical in its simplicity—true universal suffrage. For the first time in Imperial history, commoners, even the marginalized like her own Beastman kin, would have a voice in governance.
However, the most critical point—and the one Ries knew would be the most contentious—was that the Empress would retain her powers. The new constitution, while more democratic in certain areas, had to ensure that the monarchy’s control remained intact. Anything else would have been political suicide, and Ries wasn’t interested in getting executed for treason.
Still, there was no denying that this draft tilted the Empire towards a more democratic system. For the first time, commoners would have a say in local governance, something unheard of in recent history. In theory, this could be a peaceful way to prevent another worker strike or a full-blown revolution.
But she wasn’t naive. The aristocrats would fight tooth and nail to keep their privileges. Which is why their 'rights' would be upheld by the creation of a House of Lords. Made up exclusively of the aristocracy, this bicameral legislature would maintain the aristocracy’s grip on power in the upper echelons.
Though technically, either house could propose and pass laws, but there was a crucial caveat: the Empress retained veto power over everything. No law would come into effect without her approval, ensuring that, in the end, the final say always lay with the monarchy. The Empress remained the keystone in this entire constitutional framework.
Speaking of the Empress... Ries’ stomach churned slightly as her thoughts drifted to her sovereign. This latest revision of the constitution hadn't been approved by her yet. In fact, neither had Ries' negotiations with the striking workers or the promises she had made to them. She had been walking a dangerous line, acting without explicit permission and hoping the Empress would either come around to her point of view—or, in the best-case scenario, remain unaware until it was too late to reverse course.
But knowing the Empress, that hope seemed increasingly foolish.
Just then, the door creaked open, revealing Ilya, Ries’ maid. A Siren, Ilya had a quiet presence, though she looked much more clean and collected now than when they first met. Yet despite her growing confidence, she still fidgeted at times, and one particularly annoying habit was the occasional shedding of her feathers, which would litter the floor.
"Um, Madam Katzennia," Ilya began, her voice soft as she nervously played with her hands, "there is someone at the front door looking for you."
Ries raised an eyebrow, already irritated by the intrusion. "Who is it?"
"I don’t know," Ilya admitted, shifting her weight nervously. "She just… told me to get you and came inside the house herself."
"Inside?" Ries' expression hardened. "Where is she now?"
"The living room," Ilya answered quietly.
Whoever this was had better have an exceptionally good reason. Grabbing her cane, she stood up, brushing past Ilya without a word and quickly descended down the stairs.
As she entered the living room, however, her irritation froze into something else entirely. Sitting comfortably on the couch, as though she owned the place, was a golden-haired woman. The woman's smile was pleasant but unnervingly sharp, and her attire, unusually simple compared to what Ries would expect, didn’t mask her identity.
Ries' breath caught in her throat. "I… your majesty?" she stammered, eyes widening.
The Empress inclined her head ever so slightly, her smile never faltering. "Lady Katzennia." Her voice was calm, melodic, and terrifying in its refinement. "I heard of your injury and came to extend my deepest sympathies. However," her eyes narrowed, the warmth of her smile turning into something far more dangerous, "I could not help but overhear talk of certain… democratic reforms?"
Ries felt her heart lurch, her throat suddenly dry. The Empress’ smile remained, but there was a glint in her eyes that made Ries want to run—or kneel. She swallowed hard, choosing her words carefully.
"Your Majesty, I—"
"Do not insult me with prevarications, Lady Katzennia," the Empress interrupted, her voice soft but edged like a knife. "I trust that you have been rather busy, making promises to the discontented masses, striking deals with factions behind my back.”
Ries winced, her ears flattening. "I had hoped to ease tensions among the workers, your Majesty. To prevent further unrest…"
The Empress rose gracefully from the couch, taking a step toward her. "How benevolent of you," she said with a feigned sweetness that only deepened the menace beneath. "I must commend your initiative. But did you truly believe reforms of this nature—my reforms—could be enacted without my knowledge? Or perhaps, Lady Katzennia, you imagined yourself capable of governing without consulting the throne?"
Ries stiffened, her tail flicking anxiously. The Empress’ presence was overwhelming, the weight of her authority pressing down like a storm cloud about to break.
"I would never—" Ries started, but the Empress raised a hand, silencing her.
"Indeed, you would not." The Empress’ voice was chillingly calm, but her eyes… her eyes held a power so intense, it felt as though they could strip a person bare with a single glance. She stood directly in front of Ries now, her gaze sharp enough to cut through the thickest armor. "Now, Lady Katzennia," the Empress continued, her words as lethal as any blade, "I kindly invite you to sit."
Ries hesitated for a split second, but the weight of the command left no room for refusal. She lowered herself into the chair, her heart pounding in her chest as the Empress’ unrelenting gaze stayed on her.
"And you will," the Empress added with icy precision, "go through your little draft with me. Now."
Ries gulped, reaching for the stack of papers she had been revising which had been conveniently placed by Ilya after seeing the direction of the conversation. There was no longer any pretense of casual conversation. The Empress had no intention of offering condolences or easing tensions. No, this was a reckoning.
"We will correct the inconsistencies, if I do find them," the Empress continued, settling herself with an unnerving elegance into the couch opposite Ries. Her hands rested lightly on her lap, but there was nothing relaxed about her posture. She was as poised as a predator waiting to strike.
Ries laid the document out on the table, her hands slightly trembling. "Your Majesty, this draft—"
"Is a commendable attempt," the Empress interrupted, leaning forward slightly, her eyes still locked onto Ries. "But understand this, Lady Katzennia. My Empire is not a playground for experimental governance. What you propose must serve my interests, as well as the interests of the people."
Ries nodded, her throat dry. She began flipping through the pages, her voice quieter than usual. "The reforms aim to grant greater representation to the lower classes, an elected house, and—"
"Greater representation," the Empress mused. "A noble idea, in theory. But tell me, Lady Katzennia, do you believe that the common people possess the wisdom to govern themselves, even in part?"
Ries hesitated, knowing full well that there was no safe answer to that question. "They… deserve a voice, Your Majesty. To prevent unrest—"
"Ah, unrest," the Empress cut in, her smile returning, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "You fear revolution, then? You believe appeasement will preserve the Empire?"
Ries swallowed hard. "I believe it is a way to maintain stability without—"
"Without bloodshed," the Empress finished, her voice growing softer, yet no less dangerous. "And yet, Lady Katzennia, sometimes bloodshed is precisely what strengthens a nation. Stability is not maintained by bending to the will of the discontented masses but by ensuring they remember their place."
Ries shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Your Majesty, I only wish to find a balance that—"
"The balance," the Empress said, leaning back slightly, "will come from understanding that any reforms must reinforce the Crown's authority, not diminish it. You will revise this draft, with my guidance, to ensure that is the case."
Ries nodded quickly.
“Then shall we begin?”
----------------------------------------
Oblivious to the events that taking place in the building nearby. Anna walked with a lightness in her step, her basket swinging gently at her side. She hummed quietly to herself, her thoughts focused on one thing—her destination.
For as long as she could remember, enrolling in the prestigious Valerian Academy had been nothing more than a dream. She had always known her family couldn't afford the tuition, despite the shock and pride on her father's face when they had received her acceptance letter. It had been the only time she’d seen him go pale, his hands trembling as he read the words aloud. But reality had quickly set in. The tuition was simply too expensive for a low-class commoner family like hers.
Still, Anna refused to give up hope. She’d worked hard, and she had always believed that if she was lucky enough, an opportunity might come her way. And now, it seemed it had.
Just days ago, she had spotted a notice in a newspaper—Valerian Academy was opening scholarship programs! It had been the stroke of luck she’d been waiting for.
Finally, she reached her destination—a small, familiar post office tucked between the bustling shops and streets. The bell above the door jingled softly as Anna stepped inside, the familiar scent of paper and ink filling the air. The place was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city outside.
Her eyes landed on the figure behind the counter—Mr. Louis, the post office clerk. His head was tilted back, his arms crossed over his chest, clearly dozing off. His graying hair peeked out from beneath a worn cap, and a pair of reading glasses sat precariously on the tip of his nose.
The old man jerked awake, his glasses nearly tumbling off as he blinked rapidly. "Wha—oh, Anna!" he exclaimed, his voice hoarse from sleep. "You’re here already, eh? Thought you’d be in later."
"I couldn’t wait!" Anna beamed. "I have to send something important today!"
Mr. Louis chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "Important, eh? Well, let’s get to it then. What’ve you got?"
Anna eagerly pulled a neatly folded letter from her basket, the scholarship application she had spent the last two nights perfecting. She placed it on the counter with a sense of finality. "I need this sent to the Valerian Academy," she said, her voice filled with hope.
Mr. Louis eyed the letter for a moment, then gave her a warm, approving smile. "Ah, so you’re aiming for that scholarship, are you?"
Anna nodded, her excitement bubbling over. "It’s my only chance. I just know it!"
Mr. Louis chuckled as he took the letter, adjusting his glasses. “I’ll be sure to send it, but it’ll cost 20 Silver Virs for the postage stamp.”
“No Problem!” Anna reached into her basket and set down the required 20 Silver Virs. Mostly in pennies and a few worn down notes here and there.
Mr. Louis glanced down at the pile of coins and tattered notes with a bemused smile, shaking his head slightly. “Well now, that’s quite a collection you’ve got there,” he said, his wrinkled fingers carefully sorting through the currency.
Anna blushed, but she grinned. “It’s all I could scrape together. I’ve been saving for weeks.”
The old man chuckled again, this time with a touch of admiration. “A determined one, aren’t ya? That’s good. Keep that fire, and who knows, you might just be the Empire’s next great scholar.”
He counted the coins one last time, then nodded in satisfaction. “All set.” He took a stamp from the drawer behind him and pressed it firmly onto the envelope. The soft thump echoed in the quiet office, and for a moment, Anna felt like her heart had stopped. Her dreams, her future—everything was tied to that simple piece of paper now.
Mr. Louis slid the letter into the outgoing mail bag and gave Anna a reassuring wink. “It’ll be on its way by the end of the day. Valerian Academy should get it by the week’s end.”
Anna let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thank you, Mr. Louis!” She said softly, her heart swelling with gratitude.
"Don't mention it, kid," he replied with a wave of his hand. "Just make sure you make the most of that scholarship when you get it."
"I will!" Anna promised, her eyes gleaming with determination. “Uhm… do you have any new postage stamps?”
"Hm? Oh right, still collecting those, huh?" Mr. Louis said, rubbing his chin. "Let me see what I’ve got." He shuffled over to a small drawer behind the counter and rummaged through its contents. After a moment, he pulled out a small booklet and flipped it open, displaying several stamps with intricate designs.
Anna leaned in, her eyes lighting up. "Wow, those are beautiful!" she exclaimed, her gaze fixated on a particularly striking one that depicted the Empire’s grand airship soaring through the clouds.
Mr. Louis smiled at her enthusiasm. “This one’s from the newest series, just came in last week. It’s a limited edition, commemorating the completion of the new airship fleet.”
Anna’s hand hesitated over her basket. "How much for this one?" she asked, knowing she didn’t have much left after the postage.
“For you? Just 5 Silver Virs,” he said with a wink. "A collector like you deserves a break."
Her face lit up, and she quickly rummaged through the basket again, pulling together the 5 Silver Virs, though this time with more ease. She handed over the coins, and Mr. Louis carefully peeled the airship stamp from the booklet, handing it to her with a knowing smile.
"Thank you!" Anna said, beaming. She tucked the stamp safely into her basket, her heart still racing from excitement. “I’ll add it to my collection when I get home. It’s perfect!”
“You take care now, Anna,” Mr. Louis called as she turned to leave.
"I will!" Anna called back, pushing open the door and stepping out into the bustling streets. She clutched her basket tighter as she walked away.
Today had been a good day. The letter was sent, the scholarship was within reach, and her beloved collection had just grown by one beautiful piece.
----------------------------------------
As Anna strolled past a quaint little café nestled just outside of Ries' building, her thoughts wandered back to her hopes for the future. She barely noticed the quiet buzz of conversation, the clatter of cups, or the occasional tram rolling by.
Unbeknownst to her, inside that same café, a woman with silver-white hair sat quietly, sipping her coffee. The sunlight caught her hair, making it gleam like moonlight.
Moments later, a man approached and sat across from her without a word of greeting. He was unassuming in appearance, looking much like any local Valyrian might. Yet, beneath the façade, there was something off about him—his movements too fluid, his presence too cold. The air around them seemed to shift.
"Mademoiselle," the man leaned in, he spoke in a low, measured tone. "We’re compromised."
The woman's eyes narrowed slightly, though she continued to sip her coffee without showing any outward sign of distress. Her demeanor remained unshaken, composed. Only the subtle flicker in her gaze hinted at any reaction.
"How bad is it?" she asked, her voice smooth and deliberate, barely loud enough for anyone nearby to overhear.
The man’s lips tightened into a grim line. “Valeria’s ISD is far more effective than we anticipated. They’ve rooted out more than expected, and it won’t be long before they close in on us.”
The woman leaned back in her chair, finally setting her cup down with a soft clink. She crossed her legs, her pale fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest of her chair as if considering something.
"And what of the others?" she asked, her voice still composed, though a hint of impatience seeped in.
"Scattered. Most have either fled or... disappeared. The Empire’s reach is everywhere," the man replied, glancing briefly over his shoulder as if expecting someone to appear at any moment.
The woman’s eyes followed his gaze, scanning the streets, but her expression remained unreadable. "Tch," she muttered softly, more to herself than to the man.
Certainly, if only that amateur infiltrator hadn’t acted so rashly and tried to stab the Prime Minister, none of this would’ve spiraled out of control. What should have been a silent, undetected mission had turned into a fiasco. Now, their entire operation was compromised, the Imperial Security Directorate breathing down their necks.
At the very least, Ries would only have a vague description of her—not enough to cause significant harm. Still, it was an unnecessary risk that had now put them all in jeopardy.
Her irritation deepened as she another event in her mind. All of this could have been avoided if that fool hadn’t tried to kill and shapeshift into someone so openly. It didn’t matter that it was nighttime; people still screamed. And it just so happened that a police station was nearby.
The woman’s fingers drummed against the side of her cup, the only sign of her growing frustration. That infiltrator had panicked, tried to flee, and ended up shot dead before she could complete her mission. If she had succeeded, they would have had unprecedented access to the Empire's inner workings. The entire point of her taking the Imperial examination was to blend in, not make a spectacle of herself and die.
Instead, they were back to square one, with no direct line to the government, and worse, they were being hunted. The Empire’s security forces were ruthless and efficient, a miscalculation on their part. One mistake, and they were closing in like wolves to the scent of blood.
"If only she’d held her nerve," the woman murmured, her voice bitter with regret. "We’d have had a foothold inside the Imperial bureaucracy."
And the chaos she tried to trigger by giving the dissident CDLWP the undemocratic draft of the constitution? It didn’t last a day when Ries met with the leaders and promised reforms herself. It was as if she knew all along.
The woman turned her icy gaze to the man across from her. "How goes the Impératrice and the west?"
The man puffed his chest. “Our armies have conquered the puny human kingdoms and stormed the Holy City. The Hero was struck a devastating blow, and Her Majesty the Impératrice have forged an alliance with the Valkorian and Borian humans.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the Hero. "Struck a blow, you say? But not dead."
The man shifted uncomfortably, his initial bravado faltering under her scrutiny. "No, not dead. But severely weakened. It’s only a matter of time before—"
"Time we may not have," the woman interrupted. "A wounded beast is still dangerous, especially one as stubborn as the Hero. He’ll rally, somehow. They always do. And what of this alliance with the Valkorians and Borians? Are they truly as loyal as they seem, or are they simply waiting for the opportunity to betray us?"
The man smirked. "The humans have come to realize who the true superior race is. They have offered their forces willingly."
The woman rolled her eyes. That was obvious bullshit.
"Spare me your delusions," she muttered under her breath, casting him a sidelong glance. She knew better than anyone that the Valkorian Kingdom and the Borian Tsardom were bitter enemies, bound by centuries of bloodshed and conflict. Sworn to tear each other apart at the first opportunity, their rivalry ran too deep to simply vanish overnight. How the Impératrice had managed to corral them into an alliance remained a mystery, but one thing was certain—they wouldn’t stay united under her will for long.
The woman’s thoughts drifted back to the larger picture. The task at hand was clear; destabilizing the Empire enough to force its leadership to think twice before meddling in western affairs. That was the priority. The Imperial armies were formidable, but even the strongest power could be drained, stretched thin over multiple fronts.
Her only hope now lay with the Aquileans. The naval war between the Empire and the Aquilean Empire had dragged on for quite some time now, and if things continued as they were, it could prove the key to crippling the Empire’s resources and focus.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The woman shifted her legs, crossing them underneath the table as a faint smile curled on her lips. Truly, this is a life worth living. The thrill of operating in the shadows, guiding events from behind the scenes—how exciting. The rigid life under the Church had never afforded her this kind of freedom. Out here, there were no sermons, no blind obedience, just the exhilarating dance of strategy and manipulation.
Her eyes flicked back to the man across from her, who sat attentively, waiting for her next command. “We’ll aid the Aquileans with intel,” she said, her tone cold and measured. “Make sure they win every engagement at sea. Feed them our reports—fleet movements, supply routes, everything.”
The man nodded. “And if the Valerians—”
“—find a way to end the war quickly?” she cut him off. “Don’t let them. Sabotage their supply lines, disrupt their communications. Whatever it takes. This war needs to drag on. The longer it does, the weaker the Empire becomes.”
“Yes. Gloire à l'Impératrice,” the man echoed, bowing slightly. He exited the café, and when no eyes were on him, his form shifted, skin and bones rippling as he dissolved into a new shape—a simple, unremarkable figure of a local merchant. Without another word, he blended seamlessly into the bustling crowd, vanishing as if he’d never been there.
----------------------------------------
In one of the tallest skyscrapers in Valyra, a structure that stood as a testament to the Empire's modernity—its steel beams gleaming in the sunlight—an impromptu meeting was taking place. Ministers of various portfolios, each with their own political leanings and vested interests, had gathered in the office of one of their own. The room itself was a blend of old-world grandeur and cutting-edge design, reflective of the building’s new construction techniques.
Minister Eugen Pritwitzz of Transportation, stood admiring a large, intricately detailed miniature of an airship suspended from the ceiling. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her grin bright but unreadable. “Why, I really like what you’ve done with the place,” she remarked, her heterochromatic eyes gleaming as she took in the scene.
"Thank you," replied Viviana Livingstone, now Minister of Home Affairs. She set her glass of wine down with a soft clink. "It was a gift from my son. He’s studying at Lemradt Polytechnic, and he thought it might suit the aesthetic."
Aside from them, there were other minsters who sat on the couch. Some more laid back, and some more guarded.
Minister Recina Helvia, the Queen of the Empire’s many de jure protectorate states—though, in practice, these territories were little more than annexed provinces. She sat calmly sipping the tea she was served with a calm demeanor. She knew her lands were, in truth, no more than glorified provinces of the Empire.
Leaning back in his chair, Minister Alto Jachs of Military Affairs seemed almost disinterested in the proceedings. He leaned back on the couch and seemed to doze off.
Meanwhile, Minister Ernst Talbott of Agriculture sat with visible discomfort. He had never been at ease in rooms like this, where political scheming took precedence over practical concerns. He fidgeted in his seat, unsure why he had been invited to such a high-stakes meeting.
And finally, the only non-human—Minister Elga Aesir of Arcane Arts. She sat quietly, and without a word. As the only Elf in the room full of human aristocrats, Elga was keenly aware that the decisions made here could shape not only the fate of the Empire but also the lives of her people and countless others who fell under Imperial rule.
Minister Alto Jachs, still lounging with his boots up, cracked open an eye and lazily glanced in Viviana's direction. “Say, that guy is late, isn’t he?”
The person he was referring to was Minister Nay Wels of Foreign Affairs. His easy-going attitude even in serious conditions certainly helped the ministers feel at ease, perhaps that was because of his expertise on diplomacy, the same kind of diplomacy that kept the Empire distance itself from the world, but not too much.
“You know how he is.” Viviana replied, pouring herself more wine.
“Lord Wels has a way of turning up when it matters most. Though it would be nice if he showed that same punctuality here,” Recina remarked coolly as she took a sip of her tea. Her words were sharp, though her tone remained composed, a practiced habit of courtly etiquette. Jachs, reclining lazily in his chair, let out a scoff but said nothing.
The door swung open just then, and Minister Nay Wels strolled in with his usual relaxed air, his briefcase tucked under one arm and a casual smile playing on his lips. Despite the gravity of the situation, his presence had a strange calming effect on the room—a trait that had served him well in countless tense negotiations. His easygoing demeanor, even in the face of mounting crises, seemed to reassure his colleagues that diplomacy, not war, was still the Empire’s greatest strength.
For now.
“Heya, I’m here, guys,” he greeted.
“Speak of the devil,” Jachs muttered, finally sitting up from his usual slouched position, his impatience thinly veiled behind a lazy grin.
Viviana set her wine glass down with a sigh of relief. “Cutting it close, aren’t we?”
Nay shrugged, his smile never wavering. “There’s a war brewing out west, Viviana. Things tend to take a little longer when half the continent’s ready to explode. No, correction—has exploded.”
Recina, raised an eyebrow. “And yet, here you are, looking as untroubled as ever.”
Nay chuckled as he settled into one of the chairs, setting his briefcase down on the table. “I try.”
The room watched in silence as he flipped open the case, revealing a stack of documents, maps, and coded dispatches. “But in all seriousness, we have a situation. The West is becoming more volatile than we anticipated.” He looked around to make sure everyone’s listening. “The Kingdoms led by the Holy City have been routed by the Daemons and have retreated into the Kingdom of Rozafyr. Meanwhile, the Daemons somehow managed to convince the Valkorians and Borians to ally with them, casting aside centuries of rivalry and war.”
Jachs’ grin disappeared. “They’ve what?”
Nay nodded. “I know. It doesn’t look good for us. Our foreign arms sales have dried up. The western kingdoms were our best customers, and now that they’ve been defeated, their orders have vanished. Meanwhile, the Daemons have started buying up Valkorian and Borian weapons—not ours.”
His eyes shifted to Recina. “Which means our foreign reserves—gold, specifically—aren’t flowing into the treasury like they used to.”
Recina set her teacup down carefully, her brow furrowed. “This could cripple our economic leverage.”
Or worse, it would weaken the Imperial Virs.
Though the Virs were a paper currency, their value was pegged to gold, and without foreign reserves flowing in, that value could spiral downward. Worse still, not a single nation outside the Empire accepted the Virs for trade as every import required gold. And with the west in ruins and the Daemons uninterested in trading, the once-reliable source of gold had vanished.
At least Rozafyr still stood. So that’s a plus.
Oblivious to Recina's internal calculations, Nay pressed on, his tone now more pointed. “Aside from the economic impact, the Daemons and their new allies are gearing up for a fresh offensive—this time, their sights are set on Rozafyr. And we all know what happens if they breach that border.”
A murmur of agreement passed through the room, though the implications of Nay’s words were heavier than the ministers seemed willing to acknowledge. The Empire had long adhered to a treaty with the Holy City and the western kingdoms after the last crusade. One key stipulation of that treaty was that Rozafyr would remain independent as a buffer state between the Empire and the west. Any threat to Rozafyr was a direct threat to the Empire’s carefully maintained isolation—and peace.
Viviana leaned back, crossing her arms with a skeptical expression. “So, what’s your brilliant solution, Nay? We’re listening.”
Nay leaned in, grinning. “We let them invade, and then we intervene.”
The room went quiet, the gravity of his words sinking in. Ministers exchanged glances, trying to gauge one another’s reactions. Nay, unperturbed, continued. “Recina, you must realize that the war with the Aquileans, our economy is in the best shape it’s been in years, correct?”
Recina’s remained silent. Waiting for him to elaborate.
Unfazed, Nay pressed on, eyes flicking briefly to Recina as if to coax her agreement. “Unemployment? At an all-time low. Productivity? Sky-high. The stockholders are seeing record returns on their investments. War bonds? They’ve put money in the hands of the people. We’ve had an economic renaissance thanks to war”
He was right. The Empire’s coffers had swollen with the profits of war. Factories hummed day and night, military contracts fed entire industries, and the Imperial Virs had retained its strength—for now.
Viviana was the first to break the silence. “And why, exactly, are you suggesting we jump into another war in the middle of our current war?”
Nay’s gaze swept the room, his voice steady. “Because, Viviana, war is profitable. It’s as simple as that. The longer it drags on—so long as we don’t stumble into a catastrophe—the better it is for our economy.”
The ministers exchanged uneasy glances. Everyone knew it, even if they wouldn’t say it outright: War was good for business.
“That’s a hawkish stance for a diplomat.” Elga Aesir, the elven Minister of Arcane Arts, finally broke her silence, her voice tight with annoyance.
Nay turned to Elga. “I’m a realist, Elga. Peace is always preferable, but we’re beyond that now. The Daemons won’t stop at Rozafyr, and if we stand idly by, we’ll find ourselves in a worse position later. We need to control the conflict—dictate its terms. And if we profit in the process? All the better for the Empire.”
“Okay…” Viviana sighed as she rolled her eyes. “Even if we ignore the fact that opening a second front is a terrible idea, we are not going to war—”
“Ah, ah, Viviana,” Nay interrupted, a finger raised in mock correction. “Let’s not forget that our sovereign holds the title Apostolic Queen of Rozafyr.”
Viviana’s eyes narrowed, recognizing where this was going. “You’re saying we have a legal obligation?”
Nay grinned. “It’s more than legal, Viviana. It’s symbolic. Rozafyr is not just a buffer state—it’s a part of the Empire’s legacy. Our Empress’ authority over Rozafyr ties us to its fate, and any attack on Rozafyr is an attack on our sovereign territory.”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the ministers. The weight of Nay’s argument began to take hold, even in the minds of his skeptics.
“So, you’re proposing we intervene as a defensive measure?” Eugen spoke up after a while, her voice breaking the tension. “To defend Rozafyr’s sovereignty—and, by extension, the Empire’s. If we uphold our treaty, we justify our involvement on the world stage. Is that what you’re getting at?”
“Exactly,” Nay affirmed, his grin returning, clearly pleased with himself.
“A clever idea I admit,” Eugen crossed her arms. “But as you say, we’re not only going to fight the Daemons, we’re also going to fight their new friends. We’re talking about the Valkorian Kingdom and the Borian Tsardom—both with modern, well-equipped militaries and combat experience.”
Nay didn’t miss a beat. “That’s where strategy comes in. We don’t jump in with all our forces—no need to throw everything at the problem. We start small but smart. We arm Rozafyr with weapons. The Hero’s party could use some new equipment, too. They’ve proven effective, and arming them would strengthen our position on the ground.”
Recina raised an eyebrow. “You want to funnel military support through Rozafyr and the Hero’s party while keeping our own forces in reserve?”
“Exactly,” Nay said, leaning forward. “It gives us a buffer. We strengthen Rozafyr, making it harder for the Daemons and their allies to overwhelm them. At the same time, we assess the situation from a distance. If the conflict escalates, we have the advantage of time and preparation. We’re not committing ourselves too early, but we’re positioning ourselves to act swiftly if needed.”
Viviana shook her head, muttering, “Geopolitics…” before letting out a sigh. “I suppose we should put this to a vote. All in favor?”
All hands were up in the air, except for Elga’s.
Viviana’s gaze swept the room. “You get to vote too, Talbott.”
“Huh?” The Minister of Agriculture seemed to doze off. “Oh, right… I’m in favor.”
Viviana’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked over the room again. “Looks like a majority.”
A majority, even when only half of the Ministers of the entire cabinet are here.
“Excellent.” Nay unceremoniously leaned back on the couch. “Go ahead and tell that Beastmen we have as our Prime Minister about the plan. She should have read the report I sent to her.”
Viviana shot a sharp glance at Nay. "The Prime Minister," she emphasized, her tone clipped, "is not just some 'Beastman.' Show some respect."
Nay shrugged, unfazed. "Respect or not, she needs to be informed.”
She has, in fact, hasn’t read the report yet. Even after a week had passed. Or the week after as the documents continue to pile up.
----------------------------------------
Meanwhile, far away from the mainland, far from the bureaucrats and aristocrats lavish dealings and decision-making, the real war was taking place.
There is a saying that Valyrya only has two allies, It’s Army and its navy.
The great blue had seemed unconquerable to their ancestors, with the depths teeming with ancient monsters and unknown dangers. Now, those very depths were at war between to great powers.
BOOM!
Another Aquilean ship erupted in the distance, shattered by a battery shell. It didn't sink, though—not truly. The Aquilean vessels were crafted with the magic of their underwater world, returned to their natural state, the wreckage regenerating after a set period. Still, it was better than letting them roam around.
Fleet Admiral Canaris stood tall on the deck, watching as his fleet pushed deeper into enemy waters. Their goal wasn’t just to destroy ships but to reach the heart of the Aquilean civilization—their ancient aquatic cities, hidden in the ocean’s depths.
The water fought back. Strange, unnatural tides pulled at the Valyrian ships, as if the ocean itself resented their presence. But Valyrya’s Navy was as unyielding as hunks of steel floating in the body of water.
His fleet of Battlecruisers cut through the waves easily. They had trained for this moment, prepared to face the mystical forces of the deep. They learned—as do the Aquileans—from the previous four wars they fought. Doctrines were well set in place by now, all it needed now was to utilize tactics as effectively as possible.
The war against the Aquileans had always been a messy affair. The Empire lacked the manpower or the capability to truly invade and occupy an Aquilean city, considering their cities were submerged far beneath the surface. And, in turn, the Aquileans, while formidable beneath the waves, were at a grave disadvantage on land. Every attempt to invade the Coroner Islands had ended in failure, their soldiers being repelled by the superior land-dwelling forces of Valyrya. The Aquileans’ dependence on water made them glaringly vulnerable once they set foot on dry land.
In short, neither side could conquer the other in their own territory.
But this time, it will be different.
“Admiral! Depth charges at the ready!” Canaris’ first officer barked, snapping a sharp salute.
Canaris leaned against the railing, his eyes locked on the shimmering blue abyss below. Just beneath the surface lay the Aquilean city, glittering like a submerged jewel in the depths. The city, which had never seen destruction in its long history, was about to face Valyrya's wrath.
"Launch the charges," Canaris ordered, his voice steady and calm. He had no need to raise it—his crew were veterans, disciplined and efficient. They knew their roles.
The depth charges were dropped, vanishing into the dark waters below. Seconds ticked by as the tension mounted. The Admiral's gaze remained fixed on the rippling surface, waiting.
Suddenly, the sea rumbled. The depth charges exploded far below, sending massive shockwaves through the water. The city beneath trembled, its protective barrier shimmering under the pressure. For the first time, Canaris saw cracks forming along the edges of the shimmering dome that protected the underwater metropolis.
“Continue launching the charges. Empty our reserves,” Canaris ordered, his hands gripped the railing, eyes fixed on the churning water.
“Aye, sir!” The crew moved swiftly, their movements mechanical in their precision. One by one, more charges were dropped into the depths, the ocean swallowing them whole.
So far, he’d met minimal resistance from the Aquileans. What worried him was the location of the rest of the Aquilean fleet, as he only encountered around seven.
Another wave of detonations rocked the sea. The tremors were more intense this time, the barrier visibly splintering under the sustained assault. Water churned violently, and for the first time, Canaris could see parts of the city below—its towering spires, glowing faintly beneath the broken shield.
“Admiral,” the first officer called, voice steady but urgent. “The barrier’s on the verge of collapse.”
Canaris nodded, never taking his eyes off the ocean. "Good. Continue the bombardment."
“Admiral! Enemy movement detected,” another crew member shouted as he gripped the railing. "Something... something’s coming up fast!"
The surface of the water began to churn unnaturally, bubbling as if something massive stirred beneath it. Canaris’s jaw tightened.
The sea churned violently as the Aquilean ships broke through the surface, sleek and menacing, their strange, organic designs glistening with ocean water. Like predators rising from the deep, they moved with a fluid grace that made them appear almost alive. Their cannons swiveled in unison, locking onto Canaris’s fleet.
“Ready all cannons!” Canaris’s voice rang out with a calm authority. The crew scrambled into action, their movements efficient and practiced, battle-hardened from years of naval warfare—mostly against the Aquileans, who else?
The Aquilean ships struck first, their cannons unleashing a terrifying barrage. Explosions ripped through the water, geysers of salt crashing down over the Valyrian fleet, drenching the decks. Still, Canaris did not flinch.
“Return fire!” he barked.
The Valyrian cannons thundered in response, their shells streaking across the horizon toward the glimmering hulls of the Aquilean ships. Fire and steel clashed, filling the air with a thick fog of smoke and the stinging scent of burning gunpowder.
“Admiral, they’re trying to encircle us!” shouted the first officer, his voice edged with urgency.
Canaris saw it. The Aquilean vessels were fast, their sleek forms cutting through the water like knives, using the ocean’s unnatural currents to their advantage. They were moving to flank them, a classic Aquilean maneuver—closing the noose.
"Hold the line! We’re crossing the T!" Canaris ordered. "Don’t let them box us in!"
The Valyrian fleet maneuvered swiftly, adjusting their positions to maintain their line. The "T" formation was a classic naval tactic, designed to maximize the firepower of their broadside cannons while denying the Aquileans a full flank. But the Aquilean ships, with their agility and the magic-infused waters, were relentless.
"Keep them at bay! Focus on the lead vessels!" Canaris’s command cut through the tumult of the battlefield. He watched the Aquilean ships as they darted in and out of the smoke, their coral-encrusted hulls blending with the shimmering sea, ghostlike in their movement.
Suddenly, explosions rocked the Valyrian fleet. A direct hit struck a ship on the right flank, the impact sending splintered wood and metal into the air. By sheer luck, the blast missed the shell storage, avoiding a catastrophic detonation.
"Steady, men! Hold the line!" Canaris roared. Despite the damage, the Valyrian gunners did not falter. Their cannons continued to roar, firing volley after volley into the enemy fleet. The sea between the two forces churned with wreckage and bodies as the battle raged, neither side willing to give an inch.
The Aquileans were closing in now, their swift ships weaving through the gaps in the formation. One particularly sleek vessel angled for a vulnerable spot in the Valyrian line, attempting to break through the T-formation.
“Focus fire on that ship!” Canaris commanded, pointing toward the approaching threat. The nearest Valyrian cannons turned in unison, unleashing a barrage of fire. Explosions ripped through the Aquilean ship, splintering its coral hull. But before it sank beneath the waves, it let loosed a final volley of shots, one striking a Valyrian ship at close range. The deck erupted into flames.
“Damage control, now!” Canaris barked, watching as the crew of the ship scrambled to put out the fires. They were holding, but barely.
The first officer appeared beside him, his face drawn with tension. “Admiral, they’re pressing hard. If they break through—”
“They won’t break through,” Canaris cut him off. He stared out over the battlefield, his jaw clenched. The Aquilean ships were regrouping, adjusting their positioning for another assault, but Canaris had no intention of letting them close the gap.
According to orthodox naval tactics, Canaris knew that if the formation collapsed, it would mean disaster. The swift Aquilean ships would seize every opening, exploiting their speed to strike at vulnerable spots. But orthodox tactics wouldn't be enough to counter the enemy’s agility and arcane-fueled advantage.
"We’ll deny them that advantage," Canaris muttered. "Prepare smoke screens. Reposition our ships for evasive maneuvers."
The crew moved swiftly, deploying the smoke screens as ordered. Thick plumes of smoke began to rise, obscuring the Valyrian ships from view and forcing the Aquilean vessels to hesitate, unsure of their targets. The Valyrian fleet began to reposition, shifting the formation to confuse the enemy.
Amid the cover, Canaris knew these next moments were pivotal. The Aquileans, though momentarily confused, were still deadly. Their ships, imbued with magical currents could cut through the water with unnatural speed. But now, the Valyrians had the element of surprise. The smokescreen would conceal their movements, and in the confusion, they could launch a decisive strike.
"Focus fire on their flagship!" Canaris barked.
He had spotted it—an Aquilean vessel that dwarfed the others, its imposing presence unmistakable even through the haze. The flagship, bristling with cannons and coral armor, was the heart of their fleet, and Canaris had no doubt it was equipped with the same devastating weapon that had sunk the VIS Unsinkable in a previous encounter. Its destruction would be a crippling blow to the Aquileans, one that could break their morale and turn the tide of battle decisively.
Or so he hoped.
The Valyrian gunners, despite the chaos around them, swung their cannons into position, aligning them toward the massive target. Through the gaps in the smoke, Canaris could see the flagship looming, its dark silhouette cutting through the fog like a predator hunting for prey.
"All batteries, fire at will!" Canaris commanded, his voice cutting through the din.
The first volley erupted from the Valyrian fleet, cannon fire thundering through the smoke. Explosions blossomed across the surface of the water, and the first few shots found their mark, slamming into the flagship’s armored hull. The massive vessel shuddered, but it didn’t slow. Instead, the Aquilean flagship responded with a retaliatory broadside, its own cannons roaring in defiance.
A deafening explosion rocked the air as the flagship’s weapon fired—a beam of pure energy, cutting through the smoke and striking one of the Valyrian ships. The VIS Imperious was hit, its hull splitting apart as the energy beam carved through it with terrifying precision. The ship listed dangerously to one side, its crew scrambling as the vessel began to sink beneath the waves.
"Stay focused!" Canaris shouted, refusing to let the destruction of one ship shake the resolve of his crew. "Keep firing!"
The Valyrian fleet responded with renewed ferocity, their cannons hammering the flagship with volley after volley. One of the shots penetrated the flagship’s armor, and a secondary explosion erupted from within its decks. The Aquilean ship staggered, its coral hull cracking under the relentless assault.
"Another broadside!" Canaris ordered.
The Aquilean fleet, sensing the vulnerability of their flagship, surged forward in a desperate bid to shield it from further destruction. Sleek coral ships maneuvered with unnerving precision, positioning themselves in front of the retreating vessel as if forming a living barricade. Their hulls shimmered with enchantments, and their cannons, though smaller, opened fire to suppress the Valyrian onslaught.
"Admiral, they're covering the flagship's retreat!"
Canaris narrowed his eyes, watching the unfolding maneuver. The Aquileans were throwing everything they had to save their flagship, but that move only revealed how critical it was to their strategy. If they could cripple it completely, the enemy fleet would crumble.
"They're panicking. Focus fire on their escorts!" Canaris commanded.
The Valyrian gunners shifted their aim, adjusting their cannons toward the encroaching Aquilean ships. A fresh wave of cannon fire roared from the Valyrian fleet, the sky flashing with the fiery arcs of their volleys. The smaller Aquilean ships were agile, darting in and out of the smoke, but they couldn’t dodge everything. Several were caught in the barrage—one splintered under a direct hit, its magical hull breaking apart in a shower of coral debris, while another limped away, smoke pouring from its stern.
"Don’t let them regroup!" Canaris bellowed. "We’ve got them on the run!"
The Valyrian fleet pressed forward, their ships advancing into the smoke-filled waters. Cannons thundered from both sides as the battle escalated to a chaotic crescendo. The Aquilean escorts, though formidable, were no match for the concentrated firepower of the Valyrian fleet. One by one, they began to fall back, their once-coordinated movements now devolving into disorder.
"Admiral," the first officer said, his voice tense but steady, "the flagship is attempting to withdraw by submerging! If they make it, they’ll slip away."
"Of course they are," Canaris muttered, his frustration mounting. The Aquilean ships, with their coral-encrusted, semi-biological designs, were perfectly suited for underwater combat. A retreat into the depths would give them an overwhelming advantage, making any pursuit almost impossible for the surface-bound Valyrian fleet.
But Canaris wasn’t about to let them slip away so easily.
"Signal the Imperator and Judgment—full speed ahead!" Canaris ordered. "We’re cutting them off before they submerge! Focus fire!”
The crew sprang into action as Canaris’ flagship surged forward, the battlecruisers cut through the smoke and debris like a spearhead. Other ships followed, their engines roaring to life as they chased the retreating Aquilean flagship.
"Admiral," the first officer spoke again, his voice lower, "the enemy flagship is powering its weapon again. They’re preparing another energy shot."
Canaris stared through the haze of battle, eyes locking onto the faint glow building around the Aquilean flagship’s coral-encrusted hull. It was unmistakable—their main weapon, a devastating energy beam, was charging. His jaw tightened. This was their last desperate move, a final attempt to turn the tide of the battle before retreating into the depths.
He had to make a choice. Closing the distance now meant taking a high-risk shot at the flagship's vulnerable systems, potentially scoring a critical hit and securing the kill. But if the energy beam fired, they could lose more than a ship—his experienced sailors and further damaged his fleet.
“Admiral?” the first officer’s voice held a trace of hesitation.
Canaris weighed his options quickly. The price of victory could easily become too steep. They had crippled the Aquilean fleet and sent their flagship into retreat. More damage would only risk his own fleet’s safety, especially with the enemy weapon already primed.
His decision came swift and final.
"Deploy the smoke screens! We’re retreating!"
The crew moved with speed and precision, launching thick plumes of smoke that rapidly obscured the battlefield. The Valyrian ships, still locked in formation, began to peel away from the front line, their engines rumbling as they turned to withdraw.
The Aquilean flagship, now fully charged, fired its weapon. A brilliant beam of energy shot forth, slicing through the air like a spear of light, but it missed its mark. The Valyrian ships were already lost in the cover of the smoke, and the beam dissipated harmlessly into the sea.
----------------------------------------
Far from the naval battlefield.
"Honey, the truck is here..." Clara's voice wavered as she peered through the cracked window, her fingers nervously gripping the curtain. Outside, a military truck idled, waiting for her husband.
"I'm coming," Herman replied, his voice steady though his steps were heavy. He slung a worn-out duffel bag over his shoulder, carrying what few essentials he'd packed. Enlisting in the army at his age—well into his 30s—hadn't been an easy choice. But for their daughter, it had to be done.
The tuition at Valerian Academy was steep, too steep for a commoner family like theirs. But the military offered a path—a discount for the children of soldiers, along with steady pay and benefits that could ease the burden. It was worth it, he told himself. Everything for Anna.
Still, as he glanced around the small, dimly lit home, a pang of regret hit him. Anna wasn’t there to say goodbye. Maybe it was better that way, he reasoned. It would’ve been harder if she’d seen him leave. But a small part of him wondered—Where on earth had she run off to? Shouldn’t she be here?
Clara’s soft voice broke the silence. "Are you sure about this, Herman?" She turned to face him, her eyes filled with concern. "It’s not too late to change your mind..."
Herman gave her a gentle smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "I’m sure. It’s the only way." He paused, his grip tightening on the strap of his bag. "For Anna."
Clara’s voice trembled as she asked, “But what if you get… killed?” Her words hung in the air, filled with the fear she’d been holding back for weeks.
Herman stopped, turning to face her fully. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, his touch firm but reassuring. “No, don’t worry,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “I’m not joining the Navy, Clara. The Army isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I’ll be stationed close to home, and it's mostly routine work. I’m not exactly on the front lines.”
Clara swallowed. “Are you sure? Promise me then.”
Herman paused, his eyes softening as he looked at Clara. He reached out, gently taking her hands in his. “I promise,” he said quietly, his voice steady, though his heart weighed heavy with the uncertainty that lingered between them.
Clara squeezed his hands tightly, as if holding on to the promise would make it more real, more certain. “You better keep that promise,” she whispered, her voice barely holding back the emotion that threatened to break through.
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I will. For you and for Anna.”
“Mom! Dad! What’s with the military guys?” Anna came home it seems. By the looks of it, the fifteen-year-old had quite the adventurer around the city.
Herman froze mid-step, turning to see Anna standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with curiosity as she glanced at the military truck and then back at her parents. Clara stiffened beside him, caught off guard by their daughter’s sudden return.
“Anna, sweetheart…” Clara began, her voice soft but hesitant. She shot a glance at Herman, silently pleading for help.
Herman took a deep breath and crouched down to be at eye level with Anna. “Hey, kiddo. I, uh… I’m going to be away for a while,” he said carefully. “I’ve decided to join the army.”
Anna blinked, her face twisting in confusion. “Wait, what? Why? You’re not a soldier.”
Herman forced a small smile. “I know, but it’s a chance for us to make sure you can go to the Valerian Academy. It’s important, Anna. This is how I can help you get there.”
Anna frowned, her adventurous spirit seeming to fade as reality hit her. “But… you don’t have to leave for that, do you?” Her voice wavered. “I sent the scholarship application at Mr. Louis’ post office, you don’t have to leave.”
He sighed softly, cupping Anna’s cheek. “I’m proud of you for applying, Anna. I really am. But we can’t count on that scholarship, and the Academy is expensive. This is the best way to make sure you get the education you deserve.”
He gave her a reassuring pat on the head, offering a small smile despite the lump forming in his throat. "I’ll be back before you know it."
But Anna’s response took him by surprise. She threw her arms around him, holding him tighter than ever before. "You better be..." she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.
Herman closed his eyes, his hand stroking her hair in gentle, comforting motions. "I will."
It’s only a year and a half, he thought, trying to convince himself as much as his family. How bad could it possibly be?
Clara stood behind them, silently watching, her arms folded as if trying to hold herself together. She cleared her throat softly, and Herman pulled away from Anna, meeting his wife's gaze.
"We’ll write you every day," Clara said, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "And you’d better write back just as often."
Herman chuckled softly. "You won’t be able to get rid of me that easily."
As they shared a quiet moment, the sound of the truck’s engine rumbling to life outside cut through the silence, reminding them all that time was running out. Herman kissed Anna’s forehead one last time and rose to his feet, picking up his bag with a heavy heart.
Anna looked up at him, eyes wide and glistening. "Dad... just promise me you’ll come back."
"I promise, Anna."
With one final look, he turned and headed toward the door.