Black-haired Anarchia sat in her room. A small place in north-eastern Esberia, close to the southern Rancais border, with dirty walls and cracking floors, this place was about to collapse. But Esberia had a beautiful Sun, plentiful fruit and the best weather on Arda. Sleeping under the stars was nothing but a blessing. One of her followers had brought a stolen laptop, apparently she would want to see this.

And see it she did. She watched the Rancais vote to separate from the White Pantheon. An utter sham of democracy, the fate of a nation decided by the majority of a single room. She watched Aimone proclaim his love for Rilia. A farce, as if the man knew every person in his kingdom personally. She watched the Lubskan Sejm be stormed by an angry mob, the hangings that took place after. That was a fire whipped up by Jozef, to burn down so he could rebuild. She saw King Richard VI and his wife Eleanor read off a millennia of the Pantheon’s failing, reducing the victims of those tragedies to nothing but empty propaganda. And King Wissel, ever pragmatic, ever logical, ever so correct. Who could disagree with him? Doschia deserved its own freedom after all.

Anarchia sat there, and she wanted to weep. The expulsion of the White Pantheon from Epa should have been a day of celebration. A loosening of the tight collars around people’s necks. She wanted an end to the White Pantheon just as much as all of them did.

But not like this.

‘No one leaves this room until we figure out a plan on what to do.’ Maisara had said that. Maisara had indeed said that. Indeed Maisara had said that. So Fortia sat in her marble throne. One of fourteen. When they had returned to Olympiada, it had been silent. Neneria’s assault had killed some twenty thousand, they were largely Allasaria’s servants and Seekers, but Fortia had a few of her own Guardians too.

So Kirinyaa had utterly devastated them. Fortia knew it would be difficult without Leona. Kassandora had singlehandedly guided Arascus’ Legions so well that a war which should have been an easy summer campaign turned into a conflict between three worlds. Leona had been invaluable. Her omniscience touched everything and anything. But that had been a thousand years ago. Fortia… Fortia didn’t know what to think. Kassandora had only been free for a few months when the Pantheon had made its move. Fortia had helped build this world, she knew exactly what each nation was capable, she knew how and where to strike to shut down industry, there were only four real armies on Arda. The White Pantheon possessed three of them, and the Clerics had always been weaker than the Seekers, Guardians or Paladins.

Well, it was five armies now, with Kirinyaa’s own military.

What did that change though? The White Pantheon still effortlessly outnumbered Kassandora’s forces. In terms of magic, in terms of manpower, in terms of industry. The only advantage Kassandora had were her new toys and her mind. Fortia didn’t know what to think. That technological gap shouldn’t have been an issue when Arcadia had so many mages and Olympiada had so many minor Divines.

And yet they had lost.

And now five countries had just expelled the White Pantheon from their borders. And it wasn’t five Arikan nations. It was five Epan states, how Arascus had achieved that, Fortia had no damn clue. Maybe this was why Kassandora had been so passive in her campaign. Fortia had thought the woman was merely timid of Olympiada’s numbers and conserving her own, but now she saw it. The war of attrition had removed a third of Maisara’s men. A quarter of Fortia’s. Arcadia was left without a Goddess. It had all but closed its doors to the White Pantheon, every response being one of ‘We shall await Goddess Elassa to lead us.’ Fortia saw the plan now, and she did not know what to think.

So Fortia sat in that grand yet empty, tremendous yet cold, inspiring yet dying room that made up the White Pantheon’s discussion room. A circle, with massive doors that could fit two Allasaria’s each on each hour mark. Pillars were spread out in a circle, holding up the golden dome of a ceiling as Elassa’s magical lamps up the air. Fortia leaned back and retreated further into her cold stone throne as she looked at the others in the room.

Fourteen thrones. With what should be fourteen Divines. But Atis was dead. Thirteen. Iniri, Kavaa and Helenna had turned traitor. Ten. Elassa had been captured. Nine. Leona was dead or missing. Eight. Allasaria was dead or missing. Seven. Saranael had long since gone insane. Six.

Of the fourteen original founding members, only six were left. True, they had gained Sceo, but Sceo wasn’t an original member so did she even count? She sat in the throne next to Zerus. Her in a dark blue dress, tall and proud, with downcast eyes. Zerus in white outlined with gold. He mirrored Fortia’s posture, simply collapsing back into his marble throne, simply staring up at the ceiling through his bushy eyes.

Alkom was on the other side of the God of Lightning. Tall and thin, in a robe of gold. All the light from his eyes had burned out. Theosius was on the other side of the room. With wide shoulders and thick arms bulging with veins, but with a tired look about his face. His black hair down his body, and he had only came in his working outfit, still charred from the forges.

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And then Maisara and Fortia, both in their armours. Maisara in silver, Fortia in gold. The thrones swallowed them as they sat in their battle-skirts. Maisara’s was still damaged from an engagement on a front, where an artillery shell had almost hit her. Fortia had sent her own to be repaired by Theosius. ‘No one leaves this room until we figure out a plan on what to do.’ That was the issue. No one knew what to do.

Fortia sat there, for she didn’t know how long. A day maybe? A week? It couldn’t have been longer than a day, but no one wanted to say anything. She hated Allasaria’s attitude, she utterly despised the haughty Goddess of Light. But she had to give credit where credit was due. Allasaria, for all her flaws, did keep the White Pantheon functioning for a millennia.

Less than a year had passed since Allasaria and Leona had disappeared. In that time, what had happened? Olephia had been freed. Arascus had made himself a hero in Ausa. Kassandora had established an iron grip over Kirinyaa’s hearts and minds, this coup of hers was merely the final culmination of that. There wasn’t a single trace of rebellion they could instil. Maybe Helenna could, but Helenna, along with Iniri and Kavaa, had switched sides to Arascus. That meant an entire quarter of the White Pantheon’s military forces had gone with Kavaa. Elassa had somehow been defeated. Arcadia had been attacked. Anassa was freed. Fer was running rabid. Waeh was dead. The Peacekeeping operation into Kirinyaa had been lost. And now Epa was gone.

Just like that.

In a mere year, under Fortia’s and Maisara’s leadership, the White Pantheon had crumbled down to mere remains of what it once stood. In a single mere year, Fortia and Maisara had basically driven it into the dirt. It would have been easier if Kassandora had just killed her, then at least Fortia could have had a hero’s death. Instead she had been left alive to manage ashes.

Finally, of all people, Theosius broke the silence. “We give up Arika.” He said grimly, his voice a low rumble as if it was a giant bumblebee. Fortia looked to Maisara, Maisara looked to Fortia. Silver eyes met ones of gold.

Sceo straightened her posture. “And what then? Do we march on Epa to keep it in the fold?”

“It is obvious Arascus will send support to Epa.” Maisara said. “We cannot ease the pressure off on Arika.” Fortia nodded, the Goddess of Order was correct. There was nothing to bicker about here, arguments were a luxury. One they had ran out of when Allasaria and Leona had gone missing. And so the silence returned, although it was only for a moment this time.

“Then we let Epa go and continue the embargoes.” Theosius spoke up again. “Something has to be cut, we cannot afford a two front war.”

“Epa is my main recruitment ground.” Maisara said coldly and Theosius sighed.

“There is no situation out of this without giving something up.” He said. And he was correct, but what was there to give up? Every day spent with Kassandora and Arascus out there was a day longer they had to prepare. Yet how could they strike at Arascus with Epa missing?

“We realign efforts to the UNN and Guguo.” Sceo said and Zerus sighed.

“That could work.” Alkom quickly chipped in. “Both of them are bigger economies than Epa.”

“Epa left because we were focused on it.” Maisara said. “We have no precedent for interfering with either Guguo or the UNN, no laws or decrees to force them to bend us to. They like us only because we aren’t there.” Maisara said as she crossed her arms. The Goddess of Order looked around the room with angry eyes. “Well? I’m right, aren’t I? We’re not popular.”

“Speak for yourself.” Sceo said.

“I will not argue with you Sceo.” Maisara started in an angry tone. Fortia did not let her finish say whatever she was about to, instead, she laid her hand on Maisara’s, Zerus put his own Sceo’s. The two somehow managed to calm down.

“The time for arguments has passed.” Fortia said.

“I think we can all agree on that.” Zerus said, he sighed. “Just so you know, I do not blame the two of you for this state. You did not kill Allasaria, nor were you here when Kassandora was freed.”

“Thank you Zerus.” Fortia said. She with-held her own snarky reply, Kassandora was only free because the man had not struck down Iniri and Kavaa and Helenna when he had the chance.

“Something has to go.” Maisara said. “Because the situation is untenable. We can fight and win against Epa. Kirinyaa has already proven itself against us.” Fortia sighed. They needed a baseline of strategy, if for nothing, then to serve as a start to work off.

“Kirinyaa will need to be a war of attrition. Not the quick strike we were hoping for with the quick death of Kassandora. We will need to throw enough blood at her to drown her in it.” Fortia sighed. “The simple reality of the situation is that the world is still on our side, and Kassandora only has a single nation. Kirinyaa can be purged.” She looked around the room at the empty thrones and the shocked expressions at what she just said.

“We swore never to purge again…” Zerus said slowly. He didn’t finish the sentence. A knock on the door and shouting outside of the meeting room killed all discussion. The two huge marble doors, unopened since the remnants of the White Pantheon had entered here, slowly began to swing.

One by one, they revealed a small crowd, although Fortia recognised all of them. Ancient faces, ones that had aided them in the Great War, and then been allowed to keep their lands as a reward for their loyalty. The Divines that still ruled kingdoms. Of the great undersea kingdoms, of Alanktyda’s centralized Alanktia. The mad concoction of kingdoms, duchies and baronies that made up Uriamel located in the ocean that Kirinyaa itself sat on. And more yet, hovering in the air, with bird wings that burned with flames. Those were new, from Pichqasuyu. The nation of five, far south of the UNN. Fortia had rarely interacted with them before, they were Allasaria’s fans, not hers.

And in the middle of them, shining like a star in the night. Pale and golden-haired and in a dress of pure white, stood the Goddess of Light.

Fortia did not know if she wanted to cower or flee or hide in shame or face execution. But she looked upon that central figure and she felt what she felt when Arascus had started his mad conquests. Scourge of Darkness, Night’s Bane, Lightbringer. The titles summed her up, but as Fortia looked upon stern but smiling Allasaria, she only saw the walking embodiment of hope stride in.

- - - End of Arc 7: Dreams of Empire - - -