Was this the only way out of this predicament? The promised future of a better tomorrow loomed at the back of Swaine’s mind as he took another step forward. The Crimson Imperial Hall, where he spent his youth playing with his siblings, looked the same, except he was alone now. The title of “Crown Prince” bestowed upon him meant that this solemn undertaking of relaying this proclamation rested on his shoulder.

“There is no other way, isn’t it?” Exuding a long, drawn-out breath, he steadied himself for his impending task.

Swaine knew the king only looked at him as a petulant child, not a prince ready for responsibilities within the Empire. Hence, that fueled him to stray off the golden path, a decision the elders of his bloodline warned about, for the consequences extended beyond the spectrum of life and death.

Since his youth, he had undergone the customary training of those carrying the Drazen blood. This formal training had a limited scope–sword fighting to familiarity with firearms–and even the nitty-gritty noble procedures of ballroom dancing and wine-tasting. That begs the question: what good were these skills compared to today’s modern warfare?

“Your duties as the next-in-line to the throne far outweigh the noblemen we employ in court.”

“But, father–”

“The time for war has long passed, for we now live in an era of peace. As the Empire’s descendants, we only need to maintain foreign relations with our neighbours. Diplomacy is the name of the game we play.

“Fath–”

“Enough! One day, you will understand…”

His father, the king, believed in the promise set aside thirty years ago with the cursed survivors of the technocratic regime.

How foolish.

Gazing out, Swaine soaked in the sprawling landscape engulfing the unending green plains. The Empire’s rebuilding efforts had not gone as smoothly as expected, but there was still some progress. If the castle grounds looked this catastrophic, one could only imagine what the rest of the continent had become since the fall.

Somehow, animals were spared from the collapse, for the machines of destruction never saw them as targets. The abandoned tracks and trains in the depot littered around the castle grounds reminded the survivors of their fallen predecessors’ mistakes.

Who was at fault for the catastrophic event? North Atlantea.

The North’s constant pursuit of progression led to the rapid rise of technological marvels the human race has not seen since the mythical tale of Atlantis. The synchronicity resembled one another as both expanded forward until they eventually fell apart.

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North Atlantea stood as the pinnacle of world superiority in the previous era as countries started assimilating themselves into its ecosystem. Even the old Drazen, under the Fifteen Council’s rule, fell prey to the seductive whispers of the North. Before the revival of the Drazen Empire, this group of shadowy bureaucrats had ruled the lands via a revolution by overthrowing the old Imperial Faction.

These bureaucrats had only one goal: to give power back to the people from “lazy nobles” who, they claimed, wished to profit off the back of the working class. The former subjects of the Drazen Empire turned into citizens longing for equality and progress; in doing so, they forgot about individualism and tradition, transforming them into mindless drones who relied on the state's handouts by exchanging their sovereignty for it.

Eventually, the day finally arrived when the Singularity War spread to the doors of Drazen, knocking it down and annihilating the unsuspecting citizens of the failed democratic regime.

Flags of the noble houses within the Drazen Empire draped down from the high corners of the Imperial Hall. Only two stood out–the flag of House Drazen–and another who chose to remain in the shadows.

As foretold in ages past, the Drazen Empire had finally revived from the ashes, united in blood and purpose, where the banners had unified as one with the Empire’s newly commissioned flag.

Riding his mythical stallion, Swaine’s father and his fellow noblemen purged their homeland from the influence of the Fifteen Council’s regime and the plague of civil unrest. Taking over the reins as the undisrupted rulers of the newly christened Drazen Empire, the continent finally saw imperial rule after a century.

But.

There’s always a but.

That was the official story told to the masses.

Swaine had discovered the truth recently, leading him down the left-hand path to seek knowledge only accessible to his bloodline’s inner circle. He clenched his left fist, which had become replaced by a silver claw-like glove covering the scars of his momentous choice.

In moments, he would address a nation as torn and wrecked as the Empire he would eventually inherit. A new form of governance saw the unification of Atlantea into one superstate. This unified Atlantea maintained diplomatic ties with the Empire but was severed when their collaboration turned sour thirteen years ago.

The team he handpicked for the Drazen Empire’s new reign took him longer than expected, for its complexity was akin to finding several unique needles in a haystack.

“Your Highness, all preparations are ready. We can begin whenever you are!”

“Thank you, my squire. Please take some time to take a break, I know you have been working hard since dawn.” Waving his hand, Swaine acknowledged his squire’s hard work.

“Yes, your Highness!"

It was surreal to see a mixture of guards and civilians together, something that would never happen a hundred years ago. The guards wore armour, with weapons stored at the waist, whereas the civilians wore plain shirts and pants, a dressing style from the Fifteen Council’s influence of modernity.

Regardless of his subjects’ respective code of conduct, they believed in the king and his promise to restore the Drazen Empire to its former glory. That, to him, mattered above all. The old age of relying on military prowess had proved insufficient; their Empire’s bloodied past taught him just that. For the Drazen Empire to rule this realm undisputedly, embracing and utilising the hidden arts became part of the winning formula.

The painstaking task of assembling the peak in physical and combat prowess from each noble house now assembled in his revived Imperial Faction.

The brightest minds possessing the lost arts during the Fifteen Council’s era littered across the continent congregate in his Imperial Research Labs.

The time has finally arrived to deliver a message for the Drazen Empire’s next renaissance: a proclamation of war.

And the recipient? The United Atlantea Federation.