[center][h2][color=pink]The Republic of the Andraxi People[/color][/h2]
[img]http://img10.deviantart.net/7832/i/2016/336/2/d/flag_of_the_neo_japanese_empire_by_wolfmoon25-daqcz8q.png[/img][/center]

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[center][sup]January, 1500[/sup][/center]

The flowers were in bloom. Those stunningly pink blossoms surrounded the a great walls of Kurotari. It would have been a much beautiful sight of the mountain city had it not been surrounded by legions of rebels, flying the banner of democracy and freedom. The city, however, flew banners of religion and oppression of all the people that dared live in the once peaceful lands. Both wanted for the civil war to end. 

One man sat on a in front of a small table, a sign of parlay in the Andraxi culture, awaiting another man dressed in white robes to come out of the city. The two were silent once the meeting began, staring at one another with hatred filled within their eyes. Neither wanted to negotiate with the other, but it was a necessity should the violence stop on that day. “Saitou Kakeru, I would say it is an honor to meet you should our situation be different,” chimed the white robed one. A silent nod came from the rebellious leader, simply staring and listening to the shaman. “We both know what a siege would mean.” Another nod. “Deaths of many, it would leave both of us weak to foreigners.” A final nod.

“Then let us end it now with an honourable duel, my champion against yours,” finally said the warlord, Saitou, his antennae curving downwards. The same came from the white robed one, the equivalent of narrowing one’s eyes. 

“How can I know that you will truly honor the rights of a duel?”

“How can I know that you will?,” Saitou responded, a  servant coming behind him to pour both of them honey tea into small cups. Both of them took the warm tea into their hands and took a sips through small proboscises that poked through their facial masks. “Trust goes both ways, my shaman,” the warlord continued, cocking his head to the side. 

“I suppose it does,” silence filled the air after those words as the shaman looked at the pink blossoms that surrounded them. “Very well, you shall have your duel. Send your champion forward and I will send mine.”

Saitou nodded in silence, the two quickly finishing the drinks. They both stood from the table, a servant came and carried it away to a stand, where Saitou would sit to observe the battle. Three paddles sat upon the table now, six different colors total. He held up a green sided to one paddle. A female shuffled forwards, wearing nothing but a skirt and carrying a large no-dachi over her shoulder. Opposite to the female strode out a much smaller male who carried a spear, he wore similar white robes to the shaman but also wore wooden spheres around his neck. 

The two bowed to each other before readying their weapons; the woman holding the sword above her head and the male keeping his spear close. Quickly the did the champion step forward and swing at the air in front of her. The male staggered backwards, not wanting to be hit by the massive no-dachi. He thrust his spear forwards, only for it to be deflected upwards. The two stared at each other once more, silently and unmoving. 

Another step by the female and a swing from above, the male moved to block except the sword never came into contact with the body of the spear. It had been a feint. Suddenly, he found himself dodging the massive weapon, his body becoming parallel with the ground and his foot jetting outwards to kick the female in the stomach. The blow sent the female backwards a bit. Finally, they went back to staring at each other. The man began to reach into the back of his robes with one of his smaller arms, the female unnoticing. 

Again did she come forwards, only to find sand thrown into her eyes. It stung all four of her eyes, soon she was firmly planted onto the ground by the monk who had swept her feet to the side. Desperately, the champion began crawling backwards as the male charge forwards with his spear. She then firmly planted her hand into the ground before a sudden surge of earth came forwards, spearing the monk through the chest. Orange tinted blood spewed across the ground behind the monk and travelled down the pillar that had penetrated him. He had died instantly. 

The champion sighed in relief before getting to her feet before turning back to her comrades who were cheering for her. 

The war had been won. 

Suddenly, an arrow pierced her shoulder sending her stumbling forwards. Saitou’s antennae flew up and his wings flared out in shock that these cowards would dare break the promise. He held up a black side of a paddle and ordered his men, “Charge! Take the city and kill those dishonorable! Slaughter them all!”

With a warcry the men surged forwards, taking to the air as arrows began falling from the sky and piercing the chitin of the charging force. The charging force began falling as the arrows met their mark, but none dared waver in face of the enemy. 

“Umeji! Destroy them!,” the Oriqui ordered, his four eyes staring straight ahead as his men began to take to the air in order to take the walls. He could see the melee combat on the walls from where he stood, the blood and carnage. Saitou looked around, breaking his concentration, seeing his champion recovering by having the arrow pulled from her shoulder. At least it had not been barbed. “Mitsugu, go and kill them. I want their heads,” Saitou growled, earning a nod from the champion. 

Umeji, the most powerful mage in the lands, began waving his four arms in front of him, a fireball forming. The flaming sphere was soon perfected by the smooth motions of his hands. Finally he held the sphere above his head and watched it grow larger, growing into a boulder of pure fire. Soon, the boulder was sent arching forwards and into a spot on the wall where archers were most present. The stone wall came crashing down, a large amount of of arrow fire being silenced instantly. 

The mage began to slowly walk forwards, his soldiers taking the walls now that arrows were not raining upon them like a harsh storm. It became easy to retake the capital after that, granted there was a large amount of death in the field when the warriors began charging forth and dying valiantly from the arrow fire. 

Inside the city was a different story, there was fighting and blood in every space that could be occupied. None of the fighting was of Mitsugu, however, as she made her way to the palace to settle the war once and for all. 

Perhaps in better circumstances, the palace may have been described as opulent and Imperial, but the war had taken a toll on the capital as the local government diverted all resources to the war effort. The bright yellow of the palace now stood grayed and barren, planted trees lay withered and destroyed. There was no beauty to be found, no sign of their culture other than the architecture before the palace. 

Mitsugu drew her blade, steeling herself to fight off potentially dozens of armed bodyguards, yet none sallied out to meet her and, upon opening the doors, only saw one figure. It was the white robed man from earlier, sitting peacefully with a sword in front of him. She knew what he was about to do, uncaring about much else. 

“So you would rather take your own life than die in battle?,” she questioned.

“At least I will keep what little honor I have left,” the white robed one sighed, opening his robed to reveal his chest then lower abdomen. Mitsugu began walking forwards, stopping behind him and raising her sword. “I only hope that the gods allow me to rest peacefully.”

“As do I.”

The whited robed one sent his own sword into his lower abdomen, jerking it to the side and watching as his orange blood began to flow. Soon he would feel no pain as Mitsugu lobbed off his head with one savage strike. Now the city was theirs, now the Republic could solidify its hold over the lands.

It was a brave new world.

[hider=summary]
All you need to know is that the Republic has retaken the cultural capital of the Andraxi and you get to see the culture of the people. Have fun reading it because I have nothing else to say.
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