[i](A collaborative post by Goldeagle1221 and gorgenmast)[/i]

The sun had sunk beneath the western peaks of the Tiranines, silhouetting the jagged mountains against a blazing array of reds, oranges, and purples. The darkening skies beckoned the first peeping frogs of spring out of their daytime haunts to sing their chirping songs from Old Valatir's cisterns and aqueducts. Torchglow increasingly illuminated the city streets below and the stars above twinkled faintly into being in the sun's diminishing afterglow. These marked the end of a momentous day in the history of the Night Mother's Empire. And with the day's closed-door discussions and strategic coordinations concluded, now was the time for the dissimination of what the Archons and their servants had discussed.

Regent Ai lounged upon a balcony of one of the Valatirine Sanctum's annexes, joined by Stewardess Helkha of Boria. The dark blue light of dusk tinted the pair dimly, as the ray's of springs day began to fall behind the horizon. A look of thought had taken Ai's visage in the twilight.

"Sometimes I wonder about the divide between the north and south, Helkha," Ai thoughtlessly commented, crossing his arms over the balcony rails, leaning forward into the gust of evening air. The man had taken off his metal bands sometime after the council along with the heavier furs, leaving him in a casual wear that if not for his trademark scimitars of striped metal and darker skin tone, he could easily be mistaken for any common fur bearing Aesling. 

"This is a different land, to be sure," Helkha replied, taking up a stone cup of mulled wine from the platter left by the Sanctum's attendants. "The south is an older, more established realm than our northern homelands. Things are naturally quite different in these parts, and as such, their customs and attitudes are often unsual to us northerners to the point of bristling. There is a cultural divide, but we all live to serve Her. We are [i]one[/i] empire under Her grace, after all."

"I know," Ai accepted, his eyes fixed on the waxing moon, "but sometimes anguish conquers the fore of my mind."

"Anguish is something with which I am all too familiar," Helkha added with a glance to the moon. "Anguish on behalf of my Vadigar, who does battle against the servants of the moon on the edge of the world even now... Mother willing." With that, she took a long swig from the steaming cup.

"What troubles you, dear Ai?"

"I feel as if I'm growing contempt," Ai admitted, clear guilt in his voice, "being down here is like a cold shock upon my psyche."

"Contempt for whom? I know something of great import was discussed here today. I hope you do not refer to your discussions with Kalon and the Archons."

Ai squeezed the rail, his knuckles betraying his calm tones, "the talks went terrible, horrible even. Sinful."

"Oh dear," Helkha lamented. "Do tell me, dear Ai; tell me what was said."

"They knew," Ai turned to Helkha, "for seven years, while the north twisted itself and wrestled with building the perfect land for all citizens of Illyrica, the South knew about the machinations of Lesmania and did nothing to prevent this."

Before Helkha had a chance to react, Ai continued, fragments of anger in his voice, "and now thousands upon thousands who trusted them are to be put to death in a war, orchestrated by me, not them, with all of us to pay for their sins of sloth!"

Helkha laid her cup upon the railing and stood silent as she processed what Ai had recounted.

"They mean to invade Lesmania? Why must there be a pre-emptive attack? Surely, there can be diplomacy with Charce and Bretturea?" Helkha said reactively, with little forethought. But as she heard her words on her own lips, she had already realized how ridiculous it was to even suggest diplomacy. When had the Night Mother or her Archons ever thought to engage in diplomacy? They had not attempted to treat with the Aeslings, nor with her own Borians. She felt foolish to think, even for but a moment, that things could be different with Lesmania. Invasion - not diplomacy - was the Illyrican way.

"What does this mean for us, dear Ai?"

Ai looked over Helkha's face, as if studying her. Unlike the ears of most of the commanders of the Empire, Ai's twitched at her original suggestion. He lowered his eyes, "if this was brought to me, or even my father, seven years ago, for sure we could have ended this series of events with as little brute conflict as possible. But this is the now and Charce has been prepared for all out war for five years, even attacking our borders, unbeknownst to the north of course."

He sighed, "I asked to initiate parley with Bretturea, if war must come, be it small." 

"I certainly hope so. But if what you say is true, Lesmania, from the sound of it, seems entrenched for as prolonged a fight as they can sustain. I fear a great many men will need to be mustered, from north and south alike. How many of my countrymen are requested for this effort?"

Ai's face grew grim, "Thousands upon thousands. I do not think the others realize what their lack of response has done to our countrymen. We are going to not only need to muster for war, but dig in for defense in the North incase all our work is to be seen undone by Atar or rebels."

"Boria is not a populous realm," Helkha said as she poured herself another cup of steaming mulled wine from the carafe. "Thousands upon thousands of our people are not so readily available as they are in the coastal realms. Boria is only still transitioning to an imperial lifestyle, and the peasantry are not yet numerous. Rest assured, I will commit all that I can spare to the war effort, but know that each man that is levied to fight in Lesmania will be sorely missed."

Ai crossed his arms and leaned against the railing, "I have actually pondered often about the duties of Boria in this. I do not think so early in the war it would be a good idea to call the good people of Boria out of their homes. Keep them in their homelands, to defend it should Atar attack. They would be better fit and happy defending their own ground than claiming ground for the far away south."

"That is welcome news to be sure," Helkha said, sipping from her cup in relief. "I could not agree more that the Borian people are of better use to the Mother's designs in Boria."

"But what of you, dear Ai? You do not have the luxury - if it may be called such - of governing a depauperate backwater. You are the Regent Master of the north, the hand of your father.  What does this war mean for you?"

"It means that the blood of the innocent will be laid at my feet, while the others play fool as to why this war is so difficult," Ai snapped unexpectedly. With a heaving breath he raised a hand, "I am sorry, but you know this is not the way of my father. We fought wars of priority, putting peaceful conversions before murdering both our own citizens and those of the enemy."

"I feel trapped, never given the option of peace, and skipping right to the part that gave my family its legacy," Ai pulled a wicker chair out from its hiding place in the corner of the balcany and fell into in it, stress plastered about his being. 

"I fear for you, dear Ai. I do not wish for you to be sent against the armies of Charce and Breturrea. Everyone that is dear to me leaves and never returns. Vescar, my father, rode against the imperial legions who invaded Boria and was slain. I fear the same has happened to my dear Vadigar. And now that I have come to cherish your friendship, you too seem destined to be sent into the maw of death."

"Do not leave me, Ai." Helkha beseeched, planting her palm upon Ai's hand on the chair's armrest. "You are the only one that I have left."

Ai looked over to her hand, his face macabre with reflection, "the curse of any who acts in war is that you are unaware of how many bonds you have broken beyond that of your sword, or how many hearts."

With that, Helkha stood in thoughtful silence for a moment. She turned and met the Regent Master's moonlit eyes before and pressed her lips against Ai's.

"Then spare mine," she whispered, "and return alive."