[center][h2]The Holy Territories of Edoniras (The HTE)[/h2]

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[justify]The door to the room was rather plain, carved out of simple word and only engraved with the insignia of the papacy, leaving any who might see it and not know it's purpose to be shocked for what occurred behind those hallowed doors. The attendants, dressed in ornate and flowing yellow regalia of the Attolian Guard, held their muskets close as they maintained a constant vigil on the hallways leading to this most sacred of rooms. Though, despite the imposing gaze of the men meant to protect the most holy of individuals whom made even the strongest of people wither, it was impossible to do away with many of the highest ranking members of the clergy whom stood with bated breath just in sight. Travelling over the polished stone floor, through the thick wood, and into the room proper we are greeted to a cell.

The dim light of a single candle set in an alcove at the room's far corner cast the faintest of orange hues over the few features. A man, prostrate in the centre of the room, trembled in a cold sweat as he held himself as still as he could whilst gently whispering prayer in a melancholic timbre. Off to his side, still in the long shadows of the room, a basic cot sat with a small wax tablet atop it that already bore the scars of mad scribbling from the nights gone past. A cry as the man suddenly convulsed as his prayer was cut short as the air escaped his lips. Struggling to his knees and pushing himself over to the bed he brought shaking hands up to scratch more text into the tablet as quickly as he could. The words on his lips faster than they were in his hands.

Two days later the humble doors were parted as the slightly short man walked out, lidded eyes carried great dark bags under them whilst clutched to his chest was the closed wax tablet he had been writing on until only a few hours ago. His off-white robes swung loosely and despite having been recently fitted the few days without nourishment already meant they hung off here and there. His salt and pepper hair was closely cropped to his head and with a nod to one of the Attolian Guard, he was followed as he made for his private quarters to freshen up and prepare for his public announcement. The first Great Communion of 1799 had been completed.[/justify]

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[b][i]A few days later...[/i][/b]
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"A summit, your Holiness? I am not sure I understand." The hesitant tone of the special adviser spoke a million more words than he would ever actually utter. Pope Invictus XI waved a hand dismissively.

"Am I not clear enough, Ferrus?" The Pope answered, the silence of the special adviser forcing him to continue. "The place of religion is challenged now on an almost daily basis. The rise of 'rationalism' and 'atheism', whilst not an epidemic, is certainly endemic and draws even more from the flock whilst heresy and heathenism continue to plague the great dream. I have convened with God, his will is clear as are the words of the Communion. Unity in the face of ever growing adversity. So, I wish for an open letter to be drafted for all to read." 

With a sigh, clearly aware that despite protest none of the court of his Holiness would convince him against this course of action, a tall - lithe - wearing the cloth of the cloister lifted a parchment and started to write;


[quote=His Holiness, Invictus XI, Father to all Vipionist children and Shepard to the Great Flock][i]Blessed rulers of this world, God has spoken to me - as is our way - and with his wisdom and guidance I have deemed it necessary to gather as many of you as is possible to realign the wheels of this world and place us both onto the path of spiritual, as well as corporeal, perfection. In six months time the Serene Palace will play host to a religious festival of the Summer and at this time I invite the purest to attend and meet to discuss matters of state and the soul.[/i] [/quote]

Some confusion spread against the clergy again at mention of a festival. "Yes!" The Pope cut in, silencing the voices. "A festival, the land - as well as the toil of the people - has been good to us. We shall now repay this back tenfold and remind every blasphemer and non-believer that the greatest place they will ever find is in our herd and not out in the wilderness with the death and decay." The tone of the Pope had become agitated, aggressive almost, as he finished speaking. Daring anyone to challenge him.

"Your Holiness-" A gentle and soothing voice spoke up. "I admire the plan, I do, there is not here amongst us who would dare to question God's directives. So, if I may lead us into the next point at hand?" A smile as smooth as honey blossomed on the soft features of the foreign adviser. 

"Yes, Biblius." The Pope sighed, leaning back in his seat as he rubbed his temples, internally scolding himself for the outburst.

"Our informants report - alongside most of the media in all countries - the violence between the Kingdom of Sescos and the Echyan Empire are about ready to flare into full conflict. Alongside that a recent condemnation from the Senate of Oflua means this war could become incredibly volatile and spread much further than expected. It is time his Holiness made a papal bull on the matter, and I believe I know what we should say." A nod from the Pope caused the foreign adviser to carry on, amidst the focused faze of the others in council. "His Holiness, Pope Invictus XI, is disheartened and shocked to hear of any occurrence where children of God are at each other's throats for blood. The incidents to his east bring only a future of calamity." 

The Pope tipped his head to one side. "That sounds like nothing more than a diplomatic statement, Biblius, what is the need for mention of a bull?"

The foreign adviser raised a finger and smiled. "The lands on the precipice of war are to the direct east of one of our more amiable friends, the Redcliff Empire, and cover some very strategically important positions for the rest of the inland sea. If they were to fall countless followers would likely die. So, I believe his Holiness should make a papal bull, declaring a 'State for the Protection of the Faithful', in which any nation incapable of providing evidence that it makes provisions for the people - occupied or not - who adhere to our faith will be requested to bring in papal forces, alongside any others from other nations in the flock, to set up relief zones to supply the people with basic food and water." The room was brought to a standstill by the proposal. Nobody said anything, finally a rather fat man at a far end of the table coughed slightly.

"And what, foreign adviser, are we supposed to do if the pertinent nations view this as a declaration of war?" He sniffed slightly, causing the moustache under his nose to ruffle.

"Military adviser Hillard, if you had been listening you would know that the bull requires that-"

"Enough." The Pope said firmly, speaking up now on the matter. "Hillard is correct, what you have proposed is, for all intent and purpose, a blatant declaration of war. Something that will unbalance the scales of the continent and force us into a very tight and dangerous corner. No, make the diplomatic statement alone and make no mention of a papal bull."

"Of course, your holiness, whatever you think is most wise." Finally the room seemed to be out of business for the morning and so with padding feet on beautifully polished stone, the Pope was left to his own devices in the small hall he used to conduct business. In this serenity and peace of solitude he took out a smaller piece of parchment and begun to write. 

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[b][i]"Later that night...[/i][/b]
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The foreign adviser, Biblius Massa, let out an exhausted groan as he pulled the shoes from his feet. Letting them drop beneath his bed as he lay back onto the pillow. It had been a long day, the new Pope had given him the role with a clear directive in mind but he realised now he'd gone about it too zealously and made a fool of himself amongst the much older councillors and advisers. He needed to be more shrewd. Giving a passing glance to his desk, as he did before he went to sleep each night, he was surprised to see a small letter sealed with wax sitting atop it. Standing again and making his way to the work station he noted the papal sigil on the wax and quickly opened the letter to read it.

[hider=To Biblius;][i]Biblius, I admire your devotion and opportunism; I do not appreciate bad advise. Take the sledgehammer you are used to working with and refine it down into a rapier or even a stiletto. Then, reach out to the Kingdom of Sescos. Politely suggest, inform, or damn well enforce that a papal adviser is to be dispatched to their court to oversee these troubling times. Do so quietly. The adviser will have their orders once they are safely at the court of the King. Do not make a fool of yourself, or the Papacy, Biblius.[/i][/hider]

With trembling hands the foreign adviser closed the note. The tone was clear, the Pope would do for no failure here and steeling himself he drafted his first message. By the time he did finally let himself rest, the candles had burned to almost non-existence.