[b]January 3rd, 1910
Empyreapolis, the Kratorian Empyreum[/b]

The streets of Empyreapolis were crowded and chaotic on an average day as laborers, merchants, salarymen, musicians, preachers, performers, whores, cutpurses, and duelists went about their business and plied their trades. The air was heavy with the scent of fresh fruit and sizzling meat and the aroma of exotic perfumes and spices. The chill of the ocean collided with the heat of the crowds, peoples of all races and tribes mingling with curses, greetings, arguments, farewells, and well-wishes spoken in dozens of tongues. Empyreapolis was not the richest, most beautiful, most advanced, or oldest of the Empyreal poleis. But it was the largest, and its heart beat with an eclectic vitality that made it unique among any of the world’s great cities. The polis never slept, and there was always an air of liveliness in its atmosphere. 

But today, the city thrummed with jubilation. One could always find vendors hawking their wares, fools and jugglers putting on a show, and preachers, poets, and philosophers all orating to an audience. But the streets of the city were absolutely crammed with pedestrians, as if it were a holiday. Stalls upon stalls of fruit sellers, pot shops, and desert makers provided food for a horde of Kratorians. An entire circus act was parading through the crowds, stilt-walkers walking through the crowds as acrobats tumbled and fire-eaters spewed flame to the sky. Elephants stomped past with their workers raining flowers on the citizens. Children ran screaming in packs, buying insects in cages from vendors to smash them against their feet a moment later. A cyclops in green paint mock shot a Myrmidon in fake princely raiment, before a gaggle of jesters in green motley came to “beat” the false prince to the cheer of the crowds. 

Clearly, the Wilem’s death was not exactly an occasion to mourn for the Empyreum’s citizens. There was not one dreary face in the crowd, even those on their way to a job or an errand seemed to have more cheer in the step. Some of the rhetoric was less celebratory however. Many citizens held up signs such as “Stand with the Uruks!” or “Death to the Wasps!” and cried out for war and blood against the Reich. The Kaiser was held aloft in effigy and burned. A fire zealot roused up the crowd, reciting verses of flames and brimstone from his holy texts, calling for a cleansing fire to scour Rotteburg clean. And their allies as well, Etresna principal among them. The crowd tasted war in the air. And they had no fear of it. 

Prince Saren, third-born son of King Alexander, watched all of this from his black horse as he rode through the streets with his knight companions and Praetorian Knight mounted around him and his attendants and guardsmen on foot. The princely procession was hailed as they passed through the streets, Empyreapolis Reeves holding back the crowds as people cheered. 

“Kill those wasps Prince!” 

“Give those gapers a kick in the bunghole Saren!” 

“Glory to the House of Dragons! Fire to the heathens!” 

Saren waved and smiled back at the crowd, but did not reply, as he rode through. He did a good job of hiding it, but inside he was just as excited as the commons. He had been waiting for a chance to prove his valor. And it seemed the ancestors would seem grace him with his chance. 

The Prince had been hosting the rest of the royal family at the winter palace of Snowhearth, his own estate, when word came out of Wilem’s assassination. They returned early, and his father had charged Saren with riding out to gauge the mood of the people. He was to report to the Empyreal Council chamber once done. And all day, Saren had seen nothing but dry eyes. Where other cities in other nations might be going about their day with a sense of foreboding, Empyreapolis went about its business with a spring in its step. The Prince doubted it was much different in the other poleis. 

Finally the king’s castle, Drakon, came into view. It dominated the city’s skyline on its position atop Olympian Hill at the mouth of Cerulean Bay. It was a dazzling construction of white marble, both fortress and palace, beautiful and formidable. A statue of a white dragon crowned its highest tower, roaring over the city. Saren was home. 

The palace guardsmen let him in with no incident and Saren didn’t bother to change out of his riding clothes as he made his way flanked by Praetorians to the Empyreal Council Chamber. His father would want his report straight away, and he would not be late to the first meeting he was ever invited to. Saren found the council chamber, it’s entrance guarded by a squad of Praetorians and two marble statues, a likeness of the sky father and the queen of gods, before the carved wooden doors were opened for him. 

He was the last to arrive. All of the Councillors were in attendance, as well as his mother and most of his siblings. Hektor had already been dispatched to the Empire and Ariel to Etresna. Iris was with her husband, the Sun Lord, but was due for the capital within the week. Saren nodded to his siblings, kissed his mother on the cheek, nodded to the Councillors and bowed his head to his father and king. 

Alexander, a handsome and well-built man with hair as black as night and blue eyes bright as day, smiled at his son. The steel and ruby crown rested on his head, it’s dragon headpiece peering out with fiery gems. He spoke first, “What news from my people Saren?” 

Saren stood at attention saying, “They cheer the death of Wilem. Hatred for the Reich and the Kaiser runs strong among the people. And many call for war. They want us to declare with the Uruks and march on Rotteburg. Their allies in Etresna and Cethos are not safe either.” 

Alexander nodded, “It is as I thought. They have long memories and no fear of war, my people.” 

The Lord Marshall, Areus Stratius, taller than any man in the room with a scar running down his face and blood-red eyes, leaned in, “As is only proper. For once I agree with the plebs. Rotteburg will strike at the Uruks. We must ready to strike ourselves to honor our alliance.” 

Sophia Pallenis, the Lady Chancellor, with her chestnut hair and stormy grey eyes, interjected, “The folly of the mob should not hold great sway over us. We are entrusted to chart the best course for our nation. And war is not the best course. Rotteburg and their coalition are a doughty enemy. War would see great strain on our people.” 

The Lord Treasurer Cato Mercurial, leaned in and said, “Not to mention our industries. All trade with Rotteburg, Etresna, Cethos, all ceased. Shipping to and forth from the eastern lands, disrupted. Custom with the greenskin lands and Pohae, greatly curtailed. We could trade with the Uruks, with the western lands. But the longer any war lasted, the greater the loss. Not to mention the drain on the royal treasuries. Taxes diverted to levies for the armies. Expenses. Austerity measures. If we did not achieve quick victory, the guilds will suffer and so will the people. Save for the war guilds of course.” 

Areus slammed his fist on the table, “Watch your tongue Mercurial. I won’t have an usurer impugn my honor. Aye, the enemies we face are no weaklings or idiots. But we will have the Uruks on our side. We have beaten greater foes than they. We will beat them again. High Command has been formulating stratagems for such an eventuality for over a century. We will prevail. We just need resolve. If the Chancery can do its job, they can sway more to our side.” 

Sophia sighed, “It was Queen Olympia’s life’s work to forge peace between our people with the Reich and Etresna. Would you have it undone so quickly? We must urge calm in the Uruks and the Kudruni both.” 

Princess Celeste, the second daughter of Alexander, said, “And look what Etresna did! Long has there been suspicion that they were behind my grandmother’s death! Perhaps the time has come for those hill savages to be humbled for good and all. And Rotteburg too! We come to their defense and what do they do? They turn and throw in with those horned heathens. They pervert the worship of our gods. My blood cries out for retribution. We must simply be bold enough to bare our blades.” Several of those in attendance around the table banged their fists on the table, Areus loudest of all. 

The Lord Justiciar, master of the King’s Laws, Tiberius Atlan, said, “That has never been proven. The Queenslayer was caught and executed. No conclusive evidence of a greater conspiracy has ever arisen.” 

Lady Talia Black, the Lady Inquisitor and Alexander’s bastard sister, spoke up softly, “And what evidence has arisen has never been disproven. The Etremaden are clever in their own way after all.” 

Sophia, exasperated, said, “I will not venture into this argument again, everything that has been said on the subject has been said and it is outside the scope of the discussion, if you pardon me my Princess. We talk of Wilem’s assassination and whether we will to war. And it is my firm belief, that war is not in our interest. We must do all we can to avert it.” 

Areus replied, “Wilem’s death is a start. We should not rest until his father kneels at our feet and the Reich is laid low. Then we can have peace!” 

Lord Cato asked, “I wish the advice of the Hierarch. Surely the gods have some word on this.” 

They turned to the Hierarch Ariadne June, a woman with auburn hair and green eyes, she said, “We have still not received word from the Oracle. But many in the priesthood will soon take sides in the debate. The ancestors have not yet given me a conclusive portent one way or another.” 

Areus replied, “The gods favor the bold. This hesitation is craven. They will not favor our inaction.” 

Sophia said, “Action does not mean blood. We must not rush headlong into battle when we have alternatives!” 

A heated argument soon ensued, and Saren remained silent all through it as the Councillors took sides and strenuously debated. The Prince only watched his father, whose face was stone, until finally Alexander’s voice carried in a murmur that cut through the noise, “Silence.” 

The chorus of voices stopped and they all straightened in their seats. Alexander was a charismatic, charming, and genial man but he knew how to command respect and attention. It was given to him by these proud and bright lords of the realm instantly. Alexander took his time speaking, the words flowing deliberately with no hurry and with great verve. 

“We went to war together. We are kin by blood and law, but battle made us brothers and sisters. I was honored and blessed to ride beside you. But I remember the death and suffering that accompanied that valor and heroism. I will not recklessly plunge my people into that. But neither will I do nothing. We will hope for peace, but prepare for war.”

All eyes were on him, all were intent on what Alexander had to say, “I have already sent Hektor and Ariel to the Uruks and to Etresna. They will take a measure of the mood and try their best to keep the peace. I will put out a public proclamation condemning the attack. I will send a letter of condolence to the Kaiser. Sophia, please offer my and the Queen’s attendance at Wilem’s funeral. Tiberius, offer a reward for the capture of the Princeslayers. They will have no haven in my lands. Talia, I want your agents in the greenskin lands and the Reich to supply us with all the intelligence we can get. Reach out to the Thieve’s Guild and see if they know anything. Hierarch, the Prince shared our faith in his own fashion. And even if they are rivals, he did not deserve such an ignoble death. Have public prayers sung for his rest in the afterlife.” 

Alexander stood, walking around the room as he continued planning, “I want all Kratorian nationals in the border provinces and the Reich withdrawn. Bring our people home. The lecturers, the artists, the doctors, the priests, all of them. Have the Chancery in those nations ready to evacuate if needed. Invite the Rotteburg ambassador to dinner. Furthermore, I want the ports secured. New defenses will be raised in case of attack. Custom to and from Rotteburg will continue but travel will be warned against and all outgoing and incoming cargo will be extensively searched. Merchants will be accompanied by corsairs or marines to ensure security. I don’t want the Reich press-ganging any of my countrymen into service. Get word to the Lord Governor on Poisedonis. Have his fleets ready and his men raised in case Cethos gets any ideas. I want the consuls in Sidara, Anvegad, and all other nations to intensify efforts to bring them into alliance with us. Even if they don’t side with us, if they remain neutral, that will aid us against Etresna’s coalition.” 

“Areus, the same goes for our forces here at home. I want all lords of the realm to begin drilling their levies. Have the southern army marshall at the border. Not to invade but to secure our borders. We will advise citizens not to leave and new arrivals will be thoroughly questioned. Ready the fleets to protect our waters. I want the guilds and the houses to begin setting aside funds in case we need them to prosecute a war. Hire the Reavers on retainer, we’ll need their expertise and begin seeking experienced corsairs to augment our fleets.” 

The lord of Kratoria finally settled back in his seat, exuding confidence and command, “Those Cethosi royals will come in handy I’m sure. I will consult them on how we can deal with the usurpers, politically and militarily. I want our Admirals to have as much insight into their seamanship as possible. We need every advantage we can get, for we face stiff competition.”

“I will not be caught unaware either. Ramp up production of warships, weapons, and material. Intensify the regimens for current training units. Every Legion will conduct exercises. I want a recruitment drive as well. No conscription, but I want this wave of patriotic fervor to be exploited. Even if we avoid war, it will not hurt us to have more soldiers. I want expanded trade to the western and eastern continents. They’ll be our principle partners should the continent erupt in war. It is time to finalize expansive trade deals with those nations. Get that done as soon as possible. That way if Cethos disrupts our trade, they will anger the East as well. I want construction on the grand canal re-doubled. It’ll be essential in our strategic plans.” 

Saren was enthralled by what he saw. He had always known that his father was born to rule, but seeing it in action only further impressed upon him just how blessed Kratoria was to have such a King, “The propaganda will not be inflammatory but it will be patriotic. I want inspiring plays to be performed. Rousing songs to be played. Tales of heroism recited by our poets. I want our philosophers and lecturers waxing praise for the Empyreum. I want our priests to preach unity. This is no time for our familial squabbles and tribal disputes. We must all pull together now if we are to prevail. I want national pride to be high. I want centaurs and satyrs and cyclopes all drinking together to Kratoria’s prosperity.”

“I want missives sent to all the Primarchs and Archons to this effect. Tell the Lord Governor of Westerpolis to ready our cities there and raise their defenses and fleets. They will be useful as well. And send a message to Dis. Make sure the Lord Warden is able to convince the Demon of the East to set aside his disagreements with us and focus his hate on Etresna. Kratoria’s citizens must close ranks in every respect.” 

Alexander turned to his beautiful Queen, the silver haired and violet eyed Andromeda Aidones and said, “Please write to your brother, personally. I want his support assured.” 

Andromeda smiled, “Orcus has always been proud, but never disloyal. He will stand beside us, as House Aidones has stood beside the other houses since the dawn of the Empyreum.” 

“I am glad to hear it. And furthermore, I will include invitations to all the Primarchs to be our guests at court. We will have much to discuss. They are all veterans in their own rights and I would be glad to consult with them.” 

He started the Speaker of the Senate, Adonis Solaris, and said, “I want you to gauge the mood in the Senate. See where the tide is blowing, towards war or peace. Do your best to keep the rhetoric restrained. And do everything in your power to secure support so that we have a majority following us, whatever needs to be done. Though if our adversaries are fool enough to pre-emptively declare war on us, they will do our job for us.” Adonis nodded, confirmed he would do so. 

Alexander turned to Artorias, his eldest son and heir, “And if we go to war, we can’t do so with the north in turmoil. Go North, with the Varingian Legion. Help our man achieve dominance over the other clans and secure his fealty. We’ll need their stout northern soldiers, and it’s time to make realm whole once more. He’s won some great victories, but it’s time to finish this. If it can be done peaceably, all the better. Do this for me Artorias.” 

Artorias, who much resembled his father but with his mother’s silver hair and violet eyes nodded sagely, “By your will father.” 

The King faced his youngest son now, “And you Saren, make sure our air cavalry is ready. They will be tested. Tell the Sky Marshall I will expect nothing less than excellence. From you and all the other pilots.” 

Saren bowed his head, “I will not fail you father.” 

Alexander smiled at his children, “I know you won’t.” 

The King stood, “Areus, accompany me to the war room and summon the generals and admirals. We must review our strategies for any scenario. Make changes if necessary. Hierarch, please extend the invitation to the Lords Commander of the holy orders. Grand Sage,  send us your most experienced warcraft scholars. Hercules, Talia, join me as well. We will relate this plans to the Primarchs once they arrive. Sophia, Tiberius, Cato, all of you, I will need your expert consultation in other matters. All my previous engagements are cancelled for today and tomorrow. I entrust those to you Viceroy. You will see to the day-to-day matters in my stead. My Queen, please keep our present guests occupied in my absence. I will be in council all through the night. Please attend me as well.” Talia and Andromeda nodded, as did the Lord Praetor Hercules and Viceroy Paris, who were Alexander’s trueborn brothers. 

Alexander turned to two figures who had been entirely silent throughout the exchange. One cowled figure, a man whose hair was silver with age and who sported an impressive beard sat next to a comely man with platinum blonde hair. The Archmagus Hadrian Jovia, grand-uncle to the sky lord was one of the only men Alexander bowed his head to, though in respect and not deference. Archmagus Hadrian was over a thousand years old, one of the oldest living Aureates, and had seen much and more in his lifetime. He had been leader of the Magi for half a millenia and had been adviser to Alexander’s mother, her father, and his father. 

“Archmagus, you have seen more of war than almost any other living. Your insight would be invaluable. I would be honored if you could attend these further meetings.” 

Hadrian smiled slightly and said in his cultured sonorous voice, “The honor is mine young king. I will gladly join, and will ask along the greatest of the Knight Enchanters as well.” The man next to Hadrian was Lord Kieran Selunes. He had fae blood in him and was kin to the Lady of the Hunt. Though fair, he was infinitely mysterious. Saren supposed that came naturally to a Nemesis, a royal agent who had almost limitless power and authority to ensure the stability of Kratoria. 

Alexander nodded as well to Kieran, “You are one of my best agents my lord. A strong right hand. You’ve fought the Etremaden. You’ve fought the Kudruni. You’ve done great things for the Empyreum. I will need you and all your compatriots in the days to come. I could use your advice.” 

Kieran smiled, “Anything for the Empyreum your majesty. That is the oath I swore.” 

Alexander replied, “And all the better for it. Very well. We all know what we must do. Let us not delay any further. Go with the gods. For the Empyreum.” 

All in the room echoed, “For the Empyreum.” 

Artorias was the first to leave, his helm under his arm as Praetorians fell in, making ready to depart for the North. The other councillors left as well, save those who would go with his father to the war room. Saren took one last look at his king and left, heart pounding with excitement. Already he could hear the crowds cheering his name.