[b]January 8, 1910
Outskirts of Tresaii, Realm of Etresna[/b]

Ahead loomed the Forum. A tall, imposing building of pyramidal design endemic to Etremaden architecture, but adorned with the old Kratorian style of marble statues and engraved columns. The Forum had been erected well outside the city limits of Etremetoryy, and its ostentatious display had been a source of contention within the Realm when it was first laid out, seventy years prior. Yearly construction was underway, renovating the building with more modern conveniences and amenities. The building served not only as a neutral ground for secure diplomatic negotiation between the two rival powers, that was a new development. In its first days, the building had been designed as a space for Etremaden and Kratorian scholars and holy people to gather and exchange ideas, work together to solve pressing global issues, and to this day it was full of many of those same minds. Now though, a wing of the building had been set aside for diplomatic affairs, soundproofed and under heavy guard at all hours of the day.

Azhis sighed - rarely had she stepped foot in this building in the past few years for any good reasons, and this day was no exception. A dark cloud seemed cast over all she had seen, and nobody lounged outside, the shaded reflecting ponds were bereft of their usual inhabitants, older men and women debating, arguing, or reminiscing by the water. The guards had been doubled on all sides, Kratorian and Etremaden, and it was with great reluctance that she stepped from her vehicle, making her way into the structure. A convoy of Kratorian vehicles, with their elaborate decorations and ornately-attired attendants, was already there. 

Great works of sculpting, pottery, and painting adorned the walls of the Forum. Exotic plants from every corner of both the Empyreum and Etresna graced its open-air garden. Artifacts such as suits of Empyreal armor or vintage Etremaden cannons were prominently displayed. Truly, the Forum was a place of art, history, and learning. A bastion of knowledge and understanding between two great world powers. And yet there were no hymns sung or poems recited in its normally inviting halls. No young scholars or groups of schoolchildren toured the exhibits. There was scant evidence of the priests and mystics, philosophers and scientists, artists and orators, that made the Forum their residence. Save for Kratorian and Etresnan soldiers staring each other down, the chambers and halls were empty. Sometimes a lone scholar would pass by, but only ever with their eyes downcast and in a hurry. One Kratorian nun seemed to be muttering a prayer. 

It was in this foreboding atmosphere that Etresna’s military leader entered the council chamber. Unlike the rest of the Forum, the chamber had no natural lighting and relied on half electronic lights and half illumination crystals. Each half of the room was decorated in Etremaden and Empyreal style, from the floor beneath them to the ceiling above. Even the table was bisected in such a manner, horizontally arranged across the space with two head seats facing each other and several others in between. The Kratorian side of the table was hard black wood with intricate symbols. The head seat was carved into the likeness of a dragon. Praetorian Knights lined the walls in their white armor, swords at their side and pistols on thigh holsters. The Etresna side of the table was already mostly filled, Azhis having arrived last. 

A handful Kratorian nobles sat alongside the table, those of greatest prominence seated next to the Empyreal at the head of the table. Ser Barris Paeston was present, a representative of the Empyreal blacksmithing guild and his cousin Primarch Phaeston, the Iron Lord. Archsage Demetrius Pallenis, the leader of the Kratorian scholars in residence at the Forum sat across from him. Chanter Cassandra, head cleric of the local Unitarian Convent was dressed in her priestly raiment. Lord Dekton, the Empyreal Ambassador to Etresna and decorated veteran, sat at the position of honor to the dragon-seat’s right. A Knight Praetor with a golden plume, a captain of the venerable order, stood just behind the seat. All of the Kratorians rose respectfully at Azhis’ entrance. 

All except Princess Ariel, who bowed her head but did not rise. The Princess was Alexander’s youngest daughter, yet unmarried and one of the most celebrated beauties of the Empyreum. But also was she highly regarded in the art of diplomacy, and so served as the nation’s youngest Lady Herald at the age of eighty, though she looked like a girl who hadn’t yet reached her second decade. She was stunning in her dark red dress, her long black hair done in a traditional Kratorian braid. The Princess smiled slightly at Azhis, meeting her gaze with her golden eyes, and said, “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance once more my lady. Now that you are here we may begin in earnest. I won’t stand on ceremony, I have arrived fresh from Empyreapolis at my father’s command.” 

She took in those around the table before saying, “If swift action, is not taken soon, our nations will once again clash. We must stop this violence before it starts. Or else this time, the whole world will bleed.” 

Anukadi, who had given Azhis a look of dissatisfaction as the latter arrived late, once again, turned to the princess, nodding. “Yes. We have been leaning upon the Kaiser to be calm, and not to rush needlessly into war. Uruk has, of course, not been conciliatory in the actions of their… ally, and Tsuljin itself seems desperate to, if anything, provoke the Kudruni.” She sighed, drumming her fingers upon the silver inlaid wood of the table, images still clear in her mind of the carnage even decades ago, hundreds of thousands dead or wounded in the last conflict between the Realm and the Empire. She had not served on its front lines, but had been deployed to the region to oversee the engineering aspects of rear echelon supply and logistics within one of the theatres of operation. As with every other citizen of the realm, though, the grainy photography taken in the aftermath of the battles had seared a bloody brand into her memory, and as she considered the modern weapons they now held, the prospect of war terrified her. 

Azhis spoke up, “Forgive my lateness, Princess, Raijen. I have been overseeing the deployment of more security to our embassies abroad, as well as other pressing matters, though I must apologize, for such does not excuse my lateness. With your permission, I would like to remind the Kaiser’s own military advisors of the importance the Realm plays in his own nation’s security and prosperity, and of the horrors a war would unleash not only upon his own nation, but uncountable lives across the world.”

Silence reigned for a moment before Anukadi gave her a tacit nod, before returning her attention to the Princess. “We are doing what we can to restrain the Kaiser, but I must implore you - your own nation must do what you can to keep Uruk - and by extension Tsuljin - in check. There is no time for keeping information behind closed doors, hoping to gain something from this crisis. The Prince’s assassination has thrown Rotteburg into an uproar not seen for four decades, and their army is mighty for sure. Were they to attack Tsuljin, Uruk, as we know, will retaliate. Such will draw both our nations into the fray, and those other allies of ours otherwise uninvolved. The dominoes are lined up, and I fear for the ramifications should they begin to fall. The world will bleed, yes, but bleeding may be the least of its concerns.” 

The Princess took a sip from the chalice, pure Empyreal nectar, and replied, “There are many at home who share our concerns. My esteemed colleagues will no doubt testify that endless scores of clerics and sages both call for a cooling down of hostilities. Not to mention the trade guilds.” Ariel nodded at Ser Barris. 

The broad-shouldered, barrel-chested man looked out of place in a business suit and his booming voice filled the whole room, “Yes. A war would disrupt the world economy immeasurably. We’ve come to welcome Etresnan iron in our foundries. Just as you’ve come to appreciate our custom, I’m sure. Violence is bad for the populace, but so is economic decline. Our people have not known shortages in supplies or jobs in many generations. Rest assured that the guilds will do everything in their power to see this peaceably resolved.” 

The Archsage, a tall grey-eyed man with silver hair, interjected, “Not all I’m afraid. I’m sure the fletchers’ and armorer’s guilds would welcome a little blood-letting. Even if war did not break out, brinksmanship is in their best interest and they’ll be exercising their influence in the Senate. Speaking of which, there are more than a few Senators who fought Etresna and Rotteburg in wars past. Many jockey for glorious vengeance. Even the Chantry isn’t free of such influence.” 

Chanter Cassandra, exuding virginal innocence and long-lived experience at the same time, nodded gravely, “This is true. I chant for peace and reconciliation. But there are wandering preachers and grand clerics both who call for justice to be paid to Rotteburg. They follow the Pantheon, but many see their customs of doing so as being heathenry. They wish for the Hierarch to call for exalted crusade against Rotteburg.” She paused and looked at the Etremaden, “And against Etresna. For the sacrileges of the past and offenses of the present, they say.” 

Ariel grimly added, “Those voices are present on the Council as well. They wish for my father to throw in with the Uruks, not rein them in. Soon it will be a chorus. And as you well know, Alexander has no great love for either of your peoples. Avoiding this war will be a fight in itself and I welcome suggestions.” 

Grim faced, Anukadi listened to the Kratorian delegation, their sentiments echoing many of her own advisors. “Seems we are not so different in yet another way. While many of my people oppose war - we too have many who remember the wars with Kratoria in the past, including myself - there are those who seek ‘glory on the field’, among other bellicose language. While we do not hold grudges as long, our memory stretches back far too, and some still champ at the bit to avenge Daskan’s defeat, over a century ago. We too live long lives - perhaps not as long, and even now some who fought in that war live on, angry at Kratoria.” She shook her head, sighing. “I am not a warrior, and I have no taste for it. It is an ugly matter, a view I have done my best to impress upon some of my colleagues. As for the concept of crusade - victory against Rotteburg might be feasible, but it would cost both sides dearly, and for what gain? Victory against the Realm…” she raised an eyebrow, “I do not mean to seem boastful, but I think we both know such a war between our two nations would result in naught but another stalemate, far bloodier than the last.” 

Another voice joined, a small framed man with deep crimson eyes, a long beard woven into an intricate pattern of pleats and braids adorning his chin, and prominent horn rimmed glasses perched atop his nose. “Economically, many in the Realm would also benefit from war.” He nodded to the Archsage, “The Raijen and many of us have pushed for peace, and prosperity, and the Realm has devoted most of its spending to peaceful, domestic pursuits. It has borne fruits that have made our cities clean, safe, and prosperous - but many se’Khyur have been spurned by this trend. Some of our most ancient and venerable have their roots in martial pursuits, and they push for war - or at least, for greater military spending. I have promised to secure for them greater military contracts in the future, but they are not placated.” 

Azhis, having taken her seat, nodded to the man. “Yes, you are correct, Iuvalle.” Turning to the Kratorians, she continued, “The death of the Prince has only inflamed such sentiments, though their bellicosity is aimed more at the Uruk than your own nation. All of our nations have, evidently, begun the mobilization process - but many se’Khyur have already begun to go further, as you are doubtlessly aware, and they have sunk funds into overhauling old munitions factories and spooling the modernized factories up. They expect war, with Uruk if nothing else, and it has been a gargantuan struggle to hold them back.” 

“What all this means is that we are in no better shape than you, when it comes to averting catastrophe.” Anukadi groaned, “I am sadly bereft of solid suggestions. The most we can do, I think, is to exert what influence we can upon those nations directly involved in belligerent action - I beseech you, do all that you can to reign Uruk and their upstart puppet in. Perhaps threat of military abstention from their conflict will make them see reason. It is with the strength of both of our own nations that they rush headlong at each other, and should we threaten them with taking away that support they count on, and will desperately need… perhaps disaster can be avoided.” Her expression darkened, “But I do not know how much we can dangle the threat of our withdrawal from our alliances before compromising international standing, and undermining the integrity we depend on.”

“Both of our nations are host to proud peoples, and I do not think either of them would brook a peace solely for the benefit of other nations. No, speak to them of averting war of the sake of their children, their loved ones. A war would mean uncountable dead - many of them Kudruni for sure, but many Kratorian. I do not ask you openly declare any threat of withdrawal of support, such would be an absurd request, and I do not think there is anyone in this room who would urge such action. My intention is private pressure, a reminder to our allies that their strength has much to do with their association with our respective nations. Should we inform them in private that we may find it… ‘difficult to provide military aid for hawkish endeavors’ or however you might phrase it, they may yet see reason.”

Lord Dekton, to this point silent finally spoke. His sharp cheekbones and jaw and grey eyes, framed by deep brown hair, were a familiar sight to the Etremaden as the local Consul. His tone was measured, deliberate, “We will do everything within our power to curtail war. Priests will sing hymns of peace. Poets and artists will construct works of reconciliation. Orators and philosophers will talk of prosperity in calm and brotherhood. Writers and journalists will craft editorials in newspapers. Senators will debate on the floor for aversion of conflict. Mercenaries and toughs will beat rabble-rousers and firebrands. Lords and knights will send missives to their Archons asking for cool heads to prevail. We will cajole, beckon, beguile, bribe, threaten, deceive, entreat, and seduce anyone and everyone we have to and many we don’t in order to get this message heard.”

The lord, who looked no older than forty but whose eyes betrayed a century of politics and intrigue continued, “Make no mistake. Everything we will do, the Warlord and those of his mind will do to encourage war. I served in the last war between our nations, as did many of them. I witnessed the horrible slaughter. But whereas that made me wish to avert bloodshed, to build peace and even perhaps concord, it filled others hearts with fury and hate. We have been beaten, but true defeat is an alien concept to my people. However, the honor of battle is one of our most venerated ideals.” 

Dekton looked Anukadi in the eyes, “Even if we did not win, if glory was won and heroism proved, than many Kratorians will have considered it a worthwhile enterprise. Especially the young who have not had their war, as every generation of our race has had one. They pray for immortalization through valor. This is the philosophy we contend with. Even without the considerations of politics.” 

Ariel shook her head ruefully, “You must also make sure that Cethos or their lapdogs do not take advantage of the international chaos. The Lord Governor on Pandorum is already raising his levies in anticipation of raids. Many of the subjects of Uruk’s new empire are descended from those in our old one. We have political, religious, and cultural connections and we will exert them strenuously to avoid blood but tensions are high. We can’t let Cethos ignite them.” 

Ariel took another sip of nectar, her expression pensive now, “And we must convince my father to listen to our voices and not those who call for action. He stands at a crossroads, equally liable to side with us and with the hounds of war. We must find a way to sway him to our way of thinking. He has no love for Rotteburg and he has always distrusted Etresna, since the death of my grandmother. Most of my siblings and other kin are also rather less sympathetic than I am to either of your peoples. I fear it may be far too easy for him to agree with war.” 

“Yes, the Peacemaker.” Anukadi sighed, steepling her fingers. “I wish I could tell you more, but I can do naught but say again what has been said countless times before. The Realm had nothing to do with her death. A monument in her likeness stands outside this very building. I will not pretend all those in the Realm wished her well, but our concerns have lain with our immediate neighbor, and the Realm stood only to benefit from peace with Kratoria. I have tried time and again to explain this. But my words fall on deaf ears. His enmity with Rotteburg, however, is perfectly understandable. Many of my own people resent them, we lost many in the fields alongside their own dead, and our participation in their war with Kratoria cost the Realm no small amount of treasure. That Kratoria, and its ruler, hold even greater distaste for them is only to be expected.” 

“Regardless, Cethos can be restrained with far greater ease than Rotteburg. They are in no direct involvement in this war, and the Cethosi are no fools, they are not blinded by rage as the Kudruni are.”

Before Anukadi could continue, there was an urgent knock at the door, and the Etremaden guards stiffened at the noise. Clad in considerably less aesthetic attire than their counterparts, they were outfitted with thick plates of hardened steel covering their chests, plain grey uniforms crisply starched beneath their equipment. Two of them hurried to the door, opening it after a brief exchange of hurried muttering. 

In bustled a young man, a sheet of paper clutched in his hand as he made his way to the Raijen, inclining his head before offering her the paper, bowing out of the room just as quickly as he had come. 

Anukadi scanned the paper, he expression darkening swiftly. “Grave news. A Rotteburger settlement on the border with Tsuljin has, according to this missive, been annihilated in a raid conducted by Uruk partisans alongside the Tsuljin greenskins themselves. One survivor claims to have seen a Kratorian, Argentum or Aeruca unknown, among them during the attack.” She looked up at them, “The Kudruni then, when sweeping the village, found the coat of Prince Wilem, bullet holes and all, planted in the village temple.” 

She folded the paper, neatly setting it down. “The Kaiser wishes to inform me and the world at large that Rotteburg demands the execution of those soldiers involved in this raid, in addition to the previous demands for the execution of all involved in the assassination of his son.”

Ariel frowned at the news, as did all the other Kratorians, though they did not not seem particularly surprised at the news. The mood changed from one of cautious optimism to something far more bleak. Ariel replied, “Unconfirmed reports, but much sooner than even I anticipated. I’ll have the Inquisition get to the bottom of this. Though you must know in advance Raijen, that the chances of us acquiescing to the Kaiser’s request to be very remote, even if the rumors are true. A Kratorian, much less a noble, would never be extradited to Rotteburg. They would be tried by an Empyreal Magistrate if they are ever caught. I don’t suppose you could try to persuade the Kaiser to accept this?” 

“I would expect nothing less, and would do nothing less myself, Princess. Were it Etremaden involved in this… act, no power in heaven or on earth could force myself, or the Realm, to accept the trial of one of our citizens by a foreign court. The Kaiser will know this too, I am sure. Whether I can convince him to accept this…” She grimaced, “I do not think so, no. He is outraged, rightly so it must be said, and in his anger he seems bereft of all reason.” She looked up to the Princess, “I do not think war can be averted at this rate. The Kudruni and Greenskins seem determined to tear each others’ throats out.”

Ariel sighed, “It is time like these one almost wishes for another Morghul Scourge to appear. At least then, we could compel the lands to unite. We face a sisyphean task but we must undertake it all the same.” The Princess looked around to her countrymen who nodded back, “No further time can be wasted. We must to our duties now. I leave for Pohae, to reassure the city that no harm will befall them from Kratorian arms so long as they maintain neutrality. You may not know our gods, but perhaps they will favor you with success in peacemaking all the same.” 

The Kratorians stood, filing out of the room with respectful farewells, all save for Ariel and her Praetorians. The Princess waited until her and the Raijen’s parties were the only people present. Ariel curtsied the Etremaden ruler and said, “I believe you when you say the Realm was not behind my grandmother’s death. But… if you have some disgraced soldier or politician, some condemned traitor or seditious malcontent or a group of such that you would be better served without…. well, better you send us heads than we send each other armies. Consider it, my lady. I hope that the next time we meet, it will not be as enemies.” 

With that the demigod princess stepped out of the room, her red dress flowing across the floor like a pool of blood.