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

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[justify]Deathly, desolate, silence perpetuated the Serene Palace. A minute of utter silence held in honour of every Vipionist passing as the seconds ticked by and war burned away in the east of the continent. Through the hallowed hallways and high ceiling offices all stood in utter and total stillness as they contemplated what has occurred. In the highest room of the tallest tower the Pope, Invictus XI, sat alone and wept. His body shuddering as he held his head in his hands, tears streaming between clenched fingers. It was not the momentous size of the death he was so distraught over, nor the threat to his faith, but his own personal failure. He thought himself better, assumed himself stronger and now as the continent was drawn into conflict he was left on the sidelines in an impossible position. The minute of silence, broken only by his Holiness himself, struggling with his own demonia. 

A sharp rap on the door.

The Pope leapt to his feet just as the bells chimed to signal the end of the moment and people all across the largest church in the world went back to the jobs of statecraft that never stopped, even if they did. Using a small cloth to his side he dabbed at his face to wipe away the marks of his own insecurity, turning at the same time to begin reapplying the ornaments of his position back to his robes. "C-Come!" He managed, stifling the last vestiges of weakness and replacing it with icy cold steel. The door opened slowly and the lithe figure of the special adviser appeared, head bowed.

"Your Holiness, it is time to return to your council, even the Tetrarchs are here. They will need your leadership and guidance, especially in these coming days." The adviser simply left then, not waiting for any answer, aware even the envoy of God had no choice in these matters. With a final gulp of air, the Pope was resolute and the facade he lived behind restored to full strength. Like a storm he travelled from the private room and advanced down the steps towards one of the larger meeting rooms currently playing host to the highest advisers in his court and the four men all vying for his own very position. Wolves invites into the home and needing fresh blood every meal or else they'd sink their teeth into the host.

Coming to the doors themselves to the meeting room, ornately and intricate with floral and aesthetic patterns the envy of the world over. Thousands of years of history, devotion and worship; a monument to the wealth of nations and glory of mankind. All pushed aside to welcome the leader of it all to his advisers and begin the new day of business. All stood at his arrival, bowing their heads and waiting patiently as he took the central position on the dais at the head of the room. Settling himself in he looked over the small pack of notes his assistant had made and reminded himself of the orders of business to be noted as well as some of the more niche details he had to consider. Finally, a wave of the hand and resonant. "We begin." To allow all to return to their own seats and the business to begin.

"The most important matter, I believe, for you all to note is the war that was declared on the Kingdom of Sescos. I-" The Pope was interrupted as the Tetrarch for the Might of Arms stood and blustered into anger.

"Your Holiness my brethren go to war as we speak! The people of Redcliffe are good followers, why do we not march besides them!?" The tall and muscular man, a former military officer who found the cloth, Marcellus Lucio seemed to glow a bright red and there were wide eyes at the impudence and direct challenge to the Pope the man had just laid down. Met with the glacial gaze of the Pope the fire under the Tetrarch softened and the venom spat in the next words by Invictus saw the bullish man sit back down.

"Your opinion is noted, Tetrarch Marcellus, now if you could manage to staunch the flow of faeces from that gullet I might be able to finish my own point and allow you to make suggestions, if I deem it appropriate or needed." Without giving the man a chance to reply he returned immediately to his point. "I believe that an immediate declaration of war and hostility is foolish, our men are not in position and we have the summit and a festival to look at. However, this seemingly weak willed display from those outspoken critics across the continent has given us a message we cannot ignore. They will sit back and do nothing when warmongers attack their walls. They have blinked, we will not. So, Tetrarch, you can report back to your allies at home -as I am sure you will - that the Pope hears the plight of our people in the East and they should worry not. He will act in time. I would allow debate and discussion on the point, but I don't particularly want to." The Pope looked to every man, inviting one of them to dare challenge him as Marcellus had done so. None even met his gaze and he nodded, content he had squashed the chance of any internal revolt for now, but aware he had cut off a great deal of advice on the matter. With a click of his tongue he continued. "Further reports inform us that preparation for the festival proceeds well, I assume this is accurate?"

"Er, it is, your Holiness!" A very mouse-like man chirped up from behind giant spectacles. "Pilgrims have very slowly started to enter the country and already we have been encouraging innkeepers and other service providers to higher more stuff and build up stocks in preperation for the increase in traffic through the country as they come to pay homage and celebrate here. Your mass for them all is also being written, we believe a more fiery speech might be wise given the circumstances and your previous statement." Little more was needed and the pope politely replied with acknowledgement.

"Very good, next, the matter of future investment. It seems many of our neighbours funnel yet more money into the colonial ventures they are so fond of. We do not have this as a source of income and none of the trouble that comes from it." Murmurs of agreement, the choice to refrain from colonialism was a tactical one, they knew. "However, this must mean we make our nation the home of industry and wealth. It is no good for the heralds of God to be themselves too poor to aid anyone. The profiteering and mercantilism of the Ianians is proof they have no interest in the freedom of trade, so, we will challenge that. Now. My economic advisor, Roberto Hilario, has put together an initial plan and we are going to put it into motion as soon as possible. Turn to your third page and you will see it laid out before you.[/justify]

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[b][i]A number of hours later...[/i][/b]
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[justify]"... Which is why, gentlemen, this is not to be announced until we have at least our founding members. With all three member states, we should be able to encourage others to join this and begin the process of seizing back a freedom of trade to help our nation flourish." The men, many of whom seemed a little confused but tried to hide such a fact, nodded in less than unison. One hand rose, like a child, and the Pope waved to him. 

"Your Holiness, it is a bold strategy, this is surely to cause further tension. Can I assume we will be making some moves to ensure the safety of the nation?" More fervent agreement here, as war and security seemed to be a matter they understood far better. A hand raised to summon silence allowed the Pope to retort.

"We will be ensuring that the people of our nation are safe and no harm will befall them, what authority does a nation have to denounce protection of trade when they began the arms race?" A shrug of ascent from the outspoken adviser meant there was little else to say and so the Pope finally called the meeting to an end, asking Biblius Massa, Hilard Hershaw and Ferulli Gaza to stay behind. "You, all three of you, will be getting your marching orders today and I do not want to hear from you until they are completed." 

As the door to the meeting room swung shut each was enraptured in the details of the movements they needed to make.[/justify]