The Red Lotus hotel in Zang-Quin, was the most lavish Establishment of its kind in all of Zengrav. Bought by an Sairish company, it had made its name, by catering to the taste of the elite of the city, offering international luxuries in the war-torn country, as well as discretion for all kinds of affairs, bribery and other mischief. It was here, where the yearly New years eve Gala was taking place, and the rich and powerful of the republic would gather, be it for amusement or politics! For if one was looking, one could find both in exess among the people at this party.
Plantation-Owners walked next to captains of industry, who in turn shaked hands with politicians, diplomats and envoys, generals and Officers. Senators mingled with rising singers and moviestars, journalists with arms-dealers and shareholders. Even some of the most powerful bosses of the Uzra-Zagra in the Capital, had amassed enough goodwill among the powerful to be invited.
Among them, where those who they called the Dandy-Clique, due to their lavish clothing, expensive tastes and mostly beautiful companions. In their mid, was the Chancellor Heegon Wu ever present, always the one laughing the loudest, constanly having his glass refilled, while endlessly talking to the mass of sycophants surrounding him. "No, i do believe that there is no chance that the nationalists ever will pose a threat again. Some border trouble, mayhaps, but nothing to worry about! Yes...yes, i am aware of Lavania but i got to ask, what do they wish to gain from it? No, my dear friend, i am most certain, that we will have nothing to fear from that regard anymore! The real enemy are the Royalists! And then later...well, i dont say that at some point we do have to deal with the damn red but...well, we all know it, dont we? I do hope for a diplomatic solution, but that red brother fella? He aint nothing but trouble i tell you!"
A whole army of valets and butlers was rushing among the many groups, always making sure that the glasses were full, while the big-band on the round stage in the middle was putting on a slower song, as a gorgeous beauty from the vershelleen Colony of Sarish was slowly walking on state, towards the microphone. Moments later, the dark skinned beauty would lure the room in, with a voice in the melodic accent of homeland. Nothing in this room would even hint at the fact, that this were the leaders of a nation at war...
T H E R E F O R M E D N A T I O N
Yesui Olya´s nails were digging into the Scabbard of her sword, which she never put out of her hand, as she was sitting on the chair on the top of the long table. Her once fine face, had been painted with make-up, so thick that every movment of her muscle made parts of it crickle off. Her single cold eye was resting on the hall, where the leaders of the Nationalist army were buzzing around, like a swarm of angry hornets. Everyone could feel the tense knowledge of the coming battle in the air, yet it was also mixed with the sweetness of the promise of vengeance against the royalists who had once brought them to the bring of defeat. "Wehh..cross...at dawn! There will be no...merchyyy"
Her once powerful voice was just a whisper now, yet still it could be heard among the mass of people, as she stared at the map, speaking to nobody but herself. "We g..guttt them...burn...them...and bury...their ash with horse-shit.."
Raising from her seat, her legs were shivering, as her nails digged deeper into the Scabbard. "YOU H...hhhear me...No...merchyy..."
The room was silent for a moment, before a loud voice broke the silent. "WE WILL KILL THEM ALL, GREAT LEADER! UNITY ABOVE ALL!"
Salutes and cheers followed, and for a moment, a grim grin moved on Yesui´s face, which took half her mouth, the part that was not just painted onto scared flesh, where once a lip had been. For just a moment, she kept standing, before sinking back into her chair.
T H E P E O P L E S R E P U B L I C
The air was stale in the room, as the discussions had raged on for hours without end. Syndicalist met with social-democrates, Totalists with anarchists and all argued with the wise old brother. He had defended his purges for the better part of the day, as a necessary step to saveguard the people of the new republic from the counter revolution and to punish the vile murder of the red father. An single accusation had been flung at him, by an anarchist, who had dragged out by the ever-present Revolutionary guards of the red Turbans.
The man on the stage, a slim student with big glasses, who´s voice was meek, as he read out loudly international letters of support, barley got any attention, as the congress already had went on for twenty hours, and most had already resorted to talk with others, as the seats were split up among the many factions, the frontlines clear cut by banners, armbands and sometimes even signs of protest. Above all, the wise older brother and his clique was sitting well protected in their own little corner, armed red turbans keeping all who had no offical buisness or the approval of the wise brother in some distance...
T H E H E A V E N L Y E M P I R E
"ALL KNEEL BEFORE THE SON OF HEAVEN, EMPEROR OF ZENGRAV AND ITS PEOPLE, KHAGAN OF ALL MINGA, KING OF THE QUIN , SCOURGE OF ALL BARBARIANS, PROTECTOR OF PEACE, GUARDIAN OF THE ANCESTRAL SHRINES, SOLE HEIR TO THE THRONE AND DEFENDER OF THE REALM! ALL KNEEL BEFORE HIS HEAVENLY MAJESTY OTGONBAYAR THE V."
The young boys steps were the only sound in the room, as he slowly made his way down from his throne, towards the kneeling mass of people. Holding onto the golden silk, he did his best to look like an emperor, yet those close enough could see his hands shiver, as he slowly made his way through the kneeling crowd. "Bedtime for an emperor..."
The whisper spoke out what most people kneeling thought, yet it was silent enough, that nobody would raise a word about it. And so, the little emperor, slowly left the throne-room. Finally, the heavy doors fell shut, and the mass of people was allowed to rise again. The Lord Field Marshall Bede Sukh, was the first to make his way up the stairs, high enough that he could be seen by all in the room. "A TOAST TO THE EMPEROR AND TO VICTORY! THE HEAVENLY EMPIRE SHALL ENDURE EVER STRONGER! LONG LIVE THE EMPEROR! LONG LIVE THE HEAVENLY EMPIRE!"
Cups of fermented horse-milk were quickly given out to the people in the hall, and voices were raised to join into the cheering. And as the people disbanded from the places they had kneeled, the Lord Field Marshall remained in place, looking down at the mass, a grin moving onto his old face.