Libertatis Imperium (Gate)

[charclone]

Overall, I think your portrayal of NATO as wishy-washy in ways that make Falmart think it's weak and more a political problem than a military "game over" is realistic and well-written. And I get that you probably don't want this to end as, "And then the United States took over. AMERICA FUCK YEAH!"

Essentially.

Besides, this is near future, but no exact timeline given. So, the US, and NATO, is wary of any sort of large scale occupation (Falmart is a continent, a bit bigger than Europe, plus the Saderan overseas colonies), not to mention the breakdown of local social order, warlords rising, already high kill counts going even higher, etc.

Basically, its going for minimal necessary effort, then let the diplomats do the rest. It has drawbacks, of course, but those are easier to deal with than having to call up reserves to occupy a continent just under three times the size of Europe, against a large number of unknown factors, beyond just magic.

But yeah, main thing is not doing the whole 'Murica! thing. Story is more about Richard, Tara, Pina, etc. than yet another US-led roflstop of Falmart story, following canon.

I'm actually starting to write the last chapter before the true start of the beginnings of the Imperial Civil War, which is quite different from canon, though some sides, actors, and motivations are the same.

 

[ShadowArxxy]

I feel like at the point where you take a look at Earth-side politics, there should probably be some degree of mention of NATO political leaders making a "difficult" decision that they are going to actively conceal and downplay Imperial atrocities in order to avoid public outrage pushing for more proactive/aggressive policies.

 

[charclone]

I feel like at the point where you take a look at Earth-side politics, there should probably be some degree of mention of NATO political leaders making a "difficult" decision that they are going to actively conceal and downplay Imperial atrocities in order to avoid public outrage pushing for more proactive/aggressive policies.

The Empire hasn't exactly gotten the chance to commit any, past the initial attack and the scorched Earth policy, that NATO would even see. The Legions were crushed too fast.

Plus, not intending to focus too much on NATO politics, given the focus of the story.

 

[ShadowArxxy]

The Empire hasn't exactly gotten the chance to commit any, past the initial attack and the scorched Earth policy, that NATO would even see. The Legions were crushed too fast.

Plus, not intending to focus too much on NATO politics, given the focus of the story.

I mean atrocities in the Empire's past. If the public became aware of just how evil the Empire is, I can't imagine there wouldn't be a massive push for full-scale invasion or, if that's too risky, even indiscriminate destruction.

 

[charclone]

Molt, the next morning, met with a representative from the NATO nations.

"Your Imperial Majesty," The representative greeted with a smile. A member of the US' own senate. Part of him found it strangely familiar that they also had a senate, but the absence of a monarch was baffling, especially given how long their nation had apparently lasted.

The Saderan Republic had barely lasted a generation, before corruption and greed tore it apart, being replaced by the current Empire, nearly a thousand years ago.

"Senator," Molt Sol Augustus returned the friendly look.

They, along with a small entourage of aides, sat within a pavilion, hidden in a more private part of the Count's estate.

"As I understand it, you did not request this meeting to discuss details of the treaty?"

"Correct," Molt nodded with a sigh. "I intend to negotiate a show of good faith. NATO is supporting the Warrior Bunnies, yes?"

"As well as others," The senator, who had earlier introduced himself as Jeff Palmer, nodded. "What are you getting at?"

"I have gathered a large number of Warrior Bunnies, as well as some other demihumans, that had been enslaved. I hereby release them into NATO custody," Molt said. "This is the total number, with several august personages amongst them named."

Jeff blinked as he took the offered gold embossed vellum note from one of Molt's aides.

His eyes blinked, then narrowed as he saw the number of people and one particular name.

"I… see. On behalf of NATO I formally accept this gesture in the manner that it was offered," He frowned. "However, I must ask, I was under the impression that Queen Tyuule was the… property of your son. Is he likely to cause any issues over this?"

"I have seen to it he will not cause any issues on this matter," Molt frowned, ignoring the distaste with which the senator spoke of slavery.

"I see," The senator nodded. "Now, how do you intend to transfer these people to us?"

"I have brought several of them with me, the rest would need to be supplied either on their march to your territory or transported with your flying… things. They are not beasts, from what I understand?"

The senator winced as he realised the sheer number of supplies and logistical complications that would arise.

'Not so easy to build up an army, while feeding refugees, is it?' Molt kept the smile from his face. 'Both need food, supplies, bedding. You can't invade the Empire should negotiations break down, if you have a refugee crisis to deal with.'

"Correct. They are machines, but I will let others discuss those details with you," He sighed. "Alright, I'll get on the horn and call in some support to transport them. About the ones you brought with you, however…."

"I felt it would impolite of me to deny them the ability to reunite with family," Molt said. "And Queen Tyuule needed aides and courtiers appropriate to her station."

---

Tara glanced between Richard and Giselle later that evening.

"How!?" She demanded, careful to not raise her voice too much.

Giselle just gave her a look to convey her confusion before returning to the platter of food she had secured from the servants.

Richard, sitting on a bench in one of the Count's more secluded gardens, simply continued to give the twin dragon hatchlings attention, rubbing their chins and necks.

"Fire dragons are considered impossible to train," Tara groaned as one of the dragons nudged her hand. It leaned into her touch as she petted it. "How did you tame them?"

"Giselle did," Richard shrugged.

"Yeah, but they weren't like this," The Demigod countered through a mouthful of food before swallowing. "You've somehow turned them soft. Most of what I did was magic and raising them away from their mother."

Richard noted the synchronised look the two dragons gave her. Their expressions were too inhuman to be easily readable.

Tara sighed and sat next to him.

"Something wrong?" Richard asked as the two dragons moved away.

"I'm just… nervous," She admitted. "We tried so hard to avoid him, the count that is, yet, here we are in his estate, at a party. It's… not what I am used to."

Richard snorted.

"You at least have some idea of what to expect of the politics here," He said. "I'm fumbling and running off of second and third-hand accounts of six-to-ten-hundred-year-old politics to make an educated guess. I don't have the goodwill like I do at Alnus to cover up or excuse mistakes or insults."

"Oh, if we insult the wrong person, we might damage the treaty," Tara realised with a groan.

"…Riiiight, Molt's children are here, as are several of the senators and their families," Richard slumped. "We're going to need to be careful."

The pair sat in a depressed silence. After a moment, Tara put her arm around Richard.

Giselle gave a squawk of surprise as Mowto knocked her over, letting the two dragons snatch her snacks from where they fell.

With a shout of anger, Giselle leapt up and chased after the two, who bolted into the air.

"Should we be concerned?" A voice asked.

Richard and Tara leapt up in surprise, blinking.

Molt, his face impassive, stood next to Senator Jeff Palmer.

Tara's eyes flickered over them, to focus on a third figure with them.

Richard paled at the appearance of the Saderan Emperor, but he didn't notice the way the Warrior Bunny who was part of Tara and his protection detail tensed.

"Tyuule, I presume," He said.

Molt suppressed a slight smile at the absence of Tyuule's title.

"This is Queen Tyuule, yes," Jeff confirmed in English. "Ah, my apologies. Sir Richard, may I introduce His Imperial Majesty, Molt Sol Augustus, Emperor of the Saderan Empire. I am Jeff Palmer; I believe my friend General Jameson has mentioned me?"

"Yes, I believe you called during a meeting about this festival, actually," Richard replied, giving Tara a sidelong glance at her continued silence.

"Yes, well," Jeff gave a nervous cough. "Why don't we continue our discussion and leave Tara and her sister to talk in private?"

Richard glanced at Tara.

With a deep breath, she shook her head and shooed him off.

"Alright," Richard said, tentatively, falling into step alongside Molt and Senator Palmer. "What do you wish to speak about?"

"Well," Jeff began. "I suppose I should explain the situation. His Imperial Majesty has made the effort to secure the release of many of the Warrior Bunnies taken as slaves. Including Queen Tyuule. NATO is organising the logistical concerns to transport them to Alnus."

Richard winced.

"Senator, I don't suppose it would be possible to organise additional support for the Alnus community?" He asked, thinking of the troubles faced from the last surge of refugees. "Construction, funding, food, etc."

"Oh, yes, certainly," Jeff blinked. "I will see what I can do. But… I don't suppose, either yourself, Sir Richard, or you, Your Imperial Highness, know much about healing magic?"

Molt hummed.

"Healers of various sorts will promise miracles, I find, for pay," He said. "But rarely do they fulfil my expectations."

"I seem to recall something about a god of healing," Richard said. "But that was just rumours. As for the rest, most of what I have heard is the result of elixirs, and within the realm of our medical technology, allowing for embellishments."

Jeff sighed.

"I see, thank you,"

"You are in good health, I hope?" Molt asked, glancing at the senator.

"Oh, I am well, yes," Jeff replied. "Thank you for your concern, your Imperial Majesty. But it is my daughter who is unwell. Beyond what our capabilities can restore, though she is at least stable."

"My condolences," Molt expressed his sympathy. "My firstborn was lost to plague. It is… unpleasant to lose a child before their time."

"Now, speaking of children and the future," Molt glanced at Richard. "Sir Richard, what do you think of my daughter?"

He didn't miss the way the senator stiffened.

"Why do you ask, your Imperial Majesty?" Richard asked. Emotion bleeding into his voice. Fear and unease.

"If this treaty is to be sealed, there need to be ties between our nations," Emperor Molt explained. "I acknowledge that your traditions are likely different, but surely family is still sacred?"

"Ah," Jeff interjected. "Not particularly. I will spare you the long-winded explanation, as it can vary between individual nations, but no, family is seen as too easily broken."

"Compared to reputation and legitimacy in politics, anyway," Richard said, relieved to have avoided the topic of Pina. "That isn't to say dynasties don't exist, but they are generally informal and not all of them are viewed with respect, dependant upon their related politics."

"I see," Molt hummed. "But, there is still the matter of this world and it's politics. From what I understand, you are of noble descent, Sir Richard? What of your relationship with your king?"

Richard blinked.

"Uh," He fumbled. "I only met his Majesty once, and… I think the noble family I am distantly related to was related matrilineally to the House of Stuart?"

Molt frowned.

"And the current ruling house is…?"

"The House of Windsor, formerly House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha, now a cadet branch with the death of her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the Second," Richard replied, more confidently. At Jeff's look, he shrugged. "A matter related to one of the papers I wrote for university."

Molt hummed in understanding.

---

Tara offered her sister a seat as she stared.

On the surface, it appeared the rumours had been true, that she had been a pampered prisoner, not a slave.

She was dressed in a blue dress in Saderan fashion, made from exotic fabrics, that went well with her eyes and hair. She smelled of what once might have been called expensive perfume – though Tara had encountered superior products through the Gate – and jewellery decorated her form.

But there were gaps. Cracks in the facade.

The way she walked showed signs of injuries that didn't heal quite right. Suspiciously placed, if well done, patches of make-up. Scars that could be seen beneath the dress.

And the hollow look in her eyes, almost in shock.

Tara remembered the look well, having worn it while escaping from a Saderan camp, under the nose of a sentry, with Richard.

The look seemed completely alien, more than any of the bureaucracy of NATO had been to Tara, on Tyuule's face, who had always either worn a look of impassivity and determination or when they were along with family, away from prying eyes when they were younger, a warm smile.

"So, is Molt really just… letting you go?" Tara asked. "What about Prince Zorzal?"

Tyuule glanced at the singular guard a short distance away.

"Do you trust them?" She asked in a low voice.

"Yes?" Tara replied, confused. "He fought alongside us when we broke out of enslavement."

Tyuule's face twisted into a sadistic smirk.

"Molt and his eldest are opposed. Zorzal is most likely infuriated with my freedom," She looked at her sister. "I've been slowly feeding poison into his ear, even as he abused me. If he takes the throne, it will destroy the Empire."

Her breathing was erratic, even as she forced her features to form a collected mask.

Tara saw the fire behind her eyes.

"But with the treaty…" Tyuule narrowed her eyes. "What prevents the otherworlders from destroying the Empire?"

Tara blinked. The fire… scared her.

"Is… is revenge all that is on your mind?" She asked. "The destruction of the Empire your only goal?"

"Our people hate me," Tyuule hissed. "Our homeland is gone. Our people are scattered and enslaved. It is all I have left, and at least if the Empire falls, our people at least have a chance."

Tara slumped. She had had a hope, however faint, that her sister might be able to take the throne.

"Richard and NATO have been helping us rebuild. Our homeland is lost, yes, but our traditions are being restored. Our people survive. NATO is strongly against all slavery, which will likely be a point of the treaty," Tara explained. "As for the treaty, NATO fears the results if they did crush the Empire. Warlords across Falmart, disease, famines, guerrillas, chaos."

"Emroy's halls would be overflowing, as would Hardy's," Tyuule sighed, slumping. "Was it all for nothing?"

Tara winced, reaching up to comfort her sister, as her shoulders shook.

A noise came from Tyuule, a sobbing laugh that grew with each breath.

---

"You never answered my question, Sir Richard."

Richard suppressed a flinch as Molt spoke.

"You daughter," He began. "Is a stalwart, clever, and principled woman. But I have gotten the impression she does not particularly like me."

Molt nodded.

"She seemed to have been under the impression you were one of the people that stood to gain from the Empire's destruction, initially. However, now I believe the dislike is a matter of perceived interests," Molt said. "I suggest you take the time to speak to her. Now, I believe we have taken enough of your time today. Return to your lover and her sister."

Jeff snorted.

"Just don't miss the banquet in a few hours that our host is putting on," He called out to Richard as he began to leave.

 

[ATP]

A fair point. Still, my point of view on the Empire is -- I couldn't care less that the Empire poses no actual threat to the United States / NATO. To me, the mere fact that they practice slavery is sufficient justification for a full declaration of war and the acceptance of no terms other than abject, unconditional surrender followed by regime change.

Cost of ocupation.USA do not need another Afganistan - i knew,that they do not have modern weapons,but there are more them,and they have magic.

Overall, I think your portrayal of NATO as wishy-washy in ways that make Falmart think it's weak and more a political problem than a military "game over" is realistic and well-written. And I get that you probably don't want this to end as, "And then the United States took over. AMERICA FUCK YEAH!"

It would be boring,BUT - THEN @charclone COULD WRITE ONLY ABOUT CUTE DEMIHUMANS GIRLS !
And how they get good american husbands.

P.S it is funny,that everybody still belive that Richard is important.

 

[charclone]

As Richard stepped back into the secluded part of the garden, he paused as he caught sight of Tara and Tyuule, sitting close together.

"I'm not intruding, am I?" He asked.

"You're fine," Tara motioned him over.

"This is your lover, then?" Tyuule asked, straitening. Richard frowned as he caught a hint of something in the tone of her voice and noted her slightly dishevelled look. "Why don't you introduce me, Tara?"

"Of course," Tara said, her tone deferential, something that made Tyuule's face flicker in displeasure. "This is Sir Richard, de facto ruler of the Alnus Community, commanding officer and liege of the Long Patrol. Sir Richard, this is Tyuule… former queen of the Warrior Bunnies, and my half-sister."

"A pleasure," Richard nodded a greeting as he sat next to Tara.

"Hardly," Tyuule snorted. "I failed my people, I am despised by them, was used as a Saderan Princes' whore, and I am being used as a bargaining chip to hurt your people's attempt at uniting my people."

"What do you mean?" Tara blinked.

"I already told you that I would not be accepted being restored to the throne," Tyuule sighed. "But with all our siblings dead, that leaves only you and I as eligible. With you being connected to Richard, there are likely fears of you producing no pureblood heirs."

Tara cocked her head to the side, one ear drooping.

"But… I'm not pureblood myself?" She pointed out. "My father was… either an elf or a human?"

Tyuule shook her head.

"Mother wasn't entirely sure," She explained. "She told me, when I took the throne, that she didn't know if your father was mine, or one of the other men she slept with during that time. Once she had me, there was less pressure for her to produce a pureblood heir. She pointed out that historically, in times of a succession crisis, those of unsure parentage were accepted as pureblooded. Thus, I would have a spare I could rely on."

"Probably because it helped keep inbreeding down," Richard interjected.

Tyuule blinked at him with her red eyes as her ears, previously drooping down the sides of her face, stood up straight. She cocked her head to the side in thought.

"Yes, that might have been part of the reasoning," She accepted. "Certainly, the Queens that married their male siblings tended to be or produce poor rulers."

"Wait, wait," Tara held up her hands, glancing between the two of them. "Are you telling me that our mother kept me as a spare heir!? I don't have the training or, or… or the knowledge to be a ruler! I don't want to be queen!"

"Then who will?" Tyuule asked. "Who will ensure our people's survival? Will we be beholden to NATO? Reliant on their largess for as long as we still survive?"

The former queen laughed. It was a hollow, sad sound.

"Besides, why do you think you were always part of the lessons I received?" Tyuule smiled at her sister. "Why were you given the same training I was?"

"I was being taught to be your captain of the royal guard," Tara protested. "I… I saw what sort of stress you were under, as our queen. The sort of decisions you had to make. I don't want to have to make those decisions."

Tyuule shook her head.

"Unfortunately, we do not get to choose our paths."

Abruptly, Tara stood and stomped off. The Long Patrol Warrior Bunny hurried off after her.

Richard glanced at Tyuule, who sadly shook her head.

---

Later that evening, just as Richard was getting ready for the feast, Tara poked her head into his quarters.

"Richard?" She asked. "Sorry, I just wanted to apologise for running off earlier. I…"

Richard stepped forward, rubbing her back, as she fell silent.

"I understand," He said. "Just don't let this turn into the same sort of issue I have with my sister, alright?"

"Oh, gods," Tara paled. "If her employers find out, they'll want to be the ones tailoring the royal fashion."

"And/or use your people's fashion to sell to Earth as something 'new', modified to fit within people's tastes," Richard agreed with a groan. "I'm not telling her."

He shook his head.

"Anyway," He said, looking at her. "Are we headed to the banquet? Or should I say that you are feeling unwell?"

"No," Tara shook her head. "No, we shouldn't feed the gossip. I'm coming, but… together."

"Together," Richard agreed.

---

Pina loaded her platter.

The dishes being served were the usual Saderan fare. The required flaunting of wealth expected by society was in the range of spices used and the skill with which they had been prepared.

And the results spoke for themselves.

The amount of salt was almost eye-watering on some foods and exorbitant expense, but it was paired quite well so that while one could taste it, it did not detract from the flavour of the food.

Other spices, both familiar and foreign and all equally exotic to her senses, had been equally balanced. The product of coordinating with some NATO chefs, Pina noted.

Based on Zorzal's cries and shouts, as well as demands for more, he too was enjoying the food.

"Must you make so much of a fuss, brother?" Diabo complained. Pina noted, with no little amount of amusement, that his platter was just as full as Zorzal's.

Pina let her gaze wander as she reclined on the reclining couch, eating a few morsels.

She noted the way the parties had gathered in the feasting hall, around a large fire that provided warmth and light as the sunlight dimmed. She and her family, alongside courtiers, were in one corner, while the NATO party had split into three.

Those in the black garments, with a white undershirt, were making their rounds, speaking with other guests, often through translators, while those she recognised as NATO soldiers, officers presumably, seemed content to hang near, but still separate, from Richard's group.

Richard's group, including Tara and Tyuule, alongside people dressed in the uniform of the Long Patrol, seemed content to simply stay in their corner, for now, at least.

What Pina noted strange was the presence of Countess Myui among Richard's group. As Pina watched, the young girl seemed to chat with great excitement to the foreign knight, displaying a ring with a five-pointed gold star and a silver crescent moon on its surface, gems inset flickering.

While Pina didn't know the significance, she did note the way Richard seemed both amused and surprised by it.

While Pina was curious, the distance was too great, and the fire's cracking too loud, for her to overhear the conversation without moving closer.

She shrugged, chewing a piece of cheese, and set her curiosity aside.

---

"…and several of the maids have begun quietly debating the conversations in the game," Myui grinned as she recounted the repercussions of the Elder Scrolls series being unleashed on her demesne. "I have been having great fun with it, myself, even if I don't understand how the machine works."

"Honestly, I only know the most basic principles," Richard admitted to the countess. "Still, I'm glad to see you are enjoying them, and my compliments to the ring smith who made the replica of the Moon-and-Star ring."

"Thank you," Myui giggled. "Have you introduced Tara to the series?"

"No," Richard glanced at Tara as she let out a sudden laugh, Tyuule having said something that elicited the response. He turned back to the countess before continuing "Honestly, between Alnus and the Long Patrol, we've been too busy."

"Oh," Myui nodded. "I understand. I've only been able to play a few hours a day and it counts as my lessons in English. I suppose I am fortunate that my father trusted the maids to assist in the governance of Italica."

"The downside of rulership," Richard said, with another glance at Tara. "If you're doing your job properly, you don't have the luxury of doing other things, unless you have people you can rely on."

 

[1stSergeant MagicalGeek]

Honestly, I'm more worried about someone wanting to use Richard for politics

 

[charclone]

As the second phase of the dinner loomed, Count Arruns Lu Bonifatius fumed, nearly shaking from nerves and anger.

"Damn him," He muttered, pacing in front of his wife.

The woman he had married, three decades ago, simply ignored her husband's muttering, continuing to write letters in the dying light.

"He's made a damned mess of things," Count Arruns continued. "Now what am I supposed to do? Months of our planning is about to go up in smoke."

The countess sighed, rolling her eyes, and set the otherworlder pen aside, turning to her husband.

"If you are quite finished ranting about it, why not help me solve the problem?"

Her husband flinched under her gaze.

"Of course, of course," He sighed. "It's just… everything was upset, by something I never expected him to pull…. In hindsight, I should have. Prince Zorzal had gotten lazy, so of course the Emperor would take the opportunity. Well, we can't separate Sir Richard from Lady Tara, and we can't in good conscience separate her from Queen Tyuule."

His wife snorted.

"Yes, that I already know dear husband," She rolled her eyes. "The problem is how to organise the tables without slighting anyone."

"Oh," Count Arruns said. "Yes, yes of course dear, my apologies."

"Now, we have less than an hour until the musicians finish their entertainment, and the main course begins. We need to reorganise the seating arrangement in time for the servants to reorganise the tables," His wife explained. "Simply organising them based on social rank won't work, now. We can't split tables between factions, that would lead to conflict. What about based on military accomplishment, balanced by social rank?"

Count Arruns hummed.

"No… I don't think Sir Richard has the sufficient rank or accomplishment to sit near the head table. He would likely share a table with Princess Pina, sitting lower than Prince Zorzal. That would keep them away from each other… but might split up Tara and Tyuule, depending on how their ranks are interpreted."

"Tara was the leader of Tyuule's royal guard, was she not?" the countess pointed out. "That should be enough to put her at the same table as Sir Richard and Tyuule… but Princess Pina represents an issue."

The count frowned.

"What do you mean?" He asked, sitting next to her. "She participated in the defence of Italica, has a high social rank, commands her knights… I do not see the issue."

"One of the servants overheard a rumour, that the Emperor is considering offering Princess Pina's hand to Sir Richard, both to stabilise the Empire and tie ourselves to NATO," His wife explained. "Whether it is true or not, especially if it is not, it risks stepping on the Emperor's toes. What if it appears we are trying to push that issue?"

Count Arruns sighed.

"My dearest, you know as well as I that there are always risks like that," He sighed. "Better than I, even, given the spat that nearly kept us apart."

She fell silent for several moments before breaking into a cackle.

"Oh, oh my, yes," She placed the pen down as the cackles turned into full-blown laughter. "Ah, how could I forget? I introduced you to a friend of mine, and that nearly dragged you into a feud her family had with, who was it again, the governor of the Blue Sea coast's family? Your parents nearly ended our betrothal to avoid it."

"And I, in protest, threatened to throw away my inheritance just to be with you," He smiled at her. "Oh, and I duelled the governor's son. I even won."

"Yes," She sighed, resting her hand on his. "… I think that might have been why he was so sure of himself. We raised him on stories of victories, but never told him of the costs, never tried to temper him."

The count winced at the mention of his deceased son.

A duel, with lives on only one side, and honour on the other. The count knew he shouldn't have acted as he had when his son lost. Sir Richard had more to lose, and nothing to gain, than he did, even with the loss of his son. Count Arruns had tarnished the honour of his house, when he lashed out, swapping Sir Richard with soldiers, intent on capturing the murderer of his son.

The Count had no intention of making the same mistake again, not when it had quickly cost him, and others, more lives when he tried to pursue Sir Richard before NATO took Alnus hill.

A small, timid shape poked its head into the study.

"C-Count Arruns," A small child said, stuttering. "Um, the servants are asking about the seating."

The count stood, gently lifting the small boy into his arms. One of the children of his soldiers who had died following his orders to pursue Sir Richard. Count Arruns had taken them in, all of those orphaned by his madness and loss, adopting them as his own. It was a mere fraction of what he felt necessary to make amends, but he would do all he could.

"Thank you," The count said, smiling sadly. "We just finished discussing the arrangements. Have you been enjoying your party?"

The children had been given their own section of the estate, overseen by servants, where they wouldn't bother their parents, entertained by a hired troupe, and given a feast.

The small boy nodded.

"Countess Myui was showing us art from a story she was gifted by Sir Richard," The boy muttered. He visibly missed his father, as did others. The count did his best to comfort them, but he knew the agony they felt in their hearts was not one easily quelled.

"Ah, I am glad to hear that," He smiled at the boy. "Now… why did the servants ask you to find me, instead of one of them?"

"'Dunno," Came the answer. "They smelled a little funny though."

The count frowned, waryness creeping into his features. His eyes focused on a patch of shadow, in the hallway, near where the boy had poked his head in.

The patch of shadow didn't flicker in time with the light from the flames.

Gently the count set the boy down, giving him a few words of encouragement, before sending him back to the children's party, making to walk out the door and down the hallway in another direction.

Instead, he swung around, pulling a hidden knife from his robes and flicked it end over end at the person hidden in the shadows.

They were faster, stepping aside and leaning downwards to avoid the blade, they darted down along the flagstones, before leaping through a window. The shadow that obscured them never left their body as they moved.

The count hissed as he collected his knife.

"Shadow breath cloaks," He cursed silently. "Expensive, very expensive, but not an assassin, they didn't position themselves for it."

Those who could afford the ruinously expensive elixir were rare, especially those who could afford enough to douse a cloak in the substance long enough to give the cloak that effect. The ingredients were rare, found only in places with extremely high concentrations of magic, with the knowledge of how to refine them into the elixir just as rare.

Most senators couldn't afford it, though a group of them pooling their resources together might pull it off. Prince Diabo certainly could. Prince Zorzal might have been able to, right after he conquered the Warrior Bunnies, but he had squandered all of it since then. Princess Pina certainly couldn't, she spent her money on her knights, as well as maintaining her estates.

A few governors could, but those were the ones who controlled the sources anyway.

Count Arruns told his wife to organise the servants for the upcoming dinner, before stalking down the hallway.

He had no idea who would want to spy on him. But they were well funded and half-decent at it.

But half-decent wasn't the same as being good enough. His guards at the estate were not amateurs, nor were the NATO soldiers, or the emperor's guards.

True, one of the other two parties might be behind it, but even if they were, he doubted it would cause problems in the search. At the very least, two parties would be searching for them. They would be found.

Count Arruns refused to let himself be made a fool of, not again. Not when there is more on the line than just his tarnished honour.

 

[Spartan303]

Who knew dinner preparations could be so stressful.

 

[1stSergeant MagicalGeek]

Who knew dinner preparations could be so stressful.

Mostly because the era and timeline of that world is when poisons and assassins liked to see those plans

 

[charclone]

Who knew dinner preparations could be so stressful.

Mostly because the era and timeline of that world is when poisons and assassins liked to see those plans

Not to mention diplomacy was a rather personal arena, where there was little distinction between the relationships between notables and the relationships between nations or other political entities, meaning keeping people generally happy during a meal was a good way to avoid feuds, wars, and unwanted drama.

 

[ATP]

So,magic is usefull,but very costly.Logical, otherwise Saderans would beat USA here,or at least stop them.

 

[charclone]

Prince Zorzal, eldest child of Molt Sol Augustus, Propraetor Bellatrix Lepus Terra, and who, in his mind, should be crown prince, fumed.

Despite the front he put on and the mask he wore, he was angry.

Furious.

His father stole his prize, won fairly in war, to placate NATO. As if they were the supplicants! The Saderan Empire was the largest, greatest empire to have ever existed on Falmart, yet his father squandered that, showing his belly after only a single fight.

The Arctic War had not been won because the Empire negotiated or surrendered after the first defeat, no! It had held on, struggled through the loss of several legions, and prevailed!

Zorzal grit his teeth and kept his fury contained.

The idiot count was in league with his father. During the second half of the dinner, Tyuule had been kept away from him.

Zorzal was also not blind.

He knew his brother Diabo planned to stab him in the back and claim the throne, just as his father was planning to either use him as a puppet after he retired or Pina.

He would admit, it was a decent plan. Pina was a poor political player, so wrapped up in her childish ideas of chivalry and not understanding the way the real world worked, that she would be chained to Molt through his advice.

But that still was a slap in the face of everything Zorzal had accomplished. All the glories earned from defeating the Warrior Bunnies and conquering their lands, cast aside.

So wrapped up in his fury, even as he outwardly seemed bored, sitting alone in his quarters, he almost missed Bouro stepping from the shadows.

The rat-faced demihuman bowed, showing the proper deference for someone of his station.

"My prince," He growled. "My apologies for my spy's failure, their attempt at getting close to the Count resulted in heightened security."

"You punished them?" Zorzal grunted the question.

"Severely. They will not repeat this mistake," Bouru said.

"Good," Zorzal sighed. "What of Tyuule and my siblings?"

"We were… unable to get close to any of them," Bouro flinched, still bowed. "Due to the heightened security."

Zorzal snarled.

"I expect better of you, Burou," He spat. "Is there anything else to report?"

"Yes, it would seem that the count wishes to speak with Sir Richard, in the morning, just after the morning meal," Bouru said. "It would be risky, but I could send an agent to listen in."

"No, bribe a servant," Zorzal waved him off. "I suspect I know what will be discussed. My father is using the count as his agent to secure his connections to NATO. Too much of a coward to admit he is submitting to them."

The prince spat.

"Leave me."

"As you wish, Your Highness."

---

Breakfast had been a simple fare, but it sat heavy in his stomach. He was nervous due to the request to speak to him from the count, as he walked towards the main residence of the estate.

A servant guided him to the inner courtyard where Count Arruns waited.

The countess appeared, briefly, as Richard was shown a seat, to place a tray of snacks, while another servant prepared tea.

Richard, despite knowing the insult it presented in this setting, refused the offered cup.

The count's eyes flickered to the member of the Long Patrol standing just far away enough to be polite, without being so out of reach the Warrior Bunny would be unable to intercept an attacker headed for her charge. His expression remained relaxed.

He deliberately ignored the click of taloned feet on the roof tiles above them.

Richard noted it was only after the countess was gone that the count spoke.

"Thank you, Sir Richard, for agreeing to meet with me," Count Arruns said, taking a sip from his cup of tea. "I… wished to speak of the… wounds between us."

As the Count spoke, hesitantly, Richard kept his nerves from showing by noting the design of the teacup, which was a handless design, not introduced to Europe until around the 17th century, suggesting either a facet of culture carried over by relatively recent immigrants, such as Hannah's sword, or perhaps influences from East Asia, a Gate appearing in the distant past carrying those influences.

"I made mistakes," The count admitted, continuing. "One of them was going through the Gate, but worse was the insult and indignity I forced upon you, made worse by my conduct after the death of my son. You may have held the blade but my own failures as his father are what killed him."

Richard flinched.

A spot on his head ached with the memory of the blow from a shield. For a moment, his suit felt restricting.

His hand clenched and he resisted the urge to swallow.

"I… see," He said, lamely.

The Count sighed.

"I understand your hesitance to believe me," He said, nodding sadly. "I hounded you back to the Gate, and the conduct I showed, as well as that of my countrymen, has no doubt done nothing to improve your opinion of us. Regardless, I am compelled by conscience, more than honour or pride, to apologise, and offer what I can in recompense."

Richard forced himself not to react as his mind raced.

He knew what this was. A negotiation for settlement. Something he was ill-prepared for.

His mind raced as he struggled to come up with a reply.

"I…" He stopped himself before he sounded like a broken record. The silence began to drag on. "… why blame yourself for your son's death?"

"Because," The count sighed, sorrow bleeding into his tone. "I failed him as a father. Too lenient, I didn't impress upon him the importance of caution, of listening to others. Worse, I had encouraged him to join the expedition into your world. I let his arrogance grow, when I should have curbed it, I…"

Count Arruns gave a sad sigh.

"My apologies," Richard said, regretting his words. "It was not my intention to dredge up pain."

"No, no," The count waved him off. "You asked an honest question. Given what I have done to you, the question was well warranted."

The count refilled his cup.

"The soldiers of mine that were lost… I have adopted their children as my own, and I fully intend on doing well by them," Count Arruns stared into his cup and chuckled. "At least my house is not at risk of dying out, now."

"Now," He looked back up at Richard. "How can I begin to make amends?"

Richard stared at the man for several moments.

Blinking, he made to reply, slowly and uncertain.

"I… don't know," He said, answering honestly. "I… can understand your position… but… I…."

Richard found himself, once more, struggling for words.

"I… my apologies," He struggled out. "I… think I need some time to think this over."

The Count started, blinking, his face flushed with embarrassment.

"Of course, of course," He nodded rapidly. "I did not mean to force the issue, not at all, my apologies. I understand that this is a... difficult topic, for the both of us. Still, at least there is peace between our nations, or will be soon."

"Oh, don't jinx it," Richard groaned.

The Count gave him a confused look.

---

"Will none of you will see reason?" Zufmuut pleaded. "The threat-"

"Is no longer present," The god of the sea responded. "With a god to rule Apocryph, the threat is gone, and we have clearly made mistakes. NATO is more powerful, powerful enough I doubt all our demigods could crush them."

"I will side with you, Zufmuut, but there is a price," The goddess of the southern wind said. "I want the Empire to crush the pirates within my domain. They have begun to worship an old god of piracy, one that should learn to stay dead."

Zufmuut hid his wince. That was his fault. The god of piracy had offered his support, in exchange for being permitted to re-establish his cult on Falmart.

"I will consider it, but thank you," He said. He might be able to convince the pirates to head elsewhere or serve as privateers for the Empire.

The other gods, who ruled things beyond Falmart, were more split. Some, it seemed, remembered tales of Apocryph, and sided with him, while others wanted the Empire gone.

Most were content to sit on the sidelines.

Zufmuut despaired. It wouldn't be enough. Too few of worth sided with him, and even fewer wouldn't betray him.

At this rate, he would have to take actions he dreaded.

The God of Piracy had been gone, but not outright forgotten, not dead. Other gods, however, were nearly dead. They, however, might be willing, in exchange for a return to power and mortal worship, to aid him.

But there was a reason some of them had been forgotten by mortals.

 

[Spartan303]

Very interesting developments. Count Arruns and Sir Richard making their peace or at least trying too. Zorzal getting frustrated by NATO security and not being able to abuse his favorite toy. Though I got to admit that Zorzal is probably right about Molt using Pina. She IS way too Naïve and her head filled with thoughts of Chivalry and honor. I wish the real world worked like that, but it doesn't.

 

[ATP]

So,Molt had good idea to use Pina as puppet,Zorzal would fuck it,but why Bouro still support him? it is claer,that Zorzal would lead Empire to fall,and Bouro wanted to rule it from shadows,not destroy.


Zufmuut would do something stupid,too,fail,but new/old cunt gods would come to play.

 

[charclone]

Despite the heightened security, the party continued.

Richard found the anachronistic mix of events amusing, though he would have been fine not participating in the 'hunt' that the count had arranged, where prey animals local to Falmart were chased through a garden, boxed in by walls that 'hunters' could stand behind and shoot short bows at, with prizes being awarded to those who killed the largest creatures, most difficult to hit, and the most animals.

The movie had been one he had already seen, though based on the shouts he had heard, Zorzal had enjoyed it.

The dance, however, he had enjoyed. As it turned out, Tara knew how to dance. He would have preferred if it hadn't been necessary to dance with a few others. He could swear that Pina was quite disgruntled by the dance they had been forced to share.

The final event, however, was a play.

As Hamlet faked his kidnapping, Richard found himself pulled away by Senator Palmer.

"My apologies, but could I borrow a moment of your time?" The American senator asked, leading him away from the amphitheatre, Tara, and a pair of Long Patrol soldiers in tow. Once a safe distance away from any crowd, the senator turned back to Richard. "Now, as I understand it, the meeting with the Count was him essentially asking how to apologise?"

"Correct," Richard responded, curious as to why the Senator was asking. "He… asked how it could amends could be made. I… asked for time to think it over."

"Good, good," Jeff sighed. "If I may be so bold as to offer advice, keep in mind his potential goals and position."

"What, are you suggesting I try and fleece him?" Richard snorted, his mind wandering to stereotypes about politicians. "Honestly, I'd rather not have to be around him. I… don't hate him. Hell, I can empathise with him, given the loss of my own father despite the age of the wound."

"So can I," Jeff sat down on a delicately carved bench. "I still remember that gut-wrenching terror when I nearly lost my daughter. But distancing yourself is a bad idea, at least for now. He likely has political reasons for the steps, probably wants the same as you, to simply avoid you."

"I'm not suggesting you ask anything grand from him. Just that you ask him to… say, add his weight to secure a peace treaty and help abolish slavery?" The senator shrugged. "I'm not expecting much, not yet, but the sooner that movement gets going, the better it will be for everyone."

"What do you mean by that?" Tara spoke up, standing next to Richard. "I agree with ending slavery, but how would it make things better?"

"Trade," Jeff shrugged. "Better economy, lots of reasons. When we get back to Alnus, before I head back state-side, I can give you a rundown. Did a project on this in university. But the short of it is that, due to industrialisation, slavery is a deadweight and a blight, for more than just the moral reasons."

He held up his hands.

"That isn't to say we expect Falmart to be a major market, but as long as the Gate stays open, there are interest groups that believe it is worth investing here, expecting it to become a major market over time."

"And… the treaty facilitates that," Richard noted.

"Well, I'm personally more invested in medical advances from studying the new flora, fauna, alchemy, and magic," Jeff admitted. "But yes. It would, if quietly publicised, earn you some goodwill in certain circles."

Tara gave a low groan of disgust.

"Politics," She grimaced.

Senator Palmer shrugged.

"Honestly, I enjoy it," He stated. "The negotiating, the puzzling out of people's intentions and goals, the finding of acceptable compromises. But I can understand why some might turn away at the thought."

"Anyway," Richard interjected. "I will take your advice under consideration… and I suppose I should speak to him before the festival ends and we leave."

"That would likely be best," Jeff grinned. "Relax, it won't be that bad."

He waved and walked off back towards the play.

Richard sighed and sat on the now vacant bench.

"Look on the bright side," Tara offered with a weak smile as she sat next to him. "At least you know how my people feel, at the idea of working with the Empire."

Richard shook his head.

"Sorry," Tara apologised, leaning against him.

"Don't make light of your people's suffering," Richard grunted. "Long as it doesn't dictate their future. But… honestly, I'm just… confused? I think? And off put by the situation. I've read about plenty of medieval and classical diplomacy and culture, but… this is different, real, not simply ancient history. No advantage of hindsight to weigh the costs."

The pair sat in silence for some time, taking solace in each other's company, while mulling things over in their minds.

"How about we change the subject?" Tara suggested. "What do you think about the treaty?"

"As far as I know, the details haven't been hammered out. I know NATO is going to retain control of Alnus, under conditions considering its religious significance, and the surrounding territory is going to be handed over as well," Richard said. "I also know that the Empire will be paying some form of reparations for the invasion, and damages it inflicted, but I don't know if that will go towards your people."

Tara hummed, taking a moment to consider things before speaking.

"Do you think it will last?" She finally asked. "The Empire… didn't keep to Tyuule's agreement. I've also heard rumours that it slowly erodes its vassals over time. Between that and the sudden invasion, I am loathe to trust them."

"I think Molt is smart enough to see the dangers in antagonising NATO," Richard thought about it. "I don't know about the rest of the Saderan's government, but if it does end, I suspect there will be an ocean of Saderan blood. The question I'm worried about is who gets caught up in the flood that causes."

"How lurid and ghastly an image," Tara snorted. "A flood of blood washing people away."

"Given the expected casualties of the collapse of the Empire, as well as the numbers of legionaries killed on the battlefield by modern armaments?" Richard said. "It's not completely hyperbole."

"Well, I won't shed any tears about the soldiers," Tara said. "But I'll agree with you that the Empire collapsing into anarchy and civil war bodes poorly. At the very least, it would mean a lot of refugees headed to Alnus town, and we are barely keeping on top of that as it is."

Richard nodded.

"… Probably the best option, Senator Palmer's suggestions, that is," He said after a moment. "If we use his offered contacts, with the price being the support for the treaty, it might make us better off for the refugee situation, especially with more Warrior Bunnies coming, freed from slavery."

Tara winced.

"More people wanting me to be queen," She groaned.

Richard reached around and rubbed her shoulders in sympathy.

---

"Then your father will support the treaty?" Pina asked.

The young knight, a member of the Red Roses lance, Pina's command, nodded. Her father was, while only a baron, highly influential, with several of his siblings married to more powerful noble families. His word carried a great deal of weight.

"Yes, Your Highness," She said. "He has also sent my younger brother to serve under your command as a show of support."

"Thank you," Pina dismissed her a moment later.

As she reclined on a couch, she considered her political position.

There was a steady flow of new recruits for the Order of the Rose, many from nobles, middling in rank, seeking to further their political relevance. Others believed in the codes of chivalry and honour, graduates from the few knightly schools scattered around the Empire's major cities, directed her way by her father, rather than sent to any of the more regimented knightly orders that served under the emperor.

So far, few senators had been willing to voice an opinion, probably waiting for her father to take a stance.

It wasn't bad, not with how the Senatoria Familia relied on the Equestria Familia to manage and run lands, as well as provide officers for the Imperial Army.

But it wasn't enough to guarantee a permanent end to the war. Her father was schooling her in politics, but he had yet to explain why he was waiting for the draft of the treaty before he made more public statements about ending the war.

She could guess; perhaps he wanted to see which of the senate was reliable, or perhaps he wanted her to gather enough political power to stand on her own – something that scared her, if she was honest to herself since she had no political ambitions, her knights were enough – or perhaps he was simply waiting to see what NATO demanded for peace.

Pina found it unlikely NATO would demand a great deal. They had so much more, and were capable of so much more, than the Empire. It had little to offer them, especially with NATO's stance on slavery.

She rubbed her head.

"Of course, with him not being part of the negotiations, Sir Richard is probably basking in his victory still, like Zorzal did after he conquered the Warrior Bunnies," She grumbled. "Part of me wishes he had to suffer as I do."

 

[ATP]

Yep,Richard is basking in glory like Zorzal,Pina is 100% right!
Jokes aside - it is funny how Saderans do not undarstandt his position,but i hope,that he would not die becouse of that.

 

[Spartan303]

Yep,Richard is basking in glory like Zorzal,Pina is 100% right!
Jokes aside - it is funny how Saderans do not undarstandt his position,but i hope,that he would not die becouse of that.

Or Molt might have Pina marry him to seal an Alliance and possibly bring Canada into the Empire. It'll never work but I could see Molt trying it.

 

[charclone]

Or Molt might have Pina marry him to seal an Alliance and possibly bring Canada into the Empire. It'll never work but I could see Molt trying it.

Molt is already aware that Richard isn't high enough to bring Canada into the Empire. At most, he might think it could seal an alliance with Alnus under NATO, or be used to bring the Empire into NATO, lacking information on how nations join.

But Molt is also smart enough to recognise he is dealing with a lot of unknowns, so he is hedging his bets, bidding his time, learning more about NATO, and mostly trying to keep the Empire from imploding.