Libertatis Imperium (Gate)

Why not roman politics? made desert,and call it peace.
That's... not really politics. That's policy. Related, but not the same thing.
why not ADATS
Mostly, the level of training required and logistics.

Artillery you can train people to handle direct fire duties, and they can sort of grok ballistic arcs enough with experience. Given more time, and they can eventually understand the math needed to predict those arcs.

But radar directed weapons requires more complex skills, which would take far longer to train up. Not to mention none of the Long Patrol would be qualified to drive or maintain the thing.
 
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Chapter 83
"Brother!" Diabo leapt from his seat as Zorzal strode into the room. "I was overjoyed to hear you had recovered, but shouldn't you be resting?"

"You needn't worry yourself over me!" Zorzal boasted back before his tone became more yearning. "How is father?"

Diabo flinched.

"Ailing, still," The younger of the two said. "The healers say there is little they can do, aside from strengthen him. The poison he must defeat himself. Still, there is hope: you recovered."

Zorzal met Diabo's eyes, and instead of boasting of his recovery, silently sat down across from him.

"I recovered by the grace of the gods," Zorzal admitted quietly. "But father is old. His strength seeping away with the years… what of Pina?"

Diabo sat down with a sigh.

"Father sent her to Italica," He said, a hand cupping his jaw. "He also sent orders to various legions. One of which I heard was sent to the NATO border, replacing the one there."

Zorzal scoffed.

"Father is in no state to be giving orders. With him being sick… well, I was not in any state to be giving orders with any coherence," He declared. Diabo agreed, though he mentally added in the fear that death staring their father in the face might inspire some form of sentimentality in the old man, leading to less than wise decisions regarding the Empire. "Has the senate made any moves?"

"No," Diabo shook his head. "With both father and you being poisoned; they became paralysed by fear and suspicion."

"… and you have found nothing to hint at who's responsible?"

"No. Pina wouldn't do it, she cares too much for our father, not to mention she stood to gain the most with him well and… alive. The senate… many would have loved to do it, but none would have been able to get past the guards and protections," Diabo said. "I just have a hard time imagining how anyone could get past father's protections."

Zorzal hummed as he finally sat down across from his brother.

The long table they sat at, using only one end, had been installed decades ago, and used for feasts. Now, it was a common meeting spot for the two brothers. Distant enough from most foot traffic in the main palace, but close enough to a kitchen for Zorzal's tastes.

Initially, it had been selected as a private place, but now Diabo felt the isolation and empty room unnerving and uncomfortable as it descended into silence.

The silence was broken when Zorzal called for a servant to bring in the food, Diabo having had it prepared in expectation when he heard Zorzal had recovered and wanted to talk with him. Soon, the two silently ate, Diabo patiently waiting as Zorzal digested both the food and his words.

"Let's set aside who could have done it for now," Zorzal spoke up, finishing his second plate of roasted meats and bread and wiping sauce from his face with a napkin. "We know what we'd do if you found them… but what are we going to do now? Has father declared Pina his heir?"

"He tried to," Diabo admitted. "But I was able to get the senate to halt it, due to father being sick and absent from the meeting."

Zorzal frowned at how close things had gotten, a look of what Diabo thought was fear at being relegated to second to Pina.

"So," Zorzal said slowly. "What does that mean for us?"

"If father recovers, we simply need to take advantage of Pina being absent," Diabo explained. "Undermine her supporters, rally more support, earn favours."

"And if father dies?" Zorzal's eyes narrowed.

"If that happens… then we will need to ensure we have enough support in the Senate, or failing that, enough support in the army to press our claim," Diabo's voice hitched at the thought of their father dying. It seemed unlikely, but he would admit that the possibility had to be entertained, if only to be thoroughly prepared for what the gods intended. "I doubt it will come to an actual war, so there is little risk of that. Pina wouldn't want any bloodshed. Enough show of force should be enough."

Zorzal was silent as he digested the information, before nodding.

"Pina has always been soft," He said, before tearing into a third helping, muttering around the meat as he continued. "I can handle the legions. You get the senate in line."

He paused in consideration, a pastry held loosely in his hand.

"There is one more thing," Zorzal set the food down, picking up the knife and spinning it loosely in his figures. "Relating to how I survived the poison."

At Diabo's confused look, Zorzal just grinned before slicing his hand open to his brother's panic. A moment later, Diabo's face fell slack.




"Can we trust him?" Bouro asked from the shadows as Zorzal left the hall, an hour and meal later. "Given his scheming, he could be planning to betray you."

Zorzal, not without doubt, scoffed.

"He couldn't control the army without me," He boasted, partly to dissuade his own fears and suspicions. "Without me, he couldn't even rule. He's too scrawny… and he could never command the respect of the people."

Yet still Sol's warning whispered in his mind.

"Of course, your highness," Bouro apologised. "My humblest apologies for doubting, but your safety and success are my sole reason for being."

Zorzal snorted.

"Now, how has your pursuit of who was responsible fared?"

Bouro winced in the darkness.

"Poorly, my prince," Came his reply. "The poison was rare, but with so many alchemists attracted into the city by the Emperor's… and our own, pursuit of new weapons to fight NATO with, there is an extremely large number of potential suppliers and poisons that one could have had access to."

Zorzal scowled. The idea that the culprit would get away, that the investigation would fail to find them… made a rage bubble up in him. Tinged with an illogical fear, as after all, he was a demigod, what could harm him?

"I want them found," He grunted to the demihuman spymaster. "Do you understand me? They tried to kill me, and if not for the gods, they would have succeeded. Now my father still lies dying. I want them found."




Dimmu hobbled down the alley, careful to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

At his god's warning, he paused, leaning against the wall as he rested. The clatter of armour and thump of feet indicated a patrol passed by the alley's entrance.

Sitting on the edge of the Glass Sea, the port city was normally busier than it currently was, but the territorial changes, and loss of several legions to NATO, had curbed trade in the region. The massive surge in piracy in the area had nearly killed it.

Still, it was home to many traders, if fewer than it normally hosted. Trade goods from the former Imperial Vassals and independent city-states west of the Dumas mountains all filtered overland to this port. Some of it headed north, through NATO territory and Alnus, while the rest went along the coast through treacherous cliffside paths or over the sea by ship.

It was a centre of power; if much reduced from its former heights.

And that was why Dimmu had been led here by his god.

Coming to the door of one of the least recognised powerbrokers in the city, hidden in a deep alley, he gently knocked.

A slit opened on the door, and he saw a pair of eyes take him in. They widened in the realisation of what he was.

"If you come for shelter, brother, seek it elsewhere," The voice on the other side of the door spoke. "The inns here are welcoming of our coin, if not every establishment enjoys our presence."

"I come as a messenger and priest," He replied truthfully. "Information of goings on in Sadera and a way to further profit from the trade going to Alnus."

"And why should be believe you?"

Dimmu coughed before answering.

"Because," He rasped. "I am not capable of harming anyone. The Haryo tribe saw to that."

A second voice, muffled by the door, spoke. Dimmu couldn't make out the words, but he recognised the tone.

The door was held open for him. Soon, he was escorted down into a disused meeting room. In the shadows, guards watched him.

"I thank you for seeing me," Dimmu said with a slight bow. "It is unfortunate that the merchant families that control the city do not fully recognise the wealth of the Chimeric Brotherhood."

"You are one of Bouro's agents, then?" The oldest chimaera that sat at the dusty table said. "We will not bow our heads to him."

"No," Dimmu snorted. "I want Bouro dead, and I follow Palapon to see that come to fruition. The Haryo with him. I am a free agent and priest to the god. He has directed me to you."

A second Chimera snorted, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

A third huffed. A sound of amusement, Dimmu noted, rather than disbelief.

The three chimaeras that sat across from where he stood were dressed extremely well. Bouro would have been furious at them.

They were the leaders, or their representatives, of the Chimeric Brotherhood. A gathering of various half-breeds and unrecognised demi-human beings that had grown from a mere gang to a proper merchant organisation. Dimmu had initially heard of them from traders he had worked with and for. They were, like the Haryo, a shadowy organisation. Unlike the Haryo, who shrouded themselves in secrecy and shadows to grasp at power, the Brotherhood instead sought wealth, both to support themselves and gain recognition from the other merchant houses, their secrecy a defence against jealous rivals and arrogant governors seeking a cheap and quick influx of cash.

They had gained it, of sorts. They held no official place on the council, that governed beneath the Imperial governor, but they held enough political sway that most other houses at least considered them.

"My name is Dimmu, and I have a proposition for the Brotherhood," Dimmu continued. "NATO bears our kind no ill-kept contempt, nor distrust. All beings on Falmart are new to them. They are also supporting many who wish to expand trade networks through the Gate."

"You want us to support a trade expedition?" The female chimera scoffed. "No. We are not money lenders, nor are we fools."

"Not at all," Dimmu shook his head. "It is precisely because you are not fools that I was directed to you. What I suggest is to send a few agents, to verify my claims. I can offer a letter of introduction to Sir Richard and Lady Tara, who are the lords of Alnus town. I can also provide a sample of what the members of NATO can offer to trade."

From his tattered robes, still stained with the dust of the road, he pulled the camera from a pocket.

As he explained and demonstrated the device, he smiled to himself as he saw their eyes light up with wonder and greed. Not the greed of desire, he noted, but in recognition of opportunity.

"As for what I ask in exchange…" Dimmu paused, leaving the camera for them to inspect and play with. "I'm sure you can recognise the precarious situation the city is in, given recent events."

"You… are not asking us to overthrow the governor," Once more, it was the female chimaera speaking. "What are you asking?"

"If, and only if, it comes to war," Dimmu coughed as he explained. "Then I simply ask that when NATO forces take the city, you do nothing to oppose them, barring protecting yourselves, of course."

The trio of chimaera withdrew to discuss the matter, sending him away to be called upon later.

He was not concerned. Even if they chose to ignore him, the trade that they already knew was available at Alnus was enticing. With his gift of the camera, they had a better idea of just what could be gained.

With his god whispering in his ear the next steps, he happily walked down the path, little caring about the consequences of his plot. So long as Bouro died and his ambitions were shattered, he would be content. If the world was brighter for it? All the greater, and he would thank those that brought it about. But it was not for him to do.

He paused at the entrance to the alley as his god told him something.

"So, old Molt is dying?" He hummed to himself. "I don't believe I am responsible… but no matter. Bouro won't miss the chance to place his puppet on the throne… and that will be where he makes his mistake."

He cackled to himself as he guided his twisted and malformed body towards an inn. Eventually, he would make his way to Alnus. News had to be delivered if it was to be acted upon. He wondered whether it would be Tara or Tyuule who would see the coming storm first.
 
Chapter 84
"Lord Richard!" Countess Myui Formal didn't hide her delight at seeing the Canadian medieval reenactor-turned-noble lord enter the Formal Palace. The young girl's face split into a wide grin, almost bouncing on the spot. "Welcome back to Italica!"

"Thank you, your grace," Richard replied formally, but couldn't keep a smile from forming in response to the girl's sheer exuberance. "My compliments on your English."

The girl giggled. Next to her, the head maid simply sighed, with a heavily put-upon expression etched into her features.

"I greatly enjoyed the games you sent me with the computer," Myui said, switching to Courtly Saderan, her tone becoming more formal as she remembered herself, though her excitement still bled through. "They helped a great deal with learning English and are great fun. Several of the maids have also spent time learning to use the computer, as well."

Unbidden, the image of an IT worker dressed in a maid uniform struggling to explain to someone that the reason the computer wasn't working was because it wasn't plugged in, appeared in Richard's mind. He struggled back a snort.

Giselle, acting as his bodyguard and escort, didn't bother holding it in.

'Of course, she can read minds,' Richard sighed to himself.

"I am pleased to hear you enjoyed them," He said. "I brought with me copies of several books that I enjoy, as a gift. From several of them, the Long Patrol gets its name."

"Oh?!" The eleven-year-old's excitement at a gift was on full display as she nearly leapt up into the air. A cough from the head maid next to her reminded her of her station. "Ah, thank you. I will see to it that a gift for you is prepared."

A second cough reminded the young countess of their current place.

"Ah, right. My apologies, in my excitement, I have forgotten to invite you inside. Please, be welcome in the Formal estate. The maids have already prepared a room for you when the Ambassador told us you would be coming," Myui glanced behind Richard, deflating. "Is Lady Tara not with you?"

"Sadly, no," Richard said with regret. "She had business back at Alnus that kept her there."

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that," Myui said before there was another intervening cough. "Um…"

At the young girl's glance, the head maid adjusted their glasses.

"May I suggest that your lordship and ladyship retire to a sitting room?" The woman said. "I could have some maids deliver some sweets. The entryway is ill-suited towards entertaining guests."

"Oh, yes," Myui shook herself. "Please, this way."

As they and the maids walked off, Giselle grumbled to herself.

"What, don't I get a room?" She sighed. "No one even seemed surprised at a Demigod being here. NATO makes people weird."




Barring the tasteless statues of nude women of a wide variety of species that seemed to be everywhere in the palace, the sitting room was richly appointed with delicate-looking curtains and furnishings. A small fire was burning in a fireplace as a maid tended to it, and between two seats, another maid laid out a tray of sweets.

Richard took the seat opposite the young countess who tried and failed to hide her still-present excitement.

"So, how is Italica faring?" Richard asked. "The people seemed in good health when I went past on my way here."

"Ah, I don't fully understand all the numbers yet," Myui admitted. "But trade with Alnus has brought it a large amount of wealth. I like the spices being sold. Plus, NATO has been helping arrest bandits and brigands that try to prey on the Appia trade route and the Roma river."

"The people are also doing very well. Without the Imperial laws restricting things… the maids' families from the nearby villages are allowed to settle in the city," She continued, biting into a cookie from the tray. "Lots of people were happy at that, thanks to um… more people to do work?"

She gave the head maid a glance, who gave a confirming nod.

"Well, I hope the trade continues," Richard replied. "Food bought from Italica saved people from starvation."

"Oh!" Myui gasped in surprise, the head maid barely covering her own. "If you needed food, I could have sent some. It would be the least we could do to thank NATO for saving the city."

Richard waved off their concern.

"There were other options and sources, things didn't quite get that dire that we needed to beg, but the massive influx of refugees certainly took our preparations for winter by surprise," He explained. "Besides, the trade helped get Alnus on its feet faster."

"Ah, I'm glad to hear things are better now," Myui said, relaxing. "If you need more food, the people of Italica would be more than happy to donate."

"We appreciate the gesture, thank you," Richard smiled. "But I don't think it will be necessary. I take it your own preparations for winter are going well?"

"Oh, yes," Myui nodded. "Just yesterday, I was out inspecting the last of the crops that were being planted."

Richard leaned back in his chair, noting the soft leather was unlike any he had experienced on Earth, as he listened to Countess Myui continue on about how she was learning to rule the city-state, and how it was beginning to flourish.




When Pina had arrived at Italica, leaving behind most of her knights at several border forts to take command, the young Countess had been hesitant to accept the Imperial Princess into her town. Pina could not blame her, given the way her family had entrapped the rulers of the city-state in the past into technical vassalage. Yet, Pina had been ordered here by her father.

She hadn't been sure of his fears of a civil war, but she could not fully disabuse herself of the idea. The fear that her brothers might take the more violent road. There was also whoever poisoned her father. The nobles of the empire certainly would not sit idly by. She had not spent long studying under her father what it would take to rule, but she did quickly recognise that many nobles simply saw the Imperial hierarchy as a ladder to climb or a game to play, utterly detached from the reality of the empire and its social order.

Worse, the threat of civil war was not something that would sway Myui or the Italicans. True, the 11-year-old girl was not a political mastermind, but she was not stupid. She understood that a weakened empire, while Itlaical was protected by NATO, would be to her advantage—fewer Legions on her borders, smaller border forces, and less ability to apply pressure or invade.

In the end, what had permitted Pina as a guest was the admission that she was seeking to meet with Lord Richard and Tara. The information that Tara had faced and defeated a coup and was now to be crowned empress of the Warrior Bunnies had been a minor shock, giving the impression that while everyone else's star was in ascendance, the Saderan Empire's was in descent.

But Pina refused to give into despair. There did remain hope that her brothers would see reason. She didn't desire the throne, but her father had been convinced that she was the better heir. But all three of them were young and could still grow. Diabo, Pina had decided, was the most likely to realise his own flaws. He had always been the sharpest-witted of them.

With that in mind, she had set herself to writing a letter to him. With any luck, he would acknowledge that the support of corruption in the senate weakened the empire, for all that it enriched him personally. He could point Zorzal towards acting against it, and stabilising things…

But she was far less certain that she could convince him. She certainly doubted she could convince Zorzal. The man was a hedonist and a brute of the worst kind.

If Zorzal and Diabo butted heads…

Pina shook her head and refocused on the written letter as she waited for Richard to arrive, rereading what she had read. She frowned as she noticed smeared ink and wobbly handwriting from the quill being shaken by her quivering hands.

With a scowl, she scraped the ink from the paper, before simply tossing aside the entire draft, to join another half dozen similar sheets.

Pina wracked her brain, still stumbling to find the words she needed to convince Diabo.

A knock sounded at her door, breaking her concentration.

"Princess?" The voice of one of her knights called. "A maid is here to report that Lord Richard has finished meeting with Countess Myui. She is offering to lead you to the sitting room he is in."

With a deep breath to steady herself, Pina stood and made reply.




"Lord Richard," Pina greeted as she was shown in. She noted the empty seat across from him, the small indent in it, and the diminished pile of sweets on a tray being cleared away by another Formal maid between them and surmised that he had not moved from where he had been meeting the countess. "Thank you for meeting with me."

"Princess," Richard nodded towards her with a nod of his head, not standing to greet her. A detail that gave rise to a minor bout of feelings of insult that Pina swiftly crushed.

Pina tried her best not to feel nervous, like she was begging, as she sat down across from him.

"I will be plain," She began, feeling none of the calm she wore like a mask. Her hands felt clammy. She had to fight to keep her breathing regular. Her heart thundered in her chest. "What would it take to get your, and NATO's, support should a civil war break out in the Empire?"

Richard blinked, leaning back in surprise. He started to reply, before pausing and considering something.

"Well, for one, Tara would have my head if I didn't mention her homeland," He said, with a wry smile.

Pina had expected that much. She had no interest in trying to hold it, though she was curious as to how governance would be handled afterwards.

"I can accept that price," She said. "The borders would need to be discussed in detail, given the Imperial towns on the old border being a point of contention, but I can agree in principle."

"As for NATO…" Richard trailed off. He spent a moment frowning thoughtfully before he continued. "… I cannot negotiate on their behalf. I can ferry your request, but that is the most I could do in that regard. On the other hand…"

Pina's heart fell, then Richard leaned forward.

"The Long Patrol will not be ready for some time. I lack both the money and time to train them up to what would be considered Peer to NATO," He explained. "But I have also been approached by some groups looking to sell weapons. If NATO does not object, I could purchase additional arms for both our forces if you could finance it."

Pina internally winced. While she was far from poor and had brought a notable amount of wealth with her, combined with a war chest her father had sent to Italica and several other places near the border, she could very well imagine what sort of cost NATO weapons would incur. Still, they were an advantage over her brother or any other faction in a Civil War she could ill afford to pass by.

"Very well," She agreed. "What do you currently have access to?"

"Small arms," Richard said. "None of NATO's heavy ordinance. That takes too much time and money to train people to use, not to mention requires a lot of preparation to support. But there are several other options we could pursue."

Richard stopped abruptly.

"However… there may be other things I would require from you," He said. "I will need to… discuss with Tara and NATO, as well as review some maps. There is also the matter of conduct should war break out and rules of what to do with captured territory to discuss."

"Of course," Pina kept her jaw from clenching as she studied Richard's face, wondering what he was playing at. Why come all this way to suddenly run back?

Then her eyes noticed the way he was breathing with rapid and shallow breaths. His skin looked as clammy as hers felt. Pina realised that he was as nervous and uncomfortable as she felt, reminding herself that he was as unaccustomed to leadership as herself. Less, perhaps, as he hadn't spent time learning politics or leading an order of knights.

A burst of giggles escaped her lips.

"My… my apologies for the outburst, Lord Richard," She pushed through them. "It's just… I forgot. I forgot that we are both fumbling in the dark, trying to meet our obligations to our peoples. Now… what specifically are you concerned about?"

Richard blinked, eyes widening, before he snorted, his face stretching into a grin. Pina struggled to not lapse into a second bout of giggles.

"Well, I realised that we'd be able to garner support back on Earth if we organised a social media campaign. I have no idea how we'd do it, but it could encourage people to donate weapons and money. I might know some people who could organise it for us," He explained. Pina understood the basics of the idea, even if some of the words Richard used made no sense in the way he had used them to her. A quirk of English not translating? "Then, I realised that your armour, and that of your soldiers, would make it difficult to properly brace a rifle. I was thinking we might be able to use some of my friends from… never mind. But I might know some people who could workshop some solutions, or spot other problems neither of us are suited to foreseeing."

Pina pursed her lips.

"How difficult would it be to meet with these people?"
 
Yeees! Bra armour for Pina&friends! they would have no problems with holding rifles !


Jokes aside - to defeat ancient army,even with monsters,all you need are drones,some light recon planes,HMG,mortars and rifles.
Maybe 20mm guns for vyverns and ogres,too.
Add lots of Toyota cars,and you have your army.
 
Jokes aside - to defeat ancient army,even with monsters,all you need are drones,some light recon planes,HMG,mortars and rifles.
Maybe 20mm guns for vyverns and ogres,too.
Add lots of Toyota cars,and you have your army.
The issue is training, supply, and time.

They might have the time, but they don't have the training to use and maintain vehicles. They certainly don't have a supply of fuel, far from NATO. Mortars and planes are also similar issues. You need a level of underlying knowledge in order to use a lot of that effectively, that the Saderans don't have.

Drones are a maybe. Small, short ranged, cheap ones? Yeah, maybe. Heavier Predator drones? Nope.
 
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"THE HILUX CONQUERS SADERAN EMPIRE!! NEWS AT 11!!!"
And it could happen here.If african warlords could learn to maintain it,saderans would learn,too.
The issue is training, supply, and time.

They might have the time, but they don't have the training to use and maintain vehicles. They certainly don't have a supply of fuel, far from NATO. Mortars and planes are also similar issues. You need a level of underlying knowledge in order to use a lot of that effectively, that the Saderans don't have.

Drones are a maybe. Small, short ranged, cheap ones? Yeah, maybe. Heavier Predator drones? Nope.
True about logistic - that why they could have few light planes only.But,like i mentioned earlier,Toyota Hilux could save the day here.
 
Chapter 85
A.N. Sorry for the long delay. I uh... forgot to upload the chapters. Nearly done the arc. I'll make sure to upload all the chapters before I go back to Humanity's Illusion's for its next arc.

I'll try to get the next chapter up tomorrow.

Bouru gently set the letter down into the flames.

Getting a sample of the poison that had killed Molt had been easy. Finding an alchemist he could trust to analyse it; that was harder. Now, it would seem, that he would need to replace that same alchemist.

The analysis had identified the exact poison used. Not just the general type, but the specific plants and ingredients. The alchemist had even confirmed the exact process.

Because he had been the one to prepare it, hundreds of times, for Bouro.

However, the ruler of the Haryo Tribe had not given any orders for Molt to be assassinated. Nor had the alchemist sold any of this poison to anyone else. Or so he claimed. Unfortunately, his records were clean.

Fortunately, that alchemist had died to his own poison, ensuring that the man would provide no secrets Bouro didn't want shared. Unfortunately, replacing the man with someone just as discreet and skilled would be a headache. Whilst Molt's initiatives had attracted many to Sadera in pursuit of coin, few were of the skill Bouro would need, and fewer still were as discreet has he needed. His corpse, at least, could serve as a temporary scapegoat to tide Zorzal over, have him focus on the true issues.

In time, real assassin could be tracked down… or a suitable scapegoat found. Bouro ultimately didn't care which, as long as his power base remained secure.




Diabo set the scroll down. A letter from a foreign merchant to his father, asking for permission to bring certain goods into the city.

With Molt sick, many Imperial responsibilities had fallen on him. With those responsibilities came power: acting as de facto co-regent with his brother, but handling much of the diplomatic duties, ensured he was effectively unopposed in ensuring his allies obtained what they asked for, earning him many favours and much support. Offices could be filled in with his people, wealth exchanged for political support without needing much, if any, subterfuge, and so much more. Diabo's heart soared with the possibilities… while his gut churned at the thought of what the price had been for this opportunity.

He had just finished penning a reply and official order to permit the goods, when Zorzal burst in. A question or protest was on Diabo's lips, though which he hadn't decided on when he caught sight of the look on Zorzal's face.

Anguish.

It was so apparent, in part, because it was so out of place. Diabo could recall only two other incidents when Zorzal wore that look. Both when they were far younger; once, when his mother died, and the other whilst Kati had been tortured.

But greater still was the intensity, untainted by fear or horror.

Things fell into place for Diabo in an instant; his heart skipped a beat and his stomach dropped.

"He's dead?" He gaped at his brother.

"Just… just passed a few momenta go," Zorzal didn't quite growl, but it still caused Diabo to stiffen. Without a culprit, and in the privacy of Diabo's office, there were few targets Zorzal could vent his fury on. "And my spies have found nothing yet about who did it."

"Surely it was the result of the initial poison?" Diabo asked, confused. "What did the physician say?"

"Strain from the poison," Zorzal barked an angry laugh. "The idiot could have saved him. Weeks! He'd survived for weeks! And now…"

"… at least he is at peace," Diabo said, soberly. His voice wavered. "My apologies, brother. I… I need some time alone."

A strange look flickered across Zorzal's face, before it relaxed, nodding.

"Before I go… how do we tell Pina?" He asked his younger brother. "I guess we have to tell her."

"I will write her a letter… once I can find the words," Diabo replied. He blinked, feeling his eyes burn. "And brother… thank you, for telling me right away."




Zorzal threw the report down in a huff. Bouro, having delivered an… edited version of the report to the prince only minutes ago, kept his head low.

"Dead!?" He didn't quite howl, but his fury was plainly etched into his face. "And you found no evidence of who he sold it to?"

"Nor records that he sold it at all, though his stocks were… lower than they should have been," Bouro lied, a mask of regret on his face. "I am sorry that this is all I could find, but I will not stop looking until the culprit is caught. You have my word."

Zorzal snarled but didn't bother rebuking the spy. Instead, the prince stood from his desk and began to pace.

"It's bad enough that the Emperor has passed and now I have to deal with all this paperwork," He vented. "But I don't even have a culprit to present before the Senate for punishment."

A knock at the door cut the tirade short.

"Prince Diabo is here, Your Highness. He wishes to speak to you."

Bouro scrabbled into the darkness of the office, behind a wall hanging where none would spot him.

"Enter," Zorzal huffed.

"Brother," Diabo's eyes did not focus on his brother as he was shown in, even with their slightly hollow look. Molt's death, days ago, clearly still affecting him. Instead, they landed on the desk, filled with stacks of paper. "I am surprised that you did not delegate any of that to me."

"Why are you here?" Zorzal snorted before he returned to his seat behind the desk. "I have military reports to read, and a report on the investigation into father's death to finish reading."

"To see if you needed any help," Diabo said.

Bouro held back a snort. The younger prince's honeyed words would fall on deaf ears. Zorzal, for all that the lout and hedonist detested exerting himself more than he deemed necessary, also guarded what he had jealously, even if that was busy work. Not that Zorzal realised it was busy work.

"I need help getting the Senate under control before I am crowned Emperor," Zorzal replied, frowning. "Leave me to deal with this mess. I need to know what they say anyway."

"… as you wish," Diabo relented too easily.

Behind the wall hanging, Bouro narrowed his eyes. To his surprise, Zorzal caught it as well.

"Now, why are you really here?"

Diabo dropped his earlier air of ease.

"Because another legion just abandoned its post," He said. "This time, one of yours. Were you aware of the troops being drawn away from the Warrior Bunny homeland?"

"I ordered them here," Zorzal shrugged. "Why does it matter? We needed the troops to train up fresh legions, and in case Pina tries something."

Zorzal went silent for a moment.

"I don't think for a moment Pina killed him, but… do you think one of her supporters did?" He asked. Bouro blinked, then filed that idea away for later. It might be a useful tool.

"… perhaps," Diabo admitted. "But I doubt it. Most of her supporters were reformers or supported the chivalric codes. None of them fled when you and father were poisoned, either."

Zorzal hummed, chewing on his lip.

"My spy found the alchemist that did it… but they had killed themselves rather than be captured and interrogated," Zorzal said after a moment. "Unfortunately, that left them with few leads."

"I see," Diabo shrugged. "Well… it doesn't matter. Either we capture them or not. But the Empire will endure, and we have the gods supporting us."

There was a flicker of suspicion that flickered across Zorzal's face.

"Of course," The de-facto ruler of the Saderan Empire replied after a moment. "But the gods won't do this paperwork for us."

"Of course," Diabo laughed. "I'll leave you to it, then. If you're sure you don't need my help."

"Go," Zorzal waved his brother off. "I'm sure there's some senator in need of a bribe."

Bouro watched Zorzal for a moment after the door closed.

The prince's face shifted, snarling in thought and Bouro could see the way his knuckles went white when he balled his hands into fists.

A flicker of satisfaction kept into his mind as he saw the many ways he could further wedge the gap between the brothers. Diabo still had his uses… but he was too great of a threat to Bouro's plans. Too much that the snivelling younger prince might notice, as Bouro moved his pieces around to control the courts and Senate.

"Bouru!" The chimeric spy jumped at the sudden shout. "I want the culprit, alive!"

"Yes, my prince," Bouro replied automatically. Sensing a dismissal, he crept through hidden passages, away from Zorzal… and he missed the muttered words that came from the elder prince's lips.

"Died in less agony than Kati did… and I won't let that happen to me. No matter what… not to me…"




Zorzal, the next day, wore a grin as he saw the product of Bouro's alchemist's work, the alchemist in question tossing a ruined set of armour down on a table to be inspected.

"With these… we might just have a chance against the otherworlders," He laughed. "How quickly can they be made?"

The alchemist glanced at the shattered armour.

"Unfortunately, I am uncertain how long the tubes will take to be made… but the powder can be made at a decent rate. If I were to be granted say… a water wheel, or several, some workers, some money, and some guild members… I can provide a list of the required guilds, I should be able to set up workshops that could produce it over the winter," The alchemist replied. "But this is not the extent of what it can do. And I have found several other things that might interest you, your highness."

"Oh?" Zorzal asked, curios. "Then lead on! Show me!"

"Of course, your highness. You can see these pots here?" The alchemist signalled an assistant, who picked up one of the clay pots and loaded it into a large crossbow.

With a snap, the clay put went sailing into the stone wall, where it shattered. The liquid inside, however, clung to the wall and burned.

As the alchemist explained the envisioned usage, and how it could be produced on a large scale, he gave a silent prayer of relief to the gods.

In truth, only the Ancient's Fire was partially his own creation, made from old records his predecessors had kept but failed to produce. He had completed their work. The powder and other miracles were the works of other alchemists and sages, that he had either been lucky enough to inherit or purchase when the fools had blown themselves up. A handful of journals and notes had been gifted to him by Bouro, and he dared not ask where they came from.

He had no remorse for taking the credit, of course, especially when it would let him get out of the city, and hopefully slip away elsewhere when things began to burn down, as he expected them to. The powder he was actually proud of. A sage had created, or stole, a recipe for some form of flash powder used by entertainers. When combined with the rather impressive level of observations about the process and powder, it was easy to modify it to create a more… energetic reaction by replacing certain ingredients.

So far, the weapons were single-use and a tad temperamental. But those could be solved. A stronger recipe for steel had been among the notes he got. If a cheaper method of making that could be found, then some of the other weapons might actually be usable. As it was, explosive pots with burning string held the most power, though for the legionaries, a simple wooden tube filled with small rocks, glass, and a small amount of the powder, to be attached to a spear and fired in a formation.

Truly, to achieve so much so quickly, the gods must have been supporting him.

But he was still going to get to a safe place far from the capital.
 
So,Emperor is dead,Diablo would be killed by Zorzal where Bouro manage to organize it,and smart alchemist made blackpowder and napalm.
Good,but not for Zorzal - even if he mass produced assault rifles and HMG,he would still lost quickly.Becouse war now is win by planes and artillery.
And Zorzal alchemists could not mass produce those.

So,we would have political struggle,dead Diablo and maybe Bouro,and war,which Zorzal,even with his powers,would lost.
And NATO here would not lost too much.
 
Chapter 87
Zorzal's chest heaved with each breath. On his face was a wide smile.

Before him, arrayed in ranks, were the newest recruits for the legions. His legions. These young men had been selected out of all the recruits clambering to join, based on recommendations from his friends in court and from campaigns.

His speech had been simple, pulling on their loyalty to the Empire, piety to the gods, bravery to volunteer, and the basic human desire to feel like the strongest, the best. He capped it off with a validation of all of that, by showing all present his newfound power as a demigod.

The result was breathtaking to the prince as the crowd roared its approval.

Shouts and cries of adoration and loyalty were a rush of sounds, drowning out the words, but Zorzal could see the cheering faces, see the way the soon-to-be soldiers were determined to make him proud.

Eventually, Zorzal's duties pulled him away from the podium before the assembled recruits. But he was not quite finished. No, he refused to simply treat them as disposable pawns.

They were, of course. Or at least, most of them were. The duty of soldiers was to die for their Empire and Emperor, after all, earning glory and renown in the afterlife. If they were skilled and determined enough to win, then all the better for the Empire.

But those among the troops that held special note, talents or potential, or birth of noble descent?

It was to these honourable few that Zorzal went, for he had prepared some time to meet with them. Talented men and men of noble birth deserved the honour of meeting him personally.

Within a tent, a short distance behind the podium, they gathered and waited for him. A handful of other notables had also congregated nearby, but Zorzal paid them no mind as he stepped out of the cold autumn air.

Inside, the temperature was appropriately warm as he sat at the head of the table. A few words were shared, platitudes mostly; congratulations on the speech, and other such wastes of breath, before Zorzal stood. He spoke only to invite those present to eat and celebrate the occasion with him, before sitting back down.

Soon, he and his guests were tearing into the feast brought out by servants. Zorzal wasted no time in digging into the food. Meats, breads, pastries, and others passed between his lips, stuffing himself. There were advantages, he had found, to being immortal beyond simply surviving any blow.

Eventually, the feast wound down, and those present began to quietly converse. There was no overt discussion, as Zorzal had not started a discussion himself, a tradition the prince was mildly irritated by as he continued to swallow food from his plate.

Pausing, he made some toast to the future of the Empire, which was picked up by those present, before giving a compliment to an officer he recognised as having drilled his troops well. With that done, the conversation soon flowed on its own, the tradition fulfilled.

"… can't wait to drive the otherworlders from Sacred Alnus," Zorzal heard one new officer declare. "I've heard of the wonders the Imperial alchemists have developed and look forwards to finally matching these 'NATO' on an even field."

"I agree!" Another young noble, bearing a more senior, but still junior officer, rank nodded. "They have defiled the sacred hill too long. Them and their filthy demi-human puppets."

"Demi-humans have their uses and their as clean as most peasants," Zorzal interjected. Conversation stopped as all eyes turned to the prince. "And not just as bed toys. An elf is a better tracker than most huntsmen. A Warrior Bunny can do the work of two men in a field."

"Ah, of course, sire," The noble stammered. "I only meant that, given the rumours and the town near the sacred hill…"

"Oh, that," Zorzal snorted. "We'll make them pay for defiling the sacred grounds. After all, the gods are on our side. Now, you were saying something about the new weapons?"

Zorzal smiled as the conversation resumed, much attention paid to the new weapon being built. The officers and nobles present all agreed that the new weapons were wonderous, what the empire needed to return the favour to NATO in the face of the embarrassing defeats. But Zorzal was not quite as confident.

True, they were far and above the capabilities of yesterday for the army, but he remembered the flying transports that his father had pointed out during some boring party. Sol was right. They weren't ready to fight NATO… but such was the knowledge of the gods, wiser than mortals. It was a bitter pill, but it did well for morale.

Even better, with the officers recommended by Bouro, Zorzal was confident that the lost morale in the face of the first war was already on its way to being reclaimed. If Pina kept to her values and did not start a civil war, then it would be rather simple to push against other states, test the new weapons against them, and profit from the new territory.

As he was swept up in the conversation, many of the officers complimenting his military reforms that he didn't quite remember, he smiled as he dreamed of the future glory that his legions would win him.

Eventually, the feast wound down, and Zorzal departed. As he climbed into his carriage, to convey him to his estate, he blinked in surprise as he saw Diabo staring back at him from within.

"Brother," The younger brother greeted the elder.




"What do you want?" Zorzal asked, after several moments of silence, the carriage trotting along.

"I wanted to ask you what you had gained from that," Diabo asked. "I understand the need to rebuild the destroyed legions, but you are forming more than that."

"Pina has her knights, father's guards have mostly vanished, and I needed something both to guard my person and to demonstrate the Empire's strength," Zorzal shrugged. "Raising new legions achieves that and let me form my own personal legion."

"You…" Diabo paused, then took a deep breath. "Brother, four legions were shattered. You are trying to raise eight. It looks like we are preparing to fight a war."

"We are," Zorzal scoffed. "If Pina loses her senses. If not… well, the elves north of the Warrior Bunny homeland have always been a thorn. And there are other territories we could annex to fund them."

Diabo frowned but relented the point. He knew where his strengths were, and admittedly, military matters were not among them.

"Still… I wish you had consulted me, beforehand," He said. "The positions you gave away, officer ranks and commanderies, could have been exchanged for political favours, or used to cover some of the expenses."

"Perhaps," Zorzal shrugged. "But the treasury can afford that, and I wanted fighting men, not bureaucrats or merchant sons."

Diabo held back a snort. The men in those positions were mostly nobles' sons, but all were connected to Zorzal or his key backers and supporters. Cronies and ass-kissers were what Zorzal had, not fighting men. Not to mention the treasuring was greatly diminished, after some of the Praetorian Guard vanished with it, either deserting or destined for Pina's coffers.

Briefly, Diabo entertained the notion of pushing against his brother. Using the Senate to block or check his brother's action, or outright stonewall him using bureaucracy. But doing so would probably just provoke the lout into doing something stupid and bullheaded.

Not to mention, if it became apparent to the senate that there was a rift between the two brothers, others would step in to exploit it. To drive them apart. Diabo's lips curled in disgust at the thought of such blatant opportunism and parasitism.

With a sigh, Diabo gave up fighting his brother. The lout wouldn't listen to reason. Hopefully, he was just being obstinate because of all the ego-stroking recently, and not because he was planning to stop listening to his younger brother completely.

Still, Diabo paused in consideration as the carriage stopped outside the palace, it might be best to reach out to Pina again, try to talk some sense into her and keep her from reacting poorly to the build-up. Hopefully, she wasn't doing anything that might provoke Zorzal. Diabo doubted he could control his elder brother if he was incensed.




Bouru waited for Prince Zorzal to step into the office before speaking from the shadows.

"My prince, there is an… issue," He said, careful to keep his tone sounding hesitant and cautious. "My people discovered that a noble has been sharing letters with one of the nobles that has left with your sister."

"So?" Zorzal asked, dismissively. "Nobles will talk and exchange rumours. What of it?"

"My prince, the concern is what they are discussing. The weapons, the alchemists…" Bouro stressed his words. "My prince, this noble was trying to leak secrets to NATO through your sister."

"Bah, let them know," Zorzal scoffed. "The alchemists and workers are already making new weapons anyway."

"Perhaps, my Prince… but what if they try to sneak other details?"

"My sister would not start a war," Zorzal laughed. "She is too kind, too soft."

"But then, would it not be made easier for NATO to manipulate her?"

Zorzal paused, frowning.

"Perhaps you have a point," The prince admitted. "If NATO got word that we were preparing to fight them, and we had to fight another first to blood our troops… they might pressure her to attack. If the commoners get upset enough at the costs of war… yes, I see how they might do it. What do you recommend then?"

"My prince," Bouro smiled. "Allow me to deal with these spies. My people are devoted and loyal. They will do whatever is necessary."

"Fine," Zorzal waved Bouro away. "Now, I need to see a speechwriter about the meeting with the Senate. I must have a proper speech for when they are to announce me as inheritor of the throne."

"Then I shall trouble you no further, my prince. My Emperor," Bouru said, as he faded into the shadows. The entire way to his own office, deep beneath the palace in some forgotten basement, a cold smile was plastered to his face. "You shall be Emperor… my emperor. Soon, the senate will be mine as well, once we've cleaned out Pina's 'spies'. As for Prince Diabo… how to further widen that rift?"
 
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Good,he is not idiot,he would not attack NATO with muskets.Northern Elves - muskets would not help him there,too.
But he still could win with numbers.
 
Chapter 88
A.N. Almost forgot to post this. This chapter did fight me though. Next chapter, and the end of the arc, are done. Story will go on break while I work on Humanity's Illusion. Though I will post the next chapter before that, probably Tuesday.

So don't panic. Story isn't dead.

The air was colder here, Tyuule noted as she walked alongside her half-sister, compared to their homeland. Autumn was upon them, but the cold had arrived much sooner than it did far to the east, even sooner than it would in the Saderan capital. Fortunately, despite their people's destitute situation, NATO had provided enough winter clothes to see them through.

The food her people had brought in alongside the people of Alnus (as much as that was nearly one and the same), combined with what was being traded for, was enough that no one would go hungry, either. The 'railroad' going through the Gate presented mind-boggling opportunities to the former queen, just from the speed at which such large loads could be moved.

Tyuule wished she had access to such machines during the war, it would have let her amass her army much faster and ensure a fast supply line. But that would not have led to victory. Her people were not united under her. They had been fractious, many tribes too stubborn to listen to reason, or with conflicting interests that they refused to temporarily set aside, in favour of victory.

Here, at Alnus and under Tara?

Tyuule saw once bitter enemies working together. Old tribal ways were cast aside, in favour of what worked, but still preserved. Tara had told her of what Richard did, how he used the old ways of his people as a manner of sport, to keep them alive. It had inspired the disgraced queen to start forming an equivalent tradition for her own people. While the efforts had yet to bear fruit, it was early days yet. Tyuule only wished that she had thought to start sooner, perhaps using the idea to support Tara's bid to unify her people.

But Tara had done so. NATO so thoroughly thrashing the Empire had certainly won them many favours, as had to win her people's freedom. Part of Tyuule wanted to laugh at how Molt's attempt at using her people to drag NATO down through the weight of needy numbers had exploded in his face. But he was dead. Instead, she settled for the cold, empty satisfaction that Zorzal would likely face comeuppance from his own sister, the man was too pig-headed not to start a civil war, and the warmer comfort of seeing her people alive and free.

The same people who were split between ignoring her, shooting her pitying looks, or angry ones.

Tyuule ignored them all. She had failed them, she knew. Lesser than a betrayal, perhaps, but she did not wear the crown any longer.

"You've been silent," Her successor, Empress, and sister noted. "Something on your mind?"

"Just considering the present," Tyuule replied. "How are you and Richard?"

Tara raised an eyebrow at the change in the subject but did not comment on it.

"We are not expecting children yet, if that is what you are asking," Tara snorted. "Both of us are too busy forcing sanity onto the situation still. The Long Patrol is growing quickly, our people are still settling in…"

"Tara," Tyuule interrupted. "I am well aware of the present situation."

"Sorry," Tara shook her head. "I've been focused on that so much it bleeds over into everything."

"I can sympathise," Tyuule sighed. Their feet tapped against the paved roads that made up the pathways of Alnus as they walked in silence. The weight of duty, past, present and future, fell upon their shoulders.

"Do you remember the Battle of the Forked River?" Tara suddenly asked. "Under our mother?"

"Yes, I remember it," Tyuule replied. "The Blackstone Heart tribe refused our mother's call to unite against Imperial encroachment. So she led a small army that we were part of to force the issue."

"Except they were waiting for us," Tara snorted. "Our mother… was not a good general. We were ambushed crossing that river. Half the army on one side, half on the other. We ended up getting cut off, archers firing on those trying to cross."

"The Blackstones' only mistake was trying to crush both halves at the same time," Tyuule sighed. "I remember vividly the sight of their warriors bursting through the lines towards me, one warrior leaping forwards only to be cut down by a guard."

"What was it I said?" Tara snorted. "'I'm pretty sure you don't want that stuck in you, sister!'"

"No… it was crasser than that," Tyuule shook her head. "I believe you made some joke about the Blackstones compensating for their lack of companionship with their blades."

"Right!" Tara's laughter rang out. "Half of your bodyguard ended up dead or wounded, but we broke them when you yelled out and rallied the warriors, before leading a counterattack through our own breached lines."

Tara's voice became somber.

"Varana, who taught me how to wield a blade, died in that counterattack," Her voice quickly became somber. "I don't remember seeing it. One moment she was there next to us, the next, she was gone."

"… I think I remember that," Tyuule replied, wistfully. "She caught an arrow to her throat, I think. That was… a moment or two before I was jumped by Blackstone warrior, some large woman with a Saderan knight's blade, in a two-handed grip."

"That sounds right. I jumped in, using my sword-staff to stab beneath her guard," Tara nodded. "I had seen her coming and looked to that side. When I looked back as the giant fell, she was gone."

"Mother was furious with us for being at the front," Tyuule recalled; bittersweet memories of their mother in her mind's eye. "… I think that was when we started becoming closer. I realised mother was… not well versed in warfare, and I decided to be better."

Tara laughed again.

"I won't argue against that. Afterwards, I don't think you let yourself leave my sight until we got home. And I remember our talk afterwards," Tara sighed. "We admitted to being scared in the battle, if not in as many words, to each other. After that… we started to train together."

"Mother… after I complained about my combat tutor failing to prepare me for a real battle, she sent me to train with the rest of the royal guard," Tyuule replied. "She was furious with that tutor… and I think a little scared, herself. But she was more furious with the Blackstones."

Tara winced.

"Do you think her punishment was too far?"

Tyuule paused in her steps in thought at the question.

"… Yes. They amassed an army themselves because we were coming to threaten them… they went too far by outright attacking, but it wasn't unjustified. Not to mention how it weakened us against the Empire. Butchering so many of their warriors… they had nothing to send to help me, against Zorzal, even if they were willing to," She sighed. "Mother acted like a Saderan. Expecting the other tribes to obey, just because she was a pureblooded queen."

"Now look at us," Tara gave a bittersweet laugh. "Our homeland is gone, but we are united. Most of the old tribes and clans are gone, and in their place, we are stronger than we were. Much was lost, much was gained."

"And we only had to resist a coup attempt with Richard and the gods' help to do it," Tyuule nodded. "No, strongarming, no armies or threats, needed."

"Not that we don't have other issues," Tara frowned, as she saw a small party of Pina's knights, dressed in traditional Saderan noble garments, go past on the other side of the street. "Are we ready to fight a war?"

"Probably not," Tyuule shook her head. "But, NATO was able to defeat the Empire, using… what was it?"

"A handful of units, I don't remember what they were called, that were just in Canada for exercises and practice, plus whatever they could find on short notice," Tara replied. "But I get your meaning. NATO is prepared for Zorzal starting something, and they know what to expect and where to strike, things they didn't know last time. The war would be over before it began… if NATO supports Pina."

"You think they won't?" Tyuule blinked, frowning pensively at her sister. "… The treaty… they won't break it openly, will they? They are very trusting… but they also abide by that trust that is placed in them. So… that is why the Long Patrol is getting so much support, why Richard is being allowed to tie himself to other vassals. Why we are getting so much support."

"A proxy war, they call it," Tara sighed. "I was reading this morning about an indirect conflict the US had with another nation, called the USSR. They both feared a direct war would see them use their most powerful weapons, which would destroy both of them, so they fought using puppets. They also avoided breaking official treaties and agreements with those same puppets."

Tyuule nodded.

"Canny. Find someone willing to do the fighting for you, when they have their interests in doing so, and supply them," She surmised. "But Richard?"

"Us, Pina, and the fact that the 'Kingdom of Alnus' isn't part of the treaty, nor is it part of NATO," Tara replied. "He could volunteer to support and fight for Pina, without breaking the treaty, especially if Pina wins and rules that the one who helped her purchase NATO weapons was not breaking said treaty."

"Have you talked with Richard about this?" Tyuule asked.

"A little. He knows more about the 'Cold War' than I do," Tara shrugged. "… and here comes Rasha. What's wrong?"

The city-born Warrior Bunny gave a bow, stiff and formal to Tara and Tyuule.

"Empress… there has been a fight, over near the main stables. A disagreement over trade goods between merchants," She said. "I was told to bring you there to resolve it."

"Damn it," Tara cursed, her tone becoming exhausted from similar incidents. "Alright. Are you coming Tyuule?"

"I have something I need to do," The former queen replied. "I will meet you for lunch, as agreed?"

"Very well," Tara sighed. "Lead on Rasha."




Tyuule found Richard in a training field, one of a handful set up for those wishing to continue practising with local, more primitive weapons.

The black blade in his hands hissed through the air as he swung, its edge leaving black mist that drifted behind it before fading away. It was, Tyuule noted, not too dissimilar to the blade Richard had earlier carried, of similar length and could be wielded with one or two hands, though was clearly more effective with both hands on it.

The swing turned into a jab as Richard shifted his grip with a speed that any veteran of battle could respect, grasping the blade just behind a pair of spikes that sat on its edge above the guard. Then his jab turned into a parry, then another jab, before Richard reset his stance and started his manoeuvres again.

Tyuule noted, as the man practised, that he seemed to try and use the entire weapon. The pommel would jab towards an imaginary opponent's face, or a bloke would pivot to catch a blade between the quillon and the blade, letting Richard control his opponent's blade.

It was quite different to the way her people traditionally fought, which was focused on movement and flanking, relying on speed and their ability to grab an opponent's arm to force their blade away. But Tyuule supposed that was also a major weakness of her people. The Saderans were willing to use spears and a slower pace, conserving energy over finishing the fight quickly with an overwhelming pace, a fact that meant it was easier to fight in tight formations and support soldiers, leaving the Warrior Bunnies to face defeat on the battlefield, but victory in skirmishes.

Richard paused as he caught sight of her at the edge of the field, watching.

"Something I can do for you?" He lowered his sword to point towards the ground as he called out.

Tyuule studied him for a moment before replying, noting the sweat on his brow, the tired look on his face (one that she recognised as caused by the stresses of leadership, rather than physical exertion, having worn that look many times herself), and the way her eyes kept being drawn to the blade by some arcane force, as if the blade demanded it be acknowledged.

"Just a few details I wished to discuss with you," She replied. "And you should probably shower. We have a meeting in less than an hour."

Richard gave a confused blink, before he glanced at his watch, wincing as he saw the time.

"Yeah, been at this too long," He sighed, walking over to where he had hung a sheath and towel on a post. "I'll be feeling that tomorrow… and the stacked paperwork. So, what did you want to talk about?"

"I have two general concerns," Tyuule replied evenly. "First… relating to my own mistakes, have you considered the consequences of joining the Saderan Civil War? What it would mean to the Long Patrol?"

She swallowed.

"I did not consider what would happen when I surrendered to Zorzal. I knew what it meant for myself… but not what would happen to my people," Her voice wavered, as memories of her time as Zorzal's slave came to the fore. Her gaze slowly dropped. "At least I thought I knew what it meant for myself. But the idea that Zorzal would not honour the deal… I should have considered it. Made allowances and plans. I did not and failed my people catastrophically as a result."

At Richard's moments-long silence, she glanced at him, seeing him frowning at something. Briefly, she followed his gaze to her hand, where she had left it resting on one of the fences. The wood was gripped in a white-knuckled grip, her hand shaking hard enough to move the entire wooden pole in its slot. With a flicker of shame and surprise, she released her grip, relaxing her hands and letting them fall to her side, still.

Richard coughed, looking up at her face. He took a breath to collect his thoughts, before replying.

"If we fail, NATO would still be able to protect Alnus. They would also be able to administrate it," Richard said. "The danger of failure is still present if we succeed, as well. I do not doubt that, should we march into Saderan territory, there are those that were once enslaved who would do just about anything to take revenge, to make the Saderans suffer, however they can."

Tyuule blinked. Her mind wandered in the face of Richard's accusation. However he meant it, and she doubted it was meant to be directed at her having never seen him ever display that sort of venom, it was not hard to draw up the question; if she had the Saderans in her hand, would she make them suffer?

She was silent for several long moments, as her mind churned like a stormy sea, and like such a body of water, her thoughts grew dark and cold.

"Did I say something wrong?" Richard's words broke through the tempest in her mind and further cemented his unintended actions in her mind.

"No, no," She shook her head, only now noticing her ears had slumped in her sudden foul mood. "I just… was thinking. You aren't wrong."

She sighed.

"I am glad that you have considered this… now, as for the other matter…" Tyuule pushed her doubts to the side. "What are your intentions with my half-sister?"

"You've been hanging around Americans, haven't you?" Richard remarked with a sarcastic tone. "That is a very stereotypical protective sibling question."

"That isn't an answer," Tyuule remarked. "But I have been educating myself on 'Western' culture. Mage Lelei has been quite helpful in that regard, her access and expertise using the 'internet' has proven to be quite useful in acquiring information."

"Sometimes I worry what she will find," Richard sighed. "The internet is… rather diverse in its content."

"We are both aware, Lelei has been striving to keep her mentor in the dark about certain aspects of it," Tyuule replied with a knowing nod, and a slight look of distaste. "Now, my sister?"

"My intentions are simple: to make her happy," Richard met her gave and responded truthfully. "The method is… still a matter we are discussing. Earlier plans have been thrown into disarray and made more complicated due to her new responsibilities. But we are working together on it."

"… I am… glad that you chose to elaborate on your answer," Tyuule said after a moment. "… has Tara told you much of Warrior Bunny culture regarding men?"

"Some. Mostly that the stereotype of 'warrior women that kidnap men for mates' is really only a thing with a handful of tribes near the border, and its more of a farce than a real thing. I knew the 'sex crazed' thing was completely false," Richard replied. "She made mention of communal raising of children being common, but she also mentions… something about families being common as well?"

"It varies between tribes and clans, as well as nomadic and city dwelling groups," Tyuule replied. "It is far from abnormal for men to join a tribe or clan in what would roughly be called a marriage to a member and remain with them until their death of old age. One of my tutors was one such. Though there... was often those that simply laid with a Warrior Bunny for pleasure, with the child being born as part of her tribe or clan. Tara was one such union, and as a result she was raised communally with other noble children. I myself was born as a pureblood, so while my mother didn't care much for my father, it being a political union, I was raised by her as heir."

"Is that related to the worship of Miritta at all?"

"I don't know," Tyuule admitted. "While she is a goddess of fertility, her main method of worship isn't… wasn't common. Prostitution didn't really exist in my kingdom… perhaps because of our culture in that regard?"

She shrugged.

"In any case, your union with her isn't what I am concerned by," She continued. "At the risk of copying yet another piece of media; harm my sister at your own peril."

"I swear that I intend her no harm," Richard replied with utterly naked sincerity.

"Good," Tyuule nodded with a bemused smile.

"Do you mind if I ask a question?" Richard asked. Something about his tone made Tyuule drop her smile as she focused on him. "You mentioned how you were both raised, and the unions that effected that, why did that matter?"

Tyuule paused.

"… I need to think about that to remember my lessons," She snorted. "Let me think… so, I recall that, early on, our people had high rates of child mortality, especially among the males. That is still an issue, but female births are still common. On top of that, children are considered precious, due to several tribes nearly being wiped out by child mortality."

Richard nodded in understanding, following along with her explanation.

"Because of our lands being mostly plains, there was the need to always have hunters, warriors, and farmers, often people doing multiple roles. That meant we had large numbers of women, and few men," Tyuule explained, recalling the distant lessons of her tutors whilst she heard the bustling sounds of her mother's city outside, accompanied by the chattering sounds of the communally raised children playing in the square near the palace, and times in her rule, as heartbreaking as those memories were, when groups of children would pass by her entourage when touring that same city. "That meant mothers could hardly afford to spend their time raising their children. So, children were protected and raised by their villages. As they grew into cities, it became something done by smaller groups. Nobles, for instance, raised their children together, while guilds did the same."

"So, the children of smiths would be raised alongside other children of smiths, by smiths that were not working?"

"Essentially, yes. Sometimes, such as with the nobles, there were professional… I believe the closest Saderan word is teachers, who would educate and raise them, in addition to parents that were free," Tyuule continued. She paused, glancing at Richard, curious. "Why do you ask?"

"Mostly curiosity," Richard shrugged. "Obviously, Canada does it differently, but any such future plans are going to be complicated further by our titles and duties, so we need to discuss it, Tara and I."

Tyuule winced, nodding.

"I cannot say that it was… the best upbringing, under my mother," She said. "And I can imagine the complications that would be present. My mother was… focused on rulership. She governed the city well… but she did not rule the kingdom well."

"… Do you resent her for that?" Richard asked. "Her being so focused on her duties, I mean?"

"No. I resent her… not ruling well," Tyuule sighed. "Part of why we lost, now that I have the time to think about it, was that she sowed the seeds. But the blame lies with me, because I did not correct those mistakes, and I made others by trying not to be her."

The former queen shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I'm going to make you late," She said. "Go, wash. If you have other questions…"

"I know where to find you," Richard nodded, hefting his sheathed blade onto his shoulder. "And thank you, both for answering my questions, and for looking out for Tara."

"Thank you for answering mine," Tyuule smiled. "And thank you for helping her, and our people, get free of the Empire."
 
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Well,we have slice-of-life now.Only question is - would NATO react to conqer of Elves lands?
And,could Zorzal do that with weakened army? blackpowder,muskets and napalm would not help him much against enemy with good archers.
Becouse even on Earth longbows and mongol bows still outranged muskets.
 
Chapter 89 New
Diabo bit his lip. Internally, he snarled with impotent fury as he read the letter.

Pina refused to come to reason. She was at least trying to prevent a civil war from breaking out, having reached out to him as he reached out to him, but his sister would not accept Zorzal as Emperor. She even went as far as to imply that both of them were breaking imperial laws, just because they were trading favours.

His sister was a blind fool who would never be able to succeed as empress, too hidebound to the idea of laws, not understanding the way political games were played. The laws were merely tools of the senate and emperor, pawns to influence the other players.

Diabo sighed, releasing some of the tension that had built up. A half-written, angry reply was tossed into the fire, as he began to mentally compose a more diplomatic reply.

Quill bit into parchment as the day wore on, shadows lengthening, as he worked. Eventually, after several drafts were destroyed or reworked, he had a servant carry off the letter.

While he had his doubts regarding letting NATO's embassy handle the mail between him and his sister, he could not afford to miss out on the fact that it took only a day or two for her to receive and respond to the letter.

The risk that NATO was reading the letters was there, but… that was to his advantage. The Empire couldn't win against them, not yet. It would take time for the gap to be closed. Peace and trade to buy their secrets through backroom deals and alliances were what was required, and NATO had no desire towards conquest, that much he agreed with Pina on. If they had wanted the Empire to become a vassal or territory, then it would have already been so.

Instead, they were content to step back having won a victory, without breaking the Empire while Pina worked with them and tried to push for peace.

Diabo shook his head as the servant carried the sealed letter off, vanishing as they passed through the doorway.

Zorzal, the previous day, had been confirmed as the heir presumptive by the senate, with his official crowning as emperor to take place the next year, after an official year of mourning for their father.

This meant that the eldest of the two brothers was now ruler of the Empire. On paper, anyway. But Diabo knew where quite a few skeletons were buried, some literally. He held debts owed, and favours earned. So he was confident that the senate knew who truly ruled, behind the throne.

It had taken more bribes and gifts than he would have liked, but the senate had finally stopped delaying and accepted Zorzal as the crown prince. The trouble would be passing laws through them, without any of them getting the idea to push for more in exchange. They had been worn down by Molt's long rule, and he had tolerated no dissent. Now, with Zorzal new on the throne, Diabo feared some might attempt a power play.

But he was confident he could handle any of them.

Diabo's musings came to an abrupt end when a soldier entered his study, with no introduction or warning — just barging in as if he had permission, to Diabo's annoyance.

"What is it!?" He snapped at the man, noting him as one of the many that Zorzal had appointed to positions of his choosing, rather than one Diabo had pushed for.

"Prince Diabo, you are under arrest for treason against the Emperor, the senate, and the Saderan People."

Diabo blinked. He heard nothing past that of what the man said. When he finally realised what he had heard and tried to process it, the man laid his on his blade. Two more soldiers entered behind him.

"Will you come quietly?"

"You cannot arrest me," Diabo barked. A sense of dread grew in his stomach. "I am a prince of the Empire!"

"My orders are clear, Your Highness," The man tightened his grip on his sword, and began to draw the short blade.

Diabo paled.




"You are absolutely certain?" Zorzal demanded, again. As he repeated the question for the umpteenth time, his mind churned, remembering Sol's words, his warning of not trusting one close to him.

"As I have said, my prince," Bouro's weariness at answering the same question over and over bled through his mask and into his tone. "I am certain, beyond any doubt. The last letter outright confirmed it, having seized it before it left his palace. He was conversing with your sister, even telling her of deals made with the senate. It was clear that he was trying to play both sides."

Then, Bouro took on a more cautious tone before Zorzal's disbelief could make him repeat the question yet again.

"My prince, I fear that he may have been plotting against you," He suggested. "Far be it from me to cast doubt on an imperial person, but I have collected an alarming degree of political machinations he kept from you."

Zorzal winced. He collapsed into his seat, the chair creaking with the impact.

Disbelief was written on his face as he held his face in his hands. His stomach churned as he struggled to accept this.

"… he is unharmed, I trust?" Zorzal asked. He didn't quite miss the look of relief on Bouro's face at the different question.

"Yes, of course. I had him confined to a wing of his palace," Bouro answered. "His guard has been replaced with ones we can trust, but he is secure."

"Good," Zorzal schooled his face into something calmer. Only a shudder of his hands and the pale pallor of his face, which was slowly returning to normal, betrayed his distress. "Then I shall go and see him. I will have answers to what he has been doing and plotting."

"… of course, my prince," Bouro bowed. He twitched as if listening to something faint, before leaping back into the shadows behind him.

The door was thrown wide. In the frame, an officer, one of Zorzal's choices, stood. The man heaved, his brow covered in sweat, and his face was pale.

"Your Highness!" The officer panted. "Your brother… he's been murdered!"

Zorzal gripped the desk to keep from falling over, his legs turned to liquid.

"How!?" Zorzal struggled to not scream. "How and who?"

"An assassin, who slipped past the guards in a stolen uniform," The officer replied. "They escaped your Highness. I can offer no excuses. They used poison, adding it to the food your brother was served. We did all we could, when we saw his distress, but…"

The man shook.

The world slowed. Then, the dying light of the sun's rays burst into brilliant light. No one seemed to notice this unnatural event, Bouro remaining still, with a slight grimace on his face, and the officer, still pale… and no longer shaking as he had been.

They were both frozen. As was the entire room.

A third figure appeared, dressed in gold armour, the image of a victory etched into immaculate detail upon the breastplate. A laurel wreath sat upon their brow.

Zorzal's limbs felt strange, but he also felt a sense of recognition as he saw the figure.




Bouro kept himself from cackling. Things had fallen into place quite nicely. Diabo was dead and could not longer influence Zorzal. The idiot emperor had no one to turn to but him. He just needed to convince Zorzal to let him deal with those idiots in the senate that would resist his influence. As Bouro began to choose his next words, as the officer trailed off, Zorzal suddenly stood up straight, no longer leaning against his desk, his face stony, nostrils flared in anger, matching his furrowed brow.

The crown-prince's eyes flickered to Bouro.

"Bouro!" Zorzal barked, then visibly forced himself to speak more calmly. Bouro kept himself from smiling at the rage, that was oh so easy to use to manipulate him with. "Bouro, find me those responsible. You! You will assist him. I want a special unit formed, you will command it, for now. Once Bouro has the list of those likely responsible, you will arrest them. All of them, and anyone that stands in your way. If they resist, it's an admission of guilt. Kill them."

"At once, Your Highness!" The officer saluted, panic and relief etched into his face before he turned and rushed away.

Bouro smiled at the command. Things just became even easier. A few words to the man, who didn't even give Bouro a second glance, just obeying like a good servant, and with a properly curated list, Bouro had a complete blank check to remove anyone he found displeasing in the senate. With a bit of effort, that could easily expand beyond that, to the nobility and commoners. Finally, his plan was coming to fruition.

"As you command, my prince, my emperor," Bouro bowed. He didn't notice the way Zorzal's face had turned into an ugly glare, directed at him, mistaking it for simple anger, as it remained focused on him until well after he had left the prince's presence.




"Are you sure about this?" Zufmuut asked Sol, watching as senators and nobles were rounded up by Zorzal's troops.

"I told him what he needed to hear to push the civil war into starting," Sol shrugged. "The Empire will survive, and the others will have to deal with the castoffs. Young Pina will struggle to deal with her brother's allies. She is devoted to the cause of law and justice, while they are more interested in their enrichment."

"Ah, you use their corruption to weaken her," Zufmuut nodded. "Sowing disorder amongst our foes' pawns and ensuring an orderly organisation and devotion amongst our own. And Bouro?"

"Zorzal will enflame the passions and devotion of his subjects, yes," Sol nodded. "As for Bouro… well. His plots are counter to my interests and our agreement. His ambition and arrogance would tear the empire apart."

"Yes, of course," Zufmuut shrugged. Uncaring. "And the name of Zorzal's enforcers? That was also your work."

"It was," Sol admitted, truthfully. "An organisation from my homeland, though they had been disbanded by the time of my mortal birth. The Frumentarii. Let us hope they live up to the legacy."

Sol smiled as Zufmuut accepted his explanation before they both refocused on the chaos that was arising from within Sadera. Soon, the flames would spread with the flight of those who escaped, and the war would begin.
 
Thanks for chapter !
So,Sol is not idiot,he would use Bouro and Zorzal to cleance Empire,kill them,and gave power to Pina.Could work,if he decide to fight NATO,he would lost.

P.S Poor Diablo,he really wonted stronger Empire.....
 
Chapter 90 New
Pina groaned as yet another load of messages was dumped on her borrowed desk.

"More letters from Senators," One of the servants that had followed her out of Sadera to Italica said with an apologetic look. "Prince Zorzal has been… ruthless in hunting whoever killed Prince Diabo."

Pina rubbed her eyes in exhaustion.

"So I have gathered," She replied after a moment. "Thank you. You may go; take the rest of the night off."

"Thank you, Your Highness," The servant bowed before departing.

With a yawn, Princess Pina opened the top letter. She skimmed the empty platitudes and the request to defend them against accusations before shaking her head, yawning and setting the letter down.

There was little she could do to defend the senator. She didn't know if he was responsible, though it was surprising to see a member of Diabo's supporters coming to her. Nor was she familiar with what happened. There was the risk that Zorzal thought her responsible, a fear Pina did her best not to entertain while there was still a possibility of this ending without bloodshed.

Zorzal had yet to kill anyone, nor had his enforces, the 'Frumentarii', put anyone to death. He had even left the normal proceedings of criminals alone, letting the Sadera City Guard handle them. That left Pina with some, small, fragile hope, but it was a pale ghost of what had been when Diabo was still alive.

Part of her hoped that the information was wrong, that she had not lost both her brother and her father in the same year, whatever disagreements she might have had with them.

But as much as she might not wish it to be true, NATO had people, somehow, inside the capital, and they had confirmed a corpse looking just like her late brother. The photo, as it had been called, matched him far too well to be a fake.

The fact that he had been arrested by Zorzal was, she would painfully admit, suspicious. If she wasn't confident in her opinion of her brothers' and their alliance, she might have suspected that Zorzal had killed his brother to seize pow. Still, for all his brutality, Zorzal had never tried to harm either of their siblings and if he was going to, Pina felt that it was more likely that he would have done so sooner.

No, Pina knew in her heart that someone else was to blame, possibly even the same person who had killed her father. But the question was, who?

NATO didn't gain from it. They could have easily crushed the Empire earlier if they had wanted to. Their amassed supplies had been transferred with such speed that it wouldn't have even been a noticeable strain on their logistics.

Pina frowned.

That left the vassal kingdoms, senators, or one of the Empire's few remaining enemies. The latter group was unlikely, too far to easily send an assassin, and too poor to pay for the truly skilled local assassins over such a distance. With most of the former vassals released, that removed them as well. True, some of the remaining vassals might hold grudges… but why use assassins instead of open rebellion when the Empire could not react?

That left the senators. Pina felt weary, as she listed all the senators her father had angered over the years, and that was just the ones she knew of, not counting the ones that Diabo might have angered. Even then, she had no evidence that would point her in the right direction.

Pina felt a throbbing pain start in her temples.

"I'm running in circles," She sighed as a cold fall breeze wafted through the room. "Okay, a few more letters, since I can get those out of the way quickly, then bed."

She selected one letter at random, opening it.

With a sigh, she set aside a request for money in exchange for support. Zorzal, it seems, had damaged his standing in the senate more than she had realised.

With a shake of her head and a yawn, the princess headed off to bed, leaving the letters for the morrow.




The next day, a scheduled meeting kept her from her office. One she had been looking forward to.

"The adjusted shoulder will help our troops use guns?" Pina bluntly asked while inspecting the set of armour, placed on a mannequin for her convenience. It was a modified version of the standard chainmail armoured used by the Empire with a plate over the chest, leaving the arms covered only by padded cloth sleeves.

"Yes, Your Highness," Richard's acquaintance, who had made the modifications, confirmed. "The impact of the rifle butt against a soldier's shoulder would be debilitating with chainmail in the way. It does not prevent them from wearing gauntlets or chest armour, but it can't get in the way of shouldering a rifle. I also wouldn't recommend wearing pauldrons either."

"Thank you," Pina gave the man a thankful look. "And please convey my thanks to Richard, as well."

"Of course, your highness."

"Now, how difficult would it be to make more?" Pina frowned as she directed her gaze back to the armour.

"Your armourers should have no difficulties in copying the design," The man shrugged. "There is nothing complex about the design. Just shifting things to keep the shoulder clear."

"I see," The princess nodded. "Very well. I will give you the rest of the day off while I organise my armourers. Tomorrow, you can teach them."

"With pleasure, Your Highness," The man smiled. Pina could understand the man's mood. He had the opportunity to meet with practitioners of the craft that had died in his world. It was an opportunity to learn. If Pina had been in his shoes… she would be the same.

She honestly wished she was.

It weighed on her, the threat of her having to fight her brother and then rule as Empress.

But what else could she do? Run away? That would be worse. Her father's lessons, however brief, had expounded how important it was to have a ruler. An empire with no ruler was ruled by the mob, and mob rule was death to the empire, and its people.

With a sigh, Pina watched the man be escorted out before turning around and heading to her next meeting. Then there would be another and another, and more after that.

Asking for money, organising troops, spies, scouts. Reading books her father had left her, checking on the funds she had already secured, or listening to supplicants that had fled from her brother. There were a million things she needed to do and not enough time… and she wasn't fighting a civil war yet.

She hoped it would be never, but…

Pina pushed the doubts from her mind once again. The next meeting would be with Countess Myui, who had generously offered some land for her to base her people out of. But with winter fast approaching, she would need more, and food. That required negotiation, and the head maid acting as Myui's advisor was relentless and cunning. It would cost her to get the food she needed.

At least the Countess didn't have NATO advising her. Pina would take what small blessings she could. She didn't relish facing what negotiation tactics NATO's ambassadors might have, not with how hard it must be to keep such a massive alliance together.

"Your Highness?" Bozes, her armour marred by the dust of travel, stepped around a corner and seemed to have an urgent look on her face. "Lord Richard is here to see you. He just arrived by the train."

Pina bit back her whine as she felt a small bit of hope die.




Dressed in more resplendent armour than she had worn earlier, Pina stood to greet Richard as he was shown into the room. She was mildly surprised by who was with her. Mildly surprised… and filled with dread.

At least her training as a princess could be useful here. However, she would need to chastise her knights and guards for not telling her who Richard came with.

"Greetings, Lord Richard, and… my apologies, but how should I address you?"

Tyuule's gaze was hard and cold as she stared back.

"Formal protocol has not been established, yet," The former queen replied, with a clipped tone. "Nor do the old traditions of the Kingdom cover this situation. For now, I am the Empress' sister and her emissary."

"Very well, Lady Tyuule," Pina swallowed. Tyuule did not like her. Not that she could blame the woman. Her brother had boasted about his activities and conquests. At length. In lurid detail, especially when drunk. "Now, what brings you to Italica?"

"A meeting with the countess," Richard replied. His tone was warmer than Tyuule's, which was a minor relief. "However, there is a matter directly relating to you."

"I see," Pina bit her lip. "Then, please, take a seat."

She gestured to prepared seats. Once all three of them had seated themselves, Pina resumed speaking.

"Now, I am limited due to the current situation, but I won't be an ungracious host. Shall I call for refreshments?"

"Thank you, but no," Richard took the lead, while Tyuule maintained her cold look. "I will be honest. NATO thinks it's becoming more and more likely that your brother will start something. So, it has been recommended to me that we establish more formal contingencies."

"I see," The princess winced. She had expected something like this, eventually. "What support can I expect from NATO?"

"Limited, I'm afraid," Was Richard's honest, regretful reply. "You will be permitted to purchase a limited stock of weapons and ammunition, but NATO is concerned about the long-term effects of supplying the Saderan Empire."

Pina's eyes flickered to Tyuule. Yes, she could imagine just what NATO was concerned about. Maybe not with her... but what about her successor? Belligerent or ambitious subordinates? She could see the problem.

"In short, nothing that has not already been offered," Pina surmised.

"Not quite," Richard shook his head. "You would be granted logistics, information, and medical support, though there are some conditions. I believe you have access to the Geneva Conventions, and other related materials?"

"I was given several copies, yes," Pina nodded, connecting the dots. "I am willing to abide by them."

"There is another matter," Tyuule interjected with a harsh tone. "My people will be involved, no matter what either of us may want. So, I have made a suggestion to my sister, the Empress, which she has accepted. Any Warrior Bunny that does not fight under the Long Patrol will be permitted to engage the forces of your brother, if a Civil War should break out, as part of your auxiliaries, but they will have their own officer corp."

"I assume you will also want your homeland back?" Pina guessed. "I would offer that either way."

A flicker of confusion flashed across Tyuule's face.

"Furthermore," Tyuule pressed, with a glance at Richard, who looked less than happy about something. "We want several of the islands to the south."

"Islands?" Pina blinked in confusion. "I… the Colonies? May I ask why?"

"You…" Tyuule bit back her words, shifting what she was going to say. "Your brother destroyed a great deal of our traditions, history, and culture. Things that cannot be easily recouped, not through time, relations, blood, or land."

"… very well," Pina cautiously agreed. "Perhaps it would be best to negotiate the specifics of that, after the civil war, should it come to pass."

"I am willing to accept that," Tyuule replied with a bitter tone, that suggested otherwise.

"Now, for the Long Patrol…" Richard sheepishly looked at Pina. "It was pointed out to me by King Duran that I need to gain from this, if only for both of our appearances sake."

Pina winced again. She could see the logic, though she also suspected that the Wolf of Elbe was keener on seeing the Empire weakened than helping Sir Richard. Her father had some… choice words about the old warrior king.

"So, to that end," Richard continued. "In exchange for the support of the Long Patrol, as such as I can give it whenever or if the Civil War breaks out, I would ask for the remaining territory to the Glass Sea, including the port city and surrounding towns."

Pina sighed at the request. It made sense, given what Tyuule had asked for. But the loss of a trade port… no, it was manageable, especially with trade growing through the Gate. It might even be for the better. The colonies brought in exotic goods, yes, but… fleets were expensive to maintain.

"Very well," Pina straightened herself and drew upon her father's lessons. "But I must ask what you are offering."

"Well," Richard grinned. "King Duran offered me some ships, but instead I have borrowed some of his slips. I'm bringing in some materials from Earth, and some experts, to see what we can get together over the winter. It won't be much, but an ironclad ship with a modern diesel engine will outpace any Saderan ship. Outlast them too."

Pina did not know ships, but given NATO's victories so far, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Furthermore, King Duran has offered to permit me to hire Elbe mercenaries," Richard continued. "I could lend them to you, to bulk up your forces, if need be, while the Long Patrol takes the port city, then groups up with you."

Pina considered the offer.

"And what would you ask in exchange for that?" She almost burst out laughing at the double-take Richard did, as he realised he was being too generous. Tyuule elbowed him with a dirty look and a frown.

"Ahem," He cleared his throat. "Compensation for the money spent on the mercenaries, to be paid out in the event of war, after the war's completion in instalments. Would that be acceptable Your Highness?"

"It would be," Pina relaxed. "We can go over the exact numbers if my brother does do something foolish. But I hope you understand if I do not wish for the war to start."

Tyuule's face twisted into a glare.

"I very much would prefer if he did," She hissed.

Pina couldn't hide her flinch at the vitriol packed into the former queen's few words.

"I… understand. You of all people would… certainly have reason to… hate Zorzal," Pina swallowed. "But my concern is the people of the Empire."

"Slaves included?" Tyuule jabbed.

"I agree with NATO, that the system should be phased out," Pina countered.

Tyuule stared back at her, fury behind her eyes. Something flickered behind them. Pina prayed she wasn't going to ask what she feared.

"If, if, a war breaks out and Zorzal somehow survives… what will be done with him?" Tyuule asked. Her tone suddenly very calm.

Richard gently rested a hand on her shoulder.

"My apologies, Your Highness," The Warrior Bunny seemed to almost collapse into her seat as the fury left her. "I cannot blame you for having a duty to your people… and I have a duty to mine, though I rule no longer. Please forget I asked and… I would prefer, regardless of what happens, to hear nor see anything related to your brother again."

Pina felt her heart clench, both in fear and sympathy.

"Of course," Pina nodded. "Now, was there anything else?"

"No, Your Highness," Richard replied for the two of them. "Thank you for your time. My apologies that Tara couldn't be here herself, but…"

"The paperwork seems to multiply whenever I am not looking," Pina commiserated, before seeing them out.

Once they were gone, and she was alone for a moment, she gave an explosive sigh. Pain, fear, sorrow, terror, and dread all seemed to flash through her body, all at once.

If her brother did do something foolish… could she kill him? Imprisoning him wouldn't work. Exile would be worse.

Pina shook herself, before rubbing her face.

"… If it comes to it… I will just have to deal with it should it come."
 

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