Libertatis Imperium (Gate)

[charclone]

Richard tried not to stare as Giselle wolfed down her own body weight in food.

His own half-finished meat pie was forgotten as she downed whatever was on the table, ordering seconds between bites. Salads, sausages, meat fillets, and even a roasted chicken were torn apart before his eyes, vanishing down the blue draconian's gullet, washed down with what he knew was a relatively expensive beer from Canada.

After several moments, and several meals' worth of food gone, he interjected.

"I take it you don't get to eat very often?"

She paused a whole baked potato, still steaming, halfway to her mouth. She coughed lightly, though Richard wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or simply because of how fast she had been eating. She certainly didn't seem to care about her image.

Then again, Rory didn't care much either, not that she needed to, what with her ability to bisect a man with her strength and giant halberd.

"Hardy sends me out to so many places," She groaned, slumping in her chair. The potato vanished in a few bites before she continued. "I can't starve, but it sucks feeling your stomach be empty. Not that she cares. It's always 'Go and stand on top of this canyon for three months, and don't leave until I say.' or 'Guard this temple for three years. No, there isn't any food inside.'"

Giselle picked at her food.

"At least here I get decent food," She grumbled. "I don't recognise some of it. It's from the other side of the Gate, then?"

Richard frowned, nodding.

"Yes, some of it is. The beer for example," He said, before changing the subject. "I get the impression you don't like me."

Giselle flinched.

"…no," She admitted, sighing. "I… my kind live longer than humans. Because of that, I was passed over for promotion in the priesthood, for decades. I had friends that started lower than me, and died as leaders of temples."

"So, being told to obey a mortal reminds you of that, which you dislike?"

Giselle snorted, her wings twitching in the process.

"Fuck no," She gave a toothy grin, displaying her inhuman dentition. "I hate being under mortals, who should be cowering before my power."

Richard raised an eyebrow at her bravado, noting the faint hollow tone in her voice. He said nothing, finishing his meat pie.

Any further conversation was interrupted by a member of the long patrol storming into the establishment.

"Sir Richard, there is a merchant at the gate to the town," The wolfman in chainmail breathlessly said. "An argument started, and several others are accusing him of owning slaves."

Richard groaned.

"Not this crap again," He stood from the chair. "Bet it's that feud again,"

As he left, he told a server that he would be back.

Giselle stood, hesitating to glance at Richard's retreating form as it disappeared out the door, and the food still on the table.

A hand grasped her wing.

Giselle flinched, both at the crushing grip and at the strength behind the small hand.

"Sister," Giselle gasped out. "Is there something you need?"

"Sit," Rory smiled. "He'll be back. But I'd like a word with you, first."

Giselle glanced at the older demigod suspiciously.

"You have something on your face," Rory said, still smiling, as she sat down in Richard's seat. Her smile became gentler for a moment, as Giselle wiped water from her eyes. "Now, what is going on!?"

Several heads turned to look at the pair. After a moment, all but the marines Rory had been sitting with glanced away, unwilling to attract the ire of a pair of demigods.

"Emroy and Hardy are working together, gods are drawing dividing lines," Rory hissed, leaning over the table, both hands pressed onto its surface. "There is a new god that has been born, one with power over Apocryph. What. Is Going. On.?"

Giselle blinked, shrugging.

"I don't know," She admitted with a huff. "After the dragon was killed, Hardy berated me, and sent me off here."

Rory glared. Silence hung between them, before Rory gave in, hanging her head with a huff.

"And this is why you are an errand girl," She jabbed without heat. "Fine."

As Rory got up to leave, she paused.

"By the way, what exactly did Hardy order you to do, regarding Richard?"

"Erm," Stammered Giselle, before glancing to the side. "I was to serve him and aid in his efforts."

Rory laughed.

"Well, you don't have to worry about him… using you like a follower of Miritta," She said, her tone teasing. "He seems devoted to Tara and his culture doesn't permit multiple wives nor accept mistresses. He won't approach you unless you seem interested."

"I'm not. Not my type, not enough scales," Giselle relaxed.

"By the way, you do plan on paying for half of the meal, don't you?" Rory's grin became sharkish.

Giselle frowned, confused.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Part of a… Terran courting ritual," Rory explained, leaving out details for her amusement. "They call it a 'date', and in it, one, usually the man, pays for the meal. He and Tara have gone on several already, I believe."

Giselle felt dread bubble up in her stomach.

If she caused problems with Richard's courting of this 'Tara', Hardy would be mad at her, for creating trouble for Richard, against orders. Even if she was lucky, and it caused no problems, she had no interest in Richard.

She had already noted, with the way people deferred to Rory, that the town was her territory, likely due to her assistance in building it. That meant that there were no temples to Hardy she could borrow money from. That left money lenders.

She glanced at the food. The large amount of food, that she had ordered and eaten.

She glanced at Rory, already back with the Marines, laughing about something.

"Uh, oh."

---

Yao Haa Dushi was at a loss.

The Fire Dragon was dead at the hands of NATO. Exactly what her tribe's elders had desired her to achieve.

But she had failed to do anything. She was not so stupid as to lie, claiming credit for ensuring it happened, and while the elders had not explicitly exiled her, her foul luck was well known, as was her mission.

The diamond, a treasure of her tribe, sent with her to achieve her goals through payment, hung heavy at her side in its pouch. Between it and her body, it was hoped that the dragon's death could be bought.

She couldn't go back in failure.

Worse, her attempts to award the dragonslayers had been blocked. Bureaucracy was not unknown to the dark elves, from their dealings with Saderan traders and mercenary work, but she had been shocked to learn that slavery was outlawed and that there was a lengthy process to awards.

The NATO officer she had spoken with had been sympathetic and had established some allowances for her, such as a room in an inn. The head-sized diamond had not been explicitly refused, but the officer had explained that it was not a simple matter, given the number of people that were involved, NATO's policies, and the fact that it had been a force composed of a mix of several nations' soldiers and citizens that had slain the beast.

In the end, it left her stuck in the town while the issue was resolved.

She was being housed as an emissary, but once the matter of the diamond was dealt with, Yao was unsure of what would happen to her. The tribe would not want her back, even with their depleted numbers. Few female dark elves were accepted as mercenaries, even with her skills with bow, blade, and magic.

She blinked as an elf, dressed in a red coat with black pants, sat next to her in the bar.

Unlike her dark complexion, this elf was fair-skinned, possibly a wood or high elf.

She gave Yao a nod, before ordering a drink.

"That's… that is an otherworlder uniform," She said, frowning as she heard a slight slur in her voice. Perhaps she had gotten deeper into her cups than she had realised. Or the otherworlder drinks were stronger. "Sorry, just…" She hiccupped. "Just trying to figure out my life."

The other elf smiled.

"I understand," She said. "Most of my village was destroyed by a Fire Dragon. Only a few others survived. Hodor, his daughter, and a few others. We only survived because of NATO soldiers, from the Canadian 4th Division. They drove off the Dragon, wounding it."

Yao nodded sympathetically.

"It had slain most of my tribe," She explained. "I was sent to get help from NATO when we first heard about them, but when I got here, I saw the corpse being flown to the Gate, carried by one of those metal birds."

"Helicopter, they call them," The elf explained. "I take it you don't have anything to go back to?"

"I was… told to use whatever I could to get their help," Yao said. "Including a treasure of the tribe and my body."

"But NATO outlawed slavery," The elf noted. "So, you were exiled? Why?"

Yao considered how to answer.

"Bad luck. It… harmed everyone close to me," She said morosely, ordering another drink. "Three boyfriends, taken by either my best friend, chance, and the dragon. Then there are all the times I ruined a hunt or was ambushed by the dragon, being one of the few survivors."

The high elf, based on her accent, winced.

"Well, the Long Patrol is hiring," She suggested. "There are only a few elves that have joined, most former Saderan slaves that were freed or escaped."

"The Long Patrol?"

"Sir Richard's personal forces," The elf grinned. "You heard about the Black Knight that drove the Saderans from Sacred Alnus? He was also one to wound the Fire Dragon."

Yao bolted from her seat.

"What about my luck? How long would it be for?"

The high elf waved her hands at the tide of questions.

"One at a time please," She said. "From what I have heard, it is for six years, renewed every four if you want to stay in. I even am being considered for an officer slot. And it would be nice to have a few more elves. There are so many humans and Warrior Bunnies joining."

Yao bit her lip.

"I'll… consider it."

 

[ATP]

So,both Giselle and Yao would be out of Richard personal life,and made their own careers.
And Giselle would need money to pay for food.Why she do not just hunt sometching ?

P.S It is good,that author do not followed canon here.One of worst stories are made,when we made one side stronger,like here,but notching change in story.

Especially on fanfiction.net - there were many X walker stories in LOTR,and Asoif where young powerpuff girls come - and stories do not change,only Legolas/LOTR/ or Jon Snow/Asoif/ in the end get powerpuff waifu.

As if that change anytching.

 

[Doctor Blood]

I laughed every time Rory and the marines were brought up. Someone needs to offer her some crayons and tell her it's part of their ritual of initiation, lol.

Looking forward to the next chapter!

 

[Spartan303]

Wait...People left Rory with Marines!? Let's just say she's going to be...well satisfied of virtually all her appetites.

And I do not want to ponder that image greatly. But if she doesn't have at least a dozen marriage proposals I'll be disappointed.

 

[charclone]

Wait...People left Rory with Marines!? Let's just say she's going to be...well satisfied of virtually all her appetites.

And I do not want to ponder that image greatly. But if she doesn't have at least a dozen marriage proposals I'll be disappointed.

Now now, with the laws as they are, that would likely be illegal, and the Marines, here at least, aren't that bad.

But yes, she has been alongside them in anti-bandit operations. And shenanigans. And may or may not had swallowed an entire box of crayons on a single bite, just to prove she could.

The Marines also vehemently deny any and all accusation that their cult (that is, of marine culture) of having been adopted by her.

 

[ATP]

Now now, with the laws as they are, that would likely be illegal, and the Marines, here at least, aren't that bad.

But yes, she has been alongside them in anti-bandit operations. And shenanigans. And may or may not had swallowed an entire box of crayons on a single bite, just to prove she could.

The Marines also vehemently deny any and all accusation that their cult (that is, of marine culture) of having been adopted by her.

Since she is 942 year old,then she could claim that marines are all her grandkids.

 

[charclone]

Since she is 942 year old,then she could claim that marines are all her grandkids.

961, actually. At least according to the manga and wiki.

 

[charclone]

Molt ignored the way his eldest son grumbled, instead sipping his wine. They had arrived a few hours earlier than expected, mostly due to Zorzal's impatience.

Molt had felt it necessary to bring all of his children to this gathering. It was, after all, part of the peace efforts, and he would not be the one to insult 'NATO'. With them, he had brought an appropriate number of his best troops, as well as gifts, such as a set of armour, once worn by Molt himself, for Sir Richard, after he had heard the news of his last set being damaged by a Fire Dragon. He intended to use the gift to get some information on just what had transpired, as the usual covert lines were awash with contradictory rumours.

Other gifts had been brought, but one, in particular, was the source of Zorzal's ire. He had not been pleased with being forced to give up his trophy, even if she was soon to be a source of strife.

Still, Count Arruns Lu Bonifatius was being a gracious host. Despite retiring from politics to educate his adopted children, he retained sufficient influence to arrange for a wealth of luxuries to be available for guests.

Some, Molt noted, were from beyond the Gate. Others, however, were from the Empire's southern colonies, or across the western deserts, and there were even game that had been caught and transported from the Warrior Bunny's homeland, far to the East.

In different situations, Molt might have suspected the Count was trying to curry favour with NATO and its Warrior Bunny vassals.

But the Count was too direct a man for that sort of intrigue.

Spies had confirmed that he was doing his best to be a good host, even going so far as to cater to each culture that was present and request assistance from NATO and the Imperial Household to tailor the spread.

A bizarre sound shook Molt from his reverie. A strange choppy hum.

His daughter pointed to the sky.

"There," She shouted. "NATO's helicopters."

Molt watched, snorting, as the giant metal boxes came closer.

"Bah, our wyvern riders should be able to bring those down!" Zorzal boasted. "Look at how they fly, with no grace, like lumbering beasts."

"So much like yourself," Diabo muttered, barely heard by Molt. "A lumbering brute."

"Diabo," Molt said. "From what Pina has told us, what role could you see those machines serving in an army?"

His more politically competent son gave him a startled and confused look.

"Well," He started, tentatively, before Zorzal interjected.

"Transportation, like a barge, but one that can fly," He huffed. "Slow and easy pickings for a real force, but useful."

Molt simply raised an eyebrow at the interjection.

Diabo shrugged, apparently uncaring, and unwilling to risk greater guesses.

"Pina?" Molt asked as the transports landed.

"They are transports, like barges, but they are used to carry troops, supplies, wounded, or even as headquarters," Pina explained. "So closer to a large wagon than a barge, but Zorzal was fairly correct."

"And what is this?" Molt asked.

Pina and Diabo both blinked.

Alongside the NATO troops and entourage, soldiers wearing a red coat, white helms, and black pants mustered in the landing field. Their discipline and order were equal to any Imperial Legion, though below that of the Praetorian Guard.

Molt winced as a band suddenly began to play, as the NATO soldiers and unknowns marched as two separate, but equally coordinated, formations. Pina herself seemed nonplussed, and Diabo visibly recoiled at the assault on his ears.

Zorzal on the other hand, seemed amused, even entertained, at the loud, shriek-like wails that came from the band, nearly drowning out the more normal drums.

"Hah!" He laughed. "I should get a few of those instruments. It sounds like the wailing of defeated foes!"

Molt did his best to ignore the wailing of what he later learned were called bagpipes, draining his wine to assist in that matter, and instead studied the unknowns.

A sudden shout from other guests distracted him.

He saw three shapes fly in and land.

Two were unnerving to be so close to. Juvenile Flame Dragons.

The third was less disturbing but no less unnerving. A Draconian, dressed in the attire of a priest of Hardy. Likely her demigod, then, if some rumours were to be believed.

The demigod kept pace with the officer leading the redcoat force.

"That would be Sir Richard then?" He asked Pina. "At the front? I see he has replaced his sword."

Indeed, there was something mystical about the blade on his back, the black contrasting sharply with the bright red.

Shapes became clearer as they came closer, and Molt began to distinguish individual species amongst them.

While all the NATO soldiers were human, there were many demihumans amongst Richard's force. From wolfmen to Draconians, to many Warrior Bunnies and many others besides. He blinked when he caught sight of what might have been a Dar.

"Ah, that would be Richard's Long Patrol then," Pina said. "The Alnus Militia."

"Bah, even with those fancy guns they are carrying, I bet any Imperial force could crush them," Zorzal snorted. "Father, are you sure we can't keep fighting?"

"Yes," Molt bit back his initial, less polite response. "They just flew, with only three of those helicopters, a decent raiding force over the Dumas mountains. Replace the dignitaries with supplies, and those could be used as an effective force to cripple our ability to coordinate our armies. Given they slew a Fire Dragon, and now two demigods are amongst them, I suspect the gods do not want us to wage another war."

Zorzal's face flickered as an emotion bubbled to the surface, before being forced back down.

Pina was unsurprised at this. What surprised her was that she saw something similar in both her brothers and that Zorzal had the self-control not to push the issue further, again.

"Well, I suppose we should greet them," Molt stood, stepping away from the pavilion, headed towards where the NATO delegation would be greeted by their host.

---

Richard steeled himself as the Count greeted the higher-ranked members of the delegation first, going down the line. Behind him, the Long Patrol, or rather the thirty of them that were best at marching and had not embarrassed themselves off duty, stood stiffly at attention. Inch-Pattern FALs, empty and with locked safeties, lay against their shoulders, polished and oiled.

Finally, Count Arruns stepped towards him.

They stared at each other for a moment.

The Saderan that had tried to take him prisoner and participated in the invasion of Canada.

The Black Knight that had slain his son, and evaded recapture, slaying many of the Count's men.

General Jameson shot Richard a concerned look.

Finally, the Count gave a slight smile. Pain was behind his eyes, but he did not place the blame for his son's death at the hands of the otherworlder, not anymore.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance," The Count said. "Sir Richard. I must profess my apologies for the way we met, months ago. It was unbecoming of civilised nations and it cost all things dear to them. I trust you are doing better?"

Richard swallowed, his throat feeling dry.

"Quite," He strangled out, before coughing into his fist. "I hope I find you and your family likewise doing better?"

He felt sweat trickle down the back of his neck and moisten his forehead beneath the pith helm.

"Indeed," Count Arruns chortled. "Now, I welcome, you and yours, to my estate. Be welcome and enjoy yourselves. While it may be too early to celebrate a treaty, it is not too late to celebrate the cessation of hostilities and what the future may bring. As well as your victory over the Ancient Fire Dragon."

Richard twitched.

"I was merely present and dealt it a wound. It was a joint effort between NATO soldiers."

"Then we celebrate that monster's death, regardless," Giselle scowled, near the front of the line, the dark look unseen by the Count. "Now, my wife and I would like the chance to speak to you in private, if you would be comfortable with that. We… have matters that need to be settled. I swear we bear you no ill intent."

"I… will consider it," Richard said, tentatively.

The Count nodded sagely, smiling, before continuing onwards to greet others.

Tara laid a hand on Richard's shoulder.

"You alright?" She discreetly asked him, her voice low.

"I'm fine, just… nervous," Richard replied as the delegation began to head past the boundary of the estate. "Weren't you enslaved by him?"

"One of his subordinates, yes," Tara's face darkened. "But I settled that account the day we escaped the camp. This… is more complex and delicate, with the peace treaty."

Richard snorted.

"That's an understatement."

 

[ATP]

And now,sir Richard would try explain again that he do not kill dragon,and certainly do not rule over anytching.
It would be funny,if Zorzal try to kill/imprison him to take NATO down!
Well,not for Richard,but still.

 

[charclone]

Pina sighed as she reclined in a seat, within her private quarters. The first day of these sorts of celebrations was always exhausting, filled with formality, social codes, and greeting other nobles. NATO threw several of the social codes out the window, but Pina had made the mistake of choosing to wear a pair of shoes from the other side of the Gate. They had seemed similar to her riding shoes, albeit with a slightly higher and thinner heel, obviously for aesthetic reasons, but she had underestimated how uncomfortable they would be wearing them for the entire day.

Still, Pina was confident she could recognise every dignitary and noble, and many of their aids, present for the festivities.

She set the 'high heels' to one side. Tomorrow, given the planned festivities, she intended to wear something more practical.

Her father had made sure that she was involved and presented to each of the dignitaries as his daughter. Not quite as a favoured child, he introduced each of his children, despite Zorzal alternating between irreverence and hostility, but it was clear he was presenting her as someone with his confidence.

The NATO dignitaries all could speak Saderan, if not well, then at least understandably and in a manner that conveyed their learned backgrounds. A fact that resulted in Diabo spending more than a little time with them.

From what Pina overheard, he spent most of his time talking over refreshments about the differences in who the upper classes were of each society, what their cultures saw as high class and other topics related to the lifestyle of the powerful.

Why he was so focused on it, Pina wasn't sure, but she suspected he was plotting something. She just hoped it wasn't going to restart the war.

Her other brother, Zorzal, was off muttering darkly for the most part, joined by some of his cronies, younger members of the nobility, keeping to themselves. Pina prayed that he wasn't planning to restart the war.

Count Bonifatius himself, despite having lost his son to Richard on the other side of the Gate, had volunteered to host this festival, which also served to permit some level of discussion between NATO and the Empire. While Pina was suspicious of his motives, he had retired from politics to raise his adopted children. She found it unlikely that he would start anything, as the Senate would eat him alive now that he had given up his on-feudal powers and many political connections.

Pina shook her head and sighed.

She was stressing herself out worrying.

She reached for a bell to summon a servant, when her page, Hamilton Uno Ror entered.

"My apologies for the intrusion your highness," She said bowing.

"It is no trouble, Hamilton," Pina smiled. "I was just about to summon a servant for some rosewater to soak my feet in. Those 'high heels' are painful. How does anyone get anything done wearing them?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, your highness," Hamilton said. "However, your brother, his Highness Prince Diabo, is outside, requesting to meet with you."

Pina pouted, slouching in her chair.

"Did he mention if it was urgent?"

"No, your highness," Hamilton reported. "Just that he wished to speak with you. He was not dressed formally."

Pina chewed her lip briefly. She was certain that Diabo was up to something.

"Very well, but send for a servant for me when you do," She said after a moment with a sigh. "My feet are killing me."

Diabo appeared a few moments after Hamilton vanished.

"Sister," He greeted with faux warmth. "I trust you are well?"

"Brother," Pina smiled back. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

His eyes briefly flickered to a purple silk wall hanging, before refocusing back on her.

"I have some questions, regarding NATO," He replied. "I hope it would not be too much trouble. Just some details that were missed in your reports."

Pina sat up and gestured at the chair across a small table from her.

"Shall I call for refreshments? It is growing late, but I'm sure something can be put together."

Diabo's smile grew from one of politeness to one of humour and shook his head.

"If there is anything available, I suspect our brother will have already claimed and consumed it," He joked as he sat down. "Now, my point of confusion is that the… nation that we invaded, 'Canada'. It has the smallest military in their alliance, yet, why do they have a primary seat in the negotiations?"

"While they are not a military power, Canada has connections to several other nations, and lacks land borders with most of them," Pina explained. "From what I understand, it acted as a neutral party and negotiator between several members of NATO, as well as maintained a non-aggressive stance, to attain a reputation of a peacemaker and negotiator on the other side of the Gate."

"I see, so they have a great deal of political weight?"

"Not quite, more they appear to have many connections with which they could attain such political weight, as well as the fact that they appear tied through trade to a great many other nations."

"So, not quite a power we should be immediately wary of," Diabo mused, rubbing his chin. "But instead one that could quickly become one, should the need arise during negotiations, if pushed?"

"That is my understanding of things, yes," Pina nodded.

"I see. Then, the other members of the delegation…."

As Diabo continued to ask questions, and was answered in turn, Pina struggled to see a pattern in them. Wondering just what her brother was after.

Eventually, as a servant arrived with her steaming rosewater, with another carrying candles in tow, Diabo ended his slew of questions, bidding her a good night.

Pina frowned, as she caught him staring once more at the purple silk wall hanging, just before he left. Aside from the expensive colour, there was nothing special about it. It had been a gift from her father, used alongside others, to keep the interior of her rooms warm, as insulation.

"Is there something about the wall hanging draws your eye?"

Diabo looked back at her for a moment.

"Not at all," he said, and turned back around, leaving Pina confused, with her purple wall hanging.

 

[ATP]

smart Diablo try to outsmart NATO ?

 

[Spartan303]

Very interesting indeed. I look forward to more.

 

[charclone]

True to form, when Diabo entered his brother Zorzal's tent, he was wolfing down food while reclining on a couch.

"Come try this," He said through a mouthful. "NATO may be cowards who fight at range, but they have quality spices."

Diabo sighed.

"Please tell me you didn't pilfer from their stores," He groaned. "We do not need them taking offence."

"Nah," Zorzal swallowed, then snorted in amusement. "Our host provided them. He bought large amounts for the party."

He ended his answer by grabbing a handful of sweetmeats and eating them all in one go.

Diabo found his brother's gluttony repulsive. He took no time to savour the delicacies, simply wolfing them down in number.

"Anyway, what did you want to talk about?" Zorzal asked before draining a glass he pulled from somewhere. "Ah, would you like a glass? It's Saderan wine."

"No, thank you, brother," Diabo rolled his eyes. The colour and consistency as it had sloshed around in the glass had revealed it was more than just wine. "I wanted to discuss our sister."

"Oh? What's she done now?" Zorzal asked with an irreverent tone, pouring himself another glass of the expensive and rare wine. "Decided to marry one of her knights? Ran off somewhere to rescue peasants?"

"Father intends to make her heir."

Zorzal spat the wine out, staining the distant wall of the tent. Diabo gave it a distasteful glance, even if the distance was impressive.

"Explain," Zorzal sat up. His muscles suddenly taught as he regarded his brother with a level of attention and focus that Diabo couldn't say he had ever seen on his face.

"I spoke with her, just a few minutes ago," He explained. "She has always regarded us warmly, if distantly. But Father has been spending a great deal of time with her, more than just his usual doting. He has been pushing her to become more involved with politics. Many of her knights' families are powerful, well-connected, or both, even if they are not all patrician familia. Further, they have been networking. Unskilled and unsubtle, but they are doing so, and they are coordinating. When I met with her, there was a foreign look of suspicion in her eyes. One I recall seeing on those being introduced to politics for the first time."

Zorzal shrugged, as if not caring.

"So?" He said. Yet, Diabo saw the flicker of fear in his eyes. "So, father is forcing her to be a politician. It was to be expected, and even I have to be present and involved in those boring senate meetings."

"Because you are the firstborn," Diabo countered. "I choose to be involved. But neither of us are Porphyrogenitus. Neither of us were born while Father was Emperor, only Pina was after he ascended to the throne. The fact that she was born to a concubine was irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things, should the senate choose to appoint her as heir."

Diabo stared at his brother for a moment, before he opened his mouth to continue.

Zorzal interrupted him.

"I know there have been Empresses before," He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Fine, what are we going to do about it?"

"My preferred option would be to… dissuade her, but with father assisting her, I feel that may be the most difficult," Diabo replied. "Thus, I believe the best option would be to undermine her in the eyes of the Senate. I propose we coordinate. You have many allies in the military and senate, and when combined with my own, I am confident we can leverage enough political power to keep her from being named heir. However, our father is still an issue. We will need to somehow convince him to support either of us."

Zorzal, with a thoughtful look on his face that looked completely out of place to Diabo, hummed.

"A few slave rebellions aren't headed to Alnus," He said. "I could crush them easily enough. Could I count on your support in the Senate to properly leverage those victories?"

"You may," Diabo felt a chill at his brother's unexpected display of intelligence.

"Although, there is the question of which one of us would be best suited to be heir," Zorzal said.

Diabo relaxed. The look in Zorzal's eye was one of ambition. Something familiar, and easier to manipulate.

"You, I believe, would be best," Diabo smiled as he spoke. "I am… not militarily inclined enough to be trusted as Emperor by the soldiers. No, I believe High Seneschal, with a seat on the Senate, would be enough for me."

Zorzal snorted as if amused by something.

"Fine," He said, waving his hand. "Although, if our father decides to, say, name you heir, then I would have you swear on the gods that I would be made Imperial General."

"I doubt father, or the senate, would make me heir," Diabo forced a laugh. "But very well."

He scrambled in surprise as Zorzal tossed him a glass, before holding out a clear bottle. Diabo could barely see the clear contents splashing inside.

"Here, a gift from one of the NATO dignitaries. I already had it tested for poison," Zorzal said. "A toast to seal our alliance, for the good of the Empire."

Diabo let Zorzal pour him a glass of the clear liquid.

He swirled it around in the glass.

"What is this?"

"Uh," Zorzal made an expression of attempting to think. "I think it was called 'Absolute Crystal Vodka' by the servant that delivered it?"

"Well, it lives up to the name," Diabo admitted, watching the clear liquid swish in the glass. "Very well, to the good of the Empire."

Diabo winced at the force with which Zorzal knocked the glasses together before they downed the drink.

Diabo gave a sputtering cough at the burning sensation of the unfamiliar alcohol going down his throat.

Zorzal simply laughed at his brother's discomfort.

"So, what else do you have in mind?"

Neither of them noticed a shadow, moving contrary to the sputtering light from the candles, creep away.

---

"So," Molt sighed. "My sons think to prove themselves more suited to rule? We shall see."

He took a deep breath, sinking deep into the cushioned chair he had favoured for years.

"Thank you, Bouro, for bringing this to my attention."

The strange creature bowed before the emperor.

"It is my pleasure to serve the Empire," He truthfully said. "By your leave?"

Molt dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

He considered how to deal with his sons. In the end, he decided to let it be, for now. He would deal with their attempts to undermine Pina, and the senate obeyed him. They would choose his chosen heir when the time came.

 

[Spartan303]

Politics abound. Its interesting to see where this goes.

 

[ATP]

Bouro choosed smartly here.In canon he supported Zorzal,which was illogical becouse he must lost.
Here,facing NATO? he decided that supporting Molt is best.

 

[charclone]

Bouro choosed smartly here.In canon he supported Zorzal,which was illogical becouse he must lost.
Here,facing NATO? he decided that supporting Molt is best.

Not necessarily. I have hinted to his plans, which are not exactly in Molt's favour, and are similar to canon.

But that is all I will say on the matter.

 

[ShadowArxxy]

Not necessarily. I have hinted to his plans, which are not exactly in Molt's favour, and are similar to canon.

But that is all I will say on the matter.

I have a lot of sympathy for the Haryo Tribe, and I think they were entirely justified in their goal of bringing down the Empire from inside. They also have a pretty good point about being the only group that is actually indigenous to Falmart.

 

[charclone]

I have a lot of sympathy for the Haryo Tribe, and I think they were entirely justified in their goal of bringing down the Empire from inside. They also have a pretty good point about being the only group that is actually indigenous to Falmart.

Well, that's the thing. They don't want to bring it down, they want to take it over. They also aren't the only 'hybrid/chimera' species/group on Falmart, just the one that developed its own identity.

 

[ShadowArxxy]

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

 

[ShadowArxxy]

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