34 Chapter 34: the Counter-Coup (Part 2)

Cocking Ruiner, Diaz gestured his accompanying Cortege of PMC's under Aparo-Payroll into the front door of the Embassy.

The door was enchanted with a protective forcefield that only Elves could pass through. Anyone else, and the force field would as it would often be programmed to be, repulse any intrusion attempts back with a non-lethal but very discouraging bolt of shock to the trespasser. This was a normal security measure for Elves when they want to restrict access to certain areas back in Alfel Nora.

Thankfully Aliathra, who had experience creating such Locks knows how to reverse it. It took several tense minutes of blending within plain sight of the crowds of festival-goers for Diaz and the rest of his Allies to await the Elf's 'unlocking' process.

The Embassy itself sat in contrast with the rest of the architecture of Old Souviel. While the surrounding buildings were of unpainted wood and plastered brick. The Elven Embassy, about 2 stories' high with immaculate architecture and aestheticism. It had no creases nor any gaps in between the fine details of the building as if the building erupted from the ground in its splendid form during construction. The embassy was also sporting a pallete of gold, white, green and blue shades of the Ethuilen Entente's colors that meshed together in strokes that invited inspiration with delicate flora, fearsome Elven weaponry and majestic Elven artistic refinement for all the rest.

"Form up." Diaz commanded.

Piling up behind Aliathra, Diaz and the rest of the Mercenaries checked their weapons and did a last-minute examination of their target. Judging by the sounds of the party, they know where the all-important Ambassador, Thelanil by his name as given by Aliathra.

After undoing the Magical Forcefield, Aliathra could only freeze in thought as she stared blankly at the Embassy's door knob with her hand out of reach except if she stretched out a few inches further. She began to think again of what brought her here in the first place.

She turned the nob of the Embassy door and pushed through. Yet her nerves tensed around her and her heart skipped a beat every step she took in the Embassy alongside her 'companions'.

For the Aparo Mercs, their first time seeing the cultural enclave of Elven representations was quite a rejuvenating experience when they passed by the Embassy's interior. Based on Diaz's experience in walking around Kesserheim, a Melting Pot in its own right, he can distinguish of Stile Liberty, the Italian Variant of Art Nouveau, a popular style dating back to the early twentieth century and has still been one for artsy Hipsters and Historophiles 'born in the wrong century'. He can observe two key distinctions, the structural and floral patterns on the furnishings upon first glance and along the Frescoes that covered the walls. The second figure was far more subtle and it takes a keen eye to notice that all of these items found were of artisanal quality. Made by hand yet also each furnishing is anatomically one of a kind from each other, as if the whole building doubled not only as a diplomatic outpost but also an art gallery.

"Hey, Alie. What's that over there?" Diaz asked.

He pointed to a Fresco with an azure view of an Elven City across a great blue bay. A silvery sun could be seen rising upwards to heaven. From the sky, its illumination beams downwards on the city.

"My Home, Ethuilen, Ser Diaz." Aliathra answered. "If my people don't take heed, then I am afraid you and I won't be able to see it." The Elf whimpered.

Alongside Diaz and their accompanying mercenaries, they walked quietly towards the celebratory cheers of Elven regale.

By Elven Law, she is a criminal entering the mouth of the beast. Word of her 'Corruption' should be known by now by all of the Royal Family and the Sefydliad. Her Heart and her legs, that she had covered in a thick pair of jeans and shoes provided by the UFE to disguise her obvious 'Sign of Corruption' were of unnatural design. Yet deep down, she knew she was still the same Elven Princess.

Aliathra Lareththor, third and the youngest child of King Arslan and Queen Elisven. Known to be selfless and attentive of the Royal Children. Being raised by her mother in the manners of proper Elven Maidenhood, trained by the best teachers across the world and patronizing through the tenet scriptures of the Maternal Goddess of Life's words and her spell craft. All of her memories were intact and she still held on to those years of her Cultivation into the Maiden she is today.

Yet deep down, she held an inner apprehension about how will the rest of her Kind would say? She hadn't dare show her face in front of another Elf since the time she was chased off of Vercourt. There would be many prominent Elves appearing inside that Embassy that night. Some of whom she likely had known during her years. She had before in her days of youth, presented herself as the quintessential Elven Maiden only rivaling her sister Ithiel in values of Grace, Duty and Filial Piety.

Aliathra needed to speak to them. Tell them, that their fears that they let themselves be taken over by, shouldn't be the case. The UFE, these people weren't the Demons of the Old Legends. She needed to clear her name and hope they see what she sees. But yet, she feared the one thing that could happen, if they still believe she is only trying to corrupt them into the service of these 'Demons'.

She partly hated what she had become, yet despite her Mechanical Heart, she had a contradictory high opinion on the state of Medicine Craft that the Earthling have. Not using magic but creating 'life' from objects that do not.

"Aliathra? We're ready." Diaz said.

"I… I…" the Elf hesitated. Her hand once again frozen as she reached for the door.

"Hey, look Alie, if you're not comfortable doing this. Let me do the talking and just sit back behind one of us." Diaz reassured her.

"No, it's not that Ser Vincent. I need to do this." Aliathra rebooted herself from her self-loathing state.

"M'kay, but if things go south, I will protect you." Diaz smiled.

"Pray that it does not come to that." Aliathra requested. "But hold back please. My people will likely react violently if they see you. Let me talk to them, alone."

"Sure." Diaz said as he picked up an object from his pocket.

"When shit does go bad, I will toss this in. When you see it. Close your eyes you got that?" Diaz instructed as he held an explosive device on his hand.

Judging by the sun like symbol indicative on its surface, Aliathra discerned it was what they call a 'Flashbang'. The Elf nodded as she reached her hand forward to the door with Diaz and the rest of the Aparo Mercenaries holding back beside each of the door's left and right sides readying themselves for entry.

With no turning back now, Aliathra, opened the last door that lead to her Final Judgement…

"Ambassador Thelanil?" Aliathra said as she walked into the Elven Celebration.

The party's opulent atmosphere of gossip, light snacking and music abruptly stopped as their eyes turned to the unexpected guess.

At first, the Ambassador thought it was a late comer. But as he swims his way across to examine the graceful Ethuileni accent worthy of a Noble Woman, his welcoming demeanor turned into shocked horror as what lay before him is the 'Fugitive Princess' Aliathra Lareththor, the youngest of the Royal Family standing in front of her.

He recognized the Elven maiden from his years mingling and touching the shoulders of the Elven Elites and catching glimpses and official ceremonial gazes of her back at the Capital. He never knew he would be able to see her face to face and eye to eye. Under normal circumstances, everyone in the room would have bowed down to honor her presence but now is not. The Elves began to whisper to each other in malicious slander over her circumstances, ranging from kidnapping, her 'corruption' and double agency.

"Guards!" the Ambassador alarmed.

Several of the Embassy's detachment of Elven Swordsmen emerged and drew their weapons.

"Please, milord. Ser Ambassador. I can explain everything about what had happened to me." Aliathra said.

"How can I trust you? Maybe you are just a shapeshifter Demon taking to place of our beloved Princess. Or perhaps you are indeed Princess Aliathra but you have been corrupted to betray your people, your family and your nation?" the Ambassador accused.

"There is no need to fight Ambassador. I can prove to you I am the real Aliathra if it means to reassure you." Aliathra pleaded.

The crowd took pause, mostly haughtily awaiting what proof this 'Aliathra' had to authenticate herself in front of them.

"You are Thalanil, Ambassador of Souviel for 50 years, you once gave my father a rare 100 years vintage Ho'op wine from this province on his 560th birthday. You danced with my sister on her 180th birthday There are at least 60 Ethulien spies within the Black Tree territories and Prince Clovich was our spy that helps us gather information about troop movements of the Slaegian Empire's eastern Legions." Aliathra said.

"Impressive, but that does not convince me still. Name one thing I have told you about." The Ambassador challenged.

"Not me, but my Father told me this." Aliathra grinned. "You actually hate your wife's singing your too afraid to tell her that and you collect other Animals Teeth for fun." She answered.

"The King actually told you that?" the Ambassador jumped out of his bodyguard's protective lines to walk towards the Princess confrontationally.

"Yes, I was there in the send-off party for newly appointed Ambassadors after my father announced that new Trading Policy about lifting some tariffs of our Wine and Bread." Aliathra said.

"You really are the Princess��� but… how? What happened?" the Ambassador asked.

All of the Elven onlookers stared at her in disbelief with their guards lowered, and their minds slowly being at ease as Ambassador Thelanil walked closer and tried to grab Aliathra's hand lightly…

The Elven Princess hopes grew upwards as she had prayed for…

"Don't touch her!" a voice erupted from the crowd.

"Ladui Eriande?" the Princess turned to her direction.

"That is impossible! The reports from the Sefydliad say that your heart was corrupted into metal." Eriande announced, pointing her sword at the Princess.

The whole party gasped in shock at the accusation. A Metal Heart? No one can create life from something without it. It was absolutely heretical and absurd to even think of something that Neneth handcrafted herself to make be made and copied from something that had no life.

"It may beat like one but its not a true living heart." Eriande added.

"I can explain Ladui Eriande. These people you call 'Demons', they saved me, they don't even have any Magic to begin with." Aliathra said.

"That is preposterous! How can they take down those land sharks so easily with their metal flying beasts, have only a single one of them defeat our very own Warriors with his bare hands and killed Sefydliad agents with their metal wands without much of the sweat in which all of that can be done without the help of extremely powerful magic? Not even the best baw-gúl can do all of that." Eriande argued.

"They don't need to; they have Technology to match even the greatest of our Sorceries." Aliathra answered.

"Technology?" Ambassador Thelanil asked.

"Let me explain what they told me… these You-Eff-eee people from this world called Earff… They can… use Technology too… eh… the ability… to create things to improve themselves in every aspect of one's lives… your sword, this house and our clothes is made from Technology." Aliathra explained.

"Another pathetically blatant lie! You state that this Otherworldly Magic that they call 'Technology' is based on pure craftsmanship? No amount of pure craftsmanship can outperform Elven Magic." Eriande haughtily refused to consider.

The Guards and some of the more martial of the Guests became even more tense, gripping their hands readying to unsheathe their weapons and spells soured the festive atmosphere. Aliathra was starting to crack under the pressure as she mustered whatever will she had left to appeal, to try and attempt to get through her people's fears of the unknown.

"Please, everyone. What I am saying is true." The princess begged.

"Princess? If you are truly her, how can you say all of that? Where is the Pride the most powerful and Arcane race in all of Gliesia? Didn't your mother and father taught you about how we were blessed by the Creator Gods to guide the world?" the Ambassador contended.

"They are not of our world! They wish to only live in peace. I… I…h-hate to confess this to all of you… it but they showed me… Technology… theirs… can do so many amazing things that not even magic can hope to achieve! My replacement heart and legs… they were made by them." Aliathra said.

Her noble High Elven accent cracked as tears fell on her cheeks and her voice became hoarse with grief as everything, her plan of a peaceful dialogue with her imprudent kin was falling apart. All going wrong in the worst possible way for her as her naïvete cracked under the pressure of the contemptuous scrutiny that Elves are known for when it comes to the lower races.

"What? They even replaced your legs?" the Ambassador asked, his face dumbstruck.

The Elven Princess sighed, she needed to tell her people of this now about what had happened to her.

"I lost my heart and legs due to some accidents I had before coming here, and they saved my life when they could have easily left me for dead. They save me by using their metal hearts and legs they created to make me whole again." She explained. "Please, you have to believe me."

The room fell quiet after they heard Aliathra's side of the story. For a moment, Aliathra thought she had finally managed get through with her kinsmen as they all brought themselves into the expression of deep thought, reserving their emotions back…

"No." Thelanil said.

"Pardon?" Aliathra asked.

"You hear me Demon? No." Thelanil frowned.

"What do you mean 'No'?" Aliathra asked.

"What you just said is blasphemy to both your fellow Elves and Neneth herself that you had vowed to serve. How dare you allow them, those… those THINGS do that to you! You just show that you have been corrupted beyond salvation." Thelanil cursed.

Aliathra felt her heart crash down to the depths of forlornness as if her heart was pierced with the cold blade of betrayal as the Embassy Guards closed to apprehend her.

"Nothing made by hand can compare to the flesh and blood gifted to us by Neneth! I am sorry Princess, no, Apostate, you are too far gone now. May Neneth purifies tryout soul when you pass on. Your family will understand." The Ambassador coldly proclaimed.

"CLEAR!" yelled Diaz as he threw his Flashbang into the middle of the room.

Breaking out of her tears, Aliathra realizing what is going to happen next, she quickly closed tear wet-eyes as the grenade illuminated the room in a blinding light. The other Elves in the room were discombobulated with them reflexively covering their eyes and flailing about mindlessly across the room. Sometimes hitting each other, the party preparations or valuable pieces of art.

Before the Ambassador and the rest of the party goers realized it, Diaz and the rest of his men swarmed into the room with their guns drawn out as the spread themselves across the party room making sure their eyes and weapons pointed unwaveringly towards the Elves. They were surrounded.

"Don't even flinch!" one of the Aparo Mercenaries shouted.

Just as Aliathra opened her eyes, she felt a strong force grab her. It was Diaz's Red Jacket.

"Stay behind me sweetie." Diaz smirked.

He was pointing Ruiner in front of the Ambassador while he stood between Aliathra and himself.

"No! Don't hurt him please." Aliathra pleaded to Diaz.

"Shh…" Vincent hushed her.

He then turned to address the Ambassador with his gun held high.

"Alright, Alie just say everything that we did to her yet still… you want to KILL her? Your even thicker than Eriande's thick butt over there." Diaz threw a flirty cheap shot at the Elf woman who was his rival in the Race.

"The Speed Demon? I should have known. You are her Patron, are you not?" Eriande accused.

"Patron? Her? No, it's actually the other way around. I am her Patron." He joked. "But I digress, less about the Princess and more of why she is here. I will say this once. We know… and you lost." Diaz said.

"Lost?" Thelanil asked… his voice trembled upon Diaz's words.

"Make a move on the Palace while a show is happening? Read that a mile away." Diaz said.

"Well… go kill us all. You surround us but I will not give you the satisfaction of me dying in agony." The Ambassador defiantly stood up.

"Oh, kill you no, me and Aliathra really think we come all this way to kill you? You Elves, despite saying you are really smart are actually pretty stupid. I would have killed you all and turned you into fish food before you could sing 'God Bless the King'." Diaz intimidated.

"Then why are you here?" the Ambassador asked.

"At first, I wanted this for my dear friend here Aliathra to just catch up with her friends here in this wonderful place you call an Embassy. Have a snack, drink some wine, chit chat with you guys. But unfortunately, it seems you are being the party pooper here. So, we have to do this the hard way as we like to call it." Diaz explained.

"Aliathra is just your way through here I presume? No one could ever break through our protective wards unless it is another Elf or an Elven Mage to break through it." The Ambassador asked.

"Correct." Diaz admitted.

"You are using the Princess to talk to us? Yet there is one thing I do not understand. Why are you here?" Thelanil pushed.

"I am just paid to do this. Rough up some people who think they can try to punch us around but should no better such as you haughty pieces of shit. I mean, we did it save her life for crying out loud, the Legs and the Heart, can't you see it that we don't want to be your enemy?" Diaz argued.

"You are being paid? Is it just about the money for you? All of you?" Eriande intervened.

"Not all the time, sometimes its about the Sex." Diaz winked. "Other times it is for the money. But other times its about all the sexy money. Which is why I am here to tell you that Souviel will become territory for the Aparo Corporation… which is really, really, big Merchant Guild for everyone here listening." Diaz said.

"Quit your lies Demon!" Eriande threateningly pointed her sword.

"Quit being such idiots. Aliathra is fine in every possible way. There's only two ways we can end this and I don't like where this one going at this rate." Diaz warned.

"You will not corrupt this land any further while I still stand." The Ambassador spat.

"Says the one who wants to have Jodent turn this whole place into a Debt-Slave camp masking as some Artsy Uptown." Diaz replied sarcastically.

"Ambassador… I read the letter. Is that… are all of that true?" Aliathra stood up and emerged from Diaz's back to confront Thelanil.

When she read the letter of the Ethuilen scheme to have Jodent bleed out every coffer of the Humans off of their Ducats to be given to the Empire and the Elves, she couldn't believe it, denying every aspect that her Nation, the Ethuilen Entente would be so venal and exploitative. She had always thought that the Entente was the leader of the Gliesia, the dominant nation who was given the Heavenly Decree to guide the younger races forward. Yet this plot of draining money off of the hands of the Humans contradicted everything she had believed.

"When you have a neighbor, who wants to usurp your father, Princess you need to be as tenacious as them." Thelanil argued but his cocky poise cowered as Diaz and Aliathra walked closely to him.

"My Father said that we must be better than our aberrant kin. That he said 'We must inspire the Younger Races forward, not force them to bend against their own individual wills.'" Aliathra pointed out.

"And you believe your Father on that one speech? Please, my dear, that is only just honeyed words when he addressed to those envoys when they visited the Capital that day." The Ambassador scoffed.

"No, that can't be. My father would never lie to me." Aliathra grieved.

"Oh, it is true Princess. Your father and mother may not be like the despotic Black Tree Pact but even then, we need to maintain our dominance over the other races through more, subtle means…" Thelanil coyly answered.

Diaz noticed that Aliathra's azure eyes began to tremble tears alongside her weakening knees collapsing on the revelation that her 'noble and benevolent' nation was anything but noble nor benevolent.

The rest of the Mercs became tense the more that Thelanil denounced them and Aliathra. Hearing that their most peaceful means of pacifying the situation had been miscarried before them. Their senses ringing, adrenaline pumping, their guns priming. This standoff was going to escalate into an unfruitful escalation of violence. Superfluous violence that Aliathra wailed to not see come true. Their guns sliced through the room, passing by all the possible threats close and far from them as the partygoers beamed at them with equally gawking contempt.

Diaz looked on at the Congregation with disgust. These Elves were willing to jaw this innocent little port city into eternal debt-servitude in the name of maintaining their grip on the world. He maybe a materialistic capitalist working for a larger materialistic capitalist, but they prefer to not milk their customers to bankruptcy. It was more productive that way. Solving problems is what they do. Not creating them.

Yet another concern for Diaz is everything that had happened to Aliathra up to this point. Her heart and legs were replaced were the least of her first wave of cultural shock. Then the next hit was her, a Cleric dedicated to a Healing Goddess realizing that yes, life can be created through none living things in the form of her said heart beating like any other. Her recent assignment as a 'Cultural Consultant' which is essentially, and she knows it too, glorified enslavement to the UFE was already harsh enough for her as it must have felt bad to be indirectly helping the people she conceived as 'Demons' beforehand. But now, true cold betrayal happened before her eyes. He could only imagine the anguishing thoughts the Elven Princess must be feeling right now. Her own people, being hypocrites to their own ideals of altruism, harmonic solidarity and enlightened prosperity under the Ethuilen vision. Yet they do the exact opposite of achieving said goals for the sake of gains and the maintenance of their influence. All at the cost of robbing the people of their pursuit of happiness must have stuck a deep and baleful wound on Aliathra's core beliefs as a Priestess of Neneth and as the Daughter of the Royal Family being raised all her life to believe such values. In his years of reading people's motives, emotions, goals and fears in the Cyberpunk Ecumenopolis of Kesserheim. Aliathra was dangerously reaching an emotional rock bottom.

For Diaz, seeing Aliathra in such a precarious position made the artificial blood and hormones within him fume to boiling hot temperatures. It wasn't about the 'Sexy Money' anymore on what he is planning to do next. The Elf, who in the United Federation's, Aparo Corporation's, Stryder Group's and his own eyes did nothing wrong and held altruistic beliefs of charity, wellness and compassion for all life be broken down by these avaricious, imperialistic, and amoral Politico's or in his ancestral tongue Buwaya. He concluded without a second thought, that Aliathra Lareththor is the true exemplar of the Ethuilen Vision and not the Ambassador and his Sefydliad cronies.

"Aliathra, please take of my jacket for me." Diaz asked.

"What? Why?" Aliathra sniffed fighting back the tears.

"I want to show them something." Diaz softly smiled before nodding at the Elf.

For Aliathra, she could sense the violent intent of Diaz when she noticed him cracking his fists during Ambassador Thelanil's confession of the corrupt practices the Sefydliad has been doing in Souviel. Although she never wanted to see violence being enacted in such sacred grounds, Diaz and even her own innate thoughts knew, that what will happen next is justified.

She carefully unsheathes Diaz's jacket, careful that the Corpo agent continues to aim his gun towards the Ambassador.

"What… are you?" one of the Elven party goers questioned when Aliathra finally revealed what Diaz hid behind his genteel jacket.

It revealed his entire augmented body. Covered from his neck down to his torso, in obsidian metal 'flesh' that detailed his muscles complete with corporate product placement courtesy of Aparo Corporation. Diaz then glow red as his cybernetic augmentations activated to life.

"Aliathra, Little Miss Princess Aliathra, she thought she can save the world as the little princess. She thought she can bring the world of Gliesia forward in with acts and preaches of love, kindness and generosity with the rest of her kind following suit. But now… look at you. Look at ALL of you. You are more 'Corrupt' than me, Aliathra and my friends here combined." Diaz spoke.

The Elves, in all of their pride recoiled in disgust at this hubristic Demon calling telling them who they truly are. Hypocrites.

"What do you know of morals? You are just a Demon Warrior doing what he is told to do." The Ambassador argued.

"What do you know of morals?" Diaz shot back. "For all I see, Aliathra would have died after saving that poor kid if it weren't for me." he said.

"You?" Aliathra said.

"My own money, I paid for your surgery… I … couldn't bear to see you go out like that… someone who so selfless yet… so young… we need more people in this world like you." Diaz confessed.

"You, saved a child?" one of the elves asked.

"I did, I rescued him but then one of the… bandits struck me with a Lightning spell. It was so powerful that it destroyed my heart. Yet now, here I am with a new heart, made of metal." Aliathra said.

"Ambassador? Maybe the Princess is indeed speaking the truth." That one elf appealed.

"No! He is lying to you. This…'Aliathra' is trying to lull you into her side!" the Ambassador said.

"Isn't healing to repair and make better of a body part?" Diaz asked, nudging his head to Aliathra.

The Princess nodded. The Doctors who had operated on her, Stryder Group and the kindly April and Dr. Lee Haneul did indeed hold her hand through all of this. When she questioned herself when she found out about her heart to time, they saved her from a life of crippling handicap, they were there to help her stand up again.

"Stop lying, you are just like them! The Demons! You are just the same like them." Eriande said.

"Demon? Again, with the 'Demon'! What the heck is your problem?" Diaz asked.

"All you live to do is corrupt, offend, destroy and deceive wherever you go." Eriande said.

"Ever since you first come forth here in our land you already disrupt the world order with your power and boons to those who bend the knee to you." The Ambassador said.

"Oh? Is that what you think?" Diaz twitched his eyebrow up. "I rebut that statement. Or more like, Aliathra should." He turned to his Elf friend.

He nudged quietly at Elven Princess who stood behind him by his right hand, urging her to assist him. Her words, (a presently disowned) Daughter of a King arguably drawing more weight than the foreigner. Swallowing her fear, she exhaled as she begins her account.

"Prince Clovich, you know him being our informant in Tyr Rian. We give him potions for his sister, Aria." Aliathra answered.

"And what does that have to do with them?" the Ambassador asked.

"As a sign of our good will, we offered Aria to be fully healed from being bed ridden for the rest of her life and made her walk again. Your Medicine, although effective in its own right was only a temporary cure, she will go back straight to sitting down all the while the rest of girls go to Galway now." Diaz added with his additional hint of snark.

"Enough of the lies! Your means of 'healing' is perverse!" the Ambassador angrily refused Diaz's consideration.

"Ambassador? How could you say that?" one of the Elven guests turned to the Ambassador.

"No one else, Man, Orc, Handyn can heal the crippled at birth. No amount of Restoration magics can accomplish such a grievous affliction." Thelanil gasconade.

"Oh. Now I know what you are playing." Diaz smiled.

Vincent couldn't honestly believe what this Elf was saying. Even the other Aparo Mercenaries would say the same for themselves too. He could barely contain his amusement at this Elf's hubris. In his years navigating and fighting his way through the anarchic streets of Kesserheim, this Thelanil's arrogance was the downfall of so many Corpos, Cyberpunks and any other myriad folks living in the Ecumenopolis. The way he spoke every little heinous word would be a death sentence for anyone pointing the gun towards when one finds themselves cornered by a trigger. The way, the Ambassador rebuff all of his and Aliathra's statements despite the latter allowing herself to be disadvantaged by the absence of her protection in the form of the Aparo Mercs was appalling at best, cartoonishly dumb at worst. Diaz knew from experience, just how to knock him down from his high horse.

"Superbia." Diaz said.

"Pardon, Demon?" the Ambassador agitated.

"It means Pride. You are so prideful, that you and you couldn't accept someone better than you. I have to admit. We are superior to you in some ways, yet you are also better than us in others too." Diaz said.

"What do you mean, WE are superior to than you Demons?" Thelanil asked, taken aback by the Otherworlder's words.

"Your good with Magic, superb actually, no denying that. I myself 'am, as you would say from my dear friend Clarke, a 'Mage'. Yet I am not as skilled is Aliathra here who was trained in the Arts of Healing and stuff, is that true?" Diaz turned to the Elven Princess.

Aliathra nodded in turn.

"Where are you going with this Demon?" asked the Ambassador.

"I believe, me, my Masters, you, your friends and Aliathra here got off. I rather leave this place unscathed yet kicked out for the trouble than succeed but made to shed your blood in this really nice house here. Splashes of Red everywhere doesn't go well with it." Diaz slowly moved away his pistol.

"I am going to order my friends to lower their weapons but you need to lower yours too." Diaz said.

"Vinny? What are you doing?" one of the Aparo Mercs says.

"Trust me on this! Lower it slowly in the Count of Three." Diaz grinned earnestly at the scrutinizer.

"Ha! The Demon wishes to Parlay! Surely you jest." Eriande pestered.

"I can kill everyone in this room faster than you can blink. But I have to clean up this mess all night and its way past my bed time. Count of Three!" Diaz fired back. "Don't make this End badly for you Sir."

"Three." The Corpo began the countdown.

The reputation of Demons, of being merciless, relentless and cunning monsters precedes the Embassy staff and the rest of the Elven guests. The legends of being few in numbers but superior in every way forcing the races of the Gliesia to unite against them. Many people of every race died in droves, martyring themselves so that the Tomorrow that is today could happen. The Guards and the Elves knows this all well for they recorded all of the battles, the sagas, the epics and songs that happened during the Great Demon War. Only through Caldell Slaegiac's unison of the scattered Human Tribes of Ysanigrad was what brought an end to the War. Now here on this day and hour, another great War looms in the horizon as the Ambassador came face to face with the Demon's of the Old Legends.

"Two."

Yet, he was deep down, afraid. If a Martyr dies, yet nobody is there to know it. Is he truly a Martyr? This, 'Dee-Yaz' character boasts he can end them all in snap of his fingers and none of his superiors back home would realize it. He knew everyone of his staff that he had worked with in the Embassy. Alongside the Guests, they had families and livelihoods to return too after all is said in done. They would be devastated if such cantankerousness became their undoing. This Demon has been, he had to admit, was surprisingly generous in his offers of parlay. He could sense it all within them. The way the Demon and his ebony armored followers with their black rods flutter as much as the way his own Embassy Guards tensed along the tune of the guests. Many of them would rather get out of this alive above all else. The answer was now clear.

"One." Diaz finished.

He lowered his gun, placing it softly back at its holster as he gestured the rest of his men to lower the holster down their rifles too.

Followings suit, much to Diaz's and Aliathra's delight, the Ambassador himself gestured his men to lower their arms too.

"Ambassador?" Ladui Eriande eyes swell at the downturn.

"Be quiet or this will become pointless." the Ambassador interjected.

"Good. Good." Diaz sighed as he raised his hands up.

"I wish not to harm you or anyone here. If it makes you feel better. I will let all of your guests leave this room right now. The Staff has to stay though." Diaz said.

The Ambassador nodded and his eyes darted towards every Elven Guest in the room. One by one, they all left the room quietly, leaving the Ambassador, Ladui Eriande and around 9 more Elves inside the room.

"Wonderful. Wonderful. Very Wonderful." Diaz smiled. "We are getting somewhere now? If so, let me ask something to Aliathra." Diaz turned to the Princess. "If I am a guest in this Elven place, what do I expect for any… Hospitalities?" he asked.

"Offered a drink. A sweet Suìlad mead." Aliathra said.

"May I have any if you still have any?" Diaz asked.

The Ambassador gestured one of his servants who quickly poured on a silver gleaming chalice before passing the drink to Diaz.

Vincent promptly tasted the wine for a full minute savoring its tastes. He took care to keep his hands up in his earnest form of conciliatory courtesy. The senses on tastes buds rose into excitement as the drink bathed his tongue. Upon swallowing the wine, the liquid brushes down through his throat, rehydrating his body and putting his mind at ease. It was indeed a great giveaway to receive when welcomed in.

"Delicious. Very much Ambassador." Diaz smiled.

"I want to inform you that I we are speaking as two nations in one room together. Like the Vermillion Rock Concordant of Old and I demand the respect of that." Thelanil changed his condescending accent into his typical Elven Diplomat's.

His tense stance, relaxed to a stoic yet magisterial aura.

"Understand I am not taking your word for it just yet. Until we come into terms with ourselves then I trust this… Vermillion Rock… Aliathra?" Diaz asked.

"The Old Alliance between Men, Elves, Orcs and Beastfolks… or in my tongue the Handyn. The fought against Alboen together." Aliathra explained.

Diaz nodded in affirmation to the Elf's information. It was an interesting historical tidbit within the context of Gliesian geo-politics.

"Understand this of what I understand you. From the reports I heard from Ladui Eriande, several of my Spies and even the loose chatter of the town, that I know you and your kind are very skilled in the ways of violence. How you slew that Bandit Lord in Tyr Rian, how you slew the Eastern Legionnaire garrisons near the Deserts, and how you annihilated those obsequious Bulletes here in Souviel." The Ambassador said.

"It is true, where we come from, Peace is just a lack of conflict." Diaz answered.

"You are all born Warriors, born from a harsh land I see. Yet, to my own admission, you showed surprising restraint coming here to my Embassy so boldly. I wish to thank you that you and all of your men accompanying you that blood is shed." Thelanil gratuitously acknowledged.

"We would be no better than animals if that is the case." Diaz nodded. "You are quite well informed about our exploits."

"Indeed. Ever since you eliminated all of the Sefydliad that I had overseen their passing from the Docks all the way to Vercourt, it was only a matter of time before your masters sent someone to find me. Please, have a seat." The Ambassador gestured to a couple of the Nouveau art chairs in the room.

"I am not here for a Social Visit Ambassador; I am here because I have questions for you and it's ABOUT the Sefydliad." Diaz said.

Thelanil sighed and turned around behind him. Before him is the Ethuilen Elves's Royal Crest.

"Our Mandate, is the continuation the True Elven Sphere's domination across all of the known world. Create the opening of dialogue, discussion of said Dialogue and above all, the protection of all Ethuilen interests around Gliesia." The Ambassador explained. "We are a cordial Organization." he added.

"Then this should be easy, answer my questions and you can forget I was ever here." Diaz pushed.

"I am no Gwarlammen. Knowing you, once and if I ever do tell you what you ask to know, you will just use it against us." Thelanil declined. "Make no mistake, you have their eyes, the Black Tree Pact's. I will not make the mistake King Círdan, Aliathra's grandfather had made. My people and I WILL resist you."

"Who?" Diaz asked.

"The Black Tree Pact, our kin who abandoned my kingdom and have become the Entente's rivals." Aliathra briefly explained.

"I thought you're just a Diplomat?" Diaz asked.

"Diplomats are not just lofty desk clerks who sign papers and smiles to everyone all day. We carry knives in our backs when words fail to evoke the tides we wish to sail upon. Like the thorns of the beautiful Rhosyn. Our interests above all else must see fruition." Thelanil established. "That is why your masters wish to see me eliminated from the picture. Our interests conflict." The Ambassador defended his dutiful statement.

"All I want is some answers. If I wanted to just extract it out of it from you violently, everyone else would be dead in this room right now, you and the guests you wisely sent away. I will ensure you that if you tell me everything honestly about what I will ask you now and you will be treated fairly by my masters… eh…'protection'." Diaz said.

If he could turn around this Ambassador into someone much more cooperative, then oh so the better for everything can it be? Thanks to Diaz's cybernetic eye, he can read the Elf's body movements, signals and beats like a book. He is patriotic, he can admire him for that thanks to his dutifulness as a Diplomat and as a director for Sefydliad operations. Yet beneath that, the Elf conceals the fatal flaw of all Elves, their Pride. And judging by the way he and Aliathra poised themselves, it had cracked. He knew deep down that the Otherworlder's possess power that his country could not compare in prowess to and he was raised just like Aliathra herself, that Elves were and are meant to be dominant. The Elf's resolve is slipping, desperate to cling on to his pride as he maintained the façade of High Elven braggadocio.

"Do not speak to me of honesty and fairness not when your masters live on their high towers, seducing, coercing and manipulating all that is around them without the courage to proclaim their full intentions for them to the rest of the world. To all of Gliesia." Thelanil argued.

"Oh, it's not like you are any different Mister Ambassador. Didn't you just say the same thing yourself with your 'Masters'?" Diaz turned the question around. "Oh, my country Country speaks of prosperity and peace from muh 'high towers'." He mocked. "But when I have you cornered; you are just likely to shit it all the way." Diaz ended with a refute

"The Otherworlder speaks the truth. You are a hypocrite Ambassador. The Sefydliad are all hypocrites." Aliathra commented.

"No! Let me… let me… I can… I can explain." the Ambassador cracked, just as Diaz hoped.

He can see the Elf's eyes contract his irises widely at the piercing assault of his own words being used against him.

"The Younger Races, Human, Dwarf, Handyn, even Orcs are still in their cerebral infancy. Only us Ethuilen Elves, have the strength, the insight and the ascendancy to see through the children remain safe from those who would see to their harm and danger." Thelanil rephrased.

"Children? You always call them all like if they were 'children'." Diaz waived. "Are you trying to lecture me about Parenthood? Because that's how I am hearing it."

"Paternal-like Diplomacy. That is what we do. If the 'children' deviate to a path that will not end well for them, we intervene." Thelanil added.

"You, know we get the same looks too. You and I." Diaz grinned. "My masters want best for Tyr Rian. They had banditry, bad harvests, squalor and all other sorts of nasties. I suppose you do that to help too when you can? So, I ask you, why fight us when our goals align? From what you are doing, you are already making things worse. My masters are already hawking to see the whole continent burning fo every time you try to thwart our next moves. People are dying for a cause that shouldn't be here in the first place."

The Ambassador nodded.

"Ambassador? Do not tell me you are actually agreeing with him?" Eriande frowned.

"I said silence." He brushed her off. "I agree, it pains me to see my people died. Most of them were people I had known in the Academy. We have been trying every day, to think of something, anything finds a way to stem the tide you introduced. But so far, nothing. Just failure and more of my people dying."

"Then tell me this question. Where are the rest of the Sefydliad or at least the ones you know of? Since you are one of them you can tell them that war with us will only end badly for you in the long run. Tell your King, tell the Slaegian Emperor, tell everyone you can that war with me and my masters will be a mistake." Diaz requested. "If I return to my masters without anything to show for it, they will either tell me to use violence anyways or send someone else who isn't as…'polite' as me."

"And I can see myself on those sides too, 'Cythraul'." He remarked. "But understand this, when I do this task for you, understand that you will be not just responsible for my renouncement of the Entente's Interests and the Slaegian's sovereignty. But also, the collapse of the Ethuilen Hegemony and the disruption of Gliesia's equilibrium."

"His point remains Ambassador, please for my family, for our people, do the right thing. He is giving you a choice." Aliathra pleaded.

"Choose to fold now with only dishonor as your only forfeit, or choose to see Ethuilen, Haringpoint, and Souviel, plus all the work you and your colleagues did be gone in a poof?" Diaz proposed, pooping his mouth to resonate 'poof' in his sentence.

"I…I will not stay idle while more people die pointlessly. You offered me a choice to trust you… open a discourse between you and my Superiors and our allies. I will…" the Ambassador said.

"That is Treason Ambassador! Treason!" Eriande wailed.

"Calm down! We can settle this another day!" Thelanil said.

"Demon? What did you do to the Ambassador? You corrupted him, don't you?" Eriande accused Diaz.

"No! It's called being a rational individual, you thick girl." Diaz denied.

"I will not stand idly while these Demons make of mockery of us! Die!" Eriande roared.

The Elven Knight lady conjured her hands encompassing magical energy into her hand as she primed herself to unleash it.

"Ladui Eriande! No!" Aliathra dashed pass Diaz to attempt to restrain the Elven Knight's foolhardy acrimony.

Yet Eriande was too impassioned in her blinding rage to see reason. She unleashed from her hands a singing wave of fire bursting from her hands. Aliathra, still blinded herself in naïve idealism of peace couldn't react fast enough to reflexively close to blink as the burning embers met her azure irises. The Elf screamed as she recoiled back covering her broiled eyes in pain.

"Ladui Eriande seize this foolishness at once!" the Ambassador tried to grab the knight.

"I will SEIZE, your Treachery!" the Rainbow Helm rallied herself.

She raised her sword and cut down Thelanil, killing the Ambassador instantly.

The Elven Princess wanted to cry, not in pain, but of dolorous grief over her people's steadfast ignorance. Yet she couldn't, the burnt flesh on her eyelids infused itself to her eye's delicate expanse causing her to cry but never shed a tear.

At the same time, the burning particles of magic found their way around the spreading to all sorts of surfaces made of flesh, fabric or hardware alike. The more combustible materials like the dry carpets and curtains ignited.

"Fire!" one of the Elven embassy staff alarmed.

"Shit! Someone gets 'ome water quick." An Aparo Mercenary ordered.

"Shit! There's some on me!" Diaz screamed as he found his body erupting at several places with embers smoldering such as his left arm and the pair of pants he is currently wearing. Despite his augmentations and cybernetics being fire-resistant or straight up fireproof, his head is still vulnerable to getting burnt alongside the fact that he still has the instincts of avoiding having himself be lit on fire.

Everyone in the room panic as people struggled to keep the growing flames from turning into an engulfing inferno. Some tried to choke the fire out by dumping heavy objects unto the flames whilst others used the water or whatever liquids they can throw to douse the flames.

For Eriande, it was the diversion she needs, looking down on the Traitor Princess trying to heal herself from the pain of her eyes being charred. Seething with self-righteous fury she pointed her sword at Aliathra.

"You will die here and now Demon!" the Rainbow Helm avouched.

"Why didn't you listen to us?" Aliathra asked her.

"You are not the Princess! Rainbow Helms only take orders from the Royal Court!" Eriande spat.

This time, she will have the glory of slaying this corrupted being in the shape of her beloved Princess with her own hands. Raising her sword overhand, she charged forth ready to cut down Aliathra in half with one mighty smite.

If Aliathra had failed in trying to get her people to be convinced about the non-violent ways of the United Federation from the start, she would have allowed herself to be swallowed by her despair and be frozen still as she let the Knight plunger her blade at her heart. Crush by the boot of her people's finest would be both a dishonorable way to die but the most befitting for one who allowed herself to be consumed by the Otherworlder's blasphemous devices. Yet, when Diaz came in and almost persuade the Ambassador to rethink his hostilities, she was renewed with a sense of hope. A Hope for peace. A Hope that she can still have a home to return to. A Hope that life can still live on in harmony as Neneth or whatever omniscient being created all of Creation. This hope renewed the same fire she had when she first left the lofty towers of Ethuilen into the adventure she found herself into. The aspiration of being something more than just the youngest child of the Elven Royal Family. She is to become the bridge between Gliesia and the Otherworld above. She will fight to not die today.

Pulling out her Ranger's Danger from its small sheath. Aliathra, listening to the battle cries of Eriande, began to wildly slash the at the Rainbow Helm's perceived direction. Without her sight she was like a fish out of water, trying to flop itself blindly back to the water.

In her panicked slashes, Aliathra shuffled herself backwards, knocking over several of the valuable party or office décor the Embassy had in display. At a glance, the Elf's wild cuts were similar to two kinds of things: a storm for its sheer unpredictability, and a Hostel where you can go in but will never come out. In her blind sauntering, she felt her back hit a solid wall, stopping her in place.

"Stay back! Stay back!" Aliathra warned with her stormy carving meeting nothing bu

"Aliathra! Relax! It's over."

The Elf could hear Diaz's reassuring voice as it move towards her.

"Ser… Vincent… Vincent… I… I can't see." Aliathra told him as she grasped the Otherworlder's body.

"It's okay, it's okay." Diaz comforted her. "It's over." Diaz said.

"Vinny! Fire is out. We're safe." One of the Aparo Mercs says.

"Good…" Diaz sighed in relief.

He turned around and was left appalled at the chaos that had entailed thanks to one Elf's blind rage. Several priceless pieces of nouveau art were destroyed or damaged with an ugly char burn and the Ambassador's lifeless body laying on the floor.

"I… tried…to… stop… her…" Aliathra snorted, her ability to shed tears hampered by her stinging burns.

"It's okay, you tried. You tried to. That's what matters." He reassured her.

He gently pushed her away to see the resulting damage of Aliathra's eyes. To say it reminded him of her old flesh heart back in Kesserheim would be a traumatizing statement, to say the least. He couldn't tell where the eye begins when the fused flesh united together. Her Azure eyes, forever taken away cruelly by the hands of benighted patriots. There was also freshly spilled blood on the Elf's cheek.

With his thumb, Diaz slowly rubbed it off.

"Is something on me?" Aliathra asked.

Diaz remained silence. He knew where the freshly spilled blood came from and it was definitely not hers.

"I smell it… on your hand. Blood… am I bleeding?" Aliathra asked.

Again, Diaz remained silence, not daring to tell her of what she had just did.

"No… No… I am… I am… a… Neneth… No… No… I …. I… I… am… Eriande… I am… so… sorry." Aliathra realize.

Aliathra couldn't bother to heal the smoldering burns on her eyes. Her visioned not only darkened but her own self as well. Without herself at optimum focus, she was paralyzed and left emotionaly broken.

Neneth, her teachings abhor most forms of murder. Teaching a non-confrontational way of life that valued the utilitarian ideal that all life within Creation deserves to live in systematic harmony with one another. Eriande, the Rainbow Helm was one of the most decorated soldiers of the Ethuilen Nation outside of her competitive spirit in Horse Racing. She was the ideal soldier in regards to her duty, bravery and loyalty. She couldn't blame her for her consistent rebuttal yet only if she knew what Aliathra had seen what they UFE were capable of. Her oath to protect the True Kingdom of the Elves would flow alongside Aliathra's ideals that Gliesia and the Earthlings could leave in peace. But now, she lay dead, her soul forever vengeful of the 'betrayal' Aliathra inflicted upon her kingdom now bared witnessed by dozens of her peers. The thought of seeing her dead body at that moment, spasming for breath as the rod pierced her throat with her unsettling green eyes rattling to death sickened her.

There was the point of no return for her. She did not only commit a great schism, but she had just committed a Royal Offense with the Rainbow Helm's murder.

Aliathra wanted to cry, but couldn't shed a tear. All she could discharge was hoggish snorts, rasping puffs and mournful wails with her nose and mouth as she tightened her embrace with Diaz, the only person who guided her hand through her journey. For all intents and circumstances, Aliathra could no longer call herself a Princess of Ethuilen no longer. All she is now is…

"I am a Monster." Aliathra sobbed.

"No, you are not. Look at you. Look at you! Deep down, it took guts for you to be here now." Diaz said.

"I am a Monster." She repeated.

"Don't say that." Diaz repeated again.

"I am a Monster, just like you." Aliathra wailed louder.

All that Diaz could do now for her was to hold her tightly. He rocked the Elf softly as the Elf's sorrow. The more he sways as he cradled her body, the quieter the Elven Princess' agony felt. He maybe mostly machine and wires, but he still had empathy encoded within his heart. He could only imagine what kind of vicious thoughts are now besieging Aliathra's head right now as she was lulled to sleep.

"Sleep now, dear Princess. It was all just a dream…" the Corpo quietly lay Aliathra on a chair allowing the Elven Maiden to be taken away from this horrid nightmare.

After laying the persecuted and mentally damaged Elf on the chair, Diaz turned to the beleaguered Embassy staff who shuddered at the sight of the Otherworlders. Their fanciful clothes not stained with sweat, ash and splotches of unknown matter.

"You, Who among you is willing to send a message for me?" Diaz asked them.

One of the staff, a frail clerk raised his hand.

"Here is the Federation's message. Tell your kings, tell your lords, tell your armies that all we ask is for you to come to speak to us in peace at Tyr Rian. We will be waiting. Fight us and you will only lose. We may not want war, but we will finish it." Diaz said. Every sentence he finished he thrust his finger forward pointing to the clerk.

The Elf Clerk nodded.

"Get.Out." Diaz ordered. His voice dripping with displeasure.

The Mercs behind him looked at the surviving Elven Embassy staff members, their guns still holstered but still ready to intervene violently. With no cards left to play, the Elves silently left the room. Descending down to the streets of Souviel alone and away to wherever the closest sanctuary their kind in Ysanigrad could be. Their memories forever imprinted with what happened that night and never forgetting the Corpo's ultimatum: Parley or War

-----------------

Meanwhile, as the night reached its darkest point before the rising of the dawn, Gresgi Jodent can be found at his Estate. He had slammed the desk of his office denting its wooden surface and causing several loose coins of Ducats to jump slightly upwards before falling back down. He couldn't believe the words of the last Sefydliad said. When he first arrived at his home, his clothes were tattered with dirt, wear and tear-soaked with sweat and feet threatening to crumble into collapse. At first, Jodent thought that his Coup plot needed more reinforcements from more of his private guards whom he kept a few dozen of in reserve, or perhaps he was such in a rush to inform him to now set forth to the Palace as planned when the Adventurers have finished clearing the building. But it was neither, for it was the results he did not want.

Marxian's role in the plot was to ensure the guards were supplied sufficiently with the coin to amply compensate the Grey Order Adventurer's down payment before he personally, oversees the breaching the perimeter of the Palace. After that, he is to return to the Jodent Estate and report to the Chief Tax Collector of what happened before being sent off to Haringpoint where he will rendezvous with the rest of his colleagues in Haringpoint.

"The coup has failed; the demons ambushed and slaughtered all the adventurers and your men at the palace." Marxian dejectedly said.

Jodent turned pale upon his ears listening to the Elf's words. All of their hirelings from the Grey Order perished by the hands of Demons. Their endeavors evaporated before him.

"You…We… We need to leave." Jodent stuttered. His hands shuddered as he reached into a drawer behind his desk. It was key. "Several of the people I hired have a letter that indicates me and your Ambassador in this plot. Have you told Ambassador Thelanil about this?"

"I sent away a Tweeter Bird right after I witnessed the Adventurer's getting massacred," Marxian answered.

"Why not send one to me too. Why run all the way here?"

"Forgive me, I was in hurry to your Estate for I saw the Guards and more of the Otherworlder's doubling their patrols so I was forced to flee less I risk capture." Marxian defended himself. "Besides you agreed to extract me out of this Duchy regardless of success."

"I take your point for this one Elf." Jodent placed his hand on his face.

His decrepit heart raced as anxiety and fear of being forced to answer for himself before the Duke that he had spent decades earning and maintaining his trust would entail. A punishment for treachery was a long torturous death and the complete seizure of all of his possessions and property. Just like the Elven Spy, he too needs to escape.

"I know. It looks like our hopes must lie on that 'Chosen One' now." Marxian said.

"Chosen Ones." Jodent emphasizes on the plurality. "What is your opinion about what happened in the Cathedral?"

"For me, I am not someone who leaves everything to fate. But then again, I see the wee lad as a tool. A very powerful tool." Marxian gave his comments.

"Faithleann is his name? Then there's also two more of them. So far there's a search for the missing ones. The Emperor is probably investing heavily in this one boy. I just hope he will succeed where many of us failed." Jodent assesses.

"Well, my reports here will be of some use to the Chosen One. His powers and the symbolism his brand gave would rally many of the people to his cause. We will need to raise an army and we need to raise it fast. We can count on several of the Dwarven Clans to assists us in material and people whilst the Grey Order can help us with a whole assortment of talents." Jodent added.

"Do not forget the College of Magi in Haringpoint and also my homeland's equivalent, the Arcaneum and its Academy for anything related to Magic," Marxian said.

"Indeed, they may have one this battle but this only the beginning. Take one of my horses and gallop out of here." Jodent stood up and gestured Marxian to the door.

"What about you Jodent?" Marxian asked. "The Chief… no former Chief Tax Collector?" he condescended.

"Go on ahead. I need to collect my belongings before I depart. I will meet you in Haringpoint to discuss what we can do next." Jodent says.

He remained confident that he can still return to Souviel sooner than later. He has several supporters and henchmen whom he knows will likely have to lay low for a while after the failure of the Coup. As Gresgi salvages what he can from this setback, he will appeal to the Emperor to recognize that the Current Duke, Thibault is illegitimate and accept the Jodent family name of claiming the Dukedom of Souviel. He was always propping the Tax Revenue files to indicate that Souviel was a very prosperous region even though the acquisition of said revenue is less than wholesome. With Imperial Support he can return to Souviel and seize the region for himself and no longer stand idle at the sidelines under Thibault's shadow.

But right now, he needs to salvage as much of his resources as he can, money, titles, and henchmen to do his bidding.

He held onto his key and descended down a flight of stairs.

One of the perks of being a Banker is that you can afford your Estate to be turned into a small fortress with locked doors, patrolling guards and vigilant watchtowers. Another perk is that he can legally safe keep a large sum of treasury tied to his bank under his home. The crooked tax collector knows all well that an impoverished nobleman is as potent as desert farmland, which is none at all. The Duke will likely seize all of his banks collected treasury as by the law and now Gresgi must work to rescue as much as he could carry before departing.

"All of you! Get as much money into that carriage immediately!" he ordered.

His servants toiled at the Ducats scattered throughout the treasury room, being able to fill chests after chests of Ducats. Jodent meanwhile heads down to the accounting room of the underground treasury and used his key to unlock a chest within it. It contained not only Ducats of the more, larger denominations but several deeds and titles personal to him like his Estates, the Land being occupied where his bank is and also a Balance Book which indicates all of his allies and dealings within his long career in Souviel.

But as Jodent frantically packed all of the Chests' contents into his money sack. A loud explosion could be heard from above him that shook the ground below, stunning everyone for one moment.

"What was that?" one of the servants asked.

For that moment, nobody knows what had happened up above them. But then one of the Estate Guards descended downstairs, his sword drawn and his helmet missing.

"We are under attack!" the guard said.

"They are here! Get out there and hold them off!" Jodent ordered.

"But sir! They are slaughtering us! We need to flee now!" the guard argued.

"Not without the Ducats! That is an order!" he yelled as he returned to gathering his gold.

The guard, not wanting to argue at such a dire time like this, returned upstairs to hold of the intruders as Jodent continued rescuing as much of his wealth as possible.

By the time he cleared the contents of the chest, his sack was as rotund as his stout self and cumbersome as that he could barely lift the sack all by himself. He struggled to reach back to the underground carriage room. But just as he was about to reach the glimpse of hope that is the large door, several of his guards burst out of the door, pushing away its wooden frames before immediately turning around and barricading it with their bodies.

"Milord! They reached the Carriage! It is not safe." One of the Guards warned.

"But my Ducats is there!" Jodent argued.

"I told you, it is not safe behind there!" the guard repeated.

The door the guards obstructed began to shake violently, unbalancing the guards who jostled to remain in their forestalling position. Gresgi had to swallow his loss now, the Ducats in the Carriage room were lost.

"The Stables! There should be a horse there. Follow me." one of the guards told Jodent.

Escorting the nobleman out of the few still unpenetrated areas of the underground left, the two emerged in the surface where the greeting of thunderous explosions and the cacophonic madness of a battle ensued. A fire occurred at his home and he could see the bodies of several of his servants and guards laying on the street. These Demons, and their Eldritch powers, they had overrun his home like a plague spreading from its origin of Tyr Rian and now expanding its tentacles into Souviel herself. His home and the Pearl of the Draguitoise Coast has fallen.

Jodent could also see, through the darkness of the night, four of what he can only construe as oddly shaped but great-sized birds whose wings beat like the sound of charging warhorses. On their noses, he could see orbs of light whose rays descended down to the ground like the gaze of Lehsol's morning light. To him, these giant birds reminded him of fireflies and sprites that seasonally come out during the spring and summer seasons at the more temperamental or magically more attuned areas of Ysanigrad. Beaming down to the ground before in its blinding luminousness, looked upon Jodent and his escorting Guard.

"Hold Still!" the giant bird spoke.

"Hurry to the Stables Master!" the Estate Guard pushed him.

Staggering forward with the weight of his most prized possession at hand, Jodent ran across the yard of his estate onto the inviolable shed of the Stables. His confidence arose when he could still hear the neighing of horses still confined within its walls.

Entering the Stables quickly, the Guard readied the closest horse that they first came across when they searched the pens. It was a venerable yet agitated white horse whose breed was to be a beast of burden for whatever arduous work its master wants it to do. Normally it would work quietly as it told, but the sounds of thunders and the screams of rapacious strife made it restless.

"Get that Horse ready so I can flee," Jodent ordered.

The guard took time to comfort the horse with a few careful head pats. Yet for the Nobleman it took many of his precious time and judging by the way the giant bird had spotted them. The demons are descending upon his position as he sees the horse finally revert back to a more amenable state. The Estate Guard guided the horse away from its pen and into the saddling area of the Stables.

"Quickly." The guard instructed.

He grabbed a nearby saddle and fitted it on the horse's back. Yet Jodent was such in a hurry to hop onto his horse that he got in between its back whilst carrying the hefty carryall of his possessions. Thanks to the way Jodent disrupted the rushed Estate guard's flow of fastening the saddle properly onto the steed, he wasn't able to fully secure its grip between the beast and apparel.

"You two! Get down on the ground!" a voice yelled.

The doors of the Stables opened to reveal over a dozen shadows appear before him with the same light emitting from the giant birds hovering above the exposed door, revealing and catching Jodent and the lone Estate Guard in their attempt to escape.

"To Haringpoint with you!" the Guard yelled to the horse as it slapped its flank causing Jodent to launch forward abruptly towards the Stable door where the Demons stood before him.

A couple of the Demons, seeing the horse wildly charging forward to them, dodged away allowing the former Chief Tax Collector to escape to the open gate leading north out of his now conquered Estate and North out of Souviel.

"Die you De----" the Guard raised his sword to prepare one final stand but the Demon's magical bolts from their black rods pierced his body before he can even lunge out for a charge.

The initial path north of his estate with eclipsing hills and feathery vineyards that Jodent's horse could easily pass through surreptitiously much to the former Chief Tax Collector's coy idea. It was a perfect screen for his escape with the darkest part of the night masking him further with the late-night clouds blinding Mayari in its stygian folds.

He could hear the raping of his estate from the distance behind him, but as he progresses through the shrubbery and shadowy hillsides of Northern Souviel, its despoiled cries abated more and more for every hoof before ultimately, the sweet hymn of the night's silence was all the ambient sounds Jodent could hear.

In his head, he vowed that he will return to Souviel one day and exact his vengeance! For now, he needs to get himself to Haringpoint as soon as possible and make his case to the Emperor himself of the complications in his previous appointment, preventing him and the empire from extracting its due on the Pearl of the Draguitoise Coast. Knowing war needed not only money but supply, the Empire will gladly push for his reappointment not as a desk-bounded Chief Tax Collector but as the Duke of Souviel himself. Carrying the last of his possession on his sack tightly, Jodent fled through the Souviel open wilderness. The crooked nobleman smiled as his steed advanced at every pace. The rhythmic crackle of the last vestiges of his ill-gotten gains disturbing the peaceful night's path. There was nobody who would be up scouring about at this hour, let alone at such an occasion back at the city during the Chwartiadd. It was all him, his steed, his money and the strengthening sea breeze from the Draguitoise Coast that aided him forward.

He could even feel Lehsol's day-breaking light shine closer to him as he made his sunrise escape…

"Gresgi Jodent! You are under arrest by other of the United Federation and the Duchy of Souviel!" a voice echoed behind him.

His heartbeat raced upwards while his wooly hairs straightened with cold sweat as he pried his eyes back. However, he saw nothing, just the sunrise starting to illuminate the skies with its apricot glow.

He sighed as he turned forward to return his eyes to the path. Perhaps it was just his anxiety getting the better of him in a moment of weakness…

"Freeze!" the giant metal birds that swarmed his Estate asserted.

The monster hovered in front of him, its great body blocking his pack and its radiant gaze, oh its radiant gaze that he could never forget blinded him and his steed.

His steed recoiled backward, stricken with overwhelming shock. In addition to the imbalance of posture, Jodent's saddle, thanks to its earlier improper fastening loosened, allowing Jodent, his heavy sack of Ducats and the horse to fall crashing down to the hard ground respectively.

The soft and bloated body of Jodent's overweight, desk-adjusted body was too unfit and unpracticed to hold its form against the crashing of his wealth onto his person. The burdensome tote crushed his weak and malnourished bones, most especially his ribcage. Its splintering causing his internal organs to rupture violently. Years of unhealthy life choices such as meat and wine with no desire to lift his foot off of his office, simply using the power of his money to enforce his will on the destitute denizens of Souviel now coming him to take its due. The contents were also loosened its tie on the bag causing a considerable amount of mammon to smother the Tax Collector in his own hubristic greed.

If the money poetically killing him wasn't harsh enough, the horse he road upon, an expensive crossbreed of Elven Gh'da and Ysanigradic Purebreds fell on him, adding its weight onto his crushed body, further disintegrating him into a pile of his own blood, bile and bones.

Jodent faded away as the very thing he wanted to desire to collect at all costs the most became his downfall. Dying with a whimper in a lonesome dirt road with his home, riches, status, and name to be forever dashed away from history.

Just as the Tax Collector expired, his pursuers, the otherworldly figures descended onto his body like vultures. They quickly shot down the bewildered horse for their own safety as the beast wildly flailed its legs at anything it sensed coming closer to him. They examined the body and its material damage it came with a sense of disappointment

"Spearhead, this is Stryder Lead, the HVT is dead." A man walked up to Jodent's corpse said. His arms were protruding metal appendages above his limbs like a spider's claws. Compared to his fellows his black rod was the most intimidating of sizes.

He listened to his little device attached to his ear earnestly. His voice sowing a breath of hesitant displeasure.

"There's a bag and a horse here. Filled with papers, ducks and a book… accounting I believe." The man said.

Another moment passed with the voice in his ear.

"Affirmative Spearhead, sending coordinates for the Military Police as we speak." The man nodded. "Yes, I think the Duke would need to see this." He added.

"Hey! Crocker, the suns up! Iris, you got your sunblock?" a dark-skinned Otherworlder, similar in shade to the night earlier informed the attendant Otherworlder. He was followed by a pale-skinned woman with runic tattoos on her face who was frantically slathering her exposed skin with a potion.

The Otherworlders turned around to watch the sun-star Lehsol rise above the hills of Souviel, glinting the land in its golden rays as a new day had started.

"Mark my words squad, this is only the beginning…" the Otherworlder asseverate.

---------------------

The new morning was met with blessed reverence and equal amounts of observance for Faithleann Garmhaic, the Chosen One deemed 'Gweninejar', the Anathema. He was dressed in adornments such as a Blue and Silver ceremonial armor adorned with the Empire's symbolic being, a Greater Dragon holding a the sword Cân Rhyfel on its right paw symbolizing the Empire's united order brought by Caldell Slaegiac's masterful confederation of the Human Tribes of Ysanigrad, upon his left paw is a cornucopia filled with bountiful harvests symbolizing the continent's age of prosperity brought by the said confederation into the Empire it is today. Such an armor being worn by Faithleann can only be worthy for the venerable Marchog, the Knightly Lords of the Empire, high-status warriors known for their skill, minute ability to independently lead brigades of men to their banners for their campaigns and also for their prized valor in the face of incredible odds. The way he was abruptly awakened from the College of Magi and rushed from its scholarly halls to the Imperial Palace and the way his opulent plates presented themselves, he could deduce, that indeed, in that moment and at that hour, he will be Knighted by none other than Emperor Uldin himself alongside the even more so esteemed than the Knights, the Cadfridogion y Lleng, the Slaegian Empire's Legionary Generals. To think, days ago, he was just a lonesome lad from the countryside looking for his place in the world and now his destiny has been thrust to him by blessings and the act of the Gods. He now sees himself on his lifetime goal being achieved sooner. A poem, a record in his name in the great books of heroes that his mother and teachers read to him. Not just a Hero but a hero only subpar to the Founder-Hero Caldell Slaegiac himself.

The trumpets blared signaling the beginning of the Knighting Ceremony as Faithleann was led to the great door separating him and the Imperial Throne room.

"Stand upright and proud Chosen one! You are about to be a Marchog of the Empire. So act like one!" An attendant instructed.

So did Faithleann proudly taut his chest up, the Armor's breastplate facing forward like a vanguard through the matching colors of the Empire's embroidery below his feet that is the Royal Carpet.

As the doors opened, he put his best foot forward. Marching proudly down the hall with his head held high as worthy as the Knights who precede him, whom were the first people he recognizes attending the ceremony from the Throne Room door's immediate vicinity wearing a similar ceremonial wardrobe for the occasion.

After the Knights, came the Noble Houses, descendants of Caldell's closest followers, dressed in their opulent robes and fanning themselves with their own prestige. Next followed were the Magisters from the College, they held their staffs by their hands like sentinels stoically looking on with studious eyes at Faithleann as he passes by. Also, across the hall, he made pass more peculiar folks that he had never seen before in his life, some of which only heard in stories and gossip that passed through his childhood town of Clervuite, non-humans. He saw delegations of the Empire's peers standing closest to the Emperor's thrones with their heraldry in full display. He saw the Ethuilen Elves in their graceful aura's wearing their translucent and colorful robes or wearing their resplendent armors. He saw husky the Dwarves of Clan Kur Falduhr in their master-crafted armors. Races close to the Empire's heart for their partnerships. There also other Delegates from lesser-known or more exotic areas that the young boy heard whispers about. He saw the Tavai Sea Elves, dressed in a scantier version of Ethuilen's own designs which emphasized their well-toned bodies. A contingent of Daosne Shamans, silently prayed to their 'Guardian' Spirits of each of the Volyudi, Kotayudi, Bykalyudi, the major Tribes of the Northern Barbarians. Faithleann even noticed one of their own, a hulking Bykalyudi or Bull-Person as its commonly called around the Empire claspin a letter at his person. Perhaps another plea for peace or another of the tribe's diplomatic gestures with courtesy to the more civilized neighbors as he thinks. With their bizarre runic marks scattered on their bodies, these Shamans were the shabbiest dressed people in the room causing most folks to keep a diplomatic distance from them, not helping their case that Daosne never clean themselves. Then there was a baggy dressed man from the Eastern Suzerainities, adorned with finest jewels and pelts from the monsters known to roam the savannahs there. The next two groups of unusual guests were from the continent of Saihan, he never heard many stories of them other than the Elves being in contact with this isolative continent east of Ysanigrad beyond the coasts of the Suzerainties. He saw a furry eared but less bestial compared to the Daosne humanoid who wore a flowing red and gold-lined robe that kept hidden his hands, a tall cap shaped like a branch reaching upwards making him look taller than his barely five-foot stature could compensate. He was a Yeouseon or a Fox-man with a remarkable amalgamation between humans and a fox, with the human side being more profound than the latter. The only remarkably alien feature was his narrow-slit eyes, but only when you look at him face to face up close could you notice them being shaped like a castle's arrow slit. He was attended by four other figures who bowed their heads down with humility before the tall-capped Yeouseon. This one was an envoy from the declining Roegyo Dynasty of the Yeojegung Empire. His lands declining due to the violent takeover of the robust Black Tree Pact. The other envoy from Saihan is, in contrast, an imposing to rival the Bykalyudi shaman, Snake-kin or a Nahana as they prefer to call themselves from the tropical jungle kingdom of Nahadhya. He was the most unsettling of the people in attendance, almost giving off the same disdainful aura the Daosne are giving. He lacked legs, except that he carries himself with a strong and flexible appendage below his torso that allows him to glide through any surface with ease. He was acting as both an envoy to his people and as a peculiar bodyguard choice for the Yeouseon due to the fact that the last free remnants of the Dynasty bordered where Nahadhya begins.

All of them looked at Faithleann as he made his way towards the Throne with a mixed reception with hope from the Dwarves and Elves, uncertainty from the Naha and the Yeouseon, apathy for the Daosne and the Tavai. The Dwarves and the Elves came were in attendance for their mutual interests with the Empire despite the two's differences. The Naha and the Yeouseon had a concern of what this could mean for the Empire and their people's whilst the Daosne and the Tavai couldn't careless of the Chosen One, they had their own reasons why they are in the Emperor's presence. They began to whisper quietly to each other of their subjective thoughts on Faithleann.

"This boy, so young, but can he? Does he know what will happen to him after this is all over?" one of the Knights asked another that is his senior.

"The Chosen One is blessed with Magic just like us? Such is the tilt of the Human's Crystal Heart." An Elf scoffed. He was envious of such an individual magically significant but subpar race can be suddenly blessed with a huge assortment of magical inclination to all forms of Magic compared to the Elves natural Arcane talents and carefully crafted lineage started by their founders who originally created the Elven Kingdom of Alfel-Nora before the Dissension War causing the Elves to be split between the Black Tree Pact and the Entente with a posthumous break off of their island colonies south creating the Tavai Sea Elf nation.

"I just hope this Agreement we have with the Empire will work out well for us in the long run. I have to tell the Drudge Caste to double their quotas to meet the conditions." The Dwarven envoy commented with concern. He knew the Empire will ask of his people to produce more minerals in exchange for more vital materials unavailable in the Ostalrocs.

"You are a Tavai am I correct?" the Volyudi Shaman asked the Sea Elf.

"Indeed. What brings you to me Handyn?" the Tavai asked.

"Don't call me that first." The Shaman said. "I am here with a warning. I have little to no reason that we can trust this Chosen One nor the scrying of the College."

"Tell me something I don't know." The Tavai waved off.

"You and I both know that the Empire is only going to push harder against us now that the powers that be are emboldened with this Chosen One's arrival. Who's to say that they may use him against us eventually?" the Shaman argued which caught the Sea Elf and gave him pause.

Could this Chosen One really be more than just a glorified armament? Could it be used against his people and also the Daosne's own? What about everyone else that is neither Man nor Elf? The Empire, the Entente and arguably the Black Tree Pact are the greatest powers in the world right now. This crisis of the Demon Invasion and the rumormongering of the Chosen One's exceptional abilities will surely disrupt the status quo.

"I hope this Chosen One can help us too. My Emperor would pay any price for his help." The Yeouseon envoy wondered.

Many more held their reasonable doubts on Faithleann ranging from his unusually young age of being Knighted with all the skipping of Squirehood with a sponsoring Knight though many argued back that the Emperor is not barred in handling the apprenticeship and sponsoring of neophytes in addition to the newly emergent Demon Crisis being a state of emergency that certain customs and laws will have to be bypassed.

Passing by all of his onlookers he made his steps up the elevated platform where Emperor Uldin and the Cadfridogion y Lleng leaders stood by looking at him ominously with their dignified gaze. Some filled with doubt, others filled with hope for this young boy given such a prestigious status at such a young age. Yet the Emperor briefed them earlier, that the ceremony and their attendance was a formality, he wanted to show the Empire how seriously he is dealing with the new threat of these Otherworlders and how much he is willing to go for investing in their protection. Once he has shown his hand, the rest of the Nobility, the Army and the Commoners will show their support.

"Kneel, Faithleann Garmhaic, my child." Emperor Uldin fatherly said as he drew the ceremonial sword, a replica of Cân Rhyfel used for the Knighting Ceremony.

The young boy knelt forward, his knees landing on a soft pillow to cushion him as he awaited the rite's completion with his eyes fixated with fire looking up to the august Emperor Uldin. To several of the closer onlookers, it was rather peculiar of an up and coming young Knight to not humbly lower his head before the one knighting him. Some debated quietly behind the scenes whether the boy was showing arrogance before the Emperor or a passionate desire to look into his liege lord's eyes as he is being knighted by him.

"Do you, Faithleann Garmhaic solemnly swear to defend the Empire until your final breath from all of its enemies?" the Emperor asked.

"I do." Faithleann responded.

"Do you, Faithleann Garmhaic uphold the honor and prestige worthy of the esteemed Knights of the Empire? The Marchog?"

"I do."

"And lastly, do you, Faithleann Garmhaic to uphold

"By the powers of the Dwyful Teulu, I Emperor Uldin with the powers given to me by the Gods dub you, Faithleann Garmhaic, to be consigned with honors and titles to the Knighthood of the Order of the Soaring Dragon." Uldin dubbed as he tapped the replica sword on Faithleann's two shoulders with the ceremonial weapon's flat side.

Despite his face remaining motionless, Faithleann internally could barely hold his excitement. His dreams coming true before his very eyes. He had to pinch himself dozens of times whenever he met any of his heroes and idols from the upper echelons of the Empire's Elites to see he wasn't just dreaming of his hopes for the future. Yet indeed, the future he wanted to have heard now.

"Arise Marchog Garmhaic." Uldin told him now with his new title.

Faithleann followed, and with a smile on his face, the trumpets blared as the Slaegians within the crowd sang a joyous chorus. It was the song "Tale of the Hearts" a song detailing the saga of Caldell Slaegiac and often sang whenever the Sacred Heart bless a new Chosen One or few. Often the song is sung during the Jubilation Day when the Empire was founded.

"Let us gift the Chosen One with the boons he will need for his journey." Emperor declared.

With a quick motion of his hands, several people from the crowds marched forward and knelt down to the Emperor before eagerly looking on to Faithleann. He can recognize from among them, Petur 'the Faithful' Reikdorf, Karliah Silverdane, Mita the Crow and Findrum the Monster Hunter. There were however also several other people of unfamiliarity as Faithleann examined from scholarly folks, industrious craftsmen to knightly soldiers.

"My Child, these men and women will be your followers in your journey. The finest the Empire has to offer." The Emperor bestowed "You may have already met several of them already."

"I am Marchog Gratianus Faughn." Stately and heavily armored Knight saluted. "I will be your Mentor on your Chivalric duties as a Marchog." He said.

"Ser Faughn is one of the most respected Knights who served at my side and my lineage for years faithfully. Although he maybe past his prime, this man mentored Petur when he was newly dubbed too." Uldin added.

"Indeed." Gratianus bowed.

The next one the Chosen One walked towards, was a bubbly looking young woman with dark hair but rosy cheeks jumped in front of Faithleann with excitement. She wore a virginal white robe adorned with leather belts holding scholarly implements like quill pens, inkwells, measuring tools and examination apparatuses. An air of prodigious femininity can be scented by Faithleann as he passed by her.

"Hello! I am Olayra Ekroth." The girl said. "I can speak eight languages, read 10 languages, can tell the difference between a Wyvern and a Dragon, my fruits to my vegetables, my herbs to my spices…" The Scholarly girl spoke rapidly.

"Forgive me, but she is quite a fast speaker. But Ladui Ekroth is one of the College's best Scholars. She may not be a Mage by any sense but she is a prodigy in Alchemy and Languages. In addition, she is also from Clervuite and is around your age." The Emperor smiled with a suggestive tone.

To not cause offense, Faithleann honestly couldn't recognize this Olayra Ekroth. He couldn't recall anyone from his childhood years with that name or perhaps it's just the fact that the town had only one school house and there were over fifty other children other than him coddled up inside it for the first 10 years of their lives.

The last person was a burly man, perhaps the tallest in the room by his giant size almost akin to an Ogre thanks to the light shade of lilac on his skin. He was wearing several medals over his white Apron. His chin however was his most protruding part or in the sense it's most glaring. It was elongated with an oversized lower lip. Essentially this goliath was somewhat deformed.

"This is Morthwyl. He is a Half-Ogre blacksmith who was under the tutelage of the great blacksmith Gwilliam Keelan." Uldin said.

"The Keelan's? The ones who made many Legendary Weapons and Armors like Cân Ryhfel?

Morthwyl nodded with a clack from his mouth.

"I forgot to also say that he can't talk very well…" the Emperor awkwardly mentioned. "But he is quite vigorous in the Smithy and he is talented enough to use Scandanite and Actocolite ingots to make whatever you and your army of followers need."

"Army?" Faithleann twitched his eyebrow.

"I shall explain." The Emperor said as he stepped forward with his hands raised to call out the attention of the crowd gathered in his Throne Room.

"My Subjects, my Attendants and Envoys. I, Emperor Uldin of the lineage of the Slaegiac, do declare my annotation for the first time after we were attacked by the Steel Cloud that rained thunder and fire from the sky on our fair city." He said.

It was over about less than a fortnight ago when Haringpoint was attacked and the Emperor was making his first public appearance since then. The areas still devastated by the attacks were already being cleared off of rubble. Many of the affected citizens were looking towards any authority for guidance yet the chaos that ensued during the attack caused a bureaucratic standstill in the Imperial Senate due to several important figures, buildings and even injuries caused miscommunication amongst the Authorities and the Citizenry. Some even began to speculate beforehand that the Emperor was killed during the attacks. But the rumors were shot down when the invitations were given out for delegates and the Nobility to attend this event.

There were however several unexpected complications such as the arrival of the Daosne Shamans, the arrival of the two Envoys from Saihan who were part of a mercantile fleet and the delay induce in bringing in Faithleann's followers into Haringpoint in such a short notice hence a rather precarious yet intriguing environment of a diverse set of vested groups within Ysanigrad and beyond.

"I must apologize for my silence these past few moons but I assure you, my silence was necessary for I was taking great heed to ensure the Empire's response to this catastrophe brought before us." Uldin humbly bowed.

The Nobility and the Marchog gave an ovation to the Emperor now that their concerns were finally being answered after days of grueling ambiguity from the Throne.

"I maybe old and aging, but rest assure that I have not doddered off yet." The Emperor said. "For you are my people and I am your Emperor. I take your safety and the continuation of your well-being seriously. We must find the other two Chosen Ones and bring them to our fold so we may bring a decisive end to the Demonic Invasion. To prove that what I say is the truth, I am investing heavily into our triumph against this emanating crisis." The Emperor snapped his fingers.

He signaled several servants coming forth bearing gifts for the Chosen One. One gift was a chest filled with Ducats, another was a finely adorned and polished saddle that indicates the gifting of an exalted steed for which he can ride on and the last gift was a badge containing the Imperial Dragon Insignia. Confused, the Chosen One tapped Emperor Uldin.

"What is that you are giving me?" he asked pointing to the badge.

"Ah, that is the Imperial Crest used by diplomats and officials to show their status. Wearing it will allow you to travel freely within the Imperial Road's and not be compelled to pay the tolls for you and your followers and granting you audiences with virtually anyone in the Empire whom you may need at your disposal. In addition to all of those privileges, you will also have the authority and the responsibility to levy soldiers unto your Army of up to five-thousand men or a whole Legion. It also gives you a degree of protection from the Law." the Emperor said.

"And about this Army? What will it contain?" Faithleann asked.

"You are free to choose who joins your Army, but if you are to ask for my input, Marchog Faughn's old Legion, the 14th Legion are willing to let go several of their men to your banner. Mages from the College can also be coerced into joining your Army as long as you can keep their needs in check. Mercenaries, however, will be needing payment but if you evoke the Seal on to their contracts, they can attain their due at any Imperial Banks in our major cities." The Emperor explained.

"This all more than enough that I can work with." Faithleann smiled.

"Your words are truth, my Child. Do you have anything to say?" the Emperor asked.

"Yes," Faithleann said. He stepped forward into the audience's view as he inhaled his breath. "People of the Empire, I Faithleann Garmhaic, latest in the line of the Marchogs do solemnly swear to vanquish the Demons from our lands and purge down everything that they have corrupted. Not only, that I will for as long as I breathe, will take the fight those who seek the Empire's destruction!" He addressed the crowds.

A standing ovation followed for the Chosen one, except for the Daosne Shamans, the Tavai and the Sahai Envoys who lay their quietly, uncertain what this Slaegian's ascension would mean for their people.

-------------------------------

From the window, Prince Clovich Rian marveled past the great bastions of the Federation's mastery of the great void or 'Space Station' as his guide, a one Isabel San Matthias described. Isabel, dowager who worked for the Federation's Government as a Cultural Historian of 'Old Earth' as she described herself. She was attached with courtesy to Chairwoman Di Poppo to be Clovich's guide to the planet Earth. These Space Stations being the defensive barriers that protect the Federation's Capital of Earth from all sides. He also marveled at the spherical celestial bodies of the Sol system before him. He saw Saturn's rings crowning the world in an auspicious circlet; the discombobulating palette of green earth, blue veins and orange deserts being lit up by the off-planet view of the starlight skylines of Mar's nightly-side; the planet system's sun who's golden glow reminded him of Lehsol back home; before finally he saw the great Shipyard of the UFE's Navy based in Sol, Starfleet Sol.

"Tell me, Ladui San Ma-teh-yas? What is Earth like?" Prince Clovich asked his companion.

"Like your homeland, green grass, blue waters and bright skies. Only the difference being of our advanced technologies in contrast." Isabel said. "Tell me, what do you know of our technology?"

"I know of Windmills that you also have just like ours that produces this mystical power of Ee-lec-tris-ete." The Prince says.

"Energy, yes. Very important to us too and very important to you too? Just like your Mana Crystals." Isabel said.

"Indeed. If I may ask. What other wondrous technologies of yours do you have?" Clovich ask.

"So many to think about? Where can I begin?" Isabel flustered.

"Where did King May-jee begin when he was like me?" Clovich asked.

Isabel was surprised and amused by the Otherworlder's semi-inaccurate historical insight. She recovered with a sincere smile as she shuffled the cards in her head in response.

"You mean Emperor Meiji of Japan. Yes, I do say you have his fire for progress in your eyes." Isabel said.

"This, Ja-pan. What is it like?" He asked.

"Used to be just farmlands and rough mountains before the Emperor brought technology into his realm turning the Island Nation into one of the most powerful nations in my History." She said.

"Can I… visit it?" Clovich asked.

"Maybe, after your appearance before our Parliament, we can arrange that. You are here to see what we the United Federation of Earth are capable of." Isabel said.

"And how we can work together." Clovich nodded.

"Of course," she praised.

"Attention all personnel, prepare for landing to the Basel Spaceport." The captain of the ship announced in the PA's speakers.

After placing himself at a seat and fastening his seatbelt, Clovich observed the descent from the black void of space to the Federation's home world of Earth. Passing by the aurora borealis above its atmosphere, Clovich marveled at the rainbow palette of lights it produced when their rays clashed with the monotone white clouds of the beginning of Earth's aerospace. He could feel the clinging sensation of gravity take root within his bones as the ship further descent closer to the planet's surface. The clouds grew thicker with every altitude drop before finally from beneath the bottom of his glass window, he saw a glimpsed of green and solid land followed by the dotting presence of civilization in contrast to the natural surroundings.

The ship landed safely at Basel, Switzerland the closest Spaceport to the UFE's central political heart of Geneva in the Western European Prefecture. From outside the window, the Prince and his entourage saw a great expanse of concrete ground where the Spaceport placed their ships and gizmo-filled tools related to the docking, launching, and maintenance of these Great Flying Boats. As the Ship glided its way onto a carousel attached to its bottom, Clovich could see the industrious tools of the UFE's might be transitioned away with the ground suddenly turning to a bright royal red with a walkway and barriers that followed along the red-colored path towards an awaiting carriage. Behind the barriers scores of people in brightened clothes, leathery vests aiming their eyes at him. He could feel thousands of eyes fall upon the Prince as the wheeled boarding ramp adjoined itself to the Ship's supply bay. It's stairs also too, covered in red carpet as earlier.

Prince Clovich held on both a fear and an optimistic drive within when he first made his journey from Tyr Rian to Earth. What would these greater being think of him? What will he be able to see on Earth? How could this visit affect what will happen back home? All of those thoughts ran through his head as he and his entourage were escorted to the boarding ramp.

A sharply dressed man, similar to the way Governor White dressed but with a blue sash of the UFE's many ringed emblem attached by his shoulder with his gray two-piece suit.

"Prince Clovich? Welcome, Welcome! I am Prime Minister Frantses Bousquet. The Head of State of the United Federation. I… we Welcome you to Earth."