October 4, 8 ATC

City of Sang-Divin, Duchy of Sororae, Triumvirate of Enabler

Vinpap and Faker sat in the living room of Vinpap's mansion, gazing out the window as the sun set on the city. Faker looked over at Vinpap, nodded knowingly and drained the glass of wine he held in his hand. As he set out pouring another, they heard the doors of the room open, and the last Triumvir of their number strolled nonchalantly into the room.

"Well, well," Faker said as he smirked triumphantly. "I told Vinpap that you would be late, but I didn't expect you to be so tardy." He began sipping his refilled glass. "You never cease to impress me with how little you care for the matters of statecraft."

Triumvir Contramundi rolled his eyes and sat down at the remaining chair in the room. "I was attending to a rather serious matter, for your information." He glared at Faker and turned toward Vinpap, who arched an eyebrow at him questioningly. "You see, a merchant who visited our city…"

"We can discuss this later, Contramundi." Vinpap waved him off as he straightened in his chair. "I'm not getting any younger, you know. And the fact that both of you asked for this meeting to happen astounds me. I was beginning to believe you'd never agree on anything." He laughed to himself and offered the bottle of wine to Contramundi, who grabbed it. "What is the purpose of this meeting?"

"The upcoming Diet, Vinpap." Faker sipped his wine. "We want to know where your vote will go. Towards unity…" He glared at Contramundi. "Or towards the petty squabbles that have kept us from advancing for the past five hundred years."

Contramundi sneered as he poured himself a glass of wine. "Vinpap, don't listen to this sellout. He thinks that by sacrificing our freedom to the whim of some autocrat, he can gain something. What is it Inferno promised you? Wealth? Power? My head?" He smiled and sipped his wine.

"He resorts to slander yet again!" Faker gritted his teeth. "For your information, Inferno has promised me nothing. The only thing I have to gain from this is what we all have to gain: prosperity. Peace. An end to the instability that has plagued us for so long. Contramundi would end our chances of uniting for his own pursuit of power. You're just afraid that the new monarch would see what a self-serving ingrate you actually are and remove you from your position."

"For someone who speaks so fondly of peace," Contramundi noted as his wine continued to disappear, "you are very eager to attack." He turned back to Vinpap, who had his head leaning on his hand, unimpressed.

"What Faker has forgotten, Vinpap, is that with a total monarch, we must surrender our sovereignty. Enabler, since the days of the early Subreddit, has survived, despite the opposition of so many others. Aside from the dark days of Celtic, which are still fresh in my mind, we have been a free nation for nearly five hundred years. Are we willing to sacrifice our nation and our legacy for a selfish whim?"

"Celtic was a tyrant and a madman," Faker said. "If we vote in favor of a monarch, we get to decide who they might be." He sighed and paused. "The real question is: are we willing to sacrifice our only chance at peace for Contramundi's ambition?"

Vinpap paused and rubbed his temples. He stood up, shaking his head, and he grabbed his cane and his wine glass in either hand. He sipped his drink as he walked over to the window.

"I have been Triumvir longer than either of you have been alive. I have seen men just like both of you squabble and bicker until the only thing left of their legacy is how long they spent fighting." Another sip. "That is not what I will allow our legacy to be.

"Enabler has progressed and thrived through the ages, despite great opposition." He gazed out the window at the city, watching its many denizens below bustle through the streets. "They called us savages, degenerates and hedonists. And yet we persist."

Vinpap gulped the wine and turned back towards Faker and Contramundi. "We have persisted because we are craftier and wilier than any other people in the Subreddit. We have persisted because we have the freedom to resist." He walked back to his seat and set down his near-empty wine glass, sighing. "I will not vote in Inferno's favor. An absolute monarch would shackle our people's autonomy, the autonomy that has allowed us to survive. For the nation of Enabler, I must side with Contramundi."

Faker stood, incensed. "You can't be serious! After everything you've seen, after all the infighting and wars, we've been given an opportunity to end it all, and you're just going to let it pass by?"

"Enough, Faker," Contramundi said, smirking victoriously. "He's made his decision."

"And no amount of campaigning will change it, Faker," Vinpap added. "This session is over. Leave me."

"I-" Faker stammered, but he quickly fell silent. "As you wish." He and Contramundi bowed and left.

As they walked away, Contramundi grinned smugly. "Better luck next time, Faker." With a laugh, he made off towards his mansion.

Faker watched him as he walked away, pondering how he would deal with him. "Soon," he whispered to himself, and he continued on his way.

Upon arriving at his own mansion, Faker closed the door as roughly as he could without knocking it off its hinges. Angrily, he marched into the dining hall, where three guests waited patiently for him to arrive.

Upon seeing Faker distraught, Zissman stood up and sighed.

"I'm guessing that he didn't side with you?" He asked flatly, somewhat disappointed.

Faker's anger gave way to shame, and he looked down sheepishly. "Well, no. Contramundi continues to flex his influence over Vinpap. The old man has practically taken him as a son." He sighed and made a beeline for the wine cabinet, flinging the doors open and retrieving a bottle of wine and four glasses.

Jannis spoke as Faker began pouring the glasses. "While the loss of Enabler's votes is regrettable, it is by no means the end of the game. There is still time, and there must be some minor noblemen you can sway towards our cause."

"If you think it'd help," Anti spoke up, "I can always bribe a few lords and whatnot. There's enough here that with your blackmail and my money, we could outvote Celtic with only Counts."

"I wouldn't get that ambitious," Zissman intoned as Faker handed him a glass. "But I like the way you're thinking. We need to press every advantage we have. Only then can we reach our endgame."

"And what is your endgame?" Faker asked. "You take over the Subreddit and extend the Church's influence. Then what? Is it power for power's sake?"

Jannis laughed, somewhat condescendingly. "You're thinking like a politician. All we want is to spread the message of salvation to the world. Sometimes, though, that requires...unpleasant methods."

"All for the greater good, hmm?" Faker muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear. Zissman smiled.

"Indeed, Faker. Even if you doubt us, surely you can trust in your rewards? You will be sovereign of all of Rubia, and Enabler can finally be the power it was always meant to be." He turned to Anti, who was listening patiently. "And the prestige and the riches of the Logic family will be restored as you've always sought, my dear."

Anti and Faker nodded, contemplating what their future would look like once the Church succeeded. Anti furrowed her brow and turned toward Zissman and Jannis.

"What of Inferno? What will happen to her?"

"If she holds her peace, then we are quite content to allow her to remain in power," Jannis replied. "It would please me to see her in our inner circle. However, I think we all know that that is not feasible, not yet. She is too crafty to be trusted, and none of us should fully trust her until we are sure that she will not strike against us."

"Fair enough," Anti said. "Trust doesn't make good business."

Faker smiled "Very true. But I don't think we should be so preoccupied with it. You're in Enabler, for Goddesses' sakes! Please, allow me to treat you. There's plenty to see, and there's no shortage of things to do." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, prompting the other three conspirators to roll their eyes.

"Not in a hundred years," Zissman stated flatly, "would I ever engage in such debauchery. But I appreciate the offer."

"I'm inclined to agree," Jannis said, nodding. "Who knows what diseases your workers are afflicted with?" He turned to Zissman, who shot him a glare. "And it's all very immoral, of course," he added hastily.

"I know a good deal when I hear one," Anti added. "And there is no way that offer ends well for anybody here."

Faker laughed jovially and drained his glass of wine. "Suit yourself. Can I offer you a bottle for the road? A gift, of course." He produced three bottles from the cabinet, each a deep, rich red.

Anti shrugged and took a bottle. "I might as well. Thank you kindly, Faker."

"Anytime." He turned to the Church representatives. "A bottle for either of you kind sirs?"

Zissman smiled and waved him away. "I appreciate the sentiment, but we have enough already."

"Speak for yourself," Jannis said, smirking. He grabbed a bottle. "Free wine is always good."

"I wouldn't go that far," Zissman joked. "But, if it pleases you. Now, let's hurry along. We have business in Monochrome."

The two gave a small bow to Faker and Anti and exited. As Jannis passed the table, he subtly grabbed the third bottle of wine and made his way out.

Anti and Faker chuckled lightly at the sight, and the businesswoman grabbed her coat. "Always a pleasure, Faker."

"You too, lass. Stay safe." She waved him goodbye and left the room, leaving Faker alone.

Faker took a look at the clock on the wall, which had just arrived at four-fifty. He sighed

"Well, it's five o'clock somewhere," he noted to himself, and he began to pour another glass.

October 27, 8 ATC

City of Guns N' Roses, Duchy of Gunnia, Kingdom of Guns N' Roses

Gwydion sat in his dimly lit quarters, fiddling and prodding with impossibly well-crafted cogs and metal slivers as he worked on his new project. Though the gunpowder and the projectiles were easy to come by, combining them safely into one mechanism was difficult. One of his assistants had almost been killed during a test firing.

His left arm began to twitch incessantly, as it did every now and again. In frustration, he tore off his dusty apron and hung it up, grumbling to himself.

"Is the arm acting up again?"

Gwydion turned to see Nitesco standing in the doorway of his workshop, leaning on his cane. He smiled.

"Not as badly as the leg, clearly. And not nearly as bad as my project."

"Yes, I heard about that in great detail. In other news, Hetterman has mostly regained motor functions in his leg, and we didn't have to amputate the foot after all. In fact, he's insistent on coming back to work as soon as possible."

"That's the best news I've heard all day." Gwydion paused. "How is the legislature? Have they voted against the movement?"

Nitesco nodded and began turning away, beckoning for Gwydion to follow. "Yes, nearly unanimously. Only four representatives voted for the movement, and with the support of King Frasian VIII, we will dedicate ourselves to stopping Inferno."

The pair began walking through the walls of the Prime Minister's estate, both of them still quietly admiring the lavish decorations, despite having lived there for nearly eight years.

"How is Frasian these days?" Gwydion asked. Nitesco shrugged.

"He's only eighteen. The duties of office weigh heavily on him. Being the face of a country makes a big impression on someone, especially someone who's been brought up with that responsibility. That makes him malleable enough, though I hate to admit it." Nitesco sighed. "I wish he didn't have to bear this burden."

"Well he wanted to, didn't he?" Gwydion said. "I'd want to restore the monarchy's good name if my father was killed and my uncle turned collaborator. His heart's in the right place, and that nagging regent of his is finally out of our hair."

"I suppose," Nitesco said, though both of them knew he had his reservations.

They arrived in the lounge, which possessed a window with an unparalleled view of the city. It was currently being bombarded with heavy rains, but that did not stop Gwydion from going over to the window and marveling at the view. Nitesco sat behind him and sighed.

"I'm worried, Gwydion."

The engineer turned around to face Nitesco. "About what?"

"Queen Inferno. How could Inferno ever be related to such a venomous woman?"

"That can't be what's bothering you," Gwydion noted.

"No, it's not. It's what she's doing that concerns me."

"The Diet?" Gwydion chuckled. "I'm not savvy with Subreddit politics, but I think we both know that's her last gasp. What about it concerns you?"

"The pattern, Gwydion." Nitesco stood, agitated. Gwydion sighed and watched as his friend walked over to the window and stared out at the city.

"These people, these insignificant players keep crawling out of the woodwork and taking the reins." He sighed.

"For three years after Nachbar's death, the criminal world was aflame. Smugglers, spies, thieves and city criminals all feuding over who would take over the Top Shelf syndicate. Then, some bastard crawls out of the mud and ends a three-year war in four months. No doubt you've heard of the Mask?"

"The organization or the person?" Gwydion asked. He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. What does he have to do with anything?"

"It's not just him, Gwydion." Nitesco began pacing around the room, rubbing his chin. "The Yurist Rebellion in Arkos, four years ago. Ten times stronger than any other revolt they faced. It raged for two years until that General Zealander waltzes in and polishes it up in five months.

"The Church of Thorns. Three years ago, a handful of proselytizers come from beyond the northern borders. Now, they number in the millions. In three years, they gained more supporters than any other religion could in thirty.

"King Coronam. A pleasant man, but something's off about him. For six years, he's operated in relative isolation, sending a few diplomats here and there. That's it. Now, he's rubbing elbows with every ruler from the ocean to the east mountains. He became the face of the opposition movement practically overnight. And he seems vaguely familiar, though I'm not sure why." He shook his head.

"It's not important. Now, we have Inferno. Celtic's revolt stripped her family of most of their influence and their union over Crosshares. For six years she rules. Nobody cares about her. Suddenly, she starts making moves. She restores the union over Crosshares. She triples her sphere of influence. And now she's making a move on the whole Subreddit. Why? Why do these things keep happening?"

As Nitesco sank into a chair, Gwydion walked over to his side.

"We were nobodies too, once." Nitesco looked up at him, and Gwydion smiled. "And now look at us! Ten years ago, would you have imagined us here?

"I suppose not," Nitesco said. "But I wish we were all here."

The room was quiet.

"So do I," Gwydion sighed. "Who knows? Maybe we will see them again. Or maybe, some nobodies will come and help us."

Nitesco smiled forlornly. "Maybe." He paused. "Would you like to get lunch?"

The blacksmith smiled. "Why not?"

Gwydion helped him up and they began walking to the dining hall, reminiscing on happier times.