July 29, 4 BTC

Crown Castle, Duchy of the Crownlands, Kingdom of Night's Watch

Celtic's week had been a full one. His uncle had recently stepped up his efforts to teach him the proper ways of rulership and had arranged for his lieutenants to tutor him in the offices of leadership. He still trained with Yokei in the morning, but their sessions were becoming shorter as his schedule became fuller and fuller. Now he treasured the time he spent with his combat tutor as it became ever rarer.

Yokei charged him with a makeshift halberd, making wide, horizontal sweeps and Celtic deflected each with his training blade. He made sure to add in an exaggerated yawn in between Yokei's attacks.

"Is that all you've got, old man?" He tauntingly asked. Yokei huffed and brought the halberd up, preparing to bring it down on Celtic's head. Celtic, seeing his opportunity, opted to charge.

He received a swift kick in the gut, which sent him stumbling backwards. As he regained his footing, Celtic laughed as he saw Yokei struggle to heave the halberd up again, leaving himself wide open.

With a shout, Celtic leapt at Yokei, ready to end their duel. Yokei merely smiled and swung the halberd up with ease, knocking Celtic in the ear and effectively ending the match.

As the young man groaned on the ground, Yokei smiled triumphantly. "You lost."

"I did. I did," Celtic admitted, sweeping the dust off himself. "But why? My technique was good enough, wasn't it?"

"Your technique was fine," Yokei admitted. "Almost flawless, save for two errors."

"Let me guess: recklessness?" Celtic asked. Yokei nodded.

"At least you recognize it. Yes, your recklessness is a problem. As it was for your father, your uncle, and their father before them. It runs in the family. But I do have a solution."

"And what might that be?"

Yokei smiled and tossed him the mock halberd. "I'm suspending your sword practice. From now on, you train with the halberd. It'll teach you some patience."

Celtic caught the halberd and pouted. "But I don't like halberds. They're so bulky. And awkward. And long."

"Yes," Yokei nodded. "I know. But the point is to teach you precision and practice. Halberds and the like are difficult to master, and I know they can feel awkward. But if you do master them, you'll have mastered your flaw, and if you master your flaws…"

"I'll be unstoppable," Celtic finished. "So you've told me. But if I wanted something this big and bulky, I'd have taken a mace."

"A mace?" Yokei scoffed. "A mace is just a hunk of metal on the end of a stick. There's no artistry or technique with it. It's just… smash." He groaned. "A mace! Of all the…"

"What about my second error?" Celtic asked, rousing Yokei from his grumblings. "You said I made two. What's the second?"

"Oh, yes. When I had my halberd down on the ground, I pretended to be too tired to pick it up. You saw that, and you went in for the kill."

"What's so wrong about that?" Celtic grumbled. "Was I supposed to let you live?"

"Obviously not. Don't get snippy with me, boy," Yokei chided him. "But I deceived you. I tricked you into thinking that I was vulnerable, and you fell for it. That was your second error."

Celtic nodded, absorbing the information. "Does this have anything to do with 'war being deception' or something like that? I hear Greatness say that a lot when he's tutoring me."

Yokei laughed and knelt down next to him. "It's not just on the battlefield, boy. It's any fight of any kind. Trade wars, politics, debates. Every confrontation, every altercation you will ever have will center on deception. Technique is all fine and good, but deception is the heart of all warfare. You'd do well to remember that."

"And what about allies?" Celtic asked. "In our lessons, Jokey says that every friend is just an enemy that hasn't attacked yet. Is that right?"

"Jokey can be a bit… zealous at times," Yokei admitted. "Keep that in mind. Now remember this, boy: war is based on deception, but alliances are based on trust. Even the strongest alliance can be destroyed by secrets. When in war, you must hold strong to your friends, because if you do not stand together, you will fall alone. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Yokei." Celtic sighed and sheathed his practice sword. "I understand."

"Good." Yokei smiled, his point made. "Now, how about some lunch? I'm famished."

Celtic smiled, his spirits lightened a little. "That sounds good. I'd like to have something to eat before I listen to Uncle drone on about taxes and tariffs and whatnot."

"Yes," Yokei laughed as they began walking inside. "That sounds about right."

They smiled and laughed all the way into the banquet hall, but Yokei's grave warning lingered in the back of Celtic's mind.

December 3, 8 ATC

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

For as long as Austin could remember, she had always wanted to live in a mansion. Or a manor. Or a castle. When she was an orphan, scrounging through the refuse of Prosthetium with her fellow street urchins, she dreamed of one day living in a big mansion on a hill, just like the Countess did. It was her only life goal.

Now, though, it just seemed gaudy.

Every room in the house was decorated with gold or silver, and one could find a painting of some famous scene or person from history in every hallway. "It's an acquired taste," Nitesco had told her. Austin believed it.

The only redeeming quality was the view. The manor was situated on the same hill as the palace and the embassies, and it afforded a beautiful view of the city. Austin had spent several hours over the last few days gazing out at the city, looking at the tiny rows of houses and the river. She would've sheltered herself by the window permanently if Nitesco and Gwydion hadn't allowed her to attend dinners and meetings.

By that window was where Gwydion found her that morning. She hadn't noticed him come in until he cleared his throat.

"Austin," he said curtly. "They're here."

"Who's they?" she asked. Hopefully not more Villainians. They came in two varieties: excessively loud and excessively cynical, and she was tired of both.

"Let's just say there's a lot of important people. Come now, the others will arrive soon, and we have much to discuss."

Austin nodded and followed Gwydion to the meeting room, wondering who had come to visit today. Maybe it was the Arkos delegation again. They had been around a lot recently. Or perhaps it was the Bumblebee delegation. Nitesco had said they would arrive at some point.

As Gwydion opened the doors, however, Austin was surprised to see King Coronam sitting at the opposite end of the table. Upon seeing her, Coronam smiled.

"Ah, Austin herself. It's a pleasure to finally have a chance to talk."

"Likewise, King," Austin responded, trying to seem sophisticated. "Though I haven't been told what we are here to talk about."

Nitesco, who was sitting on the long side of the table, beckoned for her and Gwydion to sit down next to him. "We are here to finalize the creation of a league against Inferno. The meetings we've had over the last few weeks were just to make sure everyone's on board. Now we get down to business to create a command structure and whatnot."

Austin sat down next to Nitesco. "So, what are we going to call it?"

Nitesco shrugged and fiddled with his cane. "We'll figure that out later. Right now, we just need to wait for our guests to arrive."

"That reminds me," Coronam said. "Opifexa, go and see how close the others are to arriving." The woman at his right nodded and promptly disappeared while Coronam turned to the man at his left.

"Cinder, go and fetch our honored guest."

Cinder nodded and began walking away. As he caught Austin's eye, he gave a small, mischievous wink before disappearing out the same door Opifexa left from.

"I recognize him," Austin whispered to Nitesco. He gave her a serious look and beckoned for her to lean closer.

"From where?"

"He was an associate of the Mask. He gave me, Jelo and Kazehh the contract to protect McDouggal."

Nitesco nodded slowly, considering this. "Well, I knew Coronam was planning a counterattack for some time. But his connections to the Mask are good to know."

Coronam and Nitesco scanned the room as more diplomats steadily came filing in, shepherded by Opifexa. At first, it was just the representatives of minor nations, probably hoping for some protection against Inferno's bulwark. After a little bit, more major nations began arriving. The Ilian League. Freezerburn. Nuts and Dolts. A few representatives from Yurist and Straightist churches even came. Eventually, nearly every chair at the table was filled, save for three.

"Are we ready to begin?" An impatient Rubian diplomat asked. "Nearly everyone's here. We might as well."

"No," Coronam hushed him. "We will not begin until they have arrived, especially since they are quite possibly the most important ones here."

"What is that supposed to mean?" A particularly belligerent Villainian called out. Austin sighed and stood to address her.

"We are missing Arkos," she said. "Who will provide a large portion of the troops and officers necessary for this act. We are missing Contramundi, who is in part responsible for this effort. And we are missing a third person," She beckoned at the empty seat opposite Coronam. "Who I am told is Coronam's honored guest. We're here to fight Inferno. Not each other."

The Villainian knit her fingers and fell into a dejected silence, while some of the leaders nodded, satisfied. Austin sat down with a not-insignificant feeling of pride, and Gwydion gave her an approving smile.

At last, the Arkos delegation arrived. Colonel Strike, dressed in a crimson officer's uniform, took the unoccupied seat directly across from Nitesco, while the other four Oligarchs stood behind him.

"Colonel Strike," Coronam said. "It's a pleasure to have you. Is General Zealander not in attendance?"

"No," Strike said, indignation in his voice. "He is back home, managing the mobilization. I will be representing Arkos in today's proceedings."

"Please, Colonel," Nitesco spoke up. "He meant no offense. All we want is to figure out our logistics and our plan."

"If we can't go a few hours without bickering, we have no hope against Inferno," Austin added. "Let's just try to be civil."

"Civil?" Strike asked, even more indignant. "I'm surprised that an upstart like you can sit there and speak of civility. What do you know about governance or, more importantly, the military? My nation is a proud nation of many honorable soldiers, and I will not have our dignity sullied by the insults of a commoner!"

"Watch your tongue, Oligarch," Gwydion gravely intoned. "May I remind you that both Nitesco and myself were born commoners? Because we were, and now look at us! You may have been born to be an officer, Strike, but don't forget that a commoner can do just as well."

"Enough!" Coronam yelled as he brought his fist down on the table. "If we turn on each other now, we are doomed. As a great man once said, we must all stand together, or we will all fall alone."

"Well said, my liege." The diplomats turned to see who had entered the room and saw that Cinder had returned, with a limping Contramundi in tow.

"I agree. Well said." Contramundi took a seat next to Coronam, wincing as he sat down.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," a gravelly voice echoed from behind them, and a man dressed in a mask and a deep green cloak walked in behind them. The Mask.

"The Mask!" An old Heroan diplomat stood up and drew his dagger. The Mask merely laughed him off.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. You've still got a few years left, I'd wager, and I'd hate to have to beat them out of you."

"Oh, good" Strike muttered. "The peasantry strikes back." Gwydion and Austin both glared at him.

"Is all you're good for mouthing off at common-borns, Strike?" Cinder asked apprehensively. "Because if it is, I see why Zealander's made you his bitch."

"What did you say?" Strike stood up and clenched his fists, while Coronam glared harshly at his spymaster. Governor Wingnut sat Strike back down in his chair while Nitesco turned toward the Mask.

"May I ask why you are here?" Nitesco said as the Mask took the empty seat across from Coronam. Even though the mask hid his face, Nitesco could tell the man was smiling beneath it.

"Because Coronam asked me to be here," the Mask said smugly. "I am his honored guest."

"Before you all tear into me," Coronam spoke up, noticing the accusatory glances at him. "You must know that we have the disadvantage. Inferno has the law. She has her supporters, she has her blackmailed allies, and she has the Church, as far as we can tell. The Mask can afford us some balance: black market weapons and materials for our army, spies and assassins for our intelligence divisions, and mercenaries if we really need them. I'm not too fond of this either, but we don't really have a choice if we want to survive more than a few months. His help can speed up mobilization and the war."

"Now that was well-said," the Mask remarked. "But I digress. You all go on with your little meeting. I'm just here to get estimates."

There was an uneasy silence in the room, and Nitesco sighed. "Well, we're off to a great start," he muttered under his breath. Louder, he continued, "But we've tarried enough. Let's begin with troop estimates…"

"The Renoran and Arkosian militaries will be able to mobilize more quickly than other nations," Coronam said. "But our numbers alone aren't enough to hold the region. Lords of Rubia, you must be as quick as you can to mobilize your armies, because our goal here is to strike quickly and concisely. We must weaken Inferno's foothold in Rubia as much as we can as quickly as quickly as we can before she shores up her defenses there."

"What about the other theatres of the war?" A Villainian nobleman asked. "What is the plan there?"

"Rubia is our main concern," Coronam said. "She has too few allies in Junipera to have any chance of surviving there. Villainia will be hotly contested, but our footholds there are too far from Inferno's heartland to be of any real strategic use. Their purpose is to weaken Inferno's strongholds there so she has nowhere secure to fall back on once we take her out.

"What of Heroa?" A Heroan man with a thick accent asked. "We have a couple strongholds there, but Inferno's hold there is very strong."

Coronam sighed. "Well, yes. That is a problem. We will make no offensives in Heroa; our footholds there are too far to the south. Mobilize your troops and bunker down. Defense should be your priority."

"How many troops do you think we have?" The man asked. "We can't outlast Inferno!"

"I can get you into contact with some mercenaries, if you'd like," the Mask said.

Colonel Strike scoffed. "Figures you'd find some way to profit off of this. Why are you even here?"

"To protect my investments," the Mask stated plainly. "It's just good business."

"Do you even care that we are trying to protect the entire Subreddit from a tyrant?" Strike asked, agitated.

The Mask laughed and kicked his feet up on the table. "Boy, if I had two fucks to give, I'd sell them at a profit. I'm not keen on pissing away what I've built on an ideological quibble. Be grateful I'm here to get you a head start on supplies and whatnot."

"Speaking of supplies," Coronam interjected, silencing Strike before he had a chance to fire back. "That forays well into our next presentation. Austin, Gwydion. I understand you have a presentation on this for us?"

"Yes, King," Austin said. "As with any operation of this scale, supply will be a major concern. We have a lot of soldiers, but we don't have the supplies to feed all of them for long. We'll need to make sure we keep our troops well fed by moving through friendly or fully occupied territory, and be sure not to overextend, lest our enemies encircle us." She pulled out a folded-up paper from her pocket and unfolded it, revealing a map of the Subreddit marked with several circles and X's. "Gwydion and I have looked at a few key locations that we'll need to secure if we want to completely uproot Inferno with minimal casualties."

One of the minor lords in attendance muttered, "I bet she doesn't understand half of those big words she's using." He and the man he was speaking to snickered.

Austin, with trained ears, heard this exchange. "Do you have a strategic suggestion, Baron?"

The baron went wide-eyed, suddenly the center of attention. "No," he said hastily, "None."

Austin folded her arms. "I didn't think so. This is an important meeting, Baron, and I would kindly ask that you don't disrupt it." She gestured to Gwydion. "Gwydion, would you like to elaborate on our troop movements?"

"Of course," he said. "We've identified several locations through each region that are vital for us to take, or at least hold. As for the path to Inferno specifically, I've identified the most convenient route. We will begin here, in Guns N' Roses. Our soldiers and Coronam's soldiers will march from two separate directions and meet here, at Monochrome."

"From there, we will take Lancaster next, which will allow us to hop across the river into the least-defended area of Crosshares territory. From there, we march on Inferno's private fortress, cut off her head, stick it on a pike and be done with this debacle. The other regions should fall in short order, and if not, I've identified similar strategies for each of them." Gwydion rolled up the map and set it aside as he finished the presentation. "Any questions?"

No hands went up, and Nitesco smiled.

"Very good," Nitesco said. "Now, we've gone over troop estimates, weapon estimates, timetables, finances, intelligence and campaign planning. What does that leave us?"

"That would leave, uh, leadership," Gwydion answered. Nitesco's shoulders slouched a bit. Deciding who would be the leader would be what would make or break the League.

"Okay," Nitesco said. "Any suggestions?"

Surprisingly, not everybody jumped at the chance to assume command of the League. Unsurprisingly, the Arkos Oligarchs raised their hands.

Admiral Bluewhale spoke up. "I propose that the Arkos Oligarchs assume command over the League."

"Are there any who second this motion?" Nitesco asked. No hands went up.

"Sorry," Nitesco said. The Admiral lowered his head in shame. "Any other suggestions?"

Coronam raised his hand. "I propose that I assume command of the League."

"Are there any who second this motion?" Several hands went up. Nitesco nodded.

"Any other suggestions?" He parroted. Two more hands went up: Contramundi and the Mask. Nitesco decided to ask Contramundi first.

"Contramundi. Your suggestion?"

Contramundi did his best to stand, but gave up and remained in his seat. "I propose that you, Nitesco, run the League."

"Ah. That's fine with me. Any supporters?" More hands went up, mostly Rubians. "Okay, I am now a contender." He sighed. "Mask?"

"Hold on," Strike spoke up. "This man is a criminal. Why are we even considering his opinion?"

"Because, boy, I'm funding half your damn war." The Mask sighed indignantly. "I vote that Austin assume command of the League."

Murmurs went through the diplomats. Austin sat frozen.

"Before we start raising hell," Gwydion said, "let's confirm it. Austin, do you accept the nomination?"

Did she accept? Should she? Austin looked to Gwydion for advice, a signal, some kind of help. She found no assistance in his face. Just sympathy, and the lingering question. She steeled herself, ignored the rapid beating of her heart, and answered.

"I accept the nomination," she declared. The commotion among the diplomats resumed.

Nitesco sighed once again. "Are there any who second this motion?" He asked hesitantly. To Austin's surprise, several diplomats raised their hands.

At this, both Coronam and Nitesco knit their hands together. No potential leader had a majority. Despite this, Nitesco decided to go ahead with the vote.

"All those in favor of—"

"Now just you wait!" A Juniperan man stood up. "What is that going to do? Nobody has the majority here. The only person to have a legitimate claim to leadership is Coronam!"

"Why is that?" A Rubian woman stood up. "Because he's Juniperan? He'll just make himself a new Inferno at the end of this!"

"This is why we need the girl!" A Villainian Presbyter exclaimed. "She's not a politician. She won't mire us in politics like this!"

"But she has no experience, fool!" Colonel Strike spoke up. "At least the others, bloodsuckers they may be, have some!"

"What do you mean, bloodsuckers?" Opifexa and Cinder asked in unison. Soon, the entire chamber devolved into meaningless white noise, diplomats and lord shouting at each other, some for no other reason than to say something. It was just like the Diet.

Coronam steepled his fingers. He had to bring them together. Yokei would've told him to try and inspire their trust, but clearly, that was beyond his current skillset. If they couldn't have trust, then tolerance would have to do.

"Stop!" Coronam yelled, and the conversation dimmed significantly. "Stop. I have a suggestion. Nitesco, Austin and I could, um…." He paused, trying to think of a solution. "We could co-lead."

The room went silent. Austin looked at Coronam, then at Nitesco. She shrugged.

"Should we put it to a vote?"

Nitesco cleared his throat. "All those in favor of co-leadership between myself, Coronam and Austin?"

Almost every hand in the room, even the stubborn Arkosians', went up.

Nitesco, Austin and Coronam looked at each other with some unease. "So," Coronam said. "That's it then?"

"Well, not quite," Nitesco said. "We still need a name for our organization."

"Oh, for—" Gwydion impatiently stood up and groaned loudly. "The Badaz League. We will now be known as the Badaz League."

"And why's that?" Opifexa asked.

"This is the Badaz manor," Gwydion said, making exaggerated gestures to the house around him, "Let's just call ourselves the Badaz League."

"Good enough for me," Contramundi said. "I just want to go back to my quarters. It's getting late."

Murmurs of agreement. Nitesco nodded. "Then we'll adjourn for today. The Badaz League will meet tomorrow to fine-tune our strategies."

"Hey," Austin said with a grin on her face. "That's pretty… Badaz?"

The joke got a few chuckles, but most of the people in the room ignored it. As the diplomats filed out, Nitesco placed a hand on Austin's shoulder.

"I thought it was funny." He smiled. "Come on. It's getting late."

"I suppose," Austin sighed. And so, they adjourned the first meeting of the Badaz League.