The Universal Order of NationsBoard

Your bright ideas always burn me.

The first session of the new Congress had ended two hours before, and, for the benefactors of the electoral winds, the victory was already stale. Away from the exuberant throng, away from the cameras, and away from the train of would-be sycophants whose names he could not yet remember, the newly-elected President Valley Shadow sighed with relief as he sat down to the first private meeting of his new administration, away from the prying eyes of both the public and the Chamber at large. Here only invited representatives held sway: newcomers with the highest vote totals in the recent election, for the most part, whose major prerequisite for entry was a professed desire for uniform economic policies and centralized political authority across Honorian space. This would be possibly—even probably—the most important meeting of Valley Shadow’s new presidency, which he hoped would establish the feasible path that would allow him to fulfill his election promises and achieve his political goals. However, with his election to President acquired with the votes of so many newcomers to Congress, Valley Shadow had yet to determine who among his new allies could be relied upon to see these plans through; while this meeting would help to establish that knowledge, it would also put the President’s entire agenda at risk, exposed as it was to unknown and unfamiliar opinions that Valley Shadow would be forced to take into account.

Black Inkwell, a known quantity whose grudging support had gained Valley Shadow a significant share of Marcher votes, sat at the circular table beside the President, letting his fingers run over the holographic projector built into the wood in a mix of anxiety and boredom. Behind Valley Shadow stood Tower’s Voice, the Honorian President’s ever-present sentry and emissary since the day of his arrival aboard the Lawgiver at the height of the Boethian War. Around them, the room began to fill with new faces and unfamiliar names. There, an arrogant swagger belied by quick and nervous eyes: Blooming Hill claimed Aruhn as his home, and had advertised his pro-centralization policy as a continuation of that Dominion’s famous stand against the Western March’s onslaught throughout Honorias Proper. There again, a businesslike stride, perfunctory nod, and thoughtful, considered gaze: Summer Gust was a resident of Inanius, having moved there after the debacle of Sadrith, and had campaigned on a promise to curb Marcher excesses to prevent the recurrence of refugee crises within Honorias at the hands of foreign interlopers, either overtly or covertly. To the side, a cautious, almost-fearful defensive stance complete with hostile glares and tightly-crossed arms: Here stood a newly-elected Marcher, Illustrious Descent, whose home in Holamayan was rumored to have been sold out from under him by angry local authorities after he led a protest made up of internationally-sourced laborers and students against the provocative marketing practices of Holamayan Seed Company. These representatives and others made their way into the conference room as Valley Shadow considered them, mingled with one another (and, more rarely, with the President they had thrown their support behind), and began to take seats around the table for themselves… for the most part, strangely enough, on the opposite side of the table from Valley Shadow and Black Inkwell, inexplicably leaving space between themselves and the veteran representatives to whom these newcomers had already given their support.

The last arrivals were the least expected, but perhaps the most important. The door to the room opened once more to reveal three admirals of Command, bedecked in the cloaks of their martial office, who entered only to come up short at the unorthodox seating arrangements. The first of them, the long-serving Glorious Advance, raised an eyebrow at Valley Shadow and dared to opine, <Am I to believe that your allies have deserted you already, President?>

Before Valley Shadow could find an answer, the businesslike Inanian—Summer Gust, the President had to remember this, Summer Gust was his name—replied to spare him the trouble: <Please forgive us for our discomfort, Admiral. We were expecting the President to have closer friends to sit by him. Is that not so?>

The President shook his head as the admirals walked cautiously by the politicians on the far side of the conference table to take the cushions set out nearer to Valley Shadow and Black Inkwell. <I have invited no one else to this meeting,> Valley Shadow replied. <Barring these delegates of Command, this room contains the power of Congress, encapsulated in our small number. We will set the direction for Honorian policy, for the next year at least. I hope you are as excited about this responsibility as I am.>

The representatives on the other side of the table eyed one another in surprise; whether or not they were wondering how troublesome they would be to one another as rivals in what Valley Shadow had effectively declared to be his cabinet, the President himself could not determine. One by one, they all nodded. Summer Gust went so far as to comment, <I’ll wait for results before I begin to feel excited, if you don’t mind.> A general sense of amusement from multiple representatives answered Summer Gust’s suggestion.

Valley Shadow accepted this with a nod. <I intend to see results as soon as we are in session tomorrow,> he assured his new allies. <Today is a day of priorities. The voters have two.>

The President nodded to Black Inkwell, who tapped the table and activated the holographic projector. Text appeared to hover over the table, visible from every angle: CONSOLIDATION AND CENTRALIZATION, followed by INTERNATIONAL FOCUS. Valley Shadow glanced around the table at his guests’ reactions, hoping for some evident eagerness from those who had been elected to office on the strength of these topics. He was somewhat disappointed to see very little visible reaction instead.

<The March,> the President began after a pause, <refuses to acknowledge Congress’s lawful authority. Its policies—rather, its lack of policy poses a variable to every piece of social or budgetary legislation brought before Congress. Its lax restrictions on immigration and foreign residency make mockeries of our attempts to maintain a census, collect taxes, or develop a singular position on any international matter. While the March acts outside of Congress’s control, Honorias remains disunited; while the March’s citizenry can change by the day, Honorias’s national interest and congressional policy will certainly change by the year, beholden to moneyed foreigners and factory-made people whose choice at the ballot is made according to others’ desires, not merely their own. It is our duty, according to the will of the electorate, to change this unfortunate state of affairs immediately.>

Valley Shadow turned his full attention to Black Inkwell, who took up the President’s cue. <We are here, essentially, to draft a new Peace with the March. Our dictation here will present a new vision of the March’s relationship with Honorias Proper and the conformist regions, particularly the Colonies of Inanius, which will hopefully bring the March into conformity likewise. A vote by Congress will formally replace the Zafirbel Peace with the terms we establish here, and the Dominions of the March will be made to comply with Congress’s will for the first time since the Closed Session. With our majority in Congress, such ratification will be a formality. The question becomes, then, just what this new Peace will entail. What terms will the March accept without conflict, and what terms must we enforce regardless of resistance? The President has his ideas and I have mine, so I will start with him and invite others at this table to contribute thereafter.>

At this point, Valley Shadow was becoming increasingly nervous about the lack of reaction from his purported allies across the table as he and Black Inkwell laid his major policy goals before them. Hiding his growing concern, the President pressed on with the agenda as Black Inkwell turned the conversation back to him: <First and foremost, we must implement restrictions on the March’s immigration and citizenship policies. We cannot continue to allow foreigners to vote, or to run, for national offices with only an easy-to-acquire residency to tie them to our national interests. We have no guarantee that such newcomers are not foreign agents; even if we could be sure of it, the arrival of so many foreign businessmen seeking money at Honorias’s expense has numerous parallels to the recent Jenayu situation, and I for one do not intend to see the March follow that path of… instability.>

The President’s emphasis prompted nods of agreement around the table, some more eager than others, but still no one commented. Valley Shadow glanced around, waiting for input, but after a moment of hesitation he simply continued. <We must also be prepared to battle with Marcher economic practice. Obviously,> he pressed, raising a hand to quell anyone who might simply ask him to move on from this topic, <we all know what problems the Marchers bring upon Honorias with their refusal to countenance regulation or oversight. This is an obvious statement, but how we are to challenge this practice is not so simple. We must develop policies relating to the March with the complete understanding that we will be doing battle with that same March, and all the authorities present within it, to implement our work. We must always remember that we act in the best interests of the March’s peoples—all of them, even those residents of foreign extraction, who have come to Honorias seeking a new home away from distant struggles that we must not invite to come here in their wake. As long as we are confident in this knowledge, and demonstrate that confidence in our actions, the Marchers themselves will be more likely to accept the good sense we are imparting, and will pressure their local governments to acquiesce to Congress’s authority. Therefore, we must commit ourselves fully to this course of action: We must develop strong policies, regardless of controversy, and we must advocate for and implement them with equal strength, regardless of resistance.>

<Hence the arrival of Command’s admirals, I would assume?> Summer Gust asked rhetorically.

<Command is represented here at my request, of course,> Valley Shadow replied. <We do not wish to escalate any confrontation in policy toward a military conflict. But I acknowledge that our purpose here is to void the Zafirbel Peace, and with no legal Peace, we must be prepared for a recurrence of war. The authority of Congress must be upheld in all parts of Honorias, and there is really only one means of upholding national preeminence over localities that refuse to acknowledge it. Such a recourse would be painful, but if the March refuses to accept its new condition—its proper condition—we must be prepared and resolute in pursuing that recourse to its conclusion.>

<The Honorian military must never be utilized against its own people,> heatedly declared Illustrious Descent—the Marcher, Valley Shadow belatedly remembered, whose neighbors might admittedly come to harm if Congress pursued a military solution. <Sharpness Everlasting started our last conflict, and his purposeful disinterest in civilian affairs has brought us to this point of difference now. Congress must not become a bloody aggressor in trying to rectify the actions of one dead traitor!>

That was neither the political interpretation of events that Valley Shadow wanted to disseminate nor the vote of confidence that the President demanded of anyone who he hoped would assist in implementing his policies over the coming year. He glanced over at the admirals present for the discussion to judge their reaction to Illustrious Descent’s insistence, and found irritation on every expression, though whether it was aimed at the President’s declaration of intent or the representative’s furious reaction was not easy to determine. Unsure of his standing among them, Valley Shadow turned his full attention back to Illustrious Descent and soothed, <The Honorian military will never be authorized to simply murder our citizens. Military force can be deployed to inconvenience rebels and would-be rebels without deadly assaults. Our aim would be profit limitation, aimed at those companies and Dominions that defy Congress’s legal standing—in any hypothetical case where any such defiance is noted.>

Illustrious Descent stared at Valley Shadow for a long moment, as if trying to decide if the President could be trusted, before jerkily nodding, his nerves on full display. Valley Shadow nodded back smoothly. <We must draft a new legal instrument governing the Western March’s place in Honorias and submit it for a vote simultaneously with our proposal to rescind the Zafirbel Peace. I will be relying on your assistance in writing that document, Representatives.>

Illustrious Descent still seemed leery, but the Aruhnian, Blooming Hill, nodded heartily alongside an agreeable Summer Gust. <Security at last!> he declared fervently.

Summer Gust was somewhat more reasonable as he asked, <What is our timetable?>

<We’ll need at least a week for the draft; it’ll almost certainly take longer, but perhaps the ancestors will bestow their wit upon us to ease the process,> Valley Shadow replied. <In the meantime, I will be testing Congress’s collective will on the matter. We all have a mandate to bring the March to heel, but there will certainly be colleagues whose willingness to fulfill their campaign pledges will have to be… reinforced. I am confident that we will have a successful vote within two weeks.>

The President turned an eyestalk toward Black Inkwell as the rest of his attention centered on the holographic topic headings floating above the conference table. <This leads us to the second item on our agenda,> he prompted.

Black Inkwell took over, as the two men had agreed earlier, motioning toward the bold words before them, INTERNATIONAL FOCUS. <Honorian foreign policy, as dictated by Distant Cliff for the last decade and a half, has in the last couple of years completely devastated our international reputation,> the representative began, his disgust for the situation obvious. <By attempting to keep Honorias out of the wider conflicts across the stars, Distant Cliff managed to isolate this country from every important diplomatic and economic partner that he did not already inherit from Yellow Ochre. By attempting to monopolize trade and unduly influence smaller ports while larger powers were busy, Distant Cliff only put us into conflict with the same larger nations he was too frightened to interact with in more pleasant days, many of whom once gave aid to Honorias in our own time of need. Thanks in part to the Western March’s general repulsiveness, but mostly to Distant Cliff’s ineptitude, Honorias has been humiliated on the international stage, where we are distrusted and held in contempt by the greater powers of the Orion Spur. And while our nation has stood away from the rest in a conscious effort to avoid messy entanglements, those nations willing to dirty their hands and soak their peoples in blood now attempt to redefine political and economic reality for everyone, including ourselves, without bothering to consider our opinions or ask for our advice. This is clearly against our national interests; even the businesses of the March, I believe, would agree that we must alter our international standing if our merchants are going to be taken seriously abroad. We must alter course.>

Black Inkwell looked at each representative in turn, with his eyestalks briefly adding the admirals of Command to his gaze. <The Spur is divided into two camps, surrounded by a confused mess of independent nations that, like us, are entirely ignored by the main bodies. In these two camps are to be found the most important economies and the most respected diplomatic agencies of the Spur. It is absolutely in our national interest, politically and economically, to choose one of these camps to declare our own. In light of recent events, and in deference to the choice made by the voters in the form of your election—and my own—that decision seems very clear. Zeikeutsyr and its allies are threats to the Spur’s peace; Zeikeutsyr and its allies are currently losing the territory they conquered when they began this destructive war all those years ago; and Zeikeutsyr in particular has planted its flag over the government of the closest thing we had to a neutral state in the South Spur, undermining our hopes for a serious neutral bloc to contrast the belligerents around us.>

<Cheng is in Tuvhalia,> one of the senior admirals, High Starburst, interjected with a scoff. The oft-repeated headline garnered a mix of irritation and amusement among the rest of the table, but Black Inkwell simply ignored it.

<We all campaigned to bring Honorias in line with the Equisians and Elysians. President Valley Shadow will be presenting legislation authorizing our ambassadors abroad to negotiate for Honorias’s inclusion in the anti-Zephyri alliance as quickly as possible; whether that means a series of bilateral agreements or a multinational treaty will be determined by the work of our ambassadors and negotiators as that matter progresses. Command will be required to plan for military action against Austria and Zeikeutsyr with all speed, especially since we will likely need to demonstrate our willingness to fight with more than words before we are taken seriously at the negotiation table.> Black Inkwell’s eyes all turned to the senior admirals in the room, all of whom looked uncomfortable. <Congress will provide whatever resources you require to be ready for this grim test.>

Summer Gust raised an eyebrow. <You intend to work quickly, President,> he complimented, though the flavor of his thought was tinged with some doubt as to the success of this future plan.

<We must work quickly to build the foundations of our policies before a new election cycle threatens to delay or reverse them,> Valley Shadow answered firmly. <We are not guaranteed to remain in power after this year; we cannot squander this chance. We were elected to carry out the duties we promised to carry out, and that we must do at all speed, while the people remain behind us.>

Senior Admiral Glorious Advance leaned forward to catch the President’s attention. <Command has been stretched to its limit in recent years,> he claimed. <We have been running at a slightly-increased budget dating from the economic crisis of the Boethian War. Even now, funded by that same budgetary model forced on us by the austerity measures of the time, we have been tasked with repairing our ships damaged by the war or other activities, constructing new ones to replace those entirely lost, training a new generation of officers and crews to take the place of the honored dead, and to continue the interrupted construction of multiple tower installations across Honorian space—and now, of course, we are asked to construct Tower Ceres from nothing in the Redas System, being entirely unable to task more resources and manpower to this mission than we already have done. Distant Cliff gave us promises, but his lackeys gave us minimal support—as you know well, President Valley Shadow, having been on the committee overseeing the project for so long. We’re in no shape to defend Honorias against a determined attack, and certainly not to make an attempt against Zeikeutsyr or Austria.>

<What will change that?> asked Valley Shadow immediately.

<Funds, obviously,> Glorious Advance answered. <We need to increase our material purchases to stockpile resources for construction and repair of ships and installations; we need to increase the manpower available to work on this construction; we need to increase the number of Honorians under arms, both those in current service and in a trained reserve capacity; we need to increase the number of recruits we can effectively train in a standard period of time; we need… we need to pay for the material resources, the higher number of men on our payroll, the higher wages demanded by new recruits and existing soldiers who might otherwise decide that the danger of fighting a war is not worth the compensation they’re promised, and even the increased number and quality of accountants and administrative personnel that these other increases will inevitably require to keep track of it all. Command needs money, and a free hand to deploy it as changing circumstances require.>

The President’s expression likely betrayed his satisfaction at this response. <I will be happy to advocate for your needs and requirements on the Chamber floor,> Valley Shadow promised, already looking forward to the opportunity to humiliate certain representative colleagues who had blocked similar measures in the past, in particular in legislation focused on the so-called Redas Expansion. <With our majority, I am confident that we will succeed in bringing Command exactly what it asks for.>

<With respect, President Valley Shadow,> interrupted Representative Illustrious Descent, <I do not believe that a majority of representatives will unite to empower Command to conduct war at its own discretion, especially if it will potentially turn its attention to enforcing Congress’s authority over the Western March.>

Valley Shadow stilled, as Black Inkwell turned his narrowed eyes toward his fellow Marcher. <You promised Honorias that you would vote to end the March’s autonomy,> the President argued, his thoughts softly ghosting over the minds of his audience. <You were elected on that promise. The Dominions, the Colonies, the Fortress Worlds… all of these places entrusted their representation to you on the basis of that promise. Do you refuse to fulfill it?>

Illustrious Descent—a newcomer to Congress, Valley Shadow reminded himself once again, but now wielding that ignorance of his place as a weapon, refusing to be overawed by the office of the President or the person of the veteran representative who held it—straightened his shoulders and held Valley Shadow’s gaze. <Congress can bring the March into the fold without imposing a military regime over Marcher Dominions. There are alternatives, and it is our duty as Honorians to utilize them. Congress will surely agree.>

<Congress will surely remember the horrors of unrestricted Marcher autonomy, turned against the whole of the country,> Valley Shadow shot back, <and whatever horrors the representatives will remember, they will know that equal if not greater horrors await an unrestricted March fueled by the money and political interests of foreign interlopers. The March is not merely a frustration, friends, but a real and potent threat to Honorian sovereignty and security—and it has gladly elected local authorities in the most recent election who not only intend to maintain this impossible status quo, but who have made no secret of their own foreign extraction and interests!>

The senior admirals watching the confrontation quickly abandoned their professional postures, leaning back, crossing their arms, and generally radiating extreme displeasure at the antics of Honorias’s elected leaders. Swiveled eyestalks kept the whole room under their close scrutiny, in addition to gauging the reactions of their fellow officers as the military’s standing and reputation, in addition to its continued operations, came under attack from a representative initially considered to be a friend to Command and to Congress’s monopoly on force in Honorias. This meeting was not going the way that the senior admirals had believed it would, or that Valley Shadow had been certain it would. Rather, what had been one of the most convincing presidential majorities in living memory was revealing itself to have been at best a misunderstanding, and at worst a complete sham.

Illustrious Descent raised an eyebrow at the admirals’ scrutiny, but otherwise ignored them. <The Dominions of the March will obey Honorian law, or else those Dominions will forfeit Honorian citizenship and all the protection that entails,> the representative stated. <Beyond that, what more can we do but cause more destruction where there has already been so much bloodshed?>

Senior Admiral High Starburst scoffed and interjected, <The March has been waiting for the day when Congress would voluntarily cut it loose.>

<That outcome would be disastrous for more reasons than a mere loss of territory,> Black Inkwell objected, but it was Valley Shadow’s sharp rebuke that caught the room’s attention:

<That will not be allowed to happen.>

The President was on his feet, looming over the table in a fury as he brought his fist down with a slam. <You would entertain their independence?> he demanded. <You would betray not only the voters who brought you to this table, but every Loyalist soldier who shed his blood under alien suns to beat back the Boethian madness?!>

<I promised peace to the people of Honorias, President,> replied Illustrious Descent, his nervousness now evaporated, his own anger plain to see. <I think you’ll find that many of our colleagues made similar promises, and will not countenance legislation that will surely send us to war against our own… again.>

<I’ll vote for it,> snapped Blooming Hill without hesitation, the Aruhnian glaring at the Marcher on his side of the table in clear distrust.

A quarter of the table rose as one, pointing fingers at the President and at one another as their thoughts jumbled into incomprehension. Valley Shadow and Black Inkwell turned their eyestalks toward each other in dismay as they stared at the scene, now fully aware that the coming year would be nothing short of a battle fought on and off the floor of the Chamber of Congress. This was not the decisive electoral victory that Valley Shadow had hoped it would be, nor would it bring relief to the voters who had cast ballots on the basis of securing the Western March from foreign interference, and from itself.

Senior Admiral High Starburst also rose to his feet, throwing his arms in the air and slamming his hooves onto the tabletop to garner the room’s undivided attention. <Equis!> he pushed into the minds of his stunned audience. <Equis, and Elysium! Can we agree on them? Are we going to let the factions go on as they are, or will we do our part to end it?>

The representatives, slowly recovering their wits from the brink of riot, looked uneasily at one another, but several eagerly nodded their heads, and the rest seemed willing to follow their lead. High Starburst nodded sharply, before turning to the President. <I suggest starting with that and moving forward, President.>

Valley Shadow scowled. <The electorate has willed that this government put an end to Marcher autonomy and foreign interference therein,> he objected with a scoff. <Most of Congress’s representatives share my view, or claimed to when faced with the public vote. I will bring this package of foreign and domestic legislation to the vote together, as it must be in order to be smoothly implemented across Honorias. Then we will see if Congress shares my view, or Representative Illustrious Descent’s.>

<And I will be certain to have a draft proposal for you to submit to Congress’s vote relating solely to our authorization of negotiations with Equis and its allies, to be provided in the event of a failed vote, President Valley Shadow,> Representative Summer Gust replied mildly, challenge in his expression. <It’s always better to be safe—>

<If legislation authorizes us to act against anyone else, we will need the funds to do it,> snapped Glorious Advance pointedly. <Restrict them to anti-Zephyri activity if you wish, but I assure you now that Command will not put up with further uncompensated stretches in its budget and resources.>

Summer Gust stared at the senior admiral for a long moment before bowing his head in assent. <I will make sure of it,> he promised.

Valley Shadow stared in shock at the other man’s audacity. <I will remind you all, Representatives, that you voted for me to lead you,> he set out at last. <If you refuse me now, and step away from the policy decisions you have espoused throughout your election campaigns, you will have established a precedent for the shortest and most useless presidency in this history of this country.>

Summer Gust turned his main eyes to the President and replied, <I’m certain we will figure it all out together.>

<Or else we will all figure out our standing quite separately,> added Black Inkwell, almost shaking in his own fury.

Valley Shadow held Summer Gust’s gaze for one more long moment before striking his hoof on the floor. <We’re done here,> he declared. <End this nonsense or reveal yourselves to be frauds on the floor of the Chamber. I will see you all there.> His eyes narrowed. <Get out.>

Summer Gust smoothly got to his feet and bowed his head. <I will see you there,> he promised, and turned to leave. One by one, glaring at the President and at each other as they did so, every other representative on the far side of the table rose and departed likewise, until only Valley Shadow, Black Inkwell, and the senior admirals of Command remained… under Tower’s Voice’s watchful eye.

Glorious Advance stared at the door and tried to ignore the President’s sinister emissary standing beside it, instead focusing on the disaster he had just witnessed. <So much for clarity,> he mused.

Valley Shadow ignored the comment. <Command will be prepared to rain fire on the Western March the second the Marchers begin any attempt at secession, or fall under overt foreign influence contrary to Honorian national interests,> he ordered. <The vote will be a formality, or else it will be evidence of treason at the highest level of government. Either way, your duty to Honorias is clear.>

<With what for money?> demanded Senior Admiral High Starburst.

<I will fund your efforts myself if I have to,> snapped the President with a glare. <Just do it!>

All of the admirals gave Valley Shadow a long look at his outburst, but the President returned the look without a flinch. Eventually, Glorious Advance nodded. <By your command, President.>

Valley Shadow nodded sharply. <Good.>

We’ll soon find out who we are, alone in the dark.

When the people ask questions that are not in their own best interest, they should simply be told to keep their minds on their labor, and leave matters of the state to the state.

The uniforms were new – made in the March, suitably enough, though they had originally been set to ship to Aruhn for use in an online drama whose continued production was now riddled with growing doubts – and some of them even fit the mercenaries who had been selected to fill them. They were impressive and intimidating, which was exactly the combination that Mitta Company’s command staff wanted to display; they were also demonstrably not uniforms approved by Command for its bipedal servicemembers. When Mitta was called upon to solve a situation, particularly in Dagon, the command staff wanted the locals to know who had come to deal with them: not Congress or a potentially-sympathetic Command, but the bought services of the Mitta Company, whose interest was in preserving the unofficial plutocracy that now governed the Dominion of Dagon from top to bottom, and directed events in much of Marcher space beyond the jurisdiction of other Dominions’ local authorities. Violence in Dagon would end when the most disruptive members of the largely-disappointed population were either reeducated or replaced outright, avoiding any preventable disruptions to supplies, trade, and other economic necessities in the Western March.

Unsurprisingly, the Mitta Company’s investors now included a number of former investors in the previous attempt by Marcher business executives to utilize armed forces for their own gain, whose insistence on a totally-compliant labor force remained unchanged despite Honorable Seyda’s horrifying underestimation of Jenayu’s capabilities for resistance.

All of this meant that the factories and ports of Dagon were busier than ever, producing and shipping goods throughout the March and the wider Spur. Likewise, in Holamayan, those companies connected with Dagon’s lines of supply and demand gained extra business, and extra profits, on the back of Dagon’s enforced productivity. In the latter Dominion, this boom proved popular among the laborers themselves, who were beginning to see bonuses for their increased workload, and not entirely objectionable by the mayoral council, whose concern at the presence of mercenaries in the March and the loss of democratic control in Dagon was tempered by their awareness of the international community’s opinion of the Dominion of Holamayan, the nature of its most important and well-known company, and the actions that pro-regulation voters had called on their representatives to take in the most recent election, and would do again in the next. Holamayan’s mayor was not yet willing to give up his own power to a businessman in Dagon, and his political supporters were wealthy enough to at least put up a fight if First Senses pushed the issue in that respect, but, so long as the profits kept rolling in, the two Dominions each found the actions of the other to be perfectly acceptable.

While all of this was going very well for the Mitta Company in Dagon, and to a lesser extent in Holamayan, the authorities of other Dominions in the Western March were far more resistant to the arrival of private military contractors in their space. Several elected officials in the Dominion of Drethan, a smaller and less-influential port, sent letters to Dagon expressing their dismay at the arrival of the non-local – even foreign, by their terminology – mercenary forces into their system, intimidating the trade routes that had previously been open for all traffic and posing a clear threat to Drethan’s autonomy (specifically because Drethan had been lukewarm on the subject of Marcher autonomy and had absolutely no intention of separating from the rest of Honorias). Officers in the fortress worlds were even more vociferous, informing Dagon’s leaders that mercenary ships appearing in Arys, Arano, Odirniran, and Randas would be fired upon without warning or any consideration to their ostensible loyalties.

Obviously the mayoral council of Dagon could not offer a reply, as the mercenaries in question had not been hired by them. The mayor’s unofficial queries to First Senses, however, explained enough for Dagon’s elected officials to express some private concern – among one another, and certainly not to First Senses himself, given the control he held over the Dominion’s streets at the present moment. Meanwhile, the Mitta Company began a systematic campaign of harassment against the fortress worlds, rerouting Honorian-origin traffic away from their planetary destinations and detaining vessels launching from the ground before they could leave the system. While the fortresses were self-sufficient enough to survive this kind of treatment, and foreign-origin traffic was left alone for fear of drawing an international military response, First Senses wanted to make the lives of the entrenched fortress-dwellers as difficult and expensive as possible for as long as he was prevented from simply uprooting them. In contrast, Mitta took no further action against the helpless Drethan; its leaders knew that their survival relied on their cooperation, and First Senses was confident that merely the threat of police action against the Dominion’s people would be enough to keep the mayoralty in line.

The fortune that made all of this police activity possible was still intact, despite the heavy draw imposed by the Mitta Company’s employment. First Senses was fabulously wealthy in his own right, of course, but the continued support of the Bank of Western Honorias – purposely unpublicized, though a determined investigator could probably discover it – made his personal contribution seem like a pittance in comparison. The Bank itself had a reach and customer base far beyond the March, and its executives’ public decision to disavow the Bank’s Marcher assets attracted impressed customers in Honorias Proper in response… none of whom realized that the Bank’s Marcher branches were now operated by a local competitor led by the very same shareholders. Combined with the interest of other high-profile companies and large-scale Marcher employers, some of which was more or less public knowledge (such as the involvement of Holamayan Seed Company, which had very few concerns about its reputation among members of the public or the international community), there was no danger of First Senses or his associates running out of money to pay for the continued support of Congress’s representatives or the direct services of the Mitta Company.

Indeed, First Senses had enough money available, and enough need for further military support, that he was already putting out inquiries to Ezomimi and other known hubs of mercenary recruitment… and, in response, Over-Captain Mitta was inquiring with international suppliers for additional ships and weapons to improve her company’s capabilities to head off the threat of competition.

Overall, the sun shone brightly on the Marcher situation as First Senses saw it. He possessed an unassailable authority over the wealthiest Dominions of the Western March without being bound by the regulations of elected authority; his financial situation remained stable, and even improving, so that this authority would not disappear with those who enforced it; and those who contested his right or his ability to take power in this part of Honorias were quickly learning that they had no ability to resist him. Yet, despite all of this, there remained a sense of urgency, like the sunshine was imminently threatened by glowering clouds from all directions. By First Senses’ money, Congress had so far forgiven his transgression, but in so doing the politicians and their buyer alike had well and truly stirred the wrath of the Honorian electorate. There would be no repeat performance: When the next Congress assembled aboard the Lawgiver, it would be composed of virulent anti-Marchers who could prove to a skeptical populace that their determination to punish secessionists was no election-time lie, whose anger at their predecessors’ perfidy would override any considerations about the war in Zeikeutsyr, which was itself begun foolishly by public vote at a time when the admirals of Command were prepared, not to enter the greater conflict, but to corral the Dominions of the March. Such representatives would surely restart the Boethian War, regardless of other considerations; unlike Command, then, First Senses and the new authority of the Western March had to prepare for the worst as quickly and thoroughly as possible.

He had a year, a lot of friends, and quite a lot of money. First Senses liked his chances.

This is our moment to shine.

Come write me a letter!

To Valley Shadow, President of Congress: a Private Communication from the Mayoralty of Piran:

Greetings to you, and you alone, President Valley Shadow; we know of no one else we can trust.

As Congress has betrayed you, and betrayed the voting public, so too has it betrayed the Dominion of Piran. We are a Marcher Dominion, easily forgotten among the great names of Dagon and Holamayan, easily ignored by the Lawgiver and the people of Honorias Proper; and while I would never accuse you of ignorance, President, I hope you will not take offense to my work relating our small community’s history. We were founded before the Closed Session as a hopeful exercise in trade with the Ordasi; with these people entering into union with the Newmanian Al’terran state, our prospects became poorer by default, at a time when aid from Congress was impossible and attention from Tower Vahhopayya was extremely inadvisable. Our survival then depended on fortuitous investment from abroad: the Newmanians, whose interest grew until it died by the reputation of other, better-known Marcher institutions. Thereafter we were rescued by the Star League, by Silberfluss, and by such others that could overlook our unfortunate and unwilling association with the likes of the Dominion of Holamayan and our previous submission to the arms of Sharpness Everlasting. We have done all in our power to please these investors, who have helped us through very difficult times and have consequently, rightly, reaped the same rewards that we have enjoyed. With this investment, we were content.

Yet still, we are condemned by the associations of our founders. We are a Marcher Dominion; moreover, we are an Honorian Dominion. Trade agreements struck by the former administration of President Distant Cliff, combined with enterprises established in and funded by the Western March, have caused deep offense among our trade partners abroad. Both sought to profit from the continuation of the Tuvhalian regime of Chen En Enri, and struck hard lines against cooperation with the common people of Tuvhalia, particularly those that had suffered under the Empire of Derflekktagen, and those who sought to resist the imperial influence of Cheng I Sen. Honorian wealth has furthered the aims of warmongers, and Piran, as an Honorian and Marcher installation, suffers the same consequences dealt to the likes of Dagon and Holamayan, whose greater wealth demands greater punishments according to the calculations of our former investors and trade partners.

Piran stands alone in a spit of Honorian territory long forgotten by its founders and its overriding authority. We entreat you, President Valley Shadow, to remember us now. We are Marchers ignored by Marcher authorities, well aware that the divide that grows between Dagon and the Lawgiver increases every day. We entreat you, as we cannot and will not entreat the mercenaries of Dagon, to rescue us from this ambiguity.

By our own decree, we reject the label of Dominion of the March. This, we hope, satisfies the law. We are with you; we hope that you are likewise with us. Let us go forth together, Honorians all, toward a more glorious future.

Sincerely written:

Gathered Happiness

Mayor

_ _ _ _ _ _

To Congress: A Public Communication from the Fortress World of Arano:

Your fleets are absent and your politicians ramble about foreign stars. Meanwhile, mercenaries have taken to our space, and threaten our free association with Dominions of our choosing and with nations abroad. Arano will resist to the best of its ability. If we are truly Honorian, you will assist our efforts. And if you repudiate us, let it stand as a warning to every inconvenient place that claims the citizenship of Honorias.

Piran, Salothan: Watch and learn.

I am:

Sevas of the First Batch

Commander, Defense Line Prime

Arano

This is where President Valley Shadow’s strength will disappear.

President Valley Shadow has the floor, proclaimed the computer of the Chamber of Congress as the doors closed to begin the day’s session. President Valley Shadow has the floor.

The President stood from behind his desk at the head of the Chamber, looking out at a sea of attentive faces and wondering who among them would turn on him first today. <Representatives of Honorias,> he began, <I rise today to report on the war.>

A rumble of common thought rippled through the Chamber, seconded by nods and a brief outbreak of vocal assent given by those with the voice boxes to allow for it. Valley Shadow’s personal reports on the war had become, by this point, a reasonably entertaining way to spend a few minutes of every other session or so, and the positive news of all these reports meant that the representatives present to hear them were primed to spend a happy day in the Chamber whenever they appeared. The President nodded to the most expressive representatives in a friendly way, forcing himself to conceal his ever-present dislike of the people who had sabotaged his administration from the outset to enter a war against a foreign power without domestic unity and support. <As ever,> he summarized, <all is well, at least in general. Senior Admiral Stinging Glass makes his way through Isauria in pursuit of the Zephyri garrison fleet, inflicting defeats upon its commander and embarrassments upon its overall director, the Governor of Isauria, Aurus Adeni. Ground combat on Biotia continues at a crushingly-slow pace, but our superiority in the system at large is unquestioned and, barring external interference, impossible to overturn. As long as we remain cautious and diligent, Biotia will be ours in a matter of time.>

Brief applause, including the stamping of hooves, at least showed the Chamber’s continued agreement on the slow and steady, safe and fun approach to Honorian victory on ground that was inevitably going to fall anyway. At least Valley Shadow didn’t have to worry about pointed questions from his fellow representatives on that score. He acknowledged the applause with a brief wave, therefore, and moved on. <Evvia has proven more difficult to control from the ground, from the perspective that we must differentiate between combatants and civilians in our operations. Of course, our soldiers are up to this task, but they put their lives at greater risk by incorporating this extra layer of caution – not for themselves, but for their potential enemies. I can confidently inform this Chamber that we are in control of the planet’s primary urban centers, including the levers of government in the province that the Zephyri saw fit to leave in civilian hands. Two sessions ago, I announced that our forces had entered Sardavar; I can now announce that the Isaurian Diet is in our hands, building, bureaucracy, and Chengist legislators all!>

More applause broke out – self-congratulatory, self-righteous, and utterly unnecessary as far as Valley Shadow was concerned. The President maintained his cheerful facade regardless, knowing that his report and the Chamber’s collective reaction would only help his election chances the following year. Even that wasn’t enough to give him the patience to outlast the representatives before him, however, and soon enough he forestalled them with raised arms. <I have more news!> he declared. <In light of the advances I have related to you all, our officers have been approached by representatives of the enemy commander, who acts on behalf of the Chengist Adeni. I am happy to report on this matter that the good Governor fears for his skin, and so comes to us with a proposal for his own surrender – but!> he added sharply, for already the Chamber was filled with a renewed frenzy that would not abate without his interference. <But Adeni’s terms are incompatible with our stated goals, and are moreover lenient unto himself and his officers to such an unreasonable degree as to make the proposal impossible to credit. Nonetheless, we should be cheered by the knowledge that our enemy has acknowledged his defeat! Victory in Isauria is at hand; soon, our forces will move beyond this province and take their places on the advancing battle line, bringing the war to the orbit of Zephyrinja itself!>

More applause erupted despite Valley Shadow’s best efforts, but now the Chamber computer chimed multiple times to acknowledge the requests of several representatives to take the floor once the President yielded it; the timer for him to do so now began to run. Fortunately for Congress’s business, Valley Shadow had already finished his prepared statements, and, with one eyestalk turning toward the conspicuous timer on the wall, he declared, <I yield the floor to my colleagues,> and returned to his haunches, pressing a button on his desk to inform the computer that he no longer held the floor.

The computer’s timer disappeared, replaced by its first selection: Representative Illustrious Descent has the floor. Representative Illustrious Descent has the floor.

The representative in question, whose actions had already caused such trouble for Valley Shadow over the past several months, rose to his feet with his customary aggression. No longer an ignorant newcomer, Illustrious Descent nonetheless retained his underlying brash nature as a useful tool in debates against his critics, and more specifically against the President who still held his vote for leadership. His question exemplified how his usual behavior had been tempered to fit his aims, at least when he had a point to make. <President Valley Shadow, you give us news of our enemy’s proposed surrender but refuse to elaborate on it, except to claim that it is beneath our notice. Is that not a decision for Congress to make in session? What are these terms, President?>

Illustrious Descent returned to his cushions as Valley Shadow rose again. <The terms are that we allow the Chengist Adeni to declare Isauria’s independence from Zeikeutsyr under his continued and uninterrupted leadership, and to permit him to hold his armed forces as they currently stand so that his Isaurian government may join the Coalition as a co-belligerent. I have rejected these terms without further negotiation; as you all know by now, Senior Admiral Stinging Glass has Aurus Adeni’s forces on the run, and we would do well to let our brave men in the field do their work without our meddling.>

Representative Bubbling Waters has the floor, the computer declared.

Here was the veteran representative once more, having eased his way to reelection by choosing the campaign promises of least resistance; he had been no less shocked than President Valley Shadow to discover that almost no one else making those same promises had meant to keep them. Being tainted by association had made Bubbling Waters bolder and brasher than he had ever been before, knowing that he had a very short time until the next election to separate himself and his reputation from the mass of fraudulent representatives that had been elected to Congress beside him. <President, do we have an estimate for how much longer it will take to bring Adeni to justice? Does he travel with his daimyokantai, or is he elsewhere?>

Valley Shadow rose to his feet at the computer’s prompting and answered honestly, <Unfortunately, we are unsure. Senior Admiral Stinging Glass pursues the Zephyri daimyokantai as a matter of Isauria’s security, but we are all very hopeful that its capture or destruction will result in the end of Adeni, or else the firm knowledge of his whereabouts. That is all the information I can provide at this time, though my administration is constantly and diligently seeking more.>

The Chamber seemed to rumble with psionic unrest at this admission of ignorance, but the President ignored it and returned to his cushions, acknowledging Bubbling Waters’ nod of acceptance as he did so. The computer’s next announcement only increased the level of tension, however: Representative Summer Gust has the floor. Representative Summer Gust…

The Inanian businessman got to his own feet and nodded, not to the President, but to Bubbling Waters; the latter’s tail mirrored the President’s as it twitched uneasily. <Thanks to my fellow representative’s inquiry, Congress is aware that we do not know Aurus Adeni’s location, nor do we have a timetable for the elimination of his daimyokantai. Nonetheless, we are now expected to fulfill our obligations according to the Treaty of Coalition that you, President, sent your emissary Tower’s Voice to sign on Honorias’s behalf: We must send our fleets into the farther provinces of Zeikeutsyr according to an Elysian timetable, we must defeat whatever resistance we find there without setback or delay, and we must assume occupational control over Isauria in the aftermath. We cannot accomplish these things if Adeni remains at large, but we cannot guarantee that he will be caught or killed before our time runs out. President Valley Shadow, I propose that we should give Aurus Adeni’s terms of surrender our full consideration, and put it to a vote of this Congress to determine if we wish to prolong this unnecessary conflict for any longer than it must be fought!>

Valley Shadow stomped hard as he got back to his feet to answer the representative’s charge. <We have entered into this Coalition,> he began, <precisely because we are opposed to the continuation of the political movement originated and propagated by Cheng I Sen, in which our opponent Adeni rose to his present position! We are opposed to the hypocrisy of a leader who declares the creation of a republic, only to reinstate for her own benefit the throne and crown that she once overthrew. We are opposed to the spread of war throughout the international community, whose oppressive reach has brought our friends and allies to the brink of collapse, whose destructive tendrils have brought about the deaths of millions and the dissolution of anything resembling a rational economy, and whose insidious intentions are nothing short of the self-aggrandizement of one woman above the whole Orion Spur! My administration has held its singular focus throughout negotiations with our Coalition partners to eliminate Chengism wherever it is found, to prevent the rise of another maniacal general, or another populist politician> – here the President’s eyes, all four of them, swept across the Chamber with a narrowed gaze – <who comes to his people with promises of glory and spoils at the expense of all others, including our own Republic of Honorias. Aurus Adeni is a Chengist of the first rank, a product of her arrival in Isauria, a beneficiary of her victories there and elsewhere, and a provincial governor whose office would not exist as such without the application of Zephyri atrocities against the people he now purports to lead. My administration has no intention of acknowledging the legitimacy of Adeni’s governorship, and we absolutely refuse to let him keep it. That is my answer to your proposal, Representative.> The President returned to his cushions, and the computer’s registry of questions and proposals lit up like a beacon.

Unfortunately, the next representative chosen to hold the floor was one of those who had only just entered a question for the President’s consideration, in direct response to what Valley Shadow had declared to Summer Gust. <President Valley Shadow, regardless of your objections to the proposal, I second the motion.>

The President’s expression could have melted Sadrith, especially as a psionic rumble of approval passed through the minds of the assembled representatives. <The proposal,> he acknowledged in a fury as soon as the computer returned the floor to him, <has been made and seconded. I hereby instruct the computer to tally a vote on the motion for this Congress to accept the terms of surrender for Aurus Adeni, as put to Honorias by the same Aurus Adeni, enemy of this country.> Valley Shadow put action to his words, pressing the requisite keys to inform the computer of his actions, followed after a moment by the firm strike of another key, this time to register his own vote of nay.

The screen on the wall once again displayed a conspicuous, and some might claim ominous, timer. No more than twenty seconds elapsed before the timer, still several minutes away from reaching zero, disappeared with a chime: Every representative in the Chamber had registered a vote. And the result…

President Valley Shadow, shaking with fury, climbed to his feet again. He let his eyes stray to the far wall, opposite his own podium, where the doors to the Chamber separated the legislature’s duties from the prying eyes of the general public, at least until the end of each session. How he longed to be on the other side of those doors now. <The motion carries,> he declared, absolutely refusing to gaze upon the assembled representatives whose votes had condemned his administration’s negotiations with allies by giving untoward leniency toward its enemies. <Honorias hereby declares peace with Aurus Adeni, Zephyri Governor of Isauria, and welcomes his assistance in our continued war against his chief benefactor, Cheng I Sen.> He stomped his front hoof again, this time ceremonially, before continuing without pause, <By convention, a motion having passed against the strong counsel of the President and confounding the designs of his administration, I hereby resign from this office with immediate effect.>

Another press of a button, and the Chamber’s computer displayed a red and flashing alert that proclaimed the office of President of Honorias to be empty in the midst of his expected term, an emergency situation as far as the designers of the computer (and the architects of Honorian democracy) were concerned. Even as Valley Shadow vacated the podium set aside for the President’s use, seeking the single unused desk in the Chamber that was allotted to the sitting President in case this very event occurred, the computer chimed almost a dozen times as various representatives requested the floor to nominate their favored candidate for the office. Even as more requests were registered, the computer began to call upon those who had already claimed their time on the floor, one by one.

Valley Shadow was reelected to the presidency by a margin of sixteen to one.

_ _ _ _ _ _

By order of Congress, the person known as Aurus Adeni, whom we have thus far pursued as a criminal, is to be considered a friend to and peaceful collaborator with the Republic of Honorias, and is to retain all the rights of leadership and liberty that have characterized his erstwhile position as Zephyri Governor of Isauria on the sole condition that he make himself and his resources, including but not limited to the Thirteenth Daimyokantai and the bureaucratic instruments of the Zephyri Province of Isauria, available to Honorian officials in the continued effort to defeat the forces of the so-called Republic of Zeikeutsyr and, in particular, the person of Cheng I Sen…

The communications officer aboard the Umbra took this most recent message from the Lawgiver as stoically as any other he had received in the weeks since the deployment of the recently-renamed Capital Expeditionary Force. He made no effort to inform his fellow bridge officers about the astounding nature of the message, and merely requested permission from the ship’s captain to take a personal message to Senior Admiral Stinging Glass in his quarters; soon enough, his deputy had taken his place, and he was halfway to the senior admiral’s door. The aforementioned senior admiral met him on his own way up to the bridge. <Senior Lieutenant, what news from the Lawgiver?>

<Only this, sir.>

There was a long pause. Then Stinging Glass’s tail blade smashed into the bulkhead behind him. <Congress is an assembly of traitors, Lieutenant,> he declared. <We have followed this poor counsel to war, and soon we will follow it to our latest damnation.> He snorted and stormed off in the direction of the bridge, with the communications officer falling in beside him. <Send word to our fleet to call off further pursuit and prepare to rendezvous at the Transisesen border for our push into Zeikeutsyr Proper. Inform the fleet that I will determine the disposition of our occupation force before final departure, and withhold those forces necessary to keep Isauria in line.>

The communications officer nodded along grimly. <Yes, sir.>

If this body is not capable of action, I suggest new leadership is needed.

Frontier, Conquest, and Accommodation

<Be welcome aboard the Umbra, flagship of the Capital Expeditionary Force in Isauria. We are… pleased to meet you in person, Governor Adeni.>

Senior Admiral Stinging Glass glared down at the party of disembarking officials whose shuttle had touched down in his battleship’s hangar only minutes before. In the lead was the man himself, Aurus Adeni, long red hair draped over the shoulder of his Zephyri naval dress uniform, complete with insignia proclaiming his affiliation with the Province of Isauria and the Makarian Cult of Cheng I Sen, and a chain of office denoting his role as Governor by order of the Emperor and the Atsumaru. His expression remained friendly enough, regardless of Stinging Glass’s clear hostility, as he strode forward at the head of his diplomatic party, which included another high-ranking naval officer (bearing the insignia of the Thirteenth Daimyokantai) and a small honor guard under the chalice and shield of Makaria. Stinging Glass’s eyestalks kept watch over the genetically- and surgically-enhanced soldiers of the infamous Isaurian Knights as his main eyes held Aurus Adeni’s gaze. <I hope that your journey was free of trouble,> the senior admiral finished as he assessed his Zephyri rival.

The Zephyri in question smiled a little, not at all intimidated by the military show around him in the hangar of the Honorian expeditionary flagship. In contrast to his companion, the commodore, Aurus Adeni seemed at ease in his surroundings, and did not hesitate to step up to Stinging Glass and extend his hand; the Sadrithian had little choice but to accept Adeni’s gesture in the spirit that it was given. “The journey was pleasant enough, Senior Admiral. I must admit to some surprise at the welcome I received upon my arrival here, though.”

‘Here’ in this case was the Evvia System, whose orbital defense grid was already undergoing repairs after large portions of it were demolished during the Honorians’ push into the system the month before, and which, under Honorian command, had not hesitated to begin bombarding an identified enemy ship before Stinging Glass could order a halt to the fighting. Fortunately for everyone, the enemy ship in question was the IZN Bellum Retrevigai, the flagship of the Thirteenth, and more than capable of taking a few hits from a tattered and incomplete defense system. Stinging Glass understood that Adeni’s orders not to fire back had caused some grumbling aboard his ship, but at least the peace between Isauria and Honorias would hold for another day.

Nonetheless, he obviously wanted an answer for it; and while Stinging Glass would have loved nothing more than to order the defenses to keep firing until the Zephyri warship was nothing more than scrap in a degrading orbit, Congress’s decree meant that he instead had to give excuses to his erstwhile enemy. <The same is true for me, Governor,> the senior admiral claimed. <I have ensured that there will be no repeat of this misunderstanding. We are investigating, but at this moment, without further evidence, I must surmise that Honorian IFF software that was installed as part of our takeover had not been reset after our peace was signed.> The Sadrithian took a step back to clear the path deeper into the Umbra, motioning with his arm as he did so. <Please join me. Senior Captain Tidal Blue has arranged a room for us on this deck, for your ease.>

“Thank you,” Adeni replied, his smile never wavering, while beside him the commodore glowered in fury, but said nothing.

The walk to the room in question was a short one, but it was nonetheless awkward as armed crew members lined the corridors to remind Adeni and his entourage just which people were hosting his party that day. Amusingly for bodyguards, the Isaurian Knights seemed to take the posturing in best stride, though Adeni himself was, as the Elysians might have said, a good sport more or less, letting his smile falter in the company of so many armed Sadrithians watching his every move, but otherwise making no fuss about the display. Stinging Glass was… not impressed, exactly, as it was only proper for a commander of Adeni’s stature to refuse to falter in the face of threats, but at least Adeni was living up to the senior admiral’s expectations, which was all to the good considering what Congress had agreed to give him.

Beside one door in particular, a Sadrithian bearing the collar of an Honorian senior captain motioned for the party to enter. Adeni nodded politely to the officer as he passed by; the commodore glowered, but nodded likewise, and no words were shared. The Isaurians followed, and then the senior admiral, who paused momentarily beside his subordinate to ask, <Have we received further word from the Lawgiver?>

<No, sir,> answered Tidal Blue.

<Damn.>

By the time the two Sadrithians turned their full attention back to their guests, Aurus Adeni had already found a seat, one of several biped-oriented chairs situated around a holoprojector-enabled table in the center of the room. The commodore followed the Governor’s lead, while the Isaurians took standing positions at their flanks. Stinging Glass and Tidal Blue made their way to the other side of the table and took their own seats on the cushions that had been laid out for them, within easy reach of refreshment bowls filled with fruits and liquor. The table had its own share of refreshments, and the senior admiral motioned toward the spread as he settled into his seat. <Feel free to enjoy yourselves,> he offered. <You are guests of Honorias, after all.>

“Thank you,” Adeni replied, his smile returning as he reached for a glass and the nearest bottle of wine – looted from the quarters of a senior officer on Biotia, to which the Honorian officers would not admit, but at least they could be confident that it would meet the Governor’s taste.

<So let us consider why you have come here in the first place,> Stinging Glass continued, flicking the switch in the table’s surface to bring the holoprojector to life. <The terms of your surrender, as ratified by Congress: that Isauria will establish itself as an independent and sovereign state, that this sovereign state of Isauria will declare its own hostilities against Cheng I Sen and her Zephyri regime, and that…> The senior admiral paused, his eyestalks glowering at the text in front of him while his primary gaze remained on his guest. <And that,> he continued, <you, Aurus Adeni, will retain your powers as Governor of Isauria, will retain your fleets and your powers of war, and will, in return for retaining these things, make personal efforts at the head of the Isaurian state to defeat, capture, or kill Cheng I Sen, and to defeat the Republic of Zeikeutsyr in this war beside the forces of the Republic of Honorias. Governor Adeni, I think you are now aware that Cheng I Sen has been captured and remanded into the custody of the Ashian Empire; is that not correct?>

“I have been informed, yes,” Adeni answered, his own eyes also fixed on the text of their agreement. “Her underlings are still at large, of course –”

<Those underlings include yourself, Governor,> Stinging Glass reminded him. <Without Cheng’s strong presence in the center, there are likely to be a number of peripheral individuals who seek separate arrangements with the Coalition, either as a whole or in its separate parts, just as you have done. Zeikeutsyr is soon to surrender, and its national administration is being left to Teutionia’s man. You understand what this means.>

Even as the admiral discussed the situation, the holographic image changed, striking lines through those terms of Adeni’s surrender relating to Isauria’s participation, and Adeni’s personal participation, in the war against Cheng. Both Stinging Glass and Tidal Blue held Adeni’s gaze evenly, waiting for a response, but the Governor’s smile didn’t falter. It was the unhappy commodore who spoke up instead: “Your Congress has ratified these terms, Admiral. Do you mean to disregard Honorian law?”

Even as the Isaurian Knights tensed, Adeni himself waved his commodore off. “Please excuse Lady So Scipiones’s frustration, Admiral,” he said. “As matters are in flux, we are all understandably nervous. Nonetheless, I am forever confident in the honorable conduct of the Honorian people and the officers of your Republic.”

Stinging Glass nodded slowly, though his eyestalk remained hard on the commodore, So Scipiones. <Honorian law requires that we honor these terms,> he replied. <But these terms are… loose, I think you will both agree. Tightening them up was the purpose of our meeting. I am not about to defy Congress in rejecting your peaceful surrender, Governor Adeni. But we must decide between us what this will mean, to maintain the power of a Zephyri agent at the head of an independent state.>

“Why should it mean anything more than it has since the Zephyri arrival?” Adeni asked easily. “This is the former Isaurian League. The people here are familiar with military rule superseding local governance; it has been this way for hundreds of years, since they departed their homeworld to escape the bombardment of their own Void Fleet. The High Lord gave up his authority to the Sossaeth, and the Sossaeth were ejected by the guns of Cheng I Sen, but the right of the military to rule the Isaurian people has continued to justify foreign governorship no less than it justified the throne of Keram Damara.”

<It will not justify it in the eyes of our fellow Coalition members,> corrected Stinging Glass. <Nor will it satisfy the Honorian public, whose decision in our upcoming election may transform the composition of our Congress. This country has been run on the basis of military authority for three hundred years, as you point out, Governor. And the legitimacy of that authority has been in tatters since Isauria’s first contact. The High Lord wilted before Elysium and collapsed before the gaze of the Sossaeth. The Sossaeth in their turn fled before the fleets of Cheng. Cheng has now made herself prisoner, and her agents abroad, including you, do not have the strength to resist another change in regime.> The admiral glared at his guest. <Give me more than this, Governor. What legitimacy can we use to prop you up, now when our partners abroad want to eliminate your kind from the Orion Spur?>

Adeni stared at Stinging Glass for a long moment, his expression frozen. Then he cracked, letting out a laugh that surprised even his commodore. “You want me in charge because your Congress insists on it, but you can’t figure out how to sell it, even to yourselves!” he crowed. “Ha! Then I’ll tell you, Admiral – and you can never pretend that I never did you a favor.” The Governor leaned back, raising his glass of liquor to his lips. “Unlike any of these previous rulers, Admiral, you know that I am popular among the Isaurians. They will hardly object to my continued authority, let alone challenge my military for the privilege!”

<If you are so confident, Governor, you will not object to a vote on the matter to confirm the certainty of the Isaurian opinion, I am sure,> Stinging Glass replied.

Adeni’s smile faltered. “You anticipated my answer after all,” he said, scoffing. “No, I will not object to a referendum on my continued leadership, if that will satisfy you and your Congress.”

<One vote alone will satisfy no one – and while Congress, in its current guise, will accept your leadership regardless, I remind you that we aim to satisfy all the Congresses to come, and the rest of our Coalition in the meantime,> Stinging Glass argued.

“The rest of the Coalition is giving Minister Maurrand everything he asks for and more,” corrected Adeni with a wave of his hand. “The Coalition has collectively agreed to let Austria exit the war without alteration. Yes, I have kept my ears open to the contacts I cultivated in the Gold Ring and beyond,” he assured his unimpressed hosts, “and I know what challenges your representative has suffered in the Coalition’s internal squabbling. Maurrand himself is surely laughing at all of you, and perhaps at Honorias in particular. I will content myself only to point out that your President’s aims are won, no matter what leniency you give to me: Honorias aligns with its northern allies even in weakness, and so garners Teutionian respect and Arandan favor, while the actual fate of Isauria remains of no concern to the great powers of Elysium. My continued authority will offend no one among the Coalition – no one important, at least.”

Stinging Glass leaned forward threateningly, prompting the Isaurian Knights to tense once again as his expression twisted in fury. <Maurrand is a puppet on a Teutionian string,> he rumbled into every nearby mind, <given to Charles Martin by the hands of Coalition partners whose own representatives are too busy with their own pseudo-conquests to care about the Gold Ring. Fine, perhaps our partners will ignore Isauria from this day forward, regardless of what my superiors would like to see of their conduct; but from Maurrand’s hand, at Martin’s instigation, we occupiers are given final, overriding authority in the territory we have been left to administer, and I will be damned by every ancestor I can name if I fail to remind you that, for Isauria, that means us.> The senior admiral stomped his hoof against the floor, letting the echoes ring in the confines of the meeting room for a long moment to emphasize his seriousness. <So let me start again,> he eventually continued. <You, Aurus Adeni, will not be permitted to rule this territory based on a military authority delegated to you by a nation to whom you now disclaim all responsibility. Your authority in Isauria must and will be seconded by the people of Isauria, or you will not rule here.>

“Denied at the very moment of Isauria’s independence, once more dragged under the guns of an oppressive foreign invader?” snarled Commodore So Scipiones. “The whole province will rise up against you. Noverra will be another Biotia – and we are entirely familiar with the lack of progress you are suffering there, don’t you worry! – and Evvia will act against you with all the finesse that political dynasties and ruthless tycoons can muster together. You can tell your Congress just what it will mean to give democratic authority to a people that actively despises your interference!”

Adeni, meanwhile, let his smile finally disappear to reveal the hard expression of a seasoned commander under pressure. “I have agreed to a referendum already,” he snapped. “What more do you want?”

Stinging Glass held the commodore under the glare of an eyestalk, but otherwise relaxed slightly as Adeni asked for more information rather than immediately rejecting the admiral’s authority to interpret Congress’s orders. <You cannot rule above the Diet,> he told Adeni bluntly. <Your office is that of a foreign governor, representing a foreign government; as the individual declaring Isauria’s independence from that same government, you can no longer depend on the legal mechanisms intended to empower its representatives over native authorities. The Diet must now be the embodiment of Isaurian statehood, and if you are to rule this place, Aurus Adeni, you must do so within the Diet’s authority. You will be Archon of Isauria, so long as the electorate agrees – and only for as long as the electorate agrees. Do you understand, Governor?>

Adeni’s expression twisted with cultured distaste. “If you… insist, Admiral,” he answered. “I will run for Archon. I will win, naturally. And I will gladly work in Honorias’s best interests for as long as Teutionia guarantees the rights of your occupation over this proud and independent state.” He scoffed. “Nothing about this arrangement seems hypocritical in the least, of course. No path is more natural than this, for Isauria and for us all.”

<Indulge in your sarcasm on your own time, and spare us from it now,> Stinging Glass snapped. His full attention, all four eyes’ worth, fell firmly on So Scipiones so suddenly that the commodore almost flinched. <While we are seeing to the disposition of the Diet, the Thirteenth Daimyokantai will make its way to Haromir, and will park itself there until it receives orders from the Diet to move elsewhere. This is not negotiable.>

“Haromir?” demanded the commodore. “Wouldn’t you prefer to chase each of my ships down to blast it apart in glory, rather than shuttling them all into one neat row for you to slaughter?”

Adeni shook his head. “Destroying the daimyokantai would invalidate our agreement,” he argued. “No, the question is whether or not you’re moving the fleet to the edge of Isaurian territory to get it out of the way of your operations against Transisesen, or… for other reasons.”

Senior Captain Tidal Blue turned a questioning eyestalk toward his superior, who simply nodded at the Governor’s supposition. <You were correct to remind us that Austria seems to be… more or less unpunished, when compared to the disaster now befalling Zeikeutsyr,> Stinging Glass replied. <Peace terms have yet to be finalized, but the trajectory of negotiations is clear. We are looking at an undefeated, and simply unrepentant, violent state sitting in our midst. Your borders, as well as ours, as well as Zeikeutsyr’s as a whole, are in considerable danger. My President is reasonably sure that we will all come to regret this decision on the part of the Coalition, and it is my duty to ensure that Honorias does not suffer unduly for it. As the highest-ranking Honorian officer in Isauria, that makes it my duty to also ensure that you do not suffer unduly for it.> The senior admiral tilted his head in consideration for a moment, before finally admitting, <There is a possibility that preventing an Austrian disaster will require our active participation, and the Thirteenth will have its place in any such plans as they are devised. Hopefully it will not come to that.> Stinging Glass barely made the effort to project sincerity into his last sentence.

Adeni fully understood, and sighed. “So we are likely to be dragged into another nation’s war,” he mourned. “Woe upon the whole Isaurian people, to be used like this by all comers.”

<Better by us than by the likes of Atrexus,> replied the admiral with a shrug. <At least you won’t be fighting alone. It is more than I had hoped for you, Governor Adeni; I think you should be grateful for this turn of fortune that has served you no worse than the Austrians we now must view with such concern.>

The Zephyri gave another scoff. “I am grateful indeed,” he answered, “that the gold of your lords bears more weight than the votes of your multitude in the hands of every Honorian politician with sense. So I have been saved from the reactionaries’ noose; so have been saved so many other blameless Zephyri, guilty only of association with the Spur’s latest target of irrational and prejudicial hate. To be saved from injustice only by way of others’ corruption… Honorias is truly a shining example of democratic values, and Isauria will be honored to follow in its footsteps.”

Stinging Glass grew very still, holding Adeni under an unwavering gaze. <Honorias binds my actions according to the whims of its elected leaders,> he finally admitted. <But, even within those binds, I have a great deal of personal discretion to determine my own course of action. Be warned, Aurus Adeni, just what it means for you to hold power in this place under Honorian authority.> The senior admiral leaned forward again, slowly and purposely, until his nose and Adeni’s were separated by less than three inches. <I own you, Adeni. And when Isauria is fully independent of Zeikeutsyr again, not even Teutionia could order me to loosen my grip on your delicate little throat. Understand me, or live the rest of your pitiful life in the brig of my meannest frigate. That is your choice.>

Adeni, to his credit, held Stinging Glass’s gaze. But he nodded silently all the same, and the senior admiral let his satisfaction show as he leaned back again. <Good.>

(Zeikeutsyr)

Once the world stops spinning, read that writing on the wall!

Xianna So Scipiones scowled as she leaned back from her office desk and took a long drink. Her fleets, as intact as they remained after a month of suffering under the guns of Honorias’s overwhelming force, sat idle but attentive in the Haromir System, awaiting the signal to move out from – or the alarm to defend – Isaurian territory to its utmost ability. The Governor’s orders had been given, perhaps the last he could conceivably deliver as the commander of Isauria’s armed forces in addition to his administrative function, to break any enemy force that would attempt to take advantage of Zeikeutsyr’s overall collapse and the political upheavals that were already overwhelming Isauria in particular (as though the ships under So Scipiones’ command were any more capable of deflecting the greed of an Austrian fleet than they were of blunting the rage of an Honorian one). And the fateful compromise, political and military, had been established under her very eyes: Honorias would back the Isaurians’ choice for their ruler, even and perhaps especially if it happened to be the same ruler they had answered to for a decade already, and would defend Isauria’s political development in isolation from any interference, but only so long as it remained true to rationally-democratic ideals. Aurus Adeni would surely be Archon of Isauria – he had already begun to spread campaign advertising on Evvia declaring that his perseverance had attained Isaurian freedom in the face of a third foreign interloper, just as his strength and power had acquired Noverra for the people that had once fled from it – and, while the nature of his personal authority would change to reflect the legal constraints of the position he intended to occupy, the commodore was absolutely confident that a man capable of turning Isauria into his own personal fief while Cheng I Sen still held its governorship was more than capable of maintaining his overarching authority over the Diet while still being wrapped up in it.

It bore deep consideration that Adeni’s continued authority rested on a personal promise from Senior Admiral Stinging Glass, the foremost Honorian in Isauria, rather than the ratification of Adeni’s offer of peace terms that had preceded their discussion on the admiral’s flagship. Congress’s fickle nature had thwarted Stinging Glass’s original intentions for Isauria’s future, it was true, but the next elections were not so very far away that the admiral couldn’t have postponed the final conference and agreement until after a more reactionary set of representatives had been voted in to rescind the previous assembly’s peace agreement. Stinging Glass must have believed that an early peace in Isauria was beneficial to him personally, or else in keeping with the wider occupation of Zeikeutsyr. Perhaps, even, the admiral had decided that legally binding himself to Adeni’s push for Isaurian independence was the most likely way to pull the province out from under an administration in the Gold Ring headed by a wily Zephyri cabinet member and the Teutionian monarch himself.

So the new system had the backing of the most powerful military force in local space. Did that help the overall commander of the second-most powerful military force in local space? Not particularly – not when Xianna So Scipiones, Commodore of the Thirteenth Daimyokantai, and formerly Captain of the IZN Reclamation War when Aurus Adeni was in residence aboard, also proudly (one might even claim smugly) bore the title Lady of Mastropa and held absolute authority over the rebuilt and resettled colony-city of Poutalia, enjoyed almost-unlimited authority to administer and tax the city of Tsoulio, and had harbored hopes of setting up new colonies of Evvian and Biotian settlers throughout the Mastropan isthmus that could not only rival Old Isaurian cities such as Vergni, but also more relevant Evvian establishments such as Sardavar. Adeni’s call-up to lead the effort against Honorian aggression had initially distracted So Scipiones from her plans for Noverra; her complete rout over Biotia and her subsequent flight from Evvia and Adrestus completely overruled any concern for her political prospects. But now that she was in no immediate danger, her thoughts returned to her own little fiefdom, so far away from her current circumstances in what was supposed to be a temporary return to the bridge of Adeni’s most potent warship. Xianna So Scipiones had come to that meeting with Stinging Glass in the uniform of a Zephyri commodore, and had been entrusted with duties befitting one, as far as the senior admiral of a foreign state was concerned. But command of the Thirteenth Daimyokantai – the second-most powerful military force in local space – was nothing compared with the lasting political authority to which Aurus Adeni aspired, to which So Scipiones was entitled a share according to Adeni’s own promises during the troubles of previous years. They both had held supreme authority over Noverra, their pet project in all but name; now, however, Adeni had been forced to give it up in return for more official powers, and if So Scipiones wanted any power at all in the years to come, she would have to follow his example.

The commodore’s scowl deepened as she took another long draw from her glass – local rotgut of course, as she had stocked up on her ship, first by necessity and later by inaction, since her rations of Zephyri fare had dried up in the earliest days of the Isaurian Wars. So Scipiones had no illusions that she would follow Adeni’s lead, defining her power by the limits of his accomplishments as she had done since Cheng and Ban Rosane had both departed their province and left him in charge. She had already penned her resignation of command; she had, in fact, already drawn up her election strategy, and had determined her likely policy direction and her most likely allies among her colleagues if she succeeded in installing herself within the Isaurian Diet. She hesitated, but no outside observer could blame her: This decision would divest her of the military power that had seen all her previous goals brought to fruition, on which she had relied not just for her authority but for her very life on too many occasions to even remember. She hesitated to leave the Thirteenth Daimyokantai in this moment of drastic change, hoping that it would find its own way without her, and more importantly hoping that she could find her own way without it.

Just as important as knowing what she would be leaving behind, though, was the knowledge of what exactly she was jumping in to find. Isaurian politics was deeply tied to its culture and its popular understanding of history, the Reclamation above all. Isaurian religion was devoted to the base survival of the nation, rejecting glory under the weight of cultural shame and self-disgust, a force that grew ever stronger while Isauria remained subsumed under a foreign power. The High Lords and their Great Clans had been products of a distant, unattainable past, constrained by the limits of their military authority during times of isolation and peace, and crushed by the weight of a tradition that declared no future worthy of hope or veneration if it did not include a resurrected Noverra. The High Lords’ replacements were foreign masters, under whom no Isaurian could declare himself both a patriot and free; they had catered to Isaurian cultural gloom to present themselves as more of the same, and, in the end, had amplified and transformed a view of Isauria’s past into an outrageous – and, for many Isaurians, very attractive – vision of Isauria’s future. How could Isauria function, independent and self-contained, when its people’s desire for the future was crafted by foreign lords (including one who fully intended to remain in power), whose prophetic visions of glory were now anathema to every nation on the civilized map? Noverra was won, and Adeni could ride that victory to the Archon’s chair, but when the senators of the Diet were asked, “What next?” would any of them really have an answer?

No, at this point the only certainties were those things that could not be done. Makaria was finished for the foreseeable future; transformed as she had been by Cheng’s rationalizations, her Sinicizations, her personal championship, and – it had to be said – her uncapped lusts and those of her empowered, unfettered, unsupervised, and entirely irresponsible senior subordinates (including Aurus Adeni, of course), the cult that had once dominated Isaurian life and politics was now unrecognizable to its own people, many of whom had been left behind through their adherence to traditional worship, while many others had charged ahead to embrace practices that their forefathers had decreed to be abhorrent short-cuts and blasphemous reinterpretations of Makaria’s Injunction. The Isaurians’ division over the nature of Makarian religion was only compounded by outside pressure, as foreign governments and their agents declared their intention to marginalize or entirely eliminate Makarianism due to its use as a tool by Cheng I Sen. According to Adeni’s latest communication to the Reclamation War, Honorian officers had already given him explicit instructions to divest himself of Makarian symbolism, reinforce existing regulations separating religion and politics in Isauria (ironically those same statutes first laid down by Cheng I Sen), and find a new ideological basis to rally the Isaurian people. Adeni claimed to have ideas, but So Scipiones had her doubts that any of them could properly fill the gap that was being left by the Cult of Makaria’s crumbling state.

Then there were other problems, some political, some cultural, and some simply logistical: Who would vote? Who would count their votes? Would their choices be considered fair to the Honorians, who neither understood nor cared about Isaurian cultural and class distinctions? What would come of the Zephyri military forces in Isauria, which now purported to be part of the native Isaurian military? What would come of existing Isaurian forces that had been allowed to reform under Adeni, especially those on or surrounding Biotia and Noverra? Would soldiers answering directly to Adeni for a decade be allowed to vote, and if so, would they do so freely? Would Zephyri soldiers be allowed to vote? On that subject, would Zephyri soldiers be allowed to return home, now that their superiors had turned their backs on Zeikeutsyr in favor of maintaining their unquestioned authority in a breakaway province?

…Would So Scipiones have a more successful career returning to Zeikeutsyr, whether she remained in the military or turned her sights toward a political career, than she would if she remained in Isauria?

The Lady of Mastropa refilled her glass, only to drain it again in one swallow. If she was to lose her fief-of-a-fief on Noverra regardless, her options were in one sense extremely limited, and in another very open. Without Adeni, she would hold no power; under the Honorians, she might hold none regardless. The Thirteenth kept her relevant, but its posting over Haromir and its subordination to the Honorian fleet could not have sent a more devastating message to her subordinates and herself. Isauria was conquered and occupied, but so was the rest of Zeikeutsyr. Political and military life in every part of the (former?) Imperiumi was turned upside down. And in this mess, Xianna So Scipiones had to make a decision about her future before a decision was forced upon her, and pray to whatever gods she had left that it was the right one.

And the only thing she knew for certain was that holding command of a defeated fleet was only holding her back.

The commodore slammed her glass onto her desk and got to her feet. It was late and she was tired; one more sleepless night wouldn’t change much, and she could come back to her decision in the morning with a clearer head. Her resignation letter remained hidden in her desk drawer, but, regardless of what path she chose moving forward, So Scipiones already knew that it would be set on the ship captain’s desk by the end of the following day. After that, only fate could say where it would send her.

_ _ _ _ _ _

<Thus, according to our man in the field, we have full military control of Isauria’s territory and population, and the full cooperation of the Governor for the near future,> summarized Senior Admiral Glorious Advance, sweeping his eyestalks across the gathered officers of Command from his place at the head of the conference table in his quarters aboard the Lawgiver. <Austria’s continued negotiation with the Coalition means that we can confidently look forward to the end of all hostilities in the region, regardless of Congress’s rhetoric on the subject. Soon enough, Isauria will become Congress’s problem to administer, and our part in it will be fortunately over.>

A hum of satisfaction swept through the minds of the senior admirals at Glorious Advance’s table, though Senior Admiral Soft Hoofbeat leaned forward with a troubled expression. <Pardon my concern, but I can’t help but feel that we’re leaving something undone here.>

<I think we all feel that way to some extent,> High Starburst replied. <We feared a terrible struggle in Isauria, far beyond its worth as a territory or a victory. We prepared to suffer. Instead, our forces were all but invited into Isauria’s heart by timing and circumstance. Matters seem unfinished, but in this instance it is to our great benefit.>

Glorious Advance shook his head. <There is a great deal undone,> the senior admiral argued. <We entered Isauria to relieve pressure on the northern front and to eliminate Cheng I Sen’s undue influence over Zephyri and Isaurian politics. The former was not necessary, as Admiral High Starburst reminds us, but the latter… Congress has decreed that we will not be free to accomplish the latter. We must accept this half-completed mission now.>

High Starburst sighed and leaned back from the table. <There is no use complaining about it,> he insisted. <Our people at home are made safe and our soldiers abroad are not fighting for their lives. I am displeased with Congress, I admit, but I am not so displeased that I wish we were still fighting a war that is now over. We should be pleased to see the end of the conflict. I will make myself pleased by it. We should all do so.>

Soft Hoofbeat gave High Starburst a long and considering look before nodding his head in agreement, with one eyestalk still focused on Glorious Advance to note his reaction. Glorious Advance, meanwhile, snorted in derision. <We should be pleased that Congress cannot determine its path or ours, and one wonders what that means for the country,> he replied. Then, quickly, he waved a hand in dismissal. <Don’t mind my frustration, friends. We are indeed fortunate that our disunity here on the Lawgiver has not reflected itself in the death toll on the battlefield. Politically, we are without recourse, but in the eyes of our ancestors we have done our duty, as have our forces in the field, and we will welcome our soldiers and officers back to Honorias with all the gratitude due to them and to our ancestors. What could have been is not a subject for us to consider.> The senior admiral got to his hooves, and his colleagues around the table quickly followed his example. <Thank you all for being here today,> he concluded. <You may return to your duties.>

<Yes, sir,> chorused the senior admirals of Honorias with sharp salutes. Glorious Advance returned them with his own, and the gathered officers slowly made their way toward the door.

All of them, that is, except one, who waved Soft Hoofbeat on when the latter cast a questioning eyestalk toward him. <Admiral Glorious Advance,> High Starburst started, holding onto his formality as the rest of the admirals departed around him, <may I stay a while to make certain inquiries about our soldiers’ return?>

Glorious Advance also cast an eyestalk over the rest of the officers, most of whom sent a curious eyestalk of their own toward High Starburst but otherwise continued on their way. Soft Hoofbeat continued to hesitate until he saw the hard glint in his superior officer’s eyestalk and quickly nodded in submission, turning away toward the exit. Glorious Advance and High Starburst remained still, initiating nothing, until the other officer had departed and closed the door behind him; then, as one, they let themselves relax. <What do you need?> Glorious Advance asked easily.

High Starburst shook his head. <I need a platform for national attention,> he complained, <and I’m not likely to get it in meetings like this. Unless we explicitly meddle in Congress’s handling of this crisis again, we’re going to remain as anonymous in the future as we are right now.>

<The last time Command did something insensitive to Congress, the admirals unseated Third Drumbeat from the presidency,> Glorious Advance reminded his colleague. <If we were to criticize Congress now, Valley Shadow would take the brunt of the nation’s frustration, and, regardless of his uselessness, he is the closest thing we have to an ally in the Chamber. More to the point, he is useless precisely because he should have been ousted multiple times, and his opponents continue to name him President so that he may become the face of their shenanigans. We have no recourse in the Chamber, my friend, as I’m sure you already realize.>

<A man can hope.> High Starburst shook his head, but didn’t seem too terribly distraught. <Have you considered our campaign finance situation, then?>

<I have,> Glorious Advance answered, <and I can promise that Congress has tied the military budgets too tightly to our ongoing defense projects to allow any of it to be funneled away legally.>

<And you want no kind of illegality to blight the work we do once this mess is finished,> High Starburst finished with a frustrated sigh. <Yet not one of us has the personal funds to campaign in multiple Honorian systems, as you have remarked often yourself. What alternatives have you considered?>

Glorious Advance nodded toward the door through which the rest of Command had just exited. <We have already begun our plans to welcome our fleet elements back home. Command will take a leading role in that effort, and it will raise no suspicions for us to take an obvious personal interest in our soldiers’ honorable return. We will be placed beside the President at the least, and Congress at the most, with equal status and – as far as the soldiers themselves are concerned – with even greater authority. And nothing will prevent us from making statements of our own regarding the campaign that has just concluded at that time. As long as enough of us make those statements, and declare our united political opinion at once, in front of a public filled with patriotic pride and gratitude for the efforts of Command and the Honorian military as a whole, we will have our platform. Our people will remember us… and they will recognize our names on the ballot when the time comes.> Glorious Advance motioned to the exit and added, <As long as enough of our colleagues coordinate with us and agree with our intentions, of course.>

This prompted a sharp nod. <I have discussed the matter with more than half of our colleagues thus far,> High Starburst confirmed, <though I am fast running out of potential friends whom we can trust to keep secrets. All of those I have informed of our plans are eager to assist. Assuming the electorate maintains its present outrage and its opinion on Marcher affairs, sir, I can promise very strong performances on voting day.>

<A majority for certain, would you believe?> Glorious Advance pressed.

High Starburst nodded. <If the people consider our position viable, sir,> he assured his colleague, <we will take possession of Congress next year.>

These are the closing days of the era.

Crews and ground-attack forces alike stood at strict attention as Senior Admiral Stinging Glass inspected their ranks on the deck of the Mallet-class heavy battleship Umbra. As martial music swelled from loudspeakers surrounding the deck, the Sadrithian paced sedately from the corridors of his vessel toward a waiting shuttle bedecked in the purple and white of independent Isauria, where a camera crew awaited, already recording the scenes around them. The collar of his office glinted in the light as Stinging Glass nodded his head in appreciation to his rank-and-file soldiers, as he had done throughout the past two days across every ship in the Capital Expeditionary Force that had accompanied him to Isauria. He had purposely left his own ship for last, because it had been here that peace between Honorias and the former Zephyri province had been achieved, and it was here, the senior admiral had determined, that he would see his last glimpse of the Isauria he had wrenched into being – and here that the same Isauria would see the last of him.

On his flanks, Senior Captain Tidal Blue, master of this ship, saluted and shook the hand of every crew member in the front rank, while meeting the gazes of as many soldiers behind them as he could, while a Suranese officer not immediately recognizable to the multitude of Honorians but nonetheless wearing the uniform of a senior captain returned the salute of the Umbra’s inhabitants. Beside this man, the Suranese, strode Aurus Adeni, wearing the jacket and cravat of Isaurian civilian life and adorned merely with a chain necklace bearing the mark of Uhlek the Preserver. Having no reason to interact with the Honorian rank and file, Adeni faced forward, flicking his eyes between Stinging Glass, the camera far ahead, and the Suranese man beside him. Unlike almost everyone else on the hangar deck, Adeni had been informed exactly who this man was, and what his role in Isauria would be: Hrota Aratasel, the highest-ranking Suranese officer to take part in the Isaurian campaign, and therefore the best candidate to be found for Honorias’s long-term military overseer in the territory.

As it had taken this long to get used to Stinging Glass’s authority hanging over him, Adeni did not look forward to repeating the effort for a new Honorian officer, and one of a completely different species at that. His only hope was that Stinging Glass’s reasoning for the choice – a belief that species sharing such a physical resemblance might also share philosophical and psychological similarities that would hopefully allow Aratasel to avoid any serious breaches of decorum among the Isaurian people – was accurate.

It took almost an hour to complete the inspection to Senior Admiral Stinging Glass’s satisfaction, bringing the officers and their ‘Isaurian’ civilian guest up to the shuttle and the camera crew. Adeni smiled, having no idea exactly who would see the recordings and taking no chances in case they entered public viewing within his lifetime; his career, and honestly his life, depended now on maintaining the popular support of foreign audiences, Isaurians at home and Honorians abroad, and neither would be impressed with a surly puppet at the helm of the Diet. Stinging Glass turned around to face his subordinate officers fully, prompting immediate salutes from both of them that the cameraman raced to capture in their best light. The admiral paused for the required moment to allow for the camera work, before extending his hand, first to Senior Captain Tidal Blue, and then to Senior Captain Aratasel. The latter, in taking it, said simply, “Thank you, sir.”

Adeni’s smile didn’t falter, but his confusion must have been evident to the psionic minds of the Sadrithians, as Tidal Blue took pity on him to quickly explain. <The producers at home will substitute an audio dub of whatever speech they feel is appropriate for the occasion,> he informed the Zephyri, who now also received Stinging Glass’s hand to shake as the senior admiral tried so very hard not to glare at him. His grip was crushing. Adeni, expecting that, kept smiling – and crushed back.

He also took the Suranese man’s example for himself. “Thank you for your assistance in this time of transition, Senior Admiral. I wish you the very best journey home. May we meet again under less trying circumstances.”

From Stinging Glass’s expression, the senior admiral did not appreciate Adeni’s grandstanding. <I hardly need to remind you that your position here is not guaranteed,> he pointed out; Adeni couldn’t tell if these thoughts were for his private consideration or not, as neither Tidal Blue nor Aratasel reacted to them, but, given their military training and trusted discretion, that lack of reaction meant absolutely nothing. <Win your election with a minimum of fraud, and prove to Isauria and to us that you are worthy of the position you have engineered for yourself. Provoke us, or provoke the Spur, and your apparent friendship with the current Congress will avail you nothing. You are warned, Aurus Adeni: Rule justly, and do not defy Honorias.>

Adeni kept smiling. “Of course, Senior Admiral.”

Stinging Glass held the Zephyri’s hand and gaze for another moment, before releasing both and turning his attention back to Senior Captain Aratasel, who had just finished shaking hands with his fellow captain in front of the interested camera. <I cannot guarantee that I will see your reports in person,> the admiral told him, <but I will inquire after you if I should learn concerning news regarding Isauria. I do not know what Command will make of our circumstances here in the long run. Bear with us to the best of your ability, Senior Captain, and I for one will be grateful for it.>

“I will serve Honorias to the best of my ability, sir,” Aratasel replied firmly. “You can depend on me and on the men you leave with me to do our duties for Honorias and for the peace.”

Stinging Glass nodded sharply. <Good man,> he praised. He turned, showing his face once again to the camera that still hovered around the group as he motioned toward the waiting shuttle. <I think it is time to board.>

It had been a strange ceremony, orchestrated just as so many other reviews had been over the course of the previous two days, but this one obviously could not end in the same way. Senior Admiral Stinging Glass was not leaving his own flagship; his guests, instead, bade him and the senior captain of his vessel farewell, and turned to board the boldly-painted shuttle alone, leaving even the camera crew behind. Aratasel led Adeni up the boarding ramp; the music rose to a crescendo; and then, with the ramp rising behind them, it was over.

The Honorian senior captain, so different from every other Honorian officer Adeni had been forced to interact with thus far, settled into the nearest seat and gave the Zephyri a scathing look. “‘This time of transition,’ is it?” he asked. “Your voters might buy that in the days to come, Governor, but you had better find new material before you try to impress the international community. No one outside these borders has forgotten how you were put here. The President made sure of it long ago.”

“Your senior admiral has already made it clear that Isauria won’t be looking for international assistance beyond Honorias for as long as I still live,” Adeni shot back as he took his seat across from his new minder. “What do I care how the Valkyrians or the Silberflussi think about my choice of words?”

Aratasel held his tongue for a long moment, merely gazing at his fellow passenger as the ambient noise around them rose to an inconvenient pitch. The engine’s power spiked; the cabin jarred slightly as the shuttle rose from the hangar deck, making for the airlock to begin a few hours’ journey to Sardavar. Once the bright hangar lights outside the cabin windows were replaced with pinpricks of starlight and the occasional shock of a thruster flare, the Suranese sighed and said, “Honorias’s supremacy over this country will likely last as long as we believe that Cheng’s Zephyri officials still hold power here. I wouldn’t expect it to continue much longer than your time in office, Archon-To-Be. We have far more important things to deploy our fleet to solve than Isauria’s domestic condition. Soon enough, this country will be on its own. And even if you won’t personally benefit, I think your legacy will profit from the actions you take to improve Isauria’s independent standing to ease your successor’s path toward the international table. Don’t you agree?”

Adeni considered his new supervisor carefully. “You have a lot of faith in your government’s ability to walk away from its command of this country,” he said eventually. “If what you believe is true, Senior Captain, I’ll gladly do my part. But with so much still undecided… I wonder how long Honorias will really be here, in the end.”

The Suranese raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to play Over or Under with you?”

Adeni couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe working with this one won’t be impossible after all, he thought. “Too many variables,” he said, shaking his head. “Too many even to count them all. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Two weeks later, as Aurus Adeni marched up the aisle of the great assembly hall that filled the interior of the Vindasian Megaron, he looked around himself at the changed landscape of Isaurian politics. The election had come, and his own hand-picked ‘old guard’ had gone: Democracy had replaced the political appointees of the oligarchy with new faces, unfamiliar names, and uncomfortable weakness in the face of real power. The political landscape had changed considerably, but with so many newcomers without any clue of the standard expectations of either their behavior or of the Diet’s real power, Adeni was once again in a position to bamboozle most of the legislature to follow his lead without much question. He would have to discover, through painful trial and error, just which of these new senators were canny enough to see through the obfuscations he had already prepared, but Adeni remained confident in his ability to overcome such minor obstacles. This was the situation he had inherited from Cheng I Sen, so long ago: a gathering of politicians in a new place, without context or power base. He had beaten them from afar at that time. He would beat them in their own Megaron now.

At the far end of the aisle, upon the dais raised between the two Pillars of the People (the one inscribed with the full text of the Sardavar Compact and a written description of its signing, the other inscribed with the text of the Constitution of Vindas and the signatures of every member of the first Vindasian Parliament – monuments that Adeni had kept forgetting to remove and replace, to be honest), the green leather seat of the Archon awaited. It had been red leather a month ago; it had been stamped with images pertaining to Makaria’s Injunction and the goddess’s role in protecting the Isaurian people from themselves and from foreign aggression. That upholstery was gone, replaced with green leather and plain brass studs that had no religious or political significance. Adeni had been tempted to draw up new stamps focusing on the joyful awakening of independence under a new protective hand, but in the end he’d decided to save the Diet’s money and avoid the potential embarrassment of having to reupholster the chair a third time should Honorias’s influence and its bet on the Temple of Uhlek not survive the next few years.

But given Hrota Aratasel’s assurances, delivered with depressing regularity, that Honorias’s interest in Isauria would only wane once Adeni and his former Isaurian War comrades were no longer in power, the new Archon had to assume that any such policy change would be the result of his own removal. It was in his own best interests to forget the heady days of combat under Cheng’s direction; it was even in his best interests to minimize his own propaganda regarding the war on Noverra fought under his own direction, which he had advertised to the Evvian and the Zephyri public alike as a joint effort that would tie the two peoples together as tightly as a Makarian wedding ceremony – itself a taboo as far as the Honorian reactionaries perceived it, now that Cheng’s own propaganda was saturated with twists of the Cult’s philosophy and symbolism. By the same analogy: Adeni had long since decided that the Isaurian people should be taught not to hide behind their wives.

He had a speech in his pocket marked with the seal of the Temple of Uhlek and a simple message: Put the fear of foreign domination aside, and look out into the universe with confidence and joy. There was nothing that recent history and three foreign conquests could advise that a judicious editing of facts could not overcome.

Reprise: Be the change you want to see in the world.

The establishment of the Al’terran Empire and the office of Sovereign, while hardly unexpected, nonetheless prompted frustration and annoyance from the upper echelons of the Honorian nation. It was only a few years before that a nation that had previously declared itself to be a new bastion of democracy had turned its back on those ideals, which had already provided all the excuse they needed to spark a Spur-wide war. Like Zeikeutsyr before it, Al’terra’s transition from monarchy to democracy and, for now at least, back again had spilled the blood of millions, devolved into political grandstanding and hideous power plays, and had resulted in little more than a changing of the autocratic guard. The Honorian government was no less disappointed in the Al’terran regression than in the Zephyri one before it; the public, on the other hand, appeared more resigned to it than anything else. Nonetheless, several media outlets in Honorias marked the occasion with headlines ranging from rueful to derisive, all of which declared the Honorian public’s disgust with the confirmed rise of another autocrat and the ever-present uncertainty in the distant reaches of the Orion Spur.

There were plenty of other publications that recognized a trend when they saw one. Honorians had entered the war against Zeikeutsyr with fond thoughts of bringing democracy to the people who had once declared their nation to be a republic, only to regress through no fault of their own under the iron fist of the autocratic conqueror Cheng. But the young peace had already been troubled by concerns that the autocrat’s rot in Zeikeutsyr was being nurtured even in her absence, or else had always been there in the first place, waiting for an outstanding personality to take up the self-destructive torch. There were signs that Honorias’s allies, whose own democratic traditions ranged from well-established to muddled to nonexistent, had vastly different ideas of peaceful coexistence with their former tormenters than Honorias itself could countenance. And there was the knowledge, ever present, that Honorian democracy itself had already been undermined, and was clearly under dire threat. The success of the Valkyrian election had eased some official concern, but public opinion hovered in the region of wait and see, especially after the reaction of Arandan hardliners proved that even democracy could not make Valkyrios palatable to a nation that Honorias had long courted as a friend. Politically, culturally, domestically, and internationally, the common Honorian looked around himself and was confronted with obstacles and dreadful uncertainty. What a shame, he might have thought, that the coming of peace could not alleviate – that the coming of peace might in some cases have caused – such an unfortunate set of circumstances.

In this spirit of general depression, at least among those who bothered to care about international news, the foremost media outlet in the Dominion of Aruhn found a new expression for its displeasure, which spread as things so often do across Honorias over the course of the next two weeks. Foregoing the ubiquitous opinion pieces that derided the Al’terran situation and incessantly complained about the heightened tensions of a supposedly-peaceful Spur, the leading story of The Pages of Aruhn was a text from the very recent past, authored by one of the few Honorians to possess international recognition: Tower’s Voice, emissary to the President of Congress. Rather than a letter to the editor, it was a speech to the international community; and rather than a reaction to the situation of the present, it was a recitation of lessons from the distant past that was intended to direct the audience of international leaders toward a better, brighter path. As The Pages pointed out, Logic and hope had rarely been expressed by an Honorian so well.

But then, as surely now, it had all been for naught.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Honored guests, even more honored hosts, thank you for welcoming the Honorian delegation to the fair city of Elkmont. Many of you know me; just as many, I too remember. For those with whom I have yet to cross paths, I am Tower’s Voice, representing the will and the intent of the Congress of Honorias. Regardless of the brevity of our time together here in Ash, I know already that we will meet again in the future; such is the nature of our work. I am pleased to meet, and to meet again, delegations from across the Spur. We have much to discuss today.

We meet at yet another crossroads in our national and international identities, yet another point of decision brought before us through violence, fear, and firm determination. Despite the challenges we all have faced throughout the past several years, and despite even several shifts in opinion – public and private, national and regional – we find ourselves here again, or perhaps here for the first time, at a new decision that looks so remarkably like the old that there appears to be no difference. One might believe that we will never be free of this decision, and that our nations – our peoples – will be cursed to confront the same question again and again and again throughout the long ages. But I am confident otherwise. For I am Honorian, and my people broke this cycle long ago, so as to bring hope to those who have not.

We too, in our distant past, recall the crossroads of national identity: the decisions to make war on a people on behalf of a man, to reconstitute a city for the glory of its ruler, to cast others aside as unacceptable at the command of the one who is offended by them… or to embrace all others as people alike to one’s own, and to reject the hatred of one man for the betterment of all people. Often these decisions did not appear so obvious to us, and were framed by their proponents in more subtle, pleasing ways: glory, honor, tradition, and the destiny of one people as a people apart from and superior to all others. But no victory can satisfy a proposal of hatred and self-importance, and as often as we were persuaded to follow our masters into the flames of rapacity and war, just as often we lamented the sad consequences of our actions, and the limitless appetite of our leaders to take these actions all over again.

We learned over centuries of violence that individuals who wield power over others by their own strength – of will, of charisma, or even of inherited tradition – inevitably seek to prove their power, and those in thrall to said power just as inevitably pay the price. We learned to expect this behavior of our rulers. Occasionally, we went so far as to demand it of them. We knew and wanted nothing else.

But then, over the course of one short lifetime, we learned a new way. The Adabali War is a footnote in the history of the Spur, and all but meaningless to you who have come to receive my message, but I beg you to consider its foundational influence on the people of Honorias, Suranese and Sadrithian together. In that one conflagration, we came upon the greatest personalities of our history – and, in one moment of fire and devastation, we lost both of them, master and adversary alike. We could find no other ruler to match them; the brilliant memory of their leadership, their fury, and their violence outshone the flickering lights of every ruler still living. Only now among foreign stars do we hear of masters who could rival those we gained and lost in that long-concluded conflict – but now, after so long without, we have found our new way.

In the absence of enlightened tyranny, we made rulers of ourselves. Without ambitions to spur us or traditions to guide us, we sought peace and comfort over war and horror. Having no hope of glory, we abandoned competition in favor of cooperation, disclaimed pride in favor of mutual survival, and rejected forever the notion of personal aggrandizement bought by the blood of others. We remember our past, and I acknowledge – I even proclaim – that we honor it, revere it, and reminisce fondly upon it. But never will we return to it – not even now, with the prospect of titanic despots again before us to mirror the brilliance of our storied, tyrannical, and truly superbeing ancestral monarchs and masters.

I relate to you what we Honorians have learned in the centuries since Golden Cloud traded blows with Al-Esh of the Fourth Adabal: Sapient beings have no need for superior individuals to command them. Sapient beings are forever capable of ruling themselves; this is indeed a mark of sapience in itself. No tyrant, no monarch, no great and charismatic personality, no matter how persuasive, can truly eliminate a person’s ability to think and act for himself. Just as this is true of Sadrithians and Suranese, it is equally the case for Acadians, Zephyri, Elysians, Equisians, Urstea, and every other civilized people among the stars.

I return to this crossroads of civilization. Our nations struggle, and our people slaughter their brothers and neighbors without limit, for causes that have fired their imaginations far beyond reason. Let us consider among ourselves how we came to embrace these causes, each by itself. What brings us to one cause or another? Perhaps I should ask instead: Who has enflamed our hatreds, emboldened our resolve, and sent us forth to war? Do we love the cause, I wonder, or do we love much more its preacher?

I once again thank you all for your time, and express my gratitude and that of Congress to the Empire of Ash for providing this venue to discuss our common plight. With luck and thoughtful reflection, I believe this year’s G20 can become the window through which all of us can once again glimpse peace. Thank you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Once, simultaneously not long and too long ago, Tower’s Voice and then-President Distant Cliff had gently reminded the Orion Spur of the dangers of unchecked autocracy; immediately thereafter, the unofficial autocrat of a newly-proclaimed republic turned her back on democracy and put herself on the throne. The light of diplomacy, represented then by the gathering in Elkmont, faded and died in war’s smothering smoke. Now the war was over; diplomacy once again held sway, this time in the form of negotiations for Zeikeutsyr’s return to a peaceful existence. But for perceptive Honorians, and for those simply rueful at the direction that had been taken by the Al’terran state after so many false dawns, the gloom of conflict and the lessons of history remained heavy and obscure before their very eyes.

Unless the course of events was radically changed for the better, this peace surely could not last.

Seething

Congress’s term was coming to an end. While almost every individual member of Congress had spent the past year systematically annihilating their political careers and undermining the foundations of Honorian democracy, the assembly had also managed – somehow – to achieve some actual work. Under this Congress, and under this President, Honorias had gone to war, finally entering the conflict that had embroiled the rest of the Spur for almost a decade, preoccupying Honorian trade partners and causing no end of trouble for Honorian diplomats who had previously attempted to maintain the Republic’s strict neutrality while simultaneously accepting the sometimes-disastrous interventions of individuals or local polities. In the end, Honorias had chosen a side – at the point when the war’s final course had already been decided, of course – and had fought its hardest to make itself useful to the other powers that coalesced to form the Coalition. Isauria had been liberated almost without a fuss (save for Congress’s small disagreement with Command concerning the fate of Isauria’s leadership), and preparations to push farther into Zeikeutsyr were well developed before the Zephyri military completely collapsed, and Cheng I Sen offered her surrender to the Ashian Empire.

The surrender itself signaled the beginning of the end for Honorian faith in the peaceful future of the Spur. The Empress-Mother and her son, the Emperor himself, acquired an uncontested retirement in the countryside, rather than the prison cell demanded by so many other members of the Coalition. Then questions were raised about the person of the Zephyri negotiator and the effectiveness of the Coalition’s primary representative, the so-called Regent Charles of Teutionia, in both keeping the Zephyri Minister Maurrand in check and putting into practice key Coalition demands. This was particularly notable when it came to Honorias’s single-greatest hope for the continuation of peace and the establishment of true justice after a – as already noted – near-decade of war, a promise of extensive investigations that would determine what portions of the body politic in Zeikeutsyr (and, for that matter, in its ally the Austrian Frontier) had to be treated as agents of Cheng I Sen and excised. During the course of a single post-war meeting, the Honorian emissary determined that his Coalition partners were unquestionably uninterested in pursuing justice upon Zeikeutsyr, and were actively hostile to representatives such as himself who pushed for them to hold their erstwhile enemy to account. There was no second meeting because the Coalition members’ disinterest extended even to the vague notion of treaty enforcement in Austria, whose government remained unchanged and confident – so much so that it sought to receive concessions from the Coalition in the form of systems held by the Zephyri Imperiumi under Cheng I Sen. Meanwhile, Zeikeutsyr’s provisional government, consisting of Minister Maurrand and whatever ministers he retained from Cheng’s regime, instigated a constitutional convention as required by the demands of the Coalition, having failed to demonstrate any actual progress with the investigations required by treaty, thereby allowing any number of Cheng’s officers, agents, and sympathizers to take part in the creation of Zeikeutsyr’s new governmental structure. And when the convention was finished…

The resulting government was a constitutional monarchy that presided over a bicameral legislature, whose monarch was a god from whom all power was bestowed, and whose nobility was maintained according to grants made both before and during Cheng I Sen’s administration. Cheng’s government reforms, old and new, were maintained in their entirety. The convention’s success in this regard was due largely to the intervention of a minister recognized even in the press as well-known as a minister of the former empress. The resulting government mirrored its prewar counterpart, then presided over by now-prisoner Yuan Xiachi, in every relevant respect. Nothing had changed.

Nothing had changed.

The Honorian public had generally given up on the stated aims of the war as soon as Cheng had gotten away with a comfortable lordship in Ash. Congress’s own behavior in Isauria only caused more apathy among the populace, in particular as it voted (over the President’s objections) to retain Cheng’s former officers and agents in their positions of power under Honorian supervision. It was even possible that the culmination of this outrageous supposed peace process would have been equally unremarkable to a general public whose attention was already directed elsewhere. Under alternative leadership, perhaps that of Distant Cliff and his staunchly-neutral policy priorities, the public might not have ever learned just what victory against a Spur-wide menace actually entailed.

But to President Valley Shadow, the unenforced treaty stipulations and the conference that resulted from their failures were personal insults on multiple fronts. Cheng I Sen was no mere political opponent, but the individual whose ambition and drive was responsible for the deaths of millions whose only crime was to live in a nation victimized by Cheng’s rapacity; the failure of those nations’ governments to ensure that Cheng’s enablers were eliminated before recreating a copy of her own government once again could only be considered a travesty of justice. Beyond righteousness, Honorias had immediate security concerns that should have been resolved by a dedicated investigation, most of which centered on the unrepentant Austrian Frontier, which had suffered almost-literally no consequences for its significant part in those millions of deaths and had only emerged from its defeat emboldened and ready for more. And all of this only added insults to the original injury, that being the reason for Honorias’s participation in a war that it had spent years avoiding to the best of its ability: Valley Shadow’s new administration, for once assisted by the representatives of Congress, had entered the conflict entirely on the lure of stronger partnerships with the nations ranged against the Sister Republics, including (most importantly in Valley Shadow’s opinion) Teutionia, Arandas, and Silberfluss. The latter’s government shared Honorias’s general opinion of the peace process, but the others… no. They were distracted, uninterested in justice, pleased simply that the war was over and that normal relations could resume, and their weakness in negotiations had directly contributed to the end of Honorian hopes for justice and peace in the Orion Spur, southern or northern be damned. To strengthen partnerships with such nations would require Honorias to put aside its desire for justice and a properly-lasting peace – and, while previous administrations might well have done so for the sake of immediate profits, Valley Shadow refused to do so.

The Honorian public might have ignored this travesty. The public might even have been encouraged to ignore it, had another President found it convenient. But this President was angry, and he had a supermajority of representatives in Congress eager to keep the Honorian armed forces focused on any potential conflict that didn’t involve the Western March. In this, if in nothing else, the political class of the Lawgiver was entirely agreed.

_ _ _ _ _ _

By a unanimous vote of Congress, read the statement, the Republic of Honorias condemns in their entirety the governments of Zeikeutsyr and the Austrian Frontier, on the grounds of their failure to satisfactorily fulfill the terms of the treaties by which they were returned to peaceful coexistence with the nations of the Coalition. The legacy and the lackeys of Cheng I Sen remain firmly ensconced in the halls of power, without any significant resistance from those who were empowered by victory and by the vote of the Coalition to eradicate these remnants of the tyrant’s authority. The Coalition’s failure to enforce the terms of surrender does not by any means absolve the defeated parties from their responsibility to adjust their governments and policy priorities to better coexist with the nations of the Spur that were so grievously harmed by their actions. The Honorian government has observed this lack of satisfactory progress, and has determined that there remains no incentive to continue trusting what remains of this process.

By another unanimous vote of Congress, the statement continued, Honorias hereby removes its ambassadors and other official representatives from the Republic of Zeikeutsyr and the Austrian Frontier until such a time as acceptable governments can be found to lead them. Simultaneously, officials from these nations are hereby made aware that their activities in Honorias are now subject to intense scrutiny by assigned elements of Honorian Command. The Republic of Honorias cannot trust affectations of good will from governments that resemble in form, or are identical in composition, to those that so recently terrorized the civilizations of the Orion Spur.

These acts of Congress came into force from the moment of their ratification in session. It is the President’s fervent wish that Congress will have cause to rescind them sooner rather than later, so as to welcome more trustworthy partners in Zeikeutsyr and Austria to the table of international diplomacy.

And for Honorias and for the late war, that was simply that.

hello I just joined

The only difference between death and taxes is that death doesn’t get worse every time Congress meets.*

Bubbling Waters was a troubled man. Elections were upcoming, and while the campaigns were already hard and furious for newcomers and past politicians alike in an effort to carve out their places on the Lawgiver, most of the incumbent contestants in the race were… lackadaisical, the representative thought, in their approach to interacting with a clearly-angry populace. Perhaps, he thought, they knew that competing for election was a fruitless exercise: Most of them had garnered votes through a profusion of lies, and their collective refusal to fulfill those promises – and, one might argue, their dedicated and very public efforts to accomplish the very opposite of the goals they had claimed to espouse – had endeared them to no one. Even aboard the ever-isolated Lawgiver, the public’s anger and disgust were obvious enough that the few honestly-elected representatives of Congress, stymied in their efforts by a supermajority of March-bought cronies, were close to bankrupting themselves on the sheer scale of advertising necessary to declare, I am not like these others, and I can prove it if you’ll let me. But while those who could not make such claims might not have seen the value in arguing otherwise to an unfriendly public audience, Bubbling Waters had to wonder just how many of them expected to enjoy peaceful retirements after their inevitable election defeats, as they departed the security of the Capital Fleet to return to home Dominions now likely populated by very hostile neighbors. Even without hope of victory, in the veteran politician’s opinion, they would have done better to make the attempt, rather than accept a defeat that in itself was almost certain to end in a violent death.

Bubbling Waters, of course, was among those eagerly draining his life savings to purchase the advertising space necessary to combat this evil association of the current Congress with corruption and moral vacuum. He had had plenty of practice in deflecting similar accusations aimed toward himself in the past, of course, having merely attached himself to the most popular idea at any given time for most of his political career; the voters had certainly taken note of the resulting inconsistencies. But defending changes in his personal position was one thing, and separating himself from a crowd of colleagues who had made the exact same promises in the previous election that he had made was quite another matter. And while failure in previous years would have been an embarrassment that he might reverse one day, a defeat in the coming elections would be proof that the voting public viewed Bubbling Waters just as it viewed a cretin like, for example, Illustrious Descent – and would likely treat him accordingly once he left the protective confines of the nation’s greatest warship.

At the mercy of such desperation, it was no surprise that Representative Bubbling Waters had easily agreed to a… humble request, made by a concerned and patriotic good citizen. It had never been humiliating for him to demonstrate loyal subservience to whatever man was popular enough to hold the presidency, after all, no matter how many times that office changed ownership and, by that means, the opinion of greatest popularity. Now, though, it was not merely natural – and expedient – to make himself so useful to those who were most likely to hold power in a matter of a few short months, but wholly necessary for Bubbling Waters’ intention to separate himself from the pack of legislators whose rhetoric he had echoed, and whose example threatened to end his life at the hands of the angry populace. And if it so happened that this necessity was simultaneously very profitable, Bubbling Waters would be the least likely to complain: He was fast running out of money in his election campaign, after all.

So, as President Valley Shadow sealed the Chamber doors to begin a new session of Congress, it was to Bubbling Waters that Congress’s attention turned, on cue from the announcement from the Chamber’s computer that he had business to bring before the legislature. The representative rose from his cushions with a nod to the President and a brief motion of acknowledgment toward the rest of Congress as they turned their curious eyes in his direction. Then he began: <Senior Admiral High Starburst, loyal officer of Honorias and honorable candidate to enter this Chamber in the coming year, bids me to deliver his verdict on the conduct of this Congress according to the collective and unanimous opinion of Command.>

The computer pinged as several representatives lodged immediate protests, while at least two spoken voices shouted in objection. Pausing, Bubbling Waters held Valley Shadow’s gaze with one eyestalk while the President consulted with the computer, cracking his tail blade above his head to silence the shouters and allow him to arbitrate according to law. After a moment, the President, visibly troubled, nodded to the representative. <Representatives’ objections to the deliverance of an unelected official’s testimony have been raised, and are dismissed on the grounds of acceptable precedent,> Valley Shadow declared. <You may proceed, Representative Bubbling Waters.>

The representative nodded again, before turning his attention more fully to the rest of the Chamber, whose occupants now viewed him with a great deal more hostility than they had before he began. <Senior Admiral High Starburst greets this Congress,> he started again, <in the midst of his extremely busy schedule. His days are filled with reports from his subordinates regarding the defense of Honorias Proper on the borders of Austria, meetings with his colleagues regarding our position on Zeikeutsyr, dispatches to his agents regarding our authority over Isauria, and discussions with our allies abroad regarding the future of military cooperation in the Orion Spur. His nights are spent in contemplation about the nature of our partnerships, our alliances, and our sudden and inexplicable enmities, all of which arrive and depart in great haste and without prudent consideration by those who create them: those in this Chamber. He relates to me, and thus to all of you, that this past week has cut into his time of contemplation by no less than forty percent, as still more meetings, still more dispatches, and still more discussions are dedicated to bearing arms against our newest enemies, suddenly arrived just as all others before them, the Al’terrans who subscribe to the authority of Marcus Aeneas. Senior Admiral High Starburst congratulates Congress on discovering another threat against whom our limited military resources must be directed in such a record time. Surely it will take some doing to improve on this new mark.>

Bubbling Waters turned slowly, directing his main gaze across the Chamber as he considered his colleagues’ reaction to his obvious sarcasm. Some were more offended than others, and some more surprised than offended, evidently unaware that Command would be anything less than pleased to have something new to shoot at as soon as it was deprived of its previous target. He noted serious doubt and worry on some faces, though: veteran politicians who understood Command’s role in complementing the role of Congress, not to be itself commanded but to guide and direct the efforts of the civilian legislature for the benefit of the Honorian people. President Valley Shadow appeared visibly sick as he looked down from his dais, but still the computer made no effort to wrest the floor from Bubbling Waters’ possession, despite an increasing number of pings chiming into the great machine, and despite the obvious signs that the President would like nothing more than to rest the topic of discussion entirely.

<The purpose of declaring these enemies, of pushing our nation into the fires of conflict without due preparation or even public desire, is less to do with the security of Honorias – a partner to several of these nations, a peaceable neighbor to several others, ever before willing to coexist and be at peace – and much more to do with the state of the Honorian armed forces, and the purposeful attempt to degrade that state until Command is left with little more than a militia at its disposal while its prepared forces are bogged down in bloody standoffs abroad. Command’s state of readiness is being put into question, and to this Congress that is all to the good. It is Command’s stated mission that you despise, Representatives, and it is that mission that you act so impetuously to undermine from the start: to maintain Honorian unity, and to protect the people of Honorias from those that would call themselves lords among them. Senior Admiral High Starburst has held many discussions with his colleagues of Command regarding the legality of this Congress’s decisions in session, and the legality of the actions taken by individuals outside this Chamber that benefit from the decisions made within it; and he has asked many times just what the punishment should be for those who assist such criminals from a position of national trust and authority. What a question, Representatives. What a circumstance we find ourselves in, needing to ask it at all.>

Representative Illustrious Descent rose to his hooves, expression thunderous, drawing the attention of his nearest colleagues and prompting a number of them to wave him back down to his cushions. <President Valley Shadow,> he interrupted angrily, <I protest that this testimony has been allowed to continue as long as it has, and I condemn this notion of criminal activity in this Chamber – >

The President pressed a button, and the computer screeched; Illustrious Shadow and Bubbling Waters both fell back on their haunches, reeling from the noise. <You do not have the floor, Representative Illustrious Descent,> proclaimed Valley Shadow. <You will await the permission of the Chamber, as all of us do.> The President turned his eyestalks back to Bubbling Waters, who held his head in frustration at the obnoxious computer’s only method of maintaining order among the representatives of Honorias. <Representative Bubbling Waters, you may continue.>

The representative breathed deeply and got back to his hooves. <Thank you, President,> he replied with a sharp nod, and a sharper glance of an eyestalk at Illustrious Descent to match. He took another breath and then, as bidden, continued on: <You should all be pleased to know that the senior admirals of Command are collectively unwilling to declare law and punishment to be their purview. Despite High Starburst’s gravest misgivings, the representatives of our nation need not fear that their colleagues among the military are likely to turn against them by force of arms. We are not yet at a time when the continuation of our present conduct is less disastrous to the national welfare than the purposeful eradication of centuries of democratic governance.

<This is, as I have already pointed out, not a unanimous view of the present situation,> Bubbling Waters added meaningfully. <And I would be remiss if I minimized the danger of a different point of view growing to become the position of the majority. As long as Congress directs Command to waste its meager resources on distant foreign conflicts while the ties of national unity are purposely frayed and cut without any response from this body, we come closer to a time when the necessity of democracy becomes less immediately pressing than the necessity of eliminating this democratically-elected assembly by the most expedient means.>

The computer pinged another dozen times, and this time declared on its display, President Valley Shadow has the floor. President Valley Shadow has the floor.

The President rose to his full height once again, this time glaring at Bubbling Waters as the representative reluctantly gave way. <Representative, you are out of line! While no one may object to testimony that expresses differences of opinion between Congress and Command, we will not be subjected to threats of armed rebellion, no matter where those threats originate. You will refrain from threatening this body in future, Representative, and you may inform the senior admiral to do the same if I do not meet with him again before you do.>

A rumble of anger and not-unreasonable fear echoed in the back of everyone’s mind to second the President’s warning: Honorias’s elected representatives not only objected to any conversation involving a military overthrow of Congress, but refused to even contemplate the possibility. For Bubbling Waters and the message he delivered, time was decidedly up. Rising to meet the glares of the assembled representatives one more time, Bubbling Waters merely bowed his head toward the President’s dais and replied, <These words are mine only in that I relay them to you all. If you will not countenance them, I will not repeat them. Bear witness to my restraint, and imagine if you must what I cannot simply describe for you.> The representative turned his full attention toward the rest of Congress and proclaimed, <The senior admirals of Command are willing to wait for the legitimate election before they come into possession of this place, regardless. None of us are ignorant of their campaigns, and none of us dare to stand against them in any way that matters. Guns will not conquer this Chamber, but the votes of an angry people will accomplish just as much if not more. And the people are angry, Representatives. They are angrier at the people they have entrusted with these offices than perhaps they have ever been before. We would do well to remember that before we decry mere words brought up to defy us.>

Bubbling Waters returned to his cushions, head held high even under the weight of hundreds of glaring eyes. Finally, for the first time since the last election, he was confident in the message he had delivered and the public image he had projected, so far removed from his fellow representatives that not one of them could look at him without anger. He was… content, at least somewhat, in the knowledge that, even if he did not return to the Chamber in the wake of the upcoming election, he had done what he could to avoid the fate he was certain awaited the short-sighted idiots that surrounded him. He couldn’t be happy to be thrown from the Lawgiver in defeat, but he could accept it if it meant his survival.

Let the March’s trained puppets complain about comparisons best left to Golden Cloud and Sharpness Everlasting, Bubbling Waters thought to himself as the first representative of more than a dozen took the floor at the computer’s instruction. When reality sets in, I’ll live in peace, and they… probably won’t.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Within the week, Congress deliberately ordered Honorian soldiers, those who had sworn to defend the people and the territory of Honorias to the exclusion of all else, to take part in a war against freedom-seeking rebels on Elysium, and to consider taking up arms against the Empire of Yamato for good measure. Bubbling Waters stayed put on his cushions, and resolved to converse in private with his friend in Command at his earliest convenience. Certainly it was clear that the election could not come soon enough.

Honorias wrote:

The Prophet of Landfall

From Aruhn to Sadrith, to Amaya, and thence to Branora and Laconia; and from there, emerging in the midst of vastly foreign stars, the two ships raced as quickly as they could among the worlds of the friendly Silberflussi, shattered and healing from their recent strife so close to the open wound of the Eye, unsure of just which eyes that spied them believed in their cause or condemned it. There was desperate risk to this mission, and even the journey to undertake it was fraught with danger, particularly when the states of friendly governments could not guarantee the agreement of their violent peoples, but the Honorians pressed on regardless, outpacing the rumor of their coming, until at last they materialized into physical form bathed in the glow of a yellow sun.

There was no disguising their arrival above perhaps the most highly-valued world in the Orion Spur, gliding in from their coalescing point farther out in the star system and decelerating as they approached the hub of the system’s attention under the watchful gaze of half a dozen great interstellar empires. Two Recovery-class carriers were a novelty in this region of space, where Honorias’s military reach was a joke shared by Teutionians over drinks and cigars and the coreward edges of the well-explored Spur were regarded as barbarian territory best exemplified by Cheng I Sen; nonetheless, there they were, their guns primed and their crews ready even as their communications officers broadcasted the Ashian invitation and declaration of safe passage that had brought such alien vessels to the cradle and the very heart of humanity. Before the eyes of billions, the prows of these massive ships touched the first wisps of atmosphere, and within moments they were totally embraced by the air of Elysium.

That’s when their hangar doors opened at last.

Dragged to the launch deck by motorized hooks, massive air carriers awaited signals from the bridge. One by one, the catapults did their work, launching the great machines into the skies above Sartaria, their precious cargoes awaiting the moment of their use. They departed on an expected journey of hours, while their mother ships remained high above conventional cruising altitude with their sensors and their weapons pointed directly downward, awaiting the potential for conflict with the rebels of Ash or the so-called volunteers who bowed to Emperor Sasaki; none of these threats rose to challenge them.

As they progressed through the air, ten carrier planes turned their noses toward safe territory, the rendezvous city of Port Dread. Ashian regulars, STO allies, and the collected supplies of an empire held together by the strength of a sometimes-capricious military juggernaut whose comfort and willingness to fight relied on timely and copious rations. The remaining two, on the other hand, turned eastward over the strait: Enemy airspace awaited them, where so many thousands of Ashian airmen had been immolated in an instant, now to be avenged as best as Honorias could provide. As stealthy as they could be, and as prepared for violence as they could manage ahead of time, these two planes drove into the heart of Ashian Sartaria, the so-called New Frontier, until the wilds of the southern continent stretched out before them, where no one would easily spot their arrival.

Only then, in secrecy, did the back hatches of the great carriers open.

Leaping from the hollow bellies of their hosts, four winged steel beasts activated their jet stabilizers on their way to the ground below, until they crashed through the forest canopy and arrived with a rumbling crunch. Briefly-glowing eyes scanned their surroundings for threats before the first tentative steps proved that the machines had suffered no immediate damage from their rough landing. For a moment, the giant robots stood still, as if convening a meeting that only its participants could understand. Then, as one, the four ZD-4 Sunders moved off toward the nearest known enemy location, to scout or to plunder as circumstances required.

Their cargo delivered and their planes recovered, the Recovery-class carriers in the sky above engaged their engines at full thrust once more to escape the gravity well of this world, known among the peoples of the Spur for its tendency to drag every nearby civilization into its wake. The captains aboard could only hope that the soldiers they left behind would eventually rise out of that crushing weight, and at the same time feared that they had delivered their fellow Honorians well past the point of no return.

Yet, they thought, let the Sartarians and the Yamatans fear in their turn. Honorias had landed on Ashian soil.

how are you doing this?!?!