Atlesia, Spring 43

It started with an undignified Maukling dignitary. A wide-eyed, shivering, hyperventilating dignitary. He desperately grasped at the inquisitor’s white cloak, sniveling, “I need to see the emperor, I need to see the emperor, I need to see the emporor,” over and over again. Under normal circumstances, Mauklings refused to touch any “heretic” who used magic with a ten-foot pole. There was always an air of haughtiness when Atlesian and Maukling butted heads in negotiations despite the obvious difference in standing. However, the defiance that usually peeked through their inferiority was completely gone, replaced only by an almost primal fear.

The inquisitor threw him to the side on reflex. He was slightly unnerved. He thought it was some kind of street vagrant but he wore the gaudy garb of a Mauklendi ambassador, however disheveled. He pressed his hand to an aether crystal receptacle built into the wall and whispered a few words. “This way, Maukling,” the inquisitor almost spat with derision. He held open the palace door and let the ambassador inside. The ambassador shuffled inside, almost slipping on the polished wooden floor in his haste. He was led along the long corridors, flanked by beautiful ceramic vases and caligraphy scrolls, but he was far too frantic to appreciate them. Finally, he reached the emperor’s reception chambers. The emperor himself sat behind a veil so that only his silhouette was visible to the ambassador, and the only light in the room came from behind him.

“Speak,” the guard commanded.

“P-p-portal, f-fire… help!” the ambassador yelped.

The silhouette of True Emperor Iliya Shang waved over an attendant and whispered into his ear. The attendant nodded, then stood up. “The Emperor commands you to calm down and speak.”

“I-I-I…”

The Emperor waved over the attendant again. “Deep breaths”

The ambassador nodded and gulped in air like a fish out of water.

“Are you ready now?”

The ambassador nodded again and smoothed out his crumpled clothes in an attempt to recover his lost dignity. “We weren’t native to Maukland. We were driven from our homeland centuries ago by disgusting heretics.”

“Heretics, you say? Do you mean mages?” The Emperor spoke through his attendant. His words contained a hint of mild irritation.

“No no no no no no, I meant no affront to Atlesian mages,” the ambassador waved his hands around in panic. “These heretics, their magic was more eldritch, more … inhuman than anything you’ve ever thought of. Bodies, contorting and folding in on themselves, bulging and pulsating.” The ambassador shivered. “Bolts, that seem to bleed down from the very stars, lightning cutting scars across the sky, unholy powers beckoned with tongues that should not be spoken.”

“The emperor understands. Move on.” The attendant said impatiently.

“Ahem. Right. It was an old prophecy. Just a few years after we staked our claim on the continent. One of our great prophets said this, I think I remember most of it. Every Mauklendi citizen is made to memorize it.

With god-beckoned thunder,

And malformed eyes,

Under a new moon,

When the infant year cries,

Unholy Altgard.

In a lonesome field,

Trampled by feet,

Our armies will yield,

And our lands deplete.

Unholy Altgard.

A bloody vengeance.

An endless sea.

Expecting all that is,

And what will be.

Unholy Altgard.

And when their deeds are done,

The beasts will crawl,

To break the Sun,

And the world will fall.

Unholy Altgard.”

The silhouette of the emperor shook his head. “All this fear mongering aside, what exactly is this all about?”

“The End Times have come, great Emperor!” the ambassador shouted. “Please! You have to help us!”

“Help you with what? You come into the emperor’s court spouting some nonsense fortune telling about some ‘unholy Altgard’ with not a single bit of fact and you expect Atlesia to help you?”

“Please, Great Emperor, Altgard has truly come. They’re razing Maukland as we speak.”

The emperor stood up and turned away. “You’ve had a long day. One of the retainers will escort you to a guest room. The emperor will speak with you tomorrow?”

“Please, Great Emperor—” The ambassador stood up to get closer to the veil but before he could, one of the guards seized him by the arms.

“The emperor will see you tomorrow morning.”

As soon as the dignitary was dragged out of the room by an inquisitor, the emperor clapped his hands and summoned another attendant. “Call up the Han family, Dao, the Phoenix guild, the Seven, everyone. We might have something of an emergency on our hands.”

Spring 45

“Iliya! It’s been too long.” The emperor turned around to see Han Feng, one of his old friends from the days when he was still part of the mage guild Solace and one of the most powerful people in Atlesia. He hadn’t changed much in the past decade or two; aside from a wrinkle or two on his face, he maintained a youthful visage with a lean, wiry body and nary a white hair on his head. A black eyepatch covered his left eye which was his Sigil, the source of his power. Feng clasped hands with his old friend and patted him on the back. “How has the royal court been treating you?”

Iliya winced slightly in good humor. “It’s the same old thing. Neverending work, incompetent nobles, the whole mess.”

“Well at least time has treated you well. You’re still as handsome as ever.” Feng laughed and shook his head. “I’m glad I nominated you for king instead of taking the throne myself.” He gazed out the window into the distance. “It’s hard to imagine that the civil war was twenty five years ago.”

Iliya cringed. “Actually, about wars, we might have another one on our hands.”

“What? Another war? We fought the civil war to stop Atlesia from needless bloodshed. We’ve already fought the Maukling war.”

“I know, I know,” Iliya admitted. “I’ll tell you the details with the others. Come on.” He led Feng into the conference room. Iliya walked to the head of the table and spread out his arms. “Welcome, friends, children, family… Dao.”

“Hey!” Dao Yaoguang, the former Minister of Justice protested. He was already in his late sixties but he hadn’t lost a shred of his powerful bearing. A round of soft laughter rippled around the room.

“Still haven’t forgiven you for wrecking Solace,” Iliya muttered half jokingly. “But I digress. I’ve gathered everyone here to discuss a matter of utmost importance.”

“Is it your rapidly decreasing aptitude?” Gwynneth, the Seven of Strength, interjected earning herself a high five from her father Feng and a light slap on the shoulder from her mother Haoyue.

“Ha ha, very funny. Last time I checked, though, you and your father’s aptitude combined wasn’t even half of mine.” His smile faded from his face. “Jokes aside, we may have something of a situation on our hands. A couple days ago, an ambassador from our Maukling... friends arrived at the palace bearing news that they had been invaded by one of their ‘ancient’ enemies: Altgard. From what I could piece together from his incoherent rambling, they invaded on New Year’s day through some kind of portal near the eastern border of Maukland.”

“Huh… portal magic? What kind of nonsense is that?” asked Barett as he adjusted his crimson bandanna.

Hyde coughed into his fist. “We’ve never been able to do that with conventional aether-based magic. The closest one I can think of is General Vivian’s dimension hopping with her Sigil. But even then, to create a portal on a scale large enough to fit an entire army would be outside the scope of even what a Sigil holder could do.”

“It matters less as to how they managed to do this, what really matters are the ramifications of this invasion,” Iliya continued. “Mages at our garrisons in Maukland have reported an influx of refugees and strange weather patterns. Whoever these Altgardians are, they bring great power with them.”

“Are you suggesting we jump into another war?” Dao Yaoguang asked. “We fought the civil war to stop Averus from starting new wars. The Maukland invasion was unavoidable, yes, but we don’t have to fight here.”

Gwynneth chuckled. “Well, it wasn’t called the seven day war because it was a long and arduous confrontation. We asserted the dominance of our magic quite firmly. Who’s to say these Altgardians aren't just as pathetic?”

Tomoe shook her head at Gwynneth. “Hello? Did you hear a word of what the emperor said? Hordes of refugees? Weather manipulation? Doesn’t that sound the least bit worrisome?”

“We could send in a quick decapitation strike. Find their leadership, kill them. End this war before it even starts,” Feng suggested.

Haoyue stood up. “Everybody calm down for a second. “We have no information whatsoever on the Altgardians. We don’t even know what’s on the other side of that portal. This invasion could either be their whole army, or just a scouting party. Too many unknowns. As of now, our best option is to parlay.”

“Parlaying? Who are we, the Mauklings?” Tomoe asked indignantly.

Iliya took a deep breath. “Haoyue is right. Hyde, bring the Mauklendi ambassador. You’ll need a translator.”