Deoria, Kingdom of Divinium, Eastern region of Rohana Federation, 2051 S.C., 27th day
The old chamber smelled of beeswax and the heavy scent of dust. The walls of dark mahogany spawned from the olden hardwood climbing past the shadowed galleries from which specters can observe debates on the desk beneath. Speaking of desks, they were arranged in a layout suited for debates. Above those desks, a large chandelier was crowning the coffered ceiling.
Dominating the anterior wall banners of both Divinium and Rohana spanned down, complementing the darkness of the wood. And below it, there was a sole podium for the main speaker.
This was the ruling chamber of Divinium, where representatives gathered to discuss the events that occurred in the Divinium kingdom. And today was one of those days.
The heavy brass doors at the rear of the chamber were pushed wide open by two servants, each pushing each wing, and through the breach marched six figures.
One figure, slender and sharp in grey, paused to adjust a monocle. Next to him, a man buried beneath a heavy chestnut overcoat moved with lumbering steps, his bearded face set in a severe grimace. They brought with them the smell of rain-slicked cobblestones and expensive, acrid tobacco. The third to follow was Arthur Pridens, followed by three other men also dressed lavishly.
They did not speak. As they advanced toward the converging lines of desks, they looked less like councilors arriving for a debate and more like undertakers arriving to measure a corpse.
They sat down, shifting their gaze towards the podium as the seventh person arrived.
The man in his early twenties was clad in a frock coat of crushed-velvet blood-red. The fabric's intricate black embroidery, suggestive of thorns or perhaps fractals, crawled across the sharp lapels and flared cuffs, a dark baroque detail that underscored the industrial pragmatism.
"This better be worth my time," murmured the man with a monocle to Arthur.
"Dreyfus, you should show respect to our majesty," Arthur whispered back. "He earned the majority backing; you have to get over it already."
"I still think my son was the better choice," Dreyfus continued. "Even you were a better choice."
The young man coughed loudly.
"If the two gentlemen are done with their business, I'd like us to focus on the matter at hand."
"Of course, your majesty," Richard quickly responded, offering a sincere bow of apology.
"Alright, then I assume all of you have already gotten the information about the attacks happening in the Koderma Valley. The clergy, of course, expects our military to handle the attackers."
He took a deep breath, and his face showed a grave look. "What you don't know is that we sent a small platoon, thirty men strong, to deal with the attackers, expecting some bandits. They were all wiped out. Some of their bodies were strung naked and nailed to the wooden crosses. These bastards were mocking the creators themselves. And we do have accounts of some survivors that faceless men are responsible."
There was a murmur among the six men.
"Are you saying these bandits have the firepower to battle our military? That is preposterous!" Dreyfus spoke out first. "I find this failure of royalty."
"Dreyfus," one of the men shouted.
"Don't dare intervene, Willhelm. This is my quarrel," Dreyfus looked menacingly at the gentleman who wore a matte forest green jacket with a distinct rustic boutonnière featuring dried wildflowers on it.
"Your majesty, to be clear, I'm not putting the burden of blame on you." Dreyfus corrected himself. "The competence of the army has been an issue brewing long before, and now we have allowed mere bandits to mock us in battle. How is this possible with all the weaponry at our disposal?"
The king stood with a long look at Dreyfus, maintaining his composure at what clearly were insults. But for the sake of unity, he decided to overlook it.
"It is high time to stop calling these people assailants, bandits, or whatever name we choose to downplay them. They are clearly organized and have advanced weaponry themselves. As much as it pains me to say it, I'll refer to them by the name their sympathizers name them — Navians."
"Your majesty," Arthur spoke up. "And where did these Navians get the advanced weaponry? We are pretty strict with the weapon trades, and any advanced weaponry is strictly for military use. So that would rule out citizens and villagers."
"You are right, Arthur," the king smiled weakly. "I assume you want to share your discoveries with the council."
"But the patriarch of the Divinium church dismissed them when I brought them up."
"No, he only told you back then not to go forward with the information without concrete proof. I don't think we need more proof."
"What is he talking about, Arthur?" Dreyfus turned to him. "Is this something related to my nephew?"
"I'm sorry to say it, but yes. And it is not only your nephew. There are others, too. My fellow council members, I am sad to say, but we have traitors in our midst."
Once again, the murmur occurred among the council members.
"My nephew was no traitor. He and his younger brother were killed when they were taken for ransom. It broke my brother as they were his only heirs." Dreyfus said.
"That is what the church decided to go with as the story. Reports were changed to reflect it. But we've found evidence they were aiding the cult."
"No, that can't be right," Dreyfus said weakly.
"I am not surprised by this turn of events." A man whose face had grimaced earlier grimaced no more. "The Hervatti family didn't come into nobility by virtue of their efforts, but by sabotaging others."
Dreyfus stood up. "I dare you to come here and repeat it, Cormac!"
Cormac stood up and went across the floor, approaching Dreyfus when Arthur intervened.
"We will not do this here, Cormac. If you have something to resolve, you know the law," Arthur said coldly.
"Tsch," Cormac hissed and went back to his seat. Dreyfus was eyeing him, and the look in his eyes said that their conflict was far from done.
"I will have order," the king interjected. "This council must show unity. Infighting will only benefit Navians."
"Your majesty, sorry to interject, but I must ask, do we have any idea why they decided to resume their activities? We had no sightings since the attack on Haugstad. And most of those men were already dead." Willhelm asked.
"You assume we were talking about a dozen men. Dreyfus may have his opinion of our forces, but taking a platoon takes more than a dozen men. It seems they were busy regrouting members—and not only villagers, as we initially thought. As for the reason, it is unknown. But they made sure we received the message."
"And so I have issued an order for a company of three hundred to be gathered and sent out to the region with the air support as well. We won't suffer another defeat."
The men in the room applauded.
"However, there is another matter I wish to discuss today," the king said.