-August 22, 2192, Valford, capital of the Kingdom of Urasus -
Deep within the borders of the magical land, today's hall glittered under the light of hundreds of crystal chandeliers. Their glow reflected upon the white marble columns before highlighting the intricate century-old patterns, creating an atmosphere both majestic and steeped in antiquity. Interspersed among these nostalgic walls were massive, heavy oak doors flung wide open to welcome officers in formal suits attending the session. They strode across red carpets linking the center to the partition walls, branching out into designated spots for each individual like roots seizing every chance to survive. At the room's center, long meeting tables of fine wood, exquisitely carved and edged with gold, dominated the view of the suited attendees as they curved around the open space. On every seat, nameplates were neatly arranged facing inward, framed in golden casings and covered with shiny glass that was softly subdued to the eyes from every angle.
Near the center, among middle-aged suits chatting before the session, a young man not yet thirty adjusted his glasses and focused on his computer screen. He wore a dark blue dress uniform with red accents, complemented by a perfectly creased tie matching the attire below. "Handsome" was the only word to describe him amid the refined gentlemen, with fair skin, a high nose, and shining green eyes. His brown, curly hair further enhanced this "fresh-faced youth" beauty often mentioned by girls from Chainin. Unfortunately, part of his charm was obscured by silver-rimmed glasses and a nameplate reading "Ministry of Economy: Prince Zerain Rethres" on his desk.
He remained seated, typing diligently on his computer while reading an encrypted email. For ten minutes he stayed immersed in his world, indifferent to the nearby old men's chatter or the royal guard's coordinated instructions. Suddenly, a warm, deep voice called out, pulling him back to reality.
"Has the Crown Prince not arrived, Zerain?" A familiar tone, low and resonant, with words worn by many months, echoed softly.
"Ah, Lord Reth! It's an honor to see you again!" Zerain bowed his head and extended a hand to shake.
"As for the Crown Prince, he's probably in his private quarters. Last night, I heard some guests visited him." He replied politely with a touch of sarcasm, after shaking hands with the gentleman before him.
Opposite him stood a man with two-toned hair, spinning the answer he'd just given. The man wore a dark blue dress uniform similar to the young prince's, decorated with glittering golden accents that revealed their rank difference. Unlike the other formal and elderly suits around, he wore a dark mask concealing the upper half of his face. Beneath it, a long white scar stretched down his neck, as if preserving unforgettable days. His salt-and-pepper hair was still neatly styled and full under its held form. Indeed, no matter where he went, he maintained meticulous care.
"Is that so?" The man only sighed once then leaned back after tapping twice on the floor. He paid no attention to the young man next to him, fixing his black pupils on the session's chair.
At the hall's head sat the Supreme Emperor of Nation. The aged gentleman, with graying hair and an austere face, carried a presence so majestic and severe that none dared breathe heavily. Cloaked in a royal red robe symbolizing supreme power, the exquisite garment was woven from the nation bloc's rarest silk. Below him, political core members sat along rows facing the center to await individual reports on member countries—an annual meeting of the "Emperor's Parliament."
"One hour to go!" Lord Reth glanced at his watch, finger pointing at seven, then slowly closed his eyes.
"Yes!"
Away from the bustling auditorium and crowded corridors, Stratos in his dress uniform walked briskly over intricately embroidered carpets cornering the building. Then, those polished leather shoes came to a halt before a door. Knocks sounded sharply, followed by a harsh creak as the door swung open. As the figure allowed darkness to wrap around his body in the bedroom, every detail of his handsome face promptly twisted. Musk, sweat, and unnamed traces from a wild night recoiled, slapping across the young general's airway. This thick, dense atmosphere filled nearly every corner of the room, the terrifying power of the biblical sinner indeed!
In the shadowed corners, weak magical lights tried to illuminate their target. After a while, a sigh escaped his lips though these images had long been imprinted in his mind. Arthur Rethres, Nation's Crown Prince and future heir to the throne, lay sprawled on a lavish bed amid tangled blankets. Around him, three "honored guests," or rather three beautiful naked girls, clung to the Asian man's arms. Scattered on the floor were clothes from underwear to exquisite dresses, intermixed with bags holding white fluids like remnants of a superstorm. The room, once adorned with gilded paintings and refined furnishings, resembled a brothel filled with indulgence and wildness where all restraint had shattered.
Standing in the middle of the room, the tall figure clad in deep blue ceremonial dress emanated the serious aura of a nation bloc officer rather than a young general. His pitch-black eyes flashed with angry light surveying the scene with usual coldness. Yet beneath his raised brow lingered a contempt he made no attempt to hide. The commander remained expressionless, tilting his head slightly, as if used to the debaucheries of the man on the bed. A customary sigh arose, as if carrying disappointment for a comrade in arms yet different in nature.
"Prince, you're late!" He spoke with undisguised displeasure at the future leader's irresponsibility.
Arthur's eyes fluttered open, lips curling into a lewd smile as if the general's presence was a surprise entertainment. He lazily sat up, tousled black hair falling over his forehead, and two-toned dark blue eyes twinkled with cunning. He twisted his body, stretched his arms, then smirked, facing his opponent.
"Ah... joker!" Arthur drawled, dragging the last word to tease.
"The boring meeting's over?" He yawned loudly, then theatrically stretched revealing his bare upper half beneath a thin blanket, indifferent to Stratos or the sleeping girls nearby. He flicked back his hair to reveal a rakish face just over thirty and eyes charming enough to captivate any pretty girl.
Stratos didn't bother speaking. His feet slowly approached the prince then stopped close enough for their breaths to collide. Then his hand reached out, grasping the thin blanket concealing the other's firm physique. With a quick motion, the red fabric was yanked away, revealing the potential nation bloc ruler fully naked. Arthur didn't resist, hands resting on the bed as he casually displayed himself, legs spread, eyebrows raised with his usual half-smile. His baton from last night dangled before Stratos, marked by a faint dried blood ring as if mocking the heir's concern for dignity. Instead, it was a challenge to his comrade. The two men locked eyes, their minds alive with the clashing sounds of swords and maces. After a while, Arthur laughed arrogantly, as though Stratos's seriousness was a joke. But the arrogance didn't last long. He rose, once again stretched lazily, his unhurried debauched posture reminding all as if the world could wait for the whims of this lustful body. Then he raised both hands as if surrendering to fate.
"You win, but I'm tired!" He teased, half-joking.
"Tell Father I'm sick today and can't attend."
Then, his dark blue pupils shifted to golden amber as Arthur shot a teasing glance, lips curled into a smile all men understood. He leaned toward the three used "goods" curled on the bed. Though still sleeping from an intense night, these young beauties were famous models of the nation bloc, somehow maintaining feminine grace and gentleness.
"In exchange... which one's your favorite? I'll give them all. I heard out there you lack the scent of women—"
Bang!
A magic gunshot cut through the prince's words. A bullet glowing red grazed his ear by centimeters, embedding into the crystal wall behind, leaving a charred streak and a sparkling crack. The ear-piercing noise startled the three used goods awake, hastily pulling blankets over sensitive parts, their once-delicate faces now full of panic. They screamed in fright seeing their beloved prince facing the muzzle of the southern phantom, one of the Nation's most fearsome generals. Yet the future emperor showed no fear at all. He merely turned his head slightly, eyed the lodged bullet, then smirked. Facing Stratos again, his smile now carried a challenge.
"Calmdown, little brother," he taunted with playful words.
"Your Majesty, troops have arrived!" Suddenly, noises erupted from somewhere, accompanied by the rhythmic pounding of specialized boots on carpet.
In less than a minute, six royal guards flooded into the room, pointing magical rifles at the gunman. Yet all recoiled upon recognizing the identity threatening their prince's life.
"P-General Stratos!" They all stepped back as the sharp glance swept through them.
"You have fifteen minutes to prepare, Your Highness!" Stratos held his pistol steadily, aimed at Arthur.
Saying this, he holstered his gun and turned. Four guards snapped to attention behind him, turning to give way. They gripped their weapons tightly, eyes fixed and faces expressionless. Yet he paid no mind, walking straight toward the door. Outside, he turned toward a corner and began exhaling word by word.
"If you don't appear, I won't hesitate to order you dragged to the hall!" Then his body gradually dissolved, leaving only tiny sparkling deep red particles.
As the door closed and footsteps followed from others, silence filled the room. The prince remained standing in the dim light of a few magic lamps, a thin mocking smile on his lips. He muttered softly, speaking to his elongated shadow on the wall—a brief sneer that the young general was merely stubborn. Turning to the crystal wall behind, he laughed loudly, then leisurely wrapped a scarf around himself. His slow movements no longer bore the previous recklessness. Could their recent confrontation have been a cheap joke, leaving the general with undying belief? Even so, both knew without speaking that the clash wasn't just over orders or views but a sign of a greater rift—two paths, two ideals united in bloc loyalty, yet using utterly opposed methods.
After a while, bells chimed, marking the official start of the annual session. Today was the first day. After a few reports on crucial issues from other officials, the clock struck nine. Lord Reth rose, documents in hand, his polished leather shoes tapping on the red carpet as he moved toward the hall's center. As he walked, he quietly observed the crowd facing him, though fatigue in his aged eyes left little energy to care. At center stage, a royal guard accepted the documents and presented them before the Emperor. The Emperor glanced over the cover, signaling to begin.
Under absolute command, Reth tapped the air lightly, instantly a hologram appeared at each participant's station, displaying numbers and texts in concise, structured form.
"Your Majesty, comrades, officials, in recent months our forces have repelled numerous Organization attacks along the northern border, and maintained the western frontier defenses. However, recent battles revealed significant improvements in enemy weaponry. Their rifles and energy cannons have been greatly enhanced, sufficient to impact our shield fields in fortifications."
He paused briefly, tapping the holographic battlefield display and detailed reports beside it. The previous western frontline of Chanin instantly appeared.
"Nevertheless, our army defended promptly and defeated them. Most recently, on the western front, our Nation Guard not only blocked but destroyed multiple enemy defensive points. Enough to hold key positions and support Nation Force advances ahead. Losses, however, were inevitable. Detailed reports on casualties and military restructuring have been submitted to Your Majesty."
"Do you have the necessary strategy to guarantee upcoming victory?" The Emperor nodded, signaling Reth to continue.
"All is arranged. Yet our research labs still need to improve armor layers and focus on developing magical weapons. Additionally, concerning recruitment and advanced training, I shall discuss further with General Lawlorge, absent today due to the southern front." Reth bowed before the Emperor and answered.
Some at the session nodded in agreement while others exchanged doubtful looks. Then an official immediately rose. Beside him stood a red flag with five golden stars, a nameplate marking "Representative of Chanin."
"To my knowledge, there are reports of your subordinates abusing power at the western border, leading to a senior general's hospitalization. How do you explain this?" The official in a gray vest with a translator earpiece asked.
"I received similar reports. Nevertheless, I affirm we strictly followed established procedures!"
"We do not consider this correct, Oldman. According to Clause 9 Article 2 of the 2083 Political Influence Codex, joint forces of the bloc may not interfere with operations of forces within each nation bloc." The Chanin official began rebuttal.
"I agree with your view on this. Yet, the 2086 amendment to Article 4 of the Political Influence Codex allows joint forces to intervene in regions under suspicion of wrongdoing. Moreover, Decree No. 102 of 2186 updated as a supplement to Article 4 permits Nation Guard to intervene and manage suspected national military units."
"Furthermore, military police investigations from your side show violations at Chanin's western border began four years ago, in 2188. Thus, Nation Guard now has full authority to manage and coordinate western border units," Reth interrupted, not allowing the official to reply.
The official was immediately silenced by the central reporter's statement. Though reluctant, he bowed and thanked for the explanation.
Time flew to 10 a.m. the following day. After many reports on economic issues in various regions and passing resolutions critical to bloc stability.
The report from official Hallelujah covered austerity measures contributing resources to Nation Force offensive in the south. Prince Zerain Rethres, a senior official of the economy and diplomacy ministries, prepared to begin his report on the bloc's current economic issues. Before hundreds of delegates, officials, and voters, he wore a dark blue dress uniform with deep red accents, similar to his first day. Yet, though young, he seemed to swim in the oversized attire. Though tailored for his slender but tall build, everyone sensed it was still far too large. Nevertheless, that did not diminish the confidence shining from his green eyes.
"Your Majesty, and officials, last year our bloc's economy achieved significant progress but also faced many challenges. Postwar growth rose by 15%, generating substantial revenue for both the bloc and member nations. Additionally, rapid completion of major projects in newly joined countries greatly improved their economies. However, prolonged warfare caused considerable damage, especially in agricultural and industrial regions of the south, and recently in the northern postwar and western border areas."
"In the report submitted to Your Majesty, I detailed all viable policies!" He tapped the air, instantly generating a soft copy from the original on the Emperor's table, appearing on every official's screen.
"However, in this session, I propose increasing investment in eastern regions fully recovered from war, alongside tax reduction policies to stimulate domestic production." He continued tapping as a map highlighting marked zones appeared.
"I do not think this is wise, Prince. Annual reports from Japo and the Haw Islands show that although their economies are recovering strongly post-war since 2180, insurgent forces remain active there." Another official spoke up.
"Moreover, Nation Abyss has noticed support and intervention by United in those areas. A military coup could occur as our forces are stretched to support fronts while local troops receive less focus." Another military man rose, dressed in black with a kraken insignia wielding twin spears and a large eye.
"That is an acceptable risk. Given the current situation, production stimulation provides long-term benefits, offsetting short-term losses. Furthermore, I have contingency plans if this strategy fails." Zerain calmly responded to the first official.
"Regarding the second issue, our bloc's joint forces defeated the white monkeys by force, but that does not mean we will apply the same to civilians or neglect national defense. Also, training issues were presented yesterday by Lord Reth and General Leonardo. I hope you paid attention." The young prince began to counter.
"So according to you, these policies aim to cut costs, support cash flow, ensure autonomy, facilitate businesses, economic organizations, and citizens?" The Emperor asked. That simple question expressed his view to opponents.
"Yes, Your Majesty. The goal is to restore, rapidly develop production and commerce, promote growth drivers, prioritize key sectors, and achieve postwar stage targets with GDP growing 7-8% annually. Also, public debt under bloc warning levels and member congresses as per Resolution 36 of 2172. Additionally, urban unemployment below 2%, neighboring areas 4%. Lastly, maintain macroeconomic stability and balance in medium to long term if the campaign continues." Zerain bowed before the Emperor and answered.
The hall fell silent for a moment after his words. Perhaps everyone needed time to digest his speech.
"Moreover, Lord Reth, the ancient art of war says no nation benefits from prolonged war. I hope you understand that the longer it drags, the worse the economy. I hope you and your men end the situation in the west like the unit that crushed the white monkeys in the north over a year ago." He turned to gaze at the masked lord in the hall.
No one noticed, but a slight nod was enough for Zerain to know the other shared his thoughts. Then he faced the Emperor, withdrew a USB, and handed it to the royal guard before him.
"Your Majesty, I have a small request." After receiving approval, he continued.
"If our Nation Guard can end the conflict in the west, I hope you approve diplomatic plans with Organization. I believe peace treaties will win us more than we lose. I will send detailed reports later. Meanwhile, this USB contains immediate benefits and losses we can foresee."
The hall buzzed over the young prince's proposal. However, the Emperor merely raised an eyebrow, glanced at Lord Reth, then back to his son.
"You have thought carefully. I will consider this proposal."
After the morning 2nd session ended, Zerain, slender and pale due to frail health, gently pulled Reth aside as others exited. He spoke softly, as if whispering. In response, Reth nodded slightly and patted his shoulder. Then his polished shoe turned again, blending into the bustling crowd.
After lunch with the royal family, where laughter and wine tried to mask political tension, the young prince invited Reth to his private room. Though both were sons of the Emperor, this chamber was a stark contrast to Crown Prince Arthur's lavish and licentious bedroom. Zerain's room resembled a small library, filled with dark wooden bookshelves, neatly stacked documents, and charts of economic development on the walls. Perhaps years of study and devotion to the nation since school reflected in this room's artifacts. As the door closed, silence remained save for the sound of turning pages and Zerain's soft breath. He stood behind a desk, hands resting on a pile of papers, his green eyes gleaming with worry.
"It's just you and me here, Stratos!" He spoke, moving toward the tea table prepared earlier.
The man nodded, removing his mask. Then fingers tapped his earpiece twice. Under its sensors, the aged face gradually dissolved into deep red particles, revealing the true face beneath. Simultaneously, gray hair faded, replaced by the shiny black of a man in his thirties. Setting the mask on the table, Stratos approached a glass cabinet in the room's corner. Before him stood a tall, spotless cabinet. Behind thick glass rested a fine bottle labeled 2100. He tapped the glass and then glanced back at the young prince.
"You haven't opened it yet?" He asked, tapping the glass lightly.
"The older the wine, the better. Didn't big brother say that too? Also, I plan to open it as a wedding toast when they finally marry." The prince replied, pouring tea into two small clay cups.
"So, Third Prince, what charge do you give me today?" Stratos said as he quickly approached the desk. After a welcoming sigh and a puff, he crossed his legs, lifting a teacup.
"Great Emperor's Robe with Buddha of Compassion? Didn't think you'd like that!" He sipped lightly, lips barely moving, fingers guiding the cup back to its place.
"You didn't just invite me to sip tea, right? What's really on your mind?"
"About cooperation—"
"All your views are in that email." He interrupted the prince, gently lifting the cup and blowing on it.
"Yes…"
Then they sat opposite quietly, as if the outside world had briefly paused. From the window near the bed, harsh midday sunlight softened and gradually spread over the room. Beneath this light, steam rising from hot tea added intimate warmth to the tense atmosphere. Occasionally, one hand gracefully lifted the pot, letting trickling water fill the clay cup. The soft clicking sound interwove through long silences. The young prince gazed into space, seemingly ready to begin an untold story. Yet, he pressed his lips together, keeping the moment calm. Was this an unspoken agreement between two who jointly held unsharable secrets? Finally, what must be spoken was spoken.
"Why haven't you told me about the blood pact?" Zerain asked trembling, legs lightly shaking beneath his dark uniform. Was the weight of this question pressing on his fragile body? His green eyes locked on his counterpart, seeking an explanation, a faint hope for the unspeakable.
Stratos paused briefly. His eyes widened and eyebrows raised. The cup in his hand stayed still near his lips.
"That's not your concern!" He closed his eyes, letting his tongue savor the tea's flavor.
The clock chimed as the hour hand struck one, but to the young prince, it meant little. He bit his lips so hard the skin nearly peeled, his pupils dilated, and green lashes quivered. His hands trembled, fingers gripping a thick dossier, crumpling part of the page's edge. Then he clumsily pushed the files toward the general. Was each page a burden weighing on his chest? On the cover was only the title "Report on the Blood Pact." Though no one knew its contents, they surely were more complex than the six words on the cover.
"This pact's words are no joke! I saw those who signed it alone. All died. Even worse, their souls were torn apart and forever lost to darkness. Don't you see? This path only leads to the abyss!" Zerain slammed his fist on the table, leaning forward.
"Yes!" A single word, then he continued sipping tea.
"Don't brush me off like that!" The prince nearly roared, using all his strength to shout at the other.
"That's not something you can bear alone! It demands those who sign to share responsibility, so no one faces hell alone. You're digging your own grave," he continued.
Stratos remained silent. Then he gently set down his cup and turned his chair toward the window near the exit. He said nothing, letting late afternoon rays caress his pale cheeks and sparse eyebrows. Zerain fell silent too, lips pressed tight, squinting to keep tears hidden. A minute later, he inhaled deeply and quietly sank into his chair.
"So, what deal did you make with it?" He struggled to ask, the question colored with something indescribable.
Glancing at the dark figure, Stratos did not speak. Then his chair turned back, their eyes locking as before with the prince. His eyelids half-closed, hiding part of his emotions—it was truly hard to put into words. Then, from his uniform pocket, a finely engraved dagger flashed under the autumn light. Without warning or joke, the dagger pierced his hand. Fresh blood spilled, staining the table. The prince startled, jumping back, unable to believe what he had seen. What shocked him most was the commander's hand healing instantly after the dagger was pulled out. As if by magic, flesh regenerated within seconds without a scar. It was as if this demonic body transcended human limits, bound by mysterious forces beyond ordinary magic knowledge.
"Only when we reclaim its glory by this hand will it all end!" The general wiped blood from the dagger before folding and placing it in his pocket.
"I fully understand the commitment, and it is a duty! This responsibility forbids retreat!" He stared at the papers but didn't touch them.
"But you, me, and Arthur, aren't we—" Zerain struggled to stay balanced holding the chair's back, legs trembling after witnessing the event.
Stridently negating before sighing, his deep, firm tones filled the room, reaching the other's economic and diplomatic mind. The general admitted he could not trust the prince, especially now. Though Arthur might become a capable king, in his eyes, the prince's leadership was insufficient to lead the bloc to true glory. A heavy breath passed. The general looked at the prince once more, creasing his brow as if weighing what should or should not be said. After a brief silence, he continued with softened diction but the same cold essence.
"You understand your body best. So focus on the emperor's tasks: economy and diplomacy. Other matters, I hope you'll take time for self-care."
He then stood, thanked for the tea, and left Zerain's room. Yet as his shoe reached the door, one more question from the prince made him halt again.
"Have you used Theapon?"
The gem on each sword hilt suddenly glowed, its red hue overwhelming the gentle room light. Yet, the dark gloves only brushed lightly before tapping twice on the blade's handle, and all the light around Zerain instantly extinguished.
"We still have the afternoon session, don't be late!" While his lips formed the words, the mask returned to its place. Then his hair gradually turned gray, and tiny deep red particles began carving a long scar down his neck before his steps resumed.
As the door slowly closed, only the young prince remained alone in the silent room.