"Forward!" Cried the Archmage as his men surged forward, sending the Umbracresti Regional Guardsmen in their path scattering in all directions.
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Erato Dacamini, Dragoon-Mage (Archmage) of the Order of the Dragoon, had been placed in command of Operation Butcher, the combined Cerulean-Vorantine counteroffensive on Umbracrest. Anyone worthy of being respected by Cerulea AND Vorantis simultaneously was nothing less than extraordinary. Four years ago, in 79 EH, the Cerulean Council of Celestial Seers had voted unanimously to select him as the successor to Archmage Drasè.
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Since then he had been a sharp barb in the side of the Grand Army as it invaded the Southwest. Dracamini had managed to push the UEGNA forces back into Umbracrest halfway through the current year, 83 EH.
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With the full support of Technocrat pro tempore Thomas Norik, Archdeacon Altan of Celestia Province, and even of His All Holiness (Archbishop Vance of Ecclesia) behind him as he crossed the fast-flowing River Uurimaarin which cleaved the Diocese of Worshi in two, captured Bronch - a fortress town situated between the two branches of the smaller River Kaijan - and especially as he had marched towards Mestae: subregional capital of Mestae and by Rissau and, more importantly, the seat of the House of Hessen.
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The sister cities of Mestae and Rissau had emerged as powerful city-states when the Colestis Imperii had collapsed in 689 YBP (917 years before 83 EH). They later united with a plethora of other microregions to form the modern Margravate that had joined Umbracrest in 300 YBP.
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The Sorcerers of the Order of the Dragoon were the most advanced users of what is called Thaumaturgy (Miracle Working) by the Academy of the Adept. In layman's terms: Magic.
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Sorcerer Dratov was proud to serve Cerulea and he fought harder when he caught sight of the respected Dragoon Captain Dracozo.
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A troop of twenty-five men led by a one-eyed Lord Sergeant-Major turned their attention to Dratov
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"Lads!" He snapped, "Take that Thuamaturge down for me!"
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Sorcerer Dratov had studied Létt galdur (Light Magic) under Dragonlord-Commander Bright and did not hesitate to use it offensively. He pulled out his staff, topped with one of Cerulea`s fiercely protected Veilstones and began drawing patterns in the air with his free hand.
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"By a olpirt c a aoiveae, ol aldon a radiant lance de quansb a enemy!" He intoned in a grave voice.
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["By the light of the star, I collect the radiant lance to destroy the enemy!"]
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A long pole ending in a vicious point immediately manifested in his right hand. Its glow was luminous enough to be painful to look at.
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Cerulean magic / thaumaturgical sciences worked on piety: the more sincere the belief of the user, the more powerful it was. Dratov had prayed every morning to Africum of the Southwest, directional Goddess of faith and protector of the Order of the Dragoon.
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The Radiant Lance Spell was no exception to this rule.
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With one quick stab, the entire troop burst into flames.
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Their cries of anguish as heavenly flamed seared the flesh from blackened bones that crumbled into a fine dust would stay will Dratov for many years.
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Dragoon Captain Dracozo fell to the ground beside him, his armour riddled with enough holes to function as an oversized cheese grater. Blood poured from these wounds as the knight tried and failed to speak, his words coming out as muffled gurgles.
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"O meridians c a southeast, mend unal wounds! heal ol brothers, restore c blans ugear!" The sorcerer called out.
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Nothing happened.
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The Dragoon felt an intense pain spreading outwards from his chest.
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A steel bayonet, seventeen inches long, now jutted out from him. He struggled to breathe the air he had lost from the gasp back in. His inhales came out as ragged rasps while the exhales had become weak, high-pitched squeaks.
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The soldier behind him, a young Narcissian private, had an expression of shock on his face.
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The sorcerer returned his stare sadly as he silently prayed.
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"Oh." The private muttered as the Dragoon slid onto the ground.
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Everything went black for Sorcerer Dratov as he bled out on the ground next to his fallen comrade.
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Hoping that the daughters of Occidens would take pity on him and let him die quickly.
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________________________________________
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"Erzherzog," Tiber said aloud, rolling the new title around in his mouth to get a feel for it.
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He decided it had a ring to it.
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As did his new look. He had chosen to remind everyone around him by wearing the colours of the House of Hesse with a purple suit worn under a shimmering silver cape. They all bowed even lower to the new Erzherzog Consort of the West. The Umbracresti people celebrated their new archducal family, for it had been over three decades since the extinction of the House of Ego-Westerling, which had reigned (though only in name after the death of Erzherzogin Regnant Ursa, the 6th ruler) until 51 EH
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Tiber had successfully carried out one of two tasks given to him by Aunax Hessen to prove his worth. His friendship with Archcount-Khagan Urlic had been valuable in persuading him to confirm his newlywed wife, Xuana Hessen-Rostova, as the 11th Erzherzogin of Umbracrest and the first to hold the title since Delphine Eala Noyra Ego-Westerling.
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Hessen-Rostov. His new, double-barrelled surname was still alien to Tiber. Was he part of a new archducal house?
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Tiberius Atticus Hessen-Rostov was not sure he was ready for fatherhood, but he had no choice now; his son, Großherzog (Grand Duke) Lothar of Greater Biogi, had been born three days ago.
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Anuax had written him a letter about his daughter`s joy at Lothar`s birth, and how motherhood became her. That same letter had also contained a mildly threatening reminder that he still had to kill someone to gain his trust.
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As luck would have it, an opportunity to carry out this order presented itself the moment the airship provided by the BCU touched down in Noctè.
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Noctè - sometimes spelled phonetically as Noctae - was the de jure Regional Capital of Umbracrest. Before the Western Reunification, Noctè had been a Free City aligned with the Free Western Enclave and then with the Ad Coelum Federation of Syndicates. The city's defiance towards the De Naptons as the sole remaining cadet branch of Ego-Westerling (itself a cadet branch descended from the youngest child of Earl Emeric, Lord Thallo Ego) had led to the De Napton seat of Météore becoming the de facto capital.
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Tiber had been contacted by Margravine Sophie De Napton, second daughter of Herzogin Victoria, asking for his protection as she feared her life was in danger.
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It was. The only difference was that it the threat was not Hessen himself, but his son-in-law. Sophie`s younger sister, Joanna, had already been tortured to death on the orders of the Chairman and disguised as her volunteering as a test subject in an experiment gone very, very wrong.
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Unbeknownst to the Margravine, she was walking into a trap. Her older sister Blanche and Father had scrambled to reach the agreed meeting place in Biogi, but they were far too late.
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Tiber forced himself to look at Sophie as they ate lunch as agreed.
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She was exactly the sort of person that his mother would have wanted him to marry when he was younger: lithe, graceful, and emotional.
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Such a person bored him now.
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"Erzherzog," She began politely, using his new title to flatter him, "I'm so glad you could meet me at such short notice. I imagine you are eager to return to your new family, yes?"
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Tiber paused for a moment, watching her visible discomfort at the sudden silence. This was a person who liked the sound of her own voice, it would seem.
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"Yes. What is it that you wanted to ask me?" He said bluntly.
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"I fear my life is in danger! My uncle Varo and my younger sister both died under...suspicions circumstances." She whispered, failing to hide the note of terror in her words.
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"Nonsense! Who would dare to attack the most noble House of De Napton? You are all popular with the Jassaus, Kleists, Lünders, and the Occids. Who would wish harm upon your family?" He replied, his upbeat and jovial tone contrasting with what he really knew.
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"It's those damn Hessens, they hate LOATHE us!"
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"Loathe is a strong wor-"
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"I know it was Margrave Anuax who killed my uncle! His niece, Vizegräfin Xeina Hessen-Archaea of Eukaro, tried to meet with me last week. I'm his next target and I need your help!" She shrieked, her calm façade breaking as she lost her nerve.
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"Please..." She begged, all shy and sweet.
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Tiberius was not fooled, his inlaws had taught him that the beautiful, sweet, or colourful things were often the most dangerous. 'Take honey for example,' Xuana had explained, "It's sweet and delicious, but will give infants botulism!"
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"Margrave Hessen is indeed targeting you," he admitted, "but my good freind Uric can protect you from him."
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The Margravine burst into sardonic giggles. "The Archcount-Khagan? We both know that Anuax would eviscerate Urlic Ego-Estrin-Romanakov in seconds. We have a word in Umbracrest for people who act like him: Schadenfreude, it means pleasure derived from the misfortune of others."
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Tiber remembered something that Margravine Sophie had done to his older brother. She had left his older brother (who had been promoted from Diplomat to Ambassador for UEGNA by 83 EH) for his infertility. A Master Adept of Urology had diagnosed him with Y chromosome microdeletion after Marjorie Rostov decided to seek specialist help to uncover the mystery of her first child's inability to conceive.
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"Do you remember my elder brother, Louis?"
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The Margravine`s hazel eyes widened in horror. "Faintly, why?"
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"Do you regret it?" Tiber asked darkly, reaching into his Cape to produce a shiny æther pistol. It was snub-nosed and compact, but still packed a powerful punch. He levelled it so that he was aiming directly between her eyes.
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"I...why?!" She squeaked.
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"Did you regret it?" He repeated menacingly.
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"I did after a while. But why would you want to do this, Tiber? You've always been a kind man, whatever happened to your disdain for politics?"
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"I got older and wiser. I'm done letting people stab me in the back. Aunax didn't kill your Uncle, his daughter did." He explained coldly, his trademark sly smirk had disappeared and left a venomous scowl in its place.
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"Is she really worth all of this? Are you going to sit and watch idly as they tear a family apart for their own gain? Whatever Anuax wants, we'll give him it!"
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"Yes, I will do all of these things, because MY new family will not be safe until we controll it all. This is just the beginning of his plans, do you know who Gloria Ego-Estrin-Romanakov is?"
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The Margravine let out a sob. Her sadness at seeing such a moral and good person become so corrupted was written all over her face.
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"The...the princess? What could he possibly want with her?"
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"It's quite simple actually: when the time comes, she will be paired with Lothar, Rionault will suffer an...accident and UEGNA will be ours."
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"The BCU did a study on snakes once, they put specimens of every western snake in a pot and closed the lid. They found that Gustav`s Viper was the most venomous and would nearly always emerge from the pot. It was named for the progenitor of the Hessens."
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"Very apt, I suppose you imply that I am a snake?"
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"All of them are." She muttered.
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There was a flash of blue light and an acidic smell as the pistol decorated the wall with the contents of Sophie De Napton`s skull.
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"That was for Louis Rostov." He snarled at her remains before gathering up his silvery cape and leaving. On the way out, a gaurd bearing a silver snake on his uniform called out to him, "What does His Serene Highness want us to do with the traitor?" He asked respectfully.
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The Hessen-Rostov placed his arm the guard`s shoulder carefully, "There was an attack, the traitor locked herself in the building that was bombed. I believe you know what to do, Master-at-arms?"
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"Proceed!" He snapped at the gaurds next to him.
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"This way Erzherzog Tiberius, we don't want you in the blast zone." He said with a grin.
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Tiber nodded.
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