The long-awaited 88th year of hope had finally arrived and everyone was beginning to realise why the war had started: Internal conflict.
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The Second Coalition War was but a distraction – a sideshow on the world stage – from the silent coup d'État occurring all over Empyrea.
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Artè, Aquiloria; Austerium, Vorantis; Noctè, Umbracrest; Worcester, Narciss. Nowhere was safe from them so long as they remained semi-incognito.
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Those in the know, privy to the secrets that were best guarded, desperately hid the most worrying revelation of all. Urlic, who must have been in the crosshairs right from the start, was the key to the whole damn world.
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Regardless of how many concerning schemes were slowly turning UEGNA into a pressure cooker, none of them could trouble Mikal van Blücher for a while. A hard-won, two-week leave of absence, shielded him from internal politics.
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Stripped of his uniform, decorations, medals, and Marshal's baton, Blücher was no different from any other old man. Slumped wearily into a chair, wearing little more than a thick dressing gown, beaming at two younger women; he was at his happiest as a grandpa.
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The elder of the two sisters was Katherina van Blücher, who went by the diminutive "Nina". At her current age of twenty-four, she had taken her education as a Master Adept of Theatre as well as her lithe features, silky auburn hair, and expressive brown eyes to the booming film industry. Nina had already become recognised as a Starlet early in her career as an Actress by 88 EH.
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The younger of the two was Callisto van Blücher, aged sixteen. She closely resembled her grandfather with her sharp cheekbones and pale eyes. Her personality, though, could not have been more different. Callisto, named after a Battlecruiser from the First Coalition War, was the antithesis of the Marshal's cold, ruthless façade to such an extent that her mere presence would brighten the darkest of rooms with her innate compassion and joy.
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Family reduced the towering officer into a cheerful elderly man surrounded by loved ones, which was exactly why he fought so hard to maintain an illusion of invincibility.
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"I...heard that a Vizier has taken an interest in you. Is that the truth, Nina?" He asked gently, a worried look spreading across his lined face betraying his discomfort with the idea.
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"Yes! Miss Mary Larke has offered me a role in a propaganda film, isn't that great?" Nina replied cheerfully, clearly not privy to what Mikal knew about that particular advisor.
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Anastasia Carly, his wife, grimaced and shifted anxiously in her chair. She must have known where this conversation was going, "Maybe tell her another ti-" she began carefully.
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Blücher silenced her by raising his hand.
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"What do you know about Vizier Larke?" He demanded, the Marshal replacing the grandfather with frightening speed.
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"She is..." Nina paused momentarily, "A very nice lady, she treats me well." She was a dying flower under the withering glare he was giving her at that moment.
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The inevitable accusation was flat yet not entirely without emotion, "You don't know anything about her; I would be surprised if you did."
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"W-what is there to know? Have I done something wrong, Grandpa?" She stammered, frightened of invoking a rare instance where the usually calm Mikal lost his temper.
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"Vizier for Media Larke is the De facto leader of the Conclave of Viziers in addition to her position as Director-General of the Northeastern Broadcasting Corporation. She may pretend to be benevolent, but she is the most venomous scheming advisor I have ever had the displeasure of knowing. Yet that is not why I am frightened; her master is what keeps me awake at night." His hands, normally steady, trembled.
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Blücher tried to speak again, but the words caught in his throat. His wife finished it for him, "You're Grandfather is uncomfortable with you working for Vizier Larke because she is backed by the Hessens. They grow stronger by the day." The colour leeched from her skin, leaving her a pale ghost as she spoke again, "Keep an eye on Umbracrest. Even if Margrave Anuax is dying like they say, his work is nearly complete and that one can stop them now, only delay. Even Urlic will only be around as long as they permit it. When this war ends...everything will implode."
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The two grandchildren exchanged a look filled with dread.
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"Callisto," Mikal intoned suddenly, startling everyone else, "I need you to go West. Get on their good side, please."
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Her eyes glistened with tears. "Why?"
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Blücher had a traumatised, faraway look in his eyes as he stared at a picture of his beloved late son on the mantlepiece. "She will come for me sooner rather than later." He said cryptically.
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The two sisters fell silent.
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What was there to say?
________________________________________
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Xauna had been watching her father closely for two weeks now.
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Despite the steps he had taken to disguise his weakness, he could no longer hide his failing health from his daughter.
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Margrave Anaux Hessen, Chairman of the BCU and silent shadow of fear in Empyrea had been reduced to a toothless, seventy-two-year-old tiger.
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Put simply, he had been slowly dying for months.
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"You...did well to remove Herzog Natasha De Napton and send quite the message to our enemies. I am proud of you." He said weakly but sincerely nonetheless.
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Xuana Hessen-Rostova remained silent, letting the tension increase until her father spoke once more.
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"Xuana, I haven't been truly honest with you about something despite how much it pains me to deceive you. I had an operation to remove an adenocarcinoma three months ago, it bought me time but it is running out."
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She already knew that he had developed pancreatic adenocarcinoma – cancer of the pancreas – as his doctor had confessed to her. Even the doctor had said nothing, there was no hiding the Chairman's symptoms anymore; he had turned a sickly, pale yellow, was stooped forward to alleviate abdominal pain, and had lost weight.
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"You think I missed the fact you had turned yellow, father?" She snarled at him, "You have a month at most. Tell me everything I need to know before it is too late."
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The once mighty Margrave folded under the pressure. "Blücher will extend the war and Rêverie-Montclair will paralyse my influence within the Conclave until they are both dealt with. Luckily for you, I have arranged for the obstacles in your path to be cleared after my death."
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Xauna lazily stretched out on the couch, "Go on." She urged him.
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"The Marshal and the Grand Vizier will be killed in an attack while the Conclave will be bombed in the 89th and 90th years of hope respectively. The BCU has captured the Deputy Warden of Skála and forced information about the Ghost Fleet out of him, we have developed a chemical method of controlling it." He said casually, as if discussing the weather rather than mass death and destruction.
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Xauna was impressed by her father, she hadn't dreamed his postmortem plans would be so ambitious. The old man, to his credit, was still razor sharp despite his advanced age. "What will the Ghost Fleet do?" She asked eagerly.
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"In the 94th year, Chinggis-Dorj will lose control of it and force the Archcount-Khagan to move his wife and children to the mainland, the war will be over by then. I sent Lothar to the Dependency of Skála while Urlic wasn't looking – he is a remarkable child and a worthy grandson." He said, a note of pride in his voice. Pride in himself and his kin.
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However, pride, as they say, comes before a fall.
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"What has Lothar done that you are so pleased with him?" She asked curiously, silently enraged that her dying father still had the backbone left to do such a thing.
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"Why he befriended Princess Gloria and discovered a relic of the old world – 'Great' Grand Khatun Dowager Xarai Estrin." He explained smugly, a little of his old confidence returning.
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"You want me to poison Urlic and Rionault at the signing of the Treaty to make Gloria the Archcountess-Khatun?" She asked bluntly.
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"Urlic does not want to sit on the throne, nor do I want him on it. I'm sure Gloria and Lothar will make a delightful couple." He mused to himself before adding, "A shame I won't live to see it."
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He knew why Xuana was there, then.
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"Don't insult my intelligence, Xuana, I know why you are here: to put me out of my misery. Why pretend otherwise?"
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"You knew."
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Anaux Hessen seemed to regain his health, he stood up to his full height with only a slight wince. A wrinkled, liver-spotted hand reached up to his forehead and came back stained with more yellow.
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"You have a lot to learn, Xuana. Before you ask I AM dying, just not as fast as I pretended to be. I have around six months left to live, but I wanted to give you a final lesson anyway," he admitted.
"Firstly, you must never, under any circumstances, trust anything if it plays out exactly as planned - there is such as thing as too perfect. Secondly, an umbrella like this one," he picked up a deep purple one with a fierce spike on the tip, "Would be more subtle than the knife you are hiding in your sleeve. Drop it!"
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The knife fell to the floor with a dull thud.
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"Your final lesson: most compromises take you backwards, not forwards."
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Xuana took a step closer and gently pressed him into a hug. Her father, predictably, was as cold on the outside as on the inside. His awkwardness was swapped for a pained look of astonishment when the brolly skewered his heart.
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The rest of Empyrea would breathe a collective – and likely preemptive – sigh of relief when they found out that Anuax Hessen had died.
The headlines loudly exclaimed: "DEATH OF A CHAIRMAN!"
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