#3(I)

"So? Then what happened?"

Tatsumi shrugged. "Well, Prime Minister Honest came bowling up to the Throne Room, fast as he can, his face looking all red and steamy like a piece of fried pork. He gave me such an earful he kind of reminded me of the village elder. Remember that time when we snuck out to hunt those wolves?"

"I remember," Sayo said, putting her hand to her chin. "The elder just exploded."

Prime Minister Honest hadn't exploded, per se, but he had been pretty close. His red-lined face and his puffed-out cheeks would have been a good facsimile of a tomato; which, of course, Tatsumi didn't point out loud as the man ranted and raved before him in the Throne.

It turned out that while the Emperor had the ability and the wherewithal to choose where the Judgements went, he currently could not just send them where he pleased. For the past hundred years, tracing back to the great-grandfather he had never known, the issue of the Throne's Judgments required the approval of all the Empire's Ministries.

"There was a great Famine then," Honest said with an authoritative tone, "And it had been begun by Emperor Zenvun's careless placements of the Judgments. He had not the wit to learn the intricacies of where the territories needed to be blessed, all because his father had died young and therefore could not teach him. The famine caused rebellion, and about twenty years of conflict, during which he was assassinated, and his son, your great-grandfather, was forced to accept the new roles of the Imperial Ministries as his advisors."

It was not a hard and fast rule, of course, thanks to several facts. No court existed to punish the Emperor himself, unless he was assassinated. There was also the fact that rebellion was already a fact, and thus discontent from the populace was already a fact of life. The fact that he'd placed the Judgement of Typhoon on an area littered with the Revolutionary Army, had mollified Honest somewhat. Still, next time he was to inform the ministry council if he ever wanted to cast another Judgment.

Tatsumi was able to understand it all, to an extent. When his village needed to be fed, not everyone was sent out to hunt. People hunted in groups, which alternated every few hours over the course of the day. It was a strictly enforced policy that got him whacked on the bum for either daring to go out when he wasn't supposed to, or when he was caught slacking off when he was.

"The Judgment of Iron causes our mines to swell with raw ore," Honest had lectured, "Which is forged into plows for the farmer, who is able to fatten his cow for the butcher's axe, who is able to feed the tanner curing leather, which provides much-needed boots for our soldiers, who are needed to guard our mines. Take away that Judgment carelessly, and order collapses, and that is the end to your pretty little Empire." The words were so dark and ominous, yet spoken in such a laid-back manner that even he had been taken aback. Still, he took that lesson to heart.

Tatsumi chuckled, brushing aside his remembrance of yesterday's events. "Yeah, that was basically what happened. He told me there were rules about how I could dispense judgments and such, and that I shouldn't be displaying my power so blatantly."

"It sounds really amazing, this judgment thing," Sayo said.

"Hey, forget that! What's more amazing is the fact that Tatsumi's a real freaking Emperor!" Ieyasu interjected. He flailed his arms. "Like seriously, I woke up one day to that? This is so freaking wild!"

Tatsumi couldn't help but smile goofily. Truth be told, in front of his two friends he felt more like a kid wearing a set of clothes too big for him, like a costume for a play. And any moment he expected the punch-line to come in, to take it all away, and to thank him for playing the part of the fool.

Then he blinked, and the thoughts had disappeared, leaving him with the solid weight of the Teigu on his shoulders. Though he was speaking to his friends, he felt as if they were speaking from behind a very thin and unnoticeable veil, through which their words seemed like they came from a different world entirely. In the span of several months, Tatsumi felt like he was standing on a house made of playing cards.

"Tatsumi? Oiii, you there?" Sayo was saying.

"…Yeah, I was just thinking," he said, while smiling in apology. "While also looking at that at the same time." He pointed up at the painting near them. The trio were currently in the hall of the Emperors, though the two didn't know it was called that. Portraits of every previous Emperor (except his immediate predecessor, who was only Emperor for less than a day) were lined up on the walls.

The painting he indicated showed a fierce-looking man wearing a great black over-cloak over his shoulders, as well as a familiar-looking ring with a black gem on his clenched fists. Behind him was the hint of the sun rising from behind a hill, as well as a castle perched at the top, blocking the sun's rays partially.

"Uhuh. That guy? You know, now that I think of it, he kind of looks like you, man." said Ieyasu.

"Nah."

"No, I'm serious. Swap that hair for yours, lose that awful frown, and hunch over his shoulders and he's basically you, Tatsumi."

"The resemblance is uncanny," said Sayo, giggling.

"Come on, you too, Sayo?" Tatsumi whined.

"Who is he?" Ieyasu said.

"No one else than the founder of the Empire himself."

"The Big Guy himself, huh? Well, like Sayo said, this really shows you two are related," Ieyasu remarked. He grinned. "Imagine that: my friend the Emperor."

Tatsumi scratched his hair, while sharing his friend's infectious grins. Despite the many gloomy thoughts occupying the back of his mind, his spirits were nevertheless brightened by the appearance of his best friends. The trio had been closer than comrades since childhood, having hunted and trained together many times back at the home village. Their presences alone were a soothing balm that cheered his lonely heart, particularly here in the very heart of the vast Empire he was supposed to rule.

Actually, Tatsumi was already feeling a bit happier ever since the villagers he'd requested Honest to bring to the capital had arrived. They had gone through a long journey, having come by road instead of on one of the flying boats that had brought Tatsumi here. He had sent one of the Imperial troopships—mid-sized, unarmed flying boats meant for ferrying a small cabal of troops across the lands—but he'd been told by his friends that the villagers had adamantly refused to ride on such a contraption, which explained why the troopship came back to the capital empty-handed.

Still, they had made it here, which was all that mattered. They had been received with all the pomp that personal guests of the Emperor were accorded. Prime Minister Honest had then given them an empty mansion where they all lived, pampered by maids and servants all day long.

"By the way, I do have something that I think you guys can help with," Tatsumi said. "They're wanting me to decide my regnal name: it's like the name I use other than Tatsumi when I call myself the Emperor."

"What's wrong with Emperor Tatsumi?" Sayo asked.

Tatsumi blushed. "I… dunno, doesn't that sound kind of weird?"

His two friends stared quizzically at him. "It's your name, man," Ieyasu said.

"But it's not cool!" Tatsumi exclaimed.

"But it is!" Sayo said with such feeling that Tatsumi couldn't help but look away from her. For some time now he'd been having some strange feelings whenever he thought about Sayo, which made it awkward whenever they spoke this close. Tatsumi shook his head to clear his mind of that, and instead pointed to one of the portraits.

"Like, take that guy. He's 'Emperor Blacksun'. Isn't that pretty cool? Oh, and there's 'Emperor Tempest', 'Emperor Farsight', and there's 'Emperor Ironbitter'. I don't know what an Ironbitter is, but it's got something metal in its name so it's pretty cool."

While Ieyasu looked contemplative, Sayo shrugged and shook her head. "And I think Tatsumi's as good a name as any."

Tatsumi coughed. "R-really?"

"No, no, no, wait a second, Sayo, Tatsumi's got a point," Ieyasu said. "We can't have history record our friend as 'Emperor Tatsumi' right next to 'Emperor Tempest'. Tatsumi, you've got to find yourself a niche, man. What about 'Hunter', because of your roots?"

Sayo rolled her eyes.

Afterwards, the trio left that hall with Tatsumi still not able to find a good name for himself. He led his friends over to the Imperial Great-Forge, which they travelled to through the use of Tatsumi's personal flying boat. It was small, and had a long lever to guide its directions, exactly as a rowboat should be, except that it floated through the air.

The Great-Forge was the name for the capital city's bustling industrial district, which created the many weapons and armaments demanded of the Imperial army. From its depths were born the Empire's many ironclad flying ships, its smaller escort boats and the various sleek speed-boats that made up the Imperial fleet. Hand weapons, armor pieces, cannon shot and powder, artillery parts and more were churned out daily in the hundreds, supporting the enormous war-machine.

The Forge itself was fed by underground veins that, thousands of years after its discovery, was still rich in the precious ore that fueled its many creations. Tatsumi knew that a Judgment cast on the Capital itself was the cause, which somehow magically replenished itself after a set amount of time. It was something that Tatsumi couldn't remove nor replicate, as it was established by the First Emperor himself. The many tunnels left over from previous excavations that were close to the surface had been repurposed into the grand underground area called the Undercity, which Tatsumi had previously discovered was hidden from the Throne's eyes.

He led his friends to one particular building in the Great-Forge—the home of Martin the Skeleton, Master Swordsmith.

"Why's he called the Skeleton?" Ieyasu asked. "Is he so thin or something?"

"You'll see," Tatsumi replied, with a smile, leading his friends right into the heart of the building. A blast of heat came and warmed them as they went further, signaling the active forge which was Martin's workplace. When they arrived, the man himself was nowhere to be seen. A great pool of molten steel lay at the center, fed continuously by a pipe that was connected to the great smelting foundries outside.

As his friends looked around in confusion, a shape emerged from the depths of the molten pool. His two friends started, then cried in surprise as the shape rose to reveal itself as a fiery skeleton, tall and frightening, its form dripping in hot, melted minerals.

Upon seeing the group, the skeleton waved a hand, and Tatsumi nodded in reply.

"Wh-what is that? That thing? That skeleton, it's walking!" Sayo said, trembling. Ieyasu was nodding along, also clearly unnerved.

"That," Tatsumi began smugly. "Is Martin. He's the 'Skeleton'. He's also the best darn smith in the world." It felt good surprising his friends, as he'd once been during his first meeting with Martin. He'd also been unnerved by the walking skeleton on his first time here.

Martin was said to be the oldest living human in the Empire, and perhaps the entire continent. He had been born during the Great Rebellion that preceded the Empire's founding, and had been apprenticed to the legendary blacksmith Griswold who had helped forge the Thousand Teigu. He had lived for so long because of the Teigu he had obtained, which granted him a form of immortality: any form of heat would no longer harm him, be it the inferno within the heart of the volcano or the flame of a candle. The downside, as of any Teigu, was that the immunity to heat was only conferred to his bones.

He'd heard it said that the Teigu was punishment by Griswold for some unforgiveable slight. Martin had been cast into Griswold's own forge, where his body melted and burned in agony until only his present form remained. Thereafter he would only be able to see and touch the world, the better to judge and create the perfect weapons. Whichever the case, Martin had remained in this place ever since, taking over the rank of Master Swordsmith from Griswold up to the present day.

Owing to the loss of virtually all flesh, the man communicated through writing or by miming with his great wrist-bones. As the only senses left to him were touch and sight, he could not even hear Tatsumi, and had to read what Tatsumi requested before he nodded in acquiescence. Martin pointed to a far door, through which Tatsumi and the others went into.

Inside was a large chamber composed of many shelves filled with weapons of all shapes and sizes. Everything in here had been made by the Swordsmith, and thus was his personal armory of sorts. Sayo and Ieyasu reacted in much the same way as he did when he'd first seen this room: in silent awe.

"Come on, let's get something for you."

"A what?" Ieyasu said.

"A weapon," Tatsumi said. "I got myself a sword from here." It was a strangely designed sword, said to have been modelled after the blades wielded by warriors from the mysterious Eastern nation—which was coincidentally the same place where his mother supposedly was from. He'd felt an odd kinship towards the blade, which had made him pick it in the end. "Since I technically 'own' all these, I'm free to give you some of the weapons on display here."

"What?" Sayo said, spluttering.

"Man, are you serious?" Ieyasu asked. "That's… that's kind of a big thing."

"Psh, don't get all meek and humble on my account," Tatsumi said. "Ieyasu, there's a whole bunch of axes over there. And Sayo, I'm sorry but apparently, we don't make bows or arrows in the capital, but I'll take you to the armory later on. Though you are free to take some of the daggers here."

Watching his friends gush over the weapons on display, aided silently by the looming black skeleton using a piece of paper to communicate, made Tatsumi smile. He caught himself looking far too much at Sayo, too, which honestly made him a bit apprehensive. He couldn't possibly… towards Sayo… right?

Buruskai had been an arid and harsh region in the Continent, home to four small towns which provided the Empire with a modest tribute of silver mined from their many hills. Seasonal rain or snow was almost nonexistent save for a freak incident here and there, which was usually caused by an errant Teigu user more than anything.

It was so remote and out of the way that the Revolutionary Army had chosen it as one of its main outposts, using the many abandoned mines that were honeycombed among the region's many hills.

In return for not making a fuss, the Army would take care of the banditry problem for the four main towns, as well as provide food whenever the caravans from the other regions ran late (which was usually most of the time nowadays).

And yet now Buruskai, which had never once experienced a drop of rain, now languished under a severe typhoon the likes of which even Najenda had never seen. Yet she knew it was a danger, as the strong winds battered the hills and the rain poured down in such great volumes that their underground bases had become flooded quickly. And it was all because of the whims of this new Emperor, goaded most likely by the insatiably corrupt Prime Minister.

Fortunately, Najenda and several of the Army's leaders had anticipated the incoming storm by a few minutes, as they had recognized the tell-tale sign of the Judgment coming. Najenda had experienced a Judgment once when she was a child, thus she recognized the terrifying booming sound coming from the horizon like a hundred giants tramping over the land. Then, the bleak, black thunderclouds had formed. By then the Army had mobilized, taking only what they could carry as the rain started forming great, flowing streams all along the foothills.

There then came the problem of their hosts, the people living in the four towns. It had already turned into a disaster of sorts, as they had no reasonable way to handle a sudden freak appearance of the heavy downpour of rain, which they had never once experienced in their lives. One town in particular had it worse, as unlike the other three that were situated on the hilltops, it had instead been founded in a valley surrounded by hills. All the water flooded the place within an hour, forcing a desperate displacement of literal crowds of people scrambling up the muddy hill-side.

The others did not fare that much better, after a while. Softened by the rain, entire sections of the hilltops collapsed in a great mudslide, taking many parts of the town (and its people) with it. The water was also steadily building up from the base of the hills. Buruskai's water system relied on a nearby river from which they drained enough to fulfill their needs. Now the river had swelled, causing a backflow, which also slowly built up the water in the hills. In a few hours, the whole place would be underwater.

The stupendous thing was the fact that the Judgment of Typhoon had only been cast on the region of Buruskai. Beyond its borders, any sort of water overflowing from it would mysteriously evaporate. The section of the river flowing immediately downstream and upstream from the Buruskai section would not immediately cause a flash flood that would certainly ruin the port town of Jashino at the river's mouth—no, the water would be inexplicably calm and level right outside the invisible barrier separating Buruskai from its immediate neighbor. Buruskai's Judgment was for Buruskai alone.

After the Army had managed to evacuate its personnel and equipment, a debate soon arose among its leaders about how to proceed. The Revolutionary Army was hardly a united front, with its members having vastly diverse origins and reasons for bringing down the Empire. The only thing they shared was the will to bring the Empire down—how it was achieved in a day to day basis was largely enforced by the commanders and leaders who were respected enough to be obeyed by the rest.

Nothing showed this disparate nature more than when the leaders disagreed with one another. For a time, they discussed their need to haul their battered army out of Buruskai and hopefully link up with another separate unit before the Empire came. Then Najenda proposed that they use their equipment to help the townspeople evacuate the sector.

"We cannot use our precious resources so negligently!" the other leaders protested. The argument developed over two sides, with Najenda leading the other block.

"How can we consider ourselves the Revolutionary Army when we do not even extend our concern to the common citizen?" she argued. "If we turn a blind eye to their plight, we are no better than Honest or his lackeys."

"But it shall become much more difficult for us to carry on this fight with the frivolous use of our resources," argued the other side. "You know it to be true." They had a point: it was difficult to admit, but Honest's network of spies dug deep into the Empire. Seeking aid from sympathetic people would inevitably lead to their executions or assassinations—whichever Honest's people preferred as way of punishment for aiding the Revolutionary Army. Any help they were able to wheedle without alerting Honest's network was a small victory in itself, be it a week's supply of food or flying boats surreptitiously nicked from a city's armory. Usually, these were simple cases of things falling unnoticed through the cracks in the Empire's bloated bureaucracy.

"Leave these people to their fates and we prove Honest's words true: that the Revolutionary Army is composed of nothing more than opportunists whose only desire is to topple his tyranny with their own. If you cannot show to these even the simplest compassion because it isn't 'practical', then it is as if you see everything through that greedy bastard's eyes—a great board-game, with pawns all around," Najenda shot back, slamming her prosthetic against a nearby stone.

Thus, after much grumbling, the way forward was made unanimous. No one wanted to be compared to that scum Honest. The citizens of Buruskai were to be saved.

The main components of their plan involved the usage of their primary modes of transportation: the twenty-odd scout boats which Night Raid had managed to capture a few months back from an Imperial convoy. They were smaller, sleeker versions of the standard Imperial flying boats, which were shaped like flying beans. The scout boats were intended as escorts for the larger ironsides, and were shaped like bats flying upside-down.

The boats flew all around, gathering the drenched, shivering townspeople from their hilltop refuge and taking them to the new camp just beyond the border, which yet featured the arid landscape they had all been used to. There, they were all directed to great bonfires which had been hastily erected, where they could be warmed up and their clothes dried. Many of these people grumbled just as much as those who had refused to help them out. It seemed that they had been adamant in bringing their belongings with them onto the scout boats. But the pilots had been given strict orders not to take on any more weight than was necessary, meaning entire scores of people were forced to leave their belongings behind.

Still, nearly every one of them were grateful for the rescue, as they had no way of knowing how the freakish situation would be resolved. When the last of the scout boats had returned, the hilltops had literally become small islands in a lake of rainwater. It was then doubtful whether that would even persist.

After the people had been settled down, their rescuers nodded amongst themselves, having already agreed to this next act beforehand. At a signal, the more accomplished orators among them stepped up, gathering small crowds of survivors to themselves. They began to offer the usual spiel they used for people who had just been recently rescued from Imperial injustice. Blame was placed primarily on the guileless Emperor, who had sent that Judgment upon their heads, displacing many innocent people from their homes just from a mad whim. Then, the wiles of Prime Minister Honest were evoked, pointing to him as the lead instigator for much of the chaos currently gripping the Empire.

They would then introduce themselves properly as the Revolutionary Army. No, they had not engineered the rescue to reach this situation. No, they were not here to force anything on them. No, they were not here to "recruit". They were here to inspire, to show to the unsuspecting people that they had allies, friends they could count on, people who had been driven to the brink just like them. They were well-delivered tracts, given dozens of times before. The people were to be given a choice, and nothing else.

This was not to be coercion, they emphasized. The plan for now as for the Army to escort them to the nearest town, no matter how many, or even if any, joined. They would not be punished if none of them wished to join.

(This was also being pragmatic. Leaving these people in the lurch, desperate for food and shelter, would only make bandits of their number. And there did not need to be any more, not with Great Bandit Honest at the Emperor's right hand.)

Predictably there was plenty of mumbling and whispering. Some even openly questioned their presence, as if they wanted to imply that they were the reason for the Judgment. Ultimately, only a few of their number stepped up to volunteer. As Najenda privately predicted, they were nearly all young men and women, people with little attachments to the town. Of course, there were some protests from parents or grandparents, but the volunteers were resolute. They either had ideals they wished to uphold so strongly, or wished to escape their former lives to become something else. Najenda had seen either case before, but she'd never really looked into how they fared after joining the Army. Would any of these number defect? Would they ultimately tire of being always on the run?

Najenda spared no more thoughts on the matter. The only thing she focused on more than ever was the sight of so many shivering people, ripped clean of their homes without mercy. And once more she resolved to continue the fight, no matter how bloody her hands would become in the end.

I have to get the team together soon, she thought grimly. One way or another, this rotten regime ends.

Although he had been exhorted not to pull any more sudden Judgments out of the Throne, Tatsumi still found it his duty to spend his time studying its many mysterious functions. The Prime Minister and the various heads of Ministry had obliged him by taking up much of the matters of state for themselves, most of which had given him a headache in studying. Court was also not in session for the moment, which would have required him to sit through a hundred people introducing themselves and begging for some boon or favor that he needed to look up on a long sheaf of paper. He had again left Honest to preside over the whole mess of petitioners lining up before Tatsumi like he was a roast pig on display—at least until he got a better grasp of the whole "Courting" thing.

About the only other thing he practiced studiously was the way of the sword, which he was currently learning under a blade master from the army. He had to augment his Teigu's limited ability with his own skill with a blade, or otherwise he would feel like a very useless Emperor. He had just completed a sparring session himself, and had then promised to meet Ieyasu and Sayo again in the guest mansion after spending some time in the Throne.

One aspect, for instance, had him stumped for the longest time. It was the issue of the Empire's finances, and of the drastic lack thereof, that had him concerned.

He knew that the value of gold in the treasury meant the amount of bullion in the Imperial Treasury that was strictly to be used for the Empire. It was meant for the general upkeep of infrastructure and the many individual Ministries, for the creation and stability of the many branches of the State, and also to finance the war-machine that was to be necessary for the continued prosperity of the Realm. It did not count his own personal wealth, nor of the wealth of his many subordinates—which were technically all the men and women working in the armies, the navies, and the various Ministries.

Things shouldn't even be this dire. To start, the amount of money flowing in was a staggering amount. Each of the sectors of the Empire that had not been taken over by the damned rebels, or had fallen way low on the prosperity level, was giving a monthly tribute of upward of a hundred thousand Imperial gold each. Combined, that went up to a couple million gold per month. The tribute was in actual Imperial gold and not any other currency: this was the tax levied from each sector in exchange for the Emperor's continued protection and upkeep.

The many cities and towns provided other goods besides which would add more to the total tribute, like countless herds of livestock or freshly mined ore. But the Throne did not consider that "wealth" but simply "resources" to be used separately. The collective produce the farmers generated, the meat from livestock and hunting and fishing, among other sources of food were automatically distributed by systems he had yet to grasp throughout the Empire without need of his input. This went for other resources, like ore or manpower, too. And so far, they weren't in need for anything. Certainly, the problem areas remained a problem for still being out of their reach, but as for the territories still under their control, it was clear to Tatsumi that everything was going according to some invisible plan which he wasn't able to see.

So if the tribute was this high, and additionally no gold was needed to substitute for the needs of this or that sector, why was there still no net change in the bullion amount in the Treasury? Where did all that tribute go?

That was the question he posited to Prime Minister Honest a few hours later, as he barged into a meeting between himself and a few other Ministry heads. Strangely enough, there were women here as well, dressed far too scantily than he was used to. He coughed out an apology and closed the door, his cheeks burning.

Then Honest opened the door, revealing that the women had disappeared. The man looked inquisitively at Tatsumi. "Is there something you needed, your Imperial Majesty?"

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. Were you guys busy?"

The man shrugged. "… We were. But never mind that, my lord. I am at your disposal."

Tatsumi rubbed his chin, then shrugged. The appearance of the women was just another mystery for later. "I've a question I came up with while examining the Throne."

"You were using it?" Honest asked, exasperated.

"Yes. I need to learn everything about it."

The man sighed. "Very well. As long as you remember not to cast any unnecessary Judgments, as before. What is your question, my lord?"

And then he laid out his observation of the State's finances, along with the questions that had arisen from his personal investigation. "…In short, with all the tribute we're getting, why are we still in dire straits?"

Honest huffed. Then he gestured for Tatsumi to follow him over to a window. He pointed outside. "Do you see that?"

It was the great floating battle ship that always loomed above the Capital City. For however much his room in the Palace looked down on the rest of the city from a great height, the great ship dwarfed even that, looming farther up in the air with stately grace. It had honestly been the first awe-inspiring thing he had seen from inside Esdeth's ship as he was flown here. He'd marveled at how such a thing could fly—as it was equally the size of a mountain. It cast its formidable shadow over much of the Capital city on most times of the day, and at night it was like a mysterious sky-born creature which blotted out the myriad stars. It was shaped like a gigantic, upside-down bathtub—of the type he'd seen here in the Palace—and was a constant feature in the sky. Tatsumi had only ever seen it move once, and that had been during his coronation week, when the first of his body doubles had been killed. Flanked by smaller floating ships, the enormous vessel had performed a quick lap around the Capital before returning to its former post.

"The floating Castle, the mobile Citadel, the flying Dreadnought—our very own Pandemonium-class flying ship, first and only of its class. Tell me, have you educated yourself as to its capabilities?"

"I—" he shook his head. "No, not really."

"Neither have I, in all honesty," said Honest, his moustache quivering in mirth. "But I only know of what General Budo boasts, whenever the issue of the ship's worth is raised during a gathering. That it could hold the entire Empire within it, and still fly. That it can snipe a Danger Beast with its mighty guns from hundreds of miles away. That if it were to point its bristling armament onto the Capital, it would only take a minute for everything to be turned to rubble. That it would require the ship's own guns to be pointed back at it to pierce its mighty iron bulk. Thus, on and on he goes with no end, but you get my point your Majesty. It is a formidable vessel, without equal, and for two hundred years since it was completed it has never yet faltered in its duty to protect the Capital."

"If it's so powerful, then how come it hasn't helped put down rebellions? The Revolutionary Army?"

"That certainly leads to the point I was going for, my lord. First, let me ask you, do you know how such flying ships are able to fly in the first place?" Yet again Tatsumi shook his head, to plead his ignorance. "Imperial ether. It is a substance that, when excited, can cause strange things to happen. The most pertinent effect, of course, is the ability to take a thing of that kind of size and weight—and lift it straight up into the air."

"Imperial ether?" Tatsumi repeated. "You mean the stuff they put inside batteries?" He knew that, even with his dubious background as a country bumpkin. His village was remote, but merchants did swing by from time to time, intrepid fellows who braved the Danger Beast-infested area surrounding Tatsumi's home in order to barter with the hunters who routinely slew such creatures for meat and hide. The batteries they sold were used to power beam-torches, the small apparati generally used as a cheaper alternative to burning wood for light. They were also used for children's toys.

"Indeed," Honest said. He waved to a servant, and ordered a cup of wine. "The ether is also used in our flying boats. Think, then, of the battery that would be needed to keep the Pandemonium-class lifted high for long periods of time."

Tatsumi glanced at the thing. "…A lot."

"Quite a whole lot, as it turns out. Every day, the battle ship consumes enough ether to fill fifty thousand batteries."

Tatsumi reeled back in shock. "Fifty thousand… but that's—" He did a quick calculation in his mind. When the merchants had come to trade it had not been for Imperial gold, as the village had bare scraps to give. No, for a single battery they had to give five to ten hides of a normal animal, or a Danger Beast body part. They could get five batteries for the pelt of a Danger Beast. As he could not ascertain the proper gold value of any of those, he had no choice but to utter lamely, "That's a lot!"

Honest, who'd drunk of his wine while Tatsumi had been calculating, raised a finger silently in approval. He sighed and smacked his lips contentedly after putting the cup aside. "Not even a princely, or a kingly amount. It is not even an amount that an Emperor's wealth could give. It takes the whole Empire, Your Imperial Grace. Gold to process the rare mineral that creates ether into what it is needed to be, gold to fit it into the proper shells that can contain its power, and gold to ensure it does not simply explode when used. Gold, gold, gold."

He stood in silence, glancing up at the great floating ship while Honest polished off the rest of his wine. "And is that why we're not getting any of our tribute?" he asked.

Honest made a choking sound and coughed over his wine. "W-well, yes, that is the reason, my lord. That, and of course the rebellions. Many can no longer—or refuse to—give their assigned tribute to the Throne." He cleared his throat.

Tatsumi sighed. "Well, would it not be prudent to put that ship down? Make it land? Wouldn't it serve us better that way?"

The Prime Minister chuckled, as if he'd made a good jest. "Honestly, my lord you are not the first to ask that question. However, I do not doubt that you will be the first to be answered with deference."

Tatsumi cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"That question has been raised time and again. For surely you must realize, my lord, that others have also questioned the value of the Pandemonium-class ship just floating there and taking up space. And then, lo! General Budo, of the Imperial Guard, answers firmly: that for as long as rebels exist to threaten the Capital, there can be no rest to vigilance."

"General Budo said that?" Tatsumi said. His thoughts wandered to the image of the man the name evoked. It was a tall and imposing man, calm and stoic, whose scowling face and sheer presence was as of a statue made to frighten. He had only exchanged a few words with the man, chiefly concerning the day-to-day assignments of the Imperial Guard who were to protect Tatsumi day in and day out. "I see."

"Frankly I do not have a head for military matters," Honest continued, "So I cannot offer my opinions on the matter. But if one of the Empire's greatest generals, tasked by your father to be the Protector of the Imperial Blood, says that it must float, then it shall. Unless you convince him otherwise."

"Hrm."

"I sympathize greatly, my lord," Honest said, sighing. "For five years now—that is almost as long as I have served the Throne as Prime Minister—I have been thus unable to create great works to glorify the Empire. Oh the wonders we could have built: cities from dust, roads everywhere, a flying transportation system..! But alas, much of the Empire must be turned towards the war against our wayward subjects. Your wayward subjects now that you are Emperor."

"It'll continue being there, until the rebels are gone." Tatsumi blinked and clapped his hands together. "Well, the answer seems rather obvious now. We should destroy the rebels once and for all."

Honest guffawed, but only for a few seconds. His laughter trailed off when he saw that Tatsumi looked quite serious. "Y-you are not jesting, my lord?" His expression smoothed over. "So you intend on taking the initiative? I… I don't know what to say, my lord."

He turned to regard Honest with a shrewd look. "Prime Minister, back in my village we always had a rule: that when a Danger Beast is on the loose so close to us, there can be no peace until all the able-bodied men and women of our village sally out and hunt the damned thing. We never delayed, we never bothered with anything less than the complete destruction of our enemy." Tatsumi smashed his clenched hands together.

He looked up at Honest, who was watching him carefully while stroking his bearded chin. His look was cunning, like the village elders whenever the merchants with the batteries came.

"… We have been at war for a long time now, that is a fact that no one can ignore. Your loyal generals have been at the forefront, fighting for exactly what you propose, my lord. May I ask, then, what exactly you mean?"

"A great assault, on every possible angle!" Tatsumi said excitedly. "We shall be a broom that sweeps throughout the land and cleanses the Empire of this wasteful taint. We shall isolate our enemies, then crush them piecemeal. And of course, I shall be there myself to lead an army personally!"

"You, my lord?"

Tatsumi's puffed up chest deflated when he realized exactly what he'd said. Though Tatsumi could pride himself on being able to keep up in a fight, he was aware he wasn't the sort of person to lead a group of people, like in an army. It was the same situation as with the Danger Beast hunts in his village: though he'd been offered the position as hunt leader several times, he much preferred to attack head on while leaving the general strategy for others.

He shrugged sheepishly. "Well, I'll be there as… support! I'll leave the command to the general in charge, of course." His eyes glistened as a thought came to him. "And… maybe I can even fight."

"You are the Emperor, Your Will is law," Honest said with a bow. "But do forgive my presumption in saying, my lord, that perhaps it is best if you stay within the Capital, where it is safest." The man chortled. "But if you do insist on going, then who am I to stop you? We shall just be sure to have a great retinue to defend you."

"I wanna speak to the generals myself," Tatsumi said, the fire of enthusiasm reflected in his eyes. "Where might they be?"

"Most are in the Capital, pursuing their affairs. But they shall be summoned to a meeting, if it is Your Will."

"Nice! Let's do that."

"Leone. Oi, Leone. Wake up!"

"Mrm! Wha-?" The buxom woman yawned and raised her head from the counter. She stretched languidly and looked around as the sounds of the bar came back sharply into focus.

There was a great big brawl currently happening in the bar. Drunken bargoers, patrons and louts, most in varying states of undress, crashed into each other in a chaotic melee that sent bodies flying into the four corners.

Leone blinked groggily, before looking at the person who woke her. "Lubbock? Hey, what took ya so long? Were you the one who started this fight?"

"As if," the man replied, ducking his head a few inches to dodge a flying tankard. "But I was really kind of distracted by this hot chick near one of the clubhouses we passed. She was making bedroom eyes at me!"

"And you went to her instead of picking me up?"

The man placed his hands together in apology. "I'm really sorry! Let me make it up to you. How about a drink?"

Leone glanced over, and saw the bartender morosely staring out over the melee. "…Yeah, sure, I can go a couple more rounds."

Lubbock frowned. "…No, that was a joke. I was making a joke. See, I know what Najenda said. No more drinking once we've got a job." Leone made a clucking noise. "And don't 'tch' me. We both know it's true."

The normally playful look on Leone's face faded. "You've got a point." She yawned again. "Come on, let's ditch this joint. Iz a little too rowdy now." Together the two secret assassins navigated the slightly treacherous maze of struggling, bleeding bodies and the various missiles thrown through the air, until they reached the door. Then they both heard a dull thunk, which made them turn and look.

A bottle had struck the poor bartender, leaving him sprawled on the counter, insensate. A hush fell momentarily over the whole bar, before the room exploded with activity as each drunk now jostled to take advantage of the opportunity to grab a free drink from the barrels now that the bartender was out. Chuckling to herself, Leone opened the door and went out into the cold night.

Despite feeling that she'd been bowled over by a stampeding bull, Leone felt fresh and sharp, like a well-honed edge. Her good spirits had not necessarily come from the liquor—that is to say, her spirits were already high and so she decided to drink at a bar to celebrate.

For how could she not exult? The time to strike at the Emperor was near.

She was glad for it because it had technically been Night Raid's goal from the start: to help further the Revolutionary Army's goals by identifying and then assassinating key Imperial targets efficiently and with minimal collateral damage. Their ultimate goal, aside from making sure the Army would be able to win over the opposing army or defeat it entirely, was in assassinating the root of all evil: the Prime Minister Honest. He was the acknowledged source of all the Empire's current woes, as his dreaded network of minions and lackeys were scattered throughout the land, infesting the nation like rats that gnawed continuously at the people's spirit.

Assassinating him, nor less getting to him, was Night Raid's last challenge, and one they would not even contemplate yet. The Prime Minister was smart, and kept his comings and goings secret. He was accorded the same protective detail as the Emperor, which negated an all-out attack. And it was rumored he had a Teigu himself, one with abilities they didn't know, which meant another layer of mystery that they had to uncover before even attempting the kill.

However, assassinating the Emperor was the next best thing, really. With the current Emperor, it looked to be a more attractive prospect. As the Imperial heirs had been decimated during the last succession war, this was a ripe time to eliminate the last heir to the Throne before a new child could be born. This current Emperor's death guaranteed chaos to come, but it was something the Revolutionary Army could exploit in order to found a new nation, all while systematically destroying Honest's network of evil.

The only thing stopping them from actually planning for the assassination was the fact that this was the Emperor, which meant the same, or maybe even better protections as the Prime Minister. The Imperial Guard, led by the indomitable General Budo, was a force not even Najenda would recommend in fighting even with their powers combined; and was guaranteed to always stick to the Emperor's side. And then there were potentially nasty traps Honest had devised around the unwitting Emperor as a precaution, just to make sure his insidious reign continued.

They had a ray of hope just a few months back, when rumors had come down the grapevine that the "last" Emperor, the child who would have been easily used as a puppet by Honest, had died in a freak accident. There was much celebration in the group, as this meant it was only a matter of time before Honest's machinations crashed down around him.

But then this new young Emperor had been introduced. And before any of them could cry foul and claim that Honest was now literally propping up a puppet, the Emperor had been demonstrated to have a grasp of the Throne, which meant he was genuine. That fitted him squarely into Night Raid's crosshairs. For there to be true reform and change he had to disappear, one way or another. And they were fully prepared to make that happen.

Still, the same difficulties remained as before. It was not like they would suddenly change their security arrangements for some unfathomable reason. It was clear for anyone to see from a thousand miles that the Pandemonium-class remained docked above the Capital, meaning Budo was still firmly entrenched in there.

Of course, that was the reality until just over a day ago. Najenda, their leader, had contacted them again, and had delivered to them their next assignment: the Emperor's assassination.

As they all asked their leader for details in wonder, all Leone could think was a surge of thrill, like she were about to finally see prey helpless before her. Perhaps it was just the Teigu's strange magics working with her, but she didn't care.

"I shan't share the details yet," Najenda had said over the communication device, "But there will be one person from the other team who shall assist you in this endeavor. She shall meet you at Leverk."

Leverk was the current town they were in. Only Leone, Lubbock and Sheele had entered the town to meet with their contact. The others were left to guard the precious Kanai's Cube in their wagon outside of town, where they could make a quick getaway if needed.

"Ack, my whole body feels wretched!" Leone presently moaned as she stretched her arms up as high as she was able. "Think I might need to head down to the baths for some refreshment. Think I'll go ask Sheele to join me. How about you, Lubbock? Wanna come with?"

The man shook his head. "Nah, I'll pass. I think I found a nice source back there for some info. I'll check back with you in a bit."

"…Fine. Work is work."

"Indeed."

As they rounded the corner, Leone sprung into action. She pinned Lubbock's closest wrist behind him, then slammed his body against the wall. Then, she threw him onto the ground, before pinning him against the floor.

"Ow, ow, ow! Leone, what the—"

"Yeah, nice try, stranger. It was odd enough with you having to get me from the bar. Everyone knows I don't need that, because I'll always find my way home, and that I'm almost never late. Then you act all meek when I practically offered you a free pass to the baths. So, what's the deal? Where's the real Lubbock, hm?"

The one who had the appearance of "Lubbock" blinked up and her in shock, before his features slackened. He smiled and shrugged. "Guess there's no getting past you, huh?"

Leone's face was less than amused. "You got one more chance to be truthful, or this claw runs straight through your spine. I assure you it'll be a slow, painful death."

"'Sun sets on dastard scheme'."

"That's what I thought," Leone said, in response to the pass-phrase needed to identify their contact. She slowly eased off "Lubbock", though her body remained tensed. "Well, out with it, did you do something to him?"

The Lubbock imposter hissed as he stood and dusted himself off. "He's perfectly fine—those two never left the inn where you're staying." He smiled sheepishly at her. "Do forgive me for the attempted deception—I just wanted to see how good the other team was in spotting fakes, and also testing my own ability to gather information and use them well."

Leone quirked a brow. "Did it work?"

"Well, look at me, did you think it worked?" the imposter said with a huff. "Anyway, here." As Leone watched, Lubbock's form seemed to melt away and become an auburn-haired girl wearing some strange ornaments on her head. She opened her hands, as if to say she had nothing else on her sleeve. "I'm Chelsea, from the other team. Nice to meet you, Leone."

"Huh. Well that's a neat looking Teigu. Now I know why the leader sent you."

"I guess," Chelsea said, without elaborating, while adjusting her dress. "Shall we get a move on?"

When they returned to the inn, the real Lubbock predictably went goggle-eyed when he saw Chelsea. "Wow! Talk about a really spicy situation! Now we've almost all girls in the squad! Me likey! If not for Bulat it'd be a completely tasty situation…"

Chelsea smiled as she pointed at the man, like he were an interesting specimen on display at a zoo. "He's a funny guy."

"And you somehow missed that aspect of his personality? You coulda fooled me better." Leone asked, with raised brow.

"Yeah, ordinarily I'd have waited a few more days, or at least a week to observe you all. I thought he was just this healthy guy, with a bit of a pervy side. I didn't know it went deeper than that. But the leader needs us soon, I guess, so…"

Lubbock looked from one to the other. "What're you babes talking about?"

Leone shook her head. "I'll tell you all about it later. Now that our contact's here, though, we should hustle."

Chelsea was introduced to the rest of Night Raid once they returned outside the town, and their wagon quickly began their overnight journey to the rendezvous location. Lubbock wasn't the only one to make the observation that they were nearly all women in the group now, though only he looked more than pleased with the prospect.

The wagon moved swiftly, thundering forward from the strength of the four horses attached to it. With the advent of Imperial ether, the need for horses grew scarce in the Empire's more prosperous regions. However, the supply of ether was heavily regulated, and there were few who could afford the battery-powered horseless wagons. The use of horses had dwindled—it had even outlawed in the Capital and other cities—but remained in use for those outside. It also meant that a casual observer, like for example the Emperor's roving eye, would not see anything strange about a horse-drawn wagon travelling in the depths of night.

Ordinarily, though, for purpose of expediency Night Raid would have access to a flying-type Danger Beast, or at least one of the floating boats the Army had stolen from the Empire. However, the risk of being discovered and marked by the Emperor or any of his sycophants was greater with such flashy means of travel. Frankly, it should be impossible for one Emperor to be able to see everything that happened under his domain, as he was only human. But it paid to be prudent and the least bit paranoid, as entire battles could hinge on one chance discovery.

When they reached their proper hideout, Lubbock was tasked with showing Chelsea around their base, to acclimate her to the various traps and other security mechanisms they had planted. Then they waited for the next day, when Najenda was expected to arrive with news of their plan.

The woman herself arrived by another wagon and was promptly ushered into their operations room where the rest of Night Raid awaited, freshened up and eager to listen to their leader's word.

"I see you're all ready," Najenda said, looking around with her one eye. "Good. I assume I need not stress the importance of this one mission of yours? This could very well change the course of history."

The others looked amongst themselves, before nodding to their leader in their own determined way. Nothing else needed to be said, and no second thoughts appeared. They had long been committed to this course.

"How does it work?" Leone said, speaking the question out loud for them all.

Najenda unfurled the rolls of paper she had brought, spread them all on the table, and then explained the plan.

When she concluded, the rest of them could only stare wide-eyed, their minds unable to fully comprehend what their leader had just said.

"N-no way," Lubbock said.

"Can it really be that simple?" Sheele voiced out nervously.

"I agree," came Akame's cold voice. Najenda locked gazes with her crimson pair of eyes. "This sounds too convenient. Did you not sense how much this smells like a trap?"

"Believe me, everyone at HQ also thinks that way," said Najenda. "We have found a way, however, to ensure his compliance." And she told them.

Akame still shook her head, while the others looked like they remained unconvinced. "Are we really just to take the word of a man like that on face value? He benefits from the system we all swore to destroy."

"I know that guy," Chelsea said suddenly. Everyone turned to look at her. "And about the only thing remarkable about him is how unremarkable he's been. He's not bad enough to warrant a target by Night Raid, but he's not that good to be recruited into the rebels. I always thought he'd just remain that way for a long time. What's your opinion on his finally joining, leader?"

"I personally cannot say that I can vouch for him," said Najenda. "During my previous service I had no chance to observe him. I trust him as far as I can throw him. However, I also do trust in the methods which have been proposed to restrain him, and keep him at arms' length. He shall not gain our secrets, at least until our final triumph, where Honest and his ilk have been ousted from this world entirely. If he has anything to gain from association with us, it will only be the bare minimum. And if he proves treacherous in the end, well…"

A short silence followed. "Well, if leader says it's all peachy, then I'm all good with that," Lubbock said loudly. He looked around at the rest. "She's never led us astray yet, after all!"

In that instant, a little of the tension in the room eased. Their faces still looked doubtful, but their determination from before returned. The only one who had yet to look convinced was Akame, but she did say nothing else as the briefing continued.

"Unfortunately, we have yet no set time for this operation to start. What we have is a bare-bones plan structured in such a way that I can put in the details when the time comes. Before then, we are expected to wait at the Tilandr bastion so that we can monitor the situation, while also gaining access to the fleet for instant transportation."

The Tilandr Bastion was the location of the Revolutionary Army's HQ, located deep in rebel territory. It was the former location of the first city to rebel against the previous Emperor's short-sighted policies, as well as the primary location from where the fires of revolution spread outward. Owing to the need to secure its location, it had been turned into a fortified bastion, nestled within a series of mountains that impeded travel by foot. Access was therefore limited to any invading armies, while the immense tunnel networks the Army had been building all this time would ensure a quick escape if things got dire. HQ's one and only fear was if the Pandemonium-class from the Capital unmoored itself to besiege them directly, but even that threat seemed like such a farfetched thing.

"Then what about our work?" Mine asked.

Najenda sighed before replying. "HQ understands the need for us to continue our primary objectives as Night Raid. But this opportunity is too big to delay for any reason. By the time you'd all have hitched a ride on an emergency floating boat, the window of opportunity may have passed. We therefore cannot squander that. But don't worry. We're only given a month of standby before we're scrapping this plan. Hopefully, we shan't be waiting long for that opportunity to come."

As promised, the next evening they were set to go to Tilandr via a scout boat. The day before had been spent dismantling their base as well as relocating Kanai's Cube. While the risk of discovery was high when using a flying ship, their destination was a place that was known to be in the hands of the Revolutionary Army already, so the Emperor somehow observing them wouldn't be that detrimental.

Though they could all fit into the boat, they did so by cramming into the cargo space towards the back, like meat in a crate. This initially delighted Lubbock, as about eighty-percent of his total body mass now made contact with warm female flesh. Unfortunately for the eager man, Leone and Mine assigned him next to Kanai's cube and Bulat, which kept him pinned and unable to even feel a hint of female heat.

"So this is Kanai's Cube, huh?" Chelsea wondered, reaching out a hand to touch the box.

"Wait, stop!" Lubbock cried, blocking her hand with his. Chelsea blinked, and looked around, as nearly everyone there had mimicked Lubbock's desperate cry. "It's really not a good idea," Lubbock said.

"Why not? I know how it works."

"That's… not really the point?" Lubbock replied. "I'm just saying that if you touch it, the Cube will automatically include you inside the bond, if there's a Teigu inside. And there is a Teigu currently inside."

"Ohhh…" Chelsea said. She seemed to think for a bit, before attempting to place her hands on the Cube once more. "Okay, then."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a sec!" Lubbock shouted, warding off her hands yet again. "Are you crazy? I just told you all that, and you still want to touch it?"

"I well understand what it means. I know the risk. My fate will be bound to yours, isn't that right?" Chelsea looked around at the others. "But please do remember I'm a member of Night Raid, just the same as you. I hope you can learn to trust me, but that goes two ways—I'm also putting my trust in you guys. And what better way than to share in the Cube's influence?"

"Well said," Najenda said from the front. "I believe it's now time for me to join as well."

"Leader?" everyone cried, with accompanying gasps and exclamations. Since they'd acquired Kanai's Cube Najenda had never once used it for herself. That was partly because she had no Teigu (as far as they knew), and partly because as a leader in the Revolutionary Army and respected strategist, it was vital and understandable that she not die unexpectedly from a botched Night Raid mission, no matter how unlikely that outcome might be.

"Why, Najenda?" They asked.

"It's about time, I think," she replied easily, with a lopsided grin. "I can't have you all shoulder the burden alone anymore."

And with that said, both Chelsea and Najenda placed their hands on the Teigu. Immediately, a bright, golden light burst out and engulfed them all. A familiar feeling of doom settled in their minds, a reminder of their intertwined fates. The death of one would be the death of all, unless they each disconnected themselves from the Teigu. It was quite telling that both the newcomer to their group and their leader joined the circle of fate, as it crafted an invisible bond between all of them that nothing would ever break.

"Hmmmm… Nothing feels different," Chelsea said, examining her own hand. "I always wondered why your team got to use the Cube, but…"

"I had my reasons," Najenda said. "If you've any complaints…"

"No, no, I don't have anything stupid like that," Chelsea replied with a smile, waving her hands.

"If you're sure…" Najenda's face disappeared from view as she went back to her seat. "That being said, though," she continued from the cockpit, "While that was a really heartwarming gesture, we won't be using the Cube for this mission."

Everyone looked surprised. "Why not?" Chelsea asked.

"Because this is an important mission, and we may have to sacrifice each other to get a chance at our target. And for that to happen, the Cube's bond will just be a liability. We need to manufacture as many opportunities for the kill as we can. That means we're going full 'classic'."

They all fell silent, but all agreed with their leader's logic. Of course, this also meant that Najenda treated the situation seriously enough that thoughts of their own mortality became all the more prominent.

After all, this might just be the mission where they die.

When the First Emperor ascended the Throne and concluded his Bargain, he also ended centuries of hereditary rulership, consolidating all the old kingdoms' lands into one Empire. No traces of the old nobility were left, not even their names—having been purged clean from history by some unknown hands.

The Emperor had the foresight to see he could not directly rule over such a vast piece of land directly. To that end, he divided up the Empire into regions according to the sectors designated from the Throne. To each region he assigned a governor, a Throne-appointed official whose time in office would vary. This was to thwart any attempts at inheritance, as the sole Imperial authority belonged to the Throne itself.

His first governors were his best and most loyal lieutenants, leaders of his armies whom he awarded with lavish ephemeral titles and honors. But they did not retain control over the victorious armies—instead, these were given over to new generals and leaders, who would comprise the newly reorganized Imperial Army. Fortunately, these men and women (who might have had unsightly ambitions despite their professed loyalty to the Emperor) all died one way or another before the Emperor did, allowing him to appoint new governors before his own death.

Each governor was expected to meet a quota of soldiers ready to join the official army every couple of years. They were forbidden from having armies of their own, to counter the fear of abusing their power for selfish ambitions. Aside from that, they were generally left to rule over their territories as they saw fit, only submitting to Imperial rule when the Emperor or his ministers wished it.

At the same time, the high commanders of the Army (and the nascent Naval equivalent) were encouraged to be elevated as supreme exemplars of Imperial Might, and were thus accorded many honors and privileges just short of actually granting them land, so as to again forestall the rise of an emergent feudal system. The most accomplished leaders were immortalized in the Hall of War, a grand shrine located in the capital. The best among them were granted the powerful Teigu, and had their feats forever etched into history. It was hoped they would be satisfied with such awards, even if they left nothing but a modest but richly funded estate for their progeny upon their deaths.

Many would readily admit, though, that being general was far from an easy job. If it was not the need to go to the front lines for any given moment due to a brewing rebellion, there was also the many wars the Empire needed to wage against all its neighbors. While the Empire was bountiful when it was allowed to be and could provide adequate food, shelter and protection for all its citizens, it yet needed to be defended from many threats, both from within and without. A general's life was one of vigilance, unless they succumb to the temptation and become rebels themselves.

The aforementioned system did not last long. Successive Emperors interpreted the First's laws in their own way: granting a general's title to a governor, and vice versa. Fortunately, there were secret measures that ensured that in the thousand years since the Bargain, no aspiring governor or general rebelled against the Throne after being granted favors that were not their due. What these measures were fell to conjecture, but most whispers pointed to the Imperial assassination squads formed by the Ministry of Rooks, the Imperial intelligence department.

When governors rebelled, it was usually at the head of a rabble army of volunteers from the cities they ruled. When generals rebelled, it was usually deprived of support from the governors or the lands they administrated, forcing them to steal and raid like an army of brigands before Imperial justice reached them.

This, of course, discounted the many years of conflict brought about by ambitious claimants to the Throne and other wars brought about by a mix of conspiring governors and generals forming a united front. These were a component of Imperial factionalism, which still retained a form of segregation between governors and generals—especially in the case of a successful intrigue which would make a grateful Emperor or minister grant boons to their supporters. Governors were granted more land and riches, and generals more status, and not the other way around, especially by the more canny Emperors.

The only exception in recent memory was the Revolutionary Army, and only because it was an offshoot of a rebel army that had been allowed to grow for a long time. At its core it was a governor who'd rebelled during the succession war and had, in the interim, attracted sub-commanders from disgruntled armies and the mayors of various cities to form its own nation-like hierarchy. It was only at the height of its power, which caused even the Empire to be cautious, that generals and governors began to defect to it, thus expanding its reach significantly.

The current Army and Navy followed the First's standards for the most part. Generals and Admirals were hand-picked from the roster of promising officers. There was also always a fixed amount of them, each assigned to their respective armies, with no one living idle without their own command. Those extras who didn't fit the needs of the Empire were usually discharged quietly and never heard from again.

Unfortunately, in the opinion of Budo, the oldest and longest-living of the Empire's generals, this current crop of generals were inferior to all that came before. It was a sad fact that nearly all of those he would consider peers had died in the succession war that the current Prime Minister Honest had been involved in. This led to a batch of uninspired and uninspiring generals who liked to linger in the Capital with their armies, adamantly refusing to head out into the field and engage the Revolutionary Army.

This was an absolute disgrace of the rank, in Budo's opinion, and the Empire may well have fallen already if not for a few things. First, there was the existence of the powerful, infamously terrifying "Ice Queen", who absolutely dominated the field against the Revolutionary Army. It was said that she had the capability to take on an army all by herself, just like Budo, and that she was the only reason that the Revolutionary Army had to rely on assassinations through Night Raid instead of openly fighting and besieging the Empire.

Second, there was the fact that for the moment the other nations had been subdued handily during the last campaign held by the previous Emperor, who had also been the one to appoint Budo as general. Although no territories had been taken or given, they had caused such havoc and raided so far into the other nations' lands that a number of people had been killed or taken as slaves, their lands burned, their cities despoiled—that it was estimated to take another generation before they regained the strength to attack again. But Budo thought if they even dared, the might of Esdeth would probably be enough to repel them again—he conceded that she was an unparalleled individual who would certainly be able to pull that off.

The third fact was that there was a new Emperor, who was, as Budo saw it, that sort of individual who generally led suicidal charges into the breach. In the form of an Emperor, Budo predicted it might lead to some interesting developments in the future. He'd initially assumed the new successor who'd been accepted by the Throne to be yet another one of Honest's lackeys. But looking into his background, he found it impossible for the Prime Minister to have influenced the boy so early. Meeting him personally had also solidified the view, as the young Emperor was guileless to the point of wearing his emotions entirely on his sleeve.

It turned out his predictions were slightly correct. Word came a day before of the Emperor's intention to hold a meeting with all the generals. Conveniently enough, there were plenty of them already in the Capital, so it didn't take long to gather them all. As usual, the call was sent to Esdeth, who was currently the only one in the field; and just as usual, she refused, citing an imminent battle with a tribe of hostile beastmen. Budo didn't know whether to be angry or relieved at the wayward general for that.

The meeting room was small, and was intentionally spartan and cramped in appearance, to highlight its use purely as a means to discuss war. Gatherings involving diplomacy, finances and other needs were to be held in other rooms if possible. However, owing to the needs of the current batch of generals, there were tables filled with food and ready to be served at the generals' request. Thus, to Budo's consternation this had more of a feeling of a tea party instead of a military meeting, which infuriated him, but he allowed it, for now. Any of these fools might have connection to Honest, who was arguably the most powerful man in the Empire at the moment.

"General Budo, you are punctual as always," said the first general to arrive after him. Budo nodded his greeting silently, and remained standing at the far end of the table. Isolated, just as he intended to be. The rest came in afterwards: in trickles, until they reached a certain number where they able to congregate into various little groups.

Despite being technical equals, these men and women still clung to a sort of "hierarchy", with Budo and Esdeth treated as outsiders at best, and inferior at the worst. Budo didn't deign to learn all that much about their little coteries, as it stank too much of the same court politics that plagued the rule of the Empire's various governors, where sycophants plotted fruitlessly for bare scraps of favor. It honestly sickened him to see it acted out among the generals, who were tasked with the Empire's protection. Unfortunately, he could no more order them around nor discipline them than he could throw off his shackles as head of the Imperial Guard, which kept him in the Capital indefinitely.

There was the expected divide between the generals and the "admirals"—the perceived arrogance of admirals just for being given command of a portion of the Imperial air fleets contrasted with the admirals feeling ostracized as a result and banding together. Then there were associations by their background: certain territories were deemed more rural and backwater by most, and those who came from there were therefore considered less educated or less cultured as a result. And then there were those whose loyalties were to certain influential Ministries or governors, and thus had been successfully plied with enough bribes to become their loyal allies when the time came—usually by lobbying for increased Army presence in certain territories, or by ensuring a portion of wealth intended for the Army be instead relocated to a city for "more efficiency".

Budo held nothing but supreme contempt for each and every one of them. He reserved a small portion of that for himself, however, for even suffering them like this for so long. In a way, he had become just as much of a problem general as all the rest.

When those who had been summoned had all arrived and had been well-oiled by various dishes and were already well into their second serving of wine, the door opened with much fanfare as a duo of royal guards entered, bearing long halberds. They each took a spot to flank the doors as Honest strolled through them, bearing his enormous bulk forward with pride. Yet the one who followed along behind him caused each of the assembled generals, including Budo, to stand at attention, placing their fists to their chest in the Imperial military salute.

"Hail, Emperor!"

The young Emperor strolled in, bright-eyed and eager, wearing a crisp military uniform and dark cape. For the first time, his manner of dress actually seemed to fit him, unlike his flowing Emperor dress that sometimes seemed to be too big for him to wear. As such he gave off the feeling of a young officer in training, which could be taken in two ways: that he was new blood eager to learn, or that he was supremely inexperienced for the job he was about to do.

Everyone looked to Honest to say something, as was expected, but the man made a beeline for the food trays while the Emperor confidently strode past the saluting generals to stand beside Budo at the head of the table. After nodding subtly at him, the Emperor clapped his hands.

"Good day to you all. I trust you are all ready for the meeting? Is there anyone of you who needs a little more time to eat?" Despite the young man's innocent-sounding tone when he asked that question, none of the generals present dared to say anything. In fact, their eyes constantly went back and forth between the gorging Honest and the Emperor, as if looking for some sort of guidance. They were all yet unsure on how to personally deal with the new power on the Throne, especially one who hadn't been much of a personality to them yet.

"Prime Minister, will you be joining us?" the Emperor asked.

"In a little while, Your Majesty. But please, do not wait on my account, gentlemen."

With that, everyone could read between the lines. The one who presumed the power behind the Throne endorsed whatever the Emperor was doing. And yet he did so in such a way that it still sounded like the new Emperor was relying on Honest as well.

With that, the various generals went into their apportioned seats accompanied by a chorus of mumbles and whispers. Only the Emperor remained standing, with an easy smile on his face, as he took out what looked to be some sort of branding rod and slapped its end against the Empire's map laid out on the table.

"My loyal generals, many things have come to my attention since I was accepted by the Throne as the new Emperor. It cannot be understated: the Empire is in dire straits. And I aim to fix that, no matter the cost. There are many things we have to do first, but the most important one must be addressed." He raised his rod, and again planted the tip of his rod on the red-shaded spots on the map, which indicated the Revolutionary Army territories. "This rebellion must be crushed, once and for all!"

Before the silence following the announcement could extend farther than two seconds, the Prime Minister raised his voice and clapped. "Hear, hear, to the Empire!"

At that, the other generals clapped and hooted as well, uttering oaths of "Death to the rebels!", "Good show!" and "Hail the Emperor!" Only Budo remained unmoving, having not clapped at all.

"Therefore, beginning right this moment I am authorizing a great campaign that will begin to clean out this rabble from our cities, so that the Empire may prosper."

As another round of clapping began, a voice called out amid the dim. "So what are our plans then, Emperor?" Everyone looked and saw General Abell, a slightly plump man, ask that question with a smiling face. Of all the sycophants here, Abell was one whom Budo knew to have endured a long three-month campaign against would-be deserters to the rebels, with mixed results. In the end, he had to call upon Esdeth for help, damaging his long-term credentials (though this was during the succession war, where such things were easily forgotten).

"If it is in terms of military planning, then I truthfully must defer to you, my good sirs. You all have the experience and training necessary to lead our Armies to victory." Budo almost snorted at that. "This meeting then is for us all to decide upon a concrete plan that shall begin tomorrow at the earliest, in order to root out this so-called 'Revolutionary Army' once and for all.

"General Budo," Budo blinked when the Emperor turned to address him. "Would it be possible to use the Pandemonium-class for this campaign?"

He frowned. "Absolutely not. The fuel cost needed for such an expense would be astronomical. Not to mention it would leave the Capital thoroughly exposed—"

"Got it, well, is there a possible alternative of using our flying ships to transport men and material?"

Budo blinked at the interruption, but was forced to close his mouth as the Emperor had immediately moved on as if nothing had happened. The rest of them, though, had seen the interruption, and now had various amounts of amusement on their faces, not the least of which was Honest's, who looked downright smug. He scowled—he was greatly unamused.

General Abell was the one who took up the answer, in the meantime. "I'm sure we can accommodate that, my lord. Before the day ends, we'll have arranged the proper transports and the armies to be assigned to this… Well, do you happen to have a general plan of action, my lord? A primary target for our efforts?"

"Ahhh… well, I don't really have anything in mind at the moment…" the Emperor said, scratching his head. "Which is why I'm asking you guys if you have any suggestions."

The generals passed glances among themselves. Yet again, before anyone could speak, General Abell spoke, "If I may suggest, we do have certain problematic areas we can target first…" And so he proceeded to outline a plan to conquer several certain cities in a particular area. Budo didn't know if the others realized, but the plan essentially called for the protection of his governor friend's territories, which were located close to the cities Abell wanted to liberate.

"… In doing so, we remove what we call the ugly 'hump' that inhibits our iron-producing territories. With the cities under our command once more, we shall have permanent parity over the Revolutionary Army, as it will be impossible for the rebels to maintain their supplies without a reliable source of the ores in these hills."

"That does sound like a good plan," the Emperor remarked. "Are there any objections or alternatives?"

Two other plans were outlined: one using the sea to bypass the great rebel fortress line and reach the Tilandr Bastion without having to advance through a whole lot of hostile territory. The other was to secure a mountain range that was breeding ground for brigands and Army sympathizers, which was also a suspected major route through which the rebels were thought to transport in much of its supplies.