Reaction of an Empire

Dark clouds roam above the city, and its cold and wet raindrops land on umbrellas and roofs.

Skygalleons floated above the city, brandishing the flag of the Empire, an Empire that scornfully looked to its Eastern neighbors, whose populace, just for existing, was a violation of the scriptures of the religion of Zarom.

From above, men and women in trench coats walk past a young newspaper boy, no more than 12 years old, shouting the sentence, "Hear ye, hear ye! The Dragon Monarch has risen! Come read about it in the paper!" he said aloud on this crowded sidewalk as automobiles zoomed by from just ahead.

Some would buy the paper, but others would outright ignore the young lad, these adults who have been working day in and day out from the factories in the industrial sector of this massive city, the capital of an empire.

"What did you say, boy?" Soldiers walk up to the boy; these were the military police, a job for the sake of getting people off the streets.

"The Dragon Monarch has awakened, sirs! You must read the paper!" He begged that the soldiers buy one and read it.

It said, 'Dragon Monarch Awakens! What will this symbol of ancient power do in the modern world? Read on page 3" The two soldiers grimaced once they learned of this information; they could only look at each other with scared expressions.

"Le-Let's just hope the Empire doesn't do anything, right?" He looked at his partner with the same expression.

His partner just stared at him, scared and unsure if this would change anything in the government.

____________

An old man sat in his office chair in anger and frustration. They didn't expect anything like this to happen so quickly!

"SHIT!" He yelled as he knocked over everything on his desk in frustration before knocking over the desk itself.

He stomped at the pens and files that fell over as he continued his tantrum.

But just as he was about to throw the chair outside of the window,

*Knock Knock*

Two knocks were heard; they came from the door leading into the wide office space of the old man.

"Come in!" He yelled.

"Good Afternoon Your Imperial Majesty, We have received some more dire news regarding the recent situation."

"Great, more headaches!" He says in frustration as he holds in more of his anger by massaging his temples.

"Yes, we are terribly sorry to report that the Empire cannot afford to send more mercenaries into the Great Forest."

"WHAT?!? WHY?"

"There have been major protests in the cities of Jarg, Pilog, Thurn, and Iwas due to our recent wars with the Kingdom of Pilamo. The people are tired of war, your Imperial Majesty; they refuse to work in our factories, maintain and harvest the crops, and refuse to fish." The man who reported all of this stopped for a moment.

"I am afraid to say that we are dealing with a workers strike nationwide." He continued.

The old man was of course furious at this; he who has ruled this vast and mighty nation ever since his father was ousted by him for his failures in gaining a victory over the Pilamoans

He rubbed his temples in frustration once more before opening his mouth to speak.

"What has been the response of the military police in those cities?" He asked in a frustrated tone.

"They are keeping the protesters at bay, but once shots are fired, these will spark riots. I implore you to reconsider the peace treaty they sent us; as long as they are willing to send us half their treasury, war reparations, and exclusive mining rights in the regions of Loi and Riyan, then that would do wonders for us." The old man smacks the table again; he's already dealt with the constant harassment of the Filoan Diplomats about ending this just war; he has already built and specialized the Empire's economy to feed his armies and fight, but it was slowly but surely crashing down now.

"We've already invested too much into that war; they are demi-humans, lesser humans! who defies our God and the teachings bestowed just by existing, they mustn't be allowed to exist!" This old man yelled out, pointing at the holy symbol hung on the wall, as he justified this war with the national religion and the scriptures.

The old man seemed to have calmed down for a bit as he rearranged his toppled chair and sat on it, then took a modest sip of his tea.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear you say such outlandish things to me. Leave my office, Minister Julian, or I will personally execute you here." The old man said with a dark-expression as the Minister cowardly retreated back to the brightly-lit corridor.

The Imperial Minister of Finance and Trade, a powerful position that oversees the Empire's spending, taxation, monetary policy, budgeting, and economic planning, was kicked out of the office of the Supreme Emperor, Caspian Aurelius IV of Veridora.

'By now we've invested so much into the offensive and the mercenaries in the Great Forest, it would be suicidal to invest more into it rather than accepting the conditional surrender the Pilamo Government sent us' The Minister thought to himself as he walked away.

"Haah, I wonder what will happen this time," he sighs as he continues walking away lazily.

"Ah, Minister Julian!" This time, a man in a suit called out to him once he exited the palace.

"Oh! Minister Parus, you need something?" The genuinely surprised middle-aged man known as Julian asked the elderly man in front of him.

"Well, we can't talk about it here; can we go to your office for now?" He whispers, "The man was soaked from the rain; he was not even carrying an umbrella under such weather; it was just his coat and fedora that were ineffectively shielding him from the rain.

"Of course. I was headed there anyway," Julian said as he let Parus take shelter from the rain under his umbrella and walked away.

Just a few steps of walking, and Parus opens his mouth.

"I've heard from the broadcast that the Dragon Monarch has awakened again. What will this mean for the Empire?" He asks with a scared expression as they continue their walk.

"I was just in a meeting with the Emperor; let's just say he is feeling under the weather for now." Julian jokingly says.

"Did the Emperor catch a cold?" In contrast to that, the old man began to worry.

"Nah, just a couple migraines, but in all seriousness though, we are unsure of how to proceed; our economic policy is fucked; industry is metaphorically on fire with the mass workers strike in three of our industrial city sectors across the vast Empire; and now we are suffering attrition in the war with Pilamo." He says with a down expression, he was sure that the Empire would experience a recession or a economic depression if these trends continued.

"So no, we are not fine." He added.

"But what about the transferred continent? Anything about them?" Shifting the topic to the still unknown and uninteresting continent, but the reports from the Elves kept popping up.

"I don't know; our only reliable source of information about them is from the Elves, and it keeps mentioning Germany. If we are going to war with a continental superpower, then we will inevitably lose the war." Julian spoke with a scared expression.

There were multiple factors, and they weren't sure how powerful of a nation Germany was. If they were a power comparable to the Ancient Ones, then that was a problem, but if they were relatively weak, just like the Federation, it wasn't going to be a problem.

It would only be a matter of time before the truth about the German operations in the Great Forest leaked out to the world, but there were still things the Elves didn't know about the operations. Even though they, the Germans, said they would collaborate extensively with the Meriavelan Army and the Demon Lords Forces, they kept going off on their own.

Such cohesion with another unfamiliar power's army is bound to cause problems in the future.

"We are quite literally in a bind, but luckily our major businesses and corporations are trying to mitigate the workers strike by offering more incentives." Julian optimistically says, trying to spin this already depressing topic around.

"Won't be enough though; you know how stubborn we, Veradoran Humans, are right?" But just like a dry slap of truth in this cruel world that Julian and Palmus lived in, the old man says nonchalantly. it was the slap of truth in that grain of optimism the middle-aged minister held onto that was forcibly destroyed in front of his own eyes.

"Y-Yeah, but I and many of my staff in the ministry hold onto that hope of a miracle coming to save us." Trying to keep his composure he could only pray to their God for such a miracle to come and bless them.

____________

It would take an hour for them to finally arrive at the Imperial Ministry of Finance, where they continued their discussions about the war situation and its effect on the workers strike.

"We're here now," Julian said as he reached his hand out to grab the golden door handle. Guards posted outside with a fierce expression in their fine gray uniforms and black helmets held in their black gloved hands bolt-action rifles with a personal sabre by their sides in case of emergencies.

"Good afternoon, Imperial Minister Julian, Imperial Minister Palmus." The guards were greeted with a nod from Julian in exchange.

Once they entered the ministry building, Julian left his umbrella on the drying stand and his coat on the coat rack.

"It's been a while since I've been in this ancient building, huh?" Palmus smiles as he takes in the old smell of the building, full of history. This was one of the few historical buildings the Imperial Government left alone in the great fires of Vol, a tragedy that took the lives of 500,000 humans and 100,000 buildings that were unprepared for that great fire.

"You still reminiscing, old man?" Julian smirks as he asks the old man.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just one of the great treasures of being a not-so-youthful man unlike yourself." Scratching his old and balding head in embarrassment, he was just like a grandfather you can have a chat with for hours without rest; it was very pleasant for Julian to be in his company.

They climbed the spiral staircase that led towards a corridor with other rooms side by side; the one at the end of the corridor was Julian's office.

Julian opens the door and lets his guest in; right after that, he starts preparing some tea at the instant-tea maker right beside the door decorated with a picture of a little girl smiling.

"Oh yeah, how're the grandchildren, by the way? I've heard about Luta; my condolences for the tragic loss." Julian asks as he hands the old man a hot cup of Vitalitea, a type of herbal tea mixed with Vitalitas, a spell that increases energy production, enhances the organic healing properties of mana, improves blood circulation, and improves the respiratory system. It's a spell that is taught in all schools within the Empire and the World.

"Thank you; the family is still devastated over the loss of our youngest and brightest in the family. How about you?" Palmus sipped on his Vitalitea as he watched Julian's reaction.

"Hmm? What about me?" He asks in return with a confused expression as he finally sits down on the table and rearranges some of the messy papers around his table.

"Are you married yet?" Instantly, the tea he was drinking flew into his eye as he snorted at the question in surprise.

Julian coughs for a bit before looking at the mess he's made and drying it off with an incendio spell.

"Nope, I'm still a bachelor." His flushed expression made him heat up for a bit as he looked away from the piercing gaze of the old man seated in front of him.

"Uwah, that isn't good, you know. Tell you what you can have Prisan, she is ladylike, and she is an exc-"

"I am not marrying your daughter, Palmus, and what is it that you want to talk about in the first place? If this isn't business-related, can we please talk at another time?" Julian, with a now calm expression, takes charge of the conversation. He was wasting so much time with this conversation that not only the desk but the papers he spilt his tea on were starting to dry a bit, but the contents of the paper were now unreadable due to the tea being spilt on the ink.

It was now a wobbly and gross mess as he dries it with a heated wind; just like a blow-dryer, he casts incendio (fire) and ventus (air) softly to not extinguish the flame and to not accidentally turn it into a flamethrower.

Just the perfect blend, like his Vitalitea.

"Apologies, and well, it is business-related; it's about the New Continent, actually," Palmus says. Julian looks at the old man with shock as he drops everything and sits down on the chair immediately, just leaving the papers on the line with clips near the window.

"This is still unconfirmed, and we are trying to verify their identities, but they went to this continent in a submersible, a technology we have but are still failing to make work." This was already news to Julian, who was more and more intrigued by what the old man was saying.

"The crew of the submersible claims to be part of the United Kingdom, or the UK for short; they are a nation that was recently conquered by the Germans a few months ago, and now they are seeking refuge." Shocked by the revelation, he leans back for a bit. So these were people who were conquered by the Germans; if they can get information from them, especially the juicy parts of that, then they could probably have a leg up against the Germans and their walking abominations.

"Do you have names?" The middle-aged minister asks as he leans forward with a pen and paper, ready to note them down.

"Yeah, wait a second." Pulling out a notepad, he reads aloud the names.

"The captain's name is Captain John Linton, and there are 60 crewmen, but here's the interesting part." The old man coughs before continuing.

"We have a report saying that the submersible is carrying members of their royal family; they are Princesses Elizabeth Alexandra Mary Windsor and Margaret Rose Windsor." Julian could only be more and more excited by this information. If they could get these princesses on their side, that would provide leverage against the other ministers and would also make the crew of the submersible more in favor of him and Palmus.

"Where are they right now?"

"They are currently being housed in the Oli Naval Base, but I advise against visiting them; they seem to be a wreck right now, probably from the journey from the new continent to our empire." Something wasn't right, though; why hasn't this old man reported this to the Emperor yet? Maybe he was also thinking the same thing.

He has to be sure if he is an ally or an enemy in this.

"Why haven't you reported this to the Emperor?" He asks suspiciously.

"I was until I found you. Good thing I spoke with you before visiting his Imperial Majesty; he would be thrown into a frenzy by this sort of event." The old man smiles warmly as he puts the notepad back in his coat pocket.

"Well, okay, you got me there. Alright, what else do you need?" This wasn't going to be enough to find the old man's ulterior motive.

"Good thing you read me; the crew of the submersible is talking with my subordinates about the capabilities of Germany, but I haven't received anything yet because I had to go here immediately." Julian was still suspicious; he already has subordinates with the foreigners, so he already has more leverage than him.

"So... get to the point already." The middle-aged minister was getting a bit impatient now.

"We need the support of the Emperor; you seem to be the most level-headed; the other ministries would literally kill me to get this valuable information, but I am only the Minister of Foreign Affairs and Exterior; I need allies to get the Emperor to agree to stop the conquesting; until after we gain the technology the folks from the UK got, can I trust you on this?" Julian smirks as the old man says this; maybe he might have something under his thick sleeve, maybe not, but as long as he is allies with this old man, who was as brutal as they said in the stories, then this was not any ordinary old man.

"Count me in." Reaching his hand out in front of him, the old man stands up and shakes the hand in front of him. He had the same warm smile of an innocent elderly man; all this was just a façade for him, a mask he wears every day going to work.

Julian was both frightened and impressed by this veteran of the political world, cunning as always the stories stay true it would seem.

"Well I need to go now, talk to you later alright young Julian?" The old man got up his seat as he bids farewell to the middle-aged minister.

_________

The next day was another miserable day for the people of the Empire of Veridora.

It was as gray as a film from the 40s; nothing much was going on in the capital Vol as men and women went to work in the factories, mines, and other production facilities located in the industrial sector of the resource-rich capital.

There were more and more military police, though once the newspaper boy made an observation, from partners to full-on squads of patrolling soldiers holding the straps of their rifles, they walked on, not minding anyone in their path.

Sure, it felt safer now that the patrols increased, but the tension in the air wasn't going away; there was public disunity and low support for the war, even in the capital, where they are closest to the Emperor and his grand speeches full of jingoism.

From the left, the boy looked at the people who could afford the cars that zoomed past him as swiftly as a horse; he was jealous of them and their wealth to afford such things while he was barely making any to provide for his baby brother.

He continued to yell out at the crowd of newspapers he was selling, a measly job that paid little. A 12-year-old boy like him wasn't going to survive for much longer if this continued.

...

By the time he noticed it, the street lights had turned on. It was now the end of the day, and he hadn't sold a single one.

"Ah, the boss is going to kill me," he weakly says as his stomach grumbles. He cared little for the job, so he wasn't worried; as long as people are still out there, there are still jobs he could apply for.

A giant gust of wind came out of nowhere, and he was caught off guard when it finally hit him.

The newspapers he was just holding flew away, and now they were littering the orange-lit streets.

But just as he was about to grab the paper, another wind struck, and this time he grabbed a part of the paper and shielded it.

"Will this day just get any better?" A poster smacked him dead in the face as another wind struck him. He has already given up hope.

"Wait a second!" He read the poster word for word as fast as he could.

"This could be it!" He yelled in excitement as he laughed to himself while running off, leaving behind the newspapers he had made a mess of.

The boy lets go of the poster, which gently lands on the paved concrete sidewalk with its back laid on said sidewalk.

The contents of the poster were as follows: 'Join the new Aerial Mage Corp! Fight for the values and beliefs of the empire and strike against the devils to the east!'