Imperium

| Written by FoxofJudyFoster |
==== Author's Note ====
This is my own story. This is not a remake or a spin-off. This is my first pasta so I would appreciate any feedback. Thank you for reading this first part of the Imperium series!
==Part One: The Secluded Few==
=== Chapter I: The Guild ===
Jorge Maskov-- The first leader of the Guild, Jorge Maskov was...while being a pupil of Reg Halvor, Maskov was also an Outlander, a member of a race particularly scorned by the dwellers of the Inner Lands...Appointed by Halvor as Guildmaster in the New Reckoning year 499, Maskov and his lieutenant, Lennar Ponyets headed the Guild until N.R. 515...-- The Book of Luthan
"Welcome to the Guild," said Jorge Maskov proudly, shaking the hand of it's newest recruit, Han Dreker, with vigor.
"Thank you, sir," said Dreker, a bit nervously, "then, I-I'm in?"
"Yes, yes," nodded Maskov impatiently, "you were 'in' the Guild from day One. All that formality was just that - formality."
The "formality" had been the writing of Han's name in the Book of Luthan, the secret book of the Guild, which at this time only served as a record book for new and old members alike; as well as presenting Han Dreker with a Guild-made iron sword. The one was purely ceremonial, the other was a sign of what would be expected of the members of the Guild in future time.
"As you know, we are founded on the ideas of the great Reg Halvor," Jorge Maskov said importantly, "and to this day we remain his servants, in essence. He lives," continued the Guild-master, "in Uraki, in Arcadia. His teachings and ideas are controversial; and so, of course, on unprintable. There is a likelihood," concluded Maskov, "that he will be arrested for treason. And so, tried by the Emperor himself. But even then, we will continue to do his will."
"What could he say, or write," asked Han Dreker, "that is worthy of imprisonment?"
"He maintains that the Empireof Arcadia will fall, and with it all the other great kingdoms of the world, within two or three generations; and that afterwards, the world will be in chaos for many years, maybe centuries. The entire human race, in fact," Maskov said gravely, "may be destroyed in the wars to come. Of course, such an idea is very unpopular with the greatest monarch in the world."
Han Dreker was silent. He hadn't realized what joining the Guild would mean, which he had done at his cousin's recommendation. An association, mostly of students and scholars, sure - but a revolutionary group whose leader may at that moment be receiving a prison sentence (or worse) for his ideas - Dreker wondered for half a moment whether he oughtn't discreetly take his leave of this mysterious foundation.
Maskov said quickly, "I wouldn't leave if I were you. I wouldn't like to have to hunt you down, and kill you, but our secrets are our own, and we can't afford to have informers and false converts in our midst, thank you."
"Who said anything about quitting?" asked Dreker suddenly, "I just don't want to get burned to death, or worse, by the Empire."
"You won't," said Jorge Maskov, "I'll see to that. Our little project is likely to be transferred to some place less hostile, anyhow, maybe within the month." He sat down at his desk. "But," he held up his hand, "I do want you to do something for me."
"I'm ready, sir, if it's to prove my loyalty," said Han Dreker proudly, anxious to show off.
"No, no, it's nothing like that," Maskov shook his head, "our mission is simply the preservation of human knowledge and ideas, in the case of a massive catastrophe. The certainty of the Fall is anything but a certainty. Not only will we preserve humanity's knowledge," concluded Maskov, "we will preserve humanity itself. Times are uncertain, and will only become worse."
"Alright, then," Han Dreker nodded, "what's my assignment?"
"You are going to journey to Tahira," said Maskov with a smile, "to be present at the trial of Reg Halvor, in four day's time."
=== Chapter II: The TrialCategory:Dramapasta ===
Tahira-- The largest city in the world, Tahira boasted a population of some 20 000 inhabitants (according to a 501 census)...this certainly made it the single most populated area under 20 miles in the Empire (excepting the Alaherian Strip). Founded by Morred I in N.R. 427, Tahira was in the beginning a mere fortress in the midst of many such ones ruled by bloody factions, but it soon grew to conquer them all...In 501, Emperor Morak III could truthfully say that he was master of the Eastern world...--The Book of Luthan
I
Tahira loomed up in the distance when viewed from the hill on the east border of Hort-town. The stone walls, some fifty blocks high, loomed up around the even taller turrets and towers of the city. Built on a hill, the city's streets all went upward, and the Imperial palace, in the center of the great city, was taller by far than the buildings on the lower levels. As Han Dreker viewed it in awe, it struck him suddenly that the sun was setting. At nightfall the gates were shut, and whoever showed up, even a second before they were closed, would have to spend the night outside. He spurred his horse forward, galloping past slow-driving farmers and merchants.
The guards at the gate didn't hardly notice as Han rode in with the crowd. A glance or two, that was all. So far, so good. But better not speak too soon, he thought. The cobblestone streets, the smooth stone sidewalks, and the brick buildings, all these things were new to Han Dreker. And intimidating. He strode through the streets, looking for an empty inn...
II
Morak looked at his councilors contemptuously. Really unnecessary, he thought, but there it was; the people had to have some false sense of liberty, and if it had to manifest itself in the election of councilors, as long as it didn't really affect Morak, then so be it. The councilors made no decision that he, the Emperor, couldn't override, and so all was well.
"We've brought him, sir," said the Head Guard, "shall we bring him in?"
"Yes, yes," said Morak impatiently, waving his hand, "bring him in."
With an escort of two Imperial Service men, Reg Halvor appeared before the Emperor.
Reg Halvor was maybe fifty, although he looked far older. His hair was white, with small traces of grey still remaining. He was tall, however, and looked as intelligent as his writing suggested him to be.
"Welcome," said the Emperor scornfully, "now we have precisely fifteen minutes in which to decide your fate. You had best sit down."
He did so, sitting straight and tall. The officers remained standing.
"Now, I understand," began Morak, "that you have been rousing the people and inciting rebellion. You have expressed your opinion that the Empire - the Glorious Empire of Morred, my great-great-great granduncle, is essentially dead, and will be destroyed by forces outside of my control, or of my officer's. Not only that, but rumors of a secret Society, founded by you - if not in person, at least in spirit - which are now spreading your heresy far and wide over the provinces. What do you say to this?"
Reg Halvor listened calmly, not attempting to interrupt; and when the Emperor had finished he said simply:
"The things I have said are true; if your little kingdom doesn't fall in a year, or a generation, it will fall, out of sheer necessity, someday. The purpose of my Guild is to preserve the good things which have come out of this empire, to deliver them into the next, if such a need should arise. And the Guild is far, far larger than you believe."
The councilors sneered, and looked toward the Emperor expectantly. Morak said slowly
"And what, may I ask, came out of this Empire that wasn't good?"
"Do you call war, and conquest, and slaughter good?" asked Reg Halvor, calmly, "or the killing of your rivals, and their families? The cruel conditions of the mining towns of Harad? Or the treatment of the poor farmers in those field outside your gates?"
"I give you two options," said Morak angrily, "have your 'Guild' depart from this land within a week - no, make it three days," he said, looking over at the councilors, "or you will be killed in the square as a public amusement. Choose quickly, or I will choose for you."
Reg Halvor said nothing for a minute; then suddenly he spoke
"Where will they go?" he asked.
"What do I care?" the Emperor retorted, "send them off, to some deserted island--" He stopped. He knew just the place.
"How about Eskyr?" asked Morak with a smile, "it's uninhabited, and sufficiently far from my domain as not to cause a disturbance. Yes..."
"Your Grace, perhaps--" began one of the Councilors.
"Silence," said the Emperor, "you'll go to Eskyr," he continued, looking at Halvor, "and you will stay there. I won't have you rebels to worry about, and you can satisfy your little fancy of building a 'great society' or whatever your end is. That is all. Leave me." Morak rose and departed, followed by the Guards escorting Reg Halvor out of the room. He was placed in his old cell, given paper and quill, and told to write a letter, telling the Guild of it's transition to a little island no more than three miles wide, and as many long, which must be made in an almost impossible time...
III
Han Dreker heard the news that Reg Halvor's trial was cancelled - due to a private agreement made between him and the Emperor - from one of the Imperial Social Workers, who was telling the story loudly to some of his friends at a particularly shabby inn. Dreker listened in closely, unperceived by the worker or his companions. He rose, stepped past them, and went out into the dark street.
No need, then, to be in Tahira at all! A waste of time, thought Han Dreker. He may as well go back to the Guild, and deliver the news. But no - he had a feeling that something new would come up soon... he hardly knew what. He didn't know of the terms of the agreement or of Halvor's letter. He was dissatisfied with what scanty information he had. No, he had best stay at this city until he had better information.
With a nod, he stepped back inside. The inn was emptier now, with only a few night prowlers sitting in corners, looking dark and brooding. He walked by them and went to bed. Slowly he fell to sleep.
The next morning Han awoke to an awful noise coming from out in the street. He yawned and got up quickly, determined to discover the cause of the ruckus.
IV
It was market day. Farmers from out in the fields had come to the city, to sell and trade their goods. Herdsmen and servant women led cows and sheep by leads through the already crowded streets; butchers cried out loudly, hoping to sell a steak or two just to scrape enough emeralds together for some decent food, and everywhere was noise and smell and a crowd.
Han made his way up toward the government buildings. He wanted news of Halvor, and staying among the dirty streets of the market wouldn't help him. He brushed shoulders with the rank and file of ordinary drudges that were called social workers, and even spotted some Imperial Officers, the higher individuals whose task it was to carry out secret duties and highly important matters. He looked for someone who might know the way to the prison...
"Can I help you?" asked a stranger suddenly, "you look lost."
"Where are your prisoners kept?" Han asked quickly.
The stranger made a face. "In the upper level; third circle, you know." He was about to walk away, and then said, "why the devil are you looking for that place?"
"Oh, no reason in particular," said Han evasively. He walked quickly up the stairs, under the stone arch that led to the city's third level.
After a long search, Dreker found the place. He entered through the doors and found himself in a small front room. A guard sat behind bars at the far end.
"Eh, wot are ye doin' 'ere," he said in a garbled Alaherian accent, "no vis'tors, cain't you read?"
"I want information," said Dreker, taking advantage of the situation quickly. He pulled out a handful of emeralds, and said
"Would these do?"
The guard's face lit up. He straightened and said quickly, "wot do ye wanner know?"
"About Reg Halvor. You know which Reg Halvor I mean."
"Ah, 'im, eh? Wot do yer need t'know 'bout 'im, hey?"
"Why wasn't he tried today like it was scheduled? And is he going to be released?"
"I cain't say anyt'ing 'bout the second questi'n," said the guard, "but 'bout the fust, I thought ev'ryone knew the Emp'ror let 'im go."
"The devil he did! Why?"
"Well, mah brawther is in the h'Imperial Guard, see. An' he told me that ther was some kind o' conspir'cy or somethin', I derno, an' that the man, this Halver fella, was it's head er somethin'. That's wot I heared, anyhow. An' the Emp'ror tol' him ter cut out an' go ter some island in ther north. Exile, I serpose." He glanced at the emeralds in Dreker's hand. "Er... have I arned my reward?"
Dreker put the emeralds absentmindedly into the guard's hand. So a deal was made. At least Halvor's life would hopefully be spared. That was something. But what island? Dreker could name three or four of the some fifteen islands off the northeastern coast of Arcadia. Most of them insignificant, especially compared to the large cocoa- and sugar-rich islands of the south-east. What island would they be forced off onto, away from everything they had ever known?
Han Dreker was, for the second time in his short period as a Guild member, doubtful of the future.
=== Chapter III: MigrationCategory:Fantasy ===
The Guild Migration-- Taking place in N.R. 501, the Guild's "migration" was the transfer of some 3000 Arcadian citizens to the small island of Eskyr, now Merin, in the Northern Sea. The Guild...Reg Halvor's small band of "agents" (A select few who were to remain on the mainland secretly to provide news) were dispersed through Arcadia and...Among the migrants was a young Malac Kalsov, who was later a very important and distinguished member of the Guild. --The Book of Luthan
Three days had gone by. A hasty gathering of members, a mad scramble to assemble, and a large crowd of migrants heading down most of Arcadia's main roads - all these things in three short days. Now, over three thousand men, women and children gathered at Herov Port. The ten ships, each of which could carry nearly three hundred passengers, waited off the coast. They had been provided, very generously, by the Emperor. It was time to leave.
Han Dreker walked through Herov Old Town. Guards, Imperial officers, waiting for the ships to take the rabble away, stood around the harbor and in the streets.
"Good news," said Jorge Maskov, when Han walked over and greeted him. He was supervising the loading of supplies onto the ships.
"What's that?" Han Dreker sounded tired.
"We have hope that Reg Halvor will join us after all," Maskov answered, "he left Tahira two days ago. He's expected today, or possibly tomorrow."
"Tomorrow will be a day too late," Dreker said.
"Of course, the Emperor didn't expect every member to have left within three days, especially with the short notice we received. An exception will be made for some of the stragglers."
"That's a relief," Dreker replied, disinterestedly. He looked over the wharf toward the breaking waves of the Sea.
"Well, I'll see you later, Dreker," Maskov said, walking off toward the nearest ship.
Dreker walked down the street bordering the water. As he rounded a corner, he felt a jar, and tripped, landing heavily on the road. A sound of laughing reached his ears. As he rose, he saw a couple of soldiers snickering. The one in charge had tripped him.
"Git outta 'ere," he said "scum. Why we don' keel ya, I don' know."
Han threw a punch that knocked the soldier to the ground. The other two stepped forward with a shout. Dreker drew his sword.
The first soldier came toward him, sword also drawn, and swung downward. Dreker caught the blade with his own and with a twist sent it clattering to the ground. He knocked the guard down with the butt of the sword. The second came, and after a few moments of clashing, Dreker sent his sword through the man's shoulder.
Just as the third man was about to attack, a shout came from around the corner, and Lennar Ponyets, appeared, with four other Guild members. He stepped over calmly. The last soldier sheathed his sword, and nervously looking at the company, raced off with his companions.
"Damn you!" he shouted, as he ran off. He didn't dare stay to say more.
"You alright?" asked Ponyets, looking at a cut Dreker had received.
"I'm okay," Han Dreker insisted, "just a scratch."
"You shouldn't pick fights with Imperials," Lennar Ponyets chided, "especially when we are so close to leaving this place. You'll muff our plans."
"Sorry," Dreker said, untruthfully, "but he started it, I'm afraid."
"I'm sure he did. Well, it's ten minutes till we cast off. Let's get on board. Fortunately, you go with us."
On board the largest ship with Maskov and Ponyets, Han Dreker looked down on the little town of Herov. Soon, it would be gone in the distance. The sun was hidden behind clouds, and it was chilly.
As a shout reached Dreker's ears, and the ship cast off, a messenger arrived, on a tired-out horse, on the dock. He said something Dreker couldn't catch. He wanted to tell the men on the ship something. Maskov was next to Dreker.
"The devil?" said Maskov, "a late message I suppose. Here, he's sending it over now."
The messenger had tied the paper he carried on an arrow, then drawing his bow, sent it flying into the mast. Maskov picked it off and unfurled the letter. As he read, his face turned dark.
"Read this," he said, handing it to Han Dreker.
Jorge, (it ran), I have been informed that under the circumstances, I cannot possibly accompany you to Eskyr. I cannot waste any time. I have caught the hill-fever, as we were traveling to Gont, and have little time to live.
You are about to leave now, and have little hope of seeing the mainland again. You are sole leader of a group of three thousand men, women, and children. And more than that, you are their teacher, now. But you have one more task than that.
I told you that your mission - our mission - was to preserve the old, the good, the useful things - and the people themselves. Your job is to wait for the fall; but not only will you do this - you will, in fact, build up the new Empire.
But it couldn't be done by force. Destroying the old to replace it with the new, far from speeding this process, would only kill you and your people. You may be killed even now. The Empire will one day fear you, and attempt to destroy the Guild. It is up to your descendants to prevent that from happening.
That is all. Your mission is one hundred times harder than before. It is up to you, now. Building a new Empire, a new world power, may be beyond your descendants, or may not. We may see... 
Goodbye, and good luck...
== Part Two: Establishment ==
=== Chapter I: The Traders ===
The Traders-- An integral part of the Guild's supporting economy, the traders from the start roamed the immediate waters around the isle of Merin. The position of the island, between the mainland and the Outer Reach, made this island a suitable region for international trade...The traders brought nearly all of the island's revenue to it for nearly thirty years. Logran Miscov, a noted barterer and trader, made a very deep impact on the Outlands in particular, around the year 538...--The Book of Luthan
I
"Wake up, Mikal! The island's in sight," said Beca Stors, shaking him. The sun was flooding through the window, and the waves beat against the sides of the ship gently, rocking it slowly.
"What's the- oh," Mikal Havish, rubbing his eyes, "we've made it, then, have we?"
"Unless you smash the ship on the rocks, when we come into the harbor," said Beca with a smile. She walked into Mikal's private "kitchen", leaving Mikal to prepare for the day.
As they ate breakfast, Beca watched Havish closely. He looked up and saw her intelligent, blue eyes staring at him."What is it? Worried about something?" He asked gruffly.
"No," she shook her head. Looking out the window, she said suddenly, "we're almost there. You had better get up on deck and take command."
Mikal Havish walked up on deck imperiously. He ran into Jori Fara coming down to see him.
"How's the loot, Fara?" asked Havish curiously.
"Well, captain. The two chests of sugar and cocoa, and the gunpowder and ores are all safely packed and ready to load off."
"Good. Have the folks ready to do so as soon as we hit the harbor."
"Yes, sir." Fara scurried off.
Havish rounded the corner and appeared on deck. The crew were busy about the sails and the rest of it. Within half an hour, the boat was landed, and two Guild Customs officers appeared.
Mikal Havish sighed. The customs were relaxed here, but between the customs here and in Arcadian ports, he lost some six percent of his profits. Fortunately there was plenty to go around this time. He escorted the men into the hold, had Fara show them the log, and walked back up. He stepped on the dry boards of the dock, the first solid structure he had walked on in twenty-four days. In a moment he found himself facing Anselm Stors, the single most important man on Merin besides the Guildmaster, Hoeb Naiver. He had brown hair and was dressed a bit more richly than most other Merinians, but there was nothing very noticeable or high-and-mighty about him.
"Well, I see your voyage went well," Stors said with a smile, "where is little Beca?"
Just like him, Havish thought. As far as he could tell, nothing mattered half so much to Anselm Stors as his "little Beca."
"On board," Havish replied quickly, "she wants to see everything, as usual, and the C.O.'s are onboard."
"Yes, the C.O.'s," said Stors distastefully, "well, I suppose - ah, here she is now."
"Hullo," Beca waved from the ship. She made her way down the plank and stepped onto the dock. "I'm back."
"I can see that," said Stors, frowning, "and if you had listened to me you never would have gone on board."
Beca Stors frowned. "If I had listened to you ever, I would still be sitting in an empty room with absolutely nothing to do. I'm perfectly able to take care of myself; I wish you would realize that."
Anselm Stors waved his hand. "It hardly matters. You're safe and on dry land again. Let's forget about it. I hope that you at least learned something from this sea voyage."
"Of course I did," she said loudly, as the two walked away, "I could tell you..." Her voice faded and was swallowed in the noise and commotion of the dock, as Havish turned and dealt with the cargo.
II
Mikal Havish had been in Merin Harbor for two weeks. He had only the night before considered a new trip. The profits had been decent, but he had nearly a quarter of his cargo still housed in the hold of his ship, the Dolphin, and he needed to be rid of it. Besides, he was never a person to settle down. He preferred to always be on the move.
He stepped out onto the streets. The stone houses, simple little structures, were clustered all around his small rented cottage. He took a deep breath and walked toward the harbor.
The waves were calmly beating against the beach. The sun was, for the first time in some days, shining. Looked like a beautiful day to begin a voyage.
"How's the ship?" Havish called up to Fara, who was onboard.
"Just fine," Fara replied, "we're about ready to leave. Are you?"
"More than ready," Mikal Havish said, walking up the plank.
"There is one thing," Fara admitted, "and that is that Lund was sent into town on some business. He'll be back in a few moments."
"Right then. Let me know when it's time. I'll be in my cabin."
"Right, sir."
III
Mikal Havish had been writing a new entry in the ship's log when he heard a commotion on deck. There was the sound of yelling, and it was clear there was an argument in progress.
"What the devil is going on up here?" Havish demanded, coming on deck. Keinar Lund and Fara approached him.
"There's the girl again, Stors, and she's demanding to be let onboard."
"Well?"
"Well, that fool Lund brought her along. But we aren't sup-"
"Let her come here," sighed Mikal Havish, already losing interest. Beca appeared a moment later, looking hostile.
"What's the idea, Mikal, going off and leaving me stuck on this little block in the ocean?" she cried out, throwing her head back.
"I didn't think you'd care to come."
"If that isn't a damned lie, I don't know what is," she said angrily, "I'm coming whether or not you or - or-"
"Your father?" Havish prompted.
"-whether you two like it or not!"
"Well, I suppose that settles it," said Havish, after Beca had stormed off down the hatch, "I can't do anything about it. Get the sails down and let's get out in the open sea." The crew rushed off to obey his orders.
Mikal Havish had the feeling this would be an interesting trip.
=== Chapter II: Unity ===
Western Alliance-- The W.A., established 521 for the protection of the western region's interests, consisted of five larger countries and two nation-states. The larger players in world politics - Keron, Hort, and the Sandorian Empire - were, in essence, the supporters of all the other members of the Alliance. Smaller factions and states, such as Anacria and Kerros...had little or no impact on the world of Minecraft as a whole. According to historians, the meeting between Keron, Hort, and Sandor took place on the thirtieth day of Restoel, N.R. 547... --The Book of Luthan
I
The Western Alliance met for the sixth time in it's twenty year existence as Havish's ship was beginning it's voyage to Arcadia. Taliesin, King of Keron; Alexandra haut Mudora, Countess of Hort; and Emperor Gestron, of Sandor, were gathered in the Great Hall at Vali-halla in Keron. Behind them and the four other regals, high on the stone walls, were the banners representing the countries that they called their domain.
Taliesin cleared his throat. With a gesture implicating silence, he began
"As this Union has occurred within my domain, I reserve the right to make an opening statement. Brothers and sisters, we are all aware of the current position of Arcadia, just as much as we are of ourselves. While they seem strong, in truth they decay inwardly, day by day. And even while their heart rots, they spread. Conquering here and there. Who here could look at a map and say that it resembled the maps of forty years ago? Nobody. And while lands give up their land unconditionally to Arcadia, without so much as a thrust or a parry, for fear of destruction, in truth the Empire has no more power to destroy them than they do their neighbors. So it is by fear alone that Arcadia conquers. But could we not take advantage of this? Can't we take this opportunity to strike their decaying Empire to the heart, and kill it? That is why we have met here today. Not since the day our fathers and mothers were rulers have we gathered here."
The speech was long, but all present listened, interested. The great thing about Taliesin was that, when he spoke, it sounded, not like a perfectly ordered and pre-conceived speech, but as if he was speaking on the spur of the moment. All agreed with him, if not for a good reason, then at least because his voice, the way he spoke, made it seem wise to do so.
"We agree, or else we wouldn't be present today," said Gestron drily, "but I assure you that the Empire has more power than you'd think. My army can testify to that"
"Hirelings, Gestron," said Taliesin, waving the comment aside, "foreign barbarians and rogues hired to do battle and take a share in the spoil, if they live through the battle."
"These ones at the river Kendo are Imperials, all right," Gestron growled, "armor, banners and all."
"Well, we'll discuss military matters later," Taliesin said, "but I am interested in how your little domains are holding up against this force," he continued, turning to Alexandra.
"Well enough," she said, with a scowl, "my region is, as you know, second only to yours."
"And fourth to the Empire!" cried Gestron, "as for mine, I am second to Arcadia itself. I am, no doubt, the most powerful of all of us."
There was an angry murmur among the smaller lords and rulers.
"I didn't bring you all here to battle it out over whose domain is greatest. More than one war was started from one of these quarrels," said Taliesin darkly.
The leaders bowed their heads in consent and Gestron continued.
"The Empire is not a force to be cast that lightly aside," he continued, "they are still strong, whether it's their own men or mercenaries they're sending out here."
"True," said Alexandra, "but mercenaries can be bought over."
"Possibly," said Taliesin, "in fact, they may see that there is more in it for them if the Empire falls than if we do. The Empire's claimed territory is still the largest, and as for the treasury - well, that's a whole other thing."
"But what about us?" asked the Lord of Urik, "we are some of the smallest countries, and on the borders of Arcadia, too. We'll be sacked and pillaged and burnt either way."
"No, you won't," said Gestron, "we'll see to that ourselves. No worrying in the way of that."
"Then are we agreed?"
"If you mean should Arcadia be dealt with as soon as possible, then yes," said Alexandra, "but we cannot launch a full attack into their land immediately. We must do a bit of planning first."
II
"This is where we will strike," said the Emperor of Arcadia, pointing to a point on the paper, "it has the best chance of causing repercussions." He had a map spread out in front of himself and the three advisors he had invited to survey his plan.
"By creepers, it will never work," said the first, "the government of Keron is far too intelligent to-"
"I say it will work," the Emperor growled, "I have studied it long enough. What does it matter if they don't believe it. Our people will, and what's more, our allies Hoeg and Kest will be forced to supply us with aid, thanks to the treaty we signed last year."
"It is somewhat risky, Lord," said the second woman.
"And our current position is even riskier. We will do what we can to fix that. If it doesn't work, well, I have a few other ideas to try."
"If we don't get pulverized for what we plan to do."
The Emperor simply shook his head and smiled coldly.
III
"The news that an Keronian citizen targeted and killed several Arcadians with a large explosion of TNT in the streets of Kil-balla has reached our ears long before it has yours," said the Envoy from Gest. He was speaking to Lord Toran, leader of the Menari Faction.
"True, the news only reached us yesterday," Lord Toran nodded, "but we were prepared for it. What of it?"
"You are allied with Keron, aren't you?"
"Yes, but that does not make the Menari or the other allies responsible. If it was a Keronian citizen which committed the crimes (which I doubt), then we are not to be held accountable. Neither is Keron itself, for that matter."
"Ah, but they are to be held accountable," said the Envoy coldly, "and Arcadia's allies will back her up in the event of a war for which she has a perfect and undeniable pretense. But why talk about war? Wouldn't it be easier to talk about a simple peace agreement?"
Lord Toran looked at the Envoy darkly. "And what would the agreement be??
The Envoy smiled. "Simple. In return for not carrying out a perfectly justifiable war with Keron and it's smaller allies, you will deliver to us the whole of the land of Kendo, which was obtained under dubious circumstances from Arcadia in the first place. In addition to this, you will please to offer the Empire the sum of one thousand emeralds in gold, diamonds, or lapis. A rather simple term, eh?"
"You value the lives of twenty citizens very highly, don't you?" Toran sneered, "last time I checked, you were quite willing to allow thousands of soldiers to die needlessly in the Outlands, conquering the Islands there; but now you must have over three thousand emeralds in land and in money?"
"Good Arcadian citizenry is hard to come by these days."
"And honest rulers are even harder. I refuse this option with full authority from the Emperor of Keron to do so. If it's war you want to wage, then so be it." Lord Toran crossed his arms.
"Then war it is," said the Envoy, "tsk, tsk, it would have been far easier to have chosen the alternative. You will be invaded within the week."
Lord Toran shook his head as he walked away from the private meeting room slowly.
IV
Both Arcadia and Keron had known what the outcome of the meeting would be, and both gathered their forces together so that either of them might have the first advantage when it came time to battle. Arcadia gathered her soldiers faster, however, and within an hour of the Envoy's news reaching Arcadia (nearly twelve hours before Lord Toran reached Keron's capital, Teis), the army was marching and the soldiers of Keron were still awaiting orders.
Kendo was in fact the first meeting place of the two armies. The battle was short. Arcadia's forces were larger, they had the higher ground, and most of the Keronians were forced into the river.
Jeni Olsten, a Keronian sniper, was sitting in the camp at Two Rivers. She had had a long day. 
First she'd had to march some twelve miles with the main infantry, waking at six and walking until nearly eight at night. Then she had set up on the ridge, waiting for an Arcadian troop to pass. She had loaded her crossbow, rested it on a rock, and released the bolt, striking the Commandant through the head and killing him instantly. The other troops had panicked, and the Keronian mercenaries had killed several of them easily, the rest going away through the tall grass. With the Commandant dead, the Arcadians were thrown off balance, and it was to be hoped that it was going to be a while before a new commander came. Jeni had received a good deal of praise for her shot, and came into camp being praised by the small troop.
"I'd trade my job for yours rather than fight these maggots any day of the week," said Second Lieutenant Boer, darkly, "it must be easy to get up there and pick off those fools without them even noticing."
Jeni didn't tell him that there was always a moment of doubt before she pulled the trigger, these days. She couldn't. It would only make him doubt her ability and be less willing to trust her on important assignments.
"I suppose so," she said simply, picking a fish off the campfire and eating it.
"I guess the forces won't arrive to back us up until tomorrow," said Piers, the Commdor. He shook his head and checked the string of his crossbow.
"And I hear these Imperials have got netherite," Boer added.
"I'll bet, but what does that matter?" asked Morey suddenly. He was guarding the rear of the small camp.
"Oh, it doesn't matter much," answered Piers sarcastically, "except that it's stronger than diamond and is pretty damned hard to penetrate. Even Jeni's arrows here won't be able to make much else than a dent in them."
"Netherite's hard to find, I hear," said Boer, "not many miners willing to risk the Nether, I guess."
"You bet they don't," Piers said, "it's Hell in there. But somebody's gotta do it, y'know. Netherite is expensive devilish expensive, too."
"We can hardly get our hands on iron, let alone diamonds or netherite," said Jeni, "so what are we going to do?"
"Fight those creeps as long as we can," Boer said firmly, "we can't give up, no matter what. At least we are gaining time for Farley's troop to get here."
That was true. Farley was busy in the west, gathering a large force to counter the troops at Kendo, but until then, Jeni and the others were on their own.
=== Chapter III: Division ===
Undoubtedly the greatest threat to Arcadia and it's enemies during the Great War was the massive gathering of pillagers and other evil mobs, left unchecked due to the human preoccupation with the war. This problem came to a head on 7 Spring 547...when several thousand troops, on both sides, were ambushed by the hostile forces of the mobs... --The Book of Luthan
I
Jeni and the others had bivouacked on the side of Mount Aslo the night before. Down below them lay the grassland on the banks of the river Kendo and, perhaps a mile of through the terrain, lay the river itself, flowing through steep cliffs on the Kendish side and smooth banks on the other.
"Quite a sight, eh?" asked Boer, as they peered over a rock, looking at the landscape below, "and in half a day the field will be red with the enemy's blood, or ours."
Jeni shuddered. She suddenly realized that she, Boer, Piers, or the entire company could very well perish, along with all of Farley's forces, which would arrive at the same time as the opposing Arcadian army.
"Horses all saddled?"
"Yes," was the answer.
"And armored, too?"
Again, "yes," was the reply.
"Good," said Boer, rubbing his hands, "and now to wait."
That afternoon, as the sun began to sink into the west, Jeni and the others ate their last meal before the battle. It could very well be our last meal ever, she thought.
"Look, Commdor!" called a guard, "across the river!"
Piers jumped up, startled, and looked across. Over the river, a large army was marching, approaching the bridge quickly and beginning to shift into rows of four to cross.
"Well, lads," Piers said, looking up towards the mountain, "our aid isn't here yet. You know what we've gotta do. Swords out, bows drawn, on your horses quick!"
Jeni got on her horse like the others. No cool, clear, easy shots for her; she would be battling sword in hand today. The whole company moved forward and charged.
The Arcadians were on the bridge, making them easy targets for the arrows of the Kendites. Several of them fell in the first volley, and swords began to cross.
But twenty-nine soldiers could not hold off some three thousand very well armed Imperial soldiers for long, and the company began to give way. When Jeni was nearly overwhelmed with enemies, suddenly they turned and fled off, regrouping. She heard shouts at the same time and, turning, saw why. The forces under Farley had arrived, nearly four thousand troops, on foot and on horse.
The Arcadian forces gave way and backed toward the river, battling the best they could. The tall grass made it difficult for foot soldiers to battle, and the horses often trampled men and women underfoot. Jeni shouted as she saw Boer fall, struck by a crossbow bolt, and Morey was sliced through by an enemy's sword.
The battle had turned. Or so Jeni thought. Outnumbered, the Arcadians were losing ground fast, and nearly overwhelmed. Then everyone was still. A horn blew in the mountains, and all at once, a massive storm of pillagers and mobs sprang on the two armies.
The effect was terrible. Horses, frightened, threw their riders; and creepers, hissing and rushing toward the humans, blew craters in the ground, generally killing two or more soldiers. Pillager arrows showered down over the armies, who now came together in order to battle a common enemy.
"Back!" called Piers, waving his arms madly. An arrow stuck out of his shoulder, and he was slumped over on his horse. "Back, damn it, back!"
The troops obeyed, giving up ground and regrouping under the shadow of the mountain. Jeni approached Piers as the front lines hit up against the mobs, and arrows fell again.
"What do we do?" she shouted, blood staining her face.
"There's a passage, in the mountain," Piers gasped, "a tunnel. It's secret, but we will have to find it. Let's go!"
"And the army?" Jeni yelled back, "what about them?"
"Better that some of us should survive than none of us," Piers answered, "we can't do anything here. Follow me!"
Jeni found herself following, half conscious of her surroundings. A dream. Yes, it was a dream. Suddenly a sharp pain in the back of the head. Jeni fell as a rock, hurled somewhere from above the valley, hit her head.
II
Jeni woke up on a bed. She couldn't see clearly for several seconds, but she took in her general surroundings. A bed, in the middle of a room with a wooden floor and stone walls, with strange lamps imbedded in the ceiling. She blinked. Suddenly, she realized that there was somebody standing beside the bed.
"Are you alright?" asked the mysterious figure, holding a bottle in her hands.
"I-I think so," Jeni replied, rubbing her aching head, "who are you?"
"The name's Bayta," said the figure, "does your head hurt? Can you get up?"
"I don't think so," Jeni managed to chuckle.
"Take this," Bayta prompted, handing Jeni the bottle. It was full of red liquid.
"What's this?" asked Jeni, suddenly suspicious. Bayta laughed.
"A potion. Healing, you know. You drink that and you'll be up and at 'em in a few moments."
Jeni hesitated, and suddenly resolute, swallowed the potion. It tasted strangely sweet, and she had a warm feeling as she felt strength returning to her body.
"Better, right?"
"Yes. But where's-"
"The Commdor Piers is down a level, having his arm treated," said Bayta, leading Jeni to the door. "We can go see him if you like."
Jeni nodded, and they headed out the door, powered by a strange device called a pressure plate.
"What are these lights?" asked Jeni, as they headed downstairs.
"I'm glad you trust me enough to ask me about the lights and not about who or what I am," Bayta chuckled, "it's redstone."
"I thought redstone was useless."
Bayta shook her head. "Redstone might be to you," she answered, "but our techs have figured out how to do all sorts of things with it. Pistons, levers, lamps, circuitry..."
"Who do you mean by 'us?'" Jeni wondered.
"The Guild, of course."
"You are the Guild?" Jeni was in awe. She had heard of this foundation, but had never hoped to see it.
"Yes. We live entirely underground. Above us is the field where your unfortunate friends are now. I am afraid we can't do anything now."
"How many are under, in here?"
"Nearly five thousand. We are the largest Guild foundation on mainland Minecraft."
They entered a room, well lit by the lamps, and Jeni saw Piers, his arm tied up.
"How are you, Commdor?" asked Bayta.
"Alright, thanks," said Piers gruffly, "are you alright, Jeni? Not a little stone that hit you, you know."
"I'm fine. But it seems the troop is not."
"How did you know about this place?"
Piers looked over at Jeni nervously. "Er, well... you see, I've been a member of the Guild for some time now. Secretly, of course. This is our main center of operations. I send along new and promising members and see how they do in the Guild."
Jeni stood still for a moment.
"I wish you had told me about this place before. I feel like I could wander through this place forever."
"I'm glad to hear that. We'll very likely be here for a long time."
Jeni stopped. "You mean..."
Piers nodded. "It had to end this way, Jeni. The Empire had to fall (although it hasn't quite yet), but for that to happen, all the other little places had to fall, too. The monsters have taken over, raiders and pillagers are on the loose, and all our forces together are hardly enough to stop them. It's over."
Jeni looked down at her boots.
"But that is why the Guild is here," said Bayta, "to preserve and protect. Someday soon we will come back above ground. The Empire hasn't fallen yet. Our messengers and agents can tell us that."
"It won't fall for some time," Piers added, "it will remain an outpost, a faction, for quite some time. I expect it will never really fall, not fully, anyhow."
Bayta nodded slowly. "It's a shame. But as long as the Guild stands, we have hope..."
They walked down a final flight of stairs and through a threshold. A massive cavern room, the ceiling so high it was lost in inky darkness, stretched over them. Many people, some behind merchant stalls, some at long tables filled with food, and some walking by on business, walked around the huge chamber, some three hundred blocks long.
"Quite a place to stay," said Jeni.
"For a while," Piers said, "for a while."
III
Beca Stors peered over the ship's rail. The little inlet of Hoeb offered little to relieve the eyes of the monotonous surroundings. Grey sky, dingy buildings, dirty streets, empty huts. A few suspicious-minded traders hung around the harbor.
"We're here," said Mikal Havish, looking around quietly, "but it seems the citizens are not. What's going on?"
Beca couldn't answer. Havish approached a trader and posed his question.
"Monsters. The monsters came," said the trader shortly, "they busted up all the villages, burning, killing. Some humans were with them too, scavengers and raiders. It's all gone." He waved his hand over the empty fields.
Fires were burning in the forest to the town's right, toward the east. The sun was hidden in a red haze of smoke.
"Bad," said Fara, "very bad. What about all of our goods?"
"Nobody to buy them now," said Havish, "but that's the least of our worries. The world has changed quite a bit since we left Merin."
"I hope they are still safe," said Beca with a shudder.
"Don't worry about that," said a trader, "these barbarians have very little know-how when it comes to sailing."
A small band of warriors with shields approached the village at dusk. All of them wore ratty leather armor, with some gold helmets or iron leggings interspersed here and there. The leader approached at the head of the company, with two banner-bearers holding blood-red banners, each with a black cross.
The leader walked through the village main street until he came to the well. The rogue traders and Havish, along with a few of his crew, waited.
"Is this your village?" the leader demanded. He was taller than most of the others, and he wore a netherite chestplate, nothing more.
"No," said the head of the rogues, "came here after the defeat."
"Hmm." He looked around. "Are you Arcadians, or Kendites? Answer quickly."
"We are all different races," said the rogue, "and we fight or defend none. We are for ourselves."
"Well, this small band," said the leader, "these are my friends and subjects. We are the Menarii."
"That is good. What news do you bring, then?"
"Only bad. Our native country is destroyed, or very nearly. We are looking for suitable territory to start anew. This area does not seem too bad. What is our position, exactly?"
"About twenty miles from the border of what's left of Arcadia," a trader said, "they've withdrawn from most of their land, fortifying only a small piece of it."
"Good," the leader smiled, "my name is Rynard Eskon, and what are yours?"
The trader named his friends, and Havish provided the names of his crew. The leader nodded shortly.
"What do you think of joining with us, lads?" Rynard asked. "The times will only get rougher, and in these days, the more friends the merrier. What do you say?"
The traders considered. "What's in it for us?" asked one.
"Nothing but survival, friend," Rynard answered, "although perhaps a share in any loot we come across will be granted. But we are preservationists, not looters and scavengers."
The traders nodded. They had a brief discussion among themselves.
"Is there any room for us in your clan?" asked Havish. Beca nudged him.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, "aren't we going back to Merin."
"Not at this rate," he said, pointing to the crew. They were having a debate over whether or not to return to the island.
"The waters you came from will be dangerous," said Rynard, "the corsairs have gotten a hold of some of our ships, which I don't need to tell you are some of the best-built around."
"We will stay, for now," said Havish, "if you don't mind."
"Splendid," said Rynard with a nod, "and you?" He looked at the traders expectantly.
"We will join you, too" said their leader.
"Very well," Rynard looked around, and waved his arm over the village, "this village will be our beginning. It's not much of one, but we may make something of it. There is coal in those rocky hills, and iron under our feet, and wood from the forest. I expect you all to work equally hard, you understand. Our first business will be building up a wall around this place. Work will begin tomorrow, right?"
There was a unanimous sound of assent, and they went among the houses, searching for a suitable place to rest.
"A campfire ought to be lit in the village center," said Rynard, "and I want guards to watch the perimeters by fours, being replaced every three hours, till six o'clock."
IV
Four months later...
The village was thriving. The Menarii had wrangled in any stragglers outside their now high and quite strong wall and pulled them in. The forty Menarii, twelve traders, and fifteen crew members were now joined by nearly eighty new folk, both Menarii and Outlanders. The trade route had been set up with a small settlement known as the Hypixel Faction, and plenty of ores had been yielded up from the dark caves of the mountains.
Mikal Havish was thoroughly enjoying himself. Placed in charge of trade, he made frequent back-and-forth trips between Hypixel and New Menar, as their settlement was called. It was dangerous, true, as plunderers and monsters roamed through nearly every forest and river bank, but it was enjoyable. Havish liked danger.
Beca had enjoyed it as well. As far as she was concerned, she could stay there forever and not worry about ever returning to her island home. Adventure and excitement were what she wanted, and the mainland had plenty of it. New villages were popping up where old ones had been destroyed, and people began to talk of skirmishes to rid the hills and grasslands of monsters.
But there was another rumor, a darker one. The bloody wars in the North had been lost, but Arcadia still stood, barely, hardly stretching herself beyond the limits of Tahira, her capital city; but she was there. And rumors of a new sort of evil spread farther. It was not just monsters, not just pillagers, no just aimless mobs wandering around and killing at random. There was a force behind it. Something that controlled the monsters themselves. A rumor only, and one that Menar ignored at that, but it was still there, spreading...
Something dark...
Category:CreepypastaCategory:First PastasCategory:Fantasy
Category:FoxofJudyFoster
Category:Long Pastas
Category:Supernatural