A People's Enlightenment

*The following story is the culmination of related messages and events that were performed by Krizovia on the official Aoshtai Discord.*

## A Trumpet Sounds

The throne room of Krizovia was, in an otherwise run-down and dreary mega station habitant, an air of cultured refinement and tranquility. It was a long walk to the throne through its towering ebony double doors; blacks and reds adorning the hall from side to side, a black carpet itself going from the door all the way to the throne. There were also posts for guards, and standing areas for esteemed guests, where they could enjoy her presence and edicts within the light of the overhead white candles. But nobody was here today, not even a guard; Her Highness' own Chancellor had come, report in-hand.

Artemovich, his black suit and white collared shirt; yellow and blue striped tie, contrasted with the more ornate surroundings. But, every day in Krizovia brought it's own interest, a clashing of different time periods and stylistic inclinations. He kneeled before the throne, before Her Highness, and lowered his head.

"Arise, Chancellor."

He would comply, and stand back up, straightening himself and his tie out. His straight expression, a plain face with a permanent downward curl in the corners of his mouth, would remain unchanged as he shifted the black leather binder from under his arm, and to his hands. "Your Own Chancellery has finished it's evaluation of the wider galaxy; and it has brought it here before you tonight for your reading."

Her Highness would wave a hand; "I care not to read it, I would rather be provided a verbal summary, if you may."

There would be a pause.

"Chancellor."

Artemovich would glance up at Her Highness and hold his gaze, a calculating expression resting in his eyes, one of consideration. "...Your Own Chancellery has concluded that the foreign situation is definitively unfavorable, it will never tilt towards the favor of the Krizovian Realm. The challenges posed by the history, culture, religion, and politics of Aoshtai-- Regarding the goal of restoring the respect of Her Highness, is insurmountable."

"Therefore, it is the Well Researched and Advised Position of Your Own Chancellery, that a cha--."

Another wave of the hand,

"Stop."

"...No, no, I do not consider this so. It doesn't make any sense, we have done everything right, we have acted as a proper nation should. I-- I have done everything right, I've reached out to Aoshtai and beyond, I've secured the safety of far-flung Karians, I've demonstrated our good will. The realm is even beginning to form proper trade ties proper to nations across this fair galaxy-- No, it doesn't make sense, I think you're mistaken. It will take time, but I think they will soon come to reason."

Artemovich's expression would remain unchanged, and he would give a shake of his head, "you have secured ties with other polities across the galaxy, that much cannot be denied, but you have not secured ties with those that matter. The Aller- The Karians, The Ecumene, The Akrom, the Aoshanti, The Arataci-- All have either condemned you before the galaxy, or turned meaningful ties away."

"Rhyanists, the dominant religion in this galaxy, will never accept you due to the inertia from the Tyvusian Invasion; it is too great. The only reason why I am still standing before you, giving you the benefit of hearing this, is that we are isolated from the rest of the Galaxy. That is it. If we were in a more important locale we wouldn't be here right now."

A glare would be the only response at first, before it's questioning hostility would become words.

"Are you suggesting that I've embarked on some foolish folly, that I've made an idiot of myself? That I had not considered these factors before embarking here?"

"Yes."

Her Highness would straighten herself on her throne, her chest rising with fury, fists clenching the throne's arms.

"Can you say that again to me, Chancellor? I don't believe I heard you correctly."

His jaw would clench for a moment,

"You will never regain your dignity as a monarch, or gain the respect of your peers in Aoshtai, it is over and you should reconsider your available cours-"

The point of a blade would press into his throat,

"You won't do it."

"There have been many men in similar shoes to yours over the past millennia, Artemovich, just because you may have a connection to the Old Tsardom does not shield you from the consequences of my displeasure. You are skilled, but I can easily have you replaced, especially now with my newfound ability. So, I inquire, why would I not?"

Artemovich's expression would remain plain as the point of the blade gently sways side to side on his throat, pressing against it's center in an almost taunting fashion. "Replace me with whom. Peasant administrators of long-deserted stations? There is nobody here to replace me, and if you venture North-- Or to the East and West for that matter, you will be destroyed by a galaxy that despises you. Your hands will be cut off before they have a chance to taint the honored men of this galaxy's past."

"All I have done will collapse, there is nobody to take charge of it, and you are well aware of this-- You delegated the tasks of state to me, and to me alone. You cannot go back home either for someone, would you entrust the Realm to the Council of Officers?"

"You would have nobody."

"I would have my power."

"Your power means nothing here. You can kill me and make me finally rest again, but my words, and the words of this evaluation, will ring true. Are you confident enough to do this. Do you think the Galaxy will shed away over seventy thousand years of historical inertia, just for you?"

"No, it will not; and I back these claims with my life."

The black binder would slowly be pushed towards Her Highness, the blade remaining.

"You should see them at least, if not only to dismiss them."

A sliver of blood would leak from his throat, but nothing more, as the blade withdraws and the binder with it. Her Highness, once more, would place herself upon her rightful throne, and would rest the binder in her lap. Her gaze would go downwards, and she would look.

And look.

And look.

And look.

Her gaze unwavering as page to page is slowly turned. Silence.

Artemovich would turn on his heels, and wag a finger upward as he does so, his footsteps getting fainter and fainter;

"Changes, your highness. There must be changes."

Silence.

## Shattered Visage

Sladana would stumble and stagger through her private quarters; she had destroyed everything, there wasn't a single thing that did not bear her mark of fury, of despair, of search. The room was spinning, and everything she had known to be a truth for the past thousand years had been revealed to be nothing but ash, only a ghost that she had kept alive. She would forever be undignified, and her peers among the Galaxies would forever cast her out; a freak, a monstrosity, no true Queen or even Countess. Let alone a grand one.

It was, as her Chancellor said, over... And how she wished it was over earlier, anything but this. Anything but this. She would at least not have the mind to witness her fall into disgrace, the indignity of the sneers of the Galaxies, pointing in amusement as they plotted as to the wonders of her demise-- Forever.

How fitting that it was a whore of a Karian, a true abomination of nature, with arms of metal and perhaps more metal than flesh-- Who knows, yet he was accepted?! Not her? Not her?! The lady who had pacified the Northern Arrival, the lady who had saved the peoples of Prithania and Verisan from their own demise? The lady who had proven her good-will over and over again, the lady who had proven her good will a decade prior as Grand Countess? All of that, discounted, because of WHAT SHE WAS?!

HAD THE GALAXIES GONE MAD?!

"Damn it," she would yell out, the crown that rested on her head dragged down like an acidic leach, burning into her very soul and gnawing away. It made a mockery of her with its mere existence, but it was a mockery that she would no longer tolerate. With a clenched hand, skin breaking and blood spurting onto its encrusted jewels of diamond and ebony jade, the crown would be torn from her head. With a rush of air it would fly down in-front of her and onto the ground, the tip of its top making contact with a--

***Clank!***

Thus came the end of the crown.

It's frame bending and twisting under the weight of her fury, it would split apart into a menagerie of scattered silver pieces, clattering across the floor and into the wall; jewels in tow behind it. Her spilled blood mixed with the shattered pile, the ghost had finally found it's corpse, a cadaver of her dignity, her honor... Her past. All lead up to it, and there was nothing she could have done to change this outcome, how could she have known?

It was destiny, she was always bound to be this failure, this humiliation in a cursed cluster. There are those bound to suffer in reality, always, and she was one of them, only it took her just now to realize it. Isolated and alone, not even a crown to her name. But... If the Aoshanti were to be believed, then there was in-fact perhaps one thing that could have been behind this, the source of all her ills. The most obvious thing; the thing of which it and its followers had forsaken her, dooming her to this path.

Rhya.

But what could she have done? She contemplated for a moment, closing her eyes and averting her gaze from the corpse before her; what could she have done? She asked this to herself over and over again in her mind, mental contemplation soon turning into full fledged screams that reverberated in the room. What had she done, what had she done? She screamed and flailed in despair, but she heard nothing back, a remarkable silence besides herself.

It watched her, surrounding her, mocking her. It, seemingly, was only content in her mediocrity at best and her outright suffering at worst; it demanded blood from her, it demanded more from her. Her path had led her here for this reason, and there was nowhere else for her to go, her place in the universe had been reduced to nothing. It was truly the end, and it wanted to see.

Looking over and beholding a drawing of red stained scratches on her wall; incomprehensible with litterings of cracked nail in it, she would kneel.

Hands shaking, they would scramble to her sides. If it wanted her to suffer, than suffer she shall-- To the end.

Gasoline was poured before her; and in her hands she raised a whip of barbed wire, now dripping in Rhya's malignant glee-- Glee becoming fire as her light was shone on it.

And thusly, it reached out.

Lashing through the air with a metallic crack, the wire of Rhya's glee would strike against her flesh, the goddess' maw retracting with bits of skin that boiled and popped as they withdrew with the wire, smoking blood following suit. Sladana's grunts of pain would soon become screams as the fire raced across her back, the crackling of flames being interrupted by the crack of the whip-- Again, and again, and again. Skin turned to flesh, and flesh turned to her back musculature; no more did the blows of Rhya sound like smacks, but sloshing blows that delved deep into churning and bubbling blood, the fire of which rested atop it as it ran down her back and into a puddle surrounding her.

By the end of it, her screams had turned into a raw and strained wheeze as she curled downward, skin dropping off onto the floor with the consistency of glue from her back. The flames beginning to subside, a black smoke would rise from her, accompanied by the continuous sizzle and popping of her skin. With a thud, she would collapse onto the floor, the burned blood and skin by now forming a small puddle around her.

All would be silent.

But in this silence, the last vestiges of her life would think, wavering against the rapidly encroaching darkness.

She had burned, oh how she had burned; but yet she continued to lie there, death seemed as far away as ever despite what she had endured. But there was no more to gain from her, her misery had reached an apex, what could Rhya...

Her eyes opened, the darkness retreated. Destiny.

"Slava Rhya."

## Affairs In Order

**ELECTRONIC TRANSMISSION - HER MAJESTIES OWN GUARD - CENTRAL DEPARTMENT OF THE INTERIOR**
TO: Slrv. Blina

FROM: Sdirv. Semyonovich

DATE: 10.3.23

ATTN: SOCIAL STATUS AND STABILITY OF REULMA SOLAR STATION REGARDING RECENT CENTRAL DIRECTIVES

Review of Reulma Solar Station and its social stability has found it to be insufficient relating to executing Her Majesty's Most Recent Guard Edict. Other SDIRV are reporting same. Need contact CDJ SLRV and coordinate possible response. Please contact, post-haste, SLRV requisitions and report values that are below STANDARD EMERGENCY RESERVES for: Public Disturbance.

Thank you,

Sdirv. Semyonovich.

## Finally, Enlightenment

The Council of Officers, normally a placid floor of compliant officers bending to the wishes of the Crown, was anything but that. Teeming masses of representatives and statesmen shuffled around on the floor, getting to their seats in the dark chamber, the constant din of voices reverberating within.

The Republic of Prithania's delegation, consisting of both representatives of the Wetjouwer and ministers of government, would be headed by President Bloemsma; a somewhat portly man who had the aura of a leader, but with the stares and glances from his fellow party members among the right side of the assembly, it was clear who really held dominion.

In the center, scrunched between the senior officers of Krizovia to the left and their fellow Prithanians to their right would be the Verisan Worker's Republic, a menagerie of forest green military uniforms and caps, with only the occasional suit to be seen. The stone-faced Chairman Nicolai was the charge here, sitting front and center of his delegation, clenched hand on a table and body leaned back as he watched the assembly fill.

Lastly, to the left were the seniority of the Council of Officers; gray and black uniforms worn by skins of white, a procession of what appeared to be corpses were it not for the fact that they moved and talked as well. Uncomfortable and wary glances were shot over to their counter-parts right of them; never before had a Human stepped foot in the Officers' chamber, and the very fact that they were now presented questions about the future. They had even displaced the more junior officers of the Council, who were forced to watch in a restless mass from balconies to the side of the chamber, bodies leaned against the railing in anticipation; though whether or not they would have had anything important to contribute anyways was a question among the seniority.

Among this restless discourse, a door would open in the side of the chamber, and making their entrance would be Her Majesties Own Chancellor, Kudryavtsev Artemovich. He walked at a slow but steady pace towards his elevated podium at the head of the chamber, a stone-faced but dignified expression resting on him as he glanced over at the assembled masses.

It had been some time since he had ever spoken to a chamber of mostly mortals, during a time of legends and strife through the Tsar's Own Council of Illaria. For a moment, a glimmer would appear in his eye, and an upward curl would crack in the corner of his lip-- A smirk of sorts. But as soon as it appeared, it would go away, there was matters of state to attend to, or rather, what the state would even be.

Taking his position behind the podium, soon another door would open; the Crown itself. But the Grand Queen of the Krizovian Realm and the Fleets, Sladana Zivic, would be missing most of her royal articles, in-fact it appeared she had none on at all. Rather, she would be enshrined in a similarly gray and black uniform like the seniority of the Officers, complete with a cap that signified her position of leadership, a shining silver standard of Krizovia resting on its center.

She looked more like a stateswoman than royalty, eliciting officers, senior and junior alike, to quiet and stare. If there were suspicions regarding what the future might hold, and within it resting changes, this all but confirmed it; a radical change nobody had been particularly alerted to. They would have to make do with this eccentricity, as they always have.

Taking position behind the the Chairman's podium on an elevated platform, Artemovich would glance back, and take this as his cue. Grabbing a wooden mallet, he would slam it down repeatedly,

"Silence, there will be silence."

The chamber would gradually quiet down, everyone in their places.

Clearing his throat, he would raise a sheet of paper before him,

"Her Majesty of the Realm and the Fleets, Gracious Contract-Holder of the Tributaries, Sladana Zivic with Her Esteemed Grace has called today on Aldor 21st of 23 NAC, an Extraordinary Assembly of Tributaries and our Loyal Officers on a Most Pressing Issue that faces the Realm. The Issue of Today's Discussion is the Pressing Matter of the Realm's Governance, and in Particular, the Need to Establish a Final System of which to Govern."

He would continue, "it is the Desire of Her Majesty that the System which is Agreed Upon shall fully integrate the Tributaries of the Realm, to Improve the Standing and Ability of the Realm to both protect it's Fair Tributaries and Unite our Fair People's in an enduring Unity. With the Treatment and Respect offered to the Tributaries of the Realm in the Past, Her Majesty finds this a Fair Position to Debate from and Remedy Particulars."

"Her Majesty, in her Grace, shall Now Open the Floor to-"

A slamming hand would immediately cut Artemovich short, the originator being Chairman Nicolai, soliciting glares from the officers.

"Chairman Nicolai, you will allow me to finish."

Glancing back down at his sheet, he would speak again, "Her Majesty, in her Grace, shall Now Open the Floor to discussion. Chairman Nicolai, you wished to have the floor?"

"I do, and I will."

Standing up straight, a firm authoritarian scowl resting on his face, Chairman Nicolai would adjust his tie with a hand before glancing down at a hastily written down note before him on his desk. He would speak loudly, his accent similar to that of a rural Karian, but less sharp with similar but at the same time different speaking structure-- Whatever his tongue, it has roots in the Karian language, particularly the Rhenburger dialect.

"It is the position of the Verisan Workers' Republic, and the workers of this state, that we find the current arrangement as-is to be suitable for our goals and ambitions, and we find the degree of insulation provided by it to be suitable as well. However, for this talk of greater integration, there are numerous problems; I will not over-spend my stay, so I will point out the most glaring problem."

He would glance up at Artemovich and Sladana, "your usage of the alien and confounding energies that make up the Void, while we have tolerated this due to the separation this system affords, we cannot and *will* not entertain any further talk of integration if it means we will be in closer proximity to this source. We believe it will degrade the collective will of the workers and their vanguard, and cause irrevocable degrade to our society; not out of your desires, but from the nature of this energy itself."

"Already we have run trials on its effects, and they have been disastrous, disastrous! I say again, we will not entertain further talks of integration so long as this issue persists."

"Hear, hear!" Would be heard from the Prithanian isle, followed by the stomping of feet against the floorboards of the chamber, the Verisan and Prithanian aisles starting to descend into a litany of overlapping and discussing voices as Nicolai sat back down.

"Silence, silence."

Another slam of the mallet, and after a longer while, calm would return.

"Her Majesty, in her Forward Thinking of Such an Ocurrence due to the Understandable Fears surrounding the Usage and Spread of the Universal Void, Has Proposed the Following in Advance: The Realm of Krizovia and the Fleets, all Offices and Actors Tied to the Realm Either Private or State, Shall Proceed a Gradual Discontinuation of it's Usage over a Period of Five Years in Totality, in-order to Allow the Organs of State to Adapt."

A slamming hand again, Artemovich would glance up; Nicolai, his eyes widened to a slight degree out of surprise, though this quickly dissipates.

"Chairman Nicolai."

Promptly standing back up, he would tap his finger firmly on the table,

"Now."

"These are the terms of the Verisan Workers' Republic, we want a full discontinuation of these practices in totality, upon ratification of any agreements made here today. If the Realm of Krizovia cannot agree to these terms, there there shall be nothing to discuss here; we will not allow the taint of the void to--"

A senior officer from the front of their aisle would shoot up and wave a hand towards Nicolai, "rubbish! What is this talk of taint? Were it not for what the void has gifted us, you would all still be constantly bombed to shit by those-- those-- Degenerates! Bandits! We would not even be here to save you from it, but you're too blind to see it; and as for the Chancellor!"

The officer looks towards the podium, the aisle of seniority starting to get restless with a clamor of voices, he would open his mouth to speak, but would be interrupted by Nicolai, hand on his belt.

"Have you seen your stations? Do you consider *that* something that should be emulated in Verisan?! I-"

Another slam of the mallet,

"Chairman Nicolai and Officer Cheslav, there will be order in the chamber. Chairman Nicolai, Her Own Chancellor understands the point of which you have presented, and asks for you to cede the floor to Officer Cheslav so I may understand his."

His face contorted in a degree of disgust, Nicolai would stand there for a moment, eyes darting betweeen Artemovich and Cheslav.

"Hmph. Very well, I will cede the floor for now."

"Chancellor!"

Cheslav would look back at Artemovich, "we have been your loyal Council ever since we set sail from the lands of Tyvus, all proposals you have forwarded we have passed, and this much was done under the impression that the dignity and interests of the men that make up our ranks shall be respected! Is this what you call respect? Throwing away the very thing that has given us life just to appease those that are below us, those that would be nothing were it not for us?"

He would wave a hand, "what has spurred this, anyhow? It was but a month ago where we were giving our nod to the edicts you presented us, regulating and defining the practices of the Void that could be done in the Realm! All this talk of regulation, all this talk to those fucking foreigners and Rhyanists about our Realm being approachable despite our use of it, what was it for then? To waste our time?"

"For that matter, why even raise us, then? We are one with the void! What the fuck do you expect us to do if we *can't* use it, sing songs until we aren't? No, no!"

He would smack his fist on the table, "we have been with you through all your troubles, but I can say with some degree of certainty that me and my peers will not on this, and do not forget that *we* are your army! *We* are your navy! Our demands should be respected!"

Before he could even respond, a voice would come from behind Artemovich,

"Chancellor, I'm taking the floor from you."

For the first time since the founding of Krizovia, the Council of Officers would be penetrated by her raspy and weakened voice; it was the rules that the Chancellor would speak for her, or at least that was the case until now. Cheslav would furrow his brows, looking up at her, "your M-."

"You will only speak when I command you to speak."

Silence from Cheslav.

"You stated that you're my army, and that you're my navy. These things are true, you are mine, and so you do as I command. Are you suggesting that this should change."

"Speak."

Cheslav would glance down at his table, before side to side at his peers, who were as sweat-browed as he was seemingly at this development. Wetting his lip, he'd speak.

"I... No, that was not what we sugges-"

Sladana would raise a hand, gesturing him to stop.

"We? You speak for them now? Answer."

Cheslav would shake his head, "no, no, I meant I. I didn't mean to suggest that we should challenge your authority, that is ridiculous, but what I wanted to make clear to you is that our demands on this issue should be respected. We've contributed men and blood to the forming of this thing we have, Krizovia, and that should make our opinions worth considering."

"Hm. I think we've lost track of what exactly we're here for, because it is my duty to tell you this; Krizovia is not here yet, it doesn't exist in a way that is acceptable-- Complete. This is similar to building the foundation of a house, and then calling it a day."

She would start to number things off on her fingers, "we have secured our space, we have secured the people within this space, and we have formed the bare minimum required to operate in a governing capacity. Nothing more than this, which to stop there quite frankly would be a pathetic accomplishment that would not only reflect poorly on my ability as a leader, but your ability as a man of the military."

"We need to propel ourselves beyond this stage, towards the true goal of founding a nation representative of the values we all believe in, and the values our homeland used to believe in. I should remind you, as well, that we're all that is left of Old Illaria-- Elsewhere it is gone to the wind and forgotten, in-fact, little is left at all of Aoshtai before this dark age. We need to succeed in this goal, we must, it is our responsibility not only as people who used to call themselves Illarian, but our responsibility as inhabitants of the cluster."

"The void was useful, it resurrected the souls of Old Illaria, it secured aid from the Dreadfleets, it helped bring us here. But it is nothing but a booster, eventually it must be jettisoned, otherwise this rocket will plummet to its demise."

"I am aware of our nature, the void is within us all, but that is the price for bringing glory in the name of our forefathers. The price for continuing that glory is the cessation of its practice, and all the pain that will bring; but this should not be an alien concept to you, because you should know, that one of the main tenants of Illaria from time before was..."

She would gesture a hand towards him to speak.

"...Sacrifice."

She would nod, "sacrifice in the name of whom?"

He would clear his throat,

"The Tsar."

Another nod, "and whoever else had the privilege of leading the subjects of the realm, and in this circumstance, it is me. I am your leader. So then, will you commit to sacrificing the comfort the void brings you, in the name of your Vozhd?"

A concerned glance,

"You're the Gr-"

A shake of her head, "no, I am not, that was merely a political holdover. Now answer my question, will you commit to sacrificing the comfort the void brings you, in the name of your Vozhd."

Cheslav would look down, his fists clenched on the table as an agonizing look would crawl across him, eyes squinted upwards ever so slightly. His body would heave for a moment as he breathed, as if he was fighting every ounce of himself just by merely continuing to think about the question; but he would eventually glance up.

"Y-Yes. But the people..."

Sladana, visibly relaxing, would sit back in her chair. "...You're from the same cloth as them, Officer Cheslav, and you have just reaffirmed your loyalty to me despite the pain you suffer. No doubt, there will be countless examples among the people who will have as strong of a will as yourself, but I know that not all of them will."

"But such is the plight of the autocrat, their subjects sometimes are unaware that they work in their interest, and so for that I have my legitimacy, my grace, and... My army."

Her eyes would scan the aisle, "such as now, there are some among you, senior and junior officer alike, that still yet act against me in your mind. How do I know this? Well, I am the one that raised you all, it should be known; it only makes sense that some connection would be there, why else would I have you all in this chamber?"

"But this is fine... For now. We have the question of our state to discuss, and I need all of you available."

A grim cloud would rest over the senior and junior officers, aisle and balcony alike falling silent as they looked on at her, not daring to look away, attentive to every word she said-- An attempt, perhaps, to disprove the notion that any of them may be disloyal. Looking the aisle over, she would smirk, before being forced into a cough.

Settling down, she would look back at Chairman Nicolai, "the Realm of Krizovia finds the terms you presented to us as acceptable."

"Good."

He would scribble something down in his notes, "then the Verisan Workers' Republic is open to continuing this assembly."

This would be met by a grumbled response from the Prithanian delegation, some would stomp their feet, but the enthusiasm from before wouldn't be there. Bloemsma himself looked somewhat surprised, as if he never expected the terms to be agreed to in the first place; he looked through his notes and gave an affirming nod, an aid whispering to him.

"Prithania... Ah... The Republic of Prithania concurs with the Verisan Workers' Republic, we will continue to participate in these talks."

He would glance up at Sladana, "our main concern over the possibility of integration is the rights of tributaries, how will this manifest itself-- Will tributaries have the ability to govern themselves fully still, in your ideal vision of this integration."

"If you want my ideal vision of this integration, you would find that much would remain the same. You would still govern yourselves, and you would still also assign your own budgets; however, economic standards and processes relating to trade would be harmonized for ease of trade within the Realm and beyond. Additionally, your armies and navies, while still under your command, would be integrated into the greater militia to better improve our security situation. Then, of course, you would also become full members of our state, not mere contract-bound entities."

Bloemsma would shake his head, "integrating our force is difficult enough to ask of us, but we both have to protect our own economic interests, and at the very least respect the democratic foundations of our nation. This-- What you're asking of us is impossible, at least without a strengthening of the Rada's responsibilities, protections in-place to preserve our domestic economic interests, and..."

He would check his notes, "...The ability of those faithful to Rhya to freely practice their faith on your stations, and the ability for-"

Nicolai would scoff, "what is this? Does the survival of your sovereignty really hinge on the ability of your clerics to spread their gospel? What next will you suggest, free entry for foreign missionaries?"

"I would say as much, we're a faithful people, and we need to ensure our rights will be protected."

More stomps from the Prithanian aisle and cheers, with some jeers directed towards the Verisan delegation.

Looking over with an expression of annoyance, Nicolai would direct his attention back to Sladana, "the Verisan Workers' Republic itself has its own demands. Firstly, we want assurances that the political apparatuses of the workers within our armed force shall be left unmolested by this integration. Secondly, we want the ability to withdraw these forces in the event we find involvements their in to be unfavorable. Thirdly, while we desire the Rada to have more of a role, we want it to explicitly not be... Similar to Prithanian institutions."

Bloemsma would muster a smile of amusement, "you mean being democratically elected?"

Nicolai would shake his head, "we do not consider Prithania a fully democratic nation."

This would be met by an overwhelming chorus of jeers from the Prithanian aisle, Bloemsma looking back at his table and shaking his head, chuckling to himself.

"Chairman Nicolai, continue please."

The Prithanian aisle would quiet down, and Nicolai would continue, "thank you. Anyhow, the fourth demand the Verisan Workers' Republic has towards any agreement of integration, is the revocation of noble titles within Krizovian space. Fifth, is the right for the Verisan Workers' Republic to enforce it's own political laws upon itself, including but not limited to barring the entry of proselytizing Rhyanists.

Nicolai would barely be able to speak over the jeers from the Prithanian aisle, "and of course, these are merely general goals for us to achieve through further planning, but these are the things that the Verisan Workers' Republic wants-- Generally speaking."

Another strike of the mallet from the Chairman's podium, "silence, there will be silence!"

The din gradually subsiding, Sladana would bring her hands together, "these are reasonable demands, but they will need to be harmonized. I will be frank, it already was within the future plans of the Realm's government to dispose of aristocratic titles, or at the very least it was within my future plans, the disposal of my old titles more then likely being proof enough. But, allowances can be made for the minor nobility of Prithania to continue to have some privileges beyond their space, excluding the space of Verisan."

"The ability for Rhyanists to move and practice their religion was also planned, I think it has been proven well enough by the conduct of the Prithanians that they can act in good faith; after all, Rhya did used to be above even the Tsar, and he was her executor.

"I myself have seen her glory, and a return to those traditions of old I feel would serve well in the reclaiming of our past; but it should be Krizovian first and foremost, it should be ours. This being said, Verisan's religious policies will also be respected."

Cheslov would shoot up in response to this, "are you-- they view us as abominations, the people will not acc-"

"I will make them accept. I also care not for what the foreigners may think of us, or this; it is for us, and us alone. They can accept it, they can not, it will matter little to me."

Cheslov would stumble back into his seat, staring down at his table idly, sweat pouring down his forehead. A look of sheer disbelief would be on his face, hands clenched to his knees, as he shook his head.

"Unreal, this is unreal, how did this happen? What caused this?" He would mutter, the grim cloud over the senior officers turning into a cloud of silent terror, bodies as stiff as boards as they glanced uneasily with one another.

"Officer Cheslov, did you wish to say something?"

Cheslov would glance upward, "why are you doing this, what could have possibly possessed you to go down this path? It-- It doesn't make sense, I'm just-- I-- Perhaps you can help me understand your reasoning, but they-- I-- I just don't understand. They're our enemies, they would rather we didn't exist, these are the foes we've been fighting against for the past month."

He would stand, "this is insanity! Do you not care for us?! Do you not care for your own people?! They will not accept this, I doubt most of my peers will accept this, I doubt I will accept this! Changing our core conviction overnight-- What has possessed you? What has possessed you?!"

"Officer Cheslov, I do not think you understood what I said, glory... Requires sacrifice, that is what the tenants of our past said, and this is our goal, to restore the lost glory of our people. Now, I posit a question to you-- When you were among the living, before your untimely demise, did you or did you not believe in our star mother?"

Cheslov would take a double take, "I di--"

"Then what is the difference now? All you here, assembled before me, senior and junior officers, all believed in her grace and fought for it. Would you not be doing the same thing now, if only for an even more noble goal? Restoring what we have lost, restoring what *you* have lost in full, and making it a reality once more."

Gritting his teeth, Cheslov would shout, "no, no! She watched our people fall into-- Into degeneracy, sloth, whoredom! The nobles in their ivory towers grew fat like stuck pigs, and sent us into the grinder! That is why we all met our end, you saw it even! Our bones scattered across distant lifeless worlds and moons and station husks millennia old, for conquests of imperium that meant nothing but to fulfill their own selfish desires!"

"We gave her everything! We were one of the hold outs of her faith in Tyvus, and that is what we were paid with, an undignified death in a trench-- At the hands of her "divinely appointed" rulers!"

His breaths glowing slower, his body would become less tense as he continues to stand, panic transforming into clarity "...We're here now, in a galaxy that doesn't make sense, in a cluster that doesn't make sense. Thrusted from our slumber, and for what? This? What is the point of this if we will only be subject to the same failings of the past, the same failings that led to our demise, surrounded by the same bitch of a goddess and her fucking apostles, who will point and laugh as we're reduced to nothing! I-- I-- I--"

He would stammer, "--why have you brought us back, truly?"

"You of all people should know the answer to this, Cheslov; to restore mine own dignity, to regain a crown that was so unjustly taken from me by my own men, by saboteurs that struck at me from the dark in that damnable coup. But I was given a second chance, so I secured my own land, my own stellar empire, in the pursuit of this goal-- I stumbled upon the Prithanians and the Verisan, bombed for centuries by bandits, and I secured them from this fate. They, and you, would rise up with me-- Forgotten or discarded by our galaxies, labelled cast outs and lost causes, we would finally get the respect we all deserved."

"But..."

She swallowed her words for a moment, "...I had miscalculated. From the days of my childhood up until now, the same being true for yours, Aoshtai had been taught to us as this far off and wondrous place, the former masters of the Illarian people. Surely, they would let us all rise. Surely, they would acknowledge our rightful positions in the universe. Surely... They would accept us, it would take time, I thought, but through our actions as a people, we-- Krizovian, Prithanian and Verisan-- Together, we would be accepted and acknowledged, and together we would regain what we had lost."

"I now know this to be an incorrect assumption, we're considered a backwater to be ignored, a group of plotting heathens and heretics that deserve nothing-- Forgotten, cast away into the shadows, something to be spited and perhaps destroyed whenever we reach out to the greater galaxy. I will never be respected as a queen, or you as an officer, by all of these peoples."

"All of this though, as dreary as it might seem, does not matter. It doesn't matter, for any of us."

Bloemsma's face would contort into a grimace, "well, I would not say as much, we have remained true to the--"

Sladana would look over, "have you ever gotten a missionary? For that matter, have you ever gotten even a transmission from Karstedt, a search light to see what had happened to the ill-fated expedition from Rhenburg?"

Bloemsma would fall silent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Her gaze would go over to Nicolai, "Chairman Nicolai, what about you? Have you ever gotten a transmission, *anything* from Karstedt? Military support to help you with your bandits? Did anyone bother to help you once the signals from your expedition cut out?"

No response.

"Forgotten," she would remark.

"But it does not matter, as I said. Nay, what matters here-- Is *us*, what we are, what we amount to in the grand scheme of things, our dignity not in the eyes of the greater galaxy but to ourselves. For, even if the galaxy may hold us in their high praises, off-handedly giving praise as they run their political games of ruin, it will mean nothing if we don't as well. This-- This is what is truly important."

She would stand up from her chair, "and each of us, either for the past century or in the past month, has striven to achieve this for ourselves! Prithania and Verisan, forgotten in their time of most dire need, forced for a generation to wither under the bombardments of perfidious and cruel bandits; clamoring to reach out to the stars, but despite this hardship, despite this pain and suffering, they rose up! Together, arm and arm with us, we drove out the bandits! Reclaiming their dignity and punishing those that had wronged them, once and for all they were able to realize their dream, but it took SACRIFICE, of which only a people as strong, and as resilient as us could muster!"

Nicolai would look on, fists clenched on the table as his chest began to swell, assorted stomps being heard from the Prithanian aisle. Sladana then would quickly turn,

"Cheslov, officers!"

"You were the victim of a hijacked system, the honor and glory of our people tossed away for petty self-indulgences and drives for power! Used, killed, set aside and forgotten-- Not only you, but the very culture and ideals you used to hold so dearly, discarded when the time became most convenient, by an undeserving people and an even less deserving nobility. But what was once lost can be rebuilt, better and free from the corruption of the past, if not for an unappreciative homeland than for us alone to bask in!"

She would wave her hand, "Rhya was not the culprit for your woes, for it must be *the people* that execute her will, and the people leading the charge of Old Illaria failed in their task! They turned their back on her values, they perpetuated our righteous autocracy not out of a reverence for her principles, but as a means to a political end-- Whoreish nobles and corrupted clergies, the structures of man failed to their temptation. The people make the system, the people execute her will, the people uphold the values we hold so dearly; if they can't, then we will fail in our goals!"

"But I do not see the same people before me that would allow this to happen; I see those who were wronged, those who know the mistakes of the past and can strive not to repeat them! We can strive not to be like the faithless cynical heathens of Illaria as it is today, we can strive not to be the self-flagellating masses of Levlistra, we can strive not to be the chaotic hordes of so-called "pirate republics" that lick the borders of all our collective polities!"

"We can reform the old and make it reborn, but it requires CONVICTION and SACRIFICE-- A CONVICTION to the values of the past in-full, as they were meant to be observed, and the will to SACRIFICE your comforts to achieve this glory, this greater purpose-- The renewed purpose of your rise, a second chance to forge what you love, to forge a more perfect nation based on our values!"

"Now I ask you, do you wish to achieve this glory?! Will you set aside your own selfish desires, and follow her will for this goal; or will you fall to the same failings of your whoreish superiors of eons past, the same failings that lead to your death, the same failings that led to your culture fading away?! Will you let this pain within you, this pain wasting away at your very soul win?!"

There would be a brief silence, but then the sounds of metal scraping against leather would be heard, an officer raising his sword as black hard-light quickly rushes around it. Another would follow his lead, and another, and then another, soon a fair portion of the aisle was standing, swords raised in the air, a chant echoing in the room;

**"WE'LL RECLAIM OUR GLORY! WE'LL RECLAIM OUR GLORY!"**

Her eyes would quickly dart over to the Prithanian and Verisanian delegations, "Prithanian, Verisan, Krizovian! We will all reclaim our place in this galaxy, we will rise above the challenges we face, we will realize our obsessions and our passions as a people! Enduring freedom, enduring stability, and enduring glory respectively-- Three glories, three peoples, exacted through one nation!"

**"KRIZOVIA!"**

The chamber would begin to descend into chaos, a menagerie of raised pistols, fists, and swords from all aisles, only few having the fortitude to remain seated. Among this, a cacophony of voices would become one, Karian and Illarian accents clashing together for a singular word that could be said easily by both;

**"KRIZOVIA! KRIZOVIA! KRIZOVIA!"**

When you stare into the abyss...