Chapter 4

  “Introducing His Royal Majesty, Emperor Peter Leopold Gotthard II, King of the Fourth Kingdom and Emperor of the Asphydyyl Empire and all her holdings!” The booming voice of a hired announcer lofted through the air of the Throne Room.

  He turned to the Emperor, seated on the throne, awaiting his response.

  “It’s a bit too much.” The Emperor commented, “You already said I’m the emperor, must you say Empire as well? I just think it’s a bit too much is all. Perhaps cut it down to just ‘Asphydyyl and all her holdings’.”

  “Um – yes sir.” The announcer said, stuttering, “Shall I go over it again then?”

  “Go ahead – ”

  “Sir!” A man yelled, cutting off the Emperor.

  The Emperor looked to his left where the voice was coming from. A tall, dark-haired young man – the palace’s head secretary – was walking towards the Emperor with a distressed look.

  He approached the Emperor and said, “Sir, have you seen this?”

  He offered up a newspaper to the Emperor. The Emperor took the paper, peering at it through his bad eyes.

  The headline read, Princess or Empress?

  The Emperor looked at the paper for a moment confused, not recognizing its name, not even recounting some of the stories contained within this niche pulp.

  “What,” He said stuttering, looking back up to the secretary, “What is this?”

  The Emperor’s eyes returned to the paper.

  The secretary gasped, searching for the words he needed, attempting to explain the paper to the Emperor, but settling for silence instead. The Emperor angled the paper so to illuminate it with the late-morning sun. He began reading,

  ‘Last night I had the pleasure to speak with Her Highness, Princess Amelia Tragen, on her nineteenth birthday. Through the evening of merriment, a number of topics perforated the spell cast on me by the exuberance of the celebrations, such questions as, “What does the future of an Empress Amelia Tragen hold for the empire?

  'My question, little did I know, would lead to a shocking discovery of incompetence and ignorance at the highest level of government.

  'My interview with Her Highness revealed a number of startling trends plaguing the future empress. Immediately, a question regarding the subversive activities demonstrated in the World’s Fair by both empires was met by a claim of ignorance – or perhaps the princess was truly unaware. This World’s Fair was preceded by the construction of a monumental museum, dedicated to enshrining the Asphydyyl Empire’s conquests and exhibiting the empire’s weapons of war. This museum was constructed on what was once a portion of the Messegel?nde that contained a park and a monumental arch dedicated to diplomacy and peace, however, only twenty years ago, the new emperor altered the arch to be a monument to war, building the War Museum in place of the park.

  'The War Museum has only just finished construction this year, and right before the opening of the largest World’s Fair in recent memory. Now, forgive my insinuation but I can’t help but believe this was intentional, just as we begin hearing whispers of increased militarization in both empires. After insisting she knew nothing of the claims that the emperor is attempting to make a demonstration of strength in an ever-unstable political climate, she even went so far as to claim the emperor has maintained peaceful relations with the Elysium Empire. However, when confronted with the facts of the colonial wars, the princess diverted my question by claiming the politics surrounding the colonial wars were far too complex to discuss. I ask, too complex for our future empress?’

  The Emperor stopped reading; he lowered the paper and looked up at the palace secretary. “What the hell is this?” He said impetuously, “How did this make it past the censor

  “Well sir, I’ve already contacted the Censor, they said it was printed by using a pre-approved edit, which under normal circumstances is given to journals which – ”

  “I know the bloody conditions in which they receive the edits, what I want to know is how... why, this was approved as an edit?” The Emperor said in an annoyed tone, cutting the palace secretary off.

  A young boy rushed into the Throne Room, a letter in hand. He slowed as he entered and diverted his gaze to the ground once the Emperor looked at him.

  The secretary started again, “I’m sorry sir. We don’t understand why it was approved at the moment. The Imperial Censor is investigating this and they’ve sent two agents to the paper’s office.” The secretary noticed the boy and took the paper from his hand. He began reading it.

  “Ah! See here sir, a message from the Censor. They say they’ve met with the editor of the Canton Free Press and have revoked the columnist’s privileges to emergency edits.”

  “Well do you think that does us any good now that the paper is out?”

  "No sir…I understand, and we could issue a statement, force the paper to issue a retraction! Say that they fabricated the whole story.”

  The Emperor sighed, “But they didn’t…How large has this become?”

  The secretary braced himself, “It appears that beyond their regular audience base, mainly composed of undesirables such as anarchists, their paper has reached the higher tiers of society, respectable men and women reading this as if it were true, if rumors are to be believed.”

  The Emperor dictated, his tone now softening, “Issue a retraction demand, make them stress the fact that the article was printed without the consent of the princess, we can have the Rebuttal issue a notice directly from me, we’ll make it on the front page. Trying to conceal this will only bring more attention to it, we must be honest and tell our truth.”

  “Yes sir.” The secretary replied, his voice filled with remorse.

  “I need to speak to Amelia, we’ll discuss this more later.” The Emperor left before he could hear the secretary’s reply. He began his way out the right-hand exit of the Throne Room.

  The Emperor plowed down a carpeted path in the center of the ornamental Southern Ballroom, hoping to catch Amelia before her carriage left. He came to a large double door flanked by two palace guards and two tall potted ferns. The guards opened the doors in unison as a light gust of wind blew through the threshold. As the wind settled, the Emperor came into the bright spring morning, the buzzing drones of hundreds of aircraft filled the sky above him, the arched tarp of a marquee, which stretched far out from the Palace’s southern entrance to the cobblestone road in front of him flapped in the wind. Amelia was just boarding a gilded white horse-drawn coach, being assisted into the cab by a servant.

  “Amelia!” The Emperor shouted, causing her to pause on the carriage’s step. She turned around, grabbing hold of her white, wide-brimmed hat to keep it in place in the blowing winds.

  “Yes father? What is it?” She shouted back, continuing to climb into the coach.

  “Just – just wait a minute!” The Emperor shouted back, quickening his pace.

  The coachman shut Amelia’s door as the Emperor approached, Amelia popped her head out of the window to speak to him, removing her hat. She donned a bright smile as Christopher waved ‘hello’ from the far side of the carriage. The Emperor returned the gesture, forcing a smile.

  “What is this?” The Emperor said, holding up the paper.

  Amelia chuckled, saying, “Well it’s a paper, what do you – ” she paused upon seemingly realizing what it was. She reached for the paper and began reading.

  “Father…I…I don’t know what to say. I didn’t intend for this – ”

  “Stop.” The Emperor said, cutting her off. “Do you see, now, why I always tell you to be careful? This may be completely insubstantial to you and me, but to our citizens…They read this and they believe what this journalist says. You have to be careful.”

  The Emperor dropped his gaze, shaking his head.

  “Look, Amelia, I – ” his pause devolved into a concession of silence.

  “I’m sorry father, I really – I wouldn’t have expected this.” She said in an apologetic and soft tone.

  “People are…people will do anything to discredit you when you’re empress, Amelia. Anything … Given the circumstances, we need to be forthright with this and show the empire you're prepared for the future, I think it would be advantageous for you to start learning more about governance. I'm making arrangements for proper tutors, understand?”

  “Yes father.” Amelia replied, a meek tone remaining.

  “Good. Go and … try to find peace, we’ll talk some more later.” The Emperor said.

  Amelia’s carriage parted with a ‘ye!’ from the driver, triggering the horses to depart. They drove through the gates and towards the Kessel-Donner Platz being followed by two Honor Guards on horseback.

  The Emperor turned his gaze upward to a pair of warships amongst a sea of craft, proudly donning the Elysian colors, making a euphemistic display of peace for the people below.

  Bernyce came onto a cobblestone backstreet, turning off of the busy Avenue Leopold she had just come from. At nine in the morning, the business of the Imperial City was already in full swing as the air buzzed with all assortments of aircraft; carriages and steam-automobiles raced by on the streets as crowds of pedestrians lined the sidewalks.

  About thirty feet in front of Bernyce, a polished black steam-auto sat parked in front of her paper's office. Parked even further back was a police auto attended by two officers talking to one another. As she approached the black steam-auto, a chrome-painted emblem of the Asphydyyl Empire became apparent on the side door. Ornamental gold vines covered the steam-auto’s front fender. Bernyce's presence caught the eyes of the officers who watched her pass as she maneuvered around the auto and opened the door into the office building, making sure to be quiet in the process.

  The space she entered was cramped with a narrow staircase standing directly in front of her, going straight up to the second floor. The narrow stairwell was dusty and dimly lit, relying entirely on a small window just above the door for light. The light that did shine through from the mid-morning sun illuminated hundreds of slow-falling dust specks that settled on the rotting wooden steps. Bernyce climbed the stairs quietly, not wanting to announce her presence, completely aware of why two government autos would be parked outside.

  As she came to the top of the stairs, Bernyce heard a few faint voices coming from down the hallway. She started down the narrow hall, passing two messy offices and the light rays shining through their windows. Shadows moved in a corner office at the end of the hall, the volume of the voices increasing as she approached. She could now discern three specific voices, one belonging to her editor Daniel. She came to the precipice of the door to see two well-dressed men standing in front of her editor their backs turned to Bernyce. All three of the men turned to look at Bernyce as a floorboard beneath her squeaked.

  “Bernyce.” Daniel said with a grave tone, gently delivered however.

  She glanced at the two men briefly.

  “Daniel…” she mimicked, “What’s going on?”

  The man closest to Bernyce, a gray haired and confident looking bureaucrat stepped forward, saying, “Ms. Allencía, my name is Mr. Matthes, we are agents for the Imperial Censor. We’re here in regards to your article about Her Imperial Highness which was written and published by you last night. Would you mind speaking to us for a minute?”

  Bernyce kept her expression steeled and glanced at Daniel briefly.

  “Sure.” She replied bluntly.

  Mr. Matthes smiled wryly and turned to Daniel. “Mr. Fenscowls, would you mind if we could talk to Ms. Allencía in private?”

  Daniel nodded his head, “No, not at all.” He said bolting from his seat, “Please go right ahead.”

  Daniel left the room and shut the door. Bernyce meandered towards Daniel’s desk and took his chair, propping her feet up on the desk and crossing her arms over her waist with a discernably unconcerned and irreverent attitude.

  “What would you gentlemen like to talk about?” Bernyce said.

  “Ms. Allencía, you wrote a factually distorted, divisive article that portrayed our princess as incompetent and brash in her decision making.”

  Bernyce rolled her eyes at the accusation as the Censor agent continued, “You achieved this by using a preapproved edit that the Censor has very graciously granted your paper for continued efforts to maintain the status quo standards of impartiality and respectful journalistic integrity. The preapproved edits exist only for emergency edits, edits that do not deviate from the subject matter of the article, do you understand?”

  Mr. Matthes moved forward, propping his hands on the desk.

  He continued, “But you, you not only deviated from the point of your original article, you completely changed it, everything about it, which is illegal, Ms. Allencía, and I could very well have you fined and sent to court for your actions. In fact, I have two fine police officers waiting outside for that very purpose. However, I will not do that. I am a reasonable man, and I expect you to be reasonable as well. Are you willing to be reasonable, miss?”

  Bernyce raised her eyebrows, “That depends entirely on what being reasonable entails.”

  “I think you know exactly what I mean, Ms. Allencía. Quit playing games and be reasonable with me.”

  “Stop being a condescending tit and maybe we can have a reasonable a conversation.”

  Mr. Matthes lowered his head with an expression of exhaust.

  “Right.” He said sternly, proclaiming a loss of patience, “I’m going to say this in a way you’ll understand. If you go out of line again, the Censor will revoke your journalistic license and you’ll be arrested and charged with dissent, do you hear what I’m saying Ms. Allencía?” Mr. Matthes gave his warning with a furrowed face and clenched fists.

  “I can hear you.” Bernyce replied, unbothered by what she considered an empty threat.

  “Good!” Mr. Matthes declared with a smile, changing his disposition completely.

  The two men turned towards the door to leave.

  Mr. Matthes turned back to Bernyce once more, saying, “Bernyce, you seem to misunderstand your impact on our country. I know you think you're doing the right thing, but have faith when I say your ignorance is a danger to yourself, and everyone else. Have a good day Ms. Allencía.”

  Bernyce ignored his condescending lecture, turning away to face the office’s smog-glazed window.

  The Censor agents left, uttering a courtesy to Daniel as they made their way down the office’s hall.

  Daniel came to the office’s doorframe and watched the men as they left. He then turned to Bernyce with a look of disappointment, Bernyce’s attention shifted to the doorway, and Daniel. He came into the room, his head lowered and his hands in his pockets.

  “Are you pleased with yourself?” Daniel said with a scolding tone.

  “Quite, actually!” Bernyce said with a flippant smile.

  “Bernyce! This is serious! You're lucky our paper is out of favor with revolutionaries or this could have been much worse.” Daniel said in a critically grave tone.

  “I’m sure it is, and maybe this will increase our sales.” Bernyce replied with a flippant smile.

  “God, Bernyce, don’t you understand? I can’t give emergency edits to any of my writers thanks to you, the Censor threatened to revoke our paper’s license as well as yours.”

  “But they didn’t, did they?” Bernyce replied, her tone becoming impatient.

  “No, and you have me to thank for that.” Daniel said smugly.

  “Well thank you Daniel.” Bernyce replied with an equally smug tone.

  Daniel sighed, exasperated by Bernyce’s purposefully asinine display. “From now on, every single one of your articles goes through me, understand?”

  Bernyce shook her head, returning her gaze back to the window, ignoring Daniel. Bernyce waited for a few moments, realizing Daniel hadn’t left yet. She turned back to the doorway.

  “Can I have my office back?” Daniel asked.

  Bernyce got up from the office chair, sighing in the process.

  “I suppose.” She said.

  She walked to the doorway, stopping before Daniel who was blocking the door.

  “May I leave, Daniel?” Bernyce said, feigning some childish patronage.

  “Do you understand what I’ve said?” Daniel asked.

  Bernyce sighed, “Yes.” She said, dragging out the word to express her frustration.

  “Please, Bernyce.” Daniel replied, moving to the side.

  “Thanks.” Bernyce said with forced jollity as she passed Daniel and made her way down the hallway to her office.

  “Bernyce, you’re interviewing the Minister of Culture and doing a piece on the World’s Fair today, alright?”

  The statement froze Bernyce in her tracks.

  “How boring. Alright.” Bernyce replied.

  “And no politics, for God’s sake.”

  “Even more boring.” Bernyce said as she began to close her office door.

  She paused in the doorway glancing back to say, “Daniel…Thank you.”

  Daniel nodded and disappeared into his office.

  Amelia and Christopher's gilded-white carriage rocked along the cobblestone road leading out of the Imperial Palace. Amelia sat still allowing the carriage’s movement to buck her, still reeling from the scolding her father had just delivered, becoming increasingly aware – and embarrassed – of the potential damage the exposé in the Canton Free Press could cause. She silently cursed Bernyce’s name and chastised herself. She looked out of the window, turning away from Christopher, too embarrassed to even look her husband in the eyes.

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  The carriage reached an intersection on the Kessel-Donner Platz and turned right, skirting along the monolithic gray concrete fa?ade of the brutalist-style War Complex, bright flags that hung from the building’s anterior wall broke the dark monochromatic scheme of the imposing structure. The spring sun cast a variety of dark shadows on the roads from flying vehicles that littered the sky above. Their presence, all in an attempt to make a spectacle of the Imperial City for the sake of the World’s Fair, which drew closer by the hour.

  The carriage continued on its way, drawing a few gawks and gazes from the mass of pedestrians on the sidewalks outside; one such onlooker, a woman in a white day dress and frilled hat got the attention of her companions, pointing to the carriage with delighted laughter and smiles, and with what Amelia believed to be some insidious intent. Amelia drew the carriage’s curtain and rested her head on Christopher’s shoulder as a heavy and peculiar pain spread from her heart, not minding the discomfort caused by Christopher's epaulette on her cheek. Christopher reached his hand over to grab Amelia’s.

  “Don’t worry Amelia, this’ll pass. They’ll find a new piece of gossip to obsess over soon.” Christopher said with an unusually soft tone.

  Amelia squeezed his hand to acknowledge his statement, not having the heart to speak. They rode silently for the remainder of their short trip.

  Amelia closed her eyes in an attempt to will the world away. She tuned into the drone of the aircraft and the clopping of the horses’ steps, the creaking of the wood wheels on the stone road and hypnotized herself into another world. At first, she wasn’t thinking of anything in particular, but her imagination quickly filled the empty space with fictional scenarios, places and people she would much rather be at and be with, a completely foreign life she would prefer to live. For a brief moment, she was happier.

  Amelia noticed the sound of the aircraft quieted. She opened her eyes to find messy shadows dancing on the curtain.

  She peeked outside briefly to find they had come to the base of Wenigberg Hill. Covered in mansions, this feature sat high above the Imperial City, on its summit stood the Fane of Solace, a temple dedicated to an ancient faith. The Fane presided over the capital, standing as a monument in Canton for at least a thousand years, calling to all those who are yearning for peace to pray in its sacred halls.

  Amelia was one such of these disciples, a rare breed in the Asphydyyl Empire, her faith having been passed down from her mother. Since she was old enough to walk she has visited the Fane regularly in an effort to find peace, but this visit specifically had come with an underlying motive. Last night, the ambassador for the Elysium Empire had given Amelia a necklace made of a small, cloudy-pink crystal, claiming the stone was imbued with magical energy that would protect Amelia and bring good-fortune to her life.

  Naturally, she was curious if such a stone could exist. She had known for quite some time about the Fane’s teaching of the existence of both positive and negative energies in the natural world and felt that seeking the advice of the Fane’s priests would be the best course of action. Amelia reached into the small pocket in her waistcoat and squeezed the crystal, hoping to conjure some good luck out of it.

  The carriage drove further up as they passed into a region of the hill decorated with imported cherry trees, their pink petals floated down onto the street in front of them.

  "Isn’t that beautiful?” Christopher said.

  “Oh – yes, very.” Amelia said, unprepared for Christopher’s comment.

  “How about we get some of those trees planted in the gardens?” Christopher said in an attempt to encourage a conversation out of Amelia.

  Amelia forced a smile, “That would be lovely.”

  The incline of the road began to level out as they reached the summit. Tucked among the ornate brick homes was a large, stone fence chiseled with various motifs. Behind the fence was a mass of foliage, one would think they’ve stumbled upon an untouched piece of wilderness, but beyond the large bushes and low trees, the white buttresses of the Fane reached up high, wrapping around the Fane’s rotunda. The carriage turned right through a gate, onto a cobblestone path extending along a bright green mall that led to the Fane’s main entrance.

  The mall was decorated with spewing fountains and neatly trimmed topiary. A few worshippers stood outside of the Fane speaking amongst themselves, but Amelia was unconcerned. Those that frequented the temple weren’t the kind of characters for gossip, nor where they ones to indulge in petty tabloids. She felt safe.

  The carriage reached the apex of the mall and halted. Christopher exited first, holding the door and extending his hand to Amelia as she navigated the leather bench. Amelia exited the carriage to the peaceful melodies of birds that populate the Fane’s gardens, and the rushing of the fountain’s cascading water, the trees surrounding the garden soaking up much of the city's noise. Amelia strolled the short distance from the carriage to the Fane’s large wooden doors; two, much-smaller, auxiliary doors were left open at the base of the behemoth portals.

  Amelia and Christopher entered the vast space of the Fane, leaving behind their escort of two Honor Guards; a circular row of columns divided the worship hall from the raised platform of the encompassing ambulatory. Directly ahead and across the worship hall stood doors of the cordoned Comoinis Hall, a shrine dedicated to one of three natural powers, a neutral energy that permeates the world and can amplify, or attenuate, both positive and negative energies.

  To the left was the same sort of entryway marked by a secured door, the Malovis Shrine, which held large gems said to radiate negative energy. To the right was the last secured chamber, the Benevis Shrine, which conversely – like the Malovis Shrine – holds large gems believed to be imbued with positive energy. The arrangement of the three shrines and the worship hall in the center was designed to provide practitioners with an otherwise unattainable sense of serenity, a perfect space for meditation and mindfulness.

  The worship hall was sparsely populated, only two adherents using it for meditative practice. Two of the Fane’s priests stood across the room from them, inspecting the fa?ade of the far wall. Amelia made it her mission to speak with them first.

  She took Christopher by the arm and led him down the stairs into the worship hall, trying as hard as she could to walk quietly, though little could stop her heeled ankle boots from clicking loudly on the polished marble floor. Blue light radiated along the intricate equilateral designs on the marble floor from the stained glass windows that surrounded the worship hall.

  Amelia became increasingly aware of her footsteps echoing through the chamber, hoping she wasn’t disturbing anyone, disregarding the fact that none of the other four people in the room had taken notice of her presence. She approached the two priests who were far too busy with their discussions to notice the princess immediately. One of them was an elderly gray-haired man in a white cassock, the other was a much younger man with black hair wearing a similar garb.

  “Excuse me, Your Holiness.” Amelia started.

  The Fane’s resident hierophant who went by the title of Prelate Eurisdis and the younger clerisy abbot turned to her with warm smiles.

  “Good afternoon Your Highness, we’re glad you could make it today.” The elderly prelate said.

  Amelia reached into her petticoat pocket to retrieve the gem, saying, “Sir, I was wondering if you could tell me about this gem? It was given to me last night by Ambassador Lucéa of Elysium.”

  The Prelate retrieved a monocle from a pocket in his cassock, closing one eye to inspect the pink gem. “Quite extraordinary, I believe this is a Benthlanyn crystal. They’re incredibly rare, I’ve only ever heard of them originating in Penthoūs.”

  “I was told by Ambassador Lucéa that it was imbued with a kind of positive energy that would protect me so long as I wore it, and I was simply wondering, could that possibly exist?”

  “Well, Your Highness,” The Prelate began, “It is of course, possible, but due to the rarity of this gem I can’t say that its properties have been fully uncovered. The vis energy that exists all around us can permeate any object or material, this is why it’s so common for fanes all across Ascencia to keep gems that are known for their abundance of vis energy. However, the gems that are kept in the fane are either naturally abundant enough, or contain such a strong natural vis pool that they are well recorded. With this crystal, I cannot even say it contains any sort of vis energy, let alone what type.”

  Amelia refused to resign her intrigue, “How are the gems kept in the fane known to contain this vis energy?”

  “Thousands of years of study.” The Prelate proclaimed proudly.

  “So there is no practical way to measure the vis?” Amelia asked.

  “There are scholars, though secular, that have devoted their lives to the study of the natural elements. For most of them, a part of their tutelage does concern the esoteric nature of gems such as these. Perhaps I could further investigate this matter and contact you when I’ve found someone more equipped for your inquiries?”

  Amelia smiled, folding her hands over the crystal necklace, “That would be wonderful, thank you Your Holiness.”

  The Prelate smiled, “Anything for you Your Highness.” He raised his finger, a surprised expression pounced upon him, “I nearly forgot! Wait here a moment, would you?”

  Amelia smiled and nodded. The prelate and abbot turned towards a door on a far wall. Amelia turned to Christopher and smiled.

  “Not quite the answer you were looking for, was it?” Christopher asked.

  “Not quite.” Amelia conceded, “However, I might have gotten a much better answer than I originally anticipated. Time shall tell.”

  “He mentioned secular scholars…I wonder…” Christopher said.

  “Wonder what?” Amelia said impatiently.

  “Well, I know a professor at the Canton Royal Academy who teaches and studies geology, perhaps we could take this to him?” Christopher suggested.

  Amelia agreed with a nod, “We should do that.”

  “Though perhaps we should go to the Natural History Museum first, he spends most of his time there as it stands, as a curator for their fine collection of rocks.” Christopher explained with a slight scoff.

  “Don’t be so dismissive Christopher, geology is a fascinating study. A rock cut in half is like a book open to read.” Amelia said, chiding Christopher with a laugh.

  The door the priests had disappeared behind opened once again, The Prelate emerged with a collection of loose papers neatly bound by twine and an embossed stained glass cylinder, the abbot following closely behind.

  “Your Highness.” The Prelate said with a bow, extending forward the sheaf of papers and glass cylinder.

  Inside of the glass cylinder was a reservoir of red wax and a pristine white wick.

  “These are for Your Highness, and His Majesty, your father, to honor your mother’s passing. We’ve kept an identical candle here at the Fane and will light it on the twenty-eighth.”

  Amelia took the binder and candle, giving the Prelate a smile of doleful appreciation.

  “Thank you Your Holiness, I greatly appreciate it. I’m sure my father will as well.”

  Amelia turned to Christopher and gently took his arm, “My husband and I will retreat to our meditation now, thank you again for your help.”

  Prelate Eurisdis nodded his head, “Anytime, my dear.”

  Amelia smiled before starting down the brief staircase to the worship floor.

  ‘In the course of most of our lifetimes we have, thankfully, never experienced the horrors of a war. Peace has been afforded through the generous efforts of our emperor as well as the power of our military. The last time conflict had befallen the empire was nearly forty years ago and it resulted in almost a million deaths and a million more with no homes to return to, displaced by the conflict. Let us, brothers and sisters, remember this only days before the nations of the world come together on the eve of the World’s Fair right here in our own Imperial City. No matter how strong the desire for conflict can be, no matter how sure anything may seem, nothing could possibly justify war at the cost of the lives of our friends and families.’

  Bernyce broke the metronomic rhythm of clicks from her typewriter to peer outside her office window. She watched as workers installed dark green iron poles into the sidewalk outside, decorated with ornamental gold leaves, and holding triband banners.

  Bernyce plucked a cigarette from the small wood humidor sat on her desk. She climbed onto her desk to get a better view of the outside, sitting down and being careful not to knock over the stacks of paper messily strewn about.

  Bernyce paused for a moment to light her cigarette. A single deep and heavy breath from her cigarette was enough to melt away the building anxiety she was so regularly forced to confront as her head buzzed lightly. She then exhaled, watching as a cloud of smoke caught the early afternoon light coming through the window. She heard footsteps rapidly approaching; the familiar and thudding expired as Daniel reached the doorframe.

  Bernyce turned to him, “Do you think it’s really necessary for them to put in more flags? I mean, for God’s sake they’re already everywhere as it is. They should’ve just left them up after National Day.” she said with a tone of worn-out disinterest, still peering out the window.

  Daniel gave a small and insincere laugh, “Gotta look pretty for our guests these next few weeks, now are you done with your cover piece?”

  “Almost.” Bernyce replied, still gazing out the window.

  “And how is it?”

  Bernyce gave an impatient laugh and turned to her editor, “It’s good enough, yeah? I even kissed the emperor’s ass like you told me to.”

  “You know what I mean and I swear if it doesn’t make it past the censor I’m going to dock your pay.” Daniel said sharply.

  Bernyce laughed mockingly “It’ll make it passed the censor; I’m promoting peace between the empires, what sort of content like that would be censor-worthy?”

  “Bernyce, I’m not playing right now. Now get that article finished and go meet with Minister Terscia. We need to get a jump on the World’s Fair before the other papers.”

  “Aye-aye captain.” Bernyce dragged another breath out, leaving her lips to linger on the cigarette. She finally exhaled, giving herself some relief. She looked out the window again on the Meridian Park, watching as one by one the red-white-red triband banners were raised. Bernyce climbed down from her desk to return to her typing.

  After finishing her article she packed her typewriter, grabbed her coat, and made her way through the office’s L-shaped hallway. Daniel raised his view as she was passing his office, giving her a quick and professional smile and a wave. Bernyce returned the gesture, submitting her article into his letterbox.

  She made her way down the worn and rotting wood stairs and out the door leading to the back alley. She stopped for a moment to take a deep breath, appreciating the fresh scent of the spring afternoon and the perpetual aroma of freshly baked pastries from the corner café.

  After taking a moment to gather her thoughts she turned right and made her way down the cobblestone alleyway and onto the ever-busy Avenue Leopold. She glanced to the left towards the tall spires and monumental rooftops of the northeast Canton skyline, her eyes scoping the sidewalk for a single person in particular, seeing nothing, however. She looked right, down towards the expansive and monumental hippodrome of the Imperial Rally Grounds when she saw her friend, Adère, standing up from her seat at the café to great Bernyce.

  Like Bernyce, Adère flourished a head of long, curly brown hair and olive skin, her face bearing a much rounder shape than Bernyce, however. This marked similarity between the two came from their shared ethnicity, both bearing lineages from the Satthite people native to the Borderlands of both Asphydyyl and Elysium.

  “How are you chuckaboo?” Adère asked with a smile.

  “I’m alright, had a run in with the Censor this morning.”

  “We heard about that.” Adère said with a laugh, “They must really hate you now.”

  “Oh yeah, threatened to revoke my journalistic license, even the whole paper’s license if I do it again.” Bernyce replied.

  Bernyce and Adère began down the Imperial Avenue in the direction of the Canton City Hall.

  “I have to interview the Minister of Culture now, so suffice it to say I won’t be a part of any protests.”

  “I don’t think Jacques will appreciate you backing out on this.” Adère teased.

  “Good thing it isn’t his business then, yeah?” Bernyce’s sharp reply left the air silent and awkward between the two.

  “Not up for jokes, okay, I get it.” Adère replied in an attempt to dissolve the tension.

  “I’m sorry, I just don’t feel right. Something’s just…Something’s wrong.”

  “If I were meeting with a government minister I’d feel the same.”

  Adère’s comment earned a small laugh from Bernyce. “Yeah, I suppose that could be it. Also knowing I’m going to have to be sitting in the shadow of, that – ” Bernyce motioned toward the spire of the Imperial Palace in the distance.

  They found a break in the heavy traffic and crossed the road, now heading south down the Kessel-Donner Platz, passing the gothic style city hall.

  “So did you really get nothing out of the princess last night about Rilyn?”

  “Nothing.” Bernyce replied, “Like I wrote in my article, she’s either feigning ignorance or she really is that dim.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me either way.” Adère said.

  “We need to get in there.” Bernyce said, pointing viciously at the Elysian Embassy across the street. They paused briefly on the sidewalk.

  “What? You wanna break into the embassy?” Adère asked in disbelief.

  “Yeah.” Bernyce said confidently.

  Adère got closer in an attempt to shield their conversation from passersby. “How on earth do you expect to get away with that?”

  “I don’t know, I was going to bring it up with Jacques tonight, maybe put it forward to a vote at the meeting.” Bernyce replied, her confidence dissolving.

  “Well shit.” Adère exclaimed, “You’re serious about this then?”

  “Yeah? Of course I am.” Bernyce said with an air of confusion.

  “Alright, I’m with you then!” Adère replied with a boorish laugh, her round face lighting up and her arms extending up to run her hair. "It's just a little mad is all."

  Bernyce sighed, thinking of ways in.

  “C’mon, let’s go for now.” Bernyce beckoned.

  “This is getting serious now huh?” Adère asked, her tone becoming somewhat concerned.

  Bernyce laughed dismissively, “I don’t think so, not yet at least.”

  “Well, I mean, we’re breaking into an embassy. That’s not normal.” Adère said.

  “What’s ‘normal’ for us anyways? Hiding in a wine cellar with an armory of rifles? Drowning foundries? Stealing the wheels off carriages full of weapons? I don’t think anything we do is normal.” Bernyce replied.

  “You know what I mean Bernyce.” Adère reaffirmed, “We don’t do things against the government precisely because we don’t want to piss them off, this could set them off don’t you think?”

  “No? Why should the empire give a shit about ‘some vandals’ breaking into the Elysian Embassy?” Bernyce said.

  “I guess you’ve got a point.” Adère conceded.

  They went quiet as they passed a few guards on the bridge over the river G?tzerinn. A wall of onlookers stood to the side, peering over the stone railing of the bridge to watch a few people who chose to amuse themselves with rides around Lake Fortis in steamboats.

  Laughing and drowned out conversations permeated the bridge’s sidewalk on one side, the puttering of steam-autos on the other side.

  They crossed the river, the grassy green field and white colonnade of the Messegel?nde now to their left, the walls of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to their right, even further down the tower of the Imperial Palace was visible. A few people had pitched parasols on the campus of the Messegel?nde to recline and enjoy the sunny weather. Others were monitoring the ongoing preparation for the World’s Fair curiously. A few men at the far field closest to the Imperial Mall were installing large metal anchors into stone foundations that will later be used to ground airships on display for the fair. The Imperial City had never been so active as it was today.

  “It’s actually kind of nice.” Adère commented.

  “It’s beautiful.” Bernyce said, “But think of what you don’t see. Think of all the men like your father killing themselves in the factories out east. Think of the innocent people like Oscar’s family being slaughtered in Penthoūs. There’s a reason these people are happy, it’s because they don’t know the truth.”

  Adère sighed, “Bernyce, just…just be happy for once. We're here, now. Take in the moment.”

  They paused as they reached one of the entrances onto the Messegel?nde’s concourse, declared by a large monolithic marble arch. Bernyce angled her face towards Adère and gave an obviously sarcastic smile.

  Adère laughed, “Alright, I’m gonna go meet up with the rest of them. Have fun Bernyce.”

  Bernyce smiled and waved Adère off as she turned to the Messegel?nde.

  From the Fane’s garden, Amelia could see a number of airships of varying shapes and sizes rallied above the center of Canton near the Messegel?nde, making a mess of the skies. She watched on as an almost constant breeze pushed the flower bushes around her. The largest of the airships was a sleek gray cylinder bearing, four fins on its stern. A potential blemish in the otherwise smooth craft were the placement of large plates of iron, protruding from the craft’s exterior fabric with no clearly discernable pattern.

  The ship was a marvel to behold, regardless of its perceived flaws. Amelia watched on for a short while as the airships danced with one another, filling the sky with smoke, undoubtedly enchanting the onlookers below. The sound of heavy boots crushing the grass below came up behind Amelia. She turned around to see Christopher.

  “My courier just came back, unfortunately our professor has never heard of this Benthlanyn crystal.” Christopher said, “He did, however, give me the name of a colleague of his that might be able to answer our questions. A Professor Arthidius Ferris, he teaches at the Canton Royal Academy as well. Apparently his specialty is the arcane.”

  A magician, Amelia thought.

  “I sincerely doubt he could be much help, my interests lie in the practical, not the theoretical.” Amelia said.

  “Amelia,” Christopher started with a laugh, “You are aware that the Arcane Principles are the basis of your faith, right?”

  “No… When did this revelation come about?” Amelia said sarcastically, “Though of course, my faith is the basis for the Arcane Principles, you simply have the relationship wrong dear.”

  “My word, did I? Well I apologize profusely, how I could ever be so mistaken in front of Her Royal Highness will haunt me for eternity.” Christopher returned, his sarcasm far more obvious than Amelia’s. Amelia kept her eyes on the airships as she smiled brightly. Christopher bent his knees to sit on the grass next to her.

  “The Arcane Principles try to explain away what we don’t understand about the world without the respect of religion or the proof of science. Just a vestige of decrepit natural philosophers of the past.” Amelia postulated.

  “I suppose so, but we could still get some sort of idea of what it is, wouldn’t you think?”

  “I’m not sure.” Amelia responded.

  “Well, have you had enough of the gardens yet? We can wait for Professor Ferris at the palace once I return from the ministry.” Christopher asked.

  Amelia’s mind jumped to Oenna, “Yes, yes let’s go now.” Amelia said, attempting to bury her excitement.

  They began their descent down the hill, entering their carriage and departing from the unrestrained greenery of the Fane. Amelia watched the spire of the palace for as long as it was in view, anxiously awaiting their return.

  “Remember dear, I’ll have to leave you this afternoon. I’m meeting with General Ober?lt at the Ministry of Defense. I’ll see you before the opening ceremony of the world’s fair, and perhaps we can meet that professor.” Christopher said.

  Amelia smiled knowingly, “That’s fine my love, I’ll have the staff to keep me company.”

  Their journey back to the palace was markedly candid, both Amelia and Christopher were left contented by their time at the Fane. Was it not that the Fane had the remarkable ability to mentally and psychologically center an individual by ways of the Arcane Principles, Amelia may very well have lost herself long ago. The residual effects of her self-prescribed mindfulness therapy usually lasted hours and gave her the clearest picture of the world she could ever receive, not split between the anxiety-ridden fatalist expectations of doom or the unconcerned and sullen nihilism she had so often found herself bouncing between.

  When she visited the Fane she saw the world for what it was, not through a visor of melancholy or the blindness of jollity. She found herself marveling at the simple natural beauty of the world surrounding her. The blue sky she saw seemed much more vibrant somehow; she could feel the crisp air simply by looking at the clouds, and she could smell the freshness of the morning dew by recognizing the shadows. She saw the souls of the people they passed on the street as one and the same with her own. She had nearly forgotten Bernyce's article.

  They reached the palace’s southern entrance and Amelia exited the carriage. The wind had calmed here since leaving, but it was clear nothing had changed far above them as the clouds raced across the sky, along with a few zeppelins that changed their course to ride the wind.

  Amelia stepped away from the carriage and towards the Royal Strands’ Palace in an attempt to get a vantage point of the skies over Lake Fortis. With the snap of a whip, the carriage began moving again towards the Royal Strands’ Palace that sat just south of the Imperial Palace’s gardens. The square, three-hundred year old building was converted into a stable house and barracks for the Royal Guard by Peter Leopold Gotthard I just before his death, after the construction of the Imperial Palace was nearly finished.

  The Royal Strands’ Palace stood at the tail end of the Old Empire’s history and housed the royalty of the Asphydyyl Kingdom until the construction of the Imperial Palace was completed in 1839. Despite its seemingly illustrious history, the building itself left much to be desired.

  It was large, for a manor that is. In terms of palatial residences, it could have been far better. The palace was completely square, constructed of a beige stone brick; the only distinct features on it were the practically ancient red stone castle that partially wrapped around its extent and a clock tower that stood at about twice the height of the four-story palace, just as plain as the palace building itself. Even the Regency Palace – a building that once stood on the spot of the Imperial Palace and housed the legislature of the Old Empire – was grander than the Royal Strands’ Palace, which had triggered Emperor Leopold to raze the building in order to make way for the new empire.

  Christopher paced over to Amelia, turning his head to look at Lake Fortis with her.

  “What is it?” He asked.

  Amelia looked back to Christopher, “Nothing. I just need to remind myself where I am some times.”

  Christopher raised his arm to squeeze Amelia’s shoulder. “I’ve got to go now, I’ll be having a late lunch at the ministry but I’ll be back shortly after.”

  Amelia nodded, remaining silent.

  “Alright, I love you my dear.” Christopher said, placing his hands on Amelia’s cheeks and kissing her softly.

  He departed with a smile and turned towards the War Complex. Amelia took a deep breath, silently apologizing to Christopher, grasping the candle Prelate Eurisdis gifted her, reminding herself to remain faithful.

  Amelia let her eyes lower to the cobblestone path as she contemplated what seemed like a thousand things at once. She pushed them from her mind and turned to head back into the Imperial Palace.