Prologue

Queen Margain Tath’Sulla sat with her head in her hands. All around her, high ranking officials fought to make their voices heard. As she looked up, she saw her few supporters, predominantly from the Merchants Consortium and the Progress party from the Lords Council, fiercely making their voices heard over the swell of angry voices echoing from the other end of the vast hall.

Slowly, almost against her will, she took a small letter from the table beside her and re-read it, trembling as she saw once again the dreaded words that she knew would seal her fate.

Your Majesty

Nine hundred years of war has come to an end with the fall of the final Sal stronghold of Sal’Defenda. I am happy to report that we only lost twenty-five thousand soldiers out of the two-hundred and fifty thousand soldiers that I was given to command. A rough estimate of around half the Sal Republic army was killed, I'm afraid that the secretaries are still gathering up the relevant information to work out the numbers.

The ruling council in Sal'Republicus has begun the fortification of the capital and the surrounding country side, but the entirety of the remaining cities have surrendered. While it may have been a bit presumptuous of me to claim the war is over, but all that is left in this war now will be a long drawn out siege.

I have begun the preparations to return one-hundred thousand soldiers, Sal'Republicus is a small city, very few soldiers will be required to take it. Any more and it would be a waste of resources and good men.

Good luck and congratulations on your reign being the one which finally ended this conflict.

Grand Marshal
Lord U'tatha

With a heavy sigh, she placed the letter down on the small table again. With no-where left to conquer, and the Sal Republic quashed, Margain saw it as the perfect opportunity to rebuild the Empire’s neglected infrastructure. New aqueducts and roads were sorely needed to provide relief to the swelling cities. The compulsory national service provided the perfect free labor force.

But it was never that simple. Immediately after she had instructed the heralds to decree the near victory over the Sal Republic, a flood of angry lords had descended upon the palace. Looking up, Margain saw that they were still screaming over the same issues.
“My entires families fortunes have been made entirely on the weapon trade, if there are no more wars, than how can I ever hope to sell weapons” Cried a small fat lord who seemed to be leading the group of protesters
“What am I going to do with all the returning drafted soldiers, I have too many men farming to little land, I'm obligated to provide for them, just as any self respecting lord do.” Wailed an aging lord, obviously a minor one by the poor cut of his clothes.
   
Margain watched as her few supporters tried desperately to assure the swelling crowd that most of their fears would be unfounded. However, if the increasing the volume of the fat lord was any indicator, being told they were being irrational was only making them more angry.

Finally, an all out riot broke out in the throne room and the palace guards were finally able to clear out the protesters.  Being lenient to those lords who were the most powerful, the guards manhandled and arrested anyone who didn't immediately leave the palace grounds. Glad that the worried lords had finally left, Margrain was finally able to retire to her apartments.

* * *

Three serving ladies gathered up the plates that were left over after Margain's evening meal. Leaning back into her large, comfortable cushioned armchair, once covered in beautiful gold thread designs on a rich red silk covering had made the chair fit for the most powerful ruler in the world, but years of heavy use had caused the gold thread to rub away and sunlight had caused the red to fade away to a very light pink. The chair was Margain's only constant. All her furniture was constantly replaced, gifts from well-wishing lords and ladies. All the gifts required  her to replace the respective furniture, normally as Margain just learnt to like them in her apartment, leaving her feeling like a stranger in her own room. The chair was were she put her foot-down, refusing anyone who wished to replace it to replace it, she heard all the excuses, but refused to listen to anyone, it was her favorite object in her apartments. More often than not, she would fall asleep in the chair and her ladies in waiting would cover her in a blanket and move her closer to the fire.

Constantly repositioning herself, Margain found it impossible to get comfortable while reading the depressing harvest information sent to her by the Minister for Agriculture in the Lords Council. As she was finally getting to the boring statistics of the report she was startled by large booming sound. Nearly dropping the report she placed it on her work table to the left and turned to face the booming sound to her right. Swinging open the heavy oak door, three of her greatest generals waltzed in with an air of superiority. Her ladies in waiting whispered nervously to each other, unable to force the Generals out, they could only rub their hands nervously and hope that the guards would be able to do something quickly if the situation turned sour.

Margain recognized the Generals immediately, the leader of the three was non-other than Duke Witherspring, an extremely handsome Doomlord, with a well-chiseled face and a smooth voice, Margain had seen many well-to-do young ladies turn away suitors for the non-existent chance that Witherspring would marry them, or at least give them a dance at one of the many balls which seemed to plague the summer.
“His eyes are nice”, Margain thought “The most beautiful shade of red and the vertical iris of the cats really does suit him” Margain blushed and thought furiously
“And now I'm behaving like one of those pathetic little trollops”

The other generals flanking Witherspring were Naze the Eternal and Grandmaster Zal'Nippu. Naze was one of the old Liches, old and twisted. Long since lost his body when he moved from Necromancer to Lich. His joints had even lost the ligaments and tendons that seemed to last on other Liches. His skeleton was completely held together by his intricate powers. When Naze spoke, it seemed impossible that such a decrepit old skeleton was able to have such a smooth voice.

Grandmaster Zal'Nippu had a rough handsomeness about him. Being the leader of the Heks guild had left him with a lot of scars from his younger years. His long thin face  had been patched back together so many times, a childhood friend would not be able recognized him. He was a very tall man, thin and lanky, he look deceptively weak, but had the finest sword hand in the Tal Empire. His now famous blade, Midnight’s Fury hung at his hip. According to the Grand Marshal, he was also one of the finest tacticians, and won many of the closing battles in the war against the Sal Republic.

Duke Witherspring gracefully sat himself down in a chair directly opposite Margain.
“Your Majesty” he began, smiling wide. “We have a little problem, of course we do, no need to say anything. The Lords Council is very excitable, we both know that.”
Margain opened her mouth to retort the fact that she was not about to take advice from a non-advisor who had forced his way into her apartment. Before she could say anything Witherspring broke in with.
“No-no, let me finish” Leaning back into the chair and getting comfortable, he continued.
“Everyone is becoming worried about our current situation. Ever since your family removed our last gracious rulers, we have been at war. Now, we also both know that many lords have made their entire livelihood on the booming arms trade, well, was booming you understand”
Duke Witherspring flashed a grin as he finished, his teeth just starting to show a change from normal human to pointed, his gum just showing the hint of blackness.
“What are you getting at Witherspring” Margain asked in an all business tone, hoping to keep the vehemence she felt out of her tone.
“The whole economy is at risk of course.”
“Nonsense, extremist drivel, no wars means fewer taxes, which means more money in the hands of the commoners. Luxuries earn more money then weapons.”
“True, and I heard your supporters attempting to tell them that. But, they still seem disgruntled…”
“Again, what are you getting at Witherspring”
“Why, didn’t your family take control when the lords were disgruntled?” Duke Witherspring finished sounding completely off topic. Sitting back, he smiled knowingly at Queen Margain.
Margain gaped at his smooth words; the thought had never crossed her mind. Her family had removed the Sal Dynasty, leading to the creation of the Sal Republic and the Breaking. Jumping at her silence, Witherspring leaned forward, closing the space between them.
“High Lord Itanah Sulla is coveting the throne your Majesty, you have one-eight of the Sulla blood. He has a strong case if he decides to claim regency on the grounds of inadequacy, that and if he doesn’t get his way, the Sulla family is the political juggernaut of the north. I have reports of it fielding upwards of five hundred thousand soldiers during the height of the Reclamation.”
Already shaky from the realization that her kingdom which, having just fought nearly a millennium of vicious war, could just slip back into war just as it was ending blanched considerably. The Sulla were staunch allies, and family.
“Damn them, I had hoped they had decided to support me” Margain thought bitterly “Duke Witherspring may just be lying through his pointy teeth, but he knows I cannot even allow a slight rumour exist around my throne. Precautions will have to be taken.”
Just as Margain finished thinking, Duke Witherspring rose to his feet and stood at the back of her chair. With a click of Withersprings fingers, Naze sighed audibly. Raising his hands, icicles shot out of his fingers and brutally sliced open the throats of the various ladies in waiting. Duke Witherspring leaned down to whisper in Margain’s ear. Margain’s hand quickly shot up and grabbed hold of Withersprings ear. Twisting it painfully, she all but dragged him in front of herself by the ear. In a low tone she spat.
“You are all disgusting pigs!” In a loud, commanding voice she demanded for the guards to enter and arrest the three men. As the guards entered Zal’Nippu drew Midnight’s Fury and skewered them quickly. Witherspring pulled free easily from Margain’s once vice-like grip. Standing behind Margain’s chair once again, Witherspring took hold of her shoulders.
“Don’t make any sudden movements, I would hate to see any others harmed trying to…. protect you. Now, I have a plan that will make us all even more powerful. You see, after some consultations with my colleagues here, it has become apparent that…” Margain listened intensely to what Witherspring had to say, once he had finished explaining what he came to Margain about, the group left the room, with Margain openly and intensely weeping. Calming down slightly after a few minutes, Margain took long lengths to avoid looking at the dead bodies as she walked slowly to her desk, sitting down, she took out her best letter paper and pens and set to work. It wasn’t long before dawn when Margain finally finished writing. Sealing the envelopes, she rose with a sigh and went to bed.