Side Story 1.11: A Secret Meeting of The Eastern Lords and Ladies
"What chance do we have against powers of the unknown? We can only strive for peaceful existence before them," the Sovereign King declared, his voice resonating through the grand hall. "But what if they do not accept such peaceful terms, and what they truly want is our complete eradication? The extinction of our people!"
His weathered hands gripped the ornate podium, knuckles whitening as he surveyed the gathered nobility. Torchlight danced across jeweled crowns and silken garments, illuminating faces etched with varying degrees of concern and calculation.
"And if the Emperor of the West does not come to our aid, then we might as well swap sides and bend to the rule of this Great Evil and its Dark Forces—just like our already fallen brethren," he continued, his voice dropping to a tone that mingled resignation with defiance.
The assembled lords and ladies shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Some nodded gravely while others scoffed at the notion of surrender.
"After this Great Assembly that the Empire of Elms-Arkanus has called upon us—its vassals and allies—we shall truly learn our fates!" The King's voice rose again, commanding attention. "Now, my dear lords and ladies, make wise decisions; the fate of the eastern continent of Arkanus hangs in the balance!"
Thus concluded the speech of one of the Sovereign Kings of the East who presided over the secret meeting conducted by the many lords and ladies still under alliance or direct vassalage with Emperor Janus Cornwall of the Elms-Arkanus Empire.
In a few days' time, they were all set to journey westward, where the New Capital Region and its grand city, The Regalia Imperion with its Crownhold 'Aethelguard,' awaited them. There they would discuss matters of gravest concern to the east: the imminent invasion of the Great Evil and its Dark Forces, and the plight of their fallen neighbors who had already succumbed to this malevolent rule—those who now committed atrocities against their own people and harassed the eastern borders.
Throughout the gathering, many lords and ladies had responded with impassioned pleas for their people. Yet beneath the veneer of concern, Lord Serverus Freek noted that most were present solely for their own vested interests—the survival of their royal and noble houses superseding all else.
"Hear! Hear! Hear!"
As the session concluded, the master of ceremonies slammed his ceremonial wooden gavel on its base three times, the sound echoing through the vaulted chamber.
*Dukk! Dukk! Dukk!*
"This session has now been concluded," he announced with practiced formality. "You may all return to your sovereign states and kingdoms and thoroughly prepare yourselves to meet the Emperor!"
The assembly dissolved into clusters of conversation; some lords and ladies huddled in secretive dialogue, voices hushed and eyes watchful, while others boast loudly of their military prowess—how they would repel the invaders and even drive them from the continent "like the previous Empire did," if given the opportunity.
While whispers, murmurs, and boastful laughter filled the grand hall, Lord Serverus Freek stood alone in a quiet corner, his expression grave. Unlike many of his peers, this upstart nobleman was genuinely concerned with his people's welfare and the threats they faced daily along the border. Minor skirmishes had already been incited by their former neighbors, now pawns of the Great Evil.
Serverus had not been born to nobility. He was once a poor lad who enlisted as a soldier, he had been knighted after years of dedicated service and eventually promoted to the status of a landed nobleman. Now he served as a Baron of a small but bustling town hub situated precariously at the new Eastern border, between allies and enemies.
Like his former master, Serverus valued the safety and welfare of those under his protection—whether they were in his employ or simply residents of his domain. This compassionate governance set him apart from many of his peers, marking him as one of few who possessed such admirable character traits.
As he observed the political maneuvering around him, Serverus resolved that he must speak directly with the Emperor at the upcoming Grand Assembly—even if such forthright behavior would be interpreted as insolence worthy of beheading. The lives of those who trusted him mattered more than protocol.
He could not bring himself to mingle with these lords and ladies whose nature he privately characterized as hawkish, vulturous, and slithering—interested solely in their houses' survival, even at their citizens' expense. Their arrogance and foolishness were anathema to everything he had learned from his lord, whose leadership style he had adopted for his own lands.
Serverus clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening much like the Sovereign King's had earlier, though from anger rather than rhetorical emphasis. He released a deep sigh, a breath of frustration formed in the depths of his soul as he contemplated the war poised to engulf the entire continent.
*Sigh*
He could only hope that Emperor Janus Cornwall was cut from a different cloth than these self-serving nobles. Serverus was not one to trust rumors alone; he preferred to judge a person's character through direct observation. Only then would he bestow the respect he held so dearly—respect he granted solely to those who truly deserved and commanded it through their actions.
As the last of the nobility filed out of the hall—servants rushing to extinguish torches and collect abandoned goblets—Serverus remained, contemplating the journey ahead. Little did he know that when he finally met the Emperor, his doubts would dissipate instantly, replaced by profound respect and admiration for the ruler's noble character. He would soon join the ranks of those who willingly bowed in faithful service as loyal vassals to the Emperor, the empire, and its people.
For now, though, as shadows lengthened across the empty hall, Lord Serverus Freek stood alone—a beacon of integrity in a gathering that had revealed how rare such quality had become in these darkening times.