Steel and Mana

Chapter 348 – Peace

It was a summer that would go down in history, not only in Avalon or Ishillia but also in most of the countries neighboring them.

By the end of it, the news of the devastation at Kadosa IV’s campaign against Ishillia had spread across the Geth Empire like a boulder tumbling down from a mountainside, crashing into an unsuspecting village below. The war, long thought to be inevitable between the two empires, turned out to be a march toward total destruction on the Geth's side. But not everyone blamed their Emperor. Many blamed their supposed ally, who never really managed to back them up, resulting in their ultimate defeat and routing from Ishillian soil.

After returning home, Kadosa IV refused to appear publicly and stayed within his palace, trying to deal with the turmoil brewing in his Empire. He sat in the dimly lit library of his personal quarters, looking at the vast history of his kingdom. There were times when they won when they lost... Even their own Capital was once breached by the Ishillian Empress of Death. Was his defeat worse than that? He couldn't tell. But, what he knew was that his once-graceful figure was now hunched, his face pale and gaunt, as though the devastation of his campaign had aged him a decade or more in a single year. He knew it would not be easy, even if Ishillia stood on its back foot. It had been his greatest gamble, and it had cost him everything in the end. His armies were decimated, causing him to be unable to gear for any kind of war for the upcoming decades or even for a century. He was already suffering from shortages thanks to the cold winters... With many of the working men dead, hard years were coming for his Empire, especially because they gained nothing. No land was to be kept... not under the shadow of that massive flying fortress.

“Avalon,” he muttered, the name of it tasting bitter on his tongue. Where did they come from? He believed it was Mirian Ishillia's work, but the more he learned, the more it seemed they were an independent force. A new kingdom, somewhere up North. Meaning they WERE Ishillians. Once...

They had not even engaged in battle, yet their mere presence had shattered the morale of his troops. Which was not difficult, not even after they had barely survived. Thinking about it, Kadosa clenched his fists, his mind racing. Who were they, really? What did they want? Why ally with Ishillia if they are a splintering region of it? Which was answered by another thought. It has to be why they had chosen to side with Mirian Ishillia. Helping her... and gaining their freedom.

Then, from that same Avalon, the Empire received a letter. Were they asking nicely? Or demanding? He couldn't tell, not from the tone of the words on the paper, but the 'offer' was simple: Leave Ishillia, return back behind the original borders, and they won't pursue the issue any further.

"This means Ishillia is weak!" his advisors urged him, whispering about drafting treaties and truces that would benefit them greatly and maybe even allow them to keep some of the conquered southern lands. But Kadosa knew this would not work.

“We are defeated,” he growled, the words grating even to his ears, but it was the truth. “They may not pursue the issue now because they indeed can't.” He muttered, pinching his nose when facing his advisors right after the message arrived at Sanctora, the city of the Goddess. "But Avalon could. We have no more fighting force. Or are you going to conscript the children? Do you want to turn our people against us?"

Yet, deep down, he wondered if he should try it. No... He couldn't. His head may still be separated from his shoulders; he knew that. Shaking the memory of that long and loud meeting with his advisors, he stood up, drawing his fingers along his books.

"We must accept the peace treaty... We need reforms... Then maybe I can still survive this."

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Far to the South, in the opulent halls of Sar’s imperial palace, situated in the middle of a desert, around a grand oasis, Ahnud Sar paced like a nervous cat. His plans to invade Ishillia with Kadosa had been thwarted before they had even begun. The Tentian Theocracy and the Roblesia Kingdom, those opportunistic vultures, had struck at his borders the moment his armies marched north. Right at the perfect moment, when his forces were stretched their thinnest, his territories were most vulnerable. Just like that, his dreams of conquest were reduced to ash.

“Mirian Ishillia,” he spat, his voice dripping with venom. “It had to be her work... when she visited us all... The whore! And who are these… these Avalonians?” He slammed his fist against the marble table in his room, sending a goblet of wine crashing to the floor. “Who are they to interfere in our affairs?!”

Just like Kadosa, he also received an official letter from them. They urged for the South to reach peace. They suggested, as veiled threats, that they would be the mediators, bringing the three countries to one table and initiating peace talks. They? These nobodies?! But... then again, the constantly changing borders between the Sar Empire and the other two bastards were happening month after month in the past year. Worse, the other side accepted Avalon's call for peace.

"..." Listening to him, his advisors in the same room exchanged uneasy glances. “Your Majesty,” one ventured cautiously, “perhaps it is time to reconsider our strategy. The Theocracy and Roblesia have already claimed swathes of our land. Even with the defeat of the Theocracy's fleet, we were unable to route them out completely on the land. If we continue to press and Ishillia recovers... They knew our original intentions. We may be surrounded by three countries!”

"And Kadosa would just–" But he stopped. No. The Geth Empire was not in a shape to come to their aid. Even if they could, they may not... He had known for a year that their close relationship now had a grand crack in it. Taking a deep breath, Ahnud’s eyes narrowed to a pinpoint. “You speak of surrender?” He asked, looking at them.

“Not surrender, Your Majesty. Merely... adaptation. We can't continue this for long, and instead of risking it all, we should stop while we can. If we remain intact, we can also help the Geth Empire and try to... fix things.”

Ahnud turned to the window, his gaze fixed on the swaying palm trees and the heatwave distorting the view. Mirian’s rise was a threat. A stable Ishillia would be dangerous. Then there was this unknown danger, Avalon… They were an enigma. A power that they knew nothing about. And puzzles like these, he knew, were far more dangerous than they seemed so. Otherwise, why would they dare to send such a letter?

"..." Letting out another breath, he slowly nodded, "Let's call a meeting and see what our plans would be for the peace talks. We can't give them anything. We will take a firm stance; we are still not defeated, after all!"

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In the heart of the old Kingdom of Scorc, now a shadow and almost a ruined mess of its former self, the people gathered in the streets, their faces a mixture of disbelief and guarded hope. But they saw it with their own eyes. Ishillian people, nobles, regular folk, and, more importantly, soldiers were leaving—abandoning everything and leaving.

Then, they finally heard Mirian Ishillia’s proclamation. It had reached them like a thunderclap out of a blue sky: Scorc would be free. The Ishillians would withdraw, bringing away their soldiers and administrators, and all of them would return to Ishillia. It had to be a trap... no? Abandoning it all, after years of subjugation and countless executions, the people would be... liberated? Just like that? That couldn't be. Why? Who would do such a thing?

But they saw it. Many of their still-standing cities were simply left behind. Even when some partisans appeared, tearing down Ishillian flags and banners, nothing happened—not even when they burned them. Nobody came to take them away.

"This is..." In the crumbling halls of the kingdom's royal palace, what remained of the Scorc nobility convened. It was occupied by the fearsome mage of Ishillia, Kiva, until recently, but it seemed that it was about to be the place of rebirth instead of death. “Can we trust her words?” one lord asked, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and undeniable hope. “Mirian Ishillia is still an Ishillian. What if this is a trick? A ploy to weaken us further?”

“And what if it is not?” countered another. “We have suffered under their rule for years. How many of our people died? If this is our chance to reclaim our homeland and stop the bloodshed and genocide, we must take it. WE MUST!”

The debate raged late into the night and into the morning of the next day. However, one thing was clear: Mirian’s announcement had ignited a kind of unity akin to that of the citizens within Avalon. As for whether that spark would grow into an actual flame and try to bite back against Ishillia because of what they had done to them, it was something for the future.

But one thing was real... The Kingdom of Scorc was reestablished.

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The first to be reestablished was the Ishillian high nobility, their ranks being made up of people who followed Mirian and many who stayed behind, serving Pascal. There was no other way, and Mirian was seemingly willing to forgive and forget. For now. By the time the final clash arrived, the war had left the Empire sorely missing capable people, with only remnants of the previously governing bodies remaining behind. The entirety of Ishillia was weary and faced internal unrest under the surface. Mirian knew it, so she sent the first invitation to every noble bloodline or house in the Empire. It was a summons to discuss long-term peace. It was not an order for a new Empress. She was asking... and to many's surprise, the nobility answered, heading towards the Capital.

The Grand Imperial Palace was now a battered remnant of its former self, half of it destroyed. Still, what remained relatively intact played the host to the first gathering of Mirian's rule. More than even she expected arrived ahead of time, accompanied by their most trusted advisors, bearing their best wishes for the new Empress of Ishillia.

It was not just because they saw the floating Judgement or Mirian's own mech standing guard of the Imperial Palace. It was because they indeed looked forward to peace. Even those who were Pascal's supporters were now falling into line, just for the sole reason to keep their position... and their heads. They knew if Mirian managed to conquer the city that should not have been conquered, they meant nothing before her.

Although Mirian showed a willingness to compromise and work with the remaining noble families and bloodlines, she also showed her fangs when they tried to push a little. Especially when it was about the same revolutionary edicts she began edict before being chased out.

What the nobles didn't know, bowing to her will, was that she was mostly playing the firm and powerful. Deep down, she knew the Empire was tethering on the edge of splintering and being destroyed. She had to keep the nobles in line, but they were satisfied enough to start serving her. Until the Empire is rebuilt, she can't afford to completely change things... No. This will be a long road and a difficult one. If she wanted to reshape Ishillia, she had to be careful and patient. Play, as Leon put it, the long game.

Luckily, he turned out to be a reliable ally, traveling around the Empire's borders, forcing peace onto everyone, one way or another. It was what they needed... what everyone needed.